Zombie Fallout 19, page 25
“Done?”
He shook again, then rolled his neck, blew through his lips making them vibrate into a raspberry sound. “Okay, I think so.”
“We need to go back to the store,” I told him.
“Are you insane? Scratch that, I already know the answer.”
“BT they’re going to be on us in a mile, mile and a half if we’re lucky. The only chance we have of making it through the night is inside that store.”
“Then what? We barely have enough ammunition to defend ourselves with, much less go on the offensive. Then there’s the not-so-insignificant issue of sneaking back into prison.”
“Give me something else then.”
“Me? You’re the ideas guy.”
“But you never like my ideas.”
“Yeah and I don’t like this one, unfortunately this one has merit.”
“Kirby, fetch Tommy. We’re heading back to the store. Yeah, I know.” I was trying to head off the questions I was about to be bombarded with.
“Not gonna work, sir,” Reed had been trailing. “They have eyes on us, got a few that have been keeping pace.”
“Sneaky bitch.” Just when I underestimated her she proved that even the undead have one up on me. It starts to get a wee bit complex-inducing when you realize you can’t keep up with the undead.
The one good thing about decision making being taken away from you is that you don’t have to make any. I waved off Tommy and a confused Kirby who were looking my way.
“Come on, we’re going to drag him if we have to.” I smacked BT just as the sun became nothing more than a memory. Tommy appeared to have a bit more pep to his step, but that was likely due to the fact most of his weight was supported between myself and BT. We were making a better pace, but Grimm was always going to be my gauge, and if he wasn’t laboring, we weren’t moving fast enough, especially since he was just getting over the flu, this should be kicking his ass. It wasn’t.
“Rose.” I had to space out the words; carrying a person is never easy under any circumstances, even a toddler gets heavy after a while, and this was starting to hurt while also aggravating old injuries. “Any…surprises?” I sounded like an oversized, winded offensive lineman forced to do hash mark sprints.
“I’m out, not so much as a firecracker, sir.” This she told me while jogging backward, matching my pace.
I found that hard to believe (not that she could run as fast as me backward, that made complete sense). It was the part about her not having anything that went boom, or even pop. That was like anybody else being completely naked at mustering. I wanted to ask her to look again and make sure, kind of like the machines at the supermarket self-checkouts asked you to check your cart again to make sure no items were left unscanned so that Stan the big security guard didn’t have to tackle you in the parking lot because you walked out without paying for an errant potato that may have rolled behind a gallon of milk. It was a fucking potato. Idiot ruined my pants when he took me down. The thing of it was, it had come out of a five-pound bag I had most assuredly paid for. I think Stan got a medal. Fuck Stan. Rose turned and resumed her jog, facing the front. I could tell she was chomping at the bit to pour some speed on.
I couldn’t hear anything coming up behind us; Tommy’s labored breathing sounded like Henry’s fifty-yard sprint after hearing the dinner bell. It was Reed that gave us the heads up.
“Quarter mile,” was all he said. To what he was referring did not need any further explanation. We passed through the shanty town; I was wrong if I’d thought things were going to get better. I didn’t think that, but I would have been wrong if I had. I’ll count that as a victory, as those were rare as of late. We were in grade-A certified scrub land, dirt and dried grass as far as the eye could see. Not so much as a fire hydrant for us all to hide behind. Up ahead to our right I could see a tall black wrought iron fence and gate then large monoliths, some more than ten feet tall. It was a graveyard, an old one, by the looks of it, and the gothic appearance made it look as if it would be more at home in Transylvania.
Fighting in a graveyard, first off, seemed sacrilegious, then secondly made the outcome appear to be preordained. Kind of like dieting while visiting Hersheyland in Pennsylvania, maybe the Cheesecake Factory is a better analogy. Whatever, either destination was destined for failure. I dipped down as Tommy sagged, his fuel gauge was on E. BT grunted as he tried to take on more; I think I gasped, but that doesn’t sound overly manly, so, okay, I grunted, too. So it is written, so is it truth. Even with Tommy’s heavy breathing funneled directly into my eardrum, I was now hearing the feet slapping sound of pursuit.
