Fountain of the Dead (34 page)

“I should have burnt you people out years ago. I let you stay and live. Found you all a little amusing. I always liked to keep track on my Catherine. Whenever you made your pitiful attempts at trading, I always allowed it.”

“When I found a new place to live, Richard, I aborted the thing growing inside me. I was afraid of giving birth to another...you.” Crenshaw looked hurt for a very brief moment, then his arrogance and cockiness returned.

“Can we get on with this horse shit moment please? I want to go home,” Sam said. “That house I live in ain’t much but it’s been my home for six or seven years now.”

“About that,” Crenshaw said. “Did you have fire insurance?” Waters and Frost stepped out from the shoulder of the road. “We had a little party while you were gone. Call it a bonfire party. But the only wood we could find was your houses.” Sam balled his fists and charged Crenshaw. Waters slapped him down to the road. “Save your energy son, you’re going to need it.”

“What do you want, Crenshaw?” Catherine spat.

“Why use your venom on me, Princess?” Crenshaw looked to the faces hoping for some recognition of the quote. He walked to his men and stood in front of them. Both towered over him. He looked around at the vehicles and the people. “Where’s Crowe?”

“Dead in the swamp,” Frank said coolly.

“How?”

“I stabbed him in the head. Drove a knife through his chin into his skull.” Frank held up his fingers, showed Crenshaw Crowe’s blood that still stained the digits, and then tossed a handful of his teeth onto the road at Crenshaw’s feet. “The rest is about a three hour march and a boat ride that way.” Frank pointed over his shoulder.

“He was my best man. A king compared to these idiots behind me. But these two have their uses and like dogs, they’re loyal. Throw them some food and shelter and they never leave my side. Crowe always had something else going on his brain. He was a born psychopath. That man loved to kill. Now you,” Crenshaw pointed to Sam. “Get Williams out of the car and clean up that mess.”

“And if I don’t?” Crenshaw nudged Waters and he fired a shot into the road at Sam’s feet. “Not even a pretty please?”

“Anyone know how Williams died? He wasn’t bitten, that’s obvious. Was it the wounds or the shot to the head?” Crenshaw looked expectedly for an answer. “The rest of you, toss your guns in the road.” The clatter of metal against pavement rang out. The dead came out at the noise. “Better hurry with that clean up.” Sam gagged from the other side of the Explorer. Footsteps rushed into the brush at the side of the road as he threw up.

“Pussy,” Waters muttered.

“Villagers have no stomach for this stuff,” Frost said.

* * * * *

Sam pulled Beverly’s remains from the window of the Explorer. He coughed and gagged through the entire ordeal. With trembling hands he gathered up what of her had hit the road and piled it in the grass on the side. While Sam cleaned, Crenshaw ordered Waters and Frost to clean out the dead in the streets. Frank clenched his fists, looking for an opening. The others looked on in silence as Crenshaw swatted mosquitoes away. He seemed bored by the entire event.

Sam went into the back of the Explorer and got a bottle of warm water to try and wash away the vomit taste in his mouth.

“Don’t waste that water,” Crenshaw yelled. “That’s worth more to me than any of you are.” Crenshaw waved his men over and they huddled down like linemen around the quarterback. Frank thought about rushing them for their guns and putting as many bullets them as he could, before they killed him. Sam walked over and offered warm water to the others. The huddle broke and Crenshaw approached the group.

“Here’s the thing.” Crenshaw spread his arms open wide, like the wings of a hawk. “I need proof that the water works.” Crenshaw stopped mid-sentence and looked to his man and laughed. “I never even thought about it until now.” Crenshaw pointed at Waters, then at the jugs on the road and laughed some more. During the outburst Frank stepped forward only to be yanked back in place by Sam. Micah stared down the length of road in each direction; they were alone, no hope or rescue in sight. The police weren’t coming to save the day or them. Crenshaw stepped on the teeth and stumbled forward.

