The Dead Road: The Complete Collection (11 page)

I stewed as I watched them, a white-hot rage boiling up in my stomach. Part of me wanted to put my rifle to my shoulder and pick them off, one at a time, like an army sniper. My hands tightened on the binoculars as I watched them. They were so casual, laughing and talking, kicking their heels against the front tires of the SUVs, all the while they had Amy locked in some bedroom or in their basement. I could imagine her, screaming for help, while these animals played catch on the front lawn. I lowered the binoculars and scooted down the hill, making my way back to the Jeep.

*****

I came down the hill, half jogging, half limping, my toes curling in the boots to try to keep my foot from sliding back and forth. Eli had turned the Jeep around, facing back down the trail rather than the impassable spot, and Roger was sitting in the back, shotgun in his lap, facing the way I had gone. He waved to me as I came down the hill, then tapped Eli on the shoulder to start the Jeep. They both looked relieved as I approached. I grinned. "Happy to see me?"

Roger stood up in the back, "Hell yes. Eli here was ready to write you off as zombie food. My money was on 'Redneck Prisoner.'"

I climbed up into the Jeep. "Don't joke about redneck prisoners. Amy's still up there."

Eli put the Jeep in gear and started the slow descent down the trail with Roger and I in the back. "So did you find anything, man?"

"A few things. First, yeah, they're up there. They have the street blocked by a pair of SUVs with two guys on guard duty. Behind them, I'd guess a house or two up the road, I saw smoke rising above the trees. It was just a thin line of it, burning white. That says fireplace to me, or maybe a wood stove or a cooking fire. Either way, that's got to be the Birch Street survivor's fortress."

Roger nodded in agreement, "Two guys to watch for walking corpses, with some way to signal up to the house, or maybe a spot to fall back to."

"That's what I was thinking. They have the SUVs there as a makeshift barricade, and probably something more substantive at the house. The street is situated on a hill. The left side is all downward slope, down to where we are now, while the right is all sloped upward. Good vantage to keep eyes on the most likely approach."

Eli looked at me in the rear-view mirror. "What else, man? You said first."

"Oh, right. The corpses are attracted to the smell of urine."

Eli smirked. Roger blinked and shook his head, a smile on his face. "Do I even want to know how you figured out this tidbit?"

I chuckled. The words didn't sound ridiculous in my head, but once I said them I could see why the other two were amused. "I was heading up the hill and I had to take a piss, so I pulled up to a tree and watered it. I'm up at the top of the hill a little while when I hear one of them coming my way, groaning like they do when they are chasing prey, but she, I mean, it, didn't come for me. It went right to the tree I watered, and kept wandering around it, looking for whatever made the mess. I was able to walk right up to it and bury my axe in its head and it barely noticed I was coming."

Roger drummed his fingers on the shotgun while he thought. "That kind of supports the theory that they hunt by scent. Also explains how so many of them converged on our campsite in the dark."

"It also means that stronger scents throw them off if they associate them with food. So I bet places like supermarkets, full of rotting meat once the power goes out, are going to be swarming with these things, while the remote areas will empty out."

Eli nodded emphatically, "Makes the winter cabin plan look awesome right about now. And we should stock up on even more before things get really crazy out there."

I smirked. "You mean they're not really crazy already? But seriously, we get Amy, we get out into the woods, we don't look back until spring."

The Jeep bumped along the trail and onto the road once again. In the distance we could hear the moaning and hissing of a crowd of walking corpses coming our way, still lured by the scent of three men sweating in an open-top Jeep. Roger looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "I still don't hear a plan to rescue Amy."

I smiled to myself. "I have one." I peered down the hill through the binoculars, catching sight of the first stragglers of the group. I smiled a little wider. "And it involves them. Eli, drive down their way, but once you get within a hundred yards turn around and drive off again. Let's give them a fresh dose of our scent."

Eli turned the Jeep around, heading slowly down the hill towards the oncoming crowd. "You sure, man?"

"Positive."

As we got closer we could see a renewed vigor enter the corpses at the front of the pack. Their moans got louder, their arms rose, outstretched towards us, their eyes widening, their mouths hanging open. Eli stopped the Jeep, watching them. I put my hand on his shoulder. "OK brother, sit tight, let them come towards us. Once they get close back away, turn us around, and head back towards 67." He nodded, his hands tight on the steering wheel, knuckles going white as he clenched his fists. "Roger, grab one of the gallon jugs of water and start drinking."

Roger raised an eyebrow. "You intend to lure them with our piss, don't you?"

I grinned. "Drink up."

*****

Eli let one of them touch the hood of the Jeep before he shot us backwards, pulling a tight bootlegger turn on the open road. I watched the monsters howl in frustration as we left them behind, their primitive brains only registering that we were so close an instant ago, but now far out of reach once again. Their steps, while still awkward and shambling, seemed quicker, their desire to pursue reawakened by the near miss. I pulled out the map, re-examining the contours of the hills around Birch Street, tracing my fingers over the lines that represented roads, rivers, and altitude changes.

