Jack Zombie (Book 3): Dead Nation Page 4

  “Geez, man, hope he doesn’t overdose,” Norm says as we walk around the van. He says it jokingly enough. My brother is coming back…slowly, but surely.

  “He’ll be fine,” I say. Because he better be. After the fight with Darlene, I don’t know if I can feel any worse than I do now. Froggy dying, more blood on my conscience, probably wouldn’t help. So let’s not find out. Plus, we have a new lead on Klein and possibly on saving the world.

  I start to gather up the weapons we have in the back, keeping them out of the reach of this crazy cannibal. As my gym bag fills up with a couple AR15s and a few pistols (plus the revolvers and shotgun taken off the corpses outside of the van), I lean out of the back and close the door.

  “Well, now what?” Norm asks. We are walking toward the driver’s side doors. I still smell the stale odor of Darlene’s tobacco smoke.

  “Jack?” Norm says, waving a hand in front of my face. “What next?”

  “We find the Wranglers and then we find the Doc.”

  “Not if those Wranglers find us first,” Froggy says from the back of the van, his voice is grave yet slurring.

  “Shut up, creep,” Abby says.

  He does.

  “Dude is right,” Norm says. “I got this funny feeling like we’re being watched.” His eyes jitter to the surrounding woods.

  “Maybe,” I say, but I really hope not.

  “Can we get going?” Darlene asks. “I’m cold.”

  “Well if you kept your damn clothes on, Darlene,” Norm says and laughs.

  She flips him off.

  I shudder. I don’t even want to think about that moment again. Naughty Librarian has officially retired.

  “I kid, I kid,” he assures, then sits down and turns the ignition. The car roars to life, shooting out a stream of blue exhaust that practically engulfs the van. The stink masks the earthy freshness of nature. I get in next to Abby, pushing her into the middle of the seat. I get the feeling Darlene still doesn’t want to talk to me.

  Oh, well, maybe a couple hours of quiet will do us good.

  I turn back to Froggy and ask, “Where is this village?”

  “Keep driving up the highway until you see a bridge,” he says. “About five miles or sss-so.”

  Norm steps on the gas and we are off.

  9

  We get to the bridge as the sun starts to go down. There is no sign of zombies or humans. There is actually no sign of life at all. No birds in the sky or cawing in trees. The water beneath the bridge runs lazily and is fairly clear, but I see no fish or turtles. Just a piece of driftwood going God knows where.

  “Now what?” I ask.

  “Take the bridge, hang a left,” Froggy answers. His voice is thick with the drugs now.

  “I don’t like this,” Herb mumbles from the front seat. Darlene puts her hand on his shoulder.

  “Don’t worry, Herb,” she says.

  “Smells fishy,” Abby says.

  “Yeah, there’s a river under us,” Norm says and when no one laughs, he wipes the smile from his face and says, “Be quiet, you two.”

  “I just want to find the Doc,” Herb says. “He was a good man. The first time I met him was on a Sunday — ”

  “No, Herb, not now,” Norm says.

  I say let him go. Everyone copes with fear a different way. With Herb, it’s recalling the past; with Norm, it’s cracking lame jokes. With me…I don’t know, getting my fiancé to hate me, I guess.

  Herb flicks his gaze in Norm’s direction and nods.

  The van pulls onto the bridge. I can smell the water below us through the glass. My nose crinkles. It’s not a pleasant smell.

  Norm only drives about fifteen mph. The new tires don’t take the bumps and cracks in the bridge’s concrete well. By the look of it, the bridge must not have been inspected or renovated in the last two decades and probably never will be. It will crumble and fall into the lazy river, and in a hundred years, you won’t even know there was ever a bridge here. The thought alone brings a sort of darkness into my chest, one I don’t like.

  “This safe?” Abby asks.

  “I’ve gone over this bridge a hundred times in my life,” Froggy says. “Never had a problem.”

  “Only takes the one more time…” Norm mumbles.

  And unfortunately, Herb hears him and squeals.

  “Won’t be no problem,” Froggy repeats, still slurring.

