Into the Badlands (10 page)

The carrier hit the pharmacy counter just as Ed came loose from the window. It crawled up onto the counter, then fell off the other side and onto the floor below. It rose to its feet and made one final dash toward them.

Ed fell to the pavement outside as the carrier rammed its body through the window, catching itself around the waist on the broken glass. Blood appeared where a few of the remaining shards cut into the thing’s stomach, dripping through the darkened fabric of the dress.

It reached out with its good arm toward Ed, its long, yellow fingernails inches away from his face. Suddenly Zach brought the bat down on the thing’s head as hard as he could. It wasn’t enough to kill it, but he knocked it senseless. He brought the bat down, hard. The second blow made the thing nearly docile. It lay in the window, its upper body hanging out, moaning in pain and rage.

Ed took the bat from Zach. He lined the bat against the base of the thing’s neck, then brought it down with severe force. The carrier’s body went limp immediately and the moaning stopped.

“Good work,” Ed said. Zach nodded.

“Dad?” Jeremy said, tugging on his father's sleeve.

“Yeah,” Ed replied.

“There are more.”

Ed spun around to see three more carriers approaching from the street. Two of these picked up speed once they noticed Ed and the boys weren’t among the infected. So much like animals that they recognized their own kind. Ed drew the gunk, leveling it on the one in the lead. He tracked it as it ran, breathing in, letting half the breath out then gently squeezing the trigger. The shot struck the thing in the chest, knocking it down.

The second one continued running, and Ed brought it down with a single shot in the same fashion. The third carrier was too sick to be a threat. Ed left it; better to save the bullets and reduce the amount of gunfire.

“Follow me,” Ed said to the boys. They ran up the street they had originally come from, staying together, keeping each other within sight. The pharmacy building shrank behind them as they fled. They had a mile and a half to go before they reached the highway.

Suddenly two carriers attracted by the gunfire appeared on the street roughly fifty yards in front of them. They caught sight of Ed and the boys then dashed after them. One was slow and sick, but the other was fast. It began the chase with a guttural growl, increasing in volume and intensity as it built speed. It chilled Ed to hear that sound. Ed stopped running then leveled the pistol at their attacker.

Ed fired a shot, but it missed. He struggled to control his breathing, then carefully squeezed off a second shot. That shot hit the thing in the shoulder, bringing it down hard. He fired another shot at the second attacker, bringing it down with a direct hit to the chest.

The first carrier he'd shot attempted to rise. Ed placed a single bullet in the thing's head, putting it down for good. He counted five shots; his clip held sixteen shots plus one in the chamber. They were doing well so far; maybe they had a chance of getting out alive after all.

“Dad,” he heard Zach say from behind him.

He looked backward and his newly-bolstered spirits dropped. More than a dozen carriers approached from behind.

“Zach, shoot anything that gets close.”

“Okay, dad,” Zach replied.

Two more carriers charged from the street ahead of them. Ed shot them both. He counted seven shots in his head. Ed could hear Zach take two shots from behind him and then watched a single carrier drop to the ground.

There were too many surrounding them; they had to find a place to hide. Carriers were determined when prey was in sight, but they soon lost interest once they lost a trail. He needed a house that wasn’t compromised; they could hide in that and wait for the carriers to disperse. At least they could buy some time to think.

“Zach, take out as many as you can. Shoot the fast ones first.”

“Got it,” Zach replied.

Ed and his son shot as many able-bodied carriers as they could. They managed to kill several of them, but here were still many more left. There was no way to get them all. Ed knew they needed to make a run for it. “Now! Follow me!” he said to his sons.

They dashed off onto a small, perpendicular side street. Ed searched desperately for a house that was empty. It was so hard to tell from the street, especially while running from carriers. He would have to make a guess and hope for the best. Finally he spotted one that looked viable. It was a small gray house, with no broken windows and a closed door.

“Over here!” he yelled, pointing the house out to the boys. They ran up the sidewalk then onto the front porch. The top of the door was made up mostly of glass panels so he used the butt of the gun to break one out. He holstered the gun, then reached through the empty panel and unlocked the door from the inside.

Three carriers appeared at the end of the street, all still in pursuit. Ed shot them all; he wanted none left alive who could have seen where they were planning to hide.

They rushed inside the house, hoping it was empty. They had little choice either way. He closed the door behind them then locked the deadbolt. He had the boys sit with their backs against the door, facing inside. He wanted them watching the house for movement, just in case they weren’t alone. He also didn't want them to have to see what was outside.