The Jeep skidded to a halt at the intersection, Route 67 stretching to either side. "Where to now, man?"

I looked up from the map, then back and forth. "Left. We're looking for Howe Street. Should be on the left."

Roger lowered the water jug with a loud exhale. "I don't think I can drink any more right now."

I nodded, tucking the map away and taking the jug from him. "I know we're dehydrated as hell, so give it a bit." I then started to drink, tipping the jug back to let the lukewarm liquid pour down my throat. The water had a vaguely plastic aftertaste, and was a bit stale, but somehow was the best water I'd ever tasted. I drank deeply, timing my swallows so that a steady stream poured down my throat and into my stomach. I didn't realize how thirsty I was until I swallowed down that first mouthful.

I lowered the jug when I ran out of breath, taking a loud gulp of air and exhaling with a satisfied grunt. "Holy shit that's good. Eli, pull over and drink your fill."

Eli ran his tongue over his cracked lips and nodded, pulling over almost immediately so that he could have his chance at the water. I handed him the jug and let him chug as much as he wanted. We had put some distance between us and the corpses so I didn't say anything as we passed the jug back and forth, each drinking until we could barely stand another swallow. In a matter of minutes the jug was empty. I smiled at Eli, "OK, Howe Street. Let's go." As he put the Jeep in gear I looked behind us, watching the distant reaches of the road. For a moment I thought I heard a groan carried on the wind, but I dismissed it as my imagination.

We parked at the corner of Howe and Route 67 a few minutes later. We had gone uphill the whole way, and the trees had gotten more dense and abundant the further we got from the center of Stockton, making it impossible to see very far in any direction. "So what are we doing here, man?" Eli asked.

I fished around in the back and pulled a six-pack of beer from the bottom of the pile. I was going to pull the collection of brown glass bottles out of the Jeep to make room for more practical supplies, but I allowed Eli this one indulgence. Now I found myself happy I did. "Drink up. Two each."

Roger groaned, patting his stomach. "Ugh, Alex, the idea of putting away two beers on an empty stomach? Not good. I'm going to be useless."

"Then pour it out. It's not the beer that matters, but the bottles."

Eli gasped. "Pour it out? That's probably the last six of that stuff we're ever going to see, man! Maybe the last in the world! Not like we can get imported beer anymore!"

Roger's eyes lit up with a glimmer of recognition. "You're going to make Molotov cocktails. Grain alcohol in glass bottles..."

I grinned. "Not quite. Howe Road curves to the left further up, almost to the point where it touches Birch. The reason it doesn't is we're about a hundred feet up. We cut through the woods or yards or whatever is between us and Birch, find the rock walls that overlook the street below, and toss the bottles into the road."

"What's that going to do?"

"We piss in them first. Make urine bombs."

Eli chuckled, "That's funny, man, but other than get the guys wet and funky, what good is it? That's like a college prank, not a rescue mission."

Roger looked at me in horror. "You mean to bring the zombies to their doorstep. A screaming, ravenous horde of them as a distraction."

I nodded, my expression grim. "Yeah, that's exactly what I plan to do."

"That's inhuman, Alex. That's fucked up beyond anything else. They're people, Alex. We can't just feed them to the monsters."

"It's a distraction. The horde starts coming, they sound their alarms, move to the front of the house to mount a defense. That lets us sneak in the back, grab Amy, and go. Once we're clear we come back up here to the jeep and haul ass, heading north, and we don't look back. We go back up to the campsite, find an empty lodge somewhere, and ride out the rest of the year. Listen guys, their defenses will hold. They have their shit together, and I'm sure they've fought off stuff like this before. It's a diversion tactic, that's all."

The truth was I had no idea how well they could defend against a mass of hundreds of those things. It didn't matter to me. I hated these men, these savages that would kidnap a woman and drag her back to their house under duress. The way I saw it, they had given up their claim to human decency, and therefore were just animals themselves. Animals to be led to the slaughter. Even if they wound up turned, forced into an eternal waking death, I didn't care. What were a dozen more monsters in the scope of thousands?

Roger looked at me skeptically. I think he saw the hardness in my eyes. He could see that nothing was going to change my mind. "What'd they do to deserve this, Alex?"

"They don't play well with others. They took shots at us. They were content to leave us for dead, so we may as well return the favor."

"Leave us for dead? Alex, they were shooting wildly. It was a warning at best."

"Yeah? A warning that put out one of our tires. If we didn't have a spare, then what? We were as good as dead without wheels to get us around. We can't survive out here on foot. So, yeah, maybe they were just shooting wildly, but they could have hit us just as easily as they hit the tire. But what happens next time? What happens when we cross paths with one of them when we're out hunting for food, our scrounging for supplies? It's us or them, Roger, so, I choose us, and I am making that choice before they get the chance to. We'll never have any sort of advantage again, so we may as well use it."

Eli nodded emphatically. "Fuckin' A, man! This is our chance to even the score. They fucked with us, so we gotta fuck with them! Show'em we can hold our own."

