“There’s this asshole. Hit me in the head for nothing. Snuck up on me like a fucking coward and hit me.” Tug was angry, convinced he was the victim.
Dale knew there was a lot more to the story.
Cooper listened. He’d known since he rescued the girls from the intersection that Tug was following him. He debated whether he should step out and face him. But even though the second man had waved him off, Cooper didn’t know how the man would react if he stepped out. He might have to take Tug’s side of things for some reason.
“What do you plan to do to him when you catch him?” Dale leaned against the truck, appearing relaxed, even uninterested. But he was all ears. Tug was talking.
“I thought about it lots. I know I want him to hurt before he dies. I want to take that stick he hit me with and beat his body to nothing. You know, just work on the bones until his arms and legs flap like empty sacks. Or maybe I’ll use my cue! I never showed you my cue!” Tug went to the rear of the truck, fished out his cue stick, and held it up to Dale, smiling.
“What does this guy look like? I can help hunt him down. That would be a lot of fun.” Dale smiled, wanting to keep Tug talking about his plans and take his attention off his pool cue.
Ah crap
, Cooper thought, prepared to run his ass off. If Tug described him and the other guy realized who he’d waved off, they both might come for him.
“He’s a asshole,” was all Tug said quickly, not taking his attention off his cue. “Man, we have to get you one of these.” He started walking out to the street.
Cooper was on the sidewalk, right behind the shrub at the end of the liquor store’s drive, watching the approaching swarm as it drew closer. He’d already had to take out a few early arrivals with his baton. He’d walked out to meet them so he could crack their heads at a distance to lessen the chance of being heard. He was buying himself time to listen, but the dead were getting closer and soon would force his hand.
Dale didn’t know if the young guy he saw was gone or not, but he tried to slow Tug down. “Hey, man, wait. Give me the cue.”
Tug stopped and turned. “You trying to steal my cue?” He stood his ground, fists balled tightly at his sides.
Cooper heard the commotion and turned his attention back to the men. He could see the back half of Tug as he stood near the street, and Cooper inched a little farther back to conceal himself. The dead were too close to wait much longer. His only options now were to expose himself to the men, or expose himself by trying to fight the horde alone with his back to the men.
Crap
, he thought. His only option now was a direct approach. He stepped from around the shrub with both guns up. He was only a few feet behind Tug.
Dale saw him, and his eyes went wide. He put his hands up as if to surrender. Tug stood angry and tense, facing Dale. He didn’t pick up on any of the signs that might have made him turn around. Dale’s wide-eyed stare at something or someone over his shoulder being the primary one.
“Huh, tell me.” Tug was tense, focused on Dale.
Dale relaxed. Cooper relaxed and turned his attention to the horde when he realized Tug was unaware of him. He motioned to the horde, hoping Dale would understand. Tug advanced on Dale.
“I knew it, just like everybody else taking any shit they want. You can’t have it.”
Dale spoke firmly and calmly with hands raised. “Now Dale, you know I ain’t gonna take your cue. It’s yours, of course. I just wanted to see how it felt in my hands, seeing as you were so damn excited about it.”
“Well, you can’t use it. You might just forget it’s mine and keep it.”
“Hey, page eighty-two, right man? Come on, I don’t need to try your cue. Let’s find a pool hall and get a hundred fucking cues. We can fill the truck with them.” Dale was relaxed, convincing.
Tug relaxed and smiled. “I was always saying that. There’s enough cues for everybody. Everybody! No need to take mine.” He walked toward the truck. “I can hear them dead coming. Let’s go.” He jumped in and started the engine. “Truck full of cues!” he yelled out the window.
Cooper stood ready, both pistols aimed at two approaching zombies. They shuffled closer and closer and were just inches away when he heard the engine turn over. He fired, and by the time both corpses hit the ground he’d spun around. He bent over and walked quickly behind the truck.
During the several seconds it took for the engine to start and Tug to gulp some warm beer and then find reverse, Cooper positioned himself on the extended off-road bumper of the truck. He had a firm hold on the tailgate and solid footing on the thick, curved tubes that encased the rear of the truck.
