Fountain of the Dead Page 9

  “Let them fester in there.”

  “I’ll fire up the radio and see if I can get anything. Some of the villages used to broadcast reports, maybe I can find something,” Meredith said.

  “Good idea, Meredith.” Catherine smiled. Meredith took Grace’s hand and they ran to Beverly’s house. Beverly met them on the porch and followed them inside.

  * * * * *

  “What’d they get you for? Williams asked.

  “I found the cure to the zombie plague so they threatened me and locked me in the shed.” Pierce answered. Williams walked the walls of the shed and tapped on each.

  “So they took the savior of the universe and locked you in here?”

  “Pretty much.” Pierce stood facing the door. “Pay attention now, the door is direct ahead. To my right are shelves, but that wall is re-enforced from the outside. The wall to my left is against one of the houses and the back wall, like the other is reinforced from outside.”

  “Nice little prison they got here.”

  “Why are you here?” Pierce asked.

  “I got kicked out of Boston and ended up here.”

  “And now we’re bonding,” Pierce said. Williams sat on the floor in the corner.

  “Do they feed you in this prison?” Williams asked.

  “Food’s pretty good, diner grade.”

  “Have you tried breaking out of this shed?” Williams asked.

  “No. They distrust me enough already. Why pour more gasoline on the fire?”

  “I bet a couple good kicks could get us out of here,” Williams said.

  “Then we run into the snipers or Frank, who hates me with the heat of a thousand exploding suns,” Pierce said and sat down facing the doors. “I’ll wait this one out, you go Rambo on the doors.”

  “Might as well tell me about your cure,” Williams said. “We’re going to be here awhile.”

  “Tell me about what you did to get kicked out of Boston.” Pierce spun around to face Williams and pushed some wild red hair from his eyes. Williams looked at the man.

  “You’re not all in there are you?”

  “No, I’m not,” Pierce said shaking his head.

  “Great, lost my home, the world has gone to hell, the dead wander the land...and I’m locked in a shed with a dude who’s bat-fuck crazy.”

  * * * * *

  Grace sat on the couch and cracked her knuckles. Meredith grimaced at the popping and went to the radio; she switched it on and was greeted by static. She swapped over to the AM stations and turned the dial. A crackling voice ripped through the white noise of the static. Beverly came in and handed them each small cups of water.

  “What is it?” Meredith waved her hands at her mother trying to silence her. She moved her head closer to the speaker. “Do you hear anything?” Meredith glared at her.

  This is an automated message and it will repeat until the batteries die. Avoid Cape Cod and the coastline. We were 200 strong, settled in a beachside community. The dead came from the ocean in droves, down in the depths so long the skin had sloshed off their bones. At first we saw only a couple of them as the tides went out and then, then hell came for us. There are less than ten of us now. If any one hears this and has enough fire power, we’re hopeful to be found alive. We’re hiding in a cottage, look for the little green store that sells flags, we’re next to it. God help us.

  Meredith shivered hearing the woman’s voice in the broadcast. She rubbed her arms and stepped back as it repeated.

  “That’s kind of hopeful,” Grace said rolling her eyes.

  “It’s a good thing they’re bypassing The Cape and Rhode Island,” Beverly said.

  “Would have been useful if they gave a city name or something,” Meredith added. “Maybe the name of the shop.”

  “I’m going outside to talk to Catherine. You two stay in here, keep fiddling with that radio,” Beverly said and closed the door behind her. Beverly shivered on the porch against a sudden chill, suddenly extra fearful for their trip and her daughter’s survival. The autumn air was chilled; but not so cold to cause the shivers racing up and down her body.

  * * * * *

  Catherine traced the map route with her fingers. She blew into her other hand for warmth. A blanket was draped over her shoulders.

  “We better get that fire going.” Catherine pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders. “There are a couple small stops and a tourist town and then we hit the National Forest. And that’s one place we don’t want to be stuck. We have to make sure the vehicles are all fueled before setting off through there.” She smiled briefly as the fire crackled to life. The gunshots were sobering.

