Fountain of the Dead Page 28

  “Sorry.”

  “How do we get this stuff back home?” Sam asked.

  “In five and ten gallon containers, stolen from a gas station obliterated by zombies.” They all turned at Crowe’s voice. He threw the containers on the ground outside the cave and pulled out two guns. “None of you are fast enough, don’t even think it.” He took Sharon’s rifle and motioned to all the others, a pile of pistols landed at his feet. Frank’s was the last one to land. “Give me that satchel, kid.”

  “No,” Micah said. Crowe fired a warning shot into the ground between Micah’s legs.

  “Next shot and you’ll never have any kids.”

  “Micah, do it!” Sharon shouted. He slid the shoulder strap free and tossed it out of the cave entrance.

  “You,” Crowe said pointing his gun at Sam. “Gather up all the guns and drop them in the satchel and hand it back to me, gently.” While Sam picked up the guns, Frank slipped Sam’s knife into the fountain. “Mr. Crenshaw, thanks you for finding the spring, and I thank you for lugging those containers back to my vehicle.”

  “Mr. Crenshaw,” Catherine hissed, “is a power mad asshole.”

  “I agree,” Crowe said. “But he pays the bills. Not that I really have a lot bills anymore.” Crowe looked at Frank. “Fill those.” Frank stood and gathered up the red plastic gas cans. He unscrewed the yellow caps and dunked each one into the basin. The weak sunlight that filtered in around Crowe glinted a little from the knife’s blade. Frank covered the knife with the containers. The small pool refilled after each container was full. Frank lined them up outside the mouth of the cave.

  “I should test that stuff,” Crowe grunted. He looked up towards the sky and blocked the sun with his hand. He looked over at Sam and shot him through the calf. “Make it work.” Sam screamed and fell over. Frank raised his hand to punch him; Crowe leveled the gun between his eyes. “Prove that thing works or I’ll kill each of you until I see it in action.” Crowe pulled back the hammer on the gun.

  “Give me a hand, kid.” Micah rushed out the cave and grabbed Sam under an arm, Frank took the other. Together they dragged him back into the cave. Frank ripped his pants and rolled up the material past Sam’s knee.

  “Take it easy, Sam. This is going to feel kind of funny.” Frank maneuvered Sam’s leg into the water. The expression of Sam’s face calmed as his leg healed. He lifted his leg from the water. The wound was gone, no scar. Aside from the blood on his pant leg and the bullet hole, there was no evidence. Frank reached into the water and pulled out the bullet.

  “Heals gunshot wounds and, refreshing,” Frank cupped a handful of water and drank from it. Crowe motioned the others out of the cave. Sam stood nervously on his leg, testing his weight and then walked out. Micah snatched up his journals and ran out and stood behind Sharon. Crowe crouched and stepped into the cave. He shot a sideways glance as Frank and tickled the water with his fingers.

  “Nice and cool.” Crowe bent his head for a drink and Frank drove the knife through his chin up into his skull. If he’d been two seconds faster, Crowe would have seen the glint of the knife. If he had been paying attention he could have blocked Frank’s attack and stuffed the knife into his throat. Frank took a step back to see what would happen.

  The tip of the blade poked out from his hairline. Sunlight sparkled through the blood. Crowe looked over at Frank incredulously and fell face first into the pool. The water splashed from the basin and instantly dried on the floor of the cave. The water clouded over with Crowe’s blood. Bubbles of his last breath escaped his lips. Frank watched his fingers twitch once then stop.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Catherine said. “I hate Florida.”

  “Careful, people will mistake you for a postal worker,” Frank said and spun sensing movement behind him. Water from the basin splashed over the cave floor. Crowe sat up, the knife still lodged under his chin. He tried to open his mouth and the knife blade sawed through his lips.

  “Can’t you just fucking die?” Frank grabbed the handle of the knife and pulled it down. Blood gushed down his hand. Crowe latched on to Frank’s hand in struggle. Even half dead, or half alive, Crowe was incredibly strong. If this was a fair fight, Frank knew he’d be dead in a heartbeat. Frank forced the blade deeper into Crowe’s skull and then pulled down again; sawing through bone, cartilage, and muscle. Micah started to scream at the sight. Frank and Crowe struggled for the handle of the knife. Frank had it firmly in both hands. Crowe let go of the knife and went for his gun.

