Deadlocked 7 (5 page)

Annie tried to go to sleep, but she was too uncomfortable and annoyed. She hated it when Kim
talked about how she needed a boyfriend. Kim and Annie fought frequently, as sisters often do, but Annie’s solitude was a topic that Kim knew was a sensitive one. Annie had no romantic interests, and felt increasingly ostracized by the others for it.

She heard the tent’s zipper raise and sat up, expecting to see Kim. “What’s wrong? Is
n’t Arthur horny tonight?”

It wasn’t Kim. Annie yelped when she saw Mac’s face.
The shock of seeing him stole her breath away.

“I don’t know about Arthur,” said Mac. “But I know I am.”

He smiled and waved his pistol at Annie.

*   *   *

August 24
th
, 20 years after the apocalypse

Annie
has fallen from the steeple as the Rollers watched.

Annie collided with Dante’s corpse, her shoulder striking the spike that protruded from him. She wasn’t sure if it punctured her, but the pain was enormous and the force sent her body spinning. The next thing she felt was the ground strike the side of her foot, and then her leg as she collapsed to the sidewalk. Her head bounced off the pavement and the darkness was suddenly enlivened by a flash of pure white light.

The steeple was still collapsing, and the
wood snapped as the structure tore across the shingles. Annie heard a woman scream and she looked up in time to see the first few planks of wood fall. Then the weather vane that adorned the top of the steeple slid off the roof as the shingles rained down with it. Annie assumed that the vane had snapped free, but soon saw the rest of the steeple’s roof falling with it. She put her arms over her head and closed her eyes, fully aware that there wouldn’t be time to move.

“Annie!” Laura cried out her daughter’s name as the roof of the steeple crashed down.

The rooster shaped vane struck the iron posts first, which caused it to snap free from its base. Annie’s already wounded shoulder was the first part of her to be hit by the rest of the steeple’s roof as it thudded to the pavement. The roof settled at an angle against the posts beside her, leaving a tiny pocket of space where Annie lay. It had still crushed her shoulder, but miraculously she was alive.

There was another echoing crack of wood and Annie prepared to be squashed in her pocket as more of the roof fell, but then she heard a distinct, steady cade
nce of breaking wood that took her a moment to comprehend.

She realized that the floor of the steeple had given way, and that the large bell was careening down the shaft, breaking each wrung of the ladder as it went. It smashed into the floor inside of the church and let out an ominously low, hollow ring.

“David!” Annie used her left arm to try and pull herself free, but the roof was too heavy on her side.

“Annie?” asked Laura. “Are you okay?”

“No, but find David. Make sure Clyde and David are okay.”

“We’re going to get you out,” said Billy.

Annie could see their shadows mar the miniscule light that seeped in under the collapsed roof around her. “Go find David first. He was under the bell. Make sure he’s okay.”

“Go,” said Billy. “See if David’s okay.”

Annie wasn’t sure who Billy was talking to. She continued to try and slide out from under the roof, but it weighed too much.

“Is this your blood?” asked Billy, and again she wasn’t sure who he was talking to.

“Annie, is this your blood?”

She looked down and noticed for the first time that she was soaked. The pavement below her was wet, and her face was burning hot, a sensation that didn’t seem to make sense to her at the time.

“Annie, are you hurt?”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake,” she was frustrated by the seemingly ignorant question as well as with how helpless she felt.

“Are you bleeding?” asked Billy.

Was this Dante’s blood, or was it hers?

“I don’t know,” said Annie. “I guess so.”

“We’re going to try and move the roof off you,” said Billy. “But I want to make sure it’s not going to make your injury worse.”

Annie set her hand in the growing, warm pool. She hurt everywhere, but nowhere worse than her shoulder. Her position made it impossible to touch her wound, but she was fairly certain that she’d rather get the roof off instead of waiting around any longer. “Get this thing off me!”

“Okay, okay,” said Billy.

Annie braced herself as she heard Rollers gather around the collapsed steeple. They counted down and she cringed as the wood started to rise up. The release of pressure against her was a relief at first, but then she felt her waist being pulled up with it. Her hip was attached to the structure somehow, but before she could cry out in pain her body thudded back down. There had been a piece of wood lodged in her waist, but it slipped free, leaving her contorting in agony as the steeple’s roof was raised.

“Son of a bitch!” Annie reached to her right shoulder as soon as she was free and found a mess of shredded cloth and blood. Without thinking, she dug her finger into the hole in her shirt and was devastated with pain as it sunk into her open wound. “Fucker!”

“Oh God,” said Laura, who was standing near the entrance of the church. She had been the one that went inside to check on David, and had now come back out to see her only surviving child bleeding profusely on the pavement. “Annie, stay still.” She turned and screamed into the church, “Clyde, we need you out here.”

The wrecked partition that had served as a wall around the circle of trucks had been torn by the helicopter that crashed into it. Now they were exposed, and the zombies seemed finally willing to pay attention to them. Their lust for Kim’s corpse had abated, and they turned on the Rollers, enticed by the break in their defenses. Abe led the group that tried to secure the breach, firing into any creature that dared draw near.

“Is David okay?” asked Annie as she lay in the pool of blood.
Abe and the other Rollers increased their rate of fire, and each blast seemed to reverberate in Annie’s mind, causing a swelling pain in her ears and head. Then her stomach heaved and she thought she was going to throw up just before the ground started to spin beneath her.

Billy knelt beside her and he had a pained expression as he examined her face. She could see him, but his visage
split into multiples, and then reformed before splitting again. He started to speak, but she couldn’t hear him. It was as if he were mouthing words that never escaped his mouth.