  “We have to go through the Carolina’s, following this route,” Frank said. “Then into Georgia,” he shivered and everyone turned to look at him. “Georgia is like a Demilitarized Zone. It’s worse than Pennsylvania. Some of the bigger meteors hit there during the Night Storm. No law, no villages or cities left, it’s a wasteland.”

  “Unfortunately our route has us going through Georgia from top to bottom. And we’ll add on God knows how many hundreds of miles if we try to go through Tennessee and Alabama. By that point we might as well be direct,” Catherine said.

  “We go in hot, pay attention and drive safest we can, we should be all set. Long as we don’t drive into the meteor craters, we might be okay,” Frank said.

  “Then we hit Florida and follow the east coast straight into the swamp. I hate Florida but at least it’s warm there. I used to dream about opening a studio down on the Keys,” Catherine said, “selling paintings and photographs. The front of the gallery would have a little café with coffee and scones.”

  “What if this guy is bullshitting us, Catherine? What if he’s playing us, so his buddies can come out of hiding and hijack our little town here?” Tony asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about that, Tony. It seems to me, that we need to take the risk, salvage some of what’s left out there. Worse case, we turn around and come back. Maybe with a fresh load of supplies crammed into the vehicles. We’ll be leaving enough people behind to care for the camp. There’s plenty of food and supplies. And if they pace themselves, the ammo will hold out. We’re going to have to go into the city when we get back though.” Catherine gathered up the maps and walked to the budding fire; she took her chair and rubbed her hands against the flames. “And if it’s all a hoax, all bullshit. We burn them all.”

  “How are you feeling?” Frank asked.

  “I think I’m starting to feel my age. Why don’t you go fetch our guests? We should feed them, let them walk around. Keep your guns ready, just in case.” Frank flicked the safeties off his pistols, headed towards the shed. He stopped with the heavy material flap in his hand and looked back to Catherine. She nodded and he lifted them and unlocked the doors.

  * * * * *

  Williams scooped the food to his mouth with his fingers; someone had given him a spoon and he passed on it. He thought the desperation of eating with his fingers might add some credibility to his story. Pierce picked at his bowl with a sharpened stick, raising the occasional piece of meat to his lips, nibbling at it and setting it back down again. They ate in silence, interrupted by gunshots. The groaning was loud and guttural tonight, like the dead were beckoning, trying to call them out of their fenced in village to be feasted on.

  “Why are they doing that?” Catherine asked Pierce. He looked around confused before realizing he was being talked to.

  “Me?”

  “You are the expert, with the cure and all.” Pierce dropped a skewered piece of meat in his bowl and pushed it away. “Enlighten us.”

  “We never really figured it out. I’ve heard about places experimenting on them with no luck, reward systems and behavioral tests. It’s always the same the doctors get infected and they get put down with their test subjects. “

  “That’s all pretty much common information,” Catherine said.

  “Did you know that they have a way of sensing us? The body and most of the
brain die but something else comes online. I don’t know if it’s a sixth sense or if they have special zombie heat vision, I don’t know. They seem to travel in packs. They’re drawn to each other. It was speculated it was something to do with the dust from the meteors.”

  Williams reached into his coat and clicked on the power to his radio, set to broadcast. If Crowe was out there he’d hear them. He’d kept this one hidden so far. If anyone found it, he knew someone would try to jam it down his throat.

  “But I think they’re out there groaning and all, because they can sense something. There’s something in the camp that’s exciting them, besides the fire and the noise and the warm bodies. Maybe it’s some residue of their past lives percolating in the remnants of their brains.” Pierce shrugged. “Maybe they just want critter stew.”

  “You could have just said you didn’t know,” Frank said.

  “We have our route, Mr. Pierce, for the trek to Florida. If this was pre-zombie, it’d be a nice drive about 24 hours straight through. Since we have to take detours and try to find safe zones and fuel along the way, it’s going to take a few days, at least that’s what I’m hoping.” Catherine said.

