The Reanimation of Edward Schuett (30 page)

“I didn’t say anything like that,” Edward said.

“You didn’t need to. Just remember, you better mind your fucking manners around here. We don’t like fucking rude people, got it?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Good for you. Now look here. I got to go run and have someone report to my super that you came wandering in here, but for now you can go get yourself something to eat and the boss will be by to talk to you in a while, got it? Just head on down Arena Street here until you actually get to the arena. Right across the street you’ll see a building with a sign that says it belongs to Stupid Jerry. You go in there and tell them Bert sent you in and you need the Dumbass Wanderer special. You got all that?”

Edward nodded that he did, not because he actually understood any of it but simply because the guy was starting to give him the creeps. He supposed that would have been rather funny, a zombie being creeped out by someone, if he didn’t think that mentioning the joke out loud would get him killed.

He followed the directions Bert had given him. Stupid Jerry’s turned out to be what passed for a diner in this town, and the Dumbass Wanderer special was something the establishment had worked out with the Laramie security forces. They would feed the occasional human that ended up this far out (almost never on purpose) and the security people would foot the bill. That didn’t mean the waitress at Stupid Jerry’s was happy to serve him, nor did it mean the food they served him much resembled food. The special consisted of some soft substance (possibly mashed potatoes) mixed with meat (rabbit was Edward’s best guess) and some kind of sauce (which was pretty much unidentifiable) all served on a ceramic plate which, through some miracle of previously unknown chemistry, was somehow rusty.

Edward did his best to force it all down as though he were exactly as starved as he had claimed. The potatoes threatened to come up, but the meat worked just fine for him. The sauce, which tasted like little more than maple syrup heavily seasoned with pepper, made him think that pretty soon he might recreate his early CRS pants accidents.

He was just finishing it up when Bert came through the door with a short but very muscular man in a duster and a cowboy hat. Edward had to look again to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, but the man was real enough. The hat looked practically new, but the duster was ripped in many places and pretty well shredded where its too-long length dragged on the floor.

“Hello there!” the man said as he walked up to Edward’s rickety table. He had an enormous smile on his face and stuck out his hand for Edward to shake before he’d even come fully through the door. “Bert here told me your name is Edward. That correct? And he also told me you’re here from the C-R-S.” He said the three letters slowly, as though he were pronouncing them for the first time in his life.

“Um, yes, but I wasn’t really supposed to end up here.”

“Yes, yes, Bert told me all about that also. Tell you what, I’m going to join you and sit down. Do you mind if I sit down Edward?”

Edward was starting to think that he did mind, that there was something not quite right about the way this guy was going on, but he didn’t think it would be a good idea to say no.

The man took a seat. “I suppose I should tell you my name, especially since I hope we become really good friends, Edward. Name’s Billy Horton. I run security for a good chunk of Laramie.”

Edward nodded. “I’m sorry, did you say friends?”

“I did indeed, Edward, I did indeed. Would you like that?”

“Um…”

“Now, now, don’t go answering that just yet. Don’t go jumping the gun. I think I should like to talk to you a little bit first. Can we talk?”

The problem, as Edward saw it, was not whether or not he could talk but whether or not Horton could ever stop. Edward didn’t know quite what he was going to do yet, but he did know he needed to do it quick. He highly doubted Liddie could overheat in the van, and he was pretty confident she couldn’t escape, but the idea of her out there alone was making him nervous.

“Sure,” Edward said.

“That’s good. Real good. I’ll cut to the chase, because we don’t like wasting time around here, you know what I mean? Bert said something about you wanting a way back to Denver. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what. I’ve got a truck that maybe I can give you completely free of charge and you can get right on back there right away. You like the sound of that?”

Edward forced himself to keep his mouth from dropping open. That sounded perfect. Too perfect. “Yes, that would be so great. But…”

“But what, Edward?”

“It just seems to me that Laramie might be the kind of place that needs any vehicle it can get.”

“Well, every place is like that, isn’t it? But we’ll be willing to give one up maybe, that is if you can give us something in return.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have much. I’ve got some pay cards.”

“We don’t want your plastic pay things, Edward. No one real uses those things. But you do have access to something we need. You see, I’m not just part of the security forces around here. I’m also a business owner. I’m a thriving business owner. Too thriving. What I sell, people buy, but I don’t have as much to sell as I used to. And that’s where you come in, my very good friend. I think I could use someone who works for a place like the C-R-S as a, why don’t we call it a business partner?”

This wasn’t good, but Edward thought it couldn’t hurt too much to play along at the moment. He needed to get that truck, and the sooner the better.

“I’m listening. What kind of business?”

“I’m in the entertainment business, Edward. Did you see that place across the street when you came in?”

“Um, yeah. Bert called it the Arena.” He’d seen it, but he hadn’t been sure what it was supposed to be. From the outside it just looked like a big round building, about two stories high and taking up a whole city block.

“That’s what it is, all right. And in that Arena we keep people happy. They’ll pay the big bucks to go in and watch even when they don’t have the big bucks.”

“Some kind of sports thing?” Edward asked.

“Oh hell yeah, biggest and best sport in the world, Edward. Killing fucking zeds.”

Edward tried not to let any of his horror show on his face. “You know, I think I’ve heard of other places that do that.”

“But no other place is anywhere good as mine. You should see some of the setups I have. I have this giant saw I made, yes? And it spins around and around and drops down onto the zed. Great stuff, you’d think, yeah? Except the way I have it set up, it doesn’t cut all the way through the zed. It slices them all the way from groin to the base of their neck. Never touches the head, so they’re pretty much split in half but they’re still moving! It’s a classic!”

