Life Among the Dead (Book 4): The End (34 page)

45

The second day of the plague is when Simon Brass located and fired a gun for the first time in his life, today he fires one last round—just not yet.

“Sorry, honey,” Simon sits up suddenly from where he lays beside his wife and daughter’s bodies. He straightens his pajama top. “I feel like I should be doing something,” he says as if explaining to her why he can’t get to sleep. His people are heading into possibly hostile territory, running from the countless super zombies coming up behind them. “Right through here.”

He stands, scratching his chin. He debates what has just popped into his head, an idea that may give his friends an advantage against the dead, or at least reduce the threat a bit. He can create a bubble of safety in the swarm.

“No, honey, I won’t be coming to bed just yet. I have to run out real quick, but I will be joining you. One way or another.”

The grumbling Buick Riviera makes one last commute to the old store. Simon, still in his pajamas and far from the man he’s been portraying for so long, parks alongside the barrier the demolition people had erected and dashes to a small shed that went up that same day. It’s a simple bare plywood structure well weathered and set on pallets so it can be transported easily with a fork truck. All over the dirty panels of beige particle board, painted in red, are the words: CAUTION and EXPLOSIVES, along with warnings against smoking too close to it.

He had never opened it, even long after the town was theirs and it was safe to do so. He saw it as looking at a bullet that might have killed him if it was an inch to the left. He didn’t want to see the implement of his life’s almost demise, those wretched sticks.

He grabs ahold of the padlock that seals the small shed. Keeping with the tradition learned through pop culture he has only the one bullet. If he uses his only round to open the door, he won’t have one for himself later. Another debate, he literally weighs the two objects in his hands, the lock and the old fashioned western revolver he found on the second day after the zombies arose. Rough Rider and Peace Maker taught him how to shoot it, they figured they had to after watching him unload into one zombie while he saved them.

“Fuck it,” the man says, letting the lock drop against the door. He places the barrel against it and fires, he looks away expecting a ricochet to come back at him.
Wouldn’t that be ironic
, he thinks as the lock falls to the ground. 

With the door open and not helping to maintain structural integrity, the shed wobbles slightly. Inside, Simon is surprised to find only an old tan leather bag, stiff and rough from age, sitting in the middle of the rickety building.
I guess it wouldn’t take much to level the place
, he ponders the explosives in the bag. Shifting the open bag he lets the dynamite roll a little and estimates there to be about fifteen sticks, the amount isn’t too important since it’s all he has.

On his way back to his car he is surprised to come face to face with an unexpected tourist in Rubicon. “Kenny, right?” he asks the man as he walks right by him.

“Yeah,” Kenny confirms. “Everyone just up and left you too, huh?”

“I told them to go.” He explains no further. Just heads back to his car. Upon the hood of the black Riv that clicks and pings Simon opens the bag and begins to twist the fuses together making one big bundle.

“Oh. I thought you may have been dethroned like I was,” Kenny says sadly.

“I abdicated,” Simon clarifies. “I was never really a king, more of an inventor…”

“Yup,” Kenny interrupts bringing their dialogue back to his woes. “They ousted me. Garret took over. He’s really gonna put the ‘dick’ in dictator he is.”

“If it makes you feel better, I can tell you his reign will be very short.”

“You know it kind of does…Wait. What do you mean?”

With a sigh, Simon explains. “Even if your people attack my people and happen to survive, there’s about a million zombies of a new, scarier sort on their way here as we speak. They’ll be storming through and continuing southward, devouring everything human in their path.”

“Fuck.” The information weighs heavily on Kenny’s mind. “So, what are you doing here in your jammies?”

“Armor is only necessary should I plan on living, as for what I am doing, hopefully I can buy my people some time. In the very least, I’ll take out as many of the New Breed as I can.”

“Can I have your armor?” Kenny asks sounding worried.

“It wouldn’t fit you even if I had it here with me,” Simon explains. A terrifying screech is heard in the distance, followed by more howls in response. “Besides, we’re out of time.”

“Holy shit! Is that them?”

“Yes.”

Kenny watches Simon slide behind the wheel of his Riv, placing the bag of dynamite right next to him on the bench seat. “I never wanted my group to go the way it did,” he blurts. “I wanted to be liked by my men, keep them loyal.”

