Only The Dead Don't Die (39 page)

He lost sight of the Z. Justin stepped out of the rising sun’s blinding glare and rubbed his watering eyes, trying to focus. Finally, Justin was barely able to open his irritated eyes a mere squint.
It
stood before Justin: a Super-Zombie. Justin felt his gut wrench in pure solidified fear.
That’s not a normal zombie!
It wasn’t all skinny and emaciated and gooey and bloody . . .
That thing’s huge—they never get that big!

“Ye-ah, uh, Ella, uh,” Justin rambled.

The super-zombie was only a few feet away. Justin so wished he had the crowbar right about now. Justin stood there, planted his feet and practiced swinging, determined to hit a homerun on the very first swing—cause he really didn’t think he’d have the chance for a second swing. “Oh ye-ah? Eat this you piece of shit!”

The super-zombie paused, cocked his head sideways, then its swirling dead-black eyes began searching the area, ignoring Justin. For some reason Ella popped-up from the carts and let out a terrifying scream. The thing looked at Justin and then back to Ella as if contemplating the situation. It threw its head back, gurgled a hideous guttural moan and looked Justin dead-straight in the eyes.

Justin stood there, feet planted in a firm stance, ready to swing away at it. “Ella, I got this,” Justin promised, but he really wasn’t so sure.

The thing lunged onto Justin with incredible speed and force, knocking him down to the pavement before he could even get one swing in. They both rolled around on the pavement in an endless struggle. Justin had to use all of his strength to keep its chomping teeth away from his neck. It was definitely zeroing in for the kill-bite. Justin was astonished by its super-strength. It wasn’t a lifeless mass of mush: this one was strong and determined: Relentless. All he could hear were the terrifying chomping sounds of its teeth. Chomp . . . Chomp . . . After several near misses, Justin’s strength waned quickly.

The Super-Z had Justin pinned against the pavement. Justin felt its breath singe his neck. Then it sat on Justin and glared down at him. It seemed to almost smile like it was enjoying the moment or something. “Run Ella,” Justin managed a breathless scream. Of all Justin’s expansive Z-experience, he’d never had such an encounter as its dead-black eyes bore into his soul. It actually let out a chuckle.
I know that laugh . . .

Justin’s heart sank, when he felt Paxton’s deadly breath on his neck. All Justin could think as he screamed out in his mind:
I love you, Ella . . .

Its
weight bore down on Justin. Justin thrust his head to the side, avoiding the kill-bite. For a moment, they were face to face.
Its
hot foul breath misted his face. It snarled and snickered and groaned. And it lunged with deadly teeth . . . lunged at his neck.

A horrific-high-pitched scream pierced his ears while the Super-Z thrashed about on top of him with a sort of odd, surprised expression on its face. Justin finally realized that Ella was stabbing at it with a knife. She was straddling
its
back with her thighs. Stabbing at it—madly. It let out a painful-like wailing moan and knocked her aside onto the pavement, giving Justin the break he needed to get to his knees. But it was already there, and it kicked him in the ribs: relentlessly.

Justin curled into a ball to avoid the painful kicks. Finally, Justin remembered the gun in his coat pocket and fumbled with the butt of the gun. It kicked the gun out of his hands, as if, as if it knew what a gun was. And the Super-Z continued to beat Justin. It seemed like it would rather
beat
him than
eat
him. That’s when Justin knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that the Super-Z was—had been Paxton.

Justin curled-up smaller and smaller as each kick took him further away from consciousness and further away from his Ella. He found himself mumbling, “Run Ella, Run Ella.” Finally, when Justin thought it was over, when the world went swimming around him like he was drowning in a dream-like dimension, a shattering sound jolted him.

***

Ella grabbed the gun. She stood there and fired it point-blank in the back of the demon’s freshly shaved head. After the fourth round, it slowly turned its head around and stared at her. Its glare so intense, it felt like it was burning her from the inside out. It reached out and grabbed her by the neck, squeezing until she couldn’t breathe. She fired the gun until it clicked empty. It finally froze as if someone had hit the “pause button,” then collapsed and landed with a thud onto the pavement.

“Oh My G-O-D—” Ella whispered. Justin whimpered about on the ground. “Justin, you OK?” It was the most stupid thing
ever
to say.
Of course, he’s not OK.
She knelt beside him, gently stroking his head. “Justin, wake up!”

Crackling crunching sounds came from behind her. She ignored it, still trying to get Justin to his feet. “Justin?” The crunching sounds clinked closer. Finally, she turned to see a huge horde jumbling out of the Best Buy—coming for them!

