Dying Days Page 14

  “What do we do?”

  “Start shooting. If we can clear them another twenty feet we might have time to get the cement moved.”

  “I hope so.” Darlene began picking them off, concentrating on the left-hand side while John went to work on the right.

  “This is hopeless,” John said. For every one they dropped another two now took its place, coming out of the woods from only fifteen feet away on either side.

  They kept at it. Darlene finished her clip and put in a new one, wondering if this would be the last one she’d ever have and wondering if she should save two bullets for them.

  She hadn’t told John or Murph about survivors in Maine. Her goal was to stay here through the summer and winter, build up her strength and supplies and then head north. She knew that patience was not her strong suit but she didn’t want to risk another winter in the northeast. Now she wished she’d told John and Murph of her plan. Somehow she felt like she’d eventually be abandoning them, even though she owed nothing real to them and them to her. Still…

  John fired his last arrow a second before her pistol was empty. They immediately turned and fumbled with the cement block. They’d managed to clear a thirty foot zone before them but the zombies would close it soon enough.

  The cement block moved a few inches and John was able to get his hands under it. “Push it,” he yelled, trying to keep the weight from falling and crushing his hands.

  When the machine gun fire started he almost dropped it.

  “Who the fuck is that?” Darlene asked.

  A figure, dressed in black, face covered in a black hood, was sitting on a Harley Davidson shooting an M4 assault rifle. He tossed a grenade into the tree line.

  “We’re saved,” Darlene said.

  “No. That’s Azrael.” John worked frantically to move the block. “If we don’t move this he’ll shoot us dead as quick as he’ll shoot zombies.”

  The grenade went off in the woods.

  “Shit.” Darlene put her back into it to lift the cement block as a bullet bounced off of the fence next to her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  They got the cement block off to the side and John stepped over it, reaching back to help Darlene. “Behind you!” he shouted.

  She turned, pulling her machete and cutting with it in one motion. An arm from the nearest undead flew into the water. She began hacking at its neck and on the third slice it severed.

  “Let’s go, he’s still firing!” John urged her.

  Darlene kicked another zombie back into the pack, who now pushed to get at her. The sound of bullets hitting zombies and ricocheting off of the asphalt was making her shake and she tried to duck and fight at the same time.

  “Now!” John finally said. “He’ll shoot us both.”

  She took one wide swing and cut into another neck before jumping back and over the cement block.

  “Help me push it back!” John said as he gripped it again and put his shoulder into it. Darlene joined him, a bullet ricocheting just past her chin. It was easier to push it back into place and despite the hands trying to reach over and grab them they managed to set it so it couldn’t be moved.

  “Run,” John said and began moving across the bridge, which was completely empty of debris, cars or bodies.

  Darlene followed close behind, marveling at how odd it was to have found such refuge amidst all of the chaos. You could put your head down and imagine cars coming up behind you, tourists roaring toward the beaches. To either side the river lapped at the pylons, another lazy summer day.

  The sound of gunfire receding in the distance broke her from the spell. When they got halfway over the bridge they stopped.

  Another explosion rocked the trees, and they watched as smoke and fire billowed near the bridge, a tree dropping into the river.

  “Was he throwing grenades?” Darlene asked.

  “Yeah.” John put his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath. Finally he sat down in the middle of the bridge. “He won’t follow us.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Not really.” John put his head down on the sun-baked asphalt and stretched his legs.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Enjoying a nap. Grab it while you can.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “Damn serious. Where else, besides back home, will you ever be safe? There’s no way the zombies can get to us.”

  “What about … whatever his name is on the bike?” Darlene sat down next to him.

  “If he wants to he’ll shoot us long distance. I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about the noise we created and the dozens of zombies amassing on the eastern end of the bridge.”

  “Who is he?”

  “I told you. Azrael.”

  “Like the bad cat in the Smurfs cartoon?”

  John laughed. “As in the Angel of Death.”

  Darlene shrugged. “I think the old guy from the cartoon was worse.”

  “Papa Smurf?”

  “Forget it.” Darlene stood back up and brushed off her pants. “Who is he?”

  “Some lunatic. He’s been around for a few months. He sets all of these roadblocks and traps. When we sent someone to talk to him he started shooting. Now we just stay clear of him and he inadvertently helps us with his work. That place that we met? He set all of that up; I just use it to kill them.”

