Authors: Zombie Bowl
“You think this’ll work?”
Michael nodded. “Her notebooks keep a running tally of the numbers, so unless she’s lying – which I doubt – it’ll work.”
Tommy slowed, nodded ahead of them. “Check it out. You ready for your bath?”
Michael pulled out his baseball bat. “You come in from the right; I’ll take the left.”
Tommy ducked behind an abandoned car. Michael held his position. Just for an instant he considered shambling up to it, as he’d seen May do. Maybe another time. He slipped low behind a bush. The crunching snow under his boots was the only sound he heard. One step at a time, around the hedge, behind a tree. The zombie stood silently between a truck and car. It didn’t look in any direction but straight ahead, as if lost in thought. It could have just been a random pedestrian if not for the rotted holes in its cheeks or the bald scalp black and oozing in the sunlight.
The zombie’s head turned to look over its shoulder, Tommy’s direction. Michael snuck closer, ducking low behind a truck when the zombie looked back. A low moan floated through the air. Michael tightened his grip on the bat. Peeked around the truck’s grill. The zombie slid forward a step, its awkward gate forcing it to lurch back, then forward. Behind it, Tommy’s head poked over a car’s hood. Michael took a deep breath and stepped out into the open. He rapped his knuckles on the truck to get its attention. Another moan, another step toward him. Tommy slid from behind the car; his axe held steady in the air.
Michael headed for the zombie, made no attempt to soften his steps. Tommy’s axe slammed into the zombie’s skull. A clean strike; the sharpened edge buried itself deep, and the undead crumpled. Tommy rocked the axe back and forth; the metal head squeaked when it came free. “Damn, I love doing that.”
The large man held the axe head up to inspect the bits of skull and blood and brain matter clinging to it. Shaking his head, and with a grimace that pulled his lips almost down to his chin, he wiped the axe across the back of his jacket, leaving a black smear on the material. “That girl must be crazy to do this.”
He wiped the flat edge across his sleeves; scooped up more of the fetid liquid to paint his jeans – front and back. Michael shuddered, but did the same thing. The urge to run to the B&B and bathe made his skin crawl. Another moan – this one soft and light – had him turning. The sound came from across the street. His eyes settled on the large sign in the front lawn. Tobbitt’s Elementary School. The moan came again, clear this time. Tommy looked where he did, and then to the front door of the school, torn off its hinges. Short, hunched figures loitered on the front porch. Much closer to them, a small person moved behind a truck.
“Run,” Michael whispered.
Tommy ducked low behind a car; Michael followed. The child zombie looked to have been about Max’s age. He couldn’t face that. Apparently neither could May, even after all he’d seen her do. She left this section of the city alone. And he should have asked why. He should have guessed. So many children. Innocent lives lost forever, replaced by death and hunger. May had never once mentioned any school – any children – in her writings. They were a guilt she couldn’t face.
Tommy slowed only when they reached the corner of Main and North Maple, with the school behind them. Michael looked back, but nothing moved among the cars and trucks. No moans punctuated the air. He looked up and down the street.
“There’s the overpass,” Tommy said. Staying low, they crept down the street, to the concrete bridge. On either side, the ground sloped gently. A Laundromat and a parking lot sat on the right side. At the corner was a house converted into an administration office. And on the left side sat a small house, another parking lot, and two roofs that peeked up over the bridge. Choked with vehicles, the overpass appeared to be abandoned. Only when the school was out of sight did they stand. Tommy looked over the bridge’s edge. He whistled. “Hey, here’s the station.”
Michael looked down, to the railroad tracks and train cars that were stopped between the station and a Phelp’s Lighting factory farther away. “I don’t see anything we can use as walls besides the boxcars. We’ll have to build the Zombie Bowl from scratch.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Tommy commented, swung his legs over the edge. He pushed off, dropping down onto the station roof with a thud. Then, “Come on down. We’ll get a better look.”
