Only The Dead Don't Die (14 page)

So sad,
Scarlett thought. The once majestic oak stood stripped of its valor while she relieved herself on the other side of the car. And although the clouds had stopped raining, it appeared as if the tree rained as water droplets continued to drip onto the car. After casually letting out a big yawn, Scarlett noticed that towards the interstate, beyond the perimeter of the oak’s protecting branches, the earth seemed to quiver with fluidity, like an ocean. How bizarre she thought, rubbing her tired eyes in an attempt to wake up.

Scarlett walked to the edge of the saturated oak-leafed covered ground, feeling like a character in an enchanted fairytale the way the leaves seemed to have fallen to form a perfect circle, like a magical fairy-ring, she mused. The ground appeared to be steaming as a mystical mist drifted from the rain-soaked earth. But as she walked to the edge of the protective oak’s perimeter, the quivering ground beyond turned into a ghastly sea of gurgling ghouls.

Was she hallucinating or was this a nightmare? Suddenly her senses felt overwhelmed: her gut wrenched, her spine tingled, her heart froze, and the goosebumps prickled like needles—like they were about to burst. And that putrid smell . . . That’s when she knew this was not a dream.

There, in front of her, a few feet away, covered in a layer of soggy leaves, were dozens of
them
: Creepers, slithering around in the mud. The vision was surreal, a spine-chilling Thomas Kinkade painting of Hades. The creepers had reverted to their dawn sleep-like state during the rain storm and seemed to be confused by the rain; however, now they were waking up, all at once. This very instant!

Scarlett ran to the car and quickly brushed the leaves off the windshield. The Mini Cooper did not let her down; the engine started right up. She slammed on the gas, but the tires seemed to have a difficult time catching a grip on the slippery-mushy leaves, and she slid more than drove towards the interstate all the while attempting to avoid the groggy creepers sloshing about in the muddy soil, trying to find their balance.

Scarlett couldn’t control the car. It constantly veered to the left. “Damn!” She slammed right into a pack. The popping sound made her woozy as she squinted through her eyelashes only long enough to force the car towards the freeway. Once she finally reached the asphalt of the interstate, she found that she couldn’t drive any faster or control the car any better. Apparently, the car had two, maybe three flat tires. The lopsided car veered to the left relentlessly, forcing her to use all her strength to keep the car on the pavement.

Better than walking—I suppose? How long can I drive on three flat tires?
The grinding, almost screeching sound of the rims edging into the pavement tore at her eardrums. The creepers were right behind her, and there were even a few beside the car, gaping at her through the window and not where
they
were going. To make matters worse, the windshield was covered with huge blobs of water droplets as the swirling clouds threaten to unleash another torrent of rain: ready or not.

Scarlett frantically scouted the area ahead for a way out. Then the clouds suddenly let go again, sandblasting the car. The car faltered and drifted on its own towards the left. She had no control. She stared in utter amazement as the left front tire, wheel and all, rolled up ahead of her, causing the car to skid into the meridian’s metal railing, inadvertently running down the three creepers that had been keeping the pace beside her. “Great, three down only a gazillion left,” she shouted hysterically as adrenaline and panic pumped through her veins.

Upon crashing into the meridian railing, an avalanche of drenched leaves slid from the roof to the windshield like snow melting on a warming roof. “What!” She could not see a thing. Her heart seemed to freeze; she pounded her chest gently until the beat returned to normal.
Now what?

She was out of options. In a matter of moments, the approaching pack of creepers would have her surrounded. She stepped out into the unforgiving rain and irrationally hoped the rain would cause the creepers to revert back to their sleep-state
?
Fat chance, once
they
spotted her,
they
started doing the herky-jerk towards her. Scarlett stood in utter horror as the huge mass of creepers convulsed and twitched and moaned and drooled. Suddenly she got this horrid vision that they wanted to rip out her throat and devour her bite after bite. She could sense it as if she could see into their minds and their thoughts and feel their pains of starvation. An uncontrollable shudder swept over her.

Scarlett jumped over the meridian railing, knowing that would buy her a precious minute since creepers seemed to have a difficult time maneuvering over objects according to her brief study. She ran westbound on the opposite side of the interstate as the rain and wind whipped her hair against her face, stinging her eyes. She needed to find a place to hide. There were plenty of vehicles to take refuge in, but they were jammed packed amongst all the other vehicles. No, she would be trapped; she needed to find a working vehicle.

