Fountain of the Dead (33 page)

Pierce hit the other side of the pond and took off again, arms and legs spraying water as he ran. Frank pulled himself out of the pond and followed the crashing. The swamp seemed to go silent at their pursuit. Frank grabbed on to a cypress tree for support. The shallow water like liquid onyx in the moonlight. There could be anything under the water, trapped in the muck, swimming around his feet, crawling through the mud, reaching for his legs. Pierce had stopped running, and Frank waited to hear the next crash or splash. He wiped sweat from his head and waved away mosquitoes.

“Frank,” Pierce called. “Let’s call it even. You let me go, and I run away.” Frank tried to pinpoint the voice and smiled. He continued forward again. Frank started to lose track of the time in the chase. He didn’t notice the sky getting lighter. Pierce’s crashing was slowing down. Frank broke through the trees and Pierce was there, clutching his side, and leaning up against a tree; moss like an old man’s beard hung down from the branches. The ground seemed strong and dry. Frank found a stick and prodded the ground with each step.

Pierce stood and started to walk backwards. Frank dropped the stick and took out his pistol. When his aim was ready, and his finger tensed on the trigger, Pierce bolted again through the trees. Frank went to follow, tripped over a root and the gun bounced away into the overgrowth. He grabbed his ankle, already starting to swell.

“Is it broken, Frank? I hope it is. I can hear you yelling.”

“You wish,” Frank spat and stood. He tested his ankle and took a small step. “I’m coming for you Pierce.” Frank took off at a slow limp and recovered the gun. The trees grew close, vines and mold hung down from the branches. The sun was up. Frank took out his pocket knife and drove it into a tree as a marker and limped on. Frank wound his way through the trees and stumbled up a hidden clear spot. The morning sun burned down. His tongue scraped against chapped lips and he dry swallowed. He looked up in time to see Pierce dive into a cave.

Frank took his secondary weapon from the small of his back; checked the gun, safety was off and round chambered. The cave was dark, some of the morning light penetrated in the inky blackness. He could hear Pierce breathing hard.

“I know you’re out there, Frank,” Pierce called. “Do you have a flashlight by chance?”

“Silly, psycho fuck. No! I don’t have a light. Do you think I stopped chasing you and ran back for one?” Frank threw his arms to the air and noticed a black splotch on his arm. He tore the leech off and checked for others; he shrugged his shirt off and removed the others on his chest. “How about I just shoot into the cave until you die?”

“Frank, kill me later. I need you in here.”

* * * * *

The cave was dark and shallow. Pierce was pressed against the far cave wall. A small pool bubbled in the cave surrounded by a rock lip no more than ankle high and no matter how much water bubbled in, it didn’t over flow. The lip of the pool was worn smooth.  Pierce dipped his hands in over and over taking sips of water. Frank pushed him out of the way then drank his share, never taking his eyes off Pierce. The water was cool and clear. He felt refreshed from the first greedy mouthful. The walls were covered in writings in several languages.

“Those are Spanish. De Leon’s men were here.” Frank pistol whipped him in the head and he fell to the cave floor. Pierce grabbed a handful of dirt poised to throw it in Frank’s eyes and Frank shot him in the hand when he went to throw it. Pierce screamed out in pain and dunked his hand in the pool. The wound bubbled and fizzed; he pulled his hand out and the skin re-grew before their eyes.

“Years of trudging through the swamps. Years of tours and Indian lore. Years of..”

“Years of being an opportunistic asshole.” Frank lowered the gun and shot Pierce in the head. He took a step closer and put another round between his dead eyes. Frank kicked him away from the pool of water.  “Just so you can’t come back,” and he fired again into Pierce’s skull.  Frank dragged Pierce from the cave and went back in before his torch burnt out. He took several more mouthfuls of the cool water, feeling his ankle heal as he drank and headed back to the lab, leaving Pierce’s body out in the open for warning to any that would follow.

