Chapter Three

 

 

 

 

 

Hemp had pulled out some of the CDC maps he’d gotten from Max Romero, and while they were excellent and told me where we’d run into hills and various other terrain, they weren’t tight enough for us to determine where to navigate around any road blockages.

As a backup, we’d nabbed a 2012 Rand McNally road atlas that I didn’t figure had changed much since the zombie apocalypse. Not yet, anyway. I’m pretty damned sure that as the years pass, some of the bridges on a lot of these maps will just crumble and fall. They sure don’t build shit like they used to.

Thought I’d never peruse a road atlas again after the advent of the automobile GPS. Easy come, easy go. What’d we get to use it for, anyway? Like twelve years?

“You’ll drive along this road here out of town,” he said.

“I can get that far, Hemp,” I said. “I’ve left town before, you know.”

Hemp laughed. “Sorry, Flex. Just being my usual thorough self.” He ran his finger along the main road out of Whitmire and I saw then that he had a yellow highlighter in his hand. He found every place where multiple roads would lead us to the same place and highlighted the alternate routes.

“Good job,” I said. “Should get me around any problems we run into.”

There was a knock on the door, and it opened. Tony came in wearing a leather jacket and leather pants.

“Hey, buddy, we’re not takin’ bikes,” I said. “We’re takin’ the Land Cruiser like I said.”

“Too hot?” he asked, the heavy crow’s feet on the sides of his eyes scrunching. “Repels bites. I’m wearing regular pants underneath. These are oversized.” He pulled at the loose leather.

I shrugged. “It’s up to you, dude, but your balls are gonna be one sweaty mess.”

Tony looked doubtful for a moment. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ll take ‘em off, but can I leave ‘em here? I don’t wanna go all the way back home.”

“You ride your bike?”

“Yeah. The wind is really picking up out there, Flex.”

“I know. Makes me wish we still had satellite. Either way, we gotta go. Pull the bike back into the garage and just change in there. Come here first.”

Tony walked over to the table with the maps spread out. He looked into the living room where Bug was on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. Tony looked at us and tipped his head to the stranger. “Who’s that? Hired help?”

“That’s right,” I said. “You haven’t met the new arrivals yet.”

Bug looked up. “Hey, man. Name’s Bug.”

“Like a bug you squash?” asked Tony, smiling. He walked over pulling off his gloves and held out his hand. “Tony Mallette.”

Bug waved him off. “Bleach, buddy. We got a little germ problem, which is why you’re going with Flex.”

“Okay, we’ll shake later,” said Tony. He looked around nervously and I noticed him pull his gloves back on.

Tony was a germaphobe. His expression was dead serious as he turned back toward us. When Tony got a serious expression, it always looked like he was on the verge of whipping out a firearm and threatening everyone in the room, but not actually shooting them.

“What’s goin’ on, guys. You can tell me.”

Hemp laughed as he stared back at Tony. I liked it when Hemp laughed, especially when the mood was tense.

I knew Hemp, who had basically been a child prodigy with mechanics and could master anything he set his mind to, was often mesmerized by Tony because of his gravelly voice, his Long Island accent and his need to be told something five times before it really sank in.

It’s not that Tony’s a dense guy, because he’s not. When he sets his mind to something – learning something, that is – he’ll dedicate himself to mastering the task, and he won’t stop until he’s better than anyone else – or at least until he thinks he’s better.

I think he just has a bad case of Attention Deficit Disorder. He’ll ask you a question and instantly let his mind wander while you give him the answer.

Yep. Tony sees shiny things that draw his attention away. A lot. Worse still, he laughs about it.

But holy shit, if Tony thinks he knows something and you fuck up doing that thing in front of him, hold on to your ass. He’ll tell you that you rushed it, or you didn’t try, or that you need to slow down, or some crap.

Good thing is, he’s okay with being told to shut the fuck up, just so long as he likes you. And he likes me, so he’ll work out fine as a partner on this trip. Great, in fact.

“Of course we’ll tell you,” said Hemp. “You’re going with Flex to retrieve what we need.”

Gem walked in from the hallway with Charlie behind her.