As the truck backed into the street, Cooper came within a few feet of several corpses. The first was a naked man with a head that appeared to have been burnt black. His jaw hung open, unmoving, and his eyes were gone, but he seemed to know where Cooper was. The bullet entered below his left eye, and he dropped.
The next corpse was a tall man, and Cooper was at eye level with his genitals, or the gaping hole where his junk used to be. He could see part of the pelvis in the hole, and looking up he saw teeth marks around the red holes where his nipples used to be. Cooper put a bullet between his eyes.
The next few corpses took his attention fully. The truck came to a stop, and four deadheads were lined up side by side. This was the head of a massive swarm, and the bodies were quickly getting thicker. In a second he would be moving forward and everything would be OK, but that wasn’t what happened.
Suddenly the truck took off in reverse, tires squealing. Cooper dropped his tethered gun and held onto the tailgate with both hands. He tucked his head down between the tailgate and his outer arm.
Bodies smashed into him. He was terrified of being bitten or dragged from the truck, but the truck was moving so fast the zombies probably didn’t even know he was there. But the buffeting was brutal. As the truck sped backward through hundreds of corpses, Cooper felt skulls, ribs, and bones smashing into him. It was painful. The pummeling made it hard to hold on to the truck.
The smell was worse than the beating. It was awful and overpowering and made a thousand times more revolting as many of the bodies burst upon impact. They expelled rancid fluids and juices from their noses and mouths, even their eye sockets. They ripped open, and innards and fluids splashed over him. He was holding his breath but still wanted to vomit. An arm got caught in the crook of his elbow and tore away from its owner. He shook it loose. He felt his feet slipping from the bumper.
His eyes had been shut tight since the truck started backing. When the truck stopped and then shifted into drive and shot forward, he allowed himself a peek. The only thing that had saved him from death was the speed at which it all happened.
Cooper held on, not sure what was going to happen next. Well, he knew one thing that was going to happen. He puked all over the tailgate of Tug’s truck.
§
Dale got into the truck and looked for the guy. He had no idea where he’d gone. He hoped he could get away from the dead. The swarm was upon them, and his outlook was grim. Dale was debating whether he should try to help the guy, when suddenly the pickup shot backward. With roaring engine and squealing tires, it went straight into the swarm.
“What the fuck?” Dale yelled as his head almost hit the dash. At first he thought Tug was trying to knock him out, but Tug was smiling and looking behind them through the rear window of the cab. A low chuckle, barely audible over the noise of the engine, rattled from his throat.
Dale was looking back too, wondering what the hell Tug was doing. Was he trying to get them killed? Was he going to try to push Dale out of the cab and into the midst of the swarm?
The truck sat high enough on its off-road suspension that the corpses were about mid-chest to neck height. Dale’s stomach rose into his throat, and he fought sickness as he watched human heads rapidly whipping forward and back as the corpses were plowed over. They were pulled under the truck, and the next few got the same treatment. It was like driving through a cornfield, only a million times more disgusting.
Tug seemed to be doing this for fun, which made Dale relax a little. But he was still concerned about the outcome of this insane action. He watched the bed of the truck, unable to take his eyes off the grisly scene before him.
As the truck sped backward, not all of the bodies remained intact. A few of the corpses were decapitated when the tailgate hit them at neck level and tore their heads off. The bed of the truck had several heads rolling around in it already, and they weren’t all clean breaks. Some of the heads had a length of spine still attached or a few ribs. Dale noticed white pebbles bouncing around the bed and realized they were teeth.
The bodies were almost exploding. He could see liquids and fluids shooting and splashing about. Big drops and sprays of the stuff were collecting on the rear window and running down it. But he almost puked when the truck slammed into a fat corpse that exploded on impact. The head detached but didn’t roll into the truck bed. The head shot skyward on a fountain of innards that spewed from the gaping neck hole. The innards squirted from the body in a large mass that seemed to float in the air for a split second until it met the rear window of the truck on its way back down to earth. Dale closed his eyes and turned away.