  “You mean the place where you tried to kill me?”

  “Not quite. If I wanted to I would have killed you.”

  Darlene laughed and playfully nudged him with her foot. “I’m too fast a target for you. I’m like a panther.”

  “Really? I could’ve easily hit those boobs of yours.”

  “Pervert,” Darlene said and went to kick him harder this time. John grabbed her foot and yanked her. She fell onto him and he circled her in a bear hug.

  “You were saying?” he whispered in her ear.

  Darlene immediately reacted in two very different ways: her body stiffened at his touch, so unused to physical contact that was not violent; and she also got wet. “Get off of me,” she said and rolled her eyes when her voice quivered. She wanted him inside of her, right here on the bridge, Azrael and zombies be damned.

  “Sorry.” John pulled away from her and sat up. He turned his head away from her. “I got carried away.”

  “It’s alright. Just two adults having some fun, right?”

  “I’m married,” he finally said.

  “I know.” Darlene stood and walked over to the edge, looking down at the water. “It’s just…”

  “We should get going if we’re going to get home before dark.” John took a few steps away from Darlene.

  “Is she out there?” Darlene asked.

  “Yes. Somewhere she’s alive and waiting for me. She’s safe and right now laughing with my daughters.”

  “I hope so.”

  John turned and eyed her, his eyes swollen. “I can feel her, like she’s sending me messages or something.”

  Darlene nodded. She really did hope for his sake that they were alive, no matter how remote the chance was. “Where’s your uniform?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “What uniform?” John asked and turned back the way they’d come. “I think he left. I don’t hear gunfire or explosions.”

  “That’s good.”

  “The problem will be getting past the ones that were alerted on the other side by all of the noise. I hope we gave them enough time to get bored and move along.”

  “Uniform,” Darlene said as she started walking.

  “I still don’t get it.”

  “You told me you were a cop. In every horror movie, especially zombie movies, the hero has a heart of gold, a knowing smile, and a cop uniform on.”

  “Sorry. After a year I decided to retire the uniform and put on more comfortable clothes.”

  “The uniform would have been better. It would give you that authority, that sense of righteous purpose.”

  John snickered.
“I already have a sense of righteous purpose.”

  “Any idea what that is?”

  “Not a clue.” John laughed. “But it sounds pompous. I like it.”

  “I thought you would. And next time you talk about my tits I’ll shoot you.”

  “As long as it’s with a bow, I’ll be safe.”

  “Fuck you,” Darlene said and missed with a punch.

  “You wish.”

  You have no idea, Darlene thought and tried to concentrate on walking next to him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  There was a soft thud on the stairs below her new house. Darlene drew her Desert Eagle, always on her side, and walked quietly to the front door. Someone or something was coming up the steps unannounced, a great way to get a bullet between the eyes.

  She opened the door and trained the weapon on the top of the stairs.

  Another step and then nothing. “Hello?” a female voice called up. “Are you home?”

  “Bitch.” Darlene went to the stairs and looked down. Kayla was coming up the steps holding a picnic basket. Her white T-shirt was tight across her bra-less chest and tied under it, revealing her taut stomach and pierced bellybutton.

  “I’m just bringing you a housewarming present.”

  “A picnic basket?” Darlene asked, trying not to stare as Kayla came up and stood next to her. I’m not a fucking lesbian, but she is sexy. Darlene wanted to slap the thought from her head.

  “No, me, silly.” Kayla laughed. “This is just for after, when we’re hungry.”

  “I’ve already explained myself.” Darlene couldn’t help the edge in her voice. Kayla might be beautiful but she was also so damn arrogant.

  “I’m just teasing. I brought a bottle of wine, some fresh cheese and crackers. Peter went into St. Augustine yesterday and I asked him to pick me up a few things.”

  “That is kind,” Darlene said. “Won’t you come in?”

  The house was a mess. Griff had decided after Darlene and John came back and told of the run-in with Azrael that she needed her own place to relax for a couple of days before deciding what she wanted to do. She knew what she wanted to do: stay for a few months, gather supplies, weapons and information, and then head back north to home. For now, this would be her home.