“Uh, Justin? Justin, we gotta go!” she urged, refusing the temptation to freeze-up. She gently shook Justin while staring at the horde lurching towards them.

Justin wailed, “You go—I can’t walk.”

“I’m not leaving you . . .”

She grabbed a shopping cart. Then she desperately began pulling and lifting and tugging on Justin until she got him on his knees. “In the cart!”

He muttered something under his breath, “C’mon,” Ella continued tugging at him. She turned his head towards the demons, “They’re coming!”

Justin tumbled head-first into the cart. She gasped at the amount of blood on his body. Had he been bitten? He seemed halfway-coherent. She didn’t want to think about the possibility that he might have been bitten. Ella tossed the bat and the gun into the cart and took off running as fast as she could like some fanatical contestant (like that show her mama used to watch) where you had one minute to load the cart with as many groceries as you could. She ran passed the Cheese Cake Factory and entered the mall’s parking lot, passing Barnes & Noble. Out of breath, she stopped for a moment in front of Macy’s smashed-in windows.

Another horde approached the main entrance. She bolted again and ran past the Starbucks, so wishing for a Pumpkin Spice latte, then realized that was a ridiculous thought. Out of breath again, she stopped in front of the Sears. She panicked. That was the end of the mall, and she didn’t know where to go. It was one humongous parking lot with a whole lot of nothing—just a lot of empty space. She ruled out the three abandoned vehicles: last resort only, she thought, remembering those days she had been trapped in the van.

Ella yanked the cart around and started running down the far side of the Sears, towards the back of the mall. She stopped. The cart continued to roll a few feet in front of her. The entire back lot was raging with demons—like they had all texted each other and had planned a demonic flash-mob dance at the mall.

“OMG, Justin?” He would know what do I do, but it looked like he had passed out. She grabbed her rosary beads and prayed and prayed and prayed, harder than ever before. She prayed even harder than the day she had lost her parents and little brother to the demons.

She felt a wave of inspiration engulf her, giving her the nerve to scout the area. Only one direction appeared to be demon-less. And so, she pulled the cart around and continued running to the edge of the parking lot, but the cart clamored and rattled, and she didn’t know how much longer it would last before a wheel went flying off. She ran and ran. The rattling cart seemed to be attracting more demons than they were losing.

OMG,
what am I supposed to do?
She felt the lump in her throat tighten as she desperately fought back the urge to cry, realizing if she even took one minute to cry, it would be too late. Then she noticed a sign. A hotel sign: SACRAMENTO INN. And, she saw the small entrance leading to the hotel.
A hotel, right there? Really?

She pushed, more like shoved and pointed the cart towards the narrow roadway.
Can I get to the hotel from here?
The area here was more secluded, and she was now out of view from the hordes that were tracking them, but not for long. If only she could avoid alerting other zombies. She slowed down, reducing the clamoring of the cart. Finally, she made it to the hotel and with another burst of energy pushed and shoved the cart onto the hotel’s walkway and started trying the doors to the rooms. She rubbed her rosary beads and prayed she’d find an unlocked door.

OMG!
The knob turned; she slowly opened the door and peeked in the room, smelling a rush of stale air. The curtains were drawn. The empty room showed no signs of life or death. She awkwardly maneuvered the cart over the metal threshold, losing a wheel in the struggle.

Justin made a sort of pathetic whimpering sound. To her relief, he lifted his head and mumbled, “Where the heck are we?” Then he slumped back down in the cart.

Once inside the room, she quickly latched the inside deadbolt and leaned against the door heavily.
What if they saw us come in here?
She panicked. If so, they’d be trapped inside this room
forever
.

“Justin, we made it,” she whispered still worried about how safe they actually were and for how long. Ella reasoned that they should stay here until Justin figured out what to do next. Until then, she really had no clue what to do.

Examining the room, she noticed the usual hotel furnishings. The room had two queen size beds and a flat screen TV on the dresser and a coffee table and a chair. Justin let out a screech, startling her. He thrashed about in the cart. He seemed to be mumbling something about Paxton.

She rushed over to him. “Justin, wake up.” His eyes rolled to the back of his head. “C’mon, help me get you to the bed,” she said more calmly than she felt.

“See,” she encouraged, pulling back the bedspread and fluffing up a pillow, “this is way more comfortable.” She turned to give him a big smile, then saw all the blood on his neck. He had a wound. She screamed unable to keep the terror out of her voice. “Talk to me—”
Please say something
, she panicked.

Justin finally acknowledged her, probably because he was tired of her hysterical whining. He climbed over the shopping cart with trembling knees and collapsed onto the bed. She struggled to take off his pack and the bloodied jacket, only to find more blood. Instinctively, she ran over and tore off the blankets of the other bed, wanting the sheet. She could use the sheet to wrap his wounds she decided. Justin tossed on the bed in a delirious, almost lifeless state while she cleaned his wounds with the antibiotic treatment from the first aid kit in his pack.