“Woo hoo! Shit! Did you see that last one?” Tug was genuinely impressed with his own work. And suddenly, just as it had all started moments before, Tug hit the brakes, dropped the gearshift into drive, and shot forward.
The decision to leave the guy behind wasn’t his anymore, and Dale hoped he would be OK. He watched an ocean of rotting corpses flow into the street behind the truck, filling in the path it made through them like water.
“I love that part of this,” Tug said, looking at Dale with a huge grin.
Dale smiled weakly, nodded, and wondered,
Where the hell are we off to now?
35.
Henry stumbled backward and tripped. He hit the concrete floor hard and bumped his head. With a bang, the sunlight was gone as the door slammed shut. He was temporarily blind in the darkness, but as his eyes adjusted he expected to see that Jeeter fellow. Instead, an old man knelt over him, looking about nervously. “Come on, son,” he whispered. “We have to move now.”
He helped Henry stand as loud footfalls coming from the center of the massive store grew louder.
“Fats! Fats! Wait, don’t go out there! Fats!” Jeeter ran to the door to stop Henry from stepping out among the dead.
Henry and the old man melted into the dark maze of shelves. They saw the light grow as the door opened and heard Jeeter screaming and cursing as he fought to close the door. The light winked out with a boom as the door slammed shut. Shortly thereafter, they heard Jeeter weeping and mumbling in the dark.
Henry couldn’t hear what Jeeter was saying, but his tone was of utter sadness. The old man took Henry to a nondescript door on the edge of the warehouse and opened it. There was only darkness beyond. They entered and quietly closed the door, and then the darkness was complete.
“Wait here, son. I’ll go open the door.”
Henry heard the soft dragging of the old man’s hand over the walls and his soft footfalls. With a faint click, a vertical ribbon of light appeared and widened. Henry could now see well enough to safely walk down the hall that had four other doors in it. The old man was standing in a door that opened onto a stairwell.
The stairs led to a large, open office space. The large area was hidden from below by clever placement of service counters and shelves. When inside the office, one could see the entire warehouse through large windows spaced every fifteen feet or so on three of the walls. The fourth wall was just cinderblocks, as it was also the wall of the warehouse.
There was a door on either side of the room, close to the warehouse wall. These doors led to a catwalk that circled the entire inside of the building. From the main catwalk branched several narrow catwalks that crossed over the large space. These were for maintenance, as they paralleled pipes, ran close to large lights, and passed large air ducts.
The old man led Henry to the rear of the office near the cinderblock wall. They sat in wide cushy chairs that surrounded a large conference table. The old man whispered, “I am quite sure the office is soundproof, but I would rather exercise extreme caution, given the circumstances.” He extended his hand. “My name’s Ralph.”
“Henry.” He took Ralph’s hand. He noticed that it was very hushed in the room. A quiet so complete that it made him feel as if he were deaf.
Ralph leaned toward him. “He probably can’t hear us at all, but we need to be careful. I don’t know when the other one gets back.”
“Other one?” Henry asked.
Ralph mopped his brow as he calmed down. “Yes, he seemed the more lucid of the two. He took off quite some time ago. I was only able to catch the last bit of what was said down there, but you mentioned benzodiazepine, Klonopin specifically?”
“Yes, apparently I have been given large doses of a psychoactive drug for some time.” Henry took a bottle of water off the table.
“Given the potent drugs and whatever else those two gave you, a long-term fugue state is quite possible.”
“Fugue states are rare, extremely so.” Henry looked dubious.
“Yes, but there are several documented cases of fugue lasting months, even years, during which time the individual functioned normally, often taking on new identities. Frankly, I’m surprised you aren’t dead, given the drugs and the alcohol abuse.” Ralph sighed and continued. “Good thing the other one dosed the two of you with sleeping pills before he left. That gave the drugs time to leave your system. Unfortunately, now there’s withdrawal to contend with.”
“What’s today’s date?” Henry the premed student had to get back to classes. As it was, he might have to skip a semester to handle the burial, the reading of the will, and other aspects of the estate. How he was able to put his grief on the back burner was a bit curious. It was probably an effect of the drugs and alcohol.