  “Looks like it’s a problem,” Norm says.

  He stops the car, not slamming on the brakes by any means but instead rolling to a nice, smooth stop. I lean over Abby to see what the problem is.

  And I get goosebumps.

  Outside, through the grimy windshield of this van we stole from Eden, there is a row of people standing at the end of the bridge. They seem to have appeared out of thin air. All of them hold weapons, and not broken broomsticks and baseball bats, but large rifles and shotguns. They are all wearing masks — burlap sacks with circles cut around the eyes.

  Darlene gasps, and reaches across Abby to squeeze my hand. I squeeze back. It’s a way of letting her know everything is going to be okay.

  “I don’t like this. I really don’t like this,” Herb says.

  “Me, either, big fella,” Norm says. He throws the gearshift into reverse and turns to look over his shoulder. The panicked look on his face melts into one of despair. I turn around to follow what he’s looking at. Past Froggy, who is staring at these masked people with wide eyes, is more of the same people behind us. My skin prickles so hard, I think it’s going to jump from the bone.

  Froggy shakes his head when he catches me staring at him. “I didn’t know,” he says. “I swear to God I didn’t know.”

  “Doesn’t matter if he did or didn’t know, Jack,” Norm says, “because we better do something right now or we’re royally screwed.”

  I turn back to Froggy. “Who are they? The Wranglers?”

  He gulps and slowly nods his head. “Y-Yeah, it’s them.”

  “Everyone grab a weapon. We fight,” I say.

  10

  I have an AR15 in my hand, except no one else makes for the weapons. They are just staring out ahead of them.

  “C’mon,” I say.

  Nothing.

  The masked figures approach the car. The sacks over their face solidify the growing darkness throughout me. Because of the shadows, I can’t see their eyes. I don’t like that. I don’t like this at all.

  The leader breaks away from the pack, steps forward.

  None of us scream, but I think we’re getting close.

  “Fuck this,” Norm says, and throws the gearshift into drive. He punches the gas pedal and I lurch forward, feeling the adrenaline and fear pumping through my system. There is the metal clatter of guns and bones hitting the plastic interior. Now, Darlene is screaming and Herb does his la-la-la.

  The lead man doesn’t flinch as the van barrels toward him.

  At the last possible moment, he steps out of the way, the other masked people with him. I grab Darlene and Abby and throw their shoulders down to get their heads away from the window. Outside, what sounds like four gunshots rock the van’s foundation. We weren’t going very fast, but now, somehow, we are going faster. The van fishtails and spins enough times to make me feel like I’m going to vomit. Glass breaks and metal dents and crumples as we slam into the guardrail of the bridge.

  Herb has taken to sobbing.

  “Oh, shit,” Norm says.

  I lift my head up. For a second, I think that I’ve hit it hard enough to knock my vision for a loop, but really, all I’m seeing is just more and more of these people and their masks.

  God, at this point I’d rather see zombies.

  “What happened?” Abby says. “What was that noise? Gunshots? Am I dead?” She pats herself all over her body.

  “Popped our wheels, baby,” Norm says. “Road spikes…clever sons of bitches.” Then sighs as he draws his pistol.

  “Oh, well,” I say, getting up and righting myself, �
��it’s never easy, is it?” I pull the revolver free, cock the hammer, and prepare for a fight.

  11

  As I get out of the van, it’s too late. I should’ve known. These freaks have the drop on us. They’re closing around with their weapons raised. An icy calm ripples through my body. Somehow, I’m not scared. I’ve been through this before.

  “Drop your weapons, friends,” the leader says. “Drop your weapons and live. It’s pretty simple, huh?”

  I am staring at this guy with a look as sharp as razors. Norm turns his head toward me to see what I’m going to do. I feel Darlene and Abby’s eyes boring into my back. I can practically hear Darlene cussing me out in the afterlife. Why didn’t you just listen, you dumbass? We could still be alive if you would’ve just listened!

