Man Eaters (6 page)

“I wish you all the best, Rope. Oh...if you think of it, you might check on old Mrs. Dumfy. She may need some help before you go.”

“Will do. Good luck, Walt.”

When he disappeared into the red camper, Dallas turned to Roper, her heart rate only now returning to normal. “Mrs. Dumfy?”

Roper wiped her sweaty palms before holstering the gun. “She’s in a wheelchair. I’ll check on her before we go, make sure she can reach all her food and water.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s the least I can do.”

Dallas watched Roper trudge back up the stairs, her shoulders now heavy with the burden of leaving someone to an indescribable fate.

For the next hour, Dallas stood watch on the porch. A dog barked in the distance. How long would it be before they came this far inland? And how come the military hadn’t told the living how to protect themselves? Were they afraid the living would turn on each other, so instead, the military turned their weapons on the living? And at what point were they beyond the point of no return?

Sitting on the top stair, the Glock laying in her lap, Dallas wondered if she would have been safer solo on the Harley. She could travel during the night. She could reach the border to Nevada in an eighth of the time it would take on a horse. She could go a great deal faster with just herself and the bike.

But she could never live with herself if she left them here. It just wasn’t in her character to turn her back on someone who needed help. That was why being a firefighter had been the perfect job for her—and she’d loved every second of it. It never mattered to what job she was assigned, she attacked it with gusto. From breaking down doors to…

Dallas slowly rose. There were tools at a fire station that would come in handy. Making a mental note to stop at a fire station when they could so safely, Dallas stood watch until the television came to life once more.

“Good news for Californians! The military research team has developed a vaccine for this virus and they will be bringing it to your homes. That’s right. Help is on the way! Since they will only inject it into those who are inside their homes, it is imperative you wait there. Behind me, you can see the map of the Bay Area, from San Francisco to the Central Valley. Already, the cities of Oakland, Berkeley, and Alameda are receiving the inoculation, with towns up and down 580 receiving treatment in order. To better facilitate this, the President is asking everyone to paint a number on their house, indicating how many people are inside. No number means no vaccine. If you just caught the tail end of this, it will be a looped recording for the next 24 hours. Should you come in contact with the infected, do not engage, but remove yourself to a safe place. Help will be there shortly.”

Dallas hit the mute button and almost wet herself when she turned and crashed into Einstein.

“They’re full of it,” Einstein said. “I don’t know what game they’re at, but they don’t have a vaccine and they sure as hell don’t have the manpower to go door-to-door administering it.”

Roper stood at the foot of the stairs. “I agree...it’s horse shit. For some reason, they want to keep tabs on the living and keep us indoors.”

“When they should be out killing the dead.” Dallas shook her head. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Who was able to sleep?”

Einstein raised his hand. “I can sleep next to railroad tracks.”

“Good to know. So, kid, what do you think of this?”

“Containment. Pure and simple. At this point, based on what we’ve seen so far, the military is every bit our enemy as the man eaters and everything they say and do is suspect.

Roper turned the television off. “I agree. We need to do the opposite of the bullshit on T.V.”

“Then I think we best get to packing our gear and be ready so at first light we can saddle the horses and get out of here.”

Roper studied the list on the table. “Smart. Every town we go near, we’ll grab whatever hasn’t been taken.” Slinging a battered Winchester rifle over her shoulder, Roper started for the front door. “I’m going to check on Mrs. Dumfy. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” Einstein said. “We should stay together.”

“We need to be on the move soon, kid. You said it yourself, they’re probably not here yet.”

Dallas grabbed a rifle. “I agree with Einstein on this. He can collect food from the pantry and get everything he thinks we’ll need. I’ll go with you.”

“But—”

“No buts, Roper. Let’s go.”

Taking off across the dark field, Dallas whispered, “Do you wonder about your family?”

Roper shook her head. “Nope. They wrote me off a long time ago. I’ve been undead to them since I was sixteen.”

“Wow. How come?”

“I’m...rebellious. I didn’t fit into their mold so they sent me here to live with my grandparents. It’s where I learned how to rope and wrangle since even before I could walk. My granddaddy taught me everything I know: how to box, shoot a rifle, wrangle cattle, barrel race. You name it.”

