Authors: Horace Brickley
“How’d it go?” asked Jesse.
“About thirty of them,” said Nathan. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“Who wants preservatives and salty bosh?” asked Blake.
Tim raised his spindly arm.
“Catch,” said Blake and he tossed a can of soup u
nderarm to Tim.
Tim caught it and read the label.
“Lukewarm clam chowder! You shouldn’t have,” he said.
Each day they took turns alternating who would sca
venge and who would protect the bikes and rest. Tim was exempt and rested between rides. As for food, their supplies lasted them for the first week, but the sojourn in the redwood forest had cost them. They survived on what canned food and junk food they could find. None of the group knew much about the local flora, and no one wanted to risk getting ill. Their meager intake caused them to slim down further and the harsh California sun burned their skin. Jesse thought that the others were beginning to look like jerky: shriveled and tan. All except for Blake, his skin became red enough to match his fiery hair. Complaints were voiced often, but Jesse felt no sense of mutiny — even from Danielle. He knew that they believed in him and his goal, at least enough to follow him to San Diego.
They rode on the highway and they had a vantage point of what happened to Stockton. Much like the other cities, cars and trucks littered the road: some upturned and others destroyed or abandoned. Off-putting dark stains dotted the roads. Just like the other towns, there were no bodies — only reminders. No band of raiders tried to halt them and they saw no reanimates. Nathan pointed out a downed military helicopter east of the highway.
The military had never attempted to save Silverdale. By the time the reanimates had reached that part of America, the war was already lost. Most of the remaining military personnel had already abandoned their posts and gone home to protect their loved ones, not that they would have helped much. It was not the fighting that killed most people. It was the abrupt end of modern life. Supply lines were cut. The electric grid went down. So much of modern life was contingent on constant access to electricity and supplies and neither of those things were available when the shambling dead waged their war. The shipments of goods stopped, the power went out, medicine ran out or expired, and soon all the old, sick, and infirm were dead. Next went the young and weak. After that, anyone else that could not figure out a new way to live starved or killed themselves. That ended up being almost everyone. All the reanimates had to do was the clean-up work. They operated like bipedal coyotes picking the cities clean of all the dead meat.
“Shit shit shit!” Blake yelled. The brakes screamed as he came to an abrupt stop. Nathan swerved out of the way and almost dumped his bike.
“What the fuck, Blake?” Nathan said.
“We’ve got company,” Blake said and pointed at a shifting mass of reanimates a quarter-mile ahead on the interstate.
“Jesus, that’s a lot of them,” he said.
Jesse, Danielle, and Tim slid to a stop behind Blake.
“I’ll distract them, you all ride around,” said Jesse.
“So we just leave you here and then we fend for ou
rselves?” said Danielle.
“No, I’ll wait until you guys get past them and then I’ll catch up.”
“Come on, man,” Tim said. “That’s risky. Why don’t we just go around?”
“We need to make sure they don’t follow us. It’s ge
tting close to dark,” said Jesse.
Blake, Danielle, and Tim looked at each other. They turned to Nathan. Nathan shrugged.
“Fine,” said Danielle.
Jesse rode up to the group of reanimates. When he was a few yards
away, he stopped and hopped off his bike. He swung out the kickstand and let the bike rest. One of the creatures was a few feet away by the time he got his axe out of his belt. It lunged at him. He grabbed it by the neck and squeezed as hard as he could. Its bones crumpled and its throat collapsed in Jesse’s death grip. He lifted the frail thing up in the air and slammed it on the ground. Two others closed in and reached for him. His vision went red and his bottled up rage uncorked. Rotten bodies flew and reanimated limbs were disconnected from the source of their power. Jesse let into the crowd of undead like a tornado. He did not see the others as they rode through the mess.
…
“It’s been an hour. We should go get him,” said Danielle.
“He’ll be fine,” said Blake.
“I’m not so sure.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Maybe we’re better off on our own,” said Nathan.
Danielle walked up to him and delivered a left hook to his jaw. Nathan’s head moved but nothing else.
“I’m going back there. The rest of you pussies can do what you want,” Danielle said.
“Yeah, pussies,” said Tim. He ran to catch up with Danielle.
They all got on their bikes and headed north. The sun was setting and the last bit of light was shining in their eyes.
Ahead they saw two bodies standing. Danielle could not make out more than their outlines. One of the si
lhouettes fell over.
They rolled up on a nightmare scene. Bodies strewn about and limbs scattered in odd piles. Jesse stood alone clutching his axe. He looked up. Danielle could barely see his face through all the chunks and ropy strands of gore and smeared coagulated blood he wore like mac
abre makeup.
Her eyebrows raised and she opened her mouth. He locked eyes with her.
“I got carried away,” he said.
“You ain’t bullshitting,” she said.
“I’m ready to go now.”
“Uh huh. Yeah, let’s do that, but keep your distance until you get cleaned up,” she said.
…
In another week, they were near Coalinga.
“The smell is gone,” said Jesse.
“What do you mean?” What smell?” asked Danielle.
“The cows,” said Jesse.
“Is this the part where you go crazy and kill us all? What cows are you talking about?” asked Blake.
“You guys never drove down this way before?” asked Jesse.
“No,” said Blake. The others shook their heads.
“This was where one of the largest slaughterhouses in America was. You could smell it for miles. I used to roll up my windows and turn on the AC, just to filter the air enough to make it manageable. But now — no smell."
“That's because the cows are all dead,” said Nathan.
“How do you know that?” asked Tim.
“Those weren't wild cows, man. They were domest
icated. There's no one left to feed them all, and probably not enough grass for them anyways. I wouldn't be surprised if every last one of them is dead," said Nathan.
