Cities of the Dead: Winters of Discontent (4 page)

As unexpected as the zombies had
been, Ben found the feral nature of the surviving humans to be just
as shocking. At first, everyone had pulled together in an attempt
to survive, but five or six months in, societal cohesiveness began
breaking down into tribal allegiances based around family units,
whether longstanding or newly forged. By the end of the previous
winter, it was best to avoid new human contact as much as the
undead: people frequently shot first. This wasn
’
t the first time
he
’
d been on
this end of an ambush. If he lived through it, it probably
wouldn
’
t be the
last.

When he got to a spot near to where the bearded
man had been standing he paused and took a knee. There were others
out here and it was just as likely they were doing something like
he was doing, moving through the trees and forest undergrowth
looking for someone on the opposite side of the equation to
shoot.

And then he saw a skinny teenaged boy crouching
low behind a tree, a semi-automatic pistol in his hands, his hair
shaggy. The body of the bearded man lay on the ground a few feet
beyond him.Father and son? Ben winced inside for a moment at that
thought. He had always wanted to get married and have children, be
a dad living in the suburbs and cooking on a gas grill, watching
movies on Sunday night with the whole family gathered around the
television after supper.

He raised the shotgun and aimed at
the kid from twenty feet and said,
“
Toss the weapon toward the sound of my voice or
I
’
ll put a hole
through your skull.
”

The kid tensed and froze in place.

“
You know I will
because I just did. Don
’
t think about anything,
don
’
t look
anywhere, just take the gun and toss it on the ground my
way.
”

The kid lowered his head slightly in defeat and
tossed the pistol onto the ground half-way between them. Ben stayed
low and kept the weapon aimed at the kid as he walked forward and
picked up the pistol, stowing it on his back underneath his
belt.

“
Lay down on your
belly,
”
Ben said as he got
close to the boy.
“
Anybody
else on this side of the road?
”

The kid complied but said nothing.

“
Anybody else on
this side of the road? I don
’
t really like wasting my ammo on
people when there
’
re so many zombies about to be here, so if we can make this
ambush end more quickly, we can all get away just that much
sooner.
”

The kid turned his head and rolled
his eyes up at Ben.
“
No, it
was just me and Jake.
”

“
What
’
s
your name?
”

“
Roger.
”

“
Who
’
s
on the other side of the road?
”

“
Dave and
Mike.
”

“
You got a car
nearby?
”

The kid stared at him from the ground,
confused.

“
You drive here
or walk?
”

“
We got a truck
up the road a little bit.
”

And then Ben stepped over the boy
and slammed the stock of the gun into the back of his head,
knocking him unconscious. Ben slipped the kid
’
s gun out from
Ben
’
s waistband
and checked the magazine: eight rounds. Three short of full.
Everyone was running low on ammo anymore, what with the amount of
zombies that had had to be killed in the first year. And, now,
people. Ben crept up to the edge of the road and knelt down in some
tall scrub grass, scanning the area for the shape of a man in the
woods.

Three shots rang out to his right,
close to the truck but on the other side of the road. Ben raised
his shotgun and sighted down it as he swept it across the area. Two
more shots popped out and Ben grimaced: they
weren
’
t the
sounds of Glenn
’
s AR-15, but of a large caliber pistol.

Ben inched his way back toward his
vehicle, toward the sound of the shots, moving slowly and
carefully. Nothing else in the woods was making any sound and he
didn
’
t want to
snap a branch underfoot. He stopped when he caught sight of the
truck on the other side of the downed tree. A moment later, two men
emerged from the woods with weapons at the ready. The taller of the
two was bleeding from the guts and he was doing everything he could
to stay standing. The smaller man held a revolver in his right
hand, a hunting rifle slung over his back. He wore a camouflage
deer hunting outfit and a pair of dark black wrap-around sunglasses
on.

The taller man took a step toward the truck and
collapsed against it, falling to the ground and banging his head on
the road. He moaned in pain.

“
Mike, you gotta
help me into the truck.
”

“
I know, Dave,
and I will, but there
’
s still one other motherfucker out
here,
”
Mike said, looking
around.
“
Try and sit up and
use your weapon.
”

And then Ben saw the first of the undead on the
road behind the truck, a lumbering crowd of at least twenty zombies
shuffling toward the sound of the gunshots just exchanged. Ben
frowned and started doing the math of life necessitated by living
in this new world. The zombies were two or three minutes from the
truck, he had a pistol with eight rounds, a shotgun with four, an
adversary with a revolver, a dying man with a rifle, two likely
dead companions and a truck full of several weeks worth of
food.

And a fallen tree between him and all of
it.

He shook his head slightly, his eyes on the man
with the revolver who had ruined everything. The food was gone, the
truck was gone, his friends were gone. Again. Was it zombies or
human nature that caused it all, he wondered as he watched Mike
bend down and give Dave a sip of water from a canteen. None of this
had had to happen, but, in a cruel sense, it had also had to
happen.

