Dead Chaos by April Brookshire
CHAPTER NINE
After asking around, I found Kyle and Zeke in a classroom watching the biology students experiment on a zombie chained to the wall. There was a glass case around the zombie, a man whose age was impossible to distinguish with so much decay. A patch of grey flesh was hanging from his forehead down to his cheek. He was missing several fingers spread over both hands and, from the sounds he was making, really pissed off. The zombie was mostly naked, revealing all sorts of bruises and discolorations. I wondered who had the lucky job of undressing him.
I could feel several more zombies behind a chained and padlocked metal door. An infected adolescent boy clawed at the bars of his cage from across the room, staring hungrily at us. His urgent groans made me want to put him out of his misery. Small and scrawny, the infected kid was stuck in a permanent state of agony.
I imagined myself using my power to drop the infected man behind the glass case, just to see what the scientists made of it. They’d no doubt take credit, thinking it was something they’d done to make a zombie pass out for an hour or so.
Creeping up behind Kyle, I poked him in the back. “What are they trying to accomplish?”
A nerdy woman in a white lab coat glanced at me with an irritated look and answered for him. “We’re trying to figure out if snake venom has any effect on the dead.”
Another “scientist” entered the room carrying a crate with tiny holes poked in it. This was turning out to be interesting. Lab coat number two unlatched the crate and climbed up a ladder to throw it into the zombie’s playpen from up above. I watched intently as absolutely nothing happened for what seemed like minutes.
“So, you’re testing the infected’s resistance to empty boxes?” I joked lightheartedly, trying to alleviate the boredom of nothing happening. That jest got an unenthusiastic grunt from the male scientist and a disgusted look from the female. Glad they managed to maintain some levity. Or not, as the case was.
The crate finally began to wobble slightly and a snake peeked its head out slowly. The zombie seemed indifferent to the snake’s presence, but it had definitely noticed it. Both lab coats were furiously taking notes as the snake crept closer to the zombie. I wondered what the heck they could be writing down. I imagined it was something like this:
The snake hissed
The zombie groaned
The snake slithered
The zombie stared blankly
Exciting stuff. Sign me up for Zombie 101.
Of course the zombie didn’t care about the snake. Everyone knew the infected didn’t eat coldblooded creatures. Throw a raccoon in there and we’d be seeing something.
“What kinda snake is that?” Zeke asked quietly, and I noticed there was fear in his eyes when he looked at the zombie.
“Crotalus Viridis,” responded the male scientist.
“The hell is that?” questioned Zeke a little louder.
“Prairie rattlesnake,” scoffed the scientist. Yeah, because everyone knows the Latin name, dork. Did the science geek really expect a little kid to study taxonomy? Science had never been my favorite subject in school, but if science fiction were taught, I’d have aced every test. Little did I know back then all this would happen, taking some of the fiction out of science fiction.
The snake sauntered over to the zombie and started shaking its rattle in warning. The infected male glanced down momentarily, distracted by the noise, and looked back at us with a famished expression. All snapping jaws and grunts with this one. The rattlesnake lunged at the zombie and bit his leg. It retreated back and swayed its rattle a little bit, judging its opponent. The zombie was unaffected by the bite and continued to fight the chains and snap at us. The snake bit him again and again, but the zombie showed no signs of feeling it.
“Now the waiting game,” mused Kyle.
“The typical time it takes for a rattlesnake bite to take effect is generally twenty to thirty minutes, but considering the amount of bites, that should rapidly accelerate the process,” the female scientist remarked while making notes.
I imagined her writing: The Crotalus Viridis bit the Manus Zombis seven times
These people needed a life outside the lab.
Again, I imagined dropping the zombie to see the exhilarated reactions of the geeks, thinking they’d done it with their snake venom experiment. I didn’t actually do it, even I wasn’t that messed up. Now, if it were Riley and Alexi I was playing a trick on, well. . . .
We stood there watching, waiting while the snake abandoned the fight and retreated back into its crate. After thirty minutes the zombie showed no signs of relenting. I wouldn’t have guessed it would show effects of being poisoned. Zombies don’t have blood coursing through their veins because they’re dead. Without the heart pumping the venom through the body and running rampant through the nervous system, there was never going to be a reaction. What a complete waste of time.
“This is lame!” Zeke declared and I wholeheartedly agreed.