“Go,” he moaned, “not safe,” he blubbered as she wiped the blood from the left side of his neck down to his shoulder.

Had he been bitten? And she tried to remember that rule, the worst one
EVER
. It went something like “Been bit, tough shit, time to get.” And based on the few words he uttered, she thought he was trying to warn her to get out of here before he turned into—one of
them
.
Nooooo!

“Shhh, it’s OK. Everything’s gonna be OK,” Ella whispered. She sat on the edge of the bed next to him and was terror-stricken to watch his nearly lifeless body curl into the fetal position. Her heart poured out to him, and she curled next to him and spooned him, hoping her body heat would warm his shivering body. She found herself randomly singing lullabies, like the ones her little brother had so loved in an attempt to comfort him as well as herself.

Ella felt such regret, such deep remorse, for not spending more time with him back in Vacaville. She had consistently ignored and refused his advances every time he wanted to make-out, thinking she shouldn’t have such sexual desires at her age. Especially during this ungodly time; after all, she was in mourning and barely sixteen.

While Ella spooned him in an attempt to comfort him, his breathing gradually slowed. She realized that her feelings for him were far beyond sexual. She truly did love him and decided at that very moment that she wanted to be with him—FOREVER.
Even if, well, even if he does turn into a zombie—we can be zombies together.
She knew how cuh-ray-zee and childish it sounded, but she couldn’t change the way she felt at that very moment. How could she go living without him?

She promised herself that if he came through this OK, she’d tell him how much love she felt in her heart for him: true love. He was her twin flame, way better than a soulmate according to all those silly romance stories she used to read. Her mama had always told her true love was a rare thing to find. And now, she had found it and lost it—all in one day.

“There it is,” Dean said, pointing to the Pep Boys sign. “Knew it was around here.” He vaguely remembered giving Kyle a ride here several years ago. At the time, it had been the only place in the area that happened to have the carburetor his son needed for his Camaro.

“See it,” Luther confirmed, quickly turning the recently acquired Jeep Cherokee into the parking lot. “Hope they aren’t sold out,” Luther joked.

“Reckon they ought to a few car batteries left,” Dean offered, worried the store had been completely looted.

Dean and Luther had driven around the Sacramento area the past several days searching for signs of Scarlett, Justin, Ella, LuLu, and the Stockton Boys. Dean could sense Luther’s impatience growing: Luther was ready for Reno. And Dean felt bad for taking unfair advantage of Luther’s good nature.

“We have to take care of that bunch first,” Luther nodded towards the west side of the building. “You ready for this?” Luther asked, stepping out of the car with the pipe threader, his melee weapon of choice.

“You betcha,” Dean answered automatically. He was sure sick and tired of smashing skulls; it was getting to be a monotonous pastime. Dean grabbed the crowbar, and they snuck up behind the five dead-heads, managing to knock off two before the other three lunged at them. Standing in their back to back formation, Dean and Luther quickly disposed of them as well. Dean tried to ignore the intense pain in his chest and bent over to rest his hands on his knees.

“You don’t look so good,” Luther’s tone sounded worried, his eyes darting around the parking lot. “Looks clear, you hang in the car, I’ll see if they got any batteries.”

“I’m good, just need a quick breather,” Dean lied. His chest felt like it was about to implode. Then the pain vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

“It’s unlocked,” Luther motioned to Dean.

They carefully checked out the store and made their way to the shelves loaded with car batteries.

“That’s whut I’m talkin’ bout!” Luther did a little NFL football jig. “How many you want?”

“How many they got?” Dean asked, catching up to Luther. “Might as well take what we can,” Dean said

“Gotta get me some of these,” Luther snatched several packages of jumper cables. Luther pointed to the mechanic’s bay. “Let’s check out the tools,” Luther said with a tone of excitement.

“Nice,” Luther said; his hands caressed a toolbox labeled: Snap-on tools. “Always wanted a set of these,” Luther grinned.

“Take it you’re a motorhead?” Dean asked.

“Used to be, before cars got so damned high tech. Now you got to have a Ph.D. to work on a car.”

“Know what you mean, I used to restore Mustangs back in the eighties to make money on the side.” Dean reminisced briefly, remembering how sweet that candy-apple, red, 66 Mustang had purred. Instead of selling it, he had convinced Mary to give it to Kyle for his eighteenth birthday. Dean never would forget that day; the expression on their son’s face had been priceless.