“Don’t look out this window,” he told them. “Zach, if anything in this house moves, shoot it.” Zach nodded in quick acknowledgment. Ed hoped it wouldn't come to that; they had drawn enough attention to themselves as it was.

Ed got down on his knees and peeked through the window in the door. It was covered by a decorative, nearly translucent window treatment. He watched closely, being careful not to make any sudden movements. He hoped they had killed any of the deadwalkers who might have seen them go inside. Sometimes things just came down to luck.

He continued watching out the tiny window. As he expected, they all came running. A dozen showed, then it quickly became two dozen, then three. It wasn’t long until he stopped counting. The deadwalkers rambled about in the street, pacing back and forth. Some limped, a couple even dragged themselves along the road, their legs completely paralyzed by the virus. Ed wondered how they could possibly still be alive.

Some dashed back and forth from one side of the street to another, slamming themselves off the hoods of cars, screaming at the top of their lungs in anger and frustration. Then one of the deadwalkers broke off from the group, wandering around by itself, eventually choosing the sidewalk leading to the gray house where Ed watched anxiously through the window. Ed's heart raced and he placed his hand on his pistol. The thing approached the door, staring inquisitively. Ed tensed, his pulse rising. Suddenly a fight broke out on the street, and the miserable creature left the sidewalk in a rush to join in. Ed breathed a sigh of relief. That had been way too close.

The three of them remained this way for a half hour or so before the decrepit crowd began to disperse. After an hour only a couple carriers remained. Those two wandered off after a few more minutes and then the street was empty again, as if they'd never been there.

The thought that Ed had brought his boys into the middle of this infestation made him ill. He felt irresponsible, almost reprehensible. It had been a close call on that street, and they were lucky to make it out of that whole situation alive. Another part of him, however, felt it had been the right thing to do. And the boys had wanted it. They’d chosen to risk their lives for someone else. The decisions were becoming more difficult to make.

Although they had successfully evaded the deadwalkers, they weren’t out of harm’s way just yet. Those things were gone for the time being, but they’d be back. Ed and the boys still had some daylight left, and it was highly probable they could make it back to the farmhouse before night fell. They’d have to leave soon, though. They couldn’t waste any more time, otherwise they would have to spend the night in the house and try their hand the following day. That put the girl at even greater risk.

He decided to give it another twenty minutes and then they would make a break for it. They’d have just as good a chance then as they would the following morning. Carriers lost interest fast, and the idea of spending the night in that house didn’t sit well with him.

Ed realized he’d been watching the street for an hour. He turned around, sat down, and leaned against the door. His knees ached from kneeling for so long. He looked at the boys; they were both staring into an adjacent bedroom. It didn’t take long to figure out what they’d been staring at.

A body.

It was small and badly decomposed. It appeared to the be the body of a child, quite possibly around the same age as Zach and Jeremy. He knew why they were staring too. Despite all the bodies they saw this one had been one of their own; another child, one who didn’t make it. It resonated with them. Children could very easily understand mortality, especially when surrounded by death.

He needed to shut the door to that bedroom; they would continue to stare if he didn’t. Besides, they'd already seen enough. He told the boys to stay put then he rose to his feet. His knees screamed in protest. He slowly approached the small room then entered, gun drawn.

What he saw invaded his soul, then destroyed him from within.

Despite the decomposition of the body, Ed could tell it was definitely the body of a child. He assumed a young boy, given the footballs and baseballs on the room's wallpaper. A pistol lay on the bed near the boy's knees.

The boy had shot himself in the mouth while he sat in bed.

Ed stood in the room, transfixed and mortified by what he saw. This boy, alone with no hope, had run out of options. He’d gone to his bedroom to finish things, quite possibly to be surrounded by the things that had brought him peace and security. He was still in his pajamas even.

Ed looked away, trying to process the pitifully horrible thing he had just seen. He couldn't. Beneath the goggles he blinked away the tears from his eyes. He had to regain his composure before going back out to the boys. He had to do it quickly too, or they’d get worried if he was gone for too long.

He noticed a box of shells on the nightstand beside the bed. He holstered his pistol, then picked up the gun from the bed. The shells matched. There were maybe thirty rounds left, give or take a few. He now had a gun for Jeremy.