“You know how when you were a kid and your mom tied a balloon to your belt loop so you didn’t lose it?” asked Gem.

Tony gave her a quick hug. “Hey, Gem.”

“Hey, Tony,” she said, squeezing him back.

“Yeah?” I asked. “What’s a balloon tied to your pants got to do with anything?”

“It’s what I feel like when Charlie’s walking too close behind me.”

We all shook our heads, and Charlie, who didn’t look very jovial, couldn’t help a smile. She swatted at Gem, who swatted her back.

“I can see you’re worried,” said Gem. “I’m trying to lighten the mood.”

Hemp left the map and turned to put his hands on her shoulders. “Charlie, what are you concerned about?”

Charlie folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t know,” she said. “Everything. I’ve got questions, but I don’t want to ask them because I don’t want to know the answer.”

“Ask,” said Hemp. “Otherwise you’ll never learn the answers. You might like them.”

“Okay,” said Charlie, her hair now shoulder-length and curling more than ever. “The baby. Our baby. Can our baby be affected by this stuff? The Diphtheria? Inside me?”

“Charlie, you’ve been vaccinated, so I’m not worried about you or the baby. But you’re due any day, and if he or she is born before we address this, you’ll need to go stay with Dave and Serena or something. Or in the lab.”

She looked more worried. “Hemp,” she said.

“I know. But don’t worry. Flex will be back soon, and we’ll be okay.”

“I’ll never get back if we don’t get movin’,” I said. “Tony, let’s put the rack on the back of the car. We’re takin’ enough fuel to get us as far as we need to go.”

“Got it,” said Tony.

“Hemp, go ahead and get the maps dialed in, highlighted, whatever,” I said. “I’m packin’ my stuff and we’re getting’ the car ready. I wanna be on the road in an hour at most.”

“Maps are marked and ready, Flex,” said Hemp. “Gem, you can help him if you like. I’ll keep an eye on the little one.”

“Thanks, Hemp,” she said. “Babe, I’ll go get some clothes and ammunition for the AK and your Daewoo. Tony, what guns do you have?”

“I have the MP3, like Hemp’s.”

“Okay. I’ll pack ammo for everything, including your handguns.”

“Don’t forget water,” said Tony.

“I won’t,” said Gem, smiling.

 

*****

 

In just over an hour we were ready. We tested the winch and topped off the tank from our large supply. There was more gas in town than we had a right to hope for, and the Piggly Wiggly store had plenty of food stock. Combined with the convenience stores, we wouldn’t starve.

We’d killed a good number of walking dead around the town proper, but even then, it was probably less than 300. There were clearly plenty of them shut inside the scattered homes in the rural town.

As for the survivors in Whitmire, as I said when I started this, just under 150 people wouldn’t have turned into rotters, but we’d only met a small number. We’d found one group of five living in a house near the gas station, but they mainly wanted to know if we knew what it was like in other places. We let ‘em know that they were better off where they were. They had wells and a nearby river for fresh water if the bottled stuff ran out, and restaurants had the large, commercial cans of vegetables and soups, so food was plentiful for now. We recommended they grow their own, as we intended to do.

They didn’t ask if they could join us. I’m glad of that. We have too hard a time sayin’ no, and our family seemed to be growing fast enough under its own power. We did give them one of our radios and told them where they could find us if they needed to. So far they hadn’t called.

As we were buttoning down the car, Hemp looked at the sky. “I’m worried about this weather, Flex,” he said.

“Just a storm, right?”

“The gusts are strong. I’d say forty miles per hour, now,” he said. “This is a state on the east coast, Flex. This could be a hurricane blowing in.”

“Shit,” I said. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”

“Be careful, friend,” he said. “If you get hit with heavy, driving rain, it could be the outer bands of a large storm. There haven’t been any in a while. We may be due.”

“Nothin’ to be done about it, buddy,” I said. “I need that elixir, and I’m gonna go get it. Got that list?”

“It’s in the car with the map. I’ve written down everything that might be on the label, so just read it carefully. All the immunizations necessary are listed, as well as the antitoxin.”

“So how far from my first stop to my last resort at Beaufort Naval Hospital?”