Dean made up his mind right then and there, decided it was time to go home. Who knows, it was possible that Kyle had managed to make it back from Afghanistan, where he had been stationed when the Super-Summer flu broke out.
Hell, Kyle might even be waiting for me on the front porch.
At least that’s what Dean liked to think. If he could have one last wish, it would be to see his son again, to give him a hug and tell him how proud he was of him.

After Mary had died, he and his son had had a falling out. Dean had warned Kyle that he was making a grave mistake joinin’ up with the Army. Told him, he was a coward for running away, instead of staying and helping Dean cope . . . picking up the pieces and all that bullcrap. Now Dean realized that
he
had been the selfish one. First, Mary had left him—then his son.

It wasn’t that Dean thought serving his country was the wrong thing to do, not at all. It was the plain simple and selfish fact that Dean didn’t want to be all alone, left with only memories. Their relationship had been tense ever since that day Kyle had shown up with his Army Basic Training Orders. Regrets: how deep that blade cuts into an old man’s soul.
If I had it all to do over again . . .

Luther manhandled the Snap-on tool box, “Couldn’t resist. They be calling out my name, ‘Luther, please take me!’ ” Luther grinned.

Dean almost grinned back. “You ready?” Dean asked.

“Time to jet,” Luther agreed.

They were almost to the Jeep, “Holy Mother of God!” Dean shrieked. “I swear they can sense you a mile away.” Dean watched in horror as two hordes merged into one massive mob at the Fulton Avenue and Arden Way intersection. “Luther, they always seem to know when you’re in town,” Dean shook his head in disbelief.

“Yup, all three hundred pounds of this here U.S.D.A.  certified organic, Black Angus, good ol’ Luther meat. They just be achin’ to get a bite of me, don’t ya know,” Luther boasted as they both hopped into the Jeep. “Where to?” Luther asked.

“I believe if we keep heading west on Arden Way it will take us to the freeway. Need to find me a decent vehicle, once we get to the highway. Sorry my friend, made up my mind to go back home. That is, if you think you can manage it to Reno on your own?” Dean said, afraid to disappoint Luther. But a deeper regret haunted him; he finally accepted the fact that he had failed in his attempts to protect Ella, Justin, Scarlett, and LuLu.

“Yup, I’ve made it this far. I’ve known for some time you were ready to go home—see it in your eyes,” Luther stated. “Can’t say that I blame you one little iota. I’d certainly be at home, with my family if my home wasn’t in the ‘No-Zone.’ Nah, don’t ya worry none about me. Ol’ Luther here can outsmart these rank-smellin’ nimrods. I’m well aware of the fact that you only came this far in the hopes you might meet up with your people. Understandable my man,” Luther said without argument.

Dean felt a tremendous sense of relief as if he had been given a new chance at finding peace, the peace of mind that he could die with dignity in the sanctuary of his own home.
Hell,
everyone’s gotta go sometime.

They cruised down Arden Way slowly to avoid alerting any other massing hordes. As they approached the Arden and Howe intersection, Dean noticed a familiar site: 360-degree skid marks of burnt rubber in the middle of the intersection along with an intense odor that he associated with a massive slaughter of dead-heads. It reminded him of the parking lots in Vacaville. It was definitely the Stockton Boys’ calling card, Z-smashing raids as Justin had so succinctly put it.

“Gosh Almighty, remind me to get some nose plugs—will ya?” What could a done that?” Luther asked, carefully avoiding the gunk of gelatin like substance congealing to the payment of the intersection.

“Slow down, if you don’t mind. Let’s take a look-see and check out this area. The big mall is just the down the street a ways,” Dean said, carefully surveying the area.

They followed the skid marks and the trails of squashed dead-heads to the Best Buy. “Fresh kills, not more than a day old. What do you think Luther?” Dean pondered.

“Yup, definitely fresh kills.” Luther nodded in agreement.

“Someone was here,” Dean mumbled, somewhat perplexed. They drove around the parking lot and then continued through the mall’s front parking lot.

“Don’t see anyone,” Luther said, eyeballing the place.

“Someone’s still here. I feel it in these old achin’ bones of mine,” Dean hadn’t realized he had said that out loud until he caught Luther’s quizzical glance.

“I know, I know, sounds crazy, but someone’s here. Probably hiding,” Dean said, knowing that Luther must think him to be an old fool.

“That way! There’s a hotel at the end of the parking lot—see the sign?” Dean shouted.

“Settle down, don’t go gettin’ all excited on me now,” Luther said uneasily.

They drove into the adjacent lot leading to the Sacramento Inn.

“Gosh Almighty!” Luther bellowed.

