Fountain of the Dead Read online

  “This Pierce guy they were looking for, do we know anything?”

  “Not a thing. They got booted from our servers before they finished digging.” Crenshaw drank from the glass and licked his lips. He missed ice. Having cubes to clink together in his glass was always comforting. “Did Crowe take care of you?”

  “Crappy clothes, a few days away from my family, a pistol with three clips, a bag of beef jerky, that may or may not be beef, I’m afraid to ask. And a canteen and a radio to check in with.” Williams looked at his costume again and shook his head.

  “Have to love Crowe’s minimalism. Stay in contact with Crowe, he’ll report back to me. If you get into a situation, feel free to shoot whomever you need to. You don’t need to worry about the police.” Crenshaw stretched out on the couch, careful to not spill his drink.

  “Understood, Mr. Crenshaw,” Williams said turning towards the door.

  “Really? Explain it to me,” Crenshaw barked from behind the cushions.

  “Infiltrate the village, do some recon, if I get into a situation I can’t handle, call in the troops, and take out as many of the natives as I deem necessary.”

  “You should have been a stock broker,” Crenshaw said. Williams eased out into the hallways and closed the door. He looked down the long corridor; no one was around. He sighed and rested against the wall a second.

  “I was never a big enough asshole to be on Wall Street.”

  * * * * *

  “Think of it, you can call your little village here ‘Zombie cure ground zero’ or something of the like. ‘Anti-Zombie homestead,’” Pierce said. Catherine noted the crazy flaring in Pierce’s eyes.

  “Enough.” Catherine sat with her head bowed for a moment and rubbed her temples while the others gathered murmured. Pierce sat cross legged on the ground and examined his bite scars. He picked at a scab and flicked it off to the road then traced a crack with his fingers. Frank scowled and never took his eyes off him. He flexed his thick fingers near the gun handle, ready to draw and put several new holes in the stranger that threatened the safety of their village. Catherine opened her eyes and stood. Micah watched her leave the chair and took out his journal; he dated the page best he could and wrote.

  I still don’t know what day it is. I’m sure Mom told me but I didn’t pay attention. Pierce is making a good case for himself. But I still don’t see how Catherine can risk the village. She seems really confused about the entire thing. There’s something wrong with Pierce, but I don’t know what it is yet. I wish Frank would shoot him and be done with it. It feels like he’s convinced her. We need to test that water. I don’t know why Catherine hasn’t done that yet. Let Pierce get bit and then test it so we all can see. Make the trip worthwhile. It’s not like we have to look hard to get something to chew on him.

  “My friends,” Catherine started. “We have lived here in safety and unison and semi-peace for several years. Even with those assholes, sorry Micah, in Boston. It was a lot of hard work to get where we are now. We have grown complacent, but now we have the chance to do something great, something that will be etched into history.” Frank shook his head and closed his eyes, already knowing what she was going to say. He crossed his arms and leaned against the hood of his jeep.

  “I have decided to help Pierce, but not alone. I won’t force or ask any of you to go. But I will ask for volunteers.” Silence filled the village, save for the occasional gunshot, gust of wind and scribble from Micah’s pencil. Meredith sat next to him and read over his shoulder. “Tonight after dinner, we’ll hold a lottery. Everyone will take a piece of paper. Write your name on it or leave it blank. Fold it up and we’ll put them all into a bucket and I will draw the names of people going.” Pierce smiled so wide Catherine thought his face would split. Catherine glared at him.

  “Go home, spend time with your friends and loved ones, shoot zombies, do something you enjoy.” Catherine sat back down and took an old weathered book from her pack, and read. Meredith looked at the spine of the book; it was Gone With the Wind. Micah finished writing and checked the words so that they were all correct and handed his journal for Catherine to check. She stared at the words for a moment, nodded, and went back to her novel.

  “If that speech didn’t make you talk, Micah, I don’t know what will,” Catherine said. He kissed her on the cheek and mouthed the word “mother” and headed off to the sniper tower.