The three of us left the laboratory and made our way to the chapel to discuss the upcoming wedding. The pastor, a slight man with a receding dirty blonde hairline, was conversing with a middle-aged woman next to the altar. She was whispering and tears were rolling down her cheeks. The familiarity of that look made me shiver. That was the look of soul-wrenching grief. She spotted us and scurried out the back door. The pastor shot a concerned expression her way and gestured us toward him.
“Hello, children, how can I help you?” he queried. The man had a kind face, but his eyes couldn’t hide a deep sadness.
“We were hoping to discuss marriage,” answered Kyle hesitantly, uncomfortable with the scene we’d walked in on.
“We want to get married and were wondering what steps were needed to do that,” I added more confidently.
“Ah, that’s good, happy tidings for once. My name is Pastor Dan, please have a seat.” He gestured to the nearest pew and we sat down. Kyle reached out to hold my hand and I squeezed his in return. “Well, firstly, you need to really examine this decision and make sure it’s the right thing for you. There isn’t any reason to rush into this, correct?” he asked while looking at my stomach. Some nerve this holy man had. Little did he know, getting alone time with my fiancé wasn’t easy.
“No, I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you’re asking. We’ve been together a long time and this is a well thought out decision.” God, when I put it that way it sounded more like a business transaction. I hastily added, “We love each other very much.”
“Excellent! There are usually required meetings and counseling to make sure you’re both prepared for the holy and beautiful act of matrimony. Seeing as you don’t live here, and every day could be your last, I’d be happy to marry you right now,” the pastor suggested.
“Um, that sounds good and all, but our family isn’t with us and we have some friends who live up in the mountains to invite,” I told him. “We were hoping to set a date next month to give our friends enough time to plan for the trip here.”
“No need to set a date. I have lots of time to fill. You’d be surprised how many people have already forgotten about God,” Pastor Dan confided sorrowfully. I hadn’t forgotten God myself, just questioned what the hell he was thinking. Maybe he was on hiatus.
While we were talking with Pastor Dan, Zeke had sneaked onto the altar and was fidgeting with the cross. At that point, he began throwing it into the air and catching it. The Pastor saw, a scandalized look crossed his face, and he turned to run up the stairs in an attempt catch it.
“Do you have no respect, son?” he asked a confused Zeke, snatching the cross out of his little hands.
“Respect for what? I was just playing with that wooden thing.” Zeke retorted angrily. I wasn’t sure if he was serious or just messing with the pastor.
“That wooden thing is a cross. It’s a symbol of Jesus’ love for you,” lectured Pastor Dan indignantly. “Tell me you’ve been baptized, child.”
“Not sure what the means, Dan,” Zeke barked at the
scolding adult.
“It means you’ve been cloaked in the loving embrace of God as one of his children,” replied a flustered Pastor Dan. “It enables you to have a deep and personal relationship with the Lord.”
“Well, me and God ain’t on the best of terms, if you know what I mean,” Zeke said proudly. “So, our relationship ain’t so friendly.”
Jumping up, I grabbed Zeke’s shoulder and gave Pastor Dan an apologetic smile. “He’s a work in progress, I’m afraid.”
“I’m available for baptisms anytime, also. Talk with the little one and perhaps I could perform both ceremonies on the same day,” he offered amiably, all signs of earlier antagonism gone.
Kyle and I took that as our cue to leave. “Thanks, Pastor Dan, we’ll see you soon,” Kyle said in parting as I dragged Zeke out the door.
We met the rest of the family at the town’s main general store and tavern, where they were stocking up on biodiesel and eating lunch. Grabbing a few fries from Riley’s plate, I slouched down next to Melanie. I reached for the last piece of pizza, but was thwarted by a ninja-like Zeke. A burly lady with a gimp brought us some sandwiches and my family resumed our noisy conversation about what else to trade for. After getting requests from everyone, my dad assured us he’d get what he could. I wasn’t worried, if not from here, we’d get it somewhere.
One of the great things about our house was the fully stocked wine cellar that came with it. We found hundreds of vintages that soon became our most valuable bartering chips. The town’s seemingly unlimited supply of biodiesel was more than a fair trade for the wine we’d probably never drink. For a long time we used fuel stabilizers in regular unleaded gas for our cars, but when the cars began to perform inconsistently we were forced to find another way to get around. After our first visit to Fort Collins we scoured the mountains for cars with diesel engines and eventually found enough to get by. A few months later, we commissioned the scientists and engineers at Fort Collins to build us a biodiesel generator for our home. Adding that to the existing solar panels created a nearly endless supply of power.