She could vaguely make out a dark shape of what appeared to be a vehicle a few yards ahead. She focused on the vehicle, determined not to freeze-up out of sheer fear. As she got closer, she was relieved to see that it was an SUV with its doors open: inviting.

She tried sprinting faster as the wind and rain pushed back at her, causing the sensation of running in slow motion.
Oh please, oh please let the keys be inside!
She gained a safe distance from the huge pack, realizing she could run much faster than the Mini Cooper could go.

“Yes!” She slid behind the wheel of the SUV, immediately feeling a respite from the harsh, hateful rain. Once in the SUV, she was ever so grateful to find the keys in the ignition.

It didn’t start. “Damn, Damn, Damn!”
Of course, you dimwit, the doors are open. The interior lights had been on until the battery died.
She tried turning the key again just because she didn’t know what else to do. The battery was dead as a doornail.
Well, I’ll just have to outrun them.

Scarlett ran, no longer fighting the rain and the wind. Now it was a battle for survival. A highway overpass towards the west appeared to materialize and then vanish in the unrelenting surges of rain.
If I can make it to that overpass . . . Heck if I make it that far, I’ll lose them all
. She hoped. Well, it was a plan. And even if it was a stupid plan, it gave her courage. A bit uneasy about her decision, she glanced back again at the approaching shadowy parade of drenched walking corpses. She ran. She ran like hell and did not stop . . .

“Justin?” Dean stood in the middle of the hotel lobby surprised to find the room quiet and empty for once. He could always count on finding Justin and Ella giggling and exchanging quick, shy glances at one another, that is when they weren’t clicking about with those black-plastic contraptions (game controllers) like they were hypnotized by the over-sized television screen.

Truth be known, Dean hadn’t meant to approve their foolhardy request to turn the lobby into an entertainment room, complete with a television, DVD player, Xbox, and PlayStation. But he hadn’t been able to say no to Ella, the way her eyes had lit up when Justin went on and on about all the pros to having a big-kid’s playroom. Dean felt it was a complete waste of time and even more problematic; he’d have to re-evaluate the rate they went through the fuel. As it was, he already had to engage the third generator, and they were going through much more fuel than he had anticipated.

Dean turned down the lobby’s hallway towards the hotel’s banquet rooms that now served as storage rooms. “Justin, where the heck are you, son?”

LuLu nearly collided into him as he passed the dining room entrance, sliding in front of him in her shoeless-stocking feet. “Why don’t you try the parking lot?” LuLu said eagerly.

Dean grunted in recognition and continued to the larger storage room, “He’s probably trying to sneak another case of those orange-turd chips. That boy’s got an addiction to those things.”

“You mean Cheetos,” LuLu reminded him.

“That crap will rot-out his insides . . . turn him orange,” Dean wanted to rant but figured LuLu didn’t give a rat’s ass what the boy ate.

Dean cracked opened the door to the big supply room almost hoping to catch Justin in the act when LuLu interrupted. “Uh,” she paused, “No, he’s not in there. Try the kitchen,” she offered too quickly, raising suspicion.

Something’s up. Since when does LuLu offer to help
? Dean closed the door and headed towards the smaller supply room, the room he had originally designated as the weapons room. Only they hadn’t found any extra weapons other than the ones they each used personally or kept in their vehicles.

He reached for the door, and LuLu scurried to him a moment too late. “What in tarnation!” Dean bellowed. The room was a chaotic mess of tables. And displayed on each of the tables was a mix-match of—of all things: cell phones? The room had been completely transformed into what reminded him of one of those computer stores in the mall. Dean caught a movement from behind the myriad of phones. “Justin, might as well come out with it. You can’t hide in here forever.”

Justin scrambled out from under the table. Had the kid finally cracked?
Could it be Mad Cow Disease or was it all those Cheetos?
Come to think of it, the boy’s face had an orange-ish tinge.

“Fess up boy, what in tarnation’s going on here?” For once the usually over-animated kid stood motionless, speechless. Dean felt his own jaw pulsating, waiting for Justin’s explanation.

Justin just stood there.

