All Together Now: A Zombie Story (18 page)

He moaned in a way that still sounded human.

"I tried, Chuck. I got you off the road and got you food. I kept you from the... I tried to keep you safe.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Chuck, I'm sorry."

"If there's a heaven, you're going there. And Dad will be there. You tell him I tried. You tell him I—"

Chuck coughed and red drops spattered his cheeks.

"Tell Dad I tried to keep you safe."

Chuck coughed again. He coughed so hard his eyes opened and looked into mine, but I couldn't tell if he was behind them or not.

He thrashed and coughed.

"Chuck?"

He slowed, stopped.

And the van grew so, so quiet.

71

WHEN I HEARD CHUCK SITTING up, I opened the van door and stepped out, closing it behind me.

His face appeared in the door's window, his eyes all white, his spittle covering the inside of the glass.

Keep him safe, Ricky.

"Hang on, Chuck," I said. "I've got a plan."

He banged against the van's window with both hands as I walked away. I headed straight for the open doors of Wal-Mart.

I noticed the body parts. I know I did. I had to because I stepped around them.

I even remember recognizing the zombie from the night before, who'd sat beside a dumpster snarling because his left leg was missing and his right was shredded. He'd had to drag himself toward us.

His dragging days were over. Someone must've put a blunt object through the front of his skull as there was a cave-in just above his eyes. He lay still.

There were no zombies in front of Wal-Mart or around it, only severed limbs and still corpses strewn across the parking lot.

That should've caught my attention more than it did.

I marched straight through Wal-Mart's doors, past the register, and up the main aisle toward sporting goods and pet supplies. The power was on and the dreary warehouse lights dimly lit merchandise the way they'd done 24 hours a day for forever.

I passed electronics. The TV's all had blue screens indicating a loss of signal. Super Mario was ready for the next player at the video-game demo stand.

I wasn't sure they'd even have one, but I found five catchpoles on a top shelf in pet supplies. They weren't much: hollow metal poles with looped cable trailing out both ends.

I only needed one.

"Michelle?" I called. "Levi?"

No response.

The checkout aisles at the front were lit as though there were employees hiding someplace, ready to take their posts and ring up my catchpole.

The rest of the world had gone to hell, but this Wal-Mart was perfectly preserved waiting for future archeologists to find it hundreds of years from now like a sealed sarcophagus. The contents of an Indiana Wal-Mart would tell them all they ever needed to know about our civilization.

I heard a metallic click directly behind me that I didn't realize was the cocking of a gun until a reedy male voice said, "That's far enough, now. Turn around. Slowly."

72

I TURNED AROUND. SLOWLY.

The man holding the gun had a greasy blonde mullet and a ripped T-shirt proclaiming the name of some heavy metal band I'd never heard of. It had to be heavy metal because the lettering was a combination of steel and lightning.

Beside him stood a man in jean shorts and an enormous blue jersey that was still somehow tight on him. I wondered how on earth he'd managed to avoid zombies when he was so fat.

I thought of Levi's mother and the manager of Tony Sty's Pizza Pies and the many fat zombies we'd seen. I thought of all the fat Americans trying diets and abandoning them and getting fatter and fatter, all the while promising themselves they'd eventually lose the weight.

They needed to be able to run when the zombies came, not whenever they got around to it.

The fat man held a machete, and that made me laugh. I doubted he could swing it more than once or twice without needing to rest.

"Something funny?" Mullet asked.

"Not particularly," I said.

"This is our place," Mullet said. "You and your friends ain't wanted."

"It's our Wal-Mart now." The fat man raised his machete.

That made me laugh harder.

To my left, Michelle and Levi were standing among the racks of women's clothes with their hands in the air. Pointing rifles at them were a fat woman and a teenage girl in a too-low and too-tight tank top she was spilling out of.

Behind them were four kids.

I don't know where these bumpkins lived before they established their dominion over Wal-Mart, but I'll bet you my last can of tuna it had wheels on it.

"What you got there, boy?"

"A catchpole," I said. "If you want one, there's four more in pets. This one's mine."