The great thing about Fort Collins was their reluctance to scavenge for supplies. They often relied on small groups like ours to bring in goods to trade. They produced much of what they needed themselves and got the rest through trading. We were perhaps their best trading partners, what with the large amount of items we were able to bring in. No one I knew of had my ability to drop the dead and I pitied the scavengers who had to do it the hard way.
While walking through the aisles of supplies, I found a new knife sharpener for my tomahawk and a healthy looking strawberry plant. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten a strawberry and had to have it. We’d have to try planting strawberries again. I turned the corner to find my father and discovered Riley making out with some boy. Her hands were in his back pockets and he was holding onto her hips with a death grip. Such amateurs. I thought to myself, who am I to stop her? That was, until he went for the boob. Big sister alert! Sure, mine wasn’t as honed as it could be, but it wasn’t totally busted.
“Hey now, that’s enough of that! Who’s your friend, Riley? You guys seem close.” I commented suspiciously. I had the power here. There was no way she wanted me to tell dad about this.
“Oh hey, Anya, this is, uh, my friend, uh,” she stammered with a serious blush, but in her sweetest sisterly voice.
“Nolan,” he supplied for her. He put his hand out to shake, the one that went for boob, and I had no choice but to leave him hanging. I thought I remembered him from a visit awhile back. He looked taller now, though he was about the same age as my sister.
“Nice to meet you, Nolan,” I choked out as politely as I could manage. “Hey, Riley, dad’s looking for us.”
Begrudgingly, my idiot sister followed me to where everyone was waiting and we tallied the rest of our merchandise. Dad handed over various items, including around twenty bottles of wine and several packs of batteries. Riley made a special effort to keep my dad from talking to me. I owned her for the time being. We loaded the supplies into our vehicles, taking extra care to protect my new plant.
My dad gathered us all together afterward at the back of the trailer. “Alright guys, I’m making a stop at Doug and Jill’s. Who wants to come along?” Nobody really seemed that interested in going.
“I’ll go,” I told him, figuring I should be the one to invite them to my wedding.
Suddenly Riley seemed a helluva lot more interested in going herself. Smiling sugar sweet at our father, she said, “Me too, daddy.” Anything to keep me from telling dad about her little make out session with some random boy.
Kyle, who was going to be riding with Justin and Alexi in the truck, came to kiss me goodbye. First he pulled me into his arms, squeezing me. “Be careful.”
“You too.” I murmured against his lips. “Take it easy on that leg.”
He smiled in answer and walked over to the truck’s passenger side. Justin was already behind the wheel, engine running. Viktor was driving the Suburban again, with Melanie up front and Paulina and Zeke in the back. The kid looked exhausted and would probably nap the whole way home, lucky for them.
The three of us were taking the Jeep. Riley made sure she grabbed the front seat, which was rightfully mine as the older sibling. Before we could leave, the sentries had to dispose of the zombies near the moat. It seemed some of the zombies were learning not to fall into the pit now. We were waiting in line behind the truck and Suburban. I wanted to see what was holding us up.
“Be right back!” Hopping out of the Jeep, I walked up the stairs of the watchtower to check it out. A stocky young man grabbed a huge deep-sea fishing pole and attached a porterhouse to its hook. He cast and began reeling the meat toward the spiked moat. When it was dangling over, he stopped and swung it back and forth in enticement. Another angler was preparing his line for the same procedure. The zombies faithfully leapt to their doom, except for one. An infected, a ratty-haired brunette wearing a mangy CSU sweatshirt, was lucky enough to take the steak, pole and all, with her into the ditch.
The fisherman fell victim to one of the classic blunders: Never go in against a zombie when fresh meat is on the line.
“Holy shit! I think that chick was in my Economics class!” the young man said in amazement.
Huh, small world.
I left the cursing sentry and returned to the Jeep. The impaled zombie was devouring the raw steak as we drove past. I thought it was a waste to lose the meat to the biter, but I suppose it wasn’t intended he should actually get it. The people of Fort Collins were always trying new things in the name of progress.
We drove away from the college, taking the clearest route. Weaving around abandoned cars, we caught the attention of a few roving infected. We left town with a wake of zombies following us slowly, determined despite the impossibility of catching up.