  Beverly came up and put a hand on her daughter’s shoulders. “You’re going aren’t you, Mom?”

  “I have no choice; they’re going to need a medic. I want you to stay here and be safe.”

  “Please, like you would let me go, even if I wanted to.”

  Beverly bent down and kissed the top of Meredith’s head. “We might need a medic here you know.”

  “Did you find anything on the laptop?” Beverly asked.

  “It’s still in the browser history; the laptop is in Catherine’s house.”

  “Maybe we should go read up on Mr. Pierce.”

  “Maybe we should,” Meredith stood and took her mother’s hand and they went to Catherine’s house. “Not that we got a lot.” Catherine stared at the pages some more until she finally gave up, unable to focus on the words.

  * * * * *

  Crowe climbed into the driver’s seat of the sedan and started the engine. Williams slid into the passenger’s side and slammed the door hard. He buckled up and took his gun out, just in case. Crowe raced down the ramps of the parking garage, laying on the horn as he drove. The barricades were cleared when Crowe hit the exits. A few of the guards nodded in acknowledgement; the others went back to getting the barricades back in place. The streets were cleared of the dead with quick bursts of automatic rifles. When the car was in the clear, the barricades, saw horses with barbed wire, sand bags, and police riot shields, were set back up.

  Crowe sped down the streets avoiding the dead when he could, running them down when he couldn’t or chose to. The streets were vacant of real people, though he and Crenshaw both knew there were pockets of survivors in some of the buildings, dug in so tight and deep that God himself couldn’t extract them. He swerved around an overturned dairy truck, with a desiccated corpse partially into the tank’s hatch. He tried to figure out how many times he’d driven past that truck and couldn’t.

  “Makes me crave milk,” Williams said; he forced a smile but Crowe’s dead expression didn’t change. The further they got out of town the faster Crowe went. Williams gripped the door handle and the dash white-knuckled, not sure what was going to give out first, the engine or his mind. He stopped the car at the Storrow Drive ramp leaving a good twenty foot skid mark behind.

  “Get out here,” Crowe muttered. Williams looked around.

  “You’re kidding me right? You know how far it is?”

  “I don’t kid, and get out. You look ragged, now you need to feel ragged. Unless you want me to rough you up a little so you feel the role better.” Crowe’s fingers tickled the handle of his sidearm. Williams fumbled with the door lock and staggered from the car. Crowe tossed him an extra gun and a bundle of clips, wrapped in plastic and taped together.

  “Don’t get eaten on the way to town. Check in once you’re in sight of the village and again once you’re inside.”

  “Thanks.”

  Crowe spun the car around, filling the air with burnt rubber. “There’s a range on the radios so be careful. I’ll always be ten to fifteen minutes away.”

  Williams nodded and watched the tail lights disappear into the distance. He stuffed the clips in his pack and quickstepped out of Boston. He followed the lines of abandoned cars on the south side bridge until he saw the signs for 93 North and started jogging. The massive green signs sat on rusted poles, marred with bullet holes and scorch marks. Williams stopped to examine one and catch his breath. The blood splatter on one sign must have gone up 10 feet. Williams continued silent and fast; the further from the city he got, the more his family and survival filled his mind. He dodged cars, tried to k
eep even breaths and watch out for any dead shambling up the highway.

  * * * * *

  When the area was cleared Catherine looked up from the book. She wasn’t reading any way; the words refused to focus, especially after her decision to help Pierce. Frank sat on the railing of his porch trying to be subtle that he wasn’t keeping an eye on her. She folded the page corner and it the book on the road and waved Frank over.

  “What can I do for you, Catherine?”

  “Micah wrote something in the journal about some kind of test. Something to prove the water works. Otherwise we’re just striking out blind here.” Frank nodded and rubbed his chin deep in thought.

  “I could shoot Pierce, if we had the ammo to spare.” Frank said.

  “I knew you were going to say that.”

  “I’m not shooting anyone I care about.”