A deafening hum drowned out all of the sounds around her, and even the gunfire faded as her vision
grew murky. Annie felt liquid on her eyebrows and tried to swipe her brow clean.

Something was wrong.

Her head throbbed.

She set her face down in the growing pool of blood and closed her eyes.

“Annie, stay awake!” Billy’s scream was barely a whisper, and his plea was of no use. She felt herself stop breathing.

Thirteen
years after the apocalypse

Arthur Laporte is in his tent at the trader’s camp.

“We got a tire for you,” said Jack as he peered into the tent.

Arthur had been expecting Kim, and was surprised when Jack unzipped the flap. “Oh, okay, that’s great news.” He stayed beneath the thin blanket he’d been provided.

Jack stayed in his spot, looking into the tent with a presumptuous expression. “Well, are you coming?”

“Now?”

“Yeah, now,” said Jack.

“It’s snowing like a bastard out there,” said Arthur. “Let’s hold off until morning.”

“Come on, you lazy ass. A little snow’s not going to kill you. I just want to make sure the tire will fit.
If it doesn’t, I could use your help finding one that will.”

“Okay, give me a minute to get dressed.”

Jack leaned out of the tent, but left the flap unzipped. Arthur got his boots back on and then bundled up. He stepped out into the cold and was surprised by how bitter the wind felt. Jack looked haggard and freezing, his nose well beyond red and bordering on purple. He had his gloved hands over his mouth and nose as he breathed into them for warmth.

“
Finally,” said Jack. “Come on, the car that looks like yours is down by the pit.”

“What’s the pit?” asked Arthur.

“The place down there where we toss our garbage. Benny and Paul will take you. They’re the ones that found it. You should thank them, they’ve been out in this cold searching for a while.” Jack introduced the two young, thin men that had found the tire. One of them had a smattering of hair on his chin and was gaunt, almost sickly, with a scar on his cheek that stretched back to his ear. The other one, named Benny, had a square jaw and a sturdier look than his friend, but was still much smaller than Arthur.

“Thanks,” said Arthur, although he felt on edge. There was something odd about the situation, but he was comforted knowing there was a pistol tucked into his waistband
next to his favorite blade.

“Come on,” said Benny. He looked ill-suited for being out in the cold, protected only by a thin jacket and no hood. His arms were crossed, but Arthur could see the straps of a chest holster; he was hiding a gun.

Arthur knew he was walking into a trap, but he didn’t want to attempt to escape yet. He assessed the situation and knew it would be better for him to get as far from the camp as possible before trying anything.

“This way,” said Paul as he started to walk away from the campsite.

Benny smiled and waited for Arthur to walk ahead. In that position, Arthur knew he was vulnerable to the man behind him, but he wagered that they wanted to get away from the camp before shooting him. They probably didn’t want to have to clean blood and brains off the tents, and fresh corpses tended to attract attention from any nearby Greys, so Arthur did as he was told and walked between the two men on the way out of the fenced camping area.

The snow crunched beneath their feet and Arthur noticed that there were no tracks leading back to the camp from where they were headed. These men weren’t even trying to fool him anymore.

“How did you guys get stuck with this job?” asked Arthur.

Paul snickered but Benny was the one to answer. “We’re the youngest. That’s the way it works with us, the youngest get the shittiest jobs.”

Arthur glanced back at Benny, and past him at the camp that was about twenty yards away now. The young man smiled at him with his arms still crossed, his right hand tucked into his jacket, probably on the hilt of his pistol.

“I know how that feels,” said Arthur. “I spent some time training with a group of former
soldiers and police down south. It was pure hell, but I learned a lot.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Benny. “Like what?”

“Like how to kill a man before he kills you.”

Arthur tucked his fingers back, tightening up his fist as if it were an animal’s paw, and then
swung backward. The side of his hand caught Benny in his Adam’s apple. The young man’s eyes grew wide and his body went rigid, his hand still tucked into his jacket. Benny’s arm quivered and then the boy collapsed to his knees.

Arthur let Benny fall to the snow as he drew his pistol and pointed it at Paul. The other young man was stunned and fumbled for the gun in his coat. “Hold up, little guy. Just stay still and you’ll make it out of here alive.”

“What’d you do to him?” Paul stared at his friend as Benny lay face down in the snow.

“I stopped him from shooting me in the back of the head.”

“You’re nuts, man. He wasn’t…”

“Quit with the act,” said Arthur. “Put your hands on your head and get on your knees.”

“Is he dead?” asked Paul as he knelt down in the snow.

“If he’s not, then he’ll suffocate in a minute if you don’t do everything I tell you to.”

“Fucking hell, what are you, some sort of commando or something?”

“Something like that.” Arthur took a revolver from Paul and tucked it into his pocket. “So when did you guys kill the traders?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Paul was shivering, but not from the cold. His hands were on his head as Arthur walked around the back of him.

Arthur put his gun away and pulled out his preferred weapon, a custom-made
six inch blade that was diamond shaped, tapering to a point, instead of a standard flat design. It was a weapon that he’d been given by the soldiers that had trained him in the southern area of Colorado. They were known as The Department, and were friends of the original captain of the High Rollers, Reagan.

Flat blades, which were what most people carried, were good for menial tasks, but inferior for killing. The knife that Arthur had been given wasn’t made for slashing, but rather for plunging into a victim. Its unique shape
caused wounds that would take a long time to heal, and often left the victim to bleed to death if they survived the initial attack. That’s how the knife had come to be known as The Bleeder, and Arthur treasured it.