That was the biggest damn horde Dean had ever seen. “Remind you of something?” Dean asked absentmindedly, rubbing his chin. “Last time I saw a horde swarming a building like that, they were after
you
.”

“Yup, don’t remind me. It looks like someone’s in a shitload of trouble. Those things look ravenous,” Luther looked aghast.

“They haven’t spotted us yet,” Dean said, rolling up the window, the stench unbearable.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Luther asked.

Dean saw the look in Luther’s eyes. “Think so, we need a distraction. What’s the fuel status?” Dean asked.

“Enough . . .” Luther confirmed and started banging on the horn.

Lost in their own bedlam of groans and moans it took a while for the motley crew of monsters to squirm around as Luther continued to bang on the horn. One by one the deadheads began popping off one another like an old dog with the bad case of the fleas; then,
they
began lusting their ways towards the Jeep in a hypnotic-crazed state.

“How’s about we slowly lure them back to the far end of the mall. Then, we can double-time it back here,” Dean said, afraid to take his eyes off the approaching mob.

“You got it!” Luther waited, baiting the horde dangerously close, and
one
actually lurched onto the passenger’s side door.

Luther swerved the Jeep until it lost its grip, and it rolled down the street like a ghoulish bowling ball, knocking down several of the dead-heads in its path before it finally uncurled and found its feet again.

“You see that?” Dean uttered in shock.

“Now that’s what I call an overachiever,” Luther hooted.

“They’re definitely getting stronger and smarter. Or just bolder?” Dean jabbered.

“Ain’t that the truth—” Luther agreed and laughed it off.

They lured the massive horde all the way to the opposite end of the mall. “Make a right at that entrance, you can get through to Arden Way there,” Dean said while keeping an eye on his side mirror.

Luther slammed the pedal to the metal and zoomed down Arden until they made it back to the hotel.

“Which room was it? Hell, you start at that end, and we’ll meet up in the middle.” Dean began frantically rapping on the rooms. When he reached up to knock on room 110, the door opened, and there stood Ella.

“Dean! Oh My God, OMG, OMG! How’d you find us?” Tears streaked down Ella’s already tear-stained cheeks.

“Ella, well, Twinkle Me Mary!” Dean gave her a big hug.

“Luther,” Dean hollered, “over here.”

“I knew if I followed my gut instinct—I’d find you all,” Dean smiled.

“Good God all Mighty!” Luther drawled. “We found you!”

With Ella still latched onto him, Dean asked, “Is everyone here?” He gently grabbed her by the shoulders, “Ella, you’re safe now, we’re here.”

“Um, umm,” Luther interrupted. “We got maybe three minutes before those rank-smellin’ nimrods make it back here.”

Dean gave Luther a frown like he had just said something idiotic.
Thanks, I’m trying to calm Ella down.

“I’m just sayin’?” Luther threw up his arms as if to say “whatever,” then took watch outside the door.

“Why in tarnation are you all holed-up on the first floor, thought I taught you all better than that?” Dean scolded and paused when he heard a whimpering sound coming from inside of the room.

“Someone hurt?” Dean asked, scurrying into the room with Ella still clinging to him.

“He, he was attacked—by a huge zombie,” Ella wailed, flinging herself from Dean to Justin.

Luther poked his head inside the room. “When?”

“Uh, yesterday, I think, sorta lost track of time,” she shrugged her shoulders.

“Dean, want to watch the parking lot. I’ll check the kid out. I’ve seen my share of bites,” Luther said, rushing into the room.

“Hey, Luther is that you dude?” Justin propped himself up on the pillows. “Dude, I’ve got like the biggest headache
ever
,” Justin grumbled.

Ella latched onto to Justin. “He’s getting better, really—” Ella said, but she didn’t sound too sure.

“Ella, that so hurts,” Justin whimpered again.

“First off, I think your ribs are broken,” Luther stated. “And your nose is crooked. Guess you won’t be a pretty-boy anymore,” Luther teased.

“What happened? Where’s Scarlett and LuLu?” Dean asked from the front door.

“Looks like you got some knife wounds. Someone stab you?” Luther asked.

“I think I sorta did—by accident,” Ella’s eyebrows crossed.

“Nope, he’s not afflicted,” Luther said, after giving Justin the once over.

Ella gave Dean a quizzical look.

“What Luther means to say is, Justin won’t be turning into a zombie anytime soon,” Dean explained and was suddenly relieved.

“Looks like you’ve been in one hell of a fight—broken ribs, broken nose, stab wounds?” Luther shook his head as he made his way to the front doorway, his huge mass blocking out most of the sunlight.

“You ought to see the other guy . . .” but Justin’s tone didn’t sound too convincing.