“Box?”

Roper chuckled. “He was a Golden Gloves boxer as a young guy. Taught every woman in the family because he believed the best defense was a strong...right hook.” She laughed and then clapped her hand over her mouth.

Dallas smiled softly. She liked her laugh. It sounded genuine, like warm honey drizzled on a latte.

“When my granddaddy died, he took a part of me with him but left a larger part of him with me. They were great people...the salt of the earth. Not a day goes by I don’t feel the loss.”

They came to a barbed wire fence that Roper put one foot on to lower, and raised the one above it to create an easy hole for Dallas to pass through.

“What do you think he’d tell you to do now?” Dallas returned the favor and helped Roper through the fence.

“You know, I asked him that last night. My granddaddy was not a fan of the American government or the press he was certain it controlled.

“Ah. Hence the ‘do the opposite’ comment.”

Roper stopped to look at Dallas and realized the deepest part of night was giving way to the light. “Do you disagree?”

“No, Rope, I don’t. I can’t get beyond the fact that they haven’t shared with us how to kill them. You’d think that would be the first step to eradication.”

Roper cocked her head. “Eradication? Maybe I should have called you Einstein.”

Dallas shrugged. “I read. A lot. There’s a lot of down time at the station. Or was. I wonder what the rest of the guys are doing.”

About ten minutes later, they made it to Mrs. Dumfy’s house; a small place that reminded Dallas of Dorothy’s house in the Wizard of Oz. The splintered house was painted blue and half of the white gutters hung useless from the roof. The front porch was in similar disrepair, with only the wheelchair ramp appearing somewhat new.

“Shit,” Roper said, crouching behind the brick mailbox pillar. “Kitchen light is on.”

“You think she’s up?”

“I have no idea. Sometimes her son stops by for breakfast before he takes to the roads again.”

“He’s a trucker?”

“Not sure what he does, really. I just know he drives to Oakland, picks…something up and delivers it here in the Tri-Valley area.”

Dallas squinted through the semi-darkness. “In that a truck over there by the barn?”

Roper squinted in the semi-darkness. “Well, that explains the light. He must have come to stay with her. That’s the kind of son he is.”

“Then let’s go back.”

Roper turned to follow but that’s when they heard it: that low, creepy moaning of the undead.

Dallas immediately pressed her back against Roper’s and raised the rifle she’d never shot. “Where did that come from?”

“Shit. Shit. Shit. The barn?”

“We’re not going in there. Let’s check the house for your neighbor and get the hell out of here.”

The moaning grew louder now, and the first voice was joined by at least four others.

“There’s more than one.”

Roper picked up a rock and threw it near the truck. She could barely make out the taillights and bumper on it, but she knew it was the kind of truck that often carried hay. It had wooden slats about seven feet high and a gate-like hatch on the back. Mrs. Dumfy’s son, Neville, had always used it to take the free hay her granddaddy always gave them.

When the rock landed, the moaning got louder but didn’t seem mobile.

“Are they in the barn?” Dallas asked, straining to hear.

“I can’t tell.”

“How the hell did they get out here so fast?”

“No clue. Let’s just go around back and look in the windows. If she’s fine, we’ll do what we came to do.”

“And if she’s not?”

“Run like hell.” Moving to the back of the small house, Roper whispered, “I really gotta show you how to shoot that thing. Until then, I’ll take point.”

As they maneuvered down the side of the house, Dallas got a flash of something from the corner of her eye. It came from the bed of the truck, like it had reflected the light from the kitchen.

“I think there’s something in the back of the truck,” Dallas whispered.

“Okay. I’ll take one look into the house, and then we’re outta here.” Roper looked through the kitchen window and saw Mrs. Dumfy sitting in her wheelchair watching T.V., her back to the window.

“She’s in there...watching T.V.” Roper cupped her eyes and peered back in. “There’s her son. He’s...” Pushing herself away from the window so quickly, Roper fell backwards. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

Dallas didn’t need to look to know. Instead, she yanked Roper to her feet and pulled her back toward the field just as the remnants of darkness gave way to just enough light that she could see eight Hispanic man eaters banging on the sides of the truck from inside the bed.