He slipped a few feet into the
woods and began a slow retreat from the scene, constantly on the
lookout for the undead coming from other directions. You
didn
’
t find
them very often in the more wooded areas, but that
wasn
’
t a rule
you could count on. The undead had no rules.

A half-mile down the road he came across a Ford
150 parked off the side off the road, covered in branches. It was
locked. He looked into the bed of the truck and saw the normal
survival items: sleeping bags, canvas sheets, a jug of water. Just
a group of guys trying to find a way to stay alive. Just like
everyone in the world. Just like him.

Ben crossed the road and into the
woods on the other side, finding a spot behind a tree and hunkering
down. A couple of shots rang out down the road, where his vehicle
was trapped behind a tree, and he knew it wouldn
’
t be long. Minutes later, Ben
watched as Mike helped Dave down the road toward the parked pick-up
truck. Dave was pale and blood soaked his shirt and pants. Mike
held his pistol up and scanned both sides of the road as he helped
Dave, but Ben knew neither of them would make it out of the woods
alive. He
’
d
been on this end of an ambush a couple of times, too.

He waited until they got to the
truck, a dozen yards away from him, and began pulling the brush
from the hood when he raised the shotgun, sighted down it and blew
a hole in Mike
’
s back without ever saying a word. Mike slid down the
driver
’
s side
quarter-panel of the truck, leaving a smear of blood on it before
crumpling onto the ground, his head rolling over to face Ben. And
then Mike
’
s
eyes faded to dull and he was gone. Dave turned around and tried to
raise his weapon but Ben was already aiming at him.

“
Just drop
it,
” Ben said.

Dave took a moment to consider the
situation, his eyes flicking down to the lifeless corpse of Mike
and then stared directly into Ben
’
s eyes.

“
All of this, for
nothing?
”
Dave
asked.

“
Drop it or
I
’
ll blow your
head off.
”

“
You
’
re going to kill me
anyway.
”

“
You
’
re dead already.
I
’
m not going
to do anything to you if you drop that weapon. But
we
’
re down to
seconds, what with that horde of dead ones down the road, and
I
’
d just assume
save the round.
”

“
You
’
re going to leave me to them in
my condition?
”

Ben sighed and squeezed the
trigger. Dave bounced off the side of the truck and fell face down
onto the pavement. Ben found the keys to the truck in
Mike
’
s pockets
and collected his pistol and Dave
’
s rifle before starting the
truck. He turned the truck onto the road and looked down to where
he had been earlier with Peter and Glenn and saw the zombies
shuffling up the road. He stared at them for a long moment and
realized he no longer feared them the way he had the first months.
They were now a permanent part of the environment he lived in, a
fixed concern that factored into everything he did.

Life didn
’
t mean what it had meant when he
had worked at the bank. People were no longer customers who were
always right. Killing a living person in this new version of the
world didn
’
t
carry the weight of taking a life in the old world. There had never
been a shortage of assholes, but, now, it was okay to kill them. He
pushed down on the gas pedal and drove away, leaving behind another
moment in time he had never expected to experience.

It was a dog eat dog world.

***

THE START OF THE
BREAKDOWN

Banchory, Scotland - Day 57

Clennan stepped out of the shower
and toweled off, staring at his skinny body in the bathroom mirror.
His New Year
’
s
resolution to go to the health club and put some muscles on his
body had so far resulted in nothing noticeable. Maybe he needed
more protein in his diet?He walked into the adjacent bedroom and
pulled some underwear from the dresser, than sat down on the edge
of the bed to put on some socks.

“
Elyse,
it
’
s time to
get up,
”
he said into the
room, his wife still under the covers behind him.

Nothing. She
’
d been running a high fever and
vomiting the night before, and had gone to bed early, talking
nonsense. Her body temperature had gotten so hot at one point that
he had left the bed for the couch in the living room. On a normal
weekday morning, she would already have been up, drinking coffee
and getting ready for work at the flower shop. But
he
’
d had to
make the pot this morning, and the mug he
’
d set down on the nightstand on
her side of the bed hadn
’
t yet been touched.

“
Elyse, honey, do
you want me to call your father and tell him you
’
re sick and
won
’
t be going
in today?
”
he said, turning
on the bed and gently rustling her lower back.

Again, nothing. He pulled the covers down and
gasped: bloody mucus slicked her chin and pooled on the pillow near
her mouth; her skin was a dull, dry flaky gray and her hair was
matted down with drying sweat. He shook her gently,
again.

“
Elyse, honey,
are you okay? Can you hear me?
”
he said, touching her cheek and feeling a change in the
sagacity of her skin tone, her body not radiating heat. Her chest
didn
’
t rise and
fall with breathing.