Leaning forward in my seat, I pointed out to Riley and my dad a horde of about twenty who were approaching town across an open field. “Gross!” Riley blurted. “That one is naked!” She was right. There was a female at the front of the pack in her birthday suit. I wondered what the boys in the vehicles in front of us thought about that. Paulina was probably covering Zeke’s eyes, wishing she could do the same to Justin and Alexi.
I had the urge to kill the female infected just to save her the shame. Her hair and body was covered in dirt and God knows what else. Wherever her soul was, she’d be cringing at the sight. As a family we’d discussed the theological and metaphysical quite often in the beginning. None of us wanted to believe the soul was trapped inside the infected body upon reanimation. Our mother had been bit and turned two days later. Before Viktor was forced to kill Svetlana Donovan, her infected body went after Alexi. No, my mother’s kind soul left this world for another. It was a comfort to us, and others in our group, to think our loved ones passed on to a better place.
The infected horde changed course when they spotted our vehicles. Now moving with purpose, they v
eered away from town and headed in the direction we were going. That would be about twenty less victims for the spiked moat.
Eventually, we parted ways with the Suburban and truck. Dad had grabbed his Bob Dylan CD from the truck and insisted upon torturing us by singing along to every song. Even his off-key rendition of “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” couldn’t detract from the wild beauty of the passing scenery. A little two-lane highway running along a stream led us through the mountains. This area seemed untouched by the plague and the picturesque backdrop could almost fool a person into hoping for an end to the threat.
Unable to wait until we got there, Riley made dad pull over so she could empty her bladder. Naturally, she screamed while she was off in the woods. I hadn’t felt any of the dead, so I slowly got out of the Jeep but my Dad rushed to save her. The skunk she’d come across was already waddling away from the hysterical girl. Oh, how it would’ve made my day if she’d been sprayed. I stole the front seat and the rest of the drive was fairly uneventful.
We pulled into Walden in the early evening and strangely there was a zombie population in town, which was all but unheard of here. That was its appeal to the Evans family. They were the only other family unit we were close friends with and twice a year we’d visit them. Isolated, highly elevated and where Doug Evans grew up, Walden would be the perfect place to live indefinitely if we weren’t already settled in our cabin. We’d first met them four years ago when we’d stopped at a forest ranger station and found them already emptying it of its supplies.
As we neared the firehouse where the Evans family made its home, we were shocked to see the firehouse door open with a couple zombies lingering inside. My dad sped up and pulled into the driveway, screeching to a halt.
“Anya, do it,” he ordered.
I put out the zombies within moments. Given the size of Walden, no doubt these were the only biters in town. We walked guns in hand, even Riley, into the firehouse. First thing first, my dad used a machete to permanently put out the infected. We searched for signs of the Evans. There were things knocked over and dresser drawers left hanging. In the kitchen there was a pot of sludgy spoiled soup on the stove. A note on the fridge with a bold LEVI on top was dated two weeks ago.
In case you stop by, don’t worry. We were overrun by a horde. All safe and going into the mountains until the infected clear out. We’ll check back in a few weeks. –Doug
The zombies we just killed must’ve been stragglers who hadn’t clear out with the rest of the horde when it moved on. “Well at least they’re safe,” I offered my upset father. The Evans had a backup holdout less than an hour away but we weren’t sure of the exact location, never having been there.
“That’s true, but let’s do them a favor and get rid of these corpses so the girls don’t have to see them when they get home.” My dad meant the Evans’ young daughters, Madison and Kayla, who were thirteen and eleven.
The removal and relocation took my dad half an hour and it gave me an opportunity to clean up the firehouse for them a bit. Everybody liked coming home to a clean house. My dad loaded the corpses onto a large blue tarp and connected it to the back of the Jeep, dragging the bodies down the street. When he disappeared from sight, I blackmailed Riley into helping me with the housework.
My dad returned, tarp-less and corpse-less awhile later. “All done! Let’s go!” he called out the window after pulling up in front of the firehouse and honking his horn. I shut the firehouse door behind us, thinking the Evans must have been in quite the hurry to get out of there if they’d left this open.
“Finally!” whined Riley. “You know, I’m happy they weren’t here. Madison and Kayla are so boring. They still collect dolls.” Riley snickered as if that were the most pathetic thing she’d ever heard.
Fed up with her self-centered, snobbish attitude, I said while getting back into the front seat, “Hey, dad, guess what?”
“What?” he played along good-naturedly.
“I saw Riley making out with some boy back in Fort Collins,” I tattled then added for good measure, “he was getting handsy.”