“It’s just under 80 miles to the North Carolina hospital, which should have what we need. If that fails, you’ve got a 233 mile drive on your hands.”

I looked in the back of the Land Cruiser. “Looks like Gem packed enough shit for a month. We’ll be good,” I said.

“Ready?” asked Tony.

“Yep. Go on,” I said.

Tony got in the car and rolled down the window.

Gem walked up to me and wrapped her arms around my waist, resting her head on my chest. I held her and said, “Don’t worry, babe. If everything goes as planned, we’ll be back in six or seven hours.”

Gem looked up at me. “Nothing ever goes as planned, and you know it.”

“Have faith, Gem. I’ve never been more determined.”

“I’d feel better if I were sitting where Tony is.”

“Our boy needs you.”

“He needs you, too.”

I smiled and squeezed her again. “Gem, he’ll have me. Just as soon as I get that juice.”

We kissed, and she reluctantly let me go. “Hurry home.”

I shook Hemp’s hand and threw Bug a wave. He sat on the porch with Isis in his lap, and he waved back, nodding his head. I knew he was counting on us, too.

We pulled away. I could feel the wind buffeting the SUV even as we reached the one mile mark.

 

*****

 

I hung a right on Dogwalla Road and pressed the gas down. Tony had his window down and fired well-placed rounds into the heads of several walkers who, without variation, were moving toward our tiny outpost.

“Tony, get on the radio and just let ‘em know they’re going to have more company,” I said. “I’d say if they can set up some sort of urushiol fence barrier, even if it’s not that great, they should do it. At least around the entrances to the house.”

“Yeah, even a 2-wire fence coated with urushiol will be better than nothing,” said Tony. “Like chest height.”

We were still close enough to our home base for the simple handheld radios to work, and Hemp was on the handheld and updated within two minutes. Tony put the radio back down, leaving it powered on.

“I’m gonna AK some of these bastards,” said Tony. He quickly grabbed for the map and followed the highlight. “Turn right here, Flex. It looks like it changes names once or twice, but it’s the one we take all the way to Highway 72.”

“Tyger River Road it is,” I said, turning the wheel, then swerved around an overturned semi truck that was now just a black lump of charred, melted metal, plastic and rubber. Several crashed cars around it were blackened as well, and despite the destruction, I wondered how many hungry things that we simultaneously hated and feared had walked or crawled away from the devastation.

“Hey, Tony,” I said. “How about a granola bar, buddy?” I asked him.

“I got some of Isis’ beef jerky,” said Tony, smiling. “Want some?”

“Does sound better,” I said. “Sure.”

Tony dug around in his pocket and withdrew a bag. “Here you go, man.”

I took the jerky and took a bite, even as I steered the Toyota around two cars that were parked cattycorner in the street, front bumper to front bumper, with the hoods up and all the doors wide open. I didn’t know what had happened, but whatever it was hadn’t been good. There were still jumper cables running between the batteries, but nobody was in sight. Perhaps the good Samaritan had eaten the driver in distress, but it could have been the other way around.

Either way, both parties had become extremely distracted from the task that had started out so everyday and mundane.

“Shit. “Better stop, Flexy.”

A bridge lay ahead, just spanning a narrow ravine with a fast-moving but small river, about twelve feet below. I guessed this was the Tyger River from which the road took its name.

We’d gotten five or six feet over the chasm when the vehicle blockage was complete. It was like a mechanical puzzle, and we sat inside for a few moments, talking about which cars would have to be winched out of the way in order to clear a path.

“How the fuck did they bottleneck this bad in an area where there’s no goddamned people?” asked Tony.

“Good question,” I answered. “The way it’s done … I don’t know. They look like they were placed here.”

“But why?” asked Tony. “And if so, are the people who did it behind us or on the other side of it?”

“Either way we gotta get to the other side,” I said, pointing north. “So how’s about we work our way in. We pull that yellow Kia Soul out first. I can fit in there, and then we’ll winch that silver SUV back a ways and I might be able to use the cow catcher to push it one way or the other.”