A quarter-mile had shrunk to two hundred yards. The graveyard, for the minimum of protection that it offered, was double that distance away. Tommy’s head lolled forward while his eyes rolled backward. We’d quickly gone from assisting to carrying, as the toes of his boots were being dragged. The final vestiges of the day allowed us to see, and there were thankfully no clouds in the sky, but the moon was nowhere to be seen. We wouldn’t be in complete darkness fighting zombies in a damned graveyard, but this had all the makings of a horror movie. Maybe even a bit on the cliché side of things. I’d talk to the director about it later.
“Kirby, grab something!” BT shouted.
Tommy had become a boneless slab of meat, making his weight seem doubled. To Kirby’s credit he didn’t waste a second asking questions, instead he came over and grabbed the back of Tommy’s belt and hefted up. It helped. My back took that exact moment to knot up. With my head tossed back, I let out a pained shout.
Stenzel slowed and had taken a few shots at the chasing horde. It was not a powerful enough dissuasion to halt their advance. I don’t know specifically what was going on in my back, but it was screwing up my legs' ability to operate correctly. My left was going pins and needles numb, and the right hurt so much with each step I had to will myself to continue. If the graveyard offered sanctuary, then the need to run would be obvious, but right now, I couldn’t figure out the point of it. Outrunning the zombies wasn’t going to happen, neither was escape. Stubbornly I continued. If nothing else I am that: stubborn through and through. Reed at some point was helping move Tommy, hard to miss the concern in his eyes, even if I was suffering through my own agony.
The rusted gate stood partially open. Gary was first through; he moved to the side and began firing through the iron bars. A protective bubble had formed around us as the squad opened fire. If the speed of the shots were any indication they were spurring us on as best they could. It felt as if my heart would burst as Tommy fell into the graveyard, pulling me down to the side of him. This was it; this resting spot was going to be our final one. Shit had come full circle in a macabre way. A bony hand smacked against my boot, but it had nothing on the rough ones that pulled me inside the gate.
“Run,” I urged the squad. Tommy, Kirby, and myself were a tangled heap of lost humanity. If the rest of the squad could escape while we were feasted on, that was something I could hang the abyss of eternity on. Instead, I, along with the others, was dragged further in, until such point as we could stand on our own.
“Um, Mike,” Gary started as he pulled back from the fence.
Couldn’t really miss what was going on, the zombies had stopped; they would not enter.
“What is this new devilry?" I was fighting through a stitch in my side, a spasming back that would not unfurl, and a pair of legs that had filed for emancipation from the rest of my body.
“Hallowed ground?” Grimm offered more question than explanation.
I don’t know if mythology or movie lore truly applies in real-life situations, and either way, I’d never seen anything to indicate zombies had any no-go zones, but there it was. We’d been given a reprieve by the governor, seemingly after the switch had been thrown, but we’d take our half-shocked bodies and move as far from this place as we could. Just because the dam appeared to be holding didn’t mean it couldn’t burst at any point. I would have loved to shut the gate and lock it up. A chain hung from one side of it, but the enormous padlock attached to it was closed, locking no one in and no one out. I figured it was too much to hope for that the key was hidden above the door to a crypt; while I was wishing shit it would be nice if that key unlocked said crypt and led us all magically to Xanadu. I sighed. That was the end of that desire.
Tommy was still in no shape to move under his own power, and he was going to need help that didn’t involve me, as it was all I could do to keep myself moving. Kirby, Grimm, and Gary took over. Reed, Walde, and Stenzel kept an eye on our backs as we navigated around ancient headstones and, in random spots, handmade crosses made of scrap wood and wire.
“I don’t like this,” BT said as he came abreast.