“You bitch!” Riley screeched from the backseat.
After asking around, I found Kyle and Zeke in a classroom watching the biology students experiment on a zombie chained to the wall. There was a glass case around the zombie, a man whose age was impossible to distinguish with so much decay. A patch of grey flesh was hanging from his forehead down to his cheek. He was missing several fingers spread over both hands and, from the sounds he was making, really pissed off. The zombie was mostly naked, revealing all sorts of bruises and discolorations. I wondered who had the lucky job of undressing him.
I could feel several more zombies behind a chained and padlocked metal door. An infected adolescent boy clawed at the bars of his cage from across the room, staring hungrily at us. His urgent groans made me want to put him out of his misery. Small and scrawny, the infected kid was stuck in a permanent state of agony.
I imagined myself using my power to drop the infected man behind the glass case, just to see what the scientists made of it. They’d no doubt take credit, thinking it was something they’d done to make a zombie pass out for an hour or so.
Creeping up behind Kyle, I poked him in the back. “What are they trying to accomplish?”
A nerdy woman in a white lab coat glanced at me with an irritated look and answered for him. “We’re trying to figure out if snake venom has any effect on the dead.”
Another “scientist” entered the room carrying a crate with tiny holes poked in it. This was turning out to be interesting. Lab coat number two unlatched the crate and climbed up a ladder to throw it into the zombie’s playpen from up above. I watched intently as absolutely nothing happened for what seemed like minutes.
“So, you’re testing the infected’s resistance to empty boxes?” I joked lightheartedly, trying to alleviate the boredom of nothing happening. That jest got an unenthusiastic grunt from the male scientist and a disgusted look from the female. Glad they managed to maintain some levity. Or not, as the case was.
The crate finally began to wobble slightly and a snake peeked its head out slowly. The zombie seemed indifferent to the snake’s presence, but it had definitely noticed it. Both lab coats were furiously taking notes as the snake crept closer to the zombie. I wondered what the heck they could be writing down. I imagined it was something like this:
The snake hissed
The zombie groaned
The snake slithered
The zombie stared blankly
Exciting stuff. Sign me up for Zombie 101.
Of course the zombie didn’t care about the snake. Everyone knew the infected didn’t eat coldblooded creatures. Throw a raccoon in there and we’d be seeing something.
“What kinda snake is that?” Zeke asked quietly, and I noticed there was fear in his eyes when he looked at the zombie.
“Crotalus Viridis,” responded the male scientist.
“The hell is that?” questioned Zeke a little louder.
“Prairie rattlesnake,” scoffed the scientist. Yeah, because everyone knows the Latin name, dork. Did the science geek really expect a little kid to study taxonomy? Science had never been my favorite subject in school, but if science fiction were taught, I’d have aced every test. Little did I know back then all this would happen, taking some of the fiction out of science fiction.
The snake sauntered over to the zombie and started shaking its rattle in warning. The infected male glanced down momentarily, distracted by the noise, and looked back at us with a famished expression. All snapping jaws and grunts with this one. The rattlesnake lunged at the zombie and bit his leg. It retreated back and swayed its rattle a little bit, judging its opponent. The zombie was unaffected by the bite and continued to fight the chains and snap at us. The snake bit him again and again, but the zombie showed no signs of feeling it.
“Now the waiting game,” mused Kyle.
“The typical time it takes for a rattlesnake bite to take effect is generally twenty to thirty minutes, but considering the amount of bites, that should rapidly accelerate the process,” the female scientist remarked while making notes.
I imagined her writing: The Crotalus Viridis bit the Manus Zombis seven times
These people needed a life outside the lab.
Again, I imagined dropping the zombie to see the exhilarated reactions of the geeks, thinking they’d done it with their snake venom experiment. I didn’t actually do it, even I wasn’t that messed up. Now, if it were Riley and Alexi I was playing a trick on, well. . . .
We stood there watching, waiting while the snake abandoned the fight and retreated back into its crate. After thirty minutes the zombie showed no signs of relenting. I wouldn’t have guessed it would show effects of being poisoned. Zombies don’t have blood coursing through their veins because they’re dead. Without the heart pumping the venom through the body and running rampant through the nervous system, there was never going to be a reaction. What a complete waste of time.
“This is lame!” Zeke declared and I wholeheartedly agreed.