“That thing’s handy,” said Tony, opening his door. He got out, reached in and grabbed a long range, plastic squirt gun filled with the urushiol blend, shook it and slid it into a drop holster on his right leg. He then reached in and took the MP3 from inside the Land Cruiser’s cockpit.

“Disengage the winch,” said Tony, closing the door as he walked toward the Kia.

I watched as he pulled the cable from the front of my Toyota and got on his knees. He located the tow hooks underneath the bumper of the Kia and hooked it on to the one on the left. Tony grunted back to his feet and went to the Kia’s driver side door. He dropped into the seat, did something, and got back out. He waved at me, giving me one thumb up.

I engaged the winch, and held my foot hard on the brake as the tread on my larger, heavier SUV gripped the road. The Kia’s flat tires slid along the asphalt, but did not roll.

Tony trotted to my door and I rolled down the window. “Parking brake was on, so I took that off. No keys in it, though, and it was an automatic, so I couldn’t take it out of gear.”

“Most of ‘em are bound to have keys,” I said. “If you can, just put ‘em in neutral. It’ll make it easier to move ‘em.”

“I know that, buddy,” said Tony, smiling. I figured he was close to fifty years old, and I guessed that all the teeth in his mouth were caps; possibly even implants. They were as perfect and consistent in size as any teeth that had ever been part of any smile.

Right now, Tony Mallette was smiling a sarcastic smile that said, I’ve been taking cars out of gear since you were pissing your diaper, punk.

That might be true, but sometimes I state the obvious for those to whom I feel the obvious may be a stranger. I’ve met a few people in my life who did very little reasoning on their own, and while I don’t consider Tony to be in that category, my old habits die as hard as zombies do.

After the Kia was out of the way, Tony unhooked the cable and moved up to the SUV. This time he went right to it and looked through the window at the interior.

He looked back at me and threw his hands up. My window was still down, so I heard him yell, “No keys here either!”

I put the car in park and cut the engine. I grabbed my K7 and got out, walking to where Tony stood holding the winch hook in his right hand, his MP3 in his left.

“Weird,” I said. I walked to a red PT Cruiser butted up against a yellow VW Beetle. Doors were locked on both cars, and looking through the window revealed no zombies inside and no car keys in the ignition. I walked back to Tony, who had just checked what looked like a 1968 Camaro.

“No keys in there, either,” he said.

“These two are the same,” I said, pointing at the Bug and Cruiser.

“Which means this is a blockade,” said Tony. “Think someone’s watching us now?”

“I’m guessin’ so,” I said. I raised my hands, still holding my gun, and turned all around, staring into the thin, tall trees around us. Something caught my eye just west of the bridge, and I lowered my arms and went to the edge to peer down at the water.

Tony came up beside me. “Caution. Zombie Xing,” he whispered. “Wonder if there’s a sign down there.”

As we watched, a line of creatures moved from a muddy trail on the northwest bank into the water. The river was not fast-flowing and the flesh-hungry, former humans staggered in, almost in a single-file line, without hesitation.

It was obviously not very deep, as even when they reached the center of the perhaps 80’ wide waterway, they were still visible from the waist up. Still, they fought the current that did exist, and it was enough to direct them underneath the bridge as they made their trek across, making their final exit point the southeast bank on the opposite side of the bridge.

It was then that I spotted her.

A red-eye.

As my eyes met hers, she was already staring up at me. I could see their bright, red glow from the 75’ or so distance, and before raising my weapon I poked Tony.

I said nothing. I was afraid to look away for fear she would disappear. With Isis and Lola at our home, I would not leave her alive.

“On three, Tony. Empty your magazine and take her down.”

“Got it, Flex,” he whispered.

“One. Two. Three.” We both raised our weapons quickly and aimed true.

As the rounds reached her and pierced her head and body, she jerked like a wind-up toy at double speed; it was as though her head and shoulders exploded from the rest of her as each round was directed toward her relatively small kill zone. She was literally split in two, the trunk portion almost intact as it dropped and sank into the soft mud.

The moment she went down, the zombies in the river ceased their forward trek. They milled around as though unsure where to go, no longer on a mission, but wandering again. Just wandering. Looking for something to draw them toward it.

