Hissers II: Death March (6 page)

That’s stupid, she thought. If he wante
d to rape you why would he have saved you? She answered herself: because you’re the better catch, idiot, he probably doesn’t want to rape the undead.

“Hey, come grab this,” he yelled from inside.

She took a step, then stopped. Knuckled a dried tear off her cheek that was itching her. “Are you gonna rape me?”

There was silence. Then his head appeared around the door frame. “
Darling, I don’t know what kind of kinky stuff you’re into, but I don’t get frisky while I’m trying to survive the Armageddon. Besides, you’re young enough to be my daughter so have some respect for
me
. What’re you like twelve? Shouldn’t even know about rape?”

“Fourteen. And I knew about rape when I was ten. It’s called the Internet.”

“Well you shouldn’t even know about any of that stuff.”

“
What? Rape and sex? I know all about sex.” Even as she said it she realized how idiotic she sounded. It was the old Amanita rearing her head, looking for attention. Stupid, she thought.

“Really. Like what?”

She hesitated. “Okay, I don’t know a whole lot. I’ve kissed a couple boys. I dunno, I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Why would it have ever mattered?”

“Because… because people never noticed me until they thought I was into sex.”

“
Okay, whoa, knock it off, I don’t want to hear this. Just take my word I’m not interested, little girl.”

“Sorry, it’s just you’re a big guy and I’m…I’m scared.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “Let’s drop it. There’re some big ass knives in here. Help me put them in some bags or something. We can make some kind of weapon with them.”

Slowly, she entered the pantry, saw him going through a wooden box filled with bread knives. “I got hit with a sword not long ago. I’m not a big fan of knives. Isn’t there a gun or something around here?”

“’Fraid not. I checked when I first got in. I was gonna bed down here for the night because my truck doors don’t lock and I hoped, you know, small mom and pop place like this, they might have a gun. But they ain’t got shit. They don’t even have leftover dough. And I’m getting hungry, darling. Hey, what’s your name?”

“Am.”

“Strange name. Sounds like a pronoun.”

“Pronouns are You, I, He, We, She…that stuff.
Am is a tense of the verb To Be. Totally not the same thing.”

“You’re a smart kid, huh?”

“Not really. Just defense for jokes I got sometimes. Anyway, it’s short for Amanita. What’s yours?”

He stood up, handed her six large bread knives. “Go put these in my pack. Actually, keep one for yourself. If nothing else we can try to take their eyes out.”

She went back to the backpack and placed the knives inside. The man came out of the pantry a second later with a mop handle and a rolling pin. He hefted them both. “Which one do you want?” he asked her.

She took the rolling pin and swung it for good measure. In her other hand she held the bread knife.
“Do I look like an angry housewife?”

“
I dunno, Do you want to?”

“No, not really.” She sat in the chair
and put her head down, started tearing up again. From the back door came a series of bangs. The walls shook as the creatures outside continued to try and beat their way in. “I hate this,” Amanita said. “I hate all of this.”

The man’s hand fell on her shoulder. He squatted next to her and looked in her eyes. “Hey, look at me. Look. Amanita. I don’t know what
you just went through out there, other than I heard the explosions and helicopters and gunfire so I know it was tense, and I’m not gonna ask about your parents because I can gather what just happened, and I sympathize with your predicament, being a kid and all, but those things are trying to get in here, and there may be bigger things behind them, and we have to get to my truck outside and get away. So I’m gonna need you to swallow whatever fear and pain you’re feeling right now and pour on some steam for running, okay? Like a train. Or a semi. You know, like a nice Peterbilt. Then we can cry later. You hearing me?”

Amanita lifted her head, looked at the back door, which was shaking from the hissers pounding on it.
“Yeah. I don’t know what a Peterbilt is, but I’ll run.”

“Good.” The man grabbed the pack, slung it over his shoulder. “Well, so long for having a place to sleep. We’ll head as far as we can and see if we can find some
other place that’s safe. After that, I dunno. I was making my way to the army base I heard about east of here. But judging by the way that copter in the sky was firing at everything, I’m thinking the base might be overrun?”

“It is, I came from there. It’s gone. Everyone’s gone.”

“Ah shit.” He chewed his lip for a second. “Well I’m not gone. And I’m gonna find us a safe place. Name’s Doug, by the way.”

Amani
ta raised her weapons and stood up. “Okay, Doug, I’m ready.”

The street out front was mostly empty. Amanita stayed close to Doug as he walked through the door. Clouds of black smoke lingered through the streets, and of to her right she could see the blackened transport truck. Instinctively she moved toward it, still looking for her parents.

“Am, no, this way. We have to run, remember.”

She tore her eyes from the transport truck, shook her head and started moving again.

As expected, the hissers heard them, came around the block and gave chase. Her heart raced and she sped up, seeing the black truck Doug was pointing at. There was a hissers standing by its driver side door. Doug used his mop handle to push it back, then rammed his knife down into its head. It crumpled to the ground.

Am rounded the front, waited for Doug to get in and unlock her door. As she flung herself inside she glanced back down the road and saw a collection of charred u
ndead ambling toward her. They’re not dead, she realized. Not everyone died in the transport truck missile attack.

Her father walked down the center line, black and missing an arm. “No,” she said, and began to walk toward him. She didn’t know why. She knew he was dead, that he would try to bite her, but she wanted to talk to him, just to make sure. How could she not make sure he wouldn’t say her name and ask for help?

“Am, get in the damn truck!” Doug was getting out now, stepping over the hisser he’d killed. ‘”Am!”

She ignored his call, moved closer to her father. Saw the hissers racing around him, coming for her. “Dad? Dad are you okay?”