  Getting a better grip on the handle Frank pushed the knife up and out of Crowe’s head. Two inches of steel jutted out from the top of Crowe’s skull. The struggle left Crowe and he dropped to the cave floor. Frank kicked Crowe’s body over away from the pool.

  “Won’t make that mistake again.” He looked at Crowe’s body half expecting it to get up and attack, pull the knife from his head and lunge. But it was still, no twitches, no death rattle, no last breath. Crowe was gone. Frank looked down at the basin; the water cleared, and all the impurities from Crowe’s blood filtered out.

  “Is it too much to ask for my knife back?” Sam asked.

  “You know where it is, feel free.” Frank walked out of the cave and wiped his hands on his pants. “I wish I had a shirt.”

  “Me too,” Micah said. Micah took his satchel and handed the guns back.

  “Let’s get these back to the cars. I’m sure Beverly is worried.” Catherine said. They picked up the containers, but Frank wasn’t following.

  “I need to do something truly gruesome.” Frank patted down Crowe and took his guns, ammo and cell phone. In the pocket of his leather jacket was the most God-awful Aloha shirt he’d ever seen. Frank took it and put it on, and then reached for Sam’s knife.

  * * * * *

  Catherine gasped and screamed when they came to the vehicles. Beverly’s shredded legs still hung from the broken window. Everything else lay in the pile near the car. Micah turned and threw up and then ran for the Monte and dove in the back seat, dropping the water he carried on the way.

  “Jesus,” Frank sighed. He put the water on the pavement and looked around. A few of the dead roamed the street; he looked over at Sharon, who was going to the Monte. “Sharon?”

  “Out of ammo.” Frank took a step forward, aimed and took out the few he could see on the road; they crumpled into heaps on the asphalt.

  “There must have been a shit load of these fuckers from all the bloody tracks on the road,” Frank said.

  “You think their skin will cook, when the road gets hot enough?” Sam asked.

  “You’re a sick fuck, Sam,” Frank said.

  “We came down here with twelve,” Catherine said leaning against the Monte. “We’re going home with five. The only good things are we have the water, which we don’t know if it works against bites. And two of the dozen we came with, weren’t ours.”

  “Don’t think too much about it Catherine. We all volunteered for this trip, one way or not.” Frank squeezed her shoulder trying to comfort.

  “Maybe, Frank. But I’m the one going to tell Meredith her mother is dead.” They stood for a moment absorbed in their loss. Another friend left by the side of the road. This was their dearest loss yet. None of them heard the approaching footsteps.

  “Or how about, I piss on the ashes of your village after I kill you all and fly back to Boston with this miracle cure.” Catherine turned at Crenshaw’s words. She instantly filled with the old hate.

  “Hello Richard, you piece of shit,” Catherine said. “Took you long enough.” She moved so she wouldn’t have any part of her back to the man. Crenshaw walked out from the shoulder of the road. Catherine looked down the road to see a sedan parked about a quarter mile off; the afternoon sun reflected off the windshield.

  “I drove all night to get here, and all I get is ‘Hello Richard’?”

  “Should I swoon? Like I did when I was a young stupid girl? Fall into your arms, run slow motion with my hair blowing in the wind?”
Frank looked over at Catherine, hand on his gun. She shook her head. “I should have smothered you in your sleep, you son of a bitch. Or driven a knife through your chest.”

  “You two know each other?” Sam asked.

  “She never told you? Any of you? Seriously?” Sam shook his head. Crenshaw walked around the Explorer and covered his mouth with a handkerchief. “Now that smell, is awful.” He kicked at the remains with the toes of his shoe. He glanced in through the window at Williams’ corpse.