“Flex, we gotta take these guys out, man,” said Tony. “All of ‘em. If we don’t, they might head toward your place.”

Tony was right. “I agree,” I said. “I’ll go to the north end and start there. You go to the south side and clear ‘em. We’ll meet back up here when we’ve got them all.”

We had plenty of urushiol, and Tony had his super soaker at ready. I decided to preserve the ammunition, too.

There were a lot of children in this group – something that always tore me up inside. Just kids living their lives, coloring in coloring books, playin’ video games, jumpin’ rope. I sprayed each one of ‘em and turned away as they deteriorated mid-shamble, melting into the brown water and drifting away with their adult counterparts. The residue from their bodies would wash up on the banks of this river until entirely disbursed, and then they would be nothing.

From men, women and children, to forever hungry, mindless predators, to a sticky, smelly film on the banks of a river. Then nothing.

What a fucked up way to leave lives, that in most cases, were nowhere near finished.

By the time we were done, there was no more zombie caravan. Not on that road, anyway.

 

*****

 

We were self-conscious as we moved the remaining seven cars necessary to clear the bridge. Someone had put the cars there, and based on the direction of the zombie traffic, which had clearly circumvented the roadblock by walking through the water, it seemed most likely that the responsible party lived on the south side of the bridge.

Tony asked a good question about a mile past the bridge, now back on the road.

“Flex, I’m not so sure that whoever blocked that bridge was on the south side.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Well, first off the red-eye was there, so we don’t really know if Isis and Lola had anything to do with drawing them this time. Might have just been her.”

“Good point, Tony,” I said. “But Bug told us the red-eyes are drawn to both Lola and the baby. Lola, for the most part, because she can call ‘em, and Isis just because.”

“So, that means there’s still a possibility that whoever blocked that bridge is ahead,” said Tony. “That’s all I was really getting at.”

I turned to look at Tony and had turned to look back just a second later, and I felt my face flush hot. A line of people with guns stepped into the road about 100 yards ahead of us. Apparently my facial expression changed dramatically, because Tony turned his head to follow my gaze. I slowed the SUV to a crawl.

“Holy fuck, buddy,” he said, reaching up for the AK firing handle. “Want me to take ‘em out?”

I shook my head quickly. “They’re not zombies, brother. They’re alive,” I said. “They deserve a conversation first, I think. So I’m gonna explain us past this, if you don’t mind. They’re not shootin’ and they see our firepower, I assume, so maybe they’re reasonable.”

“Okay, Flex, but it’s not like we can just spray them with urushiol if they try some shit.”

“I know,” I said. “Just turn the AK off to the side for now so they know we’re not threatening. But keep your eye on ‘em. If I suddenly dive to the ground, spin that gun around and go at it.”

Tony said, “Okay, Flex,” and took a deep breath. “It’s kind of a relief I don’t need a head shot to take ‘em down.”

I’d never killed a living person, so Tony’s words really hit me. I’d just said it myself, but they were living people.

I continued to ease the car forward so I could better see their individual faces to gauge their intensity. I idled the car to a stop ten feet back from the line of what looked like eight women and six men. There were lots of overalls and jeans involved. Some boots, too. Off to the left, I saw several horses.

I put the Land Cruiser in park. Tony kept one hand on the pull trigger and remained in his seat while I got out of the car.

I opened my door and swung a leg out, standing up. I stepped away from the car, my Daewoo held tightly, but raised over my head in one hand. The barrel was pointed away from them.

A woman stepped from behind the line to the front where I could see her clearly. “Put the gun down,” she said, as I approached.

I stopped, turned to look at Tony. With a hand motion, I told him everything was okay, and to relax. He nodded back.

I put my K7 on the ground as I prepared to tell them why I didn’t have time to have a conversation or stay for coffee.

I hoped the woman would understand the importance of my mission. She had good reason to.

She was pregnant.

 

*****

 

“When are you due?” I asked, walking slowly forward and stopping about three feet away from her.

