The Queen of the Dead (25 page)

It was her turn to feel Father Joe’s warm touch. She wanted his hands all over her.

Kill this fucking heretic. Rip his eyes from his skull and soak them in wine. Taste his flesh.

“We need to be going,” Father whispered in her ear. “What you said about the zombies… what you did… I don’t understand it, but I don’t question what I believe. I believe you can help us. Can you walk? We don’t have far to go, and you can rest.”

Mina inhaled his scent. “Is my hair still a mess?”

“It looks like shit,” Father said. “General, we need every weapon we can take with us. Your ride’s useless. We’ll come back for it later if we can. Maybe take the side streets like you were doing. You and I will grab the duffel bags.”

General Masters didn’t reply; like a pouty child he started removing the bags from inside the Humvee.

***

They walked around the back of a shopping center to avoid attention.

Behind a boutique clothing store, Mina peered through an open back door to find a girl wearing a onesie pajama suit in the likeness of a pink bunny.

“I think I wanted to like bunnies when I was a girl, but Daddy didn’t think they tasted very good, so I could never have one.”

“That’s, uh…” Father rubbed his scarred jaw. “Maybe you need something better to wear. I think the General can help you out.”

“Let me ask her if it’s okay,” Mina said and walked into the store without their approval.

The dead girl shuffled around and knocked over a shelf of perfume when Mina came close. The suit looked cozy.

Mina smiled at the zombie.

The zombie girl let her undress it. She unzipped the blood-encrusted suit from the back and peeled it off. When she brushed the hood away from the girl’s blonde head, a strange flicker, like a light that had been turned on and off, flashed across her eyes. Mina blinked, surprised by the strange sensation. She touched the zombie girl’s head and saw:

Shivering behind the counter, tapping away at her cell phone which didn’t FUCKING WORK, Tiffany wondered if Ben would come for her. The store was closed, but people were still banging on the doors outside. Hundreds of them.

Why couldn’t she stop shaking? Why were all those people outside? What was going on?

If she left, Ben wouldn’t know where to find her. It was dangerous outside, and she knew Ben would be coming. Slipping out the back door was an option, but she couldn’t let him down.

Martha, her boss, had already slipped out the back, leaving her behind. She knew Ben was coming because he dropped her off at work. Why would he just leave her? If he left her there, dammit, she wasn’t going to the prom with him. That would be the end of it. He couldn’t betray her, not now. Not after everything they’ve been through.

Something fell in the back office. Another loud crash followed.

Was Ben coming in through the back door? That had to be the only way he could get in. He loved her and he would do anything to get through.

But she was still afraid.

A person stood in the doorway to the backroom.

Blood was caked on half the face and a large chunk of thick, amber hair was missing. Her right arm stopped at the elbow, from which stray drops of blood dripped onto the floor (the first thought Tiffany had was she would have to mop all that up).

It was Martha, only it wasn’t Martha. Not really.

She tried to say Martha’s name. A small burst of air escaped from between her teeth, but nothing else. The end of a question followed another breath, the intonation of mystery and horror.

Martha stepped forward and Tiffany closed her eyes. Her body betrayed her as she quivered like a fearful puppy. Warm urine gushed into her Hollister jeans (now she was a mess and Ben wouldn’t want to touch her later).

Tiffany covered her face with her hands. Martha’s hands were on her, but they felt strange, cold, and sticky.

If only she could talk. She was so scared and her damn mouth wouldn’t open. She wanted to scream, to ask Martha not to hurt her, because she knew that’s what Martha wanted. Like those people outside, banging on the doors.

Something wet poured over her wrist; she opened her eyes and felt the terrible burn in her wrist, as dark blood filled Martha’s mouth. Skin ripped from Tiffany’s wrist and forearm, exposing another bloody layer.

God, it hurt. It hurt like hell.

Tiffany found the strength to stand, her voice still muted by fear, her legs feeling rubbery and heavy at the same time. She pushed past Martha while pressing her arm against her forty-dollar Hollister baby tee, which Ben bought her.

She slipped into a closet full of overstock clothes that were due to get shipped back. Tiffany sat in the darkness and listened to Martha shuffle across the floor. She listened to the banging on the doors outside and waited. In the darkness, she waited while holding her wounded arm. Ben was out there somewhere, and he would come. Would he be able to find her?

For many slow minutes, she waited. When she started to become cold, she slipped on the bunny pajama suit she hated so much to warm herself up. She figured the thick fabric was a good barrier in case Martha tried to bite her again.

For a long time, she shivered in the dark and waited for Ben, listening and praying until she was too cold to speak or sob.

Mina removed her hand from Tiffany’s head and shuddered.

Another corpse lingered nearby; a dead, one-armed woman who stared at Tiffany as if they were communicating without words.

“Hi, Martha,” Mina said.

Martha’s head exploded and the body dropped like a stiff wooden door kicked over by an angry giant.

“Oh say can you see… by the dawn’s early light…” General Masters howled, a handgun in each fist.

The man doesn’t remember who he is anymore.
The voice spoke to her.
If you eat his face, nobody will care. The priest will watch. He’s weak, and will forgive you.

“You don’t have to hurt Tiffany,” Mina said to the general. “She was nice to me and let me have her clothes.”

The general holstered the guns and drew a pocketknife. Without missing a beat, he stomped across the floor and grabbed Tiffany by her throat. In her bra and underwear, she looked like a pitiful creature, malnourished and needy.