“Out with it—”

“Ye-ah, trust me, there’s a really, really super-good reason for all of this . .  .” Justin faltered.

“Are all of these phones plugged in? When I say plugged in—I mean, are they using our fast depleting supply of precious fuel?” Dean felt his face getting hotter and hotter.

“N-not so much. N-not exactly,” Justin stuttered.

“Dad-blast-it, it’s no wonder we’ve been going through all that fuel. Son, you’ve got five minutes to get rid of this heap of junk, or I’m gonna yank ‘em all out and toss ‘em to the zombies, including you.”

“No! You Listen—” Justin shouted and then winced.

“Son, I’m warning you—”

“Hear him out,” LuLu interrupted.

“OK, I get—that you
don’t
get it,” Justin said emphatically. “See all these phones, nine hundred and ninety-eight phones,” Justin looked about as if he was actually proud of it. “So, I’m in the process of charging each of these phones, if I have the right type of charger.”

“Because?” Dean interrupted. He had about lost his patience with the kid, first the entertainment room and now this.
Kids these days . . .

“OK, so let’s say each phone, at the very minimum, has twenty to thirty contact phone numbers stored, and I—
we
have like a thousand freakin’ phones here. Think about it, think about how many people we can call,” the words came out of Justin’s mouth so fast Dean could hardly register what the kid had said.

Looks like the kid’s finally lost it,
Dean worried. Suddenly he felt bad about riding the kid’s ass. Hell, maybe he had been too hard on Justin.

“Don’t you think there are other survivors out there?” Justin asked.

“Of course.” Dean shook his head. He’d heard enough of Justin’s bullcrap.

“OK, so, someone else is bound to have a cell phone—a charged cell phone, driving around looking for people, people like us. So, I have this uber-cool idea. I can call each number and leave a brief message to call me on my personal cell phone,” Justin said, holding up a purple phone. “Eventually, I’m certain to get through to someone—somewhere.” Justin let out a gush of air as if he’d been afraid to breathe and finally gave in.

“Are you trying to tell me that your cell phone still works?” Dean asked.

Justin nodded yes.

“How in tarnation?”

“I don’t know, but I guess if no one actually shut down the satellites, some of the cellular service providers could still work—cause some of the phones here still
actually
work,” Justin said defiantly.

“That’s it? That’s what this mess is all about?” It was more of a statement than a question. Dean shook his head, “That’s not just insane—that’s absolutely brilliant!”

“And did it work?” Dean asked expectantly.

“Uh, not exactly—having some technical difficulties. I was creating a super-cool phone calling program to have the computers,” Justin pointed to a table of laptop computers. “See, the plan is to input all the phone numbers and have the computer program do the calling and leave a prerecorded message.”

“You can do that?” Dean said amazed.

“Theoretically—yes, but . . .”

Dean did not like the sound of that “but.”

“Actually, I’m having some compatibility issues, and it will take me a while to write the program, and who knows when the cell towers and satellites will stop transmitting. By then we could lose the window of opportunity,” Justin said, eyes downcast as if he was disappointed in himself.

“So what’s wrong with calling each number the
old-fashioned
way,” Dean exaggerated. “Nothing wrong with that. Put a little elbow grease into it son,” Dean continued, amazed at himself for going along with such a harebrained scheme.

“Seriously, dude, you know how freakin’ long that’ll take?” Justin’s voice sounded despondent.

“I’ll be glad to chip-in after my daily housekeeping duties,” LuLu chimed in.

“All righty then, chop chop,” Dean announced, clapping his hands together. Dean started to leave, pausing in the doorway, “One more thing son, why in tarnation didn’t you tell me about this sooner?” Dean asked innocently enough, his feelings sore from being kept out of the loop.

At that moment, both LuLu and Justin exchanged sarcastic glances “Oh, ye-ah, right—like that would have worked,” Justin quipped, and the three of them burst out laughing.

“Absolutely amazeballs!” Dean mimicked. Amazeballs seemed to be Justin’s favorite new word, and Dean had recently banned it, in jest, of course.

Dean left the room and paused outside the doorway, rubbing his chin in wonderment long enough to overhear Justin say, “Wow, Dean’s hella-cool for an old guy.”

Dean smiled.
Don’t suppose anyone’s ever called me “hella-cool” before.