The woman studied me. She held what appeared to be an Uzi similar to Gem’s, but slightly older. She had pure, red hair in a pony tail, and she stood at least six feet tall. Her face was red from sunburn, and her eyes were green and alert. She wore a white tank top and jeans. Her arms and all other exposed skin was tattoo-free. She appeared to be in her late twenties.

“Why’d you fuck with our bridge?” she asked.

“Why do you think?” I asked, waving my arm at the car. “We needed to get across.”

“You could’ve walked around. Through the river.”

“That’s what the things you’re tryin’ to block are doin’, so what good is your barricade?” I asked.

“It slows them down,” she said.

“They’re not coming toward you,” I said.

“Why is that?” she asked.

“May I ask your name?” I said. “I’m Flex Sheridan. The guy in the car is Tony Mallette.”

“I’m Cara Blake,” she said. “Three of the guys you see here are my brothers, and two are my sisters.”

“You guys are just like the fuckin’ Brady Bunch.”

Despite her obvious apprehension, she smiled. “Three and three. Just like mama wanted, but I’m no Marsha and I sure as hell ain’t Jan.”

I nodded toward her stomach. “Lookin’ at your condition, I’d say someone isn’t your brother,” I said. It was my turn to smile.

“You’re very observant,” said Cara. “I’m seven months, or thereabouts. Haven’t seen a doctor, but I’m pretty sure.”

“You notice any pink farts or belches?” I asked.

“What?”

“I know it sounds like a crazy question, but I said what it sounded like, Cara. Pink belches and farts are bad news. Any of that? Real bad cramps or anything?”

She shook her head. “We know the pink vapor. The eye stuff.”

I nodded. “Knockout stuff. Let me warn you right now. If you see one of the female walkers with red eyes – they’re much brighter when they’ve eaten recently – stay clear of their vapor.”

“Why? Is it different?”

“It is,” I said. “We’ve seen the effects of a pregnant female getting sprayed, even if she carries a healthy baby.”

“And what are the effects?”

“The mother rants a lot and the baby becomes a beacon, once born.”

Cara lowered her weapon and looked back at me in confusion. “What do you mean by a beacon?”

“I mean when she’s born, the red-eyes will be drawn to her. That means they’ll be drawn to you. Your group.”

The girl looked at her tribe mates and then back at me. “Where are you coming from?”

I didn’t want to say. My family was in Whitmire, and I didn’t know these people. “About a two day drive from here,” I lied.

“Where are you headed?”

“Somewhere to get something that will help you,” I said. “Something you need desperately.”

Her expression grew confused. “And what is that?” she asked.

“Childhood immunizations,” I said. “And something you need even more. An antitoxin.”

Her face grew concerned now. “An antitoxin for what? Snakebite?”

“Why? Have you been bitten by a snake?” I asked.

“No, no,” she said. “You said antitoxin, that’s the first thing I think of.”

“I think you mean anti-venom,” yelled Tony from behind me. I realized he had his window open.

“The antitoxin is for Diphtheria,” I said.

“What’s that?” she asked.

I was taken aback. “Let’s just say it can kill your kid and anyone else who hasn’t been immunized,” I said. “If you’ve already been exposed, the antitoxin will get rid of it.”

“You got any kids that were exposed?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I do. My son Flex Jr. Our friends’ baby, Isis, and another woman in our group, Charlie, is pregnant.”

“A girl named Charlie?”

“A helluva girl named Charlie,” I said. “Cara, I’m so sorry about your bridge, but we have to go. I have somewhere between one to four days, and I don’t know where it falls. My boy’s just around two months old now, and I have to get the antitoxin for him.”

“They wanted me to make you fix the bridge,” said Cara.

“Of course they did,” I said. “But again, I don’t think it’s a good idea to block off roadways. What if there’s a huge flood and you’re attacked from the other direction?”

“Who’s going to attack?” she asked. So far, nobody else had said a word. “We know our enemy and where they are. We’ve got stuff set up around our camp to take care of the rest.”

“Cara, you seem like a nice person,” I said. “But my son has been exposed to Diphtheria and I have an unknown amount of time and an unknown distance to travel. If they don’t have what I need at the Carolinas Memorial Hospital, I have to drive back down to the Beaufort Naval Hospital, so I can’t stay here and explain everything to you right now.”

