Apocalypse Atlanta (25 page)

“There’s enough pain and suffering happening today.” he said, his face composed in stern lines though his eyes flashed fiercely.  “There ain’t no need to be adding to it.”

“He done shot three kids Mr. Soul!” Smoke said, pointing a finger at Bobo, who hadn’t lowered his pistol.

“Were they hurting others?” Mr. Soul asked, shuffling forward slowly.  “Seems to me, as I look at what I see here, they were.”

“That ain’t no cause to go shooting kids in the head.” Stick protested.

“They had gone to be with our Lord.” Mr. Soul said, his voice loud and sad.  “But their bodies remained to do Satan’s deeds, and that could not stand.”

There was silence except for some sobbing.  The woman in Darryl’s arms had ceased her struggles, and hung limply against him.  Her head was turned, and he thought she was looking at the teenager who had been attacking Ape, but when she spoke he realized she might have, instead, been looking at Mr. Soul as he hobbled closer.

“He in Heaven now?”

Mr. Soul’s face was still stern, but now his eyes were shading towards compassion rather than challenging defiance.  “Sister, He tends His flock like a shepherd, gathering the lambs in His arms and carrying them close to His heart.  Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His faithful.  Your boy’s with God now.”

The woman took a staggering step forward, and Darryl released her.  She made it almost to the dead teenager who lay motionless on the grass next to the spray of brain and bone before collapsing to her knees.  Her wail was loud and heart wrenching.  Mr. Soul reached her a moment later, leaning down and patting her on the back and saying something only she might be able to hear.

Darryl glanced around, checking the reactions.  Shock; a lot of shock.  A little anger, still, but less than there had been a few moments ago.  And confusion in varying degrees.  He moved closer to Bobo, wanting to be in position to assist in case the spell Mr. Soul had seemingly cast ended, and the anger moved back to the fore.

“Nine-one-one busy!” Big Chief said suddenly.  Eyes moved to him, and he held up his phone as if to illustrate what he meant.

“So try again.” someone said after a few moments.

“I done tried three times.” Big Chief said, looking puzzled.  “It won’t go through.”

“What you calling nine-one-one for?” Low asked.

“Ambulance.  We need us an ambulance don’t we?”

“Couple of ambulances.” Mad muttered unhappily.

“No ambulance gonna help us.” Bobo said loudly.

Smoke turned back to Bobo with a hostile expression.  “No, you just don’t want the cops out here to haul your ass in for killing kids.”

“Ain’t gonna be no cops neither.” Bobo said, sounding more irritated than angry, or afraid.

“Yeah, why?”

“Because we are in the end times.” Mr. Soul said, straightening and raising his voice again.

“This ain’t no time for preaching.” Chrome grumbled.

“This is the perfect time.” Mr. Soul said before he walked out a little more from everyone, then turned so he could better face them all at once.  “While you’ve been out here partying, Brother Bobo and I have been watching the news.  Believe me when I tell you we are at the beginning of our final test on this Earth.”

Darryl heard some mutters, but no one quite dared to raise any actual protest.  Mr. Soul was a retired Baptist preacher, retired only because his congregation had insisted after his third heart attack.  The life of a preacher was consumed by the needs of his congregation, and it had been wearing Mr. Soul out.  But even in his twilight years, or perhaps especially, he had lost none of the fire and passion that had brought him to preaching in the first place.  His stamina might be lacking, but that was all.

“Everyone stay calm and listen.” Bobo said.  His voice, though louder, didn’t quite carry as much as Mr. Soul’s trained tones.  Everyone heard him though, and heads turned.  Bobo lowered the pistol slowly, but kept it in his hand and in view.  “Some of the people on the news is using the word zombies.  And the pictures they showing make it hard to argue with them.”

“You for real?”

Bobo shrugged, but he also nodded once.  “That what happening.  Downtown, around Atlanta, and now here.”  He gestured at the dead kids, and at the wounded.  Some people were busy using paper towels and washcloths to clean and slow the blood flow.  Ratboy was lying flat on the ground, slowly bleeding out.  Darryl was already thinking of him as dying, rather than merely wounded.  There was just so much blood on the grass around him.