  I let the pistol drop to the old bridge. It jumps and spins, the metal shining with the dying light, then settles near the road spikes our van trundled over, right next to a piece of torn-up rubber. Norm gives me another glance, shaking his head, but I can tell he’s grateful. He can’t handle another fight.

  Norm drops his gun, too.

  “Everyone in the vehicle, get out,” the leader says.

  They don’t listen. I turn to look through the broken windshield and give them a nod. Abby leads the way, coming out with a snarl on her face and her hands up, then Darlene and then Herb.

  The man standing in front of the mask-wearing, armed men smiles. “All of them,” he says.

  “He can’t get out on his own. He’s tied up,” I say.

  “You taking hostages?” the man asks.

  “Yes and no. He’s supposed to be our guide.”

  “Guide for what?”

  “Around you psychos!” Norm shouts.

  The masked man’s shakes his head. “Is that so? Well, that’s unfortunate.” He looks at me. “Are you the leader?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “You should really keep your friends’ mouths shut…it could be detrimental to your survival.”

  I say nothing. I think he expects an apology, but I refuse. No, I haven’t learned my lesson from Eden. I never will because I will never let a madman control my fate.

  “Well, I’m gonna cut to the chase,” the man says. “My name is Croghan, Bill Croghan, and this part of the interstate is our country.” He puts his hand up and the mask-wearing friends of his close in around us. I feel like I’m suffocating, like claustrophobia is settling in. A few others get closer. I find myself shuffling backward, instinctively heading for Darlene who may or may not be mad at me.

  “No need to be frightened,” Croghan says.

  “Says the guy who’s leading a mob of people wearing masks. Yeah, okay,” Norm says.

  “Unmask!” Croghan says.

  They pull them off. Underneath are just the faces of the everyday, regular people we used to see all the time. There’s Jim the Mailman, and Betty the Bank Teller. Hey, doesn’t that guy mow our lawn, Chris or something? These are people you would see at the local town hall meeting, arguing about the dicks who don’t pick up after their dogs at the park. They do not look like vicious killers, but then again, this is coming from a man who has fought a dime-novel cowboy to the death in an arena of wild, blood-lustful people.

  “We have been watching you,” Croghan says. “We saw how you cleared away half a dozen cannibals with your backs against the walls.” Croghan gets on his knees. Everyone else does the same right after.

  I look back with equally wide eyes, then I turn to Norm. He is smiling and shaking his head. Behind me, I see Abby doing the same thing. We could run right now, we could pick up our dropped guns and bury all of these people, too. But we don’t.

  They know we won’t.

  “We would like you to join us,” Croghan says, his head is bowed, floppy brown hair hanging in his eyes. He looks up, now. “What do you say?”

  I shrug. It’s hard to say no to a group of people literally bowing down to you, but I do. “I’m sorry, we are on a mission of our own.”

  “What is this mission you speak of?” Croghan says.

  This could be a trick. I don’t think it is, but it could be. So I bend down to get my gun, moving lightning quick. There’s no response from the crowd. They remain bowed. Still as statues.

  Nope, not a trick.

  “Really, man,” I say, “you can stand up.”

  Croghan smiles and nods, then he rises, the others with them.

  “We are searching for a man, an older man. He goes by the name of Klein. He’s a doctor en route to Washington D.C. Have you seen him?”

  Croghan doesn’t answer immediately. His eyes flicker from right to left. He might be thinking. Guilt might be washing over him. If he tells me Doc Klein is dead, I don’t know what we’ll do because our journey will have ended.

  “We have seen him,” someone else says from behind Croghan. A large, older man steps forward. He passes his mask to an older woman next to him. “The doctor came through about three days ago.”

  “And he left?” I ask.

  The older man looks at me with shiny eyes, then he turns to Croghan.

  Croghan nods. “You better come with us,” he says to me.

  Herb whimpers.

  12

  “It’s not far,” Croghan is saying. “And you will be safe with us. We keep these woods clear.”

  “Our weapons,” I say, “will we need them?”

  “No, but if they make you feel safer, you can keep them until we get to Mother.” My ears perk up at this, mind flooding with thoughts of my own mother buried underneath the pile of ash that is Woodhaven. No, that can’t be.