  “Williams there, hell of a scrounger. That guy could find anything I needed or wanted.” He turned and waggled his finger at the others. “If he couldn’t then he would torture and kill until he found it. Ruthless fuck he was.” He rounded the Explorer. “I suppose now that he’s dead, I’ll have to tell his wife and kid, or just throw them on the street. Whichever is easiest.” He leaned up against the Jeep. “But Catherine over there, Mayor, Chieftain, Dominatrix. Whatever you want to call her, used to be married to me, a long, long time ago. Couldn’t kill her daddy, didn’t kill me. Wouldn’t even call the cops on me. And I beat her bloody a few times.” The silence was palpable. “Nothing to say?” Frank took a step forward, ready to defend or attack. He felt suddenly foolish in the bright red Aloha shirt.

  “About how you beat me and left me unconscious in the driveway? About how it took me over two weeks to recover from the injuries?”

  “You hate me, don’t you, Catherine.”

  “I hate zombies, I hate what the world has become. But you, I loathe. Two weeks to get over my wounds, Richard. It only took me two minutes to get over you. When I sped off in my van, I was through with you.”

  “I should have burnt you people out years ago. I let you stay and live. Found you all a little amusing. I always liked to keep track on my Catherine. Whenever you made your pitiful attempts at trading, I always allowed it.”

  “When I found a new place to live, Richard, I aborted the thing growing inside me. I was afraid of giving birth to another...you.” Crenshaw looked hurt for a very brief moment, then his arrogance and cockiness returned.

  “Can we get on with this horse shit moment please? I want to go home,” Sam said. “That house I live in ain’t much but it’s been my home for six or seven years now.”

  “About that,” Crenshaw said. “Did you have fire insurance?” Waters and Frost stepped out from the shoulder of the road. “We had a little party while you were gone. Call it a bonfire party. But the only wood we could find was your houses.” Sam balled his fists and charged Crenshaw. Waters slapped him down to the road. “Save your energy son, you’re going to need it.”

  “What do you want, Crenshaw?” Catherine spat.

  “Why use your venom on me, Princess?” Crenshaw looked to the faces hoping for some recognition of the quote. He walked to his men and stood in front of them. Both towered over him. He looked around at the vehicles and the people. “Where’s Crowe?”

  “Dead in the swamp,” Frank said coolly.

  “How?”

  “I stabbed him in the head. Drove a knife through his chin into his skull.” Frank held up his fingers, showed Crenshaw Crowe’s blood that still stained the digits, and then tossed a handful of his teeth onto the road at Crenshaw’s feet. “The rest is about a three hour march and a boat ride that way.” Frank pointed over his shoulder.

  “He was my best man. A king compared to these idiots behind me. But these two have their uses and like dogs, they’re loyal. Throw them some food and shelter and they never leave my side. Crowe always had something else going on his brain. He was a born psychopath. That man loved to kill. Now you,” Crenshaw pointed to Sam. “Get Williams out of the car and clean up that mess.”

  “And if I don’t?” Crenshaw nudged Waters and he fired a shot into the road at Sam’s feet. “Not even a pretty please?”

  “Anyone know how Williams died? He wasn’t bitten, that’s obvious. Was it the wounds or the shot to the head?” Crenshaw looked expectedly for an answer. “The rest of you, toss your guns in the road.” The clatter of metal against pavement rang out. The dead came out at the noise. “Better hurry with that clean up.” Sam gagged from the other side of the Explorer. Footsteps rushed into the brush at the side of the road as he threw up.

  “Pussy,” Waters muttered.

  “Villagers have no stomach for this stuff,” Frost said.

  * * * * *

  Sam pulled Beverly’s remains from the window of the Explorer. He coughed and gagged through the entire ordeal. With trembling hands he gathered up what of her had hit the road and piled it in the grass on the side. While Sam cleaned, Crenshaw ordered Waters and Frost to clean out the dead in the streets. Frank clenched his fists, looking for an opening. The others looked on in silence as Crenshaw swatted mosquitoes away. He seemed bored by the entire event.

  Sam went into the back of the Explorer and got a bottle of warm water to try and wash away the vomit taste in his mouth.

  “Don’t waste that water,” Crenshaw yelled. “That’s worth more to me than any of you are.” Crenshaw waved his men over and they huddled down like linemen around the quarterback. Frank thought about rushing them for their guns and putting as many bullets them as he could, before they killed him. Sam walked over and offered warm water to the others. The huddle broke and Crenshaw approached the group.