Michael followed. Looked straight down when he climbed onto the overpass ledge. Only concrete would catch his fall. He focused on the station roof a few feet away. Pushed off. Just a tiny flutter of panic touched his stomach as he landed. Safe, unhurt. Had May jumped off the overpass before like this? Tommy waved before he jumped down to the ground. Michael hopped down beside him.
“There’s plenty of room down here,” Tommy commented. “We move the trains out of the way; move the boxcars in a huge circle. And we can toast these fuckers from the bridge.”
“You see any way to move those boxcars?” Michael asked. Then stopped. Stared.
Tommy grinned. “You see what I see?”
Michael nodded. “That’ll do it.”
“There’s a crane down there we can use to move the boxcars into place,” Michael said. “It’s not a big one, but it should work,” he added. They all sat in the sitting room, the fireplace throwing orange light across each face.
“How many boxcars are there?” May asked.
“Ten, maybe fifteen we can get easy,” Tommy said.
May nodded. “That’s perfect.” She looked to Arti and Liz. “How was the jail?”
“We’ll have to reinforce the chain-link fence with some of that sheet metal you’ve got, but yeah, there’s plenty of room down there,” Liz said.
Arti nodded. “We checked the roof access too. No easy way to climb up, so they can’t get the blood bag if we hang it from there.”
“Um,” Liz started. “I was kind of surprised. We went inside but didn’t find any bodies. Did you…?”
May nodded. “The jail was my first major field test for my ammonia bombs. I also don’t leave bodies in the buildings if I can help it.”
“What about the Playhouse?” Michael asked.
“No good,” May said. “It’s built up on three sides, but they’re sloped and easy to climb. The stage is wide open; there’s nothing to build off of. There are a couple outdoor public pools I think we can use. Anymore and we might spread ourselves too thin.”
“So we start on the bowls tomorrow?” Marleen asked.
“Yeah,” May said. “With the weather, we’ll have to wait until Spring to hang the blood bags. But with the cold temps, we should be a bit safer during construction. We’ll probably need everyone for that.” She stopped suddenly. Frowned. Her eyes went to Michael’s. “Will that crane need electricity? I know where we can get some generators.”
“Yes,” Michael said. “We found the keys for it too. Shouldn’t be too difficult to operate.”
“All right, we’ll start tomorrow,” May said. “And then work on the jail when that’s done.”
“Uh, there’s one more thing,” Michael said. May looked at him. “There’s a school pretty close to the station. We need to do something about it or we’re going to be swamped before we get far on the Bowl.”
“School? What kind of school?” Cherise asked.
“An elementary school.”
Marleen looked at him. “Mike–”
Michael held up a hand to stop her. “I know what you’re about to say, Marleen, but we need to take care of this before something happens.”
“But they’re just kids,” she retorted.
“No, they’re not,” May said, her eyes on the floor, her voice quiet. “I’ve seen them.”
“This is ridiculous,” Marleen snapped. “Do you even realize what you’re saying?”
“It ain’t like we have a choice,” Tommy said. “Kids don’t attack you. They don’t take chunks outta you and try to eat you.”
Cherise shook her head. “That’s sick, Tommy.”
“I know that, but you didn’t see ‘em,” he said. “They ain’t kids. They ain’t human anymore.”
“We can use a few of May’s ammonia bombs; put them down easy. Nobody gets hurt,” Michael said. He glanced at May. “And nobody has to suffer.”
“I refuse to be a part of this,” Marleen said. She stood. “I’m going to check on Max and Rae.” The room went silent as the woman left. Her shoes scraped the wall and disappeared up the second floor.
Liz took a deep breath. “I can’t say I like the idea of assaulting an elementary school, but I don’t see that we have much of a choice.”
“Nobody has to help if they don’t want to,” Michael replied.
“I think I’d rather sit this one out,” Arti said and left the room. Sorrow in her eyes, Liz watched her go. But didn’t move.
“I’ll help,” Tony said.
“If you assholes’ll let me out of the house, I’ll go,” Rob grumbled.
Everyone ignored him. Michael looked at the remaining folks. “May, if you don’t mind, I think cleaning out the elementary school takes precedence over the Zombie Bowl. We’ll hit the school in the morning.”