“And, the women?”

“Guess I had to choose. I did negotiate them down from rampant rape to…”

“Subjugation?” Simon offers. “Slavery?”

“It seemed the lesser of the two evils. Less unseemly.” The howls are getting closer and more plentiful. He shifts his weight from foot to foot nervously. “Shit, I know it was a dysfunctional family, that’s been my life forever. I was the product of rape, a botched abortion, got left on the doorstop of a fire station, stuck in an orphanage until I turned 18. No one ever wanted me. No one loved me. You must know what that’s like.”

“Because of my size?” Simon asks, scruntching his face as if he doesn’t understand. “No. I have no idea what that’s like. I was my mother’s little underdog. She made damn sure I grew up with a ‘can do’ attitude, and standing up for myself. Then, I became a husband and father, I couldn’t risk making waves with so much at stake, so I learned to take whatever lumps life threw at me. I taught myself to keep going no matter what.”

“You’re stronger than I am, and I’m a regular sized man,” Kenny says, actually meaning it as a compliment.

“I’m also much smarter,” Simon adds. He begins to close his door that creaks slightly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have a full tank of gas, I wish to cruise around, get the attention of the dead, and blow them to shit.”

“Can I come?”

“You want to die?”

“Yeah, seems like a pretty big job for one guy,” Kenny says as if he’s doing Simon a favor. “We can both go out like heroes. There’s nothing for me in this life anymore, never was. I might as well do some good for once.”

“Hop in.”

“God, a Buick Riviera,” Kenny admires the interior of the old personal luxury sedan. “I love these.”

“I have to ask, why did you never try to join us, Kenny?” Simon inquires as he lets the car roll, he honks the horn intermittently to draw the dead their way.

“You know the school in Jasper?”

“Quite well. We use it for training. When we discovered the place everyone inside was dead.”

“That was mine once,” Kenny admits with deep sorrow. “Well, I was with them.”

The New Breed flood into the parking lot as Simon drives in a big circle. The dead chase them around in the loop as more and more join the train.

“I abandoned them in their time of need,” Kenny continues. He watches the pursuing dead in his side mirror. “I came back to see if anyone had made it. You and your guys were there. The douche that took over my group, Garret, told me how you had forced him out of your society. I fed into his hate and held a grudge myself.”

“You should go to Story Book Land,” Simon says as if such an absurd sounding thing is possible in their current situation. “That’s were my people are heading.”

“Well, let’s do it!” Kenny says, opting for anything but the fate he has just signed up for.

“The man I am at this moment can’t exist any longer. But, if you want to go I can probably find a way to ditch you, keep them on me and give you a brief head start. I hear Kelly Peel is there,” the last part is said to entice the passenger.

“Naw,” Kenny answers after a second of thought. “I think for once in my life I’d like to see something through to the end, even if it is the end of my life.”

“I wish we could have met under different circumstances. I like you.”

The lot is packed tight with the berserk dead. There is hardly any room for Simon to drive. He notices they are avoiding being run over after seeing a few end that way. Carla and Oz showed him the videos of this variety, examples of their capacity for thought. He sees first hand they have at least a grasp of the concept of self-preservation. It won’t help once the dynamite goes off.

The New Breed batter the car as Simon slowly creeps around and around, he guides his car out through the labyrinth of rubble to check the main road and then back again. The driver can see some have already given up on trying to get a piece of the bounty inside the Riv and are heading out of town. He catches a glimpse of the vast legion of them that stretches north heading into his beloved Rubicon.

Heading back through the looping passage to the lot, the dead that had followed now have to squeeze to the sides of the corridor lest they be taken under the wheels. Simon pushes in his car’s lighter and has an odd thought. This is actually the first time he has ever used the thing, probably the only original piece of equipment that hasn’t failed on him over the years. This will also be the last time her ever uses it.

The Riv comes to a rest in the center of the lot, leaving lots of room for the zombies to gather around. The lighter pops, glowing red, Simon uses it to light the fuses that stick up from the beat-up leather bag between the occupants.

“Just relax, Kenny,” Simon says. “This will be quick. We won’t feel a thing.”

The Riv is allowed to remain running, Simon figures they can die together as well. It idles, grumbling, while the dead move in closer. They avoid the front for now, focusing on the sides and back of the vehicle.