  Mother? I begin to ask, but think better of it.

  “There is one problem,” Croghan says. “We cannot accept the cannibal you have tied up in the back of your vehicle. He must die.”

  I feel my stomach drop. Why does it always have to be death? Why does, in this screwed up world, execution have to be the norm? I look Croghan right in the eyes. “No,” I say. “No, he will not be executed.”

  Croghan stops and glares at me. “I don’t make the rules.”

  “There are no rules,” Norm says. I don’t think he cares if Froggy lives or not. He just has a problem with authority, always has. Throw in what happened to him at Eden, the capture, the torture, the chopped-off finger, and Norm has every right to question someone talking of rules in the apocalypse. I don’t blame him.

  “In this neck of the woods, my friend, there are,” Croghan answers. He snaps his fingers. Two younger people, their masks hanging from their belts, right next to their hunting knifes, advance on the van.

  I step in front of them. “Now, gentlemen, we don’t need bloodshed.”

  “There’s no choice,” Croghan says, smiling.

  “Jack, I don’t like this,” Darlene whispers behind me.

  Now she talks to me. I don’t like it either and I’ll do everything in my power to prevent it from getting past a point of no return. Just for Darlene. Just to make it up to her.

  “Leave them alone!” Herb says.

  Croghan’s eyes balloon as if he’s surprised Herb is intelligent enough to speak.

  Abby shushes Herb, but he ignores her. “You leave us alone. Doc Klein was a good man and you hurted him, didn’t you? You hurted him like you’re gonna hurt us!”

  “Kill the big one, too,” Croghan says, turning away. “Then we can talk like intelligent men.”

  The two men with their hunting knives don’t look like they want to follow these orders, but they also look like they have no choice. I feel for them. If they don’t follow orders, I’m sure this Croghan fellow will kill them.

  “Enough,” the older man with his wife says. “These are our guests, let them do with the cannibal what they will.”

  The two men and their hunting knives stop at the sound of the older man’s voice.

  “Don’t listen to Jacob,” Croghan says.

  Now, I don’t stand idly by. I don’t think deeply. I don’t ponder the situation. I mak
e a move for my holstered gun. I’m quicker. The metal fills my hand, and with it, the power. As I look up at the men advancing and the rest of the Wranglers gritting their teeth and pointing their own weapons at us, I realize there is no way around bloodshed.

  Croghan was right.

  “If you were watching us, you saw what I could do, what we could all do. I can drop about half of you before you take me down,” I say. This might be a lie, but my voice is convincing enough. I don’t want to take any of them down. But I keep going. It’s too late. The wheels are off the track, barreling toward chaos. I feel the tension. The fear. The stupidity. Geez, what happened to kneeling before me? “I single-handedly took down Eden,” I say. “A few crazies wearing masks will be nothing to me.”

  Someone’s gun falls to the asphalt.

  The slight breeze in the air stops. No more leaves rustle in the trees. It is quiet except for the soft current of the toxic water below us.

  “No way,” Croghan says. “Eden?” His voice has lost the authoritative tone.

  “We saw the flames,” the older man named Jacob says. “Didn’t we, Marge?”

  The woman next to him nods. “We did.”

  “You took down Spike?” Croghan asks. He starts to bow down again.

  “No,” I say. “Stand up. Yeah, I took down Spike and Butch Hazard. The rest of it…I can’t take credit for that. The flames and the destruction happened during the riots.”

  “Eden was unbreakable, how’d you manage to do that?” Jacob asks.

  “I’m a good shot,” is all I say. I hope it sounds as cool to them as it sounded in my head.

  “Yeah, he learned from the best,” Norm says. “So if you want to discuss this more, I suggest you leave our people alone and we’ll leave you alone. Then you can tell us what happened to Doc Klein.”

  Croghan nods. “All right, but the cannibal cannot go with us. That much, you can grant me, right? He doesn’t have to die, though he deserves far worse than death, but he has to go.”