“Run like hell!” She yelled, shoving Roper forward. They ran as fast as they could, crouching to slip between the barbed wire, until they reached Roper’s house.

Einstein was immediately at the bottom of the steps. “What happened?”

“They’re...they’re...here.”

“What? There’s no way. Not unless they can drive, and we know—” He stopped when he realized how heavily both were breathing.

Roper was bent over, hands on knees, trying desperately to slow down her breathing. “My neighbor...sometimes collects...immigrants...for yard work...” She held up her hand while she finally caught her breath. “One of them must have been bitten by a man eater when they were in the truck.”

Dallas swore under her breath. “My guess is he didn’t know he was carrying the infected until he got out to let them out. He must have been bitten before he could let them out.”

“So he went in search of the easiest prey—a woman in a wheelchair.” Roper stepped to the side and vomited in the rose bushes. “He...he was eating her face when we looked in.”

“Oh crap. Oh man, Roper. I am so sorry.”

She wiped the tears from her eyes and stood up taller. “We gotta go. Now. It’s only a matter of time before those things break out of the truck. Those slats aren’t that strong.” Roper moved with a sense of purpose now. “Dallas, help me with the horses. Einstein, bring all the food and weapons to the barn and anything else you collected.” Without waiting for a reply, Roper took off for the barn, followed closely behind by Dallas.

In the barn, they saddled up four horses, the fourth to use as a pack animal to carry their food and supplies.

Einstein had to make several trips back and forth before completing his task while Roper saddled each horse and checked each horse’s hooves. Dallas moved her Harley into the barn and went through her saddlebags to remove tools, sunglasses, gloves, bungee cords, and a first aid kit.

No one spoke as they each completed their task as quietly as they could. Every five minutes, Roper would glance in the direction of Mrs. Dumfy’s house before continuing with the horses. When she finished, the packhorse was ready and three other horses stood patiently waiting to ride.

“Let’s do some quick introductions. This beige beauty is Gwen. Einstein, you can ride her.”

Einstein walked up and gently patted the horse’s cheek. “So soft.”

Roper stared at him. “You’ve never pet a horse?”

He blushed as he shook his head. “I’m a city kid...at least, I was. Not quite sure what I am today, though.”

Handing Dallas reins to a dapple-grey mare, Roper said, “This is Morgana. She isn’t as calm as Gwen, but as long as you act like you’re the boss, she won’t give you fits.”

Dallas put her hands on the horse’s neck and smiled. “She’s gorgeous.”

“Yes she is and she knows it.” Roper tied the fourth horse behind Einstein and Gwen. The horse was white with a few patches of black here and there. “This is Lance. He’s one of the horses I use for roping. The black beauty over there is—”

“Merlin,” Dallas said. “You’ve named them after Arthurian folklore.”

Roper beamed. “Well done, Dallas. Yes, one of my all-time favorite books is Mists of Avalon. I named all my horses after characters.”

After a short briefing on how to ride a horse, Roper shoved two rifles on either side of each horse for a total of eight rifles. She kept one slung across her back, her rope attached to her belt, her Smith and Wesson, and her Buck knife. She reminded Dallas of a western Lara Croft.

Once astride their horses, Roper led them from the barn and up into the foothills just as the sunlight peeked over the hills. When they reached the first peak, about half a mile from Roper’s house, she turned her horse back for one last look.

What she saw froze her blood.

“They got out,” Dallas whispered, watching the man eaters half walking, half limping into the barbed wire fence they couldn’t figure out how to get through.

“That pretty much says all we need to know.”

Reaching over in the saddle, Dallas touched Roper’s elbow. “I’m so sorry.”

Turning Merlin’s head to the left, Roper waved her off. “Nothing we can do about it now. Our job is to stay alive, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

Pulling up behind her, Dallas wondered just how hard it would be to accomplish that feat.”

****

They rode for an hour in silence until Einstein said he really had to go to the bathroom. When he came back, he saw a couple of soda cans and a bottle sitting on various branches of a small tree.