The three of us left the laboratory and made our way to the chapel to discuss the upcoming wedding. The pastor, a slight man with a receding dirty blonde hairline, was conversing with a middle-aged woman next to the altar. She was whispering and tears were rolling down her cheeks. The familiarity of that look made me shiver. That was the look of soul-wrenching grief. She spotted us and scurried out the back door. The pastor shot a concerned expression her way and gestured us toward him.
“Hello, children, how can I help you?” he queried. The man had a kind face, but his eyes couldn’t hide a deep sadness.
“We were hoping to discuss marriage,” answered Kyle hesitantly, uncomfortable with the scene we’d walked in on.
“We want to get married and were wondering what steps were needed to do that,” I added more confidently.
“Ah, that’s good, happy tidings for once. My name is Pastor Dan, please have a seat.” He gestured to the nearest pew and we sat down. Kyle reached out to hold my hand and I squeezed his in return. “Well, firstly, you need to really examine this decision and make sure it’s the right thing for you. There isn’t any reason to rush into this, correct?” he asked while looking at my stomach. Some nerve this holy man had. Little did he know, getting alone time with my fiancé wasn’t easy.
“No, I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you’re asking. We’ve been together a long time and this is a well thought out decision.” God, when I put it that way it sounded more like a business transaction. I hastily added, “We love each other very much.”
“Excellent! There are usually required meetings and counseling to make sure you’re both prepared for the holy and beautiful act of matrimony. Seeing as you don’t live here, and every day could be your last, I’d be happy to marry you right now,” the pastor suggested.
“Um, that sounds good and all, but our family isn’t with us and we have some friends who live up in the mountains to invite,” I told him. “We were hoping to set a date next month to give our friends enough time to plan for the trip here.”
“No need to set a date. I have lots of time to fill. You’d be surprised how many people have already forgotten about God,” Pastor Dan confided sorrowfully. I hadn’t forgotten God myself, just questioned what the hell he was thinking. Maybe he was on hiatus.
While we were talking with Pastor Dan, Zeke had sneaked onto the altar and was fidgeting with the cross. At that point, he began throwing it into the air and catching it. The Pastor saw, a scandalized look crossed his face, and he turned to run up the stairs in an attempt catch it.
“Do you have no respect, son?” he asked a confused Zeke, snatching the cross out of his little hands.
“Respect for what? I was just playing with that wooden thing.” Zeke retorted angrily. I wasn’t sure if he was serious or just messing with the pastor.
“That wooden thing is a cross. It’s a symbol of Jesus’ love for you,” lectured Pastor Dan indignantly. “Tell me you’ve been baptized, child.”
“Not sure what the means, Dan,” Zeke barked at the
“It means you’ve been cloaked in the loving embrace of God as one of his children,” replied a flustered Pastor Dan. “It enables you to have a deep and personal relationship with the Lord.”
“Well, me and God ain’t on the best of terms, if you know what I mean,” Zeke said proudly. “So, our relationship ain’t so friendly.”
Jumping up, I grabbed Zeke’s shoulder and gave Pastor Dan an apologetic smile. “He’s a work in progress, I’m afraid.”
“I’m available for baptisms anytime, also. Talk with the little one and perhaps I could perform both ceremonies on the same day,” he offered amiably, all signs of earlier antagonism gone.
Kyle and I took that as our cue to leave. “Thanks, Pastor Dan, we’ll see you soon,” Kyle said in parting as I dragged Zeke out the door.
We met the rest of the family at the town’s main general store and tavern, where they were stocking up on biodiesel and eating lunch. Grabbing a few fries from Riley’s plate, I slouched down next to Melanie. I reached for the last piece of pizza, but was thwarted by a ninja-like Zeke. A burly lady with a gimp brought us some sandwiches and my family resumed our noisy conversation about what else to trade for. After getting requests from everyone, my dad assured us he’d get what he could. I wasn’t worried, if not from here, we’d get it somewhere.
One of the great things about our house was the fully stocked wine cellar that came with it. We found hundreds of vintages that soon became our most valuable bartering chips. The town’s seemingly unlimited supply of biodiesel was more than a fair trade for the wine we’d probably never drink. For a long time we used fuel stabilizers in regular unleaded gas for our cars, but when the cars began to perform inconsistently we were forced to find another way to get around. After our first visit to Fort Collins we scoured the mountains for cars with diesel engines and eventually found enough to get by. A few months later, we commissioned the scientists and engineers at Fort Collins to build us a biodiesel generator for our home. Adding that to the existing solar panels created a nearly endless supply of power.