“No one else gets that? Water? Waters? Fine. Normally I’d ask for a volunteer or just pick someone. I thought I’d have a little fun.” Crenshaw grabbed Micah from the others and threw him to the ground and dropped a revolver in his lap. “Take out five bullets and spin it.” Crenshaw looked back to his men. “What are you morons waiting for?” Waters went to the trunk of the Monte and shot the lock out; he rummaged around inside while Frost watched with indifference. Micah’s hands shook as he emptied the bullets from the cylinder. They bounced off the street. He reached for one, the tip tapping as he tried inserting it.

“This is going to take all day,” Crenshaw said throwing up his arms. Something rustled in the deep grass across the street. Waters pulled some rope out of the trunk and whistled for Sam and waved him over with the barrels of their guns. They threw the rope at him and pushed him along down the road.

“So tell me, Catherine did you know the sex of our offspring before you killed it?”

“I never cared enough to ask. I wanted that thing out of me.” She responded with venom. Micah finally got the bullet into the chamber; he closed it and handed the gun back.

“Thank you, son.”

“Don’t call me son,” Micah said and ran back to the others.

“We’re going to play a game. Catherine and you two,” Crenshaw said pointing the revolver at Frank and Sharon. Micah clung on to her hand until the distance forced him to let go. Crenshaw spun the chamber and pointed the gun at Catherine and pulled the trigger.

* * * * *

“What are we doing?” Sam trudged down the road, rope in hand.

“We?” Waters asked. “You’re going to wrangle us a zombie.” They continued down the street, until Sam spotted one with no others around. “Every place we go, there’s dozens of them and today, we can’t find one.”

“We’re lucky and we also killed a lot.” Waters pushed Sam in the shoulder; he stumbled forward and dropped the rope. The dead turned to look at him; there was one in the road ahead. Its jaw moved mechanically despite the fact it wasn’t eating. Sam reached for the rope. Frost nudged him forward with his foot.

“You two keep pushing me, you’ll have to do this yourselves.” They took a step back and readied their guns, just in case. Sam’s mind raced, trying to think of the best way to capture it. He watched the movement. There was no way a snare would work, the way it shuffled along.

“I’d kill for a dog catching pole,” Sam muttered. He tied a quick slip knot at the end of a loop and sighed. “This better work,” Sam whispered. He took a step back, started spinning the rope over his head.

“The fool is going to lasso it.” Frost laughed and slapped Waters on the arm. Sam took a deep breath and let the rope fly.

* * * * *

Click.
Crenshaw looked disappointed, when the chamber came up empty. He spun it again and pointed it at Sharon. Micah bit his lip and tried not to look. Crenshaw eased the trigger back, enjoying the moment.
Click.
Crenshaw scowled and for good measure pulled the trigger again. He spun the barrel and pointed it at Frank.
Click.

“This game was so much better in my head.” Crenshaw spun the cylinder again and pointed the revolver at Catherine. This time he peeked and smiled then shot Catherine in the shoulder.

* * * * *

Sam let the rope fly. The dead didn’t make an attempt to move. It was focused on its next meal. The rope circled its shoulders and he yanked back hard. The knot tightened and when he pulled again, the zombie toppled over face first into the pavement leaving a skin trail on the asphalt.

“Holy shit he did it,” Waters said.

“Holy shit, it worked,” Sam said. When it tried to rise, Sam looped the rope around the beast a few times and got close enough to tie it off. He dodged its snapping teeth and walked backwards slow, letting the zombie follow. Patches of skull showed through dead, sun burnt skin. One eye hung by muscles, the other solid white. Weak arms struggled against the ropes and it stumbled every time Sam gave it a tug.

* * * * *

Catherine fell backwards grasping her shoulder and Frank caught her.

“Better get some pressure on that, son,” Crenshaw said.

“Don’t call me son.” Crenshaw lowered the gun at Micah’s head. “It’s empty.”

Crenshaw dropped the revolver and took the pistol from his belt. “This one isn’t.”

Micah turned to Catherine and put his hands on her shoulder and applied pressure. “You, lady, go get some of the water.” Sharon walked over to the containers sitting in the road and retrieved a five gallon one. Micah stepped back and stared at the blood coating his hands. Catherine groaned from the pain. Sharon loosened the cap and hoisted the container and poured the water over the bullet hole. The wound fizzled and foamed. While Crenshaw watched the bullet and fragments were forced from the wound and dropped to the street. A wide smile crossed his face and he clapped.