He pushed the knife into one of her eyes. “Gotta know the enemy,” he said.

Father cleared his throat. “You can help me get back to the people who need you, General.”

The eye popped out of Tiffany’s head. The General worked with all the precision and patience of a surgeon while digging out the second eye. “They don’t feel anything,” the general said. “They can keep on fighting and killing and they won’t get scared or run away. Back in ‘Nam, you see, this is what we needed to win. The only way to win, I always said so myself. I volunteered for the projects, let my men get the juice, but they didn’t take to it. Had men eat each other, but they didn’t feel it, either. They were aware of everyone as their enemy, but thinking ain’t what a soldier should do.”

Father held out his hand for Mina. She grabbed hold of his fingers.

General Masters turned Tiffany’s face and inserted the blade into her cheek. He slid the knife under and began carving. “Killing a man kills a part of you. Killing one man kills two men. The jungle is hot, and it gets dark at night. But if the men don’t feel; if they aren’t afraid and they just want to kill, we could win.”

“We’re better than that,” Father said. “The world is a dark place, but there’s hope and goodness. Men like you who want to fight for what’s right.”

“These things are just soldiers,” the general said as a piece of skin dropped to the floor at his feet. “Violence and blood is the only thing they want. They know the enemy, and it’s everyone who ain’t them. They’re perfect soldiers.”

“There’s a darker power at work here,” Father said, “a power that shuns the light. They won’t attack me, General. Haven’t you noticed? They won’t attack Mina, either. You saw what she did. We can win this with goodness and hope. We don’t have to fight fire with fire. Come with us.”

Father Joe was right. The power cackled inside of her skull. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, and she realized she could feel
them.
They were waiting in the shadows, watching.

They waited for her.

She could reach out to them, see the world through their eyes, but she didn’t want to. She could stay inside their heads forever. She was like a goddess, knowing everything the dead knew, seeing everything they see.

And they wanted nothing to do with Father Joe.

He’s for you to enjoy.
The voice tried to explain.

If the voice left her, she could focus on finding her meds and trying to get better.

You’ll never be like these people. You’re beyond them. You’re the maker. You’re the creator of the end. These are your children, your vengeance.

The general was just another madman like Jim with a violent philosophy, while Father Joe was a nice guy.

She could save the world. She could shut all the zombies down. Free them. Let them all go.

But you don’t want to do that. You’ll never know why. You’ll never know who you are.

That might be important.

General Masters was still going to work on Tiffany. The zombie’s arms were wrapped around him, and he twisted it around in a macabre dance while singing his song.

“And the rocket’s red glaaaaaarrrrrrre, with bombs bursting in air…” the general sang.

The priest is a funny man, isn’t he?

Mina giggled because she remembered something funny. “Zombies don’t kill people, people kill people.”

“We’re the other white meat,” Father whispered. “He’s crazy as hell, but we can’t leave him.”

“Tiffany, you can go away, now,” Mina said, though she felt like the voice inside her was saying it, speaking for her.

Tiffany slumped into the general’s hands and dropped to the floor.

“There’s something beautiful in you,” Father said. “A girl in a bunny costume can save the day. God has touched you, child.”

“He’s not a very nice person,” Mina said, but didn’t know who she was talking about.

The three survivors walked out of the boutique store and emerged in the glow of fire. Mina could feel the warmth of the flames on her face. She put the bunny hood over her head and walked near the general.

We’ll never leave you. Accept us now and accept these minions who adore your presence. The dead are yours to command. You’re the voice of damnation, the genocide of a mortal species.

The hunger wasn’t going away. The general was a killer. He reminded her of Jim because he believed there was some kind of purpose behind killing, but murder was murder. Father would never kill anybody, and with all the zombies walking around already, nobody would miss another killer.

“Hold me, General,” Mina said. “I don’t feel so well.”

The old man didn’t know how to respond. As the corpses dispersed along the avenue, she hugged his waist and unbalanced him.

You don’t belong with them. You belong with us. The mother of the dead. Oh yes, this is the afterbirth of your nightmare.

Father led them past a Best Buy parking lot; they wound their way through a maze of cars while sidestepping several more corpses, all of which moved aside when Mina and the priest approached. Something exploded behind them, and they kept walking. General Masters pointed a gun at everything, and Father had to remind him more than once to save the bullets.

Despite all the suburban side streets that branched off the avenue, there weren’t many of the dead around.

You’ll see them soon enough. They’re hanging out just down the road… all of them. The priest is taking you right to them. Yes…

She wanted to be near Father Joe. Her medication-needy mind might be screwing with her emotions; one minute she wanted Patrick, the next, she wanted to hear every word Father Joe could say. She wanted her head to rest against his big shoulders, and she wanted to watch his damaged face curl up into a bright smile. It wasn’t a physical attraction, but rather a magnetism she couldn’t explain, a desire to be as close as she could to a strange man whose heart pumped only the blood of forgiveness.

She could taste the blood in her mouth, could feel the pieces of flesh stuck between her teeth.

A little kiss doesn’t hurt.

“Stop right there!”

General Masters dropped her and pivoted with handguns in his fists.

“Drop the weapons!” a woman’s voice repeated. “We’ve got you covered. Drop ‘em and put your hands up.”

Father Joe dropped the duffel bag, while the general held his.

“Come out, traitor!” the general scanned the darkness with his handguns. “You ain’t stopping me from this fight! You ain’t trampling on my flag, you hear me? Get the hell outta my way, you punks!”