“You said I need this stuff, too.” Her eyes no longer showed any aggression. I guess it’s hard to be angry at someone who offers help.

“Your baby needs it, Cara,” I said. “Maybe the Diphtheria can’t affect you, but your baby needs it very soon after it’s born, and I’ll bring you some. I’ll be comin’ back this way, and you’ve got sentries, right?”

“Every half mile,” she said.

“Okay, so you’ll know when I get back. Come find me and I’ll give you what you need.”

She looked around and caught the eyes of several standing around her. I saw some of them nod. Almost imperceptible. Then she turned back to me. “Okay, but we’re blocking the bridge again.”

I needed that bridge open in case I found what I needed in North Carolina. “Cara,” I said. “You’ve noticed an increase in the things, haven’t you? Just today?”

“Hell yeah, we have,” said a young man who appeared to be in his early twenties, wearing overalls and work boots. “We didn’t have shit for numbers until this morning. Now it’s like a goddamned parade. Why.”

He didn’t say it like a question. He wanted to know, and I understood.

“They’re drawn to us,” I said. “I can’t explain why right now, but I’ll tell you there’s nothing we can do about it and they’re heading toward us. What’s the next town up this way?” I asked, pointing north.

“Buckfield,” said Cara. “Just about five miles. Population of about three thousand or so. We did some damage there while we could, but there’s still a bunch of deaders scattered around the town.”

I nodded. “Yeah, you started with around 2,700 of ‘em if the usual percentages apply, and I don’t see why they wouldn’t. What about survivors?”

“There’s a few clusters of them, too,” said the young man. He, too, had red hair, and his eyes looked almost identical to Cara’s. He was one of her brothers, to be sure.

“What’s your name, buddy?” I asked.

He laughed and said, “Buddy, actually. Bradley, but everyone calls me Buddy.”

“Lucky guess,” I said. “Buddy, I’d suggest you post some defenders at a northern point, anywhere you see the things coming in. We’re gonna give you a bottle of something that can help a lot. It’s got an oil in it called urushiol. If you spray it on ‘em, they melt like shrink wrap under a heat gun. It just takes a little, so use it sparingly.”

“What’s it made of?” asked Cara. “Maybe we have some around.”

“Not likely,” I said. “If you can find poison ivy or poison oak, pick as much as you can carry and bring it back to your place. Where do you guys live?”

“My daddy’s place,” said Buddy, pointing behind him. “Just about a five minute walk through them trees. But we don’t want that shit on us. The poison ivy. The kids might get into it.”

“Trust me when I tell you that you’re all immune to it,” I said. “If you think back to times in your life someone pointed out that you were standing in poison ivy, you’ll remember that nothing happened. It’s a fact. It’s part of why you’re not one of them.”

“I think we need to know more about this,” said Cara.

“Look,” I said. “I gotta get back on the road, like now. Quick question. How are you all staying at one house?”

“It’s more of what you might call a compound,” said Cara, smiling for the first time. “We got a big family. I guess you can see.”

“Yeah,” I said, returning her smile. “I’ll give you the spray, but if you insist on blocking that bridge again, can you at least wait until we get back? We’ll need to cross it to get back home, and the zombies just cross the river anyway.”

“Not for long,” said one of the men who had not yet spoken. He had a full beard and mustache, a plaid shirt over a tee-shirt, and overalls over those. “If this storm blows in, we’re gonna have a good flood here. Been threatenin’ for two days now.”

“You think it’s a hurricane?” I asked.

“It is the season,” he said. “So in other words, yeah.”

“We have to go,” I reiterated. “I promise we’ll be back. If they have what we need at our first stop, we’ll be back before dark.”

Cara nodded and waved. “Get back to your car and get us that oil spray stuff,” she said. “Then get outta here and go get what you need,” she said. “And please, come back. We’ve got other pregnant women. Two of them.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Cara. I don’t make promises I don’t plan to keep. We’ll catch you on the way back. After I get back home and take care of my son, we’ll come back and teach you how to make the juice.”

“That’ll be good,” said Buddy. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” I said. “I have another question. Why were you guys patrolling just now, when you found us?”