“What’s not to like? We’re not being eaten,” I told him truthfully.
“When you put it like that, but everything else about this sucks.”
“Okay, you have me there. Stenzel!”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you see the queen, put two in her skull,” I told her.
“Are you sure about that?” she asked.
“Good call—better make it three.”
“Sir, I could be completely wrong about this, but it seems to me she’s the only one that could have done something like this.”
“Stenzel, I will not have my orders undermined by intelligent speculation and logical facts.”
“Way to stick to your guns,” BT offered.
“One to the skull?” I countered.
“Sir?”
“Fine, fine, no shots to the skull. Rose, you and Stenzel are going to watch our withdrawal. You keep us in sight the entire time. Understood? Reed, Walde watch our sides.”
I got nods and “aye, sirs.” We continued. The stars were shining as brightly as tiny pinpricks in the fabric of reality can. We could see, but not far—let me clarify that. We could actually see very far off, the contours of the land were in stark contrast to the relative brightness of the sky, but close up, was a different story. Being in a graveyard is always going to be spooky, just the nature of the wiring in our heads. But this seemed to be taking it up a notch. Many of the sites had gargoyles, weeping angels, trumpet blaring angels, some with the carved busts of the deceased, it was downright fucking creepy. The entire place was bathed in shadows, and for some reason, zombies did not want to come in. Was there something beyond their queen’s command keeping them away? Something spiritual, mystical, evil? What ring of Hell had we stepped out of only to stumble into another?
The enclosed area seemed to stretch on indeterminably; when we could no longer see the entrance we stopped to take five. The three carrying Tommy let him down gently, his back resting against a twelve-foot spire of marble. He was awake when I went to check on him.
“You’re not going to believe this,” he said with a dry chuckle.
“Are you going to tell me you’ve been malingering this entire time?”
“Look behind me.” With some effort and some assistance, he was able to sit forward just enough that I could see, in large engraved letters, the name etched in stone.
“You have got to be shitting me,” I said as I gazed upon the name, Lestat. “Of all the gravestones in all the world.”
“Kind of what I thought.” He slumped back against it. “I should be able to continue on my own in a few minutes.”
“Good thing, because all those Pop-Tarts you pack away are heavy.”
“Mr. T, I want to thank—”
“Stop, just stop. Leaving you behind was never going to happen. Rest up; I don’t want to stay here too long. Place is freaking me out.”
I think he had fallen asleep before I’d fully stood up.
“How’s he doing?” BT was patrolling the general area. Simple to tell he was feeling the same unease I was.
“Hurting, but better.”
“Do you think there’s another reason why the zombies didn’t come in?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“I’d say vampires, but we have that angle covered. Werewolves, maybe?
“No moon,” I replied.
He looked up, I could see enough of his face to tell that gave him some measure of relief.
“Yeti?”
“Are you just throwing out random monsters, trying to impress me?”
He didn’t answer.
“Could be ghosts.” I was half-kidding, but it was more reasonable than Yeti.
“Don’t like ghosts, Mike. Can’t pull their spleens out their mouths if the need arises.”
“Of all the reasons not to like ghosts, I’m not sure where that one resides.”
“I’ve been thinking.” Dallas startled both of us. I may have jumped like a person afraid of a mouse will when one scurries across the kitchen floor in the middle of the night. She’d come out from behind a large monument. “Sorry, was taking care of some…doesn’t matter. I had time to think, though. We know firsthand that the old slow zombies and the speeders are enemies. In the speeders’ minds, they may believe this is where the shufflers come from.”
“I like that a whole lot better than werewolves,” I said.
“Werewolves, sir?” she asked.
“His idea.” I pointed to Top.
“As if. Dallas, does that even remotely sound like something I would say?” BT asked her. “Don’t let the captain try to fool you.”
“I would rather not get involved,” she said.