  “We can try cutting ourselves and see how it does on flesh wounds. All things being all things, there’s not a whole lot of water in that canteen. And Sam had a point. How did he haul water up the east coast without drinking that?” Frank took the knife out of his boot and flexed his hand, ready to cut. There was motor oil and grit under his nails. Even though she’d killed undead, stitched wounds and pulled bullets out of people Catherine turned her eyes away before Frank cut into himself. Frank pressed the blade to his arm, scowled and thought again. He put the blade on his thumb.

  “Why aren’t we cutting Pierce?” He asked.

  “Honestly, Frank, I couldn’t tell you.” Catherine looked at the houses, some with candle light in the windows, others using generator power. “Go get him.” She smiled and patted his arm. “Get his canteen too, we may need that for this test.” She watched him walk off towards the shed. “If he disagrees, feel free to smack him around.”

  “Want me to get Micah?” Frank asked.

  “It was his idea, but no. Let’s keep this between us.”

  She watched Frank move the canvas flaps that used to be an old tent, on top of the shed and unlock it. He disappeared inside. After a few seconds of muted and incoherent shouting, Pierce was pushed out of the shed, landing hard on his side and sliding on the road. Frank came out right after holding the canteen. He shrugged at Catherine and helped Pierce to stand.

  “You called?” Pierce said holding his side.

  “We’re going to test your water. See if it works, see how it works.” Catherine said. Pierce lunged for the canteen tight in Frank’s hand. “First we need to give someone an injury.” Pierce calmed down at the threat.

  “Frank,” Catherine said calmly. “I’ll do it.”

  “Like hell you will. We take him, drop him outside for a minute and pull him back in. If it doesn’t work, I shoot him in the head. Two problems solved with one bite.” Pierce raised his hand like a child asking a question in school.

  “I’d much rather she do it.”

  “Give me the knife, Frank, now.” Frank handed her the knife handle first and opened the canteen. Pierce looked on with an odd bloodlust in his eyes. Catherine made a shallow incision down her arm. She bled as the skin cut and separated. She gasped with pain and Frank poured the water on her arm.

  * * * * *

  They lined up in front of Catherine while the groans of the undead surrounded them from the outside of the fences, like they knew something was going on. Micah made a quick sketch of the crowd and the stew pot set on the stump, where the ballots would go. Catherine was the first one to drop in her paper and then in turn everyone else did the same, silent and one at a time. Gerry and Tony stacked wood for the evening bonfire but the reserves were running low. They would need to find some woodland and cut down some trees soon; the ones in the village were too busy holding up the sniper platforms. Catherine had planned on them taking them on a road trip north and put it off thinking there would always be time.

  With each ballot, whether blank or written on, Catherine acknowledged each person. When Micah went to drop in his ballot she took the paper from his hand, smiled and tossed it over her shoulder into the fire pit. He frowned at her and tried to drop a back up ballot into the pot. That one she stuffed in her pocket.

  “Not fair.” He scribbled on is white board. He wiped at the words with his fingertips.

  “Your time will come, Micah, you’re too young for a trip like this.”

  “I need to keep track of history.” He wrote next and took the journals from his bag and started flipping through the pages, showing Catherine; practically shaking the books at her.

  “I know you feel you must chronicle the trip, leave that to me. I promise every detail will be recorded.” Micah scratched his shoulder after putting the journals away trying to think. He nodded in approval and gave Catherine a quick hug. Sharon came over and stood next to Micah; he bent down and rested his head on her shoulder for a moment. She wiped her hands on her shirt.

  “Catherine, we’re low on meat, the freezers are almost empty. We need to schedule a run to the city or a hunting party.” Sharon wrung her hands on her shirt tails ashamed of having brought that news. She was a hair shorter than Micah at fifteen and a bit chubby in the face. Running a canteen truck for several years never helped her weight.

  “We’re also almost out of gas,” Frank added. “We need fuel for the generators to keep the freezers going. Then we need to fuel the vehicles for this trip of yours. Maybe see a few deer on the road and you know.”