Chapter 10

As Frank limped his way back into camp
he put more and more weight on his ankle with each step. Sharon waved at him from the roof of the shed. The door was open, letting in fresh air. None of the gators in front of the shed were moving. Sam came out with the ladder and planted it in the ground. Sharon did her best to ease off the roof after handing the rifle down.

“I thought there were more of these things,” Frank said and sat down under a tree.

“A bunch of them ran off, no idea why,” she said. “I think they might have been following you. What do you think of my carpet of death? I wish I could copyright that.” Micah ran out of the shed hearing Sharon’s voice and hugged her tight. “I told you I’d be fine, Micah.”

“Where is he?” Catherine asked walking out. She peaked around the corner looking for predators.

“Dead,” Frank beamed.

“By zombie?”

“By 9mm,” Frank held up the gun and kissed the barrel.

“And?” Catherine walked through the reptile corpses. Each step she expected one to come alive clamp down on her leg.

“There is a cave. Son of a bitch was right was right about that.” Everyone gathered around. “Any luck getting Beverly?”

“No,” Micah said turning his eyes down.

“The cave has a spring or something in it and it heals, just like back home and the water the fuck had on him. I don’t know about immortality, but it heals. I saw it myself for the second time.” Frank rolled up his pant leg to show his ankle, just discolored now. “I thought I broke it. The ankle was swollen and bruised. I can walk on it now.” Sam looked up at the sun to try and gauge the time.

“Do you remember how to get there?” Catherine asked. Frank nodded and fixed his pants’ leg. “Show the way.”

“I can, just give me a few minutes to rest.”

“What happened to your shirt?” Sam asked.

“Leaches, fucking leaches.”

* * * * *

They arrived at the cave; a cloud of insects already buzzed and crawled over Pierce’s corpse. Frank tried to block the sight best he could as those who fit squeezed in to the cave. Sharon and Sam wriggled out backwards so Frank could go in. Catherine knelt by the stone basin, watching the water bubble around her fingers.

“How’s it work?” Catherine asked.

“Get a wound, dunk it in and it heals.”

“Not very difficult.”

“No instructions necessary.” Micah bent low as he walked in. He ran his fingers against the cool stone of the cave. Micah’s shadow stretched out and blocked out the sun. Micah knelt down near the water and sketched.

“Is anyone wounded?” Catherine asked.

“I could shoot Sam in the foot if you ask nice,” Frank said.

“Or you could cut your hand with my knife,” Sam said and handed the hunting knife, handle first.

“I’m going to get you for this,” Frank said. “Déjà vu, eh Catherine?

Frank took the knife and eased a little closer to the pool. He grabbed the knife blade, down towards the meat of hand and made a loose fist. Gritting his teeth and taking a deep breath, Frank pulled the knife free; he growled in pain as blood flowed through his fingers. He opened his hand and showed the deep gash. Without a word, he dunked it into the water. The cool water tickled against his skin, bubbled and fizzed and clung to the wound. Frank raised his hand from the water and everyone watched as the wound knitted itself together. Frank opened and closed his hand and clenched his fingers over and over.

“That’s frigging amazing,” Micah said.

“You can start swearing, when you’ve talked a little longer,” Sharon said.

“Sorry.”

“How do we get this stuff back home?” Sam asked.

“In five and ten gallon containers, stolen from a gas station obliterated by zombies.” They all turned at Crowe’s voice. He threw the containers on the ground outside the cave and pulled out two guns. “None of you are fast enough, don’t even think it.” He took Sharon’s rifle and motioned to all the others, a pile of pistols landed at his feet. Frank’s was the last one to land. “Give me that satchel, kid.”

“No,” Micah said. Crowe fired a warning shot into the ground between Micah’s legs.

“Next shot and you’ll never have any kids.”

“Micah, do it!” Sharon shouted. He slid the shoulder strap free and tossed it out of the cave entrance.

“You,” Crowe said pointing his gun at Sam. “Gather up all the guns and drop them in the satchel and hand it back to me, gently.” While Sam picked up the guns, Frank slipped Sam’s knife into the fountain. “Mr. Crenshaw, thanks you for finding the spring, and I thank you for lugging those containers back to my vehicle.”