Kenny watches the dead close in as the fuses beside him hiss. The corpses strike the windows and steel panels of the car. Kenny peers over at Simon and can’t believe how serene the man looks, as if the rocking of the car caused by the dead is lulling him to sleep. He wishes he could be so tranquil, so at peace, but he isn’t able to relax. He’s afraid.

Hyperventilating, Kenny stares out at the howling zombies that blot out the light as they batter the vehicle. The glass starts to crack under the barrage of rotten limbs. He fears death but wants the pain of living to just go away. The fuse hisses and Kenny wishes it would hurry up and get there, he’d rather go in a flash than experience what will happen to him should the dead make it through the glass that fractures more and more.

The hissing fuse suddenly ceases, Kenny holds his breath for a split second, and then in an instant he never has to take another.

46

Their legs feel like rubber, their feet burn. Having followed their ears in the most likely direction the caravan could have traveled, the ladies finally make it to a most unlikely destination, Story Book Land. If not for her exhaustion, Killer B would be beaming. Their journey has taken them to the top of a series of overpasses just outside the park’s vast lot, atop the numerous elevated on and off ramps, like a gift bow of asphalt, they have a view of the park. The majestic empire’s tall walls are lit up, lights cut through the darkness to where a lone vehicle has stopped at the entrance of the parking area. From the thick black void come spine tingling shrieks. Inhuman howls.

The doors of the truck open in turn and the riders leave on foot, not pausing to shut their doors their dome light remains on as the two sprint toward the castle. Behind them the shadows boil with movement, the terrifying howls increase. Then from the darkness more figures enter the light, filling the circles of illumination, clearly dead, definitely different. There’s too many to count. The surge of bodies seems to have no end like a raging river, running after the two from the truck.

Rocky watches as the space between them and safety fills with a growing throng of dead, dead the likes of which she has never encountered, fast, certainly ravenous. They have come all this way just for their trek to end on this overpass, rotting until they are noticed. “It can’t end like this,” she says to herself.

Killer B watches the pair in the lot as they make their desperate dash towards safety, she’s enthralled, hopeful for them despite her own hopeless situation. The two dark figures in the spotlights cast long shadows behind them as they race from the pursuing dead. The gate to the park inexplicably taunts them, opening partway only to drop again. It rises once more and stays up long enough for a tall, long vehicle to speed out and circle the exhausted survivors. Music blares as if lending the scene a soundtrack.

“Is that Twisted Sister?” Rocky asks no one in particular, the distance making it hard to decipher.

The bus opens fire from along its top and middle, guns blaze down the entire length, their muzzle flash an inferno in the night as they unleash a fierce salvo of thunderous automatic fire.

The barrage of bullets holds back the throng long enough for the two runners to be loaded on. They are whisked to safety. The bus fires from the back to ensure the dead can’t follow them into the park. Further assurance is gained when folks step out from inside the place and launch rockets at the dead, the fireballs that erupt light up the carnage. Though devastating, the attack is merely a drop in the bucket against the massive swarm, there’s still so many in the writhing sea of death.

“They’re all right!” Killer B whispers a cheer, almost forgetting that they need to be silent. She turns to Rocky with a smile. “They made it!”

How can she be so happy for them when she’s where she is?
Rocky asks herself.
That’s my Killer B.

“There’s no way we’ll ever get through all that,” Killer B says, defeated, the hope she had for the strangers has used up any she may have had for herself.

Rocky can’t stand when her friend loses hope, when the light of optimism she shines on the most dark of situations becomes dashed. “Tighten your skates, KB. Put your helmet back on,” Rocky tells her, handing her the heavy bag she offered to lug for her during their trek.

“We can’t go down there!” Killer B responds in an excited whisper, though she still does as she has been told.

Rocky ignores her for the moment. She unslings the assault rifle and hands that over as well.

“Rocky,” Killer B probes. “We can’t go down there.”

“No. You can’t,” Rocky agrees, tightening here own skates with vengeance. She slips into all her pads. “Not yet anyway.”

“What is this?” Killer B asks, not liking where this is heading. “You can’t do this.”

