'Til Death Do Us Part (57 page)

There was no need for the precursor
statement, he had already forgotten
about our previous conversation and was looking at me expectantly.

“
Put your seat belt on.
”

“
Seat belts are just a way for the insurance companies to impose their will upon the people.
”

“
I don
’
t fucking care
,
put it on.
”

Thankfully he did. I again engaged the truck into gear, t
he bucking was much less severe.
I must have been somewhat closer to first this time around. I was so intent on watching my hand on the gears and making sure I was giving adequate gas to the engine, I at first could not figure out why we were thrashing around so violently. I thought I had been doing everything right, then it finally dawned on me as I looked through the windshield, I was driving over the fallen bodies of hundreds of zombies.

The bucking had been so much better, it hid a majority of the bone splintering sounds of tires crushing
human skeletons.
Occasionally I would see matter spray off to my left, coating the curb an
d sometimes nearby buildings.
No
matter how much I tried
,
I could not convince myself
that I was running over garbage-
sized bags of ketchup, unless the condiment now came packed with meat. Chunks of the spray dr
ipped down from whatever it hit;
lamp posts, mailboxes, cafe furniture, even nearby zombies, though they didn
’
t seem to care too much.

Azile had t
he right state of mind for this:
catatonic.

John was diligently studying the machinegun. A hundred more feet of the sausage grinding and we woul
d be free—
free physically
, never mentally.
This
would be something we all took with us for the long haul.

“
Just babies,
”
Azile muttered.

I wanted her to shut the fuck up
, like yesterday
. The zombies to our side fell in step with the truck, some tried to get in, the rest were content to follow for now, most likely waiting until we became an easier target.

“
Take a right up here,
”
John said
,
never looking up from the gun.

I did it.
I didn
’
t even ask.
I didn
’
t know if it took us any closer to our destination, a
ll I
did
kn
o
w was that it would take the zombie skid line
out of
my rearview mirror. And that…
well that was fine by me.

“
Left up here,
”
John said
,
again not looking up.

“
Buddy
,
I appreciate the directions
,
but are you sure?
”
I asked.
He
didn
’
t even question my calling him buddy. There were zombies outside the truck and apparently inside too. He didn
’
t answer
, so
I took the turn. Right, left, straight
. D
idn
’
t matter much
;
I had no clue where I was going.

“
It
’
s up on the
left
about another mile,
”
John said.

“
You sure you
’
ve never been here?
”

He finally did look up this time.
“
I think I
’
d know where I
’
ve been or not been.
”

“
Just asking.
”

T
hen there it was
:
a Brown Stone
Hotel in downtown Philadelphia.
At
one time it was probably a pretty nice place. Ornate windows looked into a Victorian
themed lobby
adorned
with marble floors and ceilings. Now, however, it looked exactly like what you would expect a building
in a
war zone
to look like. Bullet holes pock marked the marble in a hundred different places. Furniture was
burned or stained a
brown
ish red color
.
(
Don
’
t dwell, don
’
t dwell
—
I said the little mantra over and over.)
Zombies that had been milling around inside came out when we rolled up. My first impression was that nobody was alive in
there.
How
could they be? T
hen it dawned on me.
Zombies
only hang around when food is available.

“Hey, fucktard!”
Someone shouted from above.
“Yeah, you, fucktard!” the guy said as I craned my neck to look up the hotel.
“
Why don
’
t you get that big zombie dinner bell outta here!
”

“
We
’
re looking for someone!
”
I yelled up.

“
Do I look like the fucking white pages, get the fuck outta here!
”
h
e yelled back, this time he showed the muzzle of hunting rifle to move his point along.

“
Give me the damn gun,
”
I said to John as I pulled my head back in the window. John carefully handed it over the slowly awakening Azile.
“
Two can play that game
,
ass wad!
”
I yelled up as I stuck the formidable machinegun up and out my window.

“
Oh shit!
”
He
pulled
his head back in.
“
We don
’
t want any trouble! Loud noise brings zombies
, that
’
s all I
’
m saying
,
”
h
e answered
,
not showing himself.

“
You just let us kn
ow if you have someone up there.
If
you don
’
t we
’
ll be on our way.
”
I was about to ask if John
’
s wife was up there
,
but I didn
’
t know her last name. I looked over to John, his eyes were closed and his fingers were crossed. I was really hoping this went well, but I was
n’t
counting on it.
Let
’
s face it everyone knew the city
’
s nickname about brotherly love was a misnomer. New Yorkers feared this place.

“
John
,
what
’
s your last name?
”
I asked
,
embarrassed that I had either forgotten it or
that I had never thought to ask.
Tracy told me I had the social graces of a goat, now I believed her.

Again I was surprised when he didn
’
t start in on some diatribe about how last name
s w
ere a way for the government to keep us in check.

“
Stephenson,
”
h
e said quickly.

“
Okay,
”
I told
him as I poked my head back out.
Now
I had my fingers crossed.
“
I
’
m looking for Stephanie Stephenson!
”
I shouted up.

The
re was nothing for long moments. I was about to yell back up;
the street was starting to get crowded and I wanted to get out of here befo
re I opened up again with the
M-240
.

Had I not been sitting
,
I would have had to find a seat when the ass wad from above answered.
“
Who wants to know?
”
h
e asked.

“
Do I look like a process server
,
you idiot?
”
I yelled up.
“
Her husband is here.
”

A pause but much shorter this time.
“
John, John is here?
”
a
woman asked.

I was about to respond
,
but that was before the wind was knocked out of me by John crawling over my lap.
“
Stephanie
,
I let the sour cream expire!
”
h
e shouted.

“
John, you silly, silly man. I have missed you so much,
”
s
he said
,
tears were dropping from her handsome face. She was pretty in a feminine
,
lumber jack sort of way. Her meaty forearms hung out as if she hoped she would be able to scoop her man up.
“
I don
’
t know who you are
, mister,
”
Stephanie said
,
obviously talking to me.
“
But thank you from the bottom of my heart.
”

John didn
’
t quite catch the connection when he responded.
“
I was afraid you might not remember me, you missed you
’
re last scheduled visit.
”

“
I would never forget you
,
my sweetheart. I was thanking the man that brought you to me.
”

“
Who
?
Ponch? Yeah he
’
s a good guy. H
e had shoes just like yours.
”

“
John
,
man
,
you
’
re really pressing on some places that are making me uncomfortable.
”
He didn
’
t move.

“
Ponch?
”
Stephanie asked.

“
It
’
s actually Mike
,
and you
’
re welcome. Your husband is a...unique man he
’
s saved my life more than once.
”

“
Thank you
,
Mike.
”

“
Okay
,
this has got to be snap decision time. We don
’
t have much time until thi
s place is flooded with zombies.
Either
you guys need to come down here and travel with us
,
or I need to know how to get John up to you.
”

“
Hold on,
”
Stephanie said
,
going back into the room.

“
John
,
what do you want to do?
”
I asked him.

“
With what?
”
h
e asked back
.
He
was looking at me less than three inches from my face, my personal space was getting severely violated.

“
The g
eneral consensus is to stay put,
”
Stephanie echoed down.
“
But I
’
m doing whatever John wants me to.
”

“
I
’
m not sure he gets the gravity of the situation
,
Stepha
nie, this is probably your call,
”
I told her.