“Mr. Crenshaw,” Catherine hissed, “is a power mad asshole.”

“I agree,” Crowe said. “But he pays the bills. Not that I really have a lot bills anymore.” Crowe looked at Frank. “Fill those.” Frank stood and gathered up the red plastic gas cans. He unscrewed the yellow caps and dunked each one into the basin. The weak sunlight that filtered in around Crowe glinted a little from the knife’s blade. Frank covered the knife with the containers. The small pool refilled after each container was full. Frank lined them up outside the mouth of the cave.

“I should test that stuff,” Crowe grunted. He looked up towards the sky and blocked the sun with his hand. He looked over at Sam and shot him through the calf. “Make it work.” Sam screamed and fell over. Frank raised his hand to punch him; Crowe leveled the gun between his eyes. “Prove that thing works or I’ll kill each of you until I see it in action.” Crowe pulled back the hammer on the gun.

“Give me a hand, kid.” Micah rushed out the cave and grabbed Sam under an arm, Frank took the other. Together they dragged him back into the cave. Frank ripped his pants and rolled up the material past Sam’s knee.

“Take it easy, Sam. This is going to feel kind of funny.” Frank maneuvered Sam’s leg into the water. The expression of Sam’s face calmed as his leg healed. He lifted his leg from the water. The wound was gone, no scar. Aside from the blood on his pant leg and the bullet hole, there was no evidence. Frank reached into the water and pulled out the bullet.

“Heals gunshot wounds and, refreshing,” Frank cupped a handful of water and drank from it. Crowe motioned the others out of the cave. Sam stood nervously on his leg, testing his weight and then walked out. Micah snatched up his journals and ran out and stood behind Sharon. Crowe crouched and stepped into the cave. He shot a sideways glance as Frank and tickled the water with his fingers.

“Nice and cool.” Crowe bent his head for a drink and Frank drove the knife through his chin up into his skull. If he’d been two seconds faster, Crowe would have seen the glint of the knife. If he had been paying attention he could have blocked Frank’s attack and stuffed the knife into his throat. Frank took a step back to see what would happen.

The tip of the blade poked out from his hairline. Sunlight sparkled through the blood. Crowe looked over at Frank incredulously and fell face first into the pool. The water splashed from the basin and instantly dried on the floor of the cave. The water clouded over with Crowe’s blood. Bubbles of his last breath escaped his lips. Frank watched his fingers twitch once then stop.

“Let’s get out of here,” Catherine said. “I hate Florida.”

“Careful, people will mistake you for a postal worker,” Frank said and spun sensing movement behind him. Water from the basin splashed over the cave floor. Crowe sat up, the knife still lodged under his chin. He tried to open his mouth and the knife blade sawed through his lips.

“Can’t you just fucking die?” Frank grabbed the handle of the knife and pulled it down. Blood gushed down his hand. Crowe latched on to Frank’s hand in struggle. Even half dead, or half alive, Crowe was incredibly strong. If this was a fair fight, Frank knew he’d be dead in a heartbeat. Frank forced the blade deeper into Crowe’s skull and then pulled down again; sawing through bone, cartilage, and muscle. Micah started to scream at the sight. Frank and Crowe struggled for the handle of the knife. Frank had it firmly in both hands. Crowe let go of the knife and went for his gun.

Getting a better grip on the handle Frank pushed the knife up and out of Crowe’s head. Two inches of steel jutted out from the top of Crowe’s skull. The struggle left Crowe and he dropped to the cave floor. Frank kicked Crowe’s body over away from the pool.

“Won’t make that mistake again.” He looked at Crowe’s body half expecting it to get up and attack, pull the knife from his head and lunge. But it was still, no twitches, no death rattle, no last breath. Crowe was gone. Frank looked down at the basin; the water cleared, and all the impurities from Crowe’s blood filtered out.

“Is it too much to ask for my knife back?” Sam asked.

“You know where it is, feel free.” Frank walked out of the cave and wiped his hands on his pants. “I wish I had a shirt.”