“I do what I want, you know that,” Rocky stands to stretch out her muscles. “I’m going to run this jam like a ruffie, catch ‘em off guard, find a hole to exploit, force my way in and keep going as fast and hard as I can until I’m done.”

“Rocky, that was eloquently disgusting, but you can’t do this…”

“Just look for an opening,” Rocky says, ending the debate. Her mood has shifted, saddened to a very tender tone. “Get yourself to that castle, these bitches too, but mainly focus on yourself for once.”

Killer B rises to look Rocky in her amber eyes, she trembles at the thought of saying goodbye forever to her longtime friend. They are close enough to whisper their farewells to one another, each feeling the sad tension build in their chests.

“Rocky, I…” Killer B begins to say, unable to find the words to convey how she feels at this moment. Neither can Rocky who simply meets the blonde’s lips with hers, pulling her close by her hips. Rocky shows tenderness she has never displayed for anyone, kisses Killer B like she never has another, not a passion fueled ravishing but with depth and love.

Killer B is stunned. Rocky pulls away, letting their foreheads rest together for a second. “We would’ve been great.”

Rocky leaves her friend, pushes hard to launch herself down the ramp heading toward the park and the legion of frantic corpses. Once she achieves her maximum velocity she tucks down to reduce wind resistance and barrels down the incline. Not one to open her heart, she feels raw and vulnerable, these emotions are of no use to her now so she converts it all into anger. She lets herself think about all the time she is losing that could be spent with Killer B, the anger is magnified into pure rage.

Her current speed, combined with the power of her legs as she stands, increases the might of Rocky’s uppercut as she punches the first corpse she comes to. The zombie is off its feet. The dead have spilled out of the lot and are sprinkled throughout the roads once meant to let folks drive to and from the parking area of the theme park. Witnesses to the surprise assault on one of their own howl and chase the quick human, all are soon alerted to the presence of food. Though not enough for all of them to share, they want to try and get a piece all the same.

Rocky weaves and darts between the dead as they lunge for her. She hits them with her gloved hands, always looking ahead to see where her next move will be, if there is one to be had. Howls and Shrieks spread through the vast throng, so tightly packed they are pushing and shoving in their efforts to get closer to the morsel they can’t even see. Soon they are all moving. Slow at first, a mere jog since they can’t get ahead of the many in front of them. It looks like the start of a marathon. Spaces grow in the herd allowing longer strides, the collective speed of the mass increases.

Killer B watches the area where she had lost sight of Rocky in a state of complete shock, her friend and captain swallowed by the shadows. She loses any sense of time and fails to notice just how long it is taking the mass of running ghouls to clear the way for her and the others to head for the same gate that let in the other survivors. The dead just keep surging past in a never ending train, like a protest march of ravenous creatures. Despite that, and despite having just lost her best and only friend, she is shocked by the kiss.

The kiss Rocky gave her spoke more about her than the woman had ever shared, it allowed Killer B to see her heart and soul, and it let her know the truth. All this time, all the men were nothing to Rocky. They were as she said, just ‘disposable dildoes’ that she didn’t have to clean, just ‘random cocks’. She used the men to scratch an itch, just something to satisfy her voracious sexual appetite. What she really wanted was the person she loved.

“Me.” Killer B wishes Rocky was here to talk about it, but considering the odds against her, she knows that will never be possible again.
She sacrificed herself so I’d be safe,
the woman ponders.
She died so I could live
. Her head clears enough to focus on the task at hand.

Figuring there will be plenty of time to dwell on things later, the rest of her life, she needs to get her and the others to the gate lest Rocky’s gesture be in vain. The procession of the dead continues but is thinning out, the crowd isn’t so crowded any longer. As soon as they are out of sight Killer B will be able to move the ladies.

Instructing them to stay together, the other wives of the raider camp cluster with what meager belongings they’ve carried all this way. Killer B has her bag on her back and the assault rifle in her hands. She tells the women to head down the off-ramp slowly and uses their bodies to help her fight gravity’s pull, keeping a hand on their shoulders as she rolls down with them. Near the bottom Killer B breaks off from the women to roll ahead on her skates, she looks in both directions for signs of danger but sees none though she can hear the howls of the dead off in the distance.

They are all tired from the long walk but are motivated to start running to the gate. All they have is hope fueling their legs, hope that somebody inside will let them in.