The gun that had taken this boy’s short life would now be used to protect another young boy’s life. This irony wasn’t in any way lost on Ed. He looked around the room and found a blanket. He placed the gun along with the shells on the nightstand, then covered the boy’s body with the blanket. He picked up both the pistol and the shells, then stopped and looked at the shape under the sheet.

I wish someone had been able to help you,
he thought to himself as he stared at the shape under the sheet. He then walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

He walked to where Jeremy and Zach sat then emptied the remaining shells from the pistol, then placed it into Jeremy’s backpack. “Don't use it until I tell you,” he told him.

“Okay, dad,” Jeremy replied.

“That was a boy in there, wasn’t it Dad?” Zach asked.

Ed looked at him. They'd seen enough to know; whatever doubt they might have had was erased by the look on his face. “Yeah, buddy, it was.”

“Thought so,” he replied.

Ed zipped up Jeremy’s backpack. He wanted to tell them he'd protect them, no matter what, but he knew he couldn't promise that. They knew it too.

“We gotta move,” he said to the boys. He explained the plan: hit the street and don't stop until the highway.

Ed unlocked the door, opened it, and stuck his head out. He looked up and down the street and saw no movement.

He took a deep breath. “Now,” he said.

They opened the door and ran without looking back. They didn’t stop until they reached the highway.

They arrived at the farmhouse well before nightfall. They walked directly up to the room where they’d left the girl. Ed had the boys wait outside the room while he tended to the girl. He removed his gloves, then held the back of his hand under her nose to check for warm breath. It was shallow, but there. He glanced at the water; she had drunk the whole glass sometime that day. He felt that was a good sign.

He refilled the water, then removed his backpack, placing it on the floor beside the bed. He rummaged through it and found the antibiotics. He removed two capsules, then placed the first one into her mouth, closing her jaw with his hands.

As he reached for the glass of water to wash the pills down the girl's eyes suddenly opened wide and she she spat the pill out. She looked frantically at Ed, still in the surgical mask and goggle, then screamed. Ed attempted to restrain her, but she struggled to push him away. Then he felt her lift his pistol from the holster.

The girl sat up, eyes wide, swaying unsteadily. Her eyes fluttered.

She pointed the pistol at Ed then spoke in a low, determined voice.

“Don’t...fucking...move.”

CHAPTER 10

“Move your ass!” Brenda yelled, giving Dave a hard shove. He ran. Tammy fired off two shots, taking down the two closest carriers, then she ran as fast as she could to catch up. They continued running, away from the carriers and back the way they came. They turned once more to see how many were following them; Brenda counted eight, but they were relatively slow.

They crashed into the dried cornstalks, Brenda in the lead and Tammy bringing up the rear. She realized she was dragging Dave by the sleeve of his coat. At least he was was complying, but he seemed to not understand the gravity of their situation.

They could hear screaming behind them, but as they made their way through the dense cornfield the screaming became noticeably quieter. The carriers were too lame to follow them with any real efficiency and before long they lost them. They continued running for a few more minutes though, just to be sure they left them far enough behind.

Eventually they slowed to a walk. Before long they emerged from the corn to find they were at a fence. Another ten yards past the fence was the highway. Brenda couldn’t help but feel open and exposed while on it, but after the run-in with the carriers back there she wasn’t feeling any safer off the road.

First, however, she needed to secure their new friend. She returned the pistol to her front pocket, then turned to Tammy, who was out of breath.

“Cover him,” she told her. Tammy pointed the rifle at Dave. “What are you gonna do?” she asked, breathing hard.

“I’m going to give us a little piece of mind,” Brenda said, between rapid breaths. She sat her backpack down on the ground, then fumbled through it. She retrieved a length of rope, measured some out, then cut it with the knife she stored in her back pocket.

“Hands behind your back, Mr. Dave,” she said. He complied without even speaking, his breathing elevated from the run. “Nothing personal,” she added as she walked behind him, binding his wrists with the rope. She wasn’t an expert in knots but she felt confident enough it would hold. She gave the rope a tug just to be sure. It seemed secure enough.

“Too tight?” she asked him. He just continued staring forward. She grabbed his shoulder and gently shook him, looking him in the eye. “Dave, is this too tight?” she repeated. He shook his head from side to side to indicate it wasn’t.

“Good.” She walked back around in front of him. “Once we get to know you better we'll talk about untying you.” He looked right through her.

She turned to Tammy. “We gotta get that blood off his face; it’s creeping me the fuck out.”