“So what that got to do with us?”

“It got everything to do with us.” Bobo said tightly.  “We here, ain’t we?  Zombies here, ain’t they?”

“Ain’t no zombies here.”

“No?  What you think they was?” Bobo demanded, pointing at one of the kids he’d shot.

There was silence.  Darryl looked, like nearly everyone else, at Mr. Soul.  The preacher smiled and spread his hands as if welcoming their questions.  “Evil takes many forms, for Satan is eternally devious and patient.”

“Look.” Stony stepped out from the densest portion of the crowd, near the clubhouse.  “I ain’t disrespecting you Mr. Soul.  But just cause you say they zombies . . . that crazy talk, ain’t it?  Zombies ain’t real.”

Mr. Soul shrugged slowly, as if the challenging question was of no consequence.  “You’ve eyes so you might see what God wants you to see, even if Satan tries to trick you.  Look now at what has happened here, and know truth.”

“Yeah, look.” Bobo said, moving to the closest of the wounded Dogz.  “See, that ain’t no cut, and it ain’t no tear neither.  That a bite, a full on taking a chomp and eating it bite.  See, come look.  Don’t just hear me and wonder.  Walk on over here and look.”  He pointed at the gaping hole in Ape’s arm, and in Hooligan’s too.  Darryl looked, and couldn’t think of anything else to call the wounds than what Bobo had.  They were bites, sure as sure could be.

“So, they was trying to eat people?”

Bobo nodded.

“Why?”

Bobo shrugged and glanced over at Mr. Soul as if asking for help.

“We have always been caught between Heaven and Hell.” the preacher said.  “Today, Hell is a little closer than it was yesterday.  We’re to overcome it, same as we are everything else Satan sets in the path we walk to God.”

“How?”  Darryl was startled to discover he’d asked that question.

Bobo turned to him, giving him a measuring look.  Darryl was suddenly a little embarrassed; Bobo had tried to warn him about this a couple of hours ago, and he hadn’t listened.  Now four people were dead, and five others were hurt.

“We need to stop fucking off and get ready for what’s coming.” Bobo said.  “There new rules in play, and we gotta know that or there ain’t gonna be no tomorrow for us.”

Bobo looked around slowly, taking his time to study each face before moving on to the next.  People shuffled their feet, or glanced around to see how others were responding, but no one said anything.  Bobo finally finished his survey and moved towards the fire pit.

“Rule One.  Until we know how people turning into zombies, everyone gotta be watchful.  Stay in big groups, don’t wander off in small ones.  Big group, there a chance to stop someone if they start trying to eat somebody.  Small group, more likely a zombie gonna get you.

“Rule Two.  Everyone armed, all the time, everywhere.  Even in the bathroom.  If you old enough to drive, you old enough to help defend us.”

“We ain’t got no guns for that.” Shooter said.  “I mean, I can loan someone my backup piece, but even then . . .” he shrugged.  Darryl knew he was right; appearances of being big bad bikers to the contrary, the majority of the Dogz were just guys who enjoyed riding motorcycles and hanging out with their friends.  Even without checking there would be few weapons available to put in people’s hands.

Bobo nodded.  “I getting to that.  Rule Three.  Dogz first, everyone else second.”

Darryl frowned, turning that one over in his mind.  At first impulse, it sounded pretty redundant.  The Dogz always focused on their own first.  That was sort of the whole point of being in the club.  But, as he thought a little more, his brow furrowed.

One of the women beat him to the conclusion.  “What that mean?  You kicking out anyone without a patch?”  She looked familiar, and Darryl placed her after a few moments as an ex-girlfriend of Stick’s.  An ex-girlfriend who’d been with Stick longer than most of his exes, one who might have maybe married him if things had gone a little differently.  What was her name?

Darryl was still trying to remember that when Bobo replied.  “Naw, that ain’t quite what I mean.”

“Well?  What then?”

“If you got a patch, you a Dog.  If you here now, or if you family, then you a Dog too.”