  “Here’s the thing.” Crenshaw spread his arms open wide, like the wings of a hawk. “I need proof that the water works.” Crenshaw stopped mid-sentence and looked to his man and laughed. “I never even thought about it until now.” Crenshaw pointed at Waters, then at the jugs on the road and laughed some more. During the outburst Frank stepped forward only to be yanked back in place by Sam. Micah stared down the length of road in each direction; they were alone, no hope or rescue in sight. The police weren’t coming to save the day or them. Crenshaw stepped on the teeth and stumbled forward.

  “No one else gets that? Water? Waters? Fine. Normally I’d ask for a volunteer or just pick someone. I thought I’d have a little fun.” Crenshaw grabbed Micah from the others and threw him to the ground and dropped a revolver in his lap. “Take out five bullets and spin it.” Crenshaw looked back to his men. “What are you morons waiting for?” Waters went to the trunk of the Monte and shot the lock out; he rummaged around inside while Frost watched with indifference. Micah’s hands shook as he emptied the bullets from the cylinder. They bounced off the street. He reached for one, the tip tapping as he tried inserting it.

  “This is going to take all day,” Crenshaw said throwing up his arms. Something rustled in the deep grass across the street. Waters pulled some rope out of the trunk and whistled for Sam and waved him over with the barrels of their guns. They threw the rope at him and pushed him along down the road.

  “So tell me, Catherine did you know the sex of our offspring before you killed it?”

  “I never cared enough to ask. I wanted that thing out of me.” She responded with venom. Micah finally got the bullet into the chamber; he closed it and handed the gun back.

  “Thank you, son.”

  “Don’t call me son,” Micah said and ran back to the others.

  “We’re going to play a game. Catherine and you two,” Crenshaw said pointing the revolver at Frank and Sharon. Micah clung on to her hand until the distance forced him to let go. Crenshaw spun the chamber and pointed the gun at Catherine and pulled the trigger.

  * * * * *

  “What are we doing?” Sam trudged down the road, rope in hand.

  “We?” Waters asked. “You’re going to wrangle us a zombie.” They continued down the street, until Sam spotted one with no others around. “Every place we go, there’s dozens of them and today, we can’t find one.”

  “We’re lucky and we also killed a lot.” Waters pushed Sam in the shoulder; he stumbled forward and dropped the rope. The dead turned to look at him; there was one in the road ahead. Its jaw moved mechanically despite the fact it wasn’t eating. Sam reached for the rope. Frost nudged him forward with his
foot.

  “You two keep pushing me, you’ll have to do this yourselves.” They took a step back and readied their guns, just in case. Sam’s mind raced, trying to think of the best way to capture it. He watched the movement. There was no way a snare would work, the way it shuffled along.

  “I’d kill for a dog catching pole,” Sam muttered. He tied a quick slip knot at the end of a loop and sighed. “This better work,” Sam whispered. He took a step back, started spinning the rope over his head.

  “The fool is going to lasso it.” Frost laughed and slapped Waters on the arm. Sam took a deep breath and let the rope fly.

  * * * * *

  Click. Crenshaw looked disappointed, when the chamber came up empty. He spun it again and pointed it at Sharon. Micah bit his lip and tried not to look. Crenshaw eased the trigger back, enjoying the moment. Click. Crenshaw scowled and for good measure pulled the trigger again. He spun the barrel and pointed it at Frank. Click.

  “This game was so much better in my head.” Crenshaw spun the cylinder again and pointed the revolver at Catherine. This time he peeked and smiled then shot Catherine in the shoulder.

  * * * * *

  Sam let the rope fly. The dead didn’t make an attempt to move. It was focused on its next meal. The rope circled its shoulders and he yanked back hard. The knot tightened and when he pulled again, the zombie toppled over face first into the pavement leaving a skin trail on the asphalt.

  “Holy shit he did it,” Waters said.

  “Holy shit, it worked,” Sam said. When it tried to rise, Sam looped the rope around the beast a few times and got close enough to tie it off. He dodged its snapping teeth and walked backwards slow, letting the zombie follow. Patches of skull showed through dead, sun burnt skin. One eye hung by muscles, the other solid white. Weak arms struggled against the ropes and it stumbled every time Sam gave it a tug.

  * * * * *