“That’s fine,” May said.
“Great,” Michael replied. “If that’s everything, I suggest we use the rest of the day to relax.”
Without a word, they stood, but May rested a hand on Michael’s shoulder. He stopped, looked at her. She didn’t speak until the room was empty. “Thank you,” she said. “I was putting that one off…”
“It’s all right,” he said.
She shook her head. “It’s not. Schools have been getting harder and harder to clean out, and they shouldn’t be. Nobody can afford to leave such a dangerous pocket of undead so close to them.”
Michael smiled. “I think it’s ok to cut yourself a little slack.”
Her shoulders drooped. “No. That’s how people die.”
She walked out of the room, left him standing, staring after her. He knew four-star generals that were softer than she was, but maybe she had a point. To be alive for so long, when every little thing she did – when every little thing around her hunted her like prey – one slip-up, one measure of empathy, only started the countdown to the one fatal mistake that ended it all. Nothing could be taken for granted; nothing could be overlooked or purposefully ignored. Each problem had to be dealt with and resolved to prevent future mistakes. No sympathy, and nothing but a cold-hearted view of this world. Such an attitude took a lot out of a soul and put so very little back in.
He knocked on his bedroom door, opened it. Marleen sat on the bed, one of May’s notebooks across her lap. Wide eyes lifted. Met his. “I didn’t know,” she said, her gaze falling to the book. “I mean, I know what I heard about her life, but it just never really sank in.”
He sat down beside her and she squeezed his hand. “Be careful tomorrow.”
He wrapped her in his arms. “I will. I’m sorry.”
She buried her face in his shirt. “It has to be done,” she mumbled, her words muffled. “How else is Max going to have a normal childhood?”
He held her tight. Didn’t say anything. That was who this was all for, wasn’t it? For Max, for Ehvon and Blane, and the other children that survived this horrible nightmare. What Michael did here and now had a reason – a purpose. It didn’t matter what he did as long as he didn’t forget the
why
. Because of his son he had a reason to get up in the morning.
Michael could still smell the ammonia on his hands. It burned his nose hairs, and he felt like he couldn’t get it out of his lungs no matter how many deep breaths he expelled. He slid his pack on, compliments of May and a trip to the store. Ammonia bombs filled his and everyone else’s packs. Carpenter belts held their close range weapons. But the ordinary household utensils had him thinking he’d left the Marines for a militant version of domestic Headhunters. The thought brought a smile to his lips. Their destination stole it away.
He left his wife and son with Rae and Tommy’s two kids, while the rest suited up. Cherise looked a little sick to her stomach, as she slid her pack over her shoulder. She and Rob would need to disguise their scents before stepping foot in the school. The smell of freshly killed zombie would probably be enough to send her over the edge, but she stayed silent as they walked in a line down Lexington Ave. May turned down one of the side streets right before North Maple. They followed. As he walked, he caught glimpses of their destination, realized the streets ran parallel with each other. May stopped, cut through a snowy yard, to the back of a house facing the school.
“We’ll probably find undead in some of these houses,” May said. “We can use them to hide our scent. After that, we’ll hit the school. We have enough ammonia bombs to cover several floors, but they work best if they have time to sit – so the smell fills everything. But just wait here. This won’t take a second.”
Cherise held onto her boyfriend’s hand. Tony hovered nearby. Michael started to follow May, but the woman looked at him. “I won’t need any help.”
“You don’t know how many’s in that house,” he said. “You could be overwhelmed.”
She shrugged. He followed her to the back patio door. The glass doors were unbroken and through the slits in the blinds he saw the kitchen and part of the living room. Both rooms were dark, with the curtains pulled down. May stepped onto the patio. And knocked. Michael looked at her. She jerked her head toward the house. Shadows shifted inside. From the living room came two figures, a couple. May lifted her 9mm. Two shots spiderwebbed the glass. Both zombies sprawled across the linoleum. Michael stared. Why didn’t he ever think to knock?