“My family ain’t all here.” Needles said loudly.

“Then make some calls.  Everyone who got family left outside, you make some calls and tell them to get here.  But they need to hurry, ‘cause based on what I seen on the news, there ain’t much time before things get real bad.  But no one coming here is gonna stay who ain’t being vouched for by a Dog.”

Darryl saw a few of his brothers pull phones out, while a few more started trying to argue.  Bobo shook his head definitely.  “End of discussion.” he said flatly.  “Now, here’s what we gonna do.”

* * * * *

“You look tired.” Jessica remarked to Candice, who was belatedly covering a yawn as she sat back from the empty plate of cookies.  “Why don’t you go take your bath and get into your PJs, okay?”

“Okay.” Candice said agreeably, pushing back from the table and making as if to pick up her plate.

“Thank you for remembering sweetie, but mommy will take care of that.”  Jessica said quickly, making a motion for her to leave the plate on the table.

Candice nodded, then turned and left the dining room.  Jessica surveyed the remains of the meal, one of her daughter’s favorites.  Pizza with chicken and pineapple, French fries with barbecue sauce, and grandma’s cookies.  Only a few pieces of the two pizzas were left on the circular baking pans in the center, though there were probably two or maybe three servings of fries still in the paper towel lined basket.

When she heard Candice’s footsteps on the stairs, Jessica waited another few seconds, then gave her mother a look.  “Mom, did you dose my daughter?”

“Why Jessica, would I do that?” Sharon asked innocently as she nibbled on a cookie and raised her eyebrows.

“Yes.” Jessica said with a firm nod.  “You used to do it to me until I caught you crushing up the allergy pills.  The glass of milk you were going to hand me, with the pills in it, was right next to you on the counter.”

“Ah, and times were harder after that.” Sharon said with a smile.  “Candice needs to sleep, and after what she’s been through it might come harder than you or she’d like.  I gave her a children’s dose.  Sometimes it can be handy if something induces drowsiness.”

Jessica sighed, but couldn’t really find an argument she felt like making.  Her mother was probably right.  “Well, I’d better get this cleaned up.”  She said, standing and starting to stack plates.  Sharon helped, taking the serving dishes into the kitchen behind her.

Jessica pulled down a pair of Tupperware containers to put the leftover pizza and fries in, and dumped the cookies into the cookie jar on the counter while her mother rinsed the plates and glasses before putting them in the dishwasher.  She took the dish cloth into the dining room and wiped the table down, then came back into the kitchen just as her mother was tucking the baking sheets into the dishwasher next to the other dishes.

“There, now let’s sit down and find out what’s going on.” Sharon said.

Nodding, Jessica went into the living room, where her father had already claimed the remote and turned the television over to his favorite newscast.  Jessica settled herself in the recliner Brett had always favored, while her mother joined William on the couch.  Her father gave her a quick glance, his eyes warm and welcoming.  But she could see the worry in them, especially as he flicked them back to the television.

The screen was displaying a map of America, with swaths of red and orange marked all across it.  Cities were labeled with dots and text, black outlined with white that showed up quite well against the colors.  She looked automatically at Georgia, and saw Atlanta was coated in red, with nearby Athens similarly crimson hued.

For some reason she found that, momentarily, funny.  The color they were using was the same as the UGA sports teams.  It almost made her smile, she felt her lips starting to curve for an instant, but then the image of Joey and Sandra earlier this afternoon flooded in to chase the humor away.  She blinked twice and resumed examining the map.

The northeastern United States had a callout box in the upper right corner of the screen, since on the big map it looked like a solid red mass.  In the callout, she saw every city that was marked was also covered in red.  Glancing across the rest of the map, she noted that while the major west coast cities, like Los Angeles and San Francisco were red, nearly all of the marked and shaded areas in the adjoining states like Nevadan and Arizona were orange or even yellow.

She realized someone on the broadcast was speaking, a voice she’d been ignoring as she studied the map.  Shaking herself mentally, she started listening properly so she could hear what was going on.