“Wonderful stuff. I’m going to need more containers and a helicopter. Do we know how it works on aging?” Crenshaw looked to the others. Frank helped Catherine to the Jeep and sat her on the rear bumper. Down the road he made four figures headed back slow. He eyed the revolver and bullets on the ground, but not before Crenshaw saw him.

“You there, son.” Micah glared at him. “Gather up those bullets and hand them to me.”  Crenshaw shielded his eyes from the sun’s glare; he saw the others on the road and waved them on. He rubbed his hands together greedily. “Are you ready for round two my dear?” Crenshaw motioned for Catherine who got up slowly and went to him.  “We’ve seen it work on wounds, now the ultimate test.”

Sam led the dead back to the cars; Waters and Frost kept their distance. Its eye was locked on Sam waiting for the chance. The water on the side of the road was still.

“Morons, guns out. Cowboy feed it.”

Catherine shook off Frank’s grasp.

“I can do this.”

“She’s so feisty I loved that about you.”  Crenshaw said. “Tell me something, love. However did you get to be mayor of your cul-de-sac?” Crenshaw leaned back against the car and crossed his arms. He raised his hand to the others. The zombie tried to bite Sam, teeth clacked together. Sam pulled his arm away and stepped back.

“Frank didn’t want the job,” she said. Frank in response waved to Crenshaw.

“I don’t like responsibility so much,” Frank said.

“The only thing you ever loved, Richard, is yourself. You’re a coward, always were. If there was no supply of asshole thugs or bourbon, you’d be working fast food.”

“If we get out of this,” Frank grumbled clenching and unclenching his fists.

“Let me guess, you’re going to shoot me?”

“Amongst other unpleasant acts of violence.” Crenshaw lowered the gun and shot Frank in the gut. The zombie riled by the sound fought against its ropes. Micah ran to Frank and put pressure on the gun shot. Frank’s blood flowed through Micah’s fingers.

“I don’t like him.” He turned to Catherine. “Let it bite you, right now or I shoot the kid.” Crenshaw cocked the pistol. Sharon stepped forward between Crenshaw and Micah; the goons targeted her.

“No more.” Catherine rolled up her sleeve. She thought about slapping Crenshaw, or raking her nails across his eye. She closed her eyes, lips moving in silent prayer. She stretched out her pale arm; the dead’s eyes almost bulged when the meal was presented. Its discolored tongue shot out and then it chomped down on Catherine’s arm. She screamed in agony as her flesh was ripped off until there was no more air left in her. Blood spurted from ruined veins. Catherine staggered away and fell down. Micah’s eyes filled with tears; Crenshaw held Sam and Sharon at gunpoint.

“Make your choice, son. Save Catherine or save the guy.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Frank mumbled, the corners of his lips discolored with blood. “Save her.” Sam moved forward, making a grab for Crenshaw, Waters shot him in the leg. When Sharon went to catch him, Frost put a bullet in her shoulder.

“Mom!” Micah yelled. He grabbed at one of the containers, opened the mouth and poured the water on Catherine’s arm and then forced some into her mouth. Then he emptied the container on Frank’s abdomen and made him drink some. Frank choked on the water; most of it he spit out.

“Save her,” his words were slurred, half choked on the water. Micah ran over to Catherine and put her head in his lap. He sat on the pavement and rocked. Her eyes were unfocussed and when he went to wipe the sweat from her brow, she was burning with fever.

“Micah,” Catherine said. She reached up and he grasped her hand. “It’s been such a blessing watching you grow up.” Tears rolled down his cheeks, spattered on her face. Catherine forced a smile and looked at the sun. “I hate Florida, it’s so hot. Tell the others I said good bye.” Catherine’s eyes closed and Micah cradled her head and cried. He set her head down on the street and ran over to Sharon and hugged her tight, trying to be careful of her wound.