Mullet sneered. "What if I was to shoot you in the head and take it?"

"I wouldn't feel right about that," the girl with the all-but-visible breasts said, motioning the barrel of her rifle toward Levi. "This one's Christian."

I wondered if she was literate enough to read the lettering on Levi's T-shirt or if she just recognized the white cross.

"Shut up, Maureen," Mullet said, never taking his eyes off me.

"You're going to shoot a 15-year-old in the head over a catchpole?" I asked.

"If that's how old you are," the fat man said.

"My little brother is waiting outside. He's six, he's hurt, and he's alone. I'm leaving. I'm taking my friends and this catchpole. The rest of this Wal-Mart is all yours."

"Who you think is in charge here?" Mullet asked.

I turned and walked toward the front doors.

Behind me, Mullet fired his gun.

73

THE PLASTIC LIGHT-UP BOX at the end of a checkout aisle exploded.

I didn't turn back. I was seven feet at best from Mullet. If he wanted to kill me, he would've.

The shot had been intended to intimidate me and I wasn't going to let it. Not with Chuck waiting outside.

Keep him safe, Ricky.

I kept walking.

I turned back once at the doors. Mullet, the fat woman, and Maureen all had their firearms trained on me, but none of them fired. Michelle and Levi were walking as fast as they could to catch up.

I marched through Wal-Mart's glass doors out onto the parking lot, stepping around the dismembered parts of re-killed zombies.

I headed straight toward the van, then stopped when a thought occurred to me.

I waited for Michelle and Levi. "Did they get our gun?"

Michelle smiled and shook her head. "How's Chuck?"

"He's fine. Let me see the gun."

Michelle and Levi were both wearing backpacks and she thrust a third at me. I took it.

Michelle reached beneath her shirt and handed me our gun. I had no intention of using it. I just didn't want anybody else using it.

"I got something special," Levi said, patting his backpack.

I didn't care what the special something was. I ran the rest of the way to the van.

Chuck was so excited to see me, he pressed his face against the window and snarled.

"Oh no," Michelle said.

Levi swore.

"Hi Chuck," I said. "Are you ready to go?"

"What are you—"

Before Levi finished, I flung the van door open.

Chuck reached out as if to embrace me.

I thrust the end of the catchpole and struck him in the head hard enough to knock him back.

Chuck growled, more in alarm than anything else. While he was stunned, I slipped the catchpole's cable loop over his head and around his neck.

I pressed the pole forward until the cable was tight enough to hold Chuck in place, but hopefully not tight enough to choke him, and locked it.

With the catchpole in place, I could hold Chuck at bay the way animal control would hold a rabid animal. I pushed him backward until he sat on the floor and I held him there.

Chuck was stronger than he'd ever been and he reached for me with all the strength he had. But even dead, even unconcerned about his own safety, even motivated by his hunger for my flesh, he was still only six years old.

I held him.

I turned back to Michelle and Levi, who were both staring at me as though I'd lost my mind.

"What are you waiting for? Get in, let's go."

Levi shook his head. "I ain't going anywhere with that thing."

"He's not a thing," I said. "He's a boy and he was just fine before he met you and your church."

Michelle held up a hand. "Ricky, maybe—"

"We're going to Kirkman Soda," I said. "They should be able to make Chuck well. Until then, I'll hold him. You just drive."

"Forget it," Levi said. "Keep the van. I'll find another."

I sighed.

Everything the hard way.

I kept one hand on the catchpole—all I needed, really—and pointed our gun at Levi's head with the other. "That's not going to work. I need you to drive us."

"Ricky, what are you doing!?!"

"It's okay, Michelle. I got this."

Chuck snarled and lunged for me. I shoved the catchpole, knocking him back against the van door without ever lowering the gun.

"Get in. Let's go."

74

LEVI WALKED AROUND THE FRONT of the van. I kept the gun trained on him. I don't think he would've left us, even if I hadn't threatened him.

I'm mostly sure I wouldn't have shot him.

But Levi didn't know that.