Her father opened his mouth and hissed, reached out with is one good hand and spread his charred fingers as if trying to grab her.

“No,” she cried. There was no denying it now. Her parents were gone forever. “No, Dad.”

Then she was hauled off her feet, Doug’s arm around her waist. He howled as he lifted her, carried her back to the truck and threw her inside. As soon as he slammed the doors the hissers hit the vehicle with swinging fists and claws.

The tuck coughed once, twice, then the engine caught, and Doug hit the accelerator, tearing over bodies.

She couldn’t help but look out the back window as they drove off. Her father stooped in the middle of the road, his burnt face twisted in rage. He walked off into an alley with the other hissers, attracted now to something else. If it was a person should they go back? What if it was her mom? She hadn’t seen her mom in the dead bodies or walking down the road.

“Snap out of it, Am” Doug said. “I heard what you called that thing, but you know in your heart that wasn’t really your dad. I’m sorry.”

She stared out the front window and said nothing. There were no words worth saying right now.

Doug rubbed his back.
“Threw my back out picking you up, girl. That’s two you owe me.”

T
UESDAY, 5:14 PM

Abandoned cars lined the middle of the highway, doors open, windshields stained in blood, steering wheels punctuated with crimson handprints, trunks and hoods dented from people having run over them. The occasional dead body lay motionless amongst them all, hair and clothes whipping in the breeze. Olive steered the truck slowly but surely around the mess, avoiding running over corpses, and tried to stay on the road, heading west. “Jesus, it’s like driving through a war zone.”

“It’
s spreading,” Connor said. “It’s already been here. All these people…just dead.”

The
y passed an overturned military Humvee, saw nothing but blood around it.

“Been here and moved on,” Olive agreed.
“Keep an eye on the corpses on the ground. No telling if they’re gonna pop up and give chase. Have that gun ready just in case.”

W
here was the rest of military, Connor wondered. Had that Humvee been sent here or was it just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Did the bigwigs even know about the hissers making it this far? They must, he thought. They have satellites and stuff, they had to know this area was lost. Which meant the military was probably overwhelmed, maybe even out of commission. On its back like the Humvee. But then he’d already suspected that would be the case.

“
Where are we going to get gas if these things are out here?” he asked.

Olive brushed her bangs out of her face. “Hell if I know. We only got a few miles left on what’s in the truck here.
Gas light’s been on for twenty minutes now. We should be passing a town soon, though, right?.”

“What about these cars? They probably have more gas
than us. Looks like this was just people driving away from the chaos. We could swap.”

“You’re saying I should give up my truck? No way. This is my baby.”

“I’m just saying I don’t feel like walking to San Diego. Besides, look, that’s a charger right there. Those things haul ass. At least that’s what I hear.”

Just then the truck bucked, coughed, and picked up again. “Shit,” Olive said, “we don’t even have the few miles I thought we had. Sonofabitch.”

“Olive, please, I don’t want to get stuck out here in the open. There’s nothing but woods and fields and that farm house over there which is probably full of those dead things.”

With a sigh, Olive braked and put the truck in park. She turned off the engine and leaned her head against the steering wheel. “I think my mom has alzheimers, you know that? More and more I talked to her on the phone lately the more and more she was just a confused ball of mess.”

Connor didn’t know where this was coming from, didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry. We’ll get to her. Don’t worry. But it’ll be easier if we have a faster car.”

“What do I do if I get there and she’s dead
, kid? I don’t think I can go on.”

“I don’t know. I still can’t believe my mom and dad are dead, but I just know I can’t stop moving. I gotta believe now that the thing that chased me
down my road, that I ran over, wasn’t really my mom. I mean, I believe… My mom and dad died saving me, died loving me. I know that in my heart. What they became wasn’t really them. So, like, if your mom is…gone…or just forgetting things…you gotta remember she loved you before she changed.”

Olive lifted
her head, stared at Connor. “You’re pretty grown up for a kid, you know that?”

“I don’t feel grown up. I just feel…sad. Angry. Something.”

“C’mon, let’s grab that Charger. Move slow, stay low, keep your eyes open. They could be anywhere.”

Slowly, Connor opened the door to the truck and stepped out onto the highway
, the backpack Olive gave him slung over his shoulder, the flash drive now sealed in a Ziplock bag inside his pocket. It was hot out and heatwave rippled on the horizon. There was no noise except the skittering of insects in the thicket lining the road. He strained his ears for the sound of hissers but heard nothing. The Charger was a few cars up, slewed sideways across the double yellow lines. Its doors were closed and its windows were tinted. Olive came around the front of the truck, her own backpack over her shoulder and her gun in hand.  With a wave, she motioned him to follow.

Ducking low, Connor took a ste
p over small cubes of broken windshield glass. They crunched preternaturally loud in the absence of other noise. Somewhere in the woods to his right he could hear birds chirp at the sound, but they fell silent again and all he heard was the wind rushing through the tall grasses.

“
Watch out for this body.” A car ahead, Olive stepped over a headless corpse.

Connor
moved past the broken glass, stepped over the body as well, spun around to check his perimeter. There was no one coming, but he kept his gun raised nevertheless. Step, turn, look, step, turn, look. He made it a rhythm, a dance almost. A handful more dead bodies lay in their way, but none of them stirred. He was getting used to seeing the bloodshed, the disgusting biological fragility of it all. The only corpse that made him wince was a teenage girl missing half of her face. She looked a little like Nicole.

When they reached the Charger, Olive put her face to the driver’s side window and pe
ered in through the tint. Instantly the car shook and a ruined bloody face smacked against the inside of the glass. “Shit!” Olive screamed, backing up.