“Me too,” Micah said. Micah took his satchel and handed the guns back.

“Let’s get these back to the cars. I’m sure Beverly is worried.” Catherine said. They picked up the containers, but Frank wasn’t following.

“I need to do something truly gruesome.” Frank patted down Crowe and took his guns, ammo and cell phone. In the pocket of his leather jacket was the most God-awful Aloha shirt he’d ever seen. Frank took it and put it on, and then reached for Sam’s knife.

* * * * *

Catherine gasped and screamed when they came to the vehicles. Beverly’s shredded legs still hung from the broken window. Everything else lay in the pile near the car. Micah turned and threw up and then ran for the Monte and dove in the back seat, dropping the water he carried on the way.

“Jesus,” Frank sighed. He put the water on the pavement and looked around. A few of the dead roamed the street; he looked over at Sharon, who was going to the Monte. “Sharon?”

“Out of ammo.” Frank took a step forward, aimed and took out the few he could see on the road; they crumpled into heaps on the asphalt.

“There must have been a shit load of these fuckers from all the bloody tracks on the road,” Frank said.

“You think their skin will cook, when the road gets hot enough?” Sam asked.

“You’re a sick fuck, Sam,” Frank said.

“We came down here with twelve,” Catherine said leaning against the Monte. “We’re going home with five. The only good things are we have the water, which we don’t know if it works against bites. And two of the dozen we came with, weren’t ours.”

“Don’t think too much about it Catherine. We all volunteered for this trip, one way or not.” Frank squeezed her shoulder trying to comfort.

“Maybe, Frank. But I’m the one going to tell Meredith her mother is dead.” They stood for a moment absorbed in their loss. Another friend left by the side of the road. This was their dearest loss yet. None of them heard the approaching footsteps.

“Or how about, I piss on the ashes of your village after I kill you all and fly back to Boston with this miracle cure.” Catherine turned at Crenshaw’s words. She instantly filled with the old hate.

“Hello Richard, you piece of shit,” Catherine said. “Took you long enough.” She moved so she wouldn’t have any part of her back to the man. Crenshaw walked out from the shoulder of the road. Catherine looked down the road to see a sedan parked about a quarter mile off; the afternoon sun reflected off the windshield.

“I drove all night to get here, and all I get is ‘Hello Richard’?”

“Should I swoon? Like I did when I was a young stupid girl? Fall into your arms, run slow motion with my hair blowing in the wind?” Frank looked over at Catherine, hand on his gun. She shook her head. “I should have smothered you in your sleep, you son of a bitch. Or driven a knife through your chest.”

“You two know each other?” Sam asked.

“She never told you? Any of you? Seriously?” Sam shook his head. Crenshaw walked around the Explorer and covered his mouth with a handkerchief. “Now that smell, is awful.” He kicked at the remains with the toes of his shoe. He glanced in through the window at Williams’ corpse.

“Williams there, hell of a scrounger. That guy could find anything I needed or wanted.” He turned and waggled his finger at the others. “If he couldn’t then he would torture and kill until he found it. Ruthless fuck he was.” He rounded the Explorer. “I suppose now that he’s dead, I’ll have to tell his wife and kid, or just throw them on the street. Whichever is easiest.” He leaned up against the Jeep. “But Catherine over there, Mayor, Chieftain, Dominatrix. Whatever you want to call her, used to be married to me, a long, long time ago. Couldn’t kill her daddy, didn’t kill me. Wouldn’t even call the cops on me. And I beat her bloody a few times.” The silence was palpable. “Nothing to say?” Frank took a step forward, ready to defend or attack. He felt suddenly foolish in the bright red Aloha shirt.

“About how you beat me and left me unconscious in the driveway? About how it took me over two weeks to recover from the injuries?”

“You hate me, don’t you, Catherine.”

“I hate zombies, I hate what the world has become. But you, I loathe. Two weeks to get over my wounds, Richard. It only took me two minutes to get over you. When I sped off in my van, I was through with you.”