“Nice. Like I don’t already say enough stupid shit you’re going to cram more in my mouth? If that is the explanation, Dallas, it’s only going to be a matter of time until they figure out that none of their slow cousins are coming.” All of a sudden the werewolf thing seemed a bit better. But only if there was, like, one of them, not a pack. Then I shook my head and chuckled quietly. “Werewolf packs, that’s not a thing.”
“What’s that?” BT asked.
“We need to keep moving. Tommy, you ready to go?”
“Sorry,” Tommy responded after a few moments of silence. “I was giving you a thumbs up.”
“Is that weird for you?” BT asked.
“What?”
“To get a thumb’s up instead of the normal finger.”
“Having fun?” I asked.
“I’m nervous, and this place is the reason behind it. Giving you shit is like a whistling in the dark kind of thing. If not outright comforting, it lends a sense of normalcy.”
“I can’t say I’m happy to oblige. I think I liked it better when Kirby was on your shit list, it took the focus off of me.”
“Can’t have everything.” He smacked my shoulder. “If that were the case, your sister, along with her looks, would be able to cook.”
“I don’t think it’s healthy that you always refer to Lyndsey as my sister, as opposed to your wife,” I told him.
“Only because I know it’s a little unsettling for you.”
“What are friends for,” I replied.
“That’s the spirit.”
“That a pun? Considering where we are?”
“Didn’t mean it that way.” He took a casual look behind himself.
Tommy was up, and we were picking our way through the expansive area. I found it strange that there were no roads we could walk on, and that there was little uniformity to how the graves were laid. I wondered if maybe the person that built the Tetris game had gotten his inspiration from this place.
After going perhaps a quarter-mile, Rose had come up alongside. “Sir, I’m detecting movement. Thought it might be a trick of the light or my imagination, but Stenzel confirms it, too.”
I noticed that Stenzel had pulled in tighter with the rest of the squad. She wasn’t more than fifteen feet away. I had that queasy feeling of someone or something watching but was attempting to explain it away as an overactive imagination. If it was zombies, they likely would have attacked, not just skulked around in the dark. Still, what were the options that didn’t float to the supernatural? It was possible there could be people living within the grounds; maybe they had discovered the relative safety of the place, much as we had. Kind of an ironic duel-edged sword there: safe from zombies, but living among the dead. Go figure. It was a toss-up which I preferred more. People could be much more dangerous.
“Stay tight,” I told Stenzel. I couldn’t see much, but her body language leaned toward relief. So now, not only did we need to watch our footing, but we also needed to be on the lookout for whatever was stalking us, if anything. I wouldn’t mind a wee bit of mass hysteria or hallucinations. Better that than the alternative, any alternative.
“This sucks,” I muttered. I’m not sure when that became my official mantra, but the urge to chant it was getting old quick.
I thought I saw something off to my left, but when I swung to look, there was nothing. I knew that peripheral vision, especially at night, was more likely to catch movement, but instinct would override that and necessitate attempting to locate it straight on. BT had also turned, voiding any chance that what I thought I saw was merely a mirage.
“We’re just trying to pass through, we mean no harm.” I didn’t say the words loudly, but they shattered through the silence of the night. That was something I hadn’t noticed until just that very moment. There was no sound, no crickets chirping, no nightbirds calling out, zero. It was still, devoid of life; it felt like we’d been sunk into a pool of distilled water.
“What is going on?” BT asked.
Subconsciously, the entire squad had moved to within an arm’s reach of each other. If this were a conventional battle zone, one grenade would have taken us all out. Right then I didn’t think it prudent to have them spread out. I would have loved to have a couple of people range ahead and let us know where this place ended...or was it like purgatory on earth and we would be wandering endlessly? I blamed that thought on too many Twilight Zone episodes. My primitive brain was begging to shelter for the night and build a fire large enough to chase the darkness away. The analytical human part knew I was likely feeding the internal flames with panic-inducing fuel, making the situation much worse than anything that was actually happening.