After finding a small stream Brenda washed the blood from Dave's face. If he was bothered by the cold water it didn’t show. He was still vacant, staring off at nothing in particular. He was following orders well enough though, so that kept Tammy from complaining too much about the situation Brenda had gotten them into.

After he was properly washed up the group continued walking. They didn’t speak for some time; they just tread the miles, one after the other. Dave offered no conversation, nor did he complain about the walking. He never asked for a break, for food, or for water. He just walked wherever he was directed.

They walked like this for most of the day along the highway, stopping periodically to rest. Dave took water when offered, but ate nothing. He was no more conversant during the breaks either.

An hour or so before sunset the girls decided to make a camp for the night. It was still cold, but at least the temperature had now risen above freezing. Brenda hated the cold and she hated the winter. She hoped the rise in temperature meant Spring was on its way. If not, even a short reprieve from the cold was welcomed.

The girls made their camp off the road, in a spot about fifteen feet into the woods. They decided to go ahead and build a fire, even the though the temperatures were milder than they had been the past few days. It would warm them, and as Tammy pointed out it would allow them some light to keep an eye on their new friend. Brenda could tell Tammy still didn’t trust him. She thought that was understandable.

There were plenty of dead limbs lying around, so they gathered up enough to keep the fire burning most of the night. Some dried tree bark and leaves served as tinder, catching the spark from Brenda’s flint nicely. It wasn’t long before they had a warm fire going.

They sat, silently leaning against leafless trees, watching the fire for some time. It gobbled up the wood, hissing, and crackling as it consumed the fuel. Dave remained silent, choosing to stare intently into the flickering flames rather than speak. Brenda and Tammy sat across from him, a few feet apart. They watched him closely.

Tammy finally broke the silence. “Why is he here?”

Brenda looked at Tammy, then her gaze fell on the fire. She didn't immediately answer the question.

Tammy continued, insistent on an answer. “I mean, he’s the not the only uninfected person we’ve come across. You never took any special interest in the few we ran across in the past. Hell, we avoided them. What’s so different about this guy?” She waved her hands around trying to get Dave’s attention. He continued staring into the fire. “See? He’s fucking gone to Pluto.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Brenda replied. “I think he’s still in there...somewhere”

“What make you say that?”

“I think this might be a stress reaction.”

“You mean like shock?”

“More or less, yeah.”

“How would you know?” Tammy asked.

“I’ve seen something like it before, is all.” She paused. “Well, I guess I sorta went through it myself.”

“What do you mean?” Tammy asked.

Brenda took a moment and inhaled deeply, then continued. “You remember me telling you about those douchebags I used to date, right?”

“Yeah. They sounded like real winners.”

Brenda continued. “Well, some years back, before the outbreak, there was a particular douchbag who answered to the name of Duane Cummings.”

“I don’t think I remember you ever talking about him.”

Brenda paused, then sighed. “I know. I never told anybody about Duane. It was a rough period in my life; probably the worst.” Another pause. “No, on second thought, it was definitely the worst.”

Tammy listened in silence.

Brenda continued. “I met Duane just after high school. He was older than me, and from the way he told it he could walk on fucking water. My mom and dad were drunks, so there wasn't a whole lot of time left for me. I had no friends. Duane seemed to be the only person in the world who could see me.

“Problem was Duane was crazier than a shit-house rat. Fucking paranoid jealous, really. Under all his bullshit was a scared little kid with no self-esteem. It got worse as it went on, then the shit hit the fan after I moved in with him. Eventually I had enough, and I knew I had to leave.”

She paused, watching as the yellow-orange flame slowly consumed the tree limbs they’d piled on. She instinctively looked around for carriers, saw none, then continued speaking.

“Finally one day he damn near killed me.”

“Fuck me,” Tammy said.

Brenda continued. “I don’t remember what started it. Probably something stupid. He was always so mad; mad at the fuckin’ world. I was just another thing to be mad at that day. Before I knew it, he’d bitten my tongue halfway off, fractured my eye socket, and broke three of my ribs.”

“Holy shit! That is seriously fucked up,” Tammy responded.

“Yeah. He smashed my face through a wall. Luckily I missed the wall stud by like two inches. It not, I'm not sure I'd be alive today.

“After Duane beat the shit out of me and left me for dead, I just sort of checked out. I got into my car and drove. I had blood gushing from my mouth; hell, my tongue was only partly attached still. My nose was bleeding and there was blood dripping from cuts around my eye socket. As bad as it sounds I didn’t even feel it; not right then at least.