“One of our boys heard you draggin’ the cars around,” said Buddy. “Thought you might be from Buckfield.”

“You got problems with some folks up there?”

Cara nodded. “Yeah. We take care of ourselves. Got good fishin’ in that river there, and good huntin’ in these woods. Couple of their guys shot Roland. He’s not here, but he’s okay. Lame now, but okay.”

“So it was an accident, right?” I asked.

“Started out that way, I think,” said another girl. This one was shorter than Cara, but as with all of the brothers and sisters, the hair was red, her face was freckled, and she had eyes that might have been interchangeable with the others. Her voice was softer.

“I heard the shot and somebody cryin’ afterward. I’m quiet, and I moved toward the sound. When I got closer, I saw the bastard walkin’ toward Roland, pointin’ his gun. He was aimin’ it. I shot him. Killed him.”

“How’re you handling it?” I asked.

“Okay. It was him or Roland. I didn’t know him.”

“So what?” I asked. “A feud started?”

“Shit sounds so hillbilly, but I guess there’s no other word for it,” said the girl. “Since then, they’ve sent regular parties down here with guns. Tryin’ to exact their revenge, I guess.”

“No explaining?” I asked. “Did you try?”

A big gust of wind hit us, and almost threw me off balance. With it came a general increase in the steady breeze.

“Gonna rain hard soon,” said Cara, shaking her head. “Anyway, Krauss and them boys in Buckfield, they’re gonna have to die before they leave us alone.”

“Krauss?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she responded. “He’s the leader.”

I nodded and said, “Hold on.” I walked back to the Land Cruiser. Tony still had the window down.

“I almost came out,” he said. “They seem okay.”

“They are, Tony. Hand me a bottle of the urushiol, would you?”

Tony smiled and shook his head. “You’re generous to a fault, you know that, Flex?”

“No idea,” I said. “I just do what’s right when I can.” I took the bottle from him and walked back to Cara, holding it out. A sound came from behind their group and I tipped my chin toward it.

“Here’s your chance to try it out,” I said.

Everyone’s gun swung around, and I called, “No, no! Try the oil. Just a tiny spray, right in the face.”

Cara turned and the group parted. “Keep your guns on it,” she said, walking toward the zombie. Its skin hung down in tatters from its face. A large gouge was missing from its left calf and only a thumb remained on its right hand.

Cara stepped to within two feet and sprayed once into its face. It wasn’t quite on stream or spray, but somewhere between the two. What resulted was a strong, wide spray pattern that wet the deader’s entire face, to use their own terminology.

The gray-green skin bubbled instantly, then sank into itself. It peeled away from the skull, momentarily making the thing appear like a Halloween store decoration, but it did not stop there. The skin continued to peel down its chest. It staggered forward, but still the group holding their rifles did not fire.

“Holy motherfucker,” said Buddy. “Cara, you seein’ this?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, looking at the bottle. “It’s like acid to them.”

“Yeah,” I said. “The bad kind.” I watched as the destruction continued as I’d seen so many times before. The head fell away, dropping to the ground as it sizzled and popped while the body toppled sideways and continued to dissolve.

“Saves on burnin’ ‘em,” said Buddy. “No cleanup.”

“Long as you’re not on a marble floor,” I said. “but now I really gotta go. Get yourselves the plants I told you about. Poison sumac, too. Any one of ‘em will work.”

“Thanks, Mr. Sheridan,” said Cara.

“Flex, please,” I said. “He was a good guy and a better electrician than me, but Mr. Sheridan was my dad.”

Cara nodded. I got back in the car and they parted, allowing us to pass. Tony and I both gave them a wave.

“I’d give my left nut to hear the conversation that happens now,” I said.

“Really?” said Tony, looking skeptical. “You really think it’s worth a nut?”

I laughed. “It’s an expression, Tony.”

“I know, but I can’t stand the thought of losin’ a nut. Hey, I’m hungry. Want some jerky?”

We both ate jerky in silence. After I was done with my first piece, I said, “Tony, do me a favor. Look at that map and see if there’s a way around Buckfield.”

 

*****