The Zed Files Trilogy (Book 1): The Hanging Tree (19 page)

Almost an hour later, a black shadow passes over the house followed by a deafening boom. Everyone jumps and tries to
lie flatter against the floor. In the distance, in the direction of the compound, an orange glow lights the sky followed by the sound of explosions. The house shakes slightly as the concussion rolls through the earth.

“Jesus,” Ray says. No quack. No one else speaks for a very long time.

“I’m hungry,” Eddie says finally. “We should probably eat something.”

“Yeah,” Betty chimes in. “I’m starving.”

We all begin to tear into our backpacks and the boxes we had managed to bring in. In the bottom of my pack, I see the side of something shiny lying on the bottom of the main compartment. I pull it out and look at it. The mystery can. The lottery can. I turn it over and over in my hand.

“What is it?” Eddie asks from beside me.

“Dunno. Let’s find out.” I pick up the can opener and set about opening it. As I turn the handle, a clear liquid splashes up onto the lid. A final turn and the lid snaps free. I pry it off and look down into the can. The tiny mushroom parts float in an alien looking yellowish fluid. The stems and pieces are neatly arranged between the severed heads of the mushrooms.

“Well, that figures,” Kevin says from over my shoulder. “
Them things is worse than lima beans.” He shakes his head sadly. “Can’t eat them things out of a can.”

In the morning, we walk down the road back to the compound to see what is left. Tyler and Ray take the point, Kevin and I bring up the rear. The chance of running into a full blown
Zed diminishes everyday but there is still the chance.

We can smell the smoke as we walk along. It smells of burnt hair and plastic and metal and flesh. Karen stops to vomit in the ditch. Ray does the same.

As the compound finally comes into view, we can see that nothing is left. The main house, the bath house, everything is gone. Even the bunker sits with the top torn off like a can of sardines. The contents continue to burn and the fire is hot and high in some places.

“Well,” Ray says quietly. “At least she didn’t’ suffer.
Must’ve been pretty quick.” Even where the houses weren’t, big craters sit where a few of the bombs missed. It looks like the surface of the moon in red clay and tree roots. The timbers of the walls are blown apart like balsa wood. The brown stuff smolders and gives a nutty smell.

“What’s that?” Eddie asks and points up at a tree still standing at the edge. About half way up, Big Donna’s lifeless body hangs amongst the shattered branches. Her clothes are missing and her skin and hair are burned black.
The devoted follower of a dead world hung in sacrifice to the god of ritual, the god of control, the god of things long past.

“Every tree has an angel on top,” I mutter. We all turn away and begin our way back out. There is nothing here for us.
And nothing there for us. The leaflets from yesterday still blow in the wind; half burned or smeared with mud. The zombies of the new world are now faceless threats that strike from above. They will be much harder to survive.

The End

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Appendix

Weapons and Artwork