Roger looked out onto the road, then shook his head. "You're both crazy, but you're right. They're not going to just let us alone. Eventually they'll find a reason to come at us. May as well knock them down a peg while we can. But for the record I still don't like it."

I opened the first bottle of beer and handed it to him. "We're going to have to do a lot of things we don't like if we're going to make it in this world, Roger. May as well start now."

The first bottle shattered against the pavement with a crash, spreading a puddle across the blacktop that glistened in the afternoon sun. We stood on the edge of the rocks, looking down onto the road below. Eli tested the cap on the next bottle, making sure it was still tight, and heaved it into the air, aiming further down the road. We couldn't see where it landed, but we heard the bottle break with a soft pop. Eli gave a self-satisfied nod. "Still got the arm. All those years playing right field finally paid off, man."

I chuckled a little, then handed the last bottle to him. "Aim this one further up. We want to make sure the monsters get most of the way up to the house before they reach the end of the trail. If they're close enough they might abandon the puddles to chase fresh food."

Roger leaned against the side of the Jeep and shook his head. "Never thought we'd be using bottles full of piss as weapon."

The last bottle crashed through the branches, and we heard it break with a muffled tinkle of glass. Then we heard a sound that made our hearts skip a beat and our blood turn to ice - the distinct sound of a shotgun cocking.

We turned in unison, looking to our left, to the source of the sound. There, about twenty feet away, straddling a mountain bike, was a boy, probably only sixteen or seventeen years old, with short blonde hair and a dirty t-shirt, holding a pump action shotgun against his shoulder, aimed directly at us. "Hands up, fuckers!" he blurted out, his voice wavering with nerves.

We slowly lifted our hands above our shoulders. I took a tentative step forward. He aimed the shotgun at my chest.

"Easy there," I said, my tone even and calm, "no need for that."

"What are you throwing? Why are you up here?"

"Just... bottles of old beer. It skunked. Went bad, you know? We were just tossing it off the side cause we could."

"Bullshit! He said they were bottles of piss!"

I cursed inwardly. "Well..." I fumbled my words, trying to look for an explanation.

He tightened his grip on the shotgun, "I should fucking kill you! The zombies can smell piss a mile away! Are..." I could see the realization sinking in, the barrel of the shotgun dipping slightly as he through about it, his guard lowering. "Are you... luring them... to us?"

"No, it's not like that--"

He snarled and took aim again. Roger pushed off of the Jeep and ran at the kid. The shotgun swung towards him. He lowered his shoulder and tackled him, hitting the boy full in the stomach. They fell backward. The shotgun went off, sending a blast into the air above our heads. Roger took the kid down with him in a heap, the bike tangling about their legs. Eli and I took advantage and charged forward. I grabbed at the shotgun, the kid flailing and thrashing against us both. He was wiry and strong, and Roger was struggling to keep him on the ground. Eli grabbed our shotgun out of the Jeep and ran over to us, lowering it right in the kid's face. The boy went limp, staring up into that cavernous barrel. I grabbed his shotgun and pulled it from his hands. Roger stood up, leaving the kid on the ground. legs still tangled in his bike. Tears welled in his eyes, "You fuckers better kill me."

Eli clicked the safety off. "Yeah? Why's that?"

"You think I'm gonna stay quiet? You're trying to kill us all! Making the zombies come right at us! You let me go and we're going to hunt you like dogs. I'll tell my father and we won't sleep till we have your carcasses hanging in the trees!"

Eli's hands shook. He looked at Roger. Roger shook his head just a little. I swallowed, then said "We can trade him. He's leverage, Eli. We can tie him up and bring him down to the house, especially if his father is there, you know? We can trade him his son."

The kid looked back and forth between us, then grinned. "You guys are the assholes from this morning, aincha? The ones in front of Stapleton's! You want your piece of ass back!"

My lips curled in a silent snarl. "Her name is Amy."

"What the fuck ever. Like I care what her name is."

Eli tensed, pushing the barrel of the shotgun against the kid's cheek.

"You're gutless!" the kid spat. "You ain't gonna shoot me. That's why we got your girl. You're just gutless punks! You ain't gonna last two days in this world. I already killed more people than I can count!"

Eli pushed the barrel harder against his face. "Shut the fuck up, man!"

In the distance we heard the sound of a car door closing, and an engine starting. The kid grinned.

"That's Dad now. He knows where I went. He heard the shot. Now he's coming to kill you retards." I growled and kicked the kid in the ribs. He grunted and twisted, holding his chest. "Fuck you, zombie bait!" he wheezed out.

I leaned down and punched him, an arcing blow that smashed into the side of his face and snapped his head to the side. His eyes fluttered and rolled back, and he went limp. I stood back up. "Quick, toss him in the Jeep and let's move."

Eli stayed where he was, standing over the kid's unconscious form. "No, man, we gotta kill him."

Roger gasped, "What? He's just a kid!"

"You heard him, man! They're going to hunt us! He'll tell them what we did and they'll chase us all year! We can't get far enough away on what gas we got left! We'll hole up for the winter and they'll find us and kill us!"