Edward felt the Dumbass Wanderer special trying to come up again, although this time he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop it. “I’m afraid I still don’t understand. What does this have to do with me?” He half expected Billy Horton to scream that he wanted Edward to be the next attraction in his show and jump at him from across the table. Edward was suddenly painfully aware of the grainy photo that most of America had seen. His only hope was that these people didn’t even have television, or at least were too busy watching their formerly living citizens get ripped apart to bother watching the news.

“Well, I’ll tell you something, Edward. There used to be a time when the fucking zeds were ankle deep around here. As I’m sure you saw on your long hike here, that’s not so much anymore. And if I want to continue offering fine quality entertainment, I need more zeds. And that’s something I hear maybe this C-R-S might just have.”

“I’m not so sure they would be so easy for me to get.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be putting your job on the line and all. I can get why you might be hesitant. But I pay top dollar. Usually I use real money, but I just know I could get some of that plastic monies you have.”

Edward wanted to reach across the table and punch this guy in the face, but this sounded like the kind of deal he could fake easily. He just needed to play along a bit longer. “And all I would need to do is bring you…zeds? Sounds like it would definitely be worth a risk or two, if you really have the kind of money you say you do.”

“Oh, I sure do, Edward, I sure do. I have to, in order to keep all those guys I got out there patrolling the wastelands.”

“They…patrol?”

“All over. As far out as I can send them. What do you say, Edward? I give you a vehicle and maybe you get me a pipeline of zeds?”

“Sure,” he said. “Absolutely.” Anything to get that truck. Anything to get the hell out of this hellhole before it was too late.

Edward had feared for a minute as Billy Horton gave him the keys to a rusty old Ford pickup that it would be like the van, complete with controls and features he didn’t know how to operate. But it was a good old model, probably ugly-looking under the hood from all the jury-rigged parts, but it ran and that was all that mattered. He must have been slipping. He was starting to actually like the sight of Fords.

He gave Horton all the right assurances that he would be in contact soon and took the keys from the man, all the time trying not to act like he was in a hurry. He didn’t know how many men Horton had out there or even if they searched for their zombies anywhere near the van, but he felt now like he was running against a clock.

He sped down the highway as fast as the truck would take him, which unfortunately wasn’t that fast anymore. He ignored the way the truck shimmied horribly with every bump and pothole in the road and how it felt like it might shake apart if it went anything over forty-five. After what felt like too long he saw the van in the ditch, although instead of making him sigh with relief it made him wince. The dust and dirt hadn’t done much at all to keep it from being visible from the road. If anyone else had been along here recently, they had definitely seen it.

He pulled the truck right up next to the ditch and hopped out, leaving the engine running. The van looked exactly as he had left it, but he wasn’t reassured until he scrambled down into the ditch, opened the back door, and saw Liddie sitting there. The smell inside the van was horrible now, and not because of the pheromones. The zombie bowel issue had apparently finally hit her.

“It’s okay, Liddie,” he said. “When you wake back up I will completely deny that this ever happened. Now come on, we need to get out of here right now.” He held his hands out for her to grab so he could help her out, but she just stared at them. Although he didn’t like doing it, he tried giving her a little nudge with the pheromones. All respect for her aside, they didn’t have time to do this the right way. They could have minutes or they could have hours before any of Horton’s men found them, but he had no way of knowing for sure and didn’t plan on risking it.

He must have fumbled a little with his control of the pheromones, because she froze and looked around frantically. He tried again, and this time she came to him. He helped her out, taking just enough time to give her a strong, heartfelt hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Time to get the hell out of Dodge,” Edward said, then held her hand to lead her out of the ditch. He looked up, trying to find a hand hold that she could use too with the right cajoling from him, and instead saw the barrel of a rifle pointed right at him.

The man holding the gun stood in the back of the truck, and the shocked look on his face would have been priceless if not for the threatening way he held the weapon. “Don’t move, freak,” the man said. “Don’t you dare fucking move.”

He kept the rifle pointed at Edward with one hand as he pulled a cell phone out of his pocket with the other. He pressed a button and held it to his ear. “Billy, your guess paid off, but you are never in a million years going to believe the sick shit I just saw…No, he’s got a zed with him, had it hidden out in some abandoned van, but you need…Yeah, I can do that. But hurry up, though. I don’t want to hang around this perverted bastard any longer than I have to.”

He put the phone back in his pocket. “You’re going to be in some deep shit now, you twisted fuck,” he said.

Edward stared at the guy and tried to wrap his head around the situation. It was obvious by now that the man had been in the back of the truck the whole time. Edward had been in too much of a hurry to look back there. But that didn’t make a lot of sense to him.

“What exactly is going on here?” Edward asked. “What are you doing in the back of my truck?”

“Not your truck, fuckstick. This is Billy Horton’s truck.”

“Which he gave to me.”

“Oh, wake the fuck up. He only let you have the truck because he realized there was something seriously fucking wrong with your story. I was up there in the tower with Bert when you came in. What, you think we’re all just dumb fucking hicks that can’t tell which way Denver is? You didn’t come from the south, you came in from the west.”

Edward debated whether or not he should deny it and try to continue on with his cover story. They obviously knew he wasn’t what he said he was, but maybe he could sow enough doubt in this man’s mind that he would let his guard down. After all, he really didn’t want to be still standing here when Horton showed back up.

“That’s because that’s where our research equipment was set up,” Edward said. “I swear to God, I wasn’t lying about any of it. I just want to get this nightmare over with and go home.”