  “How many people are you sending?” Pierce asked.

  “Including you, myself, and Frank, twelve in all,” Frank waved at Pierce and smiled. “We’re taking three of our vehicles, four per plus supplies. It’s going to get cozy and maybe a little smelly.” She looked over at Williams drinking a cup of water. “Since you’re new and we don’t know anything about you, you’re coming too.” Catherine pointed a finger at Williams, who choked on his water. “I’m not leaving a former Crenshaw man in my camp.”

  “Why am I being punished?” Williams asked.

  “How’s this? Come with us, or stay here in the shed unattended until we return, or we put you outside the gates? Danny just loves dealing with people trying to climb his gates. Personally, I think you’re making out on the deal.” Williams set the cup down n the road, looked at the shed for a moment and shrugged.

  “What choice do I have?”

  “You have no choices, Williams. We leave the day after tomorrow. In the morning, we need to get the vehicles prepped, figure out what we’re taking with us and then comes the gruesome bit. We’ll clear a path for the initial start of the trip, anything and I mean anything that moves, gets shot in the head. I’ll need volunteers to move some of the vehicles out there.” Catherine poked at the stew and handed the half eaten bowl of food to Frank. She excused herself, pulling the blanket around her shoulders tight, went for a walk around her village, fearing she’d never see her home again.

  * * * * *

  Grace spun the dial on the radio; Meredith, having given up long ago, sat on the couch sulking. Beverly puttered around in the kitchen. Soft knocks sounded on the door and Micah walked in; he looked embarrassed. Meredith patted the cushion next to her and he all but bounded over. He burrowed into the couch and listened to the static. His brow furrowed and he looked at Meredith.

  “No, we haven’t heard anything. Well, we have but nothing that’s going to help.” Every time Grace passed a station with even the slightest hint of a voice she stopped and pressed her ear against the speaker. “She’s been doing that for awhile now.”

  “You kids want some food?” Meredith looked at Micah who was shaking his head, his mop of hair going everywhere. “I’ll take that as a no. I’ll see if I can scrounge up some fruit. Someone had a basket of apples at the fire last night.” Beverly left the house, easing the door shut behind her.

  “I don’t get it. You turn this thing on and it’s an instant broadcast. I’ve been doing this forever and nothing,” Grace said.

  “I’m magic? Catherine would say it’s a moody beast. You have to catch it right. There’s not a lot of functioning radio towers anymore, so getting a signal is mostly luck, you need to be in range,” Meredith answered.

  “And someone needs to be broadcasting,” Micah wrote on his board.

  “I’m done for the night, I hate this radio.” Grace switched it off and plopped on the couch next to Micah. “Looks like we have a Micah sandwich.” The girls reached out and grabbed each others’ arms squeezing Micah between them he smiled and blushed and squirmed his way out. He took his shoulder bag from the floor next to the door, blew them both a kiss and went outside. He sat in the stairs and pulled out a journal and fresh pencil.

  It looks like they’re going, really really going. Down to Florida to look for the cure with the psycho Pierce who crazied himself into our camp. There’s maps and plans and a bunch of us are being left behind. There’s no way we’re going to have enough food and ammo once they take what they need. They haven’t said who’s going yet. I have a sick feeling that Catherine will be going with them. I think she believes that since she’s the leader of the village that she’s responsable. I don’t want her to go. I know my mom will keep her safe

  Meredith found an old, I think it’s old, repeating message on the radio today. A warning for everyone to stay away from the coast. From what I’ve heard, I know our team isn’t going that way. But she said something about zombies coming out of the ocean. They don’t breathe so I guess it’s possible, and really scary.