  Catherine brushed a lock of grey hair caught in the breeze from her eyes. She turned away to look at the colored foliage clinging to branches. The mood was broken by a gunshot and body falling to the ground.

  The lack of cooking smells and the lottery brought out everyone from their homes. Catherine sat and Micah handed her an empty journal and several pencils. She smiled and put them under her chair.

  “People, I’m going to draw the names now. After that, you’ll need to eat from your own supplies. Tomorrow we will plan the trip and the rest of you will need to go shopping. Find a spot on the road we can cut down some trees, or a yard loaded with cord wood.” Catherine looked around at the array of faces, apprehensive, scared, and excited. She reached into the pot and drew out the first ballot. She unfolded it, holding her breath. She sighed and showed the first piece; it was blank. Nervous laughter rippled through the crowd. She crumpled the blank tag and tossed it into the fire pit.

  The next four ballots brought four names, then three blanks and the next round all names. When Catherine calculated the names in her head, she emptied the rest of the papers into the fire pit. “We have our party.” She called them out one by one; those called stepped to the side and then gathered near Catherine. Micah’s face paled when he saw Sharon among the party. She looked away and then turned back and tried to smile for him. He rubbed his eyes and plodded off, with Meredith on his heels.

  “Right then,” Pierce said. “When do we leave?”

  “Tomorrow or the day after. Mr. Pierce, we need to get a hunting party formed, send people out for supplies,” Catherine said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What it means, fuck-stick, is we need to ready our village for this run,” Frank said.

  “Everyone with a vehicle with gas will go, get fuel and forage,” Catherine said.

  “It’s ludicrous to wait. We need to leave now,” Pierce demanded. Catherine turned to Pierce, hand raised and caught herself. Pierce flinched and backed down.

  “I will not risk a journey of this magnitude on a fatigued and hungry crew. We would be dead before the state line and I will not subject myself or any of my friends to that. You’re welcome to leave now Mr. Pierce if you want. We were safe and happy before you showed up and we’ll be safe and happy after you’re gone.” Pierce looked around at the crowd. For the first time, Frank didn’t have his hands on his guns; he looked amused at the fear in Pierce’s eyes. He smiled and waved. Pierce skulked off to the medical shed and closed himself in. Frank sauntered over to Catherine and kissed her on the cheek.

  “There are days, like today,
I have no doubt why we follow you.”

  “Days like today I doubt it enough for everyone.”

  “It’s nice you got Pierce trained like a dog. He skulked off to a dark place to hide. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll lock him in for the night.” Frank whistled a tune and headed for the shed to keep the crazy locked away from the night. There’d be enough for that in the next few weeks for everyone.

  * * * * *

  The vehicles tore out of the gates under a cover of gunfire. Frank’s Jeep, one truck with a trailer hitched to it, and the SUV. Catherine watched through pensive eyes as the tail-lights disappeared from sight. She nodded to the towers and the gates were closed up again. Pierce walked up to her shining an apple against his chest.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “The doctor lady’s daughter felt sorry for me and gave it to me.” Pierce took a big bite, practically biting it in half. Catherine slapped him hard across the face; thought about doing it again. She held her hand to her chest rubbing it. The pain was worth it. Chunks of apple and spittle flew from his mouth. He looked shocked at her and dropped the remains of the apple on the cracked pavement.

  “You’ve disrupted our lives, maybe brought in some excitement and hope for this cure. Beverly has done what she can with the water you gave her, which was nothing.” She looked at him knowingly and rubbed her arm.

  “What’d she find out?” Pierce asked rubbing his cheek.

  “It’s water. No special properties. Do we look like we have a test lab here?” Pierce shrugged and looked at the apple at his feet and then stepped on it.

  “But we know better don’t we, Catherine?”

  “Did someone say something to you?” Pierce locked his lips and tossed away the imaginary key. “If any of my people get hurt on this trip--”