“The cops said I drove to a McDonald’s about a mile down from the house. I walked into the lobby and just stood there asking what time it was. It freaked everybody out and they called 911.

“At first I didn’t remember any of it; Duane beating the shit out of me, driving to McDonald’s, or the first day in the hospital. It took a couple days before I got my wits back. I noticed that my tongue hurt like hell, then I noticed I was in a hospital room. After that it all started coming back.”

Brenda looked over at Dave for a few seconds, thinking. “The thing is, Tammy, I think our new friend here’s got the same thing, or something like it. Something happened to this guy, something bad, and I think he’s just...checked out.”

“You don’t think he’s faking?” Tammy asked.

“I don’t. That’s why I couldn’t leave him back there. He’s not himself. I don’t think he even knows where he is right now. He can’t make decisions. I know what it’s like to go through something like that.

“I asked myself back there, what would I want someone to do for me if the shoe was on the other foot? Then I thought, what would my grandma think if she knew I just left him there? That kicked my ass into gear. I couldn’t bear the thought of her disappointment, even fourteen years dead. I never could when she was alive, either.”

Tammy craned her neck around to look more directly at Dave. She examined him, as if she were trying to figure out what he was. “How long do you think he’ll be like this then?”

“It’s hard to say. I came out after a couple days. He might do the same, but it could be longer. Either way when he does come to his senses, I want him tied up. When he remembers whatever it was that happened to him, I don’t know how he’s gonna react. He might go nuts, he might not. Hands bound is how we want him to stay.”

Brenda stared into the crackling, orange fire for a while, watching the embers glow. The warmth felt good against the unexpected night chill. “I’ll take the first watch,” she told Tammy. “Try to get some sleep; I’ll wake you up in a couple hours.”

“You gonna be okay with him?” Tammy asked.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m taking you up on that offer then.” Tammy stood up to get her bedroll from her backpack.

“Brenda?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for taking watch.” Tammy paused. “And sorry about all that Duane shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Whatever happened to him?” Tammy asked.

“Cops picked him up after I showed up at McDonald’s. He went to jail for eighteen years. The state got him on attempted murder; he’d been bragging to his cousin about how he was going to kill me. I found that out later. I always thought blood was thicker than water, but his cousin testified against him and Duane went down.”

“Well, I hope that cocksucker starved to death in his cell,” Tammy said.

Brenda smiled. “I do too.”

* * *

“
Put your hands in the air,” the man with the gun on the left said. He was short, squat, and balding.

No one moved.

“
DO IT!” the other man yelled. He was taller than the first man with lighter hair. Both men had beards of considerable length, and both carried pistols.

“
Drop the goddamn guns,” the balding man ordered.

Dave considered their options. If he provoked these two they'd might all be killed. If they complied, they might live. That was a big maybe though. They couldn’t afford to be robbed and left with nothing; that fate was almost the same as death.

Dave raised the shotgun. He thought he would be more afraid than he actually was. He was surprisingly calm. The men tensed; he could see it.

“
No,” he said. He then addressed his wife, his eyes never leaving the two thieves. “Sandy, get behind me.” She did.

“
Listen hero, I'll blow your brains out, fuck your little girl up the ass, then blow her brains out while your friend here watches,” the second man threatened.

Dave glanced at Jim; his friend hadn't had time to pull the pistol before they were accosted. Jim shot a helpless look back. Once again, it was all up to Dave.

“
How do I even know that gun is loaded?” Dave asked the balding man.

“
You want to take your chances?” he replied.

Despite his fear Dave continued to feel calm and confident. “I'm willing to bet that if I pull both triggers at the same time you’ll both disappear.”

The light-haired thief looks worried
, Dave thought. He felt like he had these guys where he wanted them. He was sure they'd back off this standoff, throw out some four-letter words, along with some empty threats and then walk away.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

He almost didn't hear the first shot. It happened so fast. Just a small crack, and then Jim dropped like a box of rocks. He heard a second crack and then felt a warm spray cover the side of his face, dripping into his left eye. Out of his peripheral vision he watched as Sandy fell, her hands going instinctively to her neck.

Before he could process was was happening he heard a loud boom. He barely felt the considerable recoil of the shotgun as both barrels went off in his hands. The light-haired thief's chest turned red as hundreds of small buckshot tore through his skin and into his chest.