  * * * * *

  The gunshots wrecked the calm of the early morning. Micah shifted on the porch where he’d fallen asleep. Another shot rang out. He rubbed his eyes until fireworks erupted beyond the lids and sat up with his back against the railing, stretched and listened to his elbows pop. The morning was cold; Micah rubbed his arms and legs to get some warmth flowing. Sharon would be upset if she knew he fell asleep outside, again. Another shot and he was on his feet almost falling down the steps. He checked around the porch until he found the journal he’d fallen asleep working on and the pencil marking the page he stopped writing on. Micah rushed to the gate and with fingers through the links looked outside.

  “Watch yourself, kid.” Danny said. He found another target through his scope; with a squeeze of the trigger another shot fired out and brain mist mixed with the early morning fog. Micah smiled and gave him the thumbs up. Sharon walked up behind him.

  “You ok? Didn’t hear you come in.”

  Micah dug through his bag and took out the whiteboard. “I fell asleep on the porch.” He wrote in purple marker.

  “You need to stop falling asleep outside. We do have a house, small I know, but we have room.” Micah smiled and pointed outside the fence at the fallen bodies. “They must be working overtime. I can’t believe I slept through all that. Later when I’m off shift, I want you and me to have a chat.” He looked at her confused and pointed at his mouth and throat. “You can use your white board. I want to make sure you’re ok when I’m on the road.” Micah sighed and watched another trudging beast fall in a fountain of black blood and brain matter. Micah wiped the words off his white board.

  “You don’t have to go,” he wrote.

  “You see that one, Micah? Fucker was a gusher, he must have been fresh.” Danny blushed and stepped closer to the rail of the tower. “Sorry, Sharon didn’t see you down there. You want to come up?”

  “Do I want to? No. Do I have a choice? No.” Danny took the strap of the rifle off his shoulder and pushed the safety on. He stood it on the stock against the railing and started down the ladder. Sharon stroked Micah’s cheek and hair, and then started up the ladder when it was clear.

  “Do you want to come up Micah? Keep me company while I’m on shift?” Sharon called down from over the tower’s railing. A grin spread across his face and he flew up the ladder rungs. The tower was adequate for one person, but for two cramped. Micah pressed himself close to the railing with one hand grasped tight around it. He was torn, hold on and not plummet to the pavement or sketch. Sharon took aim and dropped her first target.

  “There’s so many of them out there. It’s like they know we’re going to leave. If we weren’t going it’d be easier on the ammo.” She looked back through the scope looking for the next kill when something caugh
t her eye. She moved the rifle to a new spot and changed the magnification. A man sat in a car on the median strip a good distance away. He was awake, not smoking or eating, just sitting. She watched Crowe for a moment watching the encampment with mini binoculars.

  “There’s a man out there in a car all by himself. He looks oblivious to the zombies. Should I put a warning shot through the windshield?” Micah shook his head, he took out the whiteboard and scribbled on it.

  “No more strangers.” He stuffed it back in his bag.

  “I suppose you’re right. I’ll let Catherine know when she wakes up.” Sharon looked through the scope again, but the car was gone as mysteriously as it appeared.

  * * * * *

  Frank grunted as he pushed the car down the road and Micah steered it. Frank gave it one more good push and Micah steered it off onto the shoulder and it rolled to a stop. Having grown bored in the tower Micah thought he could help Frank out on the road.

  “Why am I pushing and you driving?” Micah shrugged and smiled. He pointed back down the road at the two figures toting bodies across the road. “Ok, we got the better deal.” They walked back to the next car; Micah checked the door and it was unlocked. The black Mercedes at one time had been expensive, now it was weather worn and rusted. The windshield shattered, glass and debris spread across on the seats. Micah went to get in and he stopped. He pointed at the seat and moved around to the back to push.

  The front seat was stained; it could have been old flesh. Or burnt skin melted to the fabric, it looked tacky to touch. Frank walked over to Micah.

  “We’ll do it this way, kid.” He reached in and shifted the car into neutral. Frank pushed against the door with one hand and steered with the other. Micah put both hands on the trunk and pushed, going harder with each step until he was almost at a jog. When the time was right they both broke away from the car and watched it roll off the road and crash into a jersey barrier.