“Yeah, that's probably what happened, just a bunch of starved cows sitting around waiting for food,” said Jesse.
“That's more or less what happened in Eureka too,” said Danielle. “I was one of those cows until Nathan showed up with Blake. I'd say Tim was too, but he would have made a shitty cow.”
“Yeah all skin and bones. Remember that if we resort to cannibalism. I'll taste awful," said Tim.
"We all thought they were coming back. You know, the people in power. Congressmen. Mayors. Generals, et cetera,” said Blake.
“I did too, at least for a while. I expected to see some helicopters or soldiers, but they never came,” said Jesse.
The conversation died out, and they stood there with their mouths closed. Jesse got back on his bike and pedaled down the exit leading to Highway 33. They had debated about whether to take the easy and direct route, Interstate 5, or to take the more difficult and treacherous route, Highway 33. They had all chosen a rural mountain route, after the prospect of trying to bike through downtown Los Angeles was discussed. Both ways seemed likely to end in death, but traveling through the middle of a major metropolitan city was an unnecessary risk. So they progressed at a slow pace through the rural highway. It doubled their travel time, but the days went by without issue. They saw no one. When the road was too difficult to bike, they walked. When it was too cold, they made a fire and huddled together. After a week, they were staring at the ocean and the road that would take them down the coastline: Highway 1. They rested for a day on the beach. The frigid air made it hard to sleep, but the sight of the ocean lifted everyone’s spirits.
When the morning tide came in, the group mounted up and went southbound on Highway 1. After a few minutes of riding on the highway, a sign caught Jesse's eye — East Harbor Boulevard.
“Let's take this road!” Jesse yelled. “I have an idea.”
The others did not protest and followed his lead. Soon, an upper-class utopia appeared before their eyes. Hundreds of cookie-cutter suburban dwellings bordered a man-made river that dumped out into the ocean. Next to most of those dwellings were sailboats.
“Any of you guys know how to sail?” asked Jesse. A chorus of “no” followed. Many of the boats were gone, but a surprising number remained. Jesse wondered how many rich yacht owners were out at sea now. Were any of them still alive or were they lost without their GPS systems? The boats looked weathered, but some were still in good shape. The lawns of these once-pristine houses were overgrown and the windows and doors were either boarded up or bashed in. This affluent American neighborhood had met the same fate as those in North Africa and China. Death had finally brought equality to America, although not the type that anyone had envisioned.
“This is a nice place. Too bad we can’t stay here,” said Blake.
“It all worked out the same for these people,” said Jesse.
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t remember who said it, but there was this quote that stuck with me from college. ‘Pale Death beats equally at the poor man’s gate and at the palaces of the kings
.
’ It seems relevant now.”
“Yeah. Well, pale death definitely beat the hell out of something. Speedboat!”
Blake’s almost lost his balance as he gestured wildly to the boat. Jesse laughed, but his skin prickled upon hearing Blake’s exclamation.
In the dock attached to the backyard of the third beige house on the waterfront side of the street, an off-white speedboat with a large red stripe sat floating in the calm water. The five of them abandoned their bikes in the driveway. There was no car in the drive. The ow
ners had taken their chances on the road. Jesse hopped the fence and jogged up to the boat. There was a small shed near the dock. Jesse smashed the lock with his axe and searched the shed. It was full of tools he did not know how to use. The air was thick and musty. Jesse spotted unopened jerry cans and felt his stomach clench. He picked one of them up, and the weight of them was telling. It was full.
“Guys!” Jesse yelled. “You aren't going to believe this!”
Jesse emerged from the shed with two of the red jerry cans in his hands. Tim came over the fence and Jesse could see his shock through the bandages on his face.
“You've got to be shitting me. They're really full?” asked Tim.
Jesse shook the cans and the contents made a loud sloshing sound. Tim laughed and clapped his hands like a child on Christmas morning. When Jesse showed the others, they all reacted the same way.
“It might not start, though,” said Nathan.
“We can still try it, and either way we have gas that we can use for starting fires,” said Jesse.
Jesse climbed up into the boat and filled up the gas tank. The boat had a large outboard motor, but it had been exposed to the elements for almost a year. The key was hidden in a fishing tackle box under a pile of wet
life jackets. Jesse turned the key and the motor rumbled. The five of them clapped and whistled. They did so loud enough to bring out the dead. As they were loading the supplies onto the boat, a reanimate sneaked up on Danielle and grabbed her by the shoulders. She fell backward in surprise, so hard that she rolled over the creature. The others turned and saw her tumbling and Nathan bolted over and ended the creature without ceremony. Danielle drew her saber and looked around. A dozen other creatures lined the fence. They pushed at the boards and some reached over them. They stared at the group with those lost, soulless eyes. The gate was unlocked and a reanimate managed to pull with enough force to flip the latch. It entered the backyard. This time, Danielle was prepared and she lunged and buried her saber in the creature's face. She pulled her sword back, and the thing crumpled into the weeds of the unkempt backyard.
“Let's go!” Jesse yelled. They all piled into the boat and Jesse steered it out into the ocean. The rest of the reanimates made their way into the backyard. They walked forward until they fell into the water. Jesse knew they would pursue them, even underwater. The engine protested as he turned the throttle, but it kept running. For the second time, Jesse braved the ocean toward the woman in his dreams. This time he did so with a sense of accomplishment.
The sun set as they made their way down the coastline slow and steady. The dangers of the dark were not as bad in the open sea. Jesse piloted the boat for hours on end. He was afraid that if he turned off the engine that it would not come back to life again. Tim and Blake offered to relieve him, but he refused. He felt excitement and dread. The moon had risen and fallen and risen again when Jesse yelled out, “That's La Jolla Shores! We're almost there.”