The great thing about Fort Collins was their reluctance to scavenge for supplies. They often relied on small groups like ours to bring in goods to trade. They produced much of what they needed themselves and got the rest through trading. We were perhaps their best trading partners, what with the large amount of items we were able to bring in. No one I knew of had my ability to drop the dead and I pitied the scavengers who had to do it the hard way.
While walking through the aisles of supplies, I found a new knife sharpener for my tomahawk and a healthy looking strawberry plant. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten a strawberry and had to have it. We’d have to try planting strawberries again. I turned the corner to find my father and discovered Riley making out with some boy. Her hands were in his back pockets and he was holding onto her hips with a death grip. Such amateurs. I thought to myself, who am I to stop her? That was, until he went for the boob. Big sister alert! Sure, mine wasn’t as honed as it could be, but it wasn’t totally busted.
“Hey now, that’s enough of that! Who’s your friend, Riley? You guys seem close.” I commented suspiciously. I had the power here. There was no way she wanted me to tell dad about this.
“Oh hey, Anya, this is, uh, my friend, uh,” she stammered with a serious blush, but in her sweetest sisterly voice.
“Nolan,” he supplied for her. He put his hand out to shake, the one that went for boob, and I had no choice but to leave him hanging. I thought I remembered him from a visit awhile back. He looked taller now, though he was about the same age as my sister.
“Nice to meet you, Nolan,” I choked out as politely as I could manage. “Hey, Riley, dad’s looking for us.”
Begrudgingly, my idiot sister followed me to where everyone was waiting and we tallied the rest of our merchandise. Dad handed over various items, including around twenty bottles of wine and several packs of batteries. Riley made a special effort to keep my dad from talking to me. I owned her for the time being. We loaded the supplies into our vehicles, taking extra care to protect my new plant.
My dad gathered us all together afterward at the back of the trailer. “Alright guys, I’m making a stop at Doug and Jill’s. Who wants to come along?” Nobody really seemed that interested in going.
“I’ll go,” I told him, figuring I should be the one to invite them to my wedding.
Suddenly Riley seemed a helluva lot more interested in going herself. Smiling sugar sweet at our father, she said, “Me too, daddy.” Anything to keep me from telling dad about her little make out session with some random boy.
Kyle, who was going to be riding with Justin and Alexi in the truck, came to kiss me goodbye. First he pulled me into his arms, squeezing me. “Be careful.”
“You too.” I murmured against his lips. “Take it easy on that leg.”
He smiled in answer and walked over to the truck’s passenger side. Justin was already behind the wheel, engine running. Viktor was driving the Suburban again, with Melanie up front and Paulina and Zeke in the back. The kid looked exhausted and would probably nap the whole way home, lucky for them.
The three of us were taking the Jeep. Riley made sure she grabbed the front seat, which was rightfully mine as the older sibling. Before we could leave, the sentries had to dispose of the zombies near the moat. It seemed some of the zombies were learning not to fall into the pit now. We were waiting in line behind the truck and Suburban. I wanted to see what was holding us up.
“Be right back!” Hopping out of the Jeep, I walked up the stairs of the watchtower to check it out. A stocky young man grabbed a huge deep-sea fishing pole and attached a porterhouse to its hook. He cast and began reeling the meat toward the spiked moat. When it was dangling over, he stopped and swung it back and forth in enticement. Another angler was preparing his line for the same procedure. The zombies faithfully leapt to their doom, except for one. An infected, a ratty-haired brunette wearing a mangy CSU sweatshirt, was lucky enough to take the steak, pole and all, with her into the ditch.
The fisherman fell victim to one of the classic blunders: Never go in against a zombie when fresh meat is on the line.
“Holy shit! I think that chick was in my Economics class!” the young man said in amazement.
Huh, small world.
I left the cursing sentry and returned to the Jeep. The impaled zombie was devouring the raw steak as we drove past. I thought it was a waste to lose the meat to the biter, but I suppose it wasn’t intended he should actually get it. The people of Fort Collins were always trying new things in the name of progress.
We drove away from the college, taking the clearest route. Weaving around abandoned cars, we caught the attention of a few roving infected. We left town with a wake of zombies following us slowly, determined despite the impossibility of catching up.