Michelle climbed in the passenger seat, never taking her eyes off Chuck or me. She looked at us as though we'd both become zombies.

"Where's Kirkman Soda?" Levi asked.

"Harrington. Michelle knows the way."

Levi glared at me in the rearview mirror.

"Ricky," Michelle said. "I know you're upset. But you don't—" Blah, blah, blah.

She said a whole bunch of stuff, but I wasn't listening. I was watching Chuck.

His eyes were all white and his skin had gone very pale. He moaned and reached for me, fingers clawing.

I knew if it weren't for the catchpole between us he'd dig his tiny fingers into my chest and crack my ribs apart so he could eat my heart without ever once thinking of me as his big brother.

To him, I was just meat.

If I should drop the catchpole and let Chuck bite me, I'd be like him.

I'd forget Michelle had saved my life. I'd forget she'd taken care of Chuck and me when we most needed her.

I'd forget I didn't really want to hurt Levi.

They'd be meat to me and I'd bite into them just as surely as Chuck was struggling against the catchpole to bite us. And then we'd all be the same and would that really be so bad?

I wouldn't hurt anymore. I wouldn't remember that I was supposed to keep Chuck safe. I wouldn't remember Dad or Ben or anybody.

I wouldn't ever have to think again.

Oh, what peace we often forfeit. Oh, what needless pain we bear.

Keep him safe, Ricky.

The van turned and Michelle said, "Harrington is that way!"

I grazed the back of Levi's ear with the barrel of the gun. "What are you doing?"

"You think you can drive this van and keep your brother from eating your face?" Levi said. "Go ahead and shoot me. I told you I got something special. We're going to make an unscheduled stop."

I poked Levi with the gun. "We're going to Kirkman's."

Seeing I was distracted, Chuck lunged. I had to slap both hands to the catchpole to keep him down.

I glanced back at Levi and saw the truth on his face. He knew I wasn't going to shoot him.

"We'll get to your thing soon enough," Levi said. "But I got something I need to do first."

I looked out the window and vaguely recognized the scenery.

"Where are we going?" Michelle asked.

"Ask him," I said, tucking our gun in the back of my jeans so I could focus my full attention on Chuck. "He's driving."

75

LEVI DROVE US AS FAR as the gravel road leading back to New Life Christian Church before the van's engine revved, sputtered, and died. The van rolled to a stop.

"What are you doing?" Michelle asked.

Levi held his hands up. "I'm not doing anything. We're out of gas." He tapped the dial on the dash.

"I guess we walk from here," Levi said. He ran around to the rear of the van and opened the back doors.

"What are you doing?"

Levi lifted the carpeted lining of the van's flooring and removed the tire iron. He smiled at me and took off running.

Michelle jumped out after him. "Where are you going?" she called.

I opened the van door and slid out, allowing Chuck to shamble after me. When he came to the step down from the van he reached for me and fell on his face.

"Easy, Chuck," I said. I'd let go of the catchpole when he fell. I picked it up and used it to guide my brother back to his feet.

He had gravel dust on his pants and forearms. I wanted to brush him off, but if I got any closer than the catchpole would allow we'd both be zombies and then who would lead us to Kirkman's?

Levi was running far ahead and Michelle was running after him. I would've followed, but I had Chuck.

I walked slowly backward, remembering how much trouble the gravel had given Brother Mordecai and wanting Chuck to take as much time as he needed to learn to walk again.

The fields on either side of the gravel road were clear for miles. There was a farmhouse in the distance, but it looked empty. The sun was bright, insects were buzzing, and it was turning out to be a perfect day for a walking lesson.

He stumbled a few times, but Chuck never fell. Brother Mordecai had been older when he turned, and maybe that made a difference in coordination. I don't know.

But after a bit, Chuck was coming along so smoothly I didn't have to pull him. As an experiment, I dropped the catchpole and walked a few steps ahead.

The pole dragged in the gavel, but it didn't slow Chuck down. He lurched after me like any zombie on the prowl. He was slow, but so long as he could see a walking meal ahead, he was motivated.