Leaning forward in my seat, I pointed out to Riley and my dad a horde of about twenty who were approaching town across an open field. “Gross!” Riley blurted. “That one is naked!” She was right. There was a female at the front of the pack in her birthday suit. I wondered what the boys in the vehicles in front of us thought about that. Paulina was probably covering Zeke’s eyes, wishing she could do the same to Justin and Alexi.
I had the urge to kill the female infected just to save her the shame. Her hair and body was covered in dirt and God knows what else. Wherever her soul was, she’d be cringing at the sight. As a family we’d discussed the theological and metaphysical quite often in the beginning. None of us wanted to believe the soul was trapped inside the infected body upon reanimation. Our mother had been bit and turned two days later. Before Viktor was forced to kill Svetlana Donovan, her infected body went after Alexi. No, my mother’s kind soul left this world for another. It was a comfort to us, and others in our group, to think our loved ones passed on to a better place.
The infected horde changed course when they spotted our vehicles. Now moving with purpose, they v
Eventually, we parted ways with the Suburban and truck. Dad had grabbed his Bob Dylan CD from the truck and insisted upon torturing us by singing along to every song. Even his off-key rendition of “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” couldn’t detract from the wild beauty of the passing scenery. A little two-lane highway running along a stream led us through the mountains. This area seemed untouched by the plague and the picturesque backdrop could almost fool a person into hoping for an end to the threat.
Unable to wait until we got there, Riley made dad pull over so she could empty her bladder. Naturally, she screamed while she was off in the woods. I hadn’t felt any of the dead, so I slowly got out of the Jeep but my Dad rushed to save her. The skunk she’d come across was already waddling away from the hysterical girl. Oh, how it would’ve made my day if she’d been sprayed. I stole the front seat and the rest of the drive was fairly uneventful.
We pulled into Walden in the early evening and strangely there was a zombie population in town, which was all but unheard of here. That was its appeal to the Evans family. They were the only other family unit we were close friends with and twice a year we’d visit them. Isolated, highly elevated and where Doug Evans grew up, Walden would be the perfect place to live indefinitely if we weren’t already settled in our cabin. We’d first met them four years ago when we’d stopped at a forest ranger station and found them already emptying it of its supplies.
As we neared the firehouse where the Evans family made its home, we were shocked to see the firehouse door open with a couple zombies lingering inside. My dad sped up and pulled into the driveway, screeching to a halt.
“Anya, do it,” he ordered.
I put out the zombies within moments. Given the size of Walden, no doubt these were the only biters in town. We walked guns in hand, even Riley, into the firehouse. First thing first, my dad used a machete to permanently put out the infected. We searched for signs of the Evans. There were things knocked over and dresser drawers left hanging. In the kitchen there was a pot of sludgy spoiled soup on the stove. A note on the fridge with a bold LEVI on top was dated two weeks ago.
In case you stop by, don’t worry. We were overrun by a horde. All safe and going into the mountains until the infected clear out. We’ll check back in a few weeks. –Doug
The zombies we just killed must’ve been stragglers who hadn’t clear out with the rest of the horde when it moved on. “Well at least they’re safe,” I offered my upset father. The Evans had a backup holdout less than an hour away but we weren’t sure of the exact location, never having been there.
“That’s true, but let’s do them a favor and get rid of these corpses so the girls don’t have to see them when they get home.” My dad meant the Evans’ young daughters, Madison and Kayla, who were thirteen and eleven.
The removal and relocation took my dad half an hour and it gave me an opportunity to clean up the firehouse for them a bit. Everybody liked coming home to a clean house. My dad loaded the corpses onto a large blue tarp and connected it to the back of the Jeep, dragging the bodies down the street. When he disappeared from sight, I blackmailed Riley into helping me with the housework.
My dad returned, tarp-less and corpse-less awhile later. “All done! Let’s go!” he called out the window after pulling up in front of the firehouse and honking his horn. I shut the firehouse door behind us, thinking the Evans must have been in quite the hurry to get out of there if they’d left this open.
“Finally!” whined Riley. “You know, I’m happy they weren’t here. Madison and Kayla are so boring. They still collect dolls.” Riley snickered as if that were the most pathetic thing she’d ever heard.
Fed up with her self-centered, snobbish attitude, I said while getting back into the front seat, “Hey, dad, guess what?”
“What?” he played along good-naturedly.
“I saw Riley making out with some boy back in Fort Collins,” I tattled then added for good measure, “he was getting handsy.”
“You bitch!” Riley screeched from the backseat.