  Most of the furniture was very expensive and very gaudy. The woman of the house – the owners were a middle-aged couple of obvious wealth – had made it very feminine, with gold trim, seraph ornaments, light colored rooms and muted amber hues on the upholstery. There were doilies and covers on almost everything. The family had owned horses, and there were statues, plaques and photos adorning every room in the house save for the back room.

  The back room was the man’s cave, filled with football memorabilia, a sixty-inch plasma television, surround sound, and a vast pornography collection. Darlene had wasted no time in rummaging through the DVD’s in hope of finding something to take her mind off of things, but it was exclusively lesbian videos, and most of them of the group variety.

  “It looks like the Soprano’s threw up in here,” Kayla blurted.

  Darlene couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, they were definitely from New York or New Jersey. The guy has a room full of New York Jets crap. Want any of it?”

  “Any baseball bats? We could always use weapons.” Kayla set the basket on the kitchen table as she moved through the rooms. “It could use some work, but nothing a garbage can couldn’t solve. I see they liked horses.”

  “You could say that. I keep expecting to open up an extra bedroom and finding a zombie horse or something.”

  “That would be fun. I’m sure we’ll be happy here together,” Kayla said.

  “No fucking –“

  “Wow, are you easy to rile up. I’m just busting your chops. Relax. I promise to not make you uncomfortable, as long as you stop staring at my tits. Is that fair?”

  Darlene blushed and looked away. “No idea what you’re talking about, but not a problem.” Darlene went back into the kitchen and began unloading the basket.

  Kayla came in and opened the cabinet, procuring two wine glasses. “These are probably worth a grand a piece.” She sat down at the table.

  “Worthless now.” Darlene put the cheese and crackers onto a tray.

  “Not really. Trust me, there’s always someone who wants what they haven’t got. Most of this junk here could be brought to the city and traded for perishables. There’s a market for just about anything.”

  “The only thing I need short-term is new clothes. A nice, comfortable pair of jeans, some sneakers that fit, a pack of socks, a bra that doesn’t make my girls bounce when I run from zombies, and some panties.”

  “You strike me as a g-string kinda gal,” Kayla said and grinned.

  Darlene couldn’t help but smile. “You said you’d play nice.”

  “You haven’t stopped looking at them yet.” Kayla sat up in her chair. “Say the word and this shirt comes off.”

  “Pour the wine.” Darlene went to the drawer and got a knife for the cheese. “And I prefer thongs.”

  ‘I prefer nothing. It’s easier to bury your face that way.”

  “You’re sick.” Darlene cut the cheese into squares and placed them on a plate, fixing the crackers in a nice pattern. “Lunch is served.”

  Kayla sipped at the wine and ignored the food.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” Darlene asked around a mouthful of cheese and crackers.

  “I ate before I came over. This is for you.” Kayla tapped on a wine bottle. “I’m going to do a liquid lunch today. Won’t you join me?”

  ‘I think I might,” Darlene said with a laugh. She raised her glass. “A toast.”

  Kayla lifted hers. “A toast to what?”

  “Life.”

  “And still being alive.” Kayla tapped her glass against Darlene’s and finished hers in one gulp. She quickly refilled her glass.

  “You’ll get drunk that way.”

  “That’s the idea.” Kayla pointed at Darlene’s glass. “Keep up.”

  “I don’t think so.” Darlene put a hunk of cheese into her mouth.

  “Suit yourself.” Kayla sipped her wine and sat back. “Let’s talk about nothing of consequence for a bit.” She glanced out the window. “It’s a beautiful day today, isn’t it?”

  “It’s another sunny, hot day. I never thought I’d pray for rain, but it would be great to break the days apart.” Darlene finished her glass and smiled when Kayla poured her another one. “This is my last one.”

  Three glasses later the bottle was empty and they’d retired to the living room, stretched out on the couch. Darlene was feeling great, giddy and light-headed. She tried to stand but fell down onto Kayla with a laugh. “I need to pee,” she slurred.

  “I think you need to relax first.” Kayla helped her sit up next to her. “Close your eyes.”

  Darlene’s eyes grew wide. Even in her drunken stupor she had some senses working. “I don’t want this.”

  “Want what?” Kayla said and stroked Darlene’s face with her fingers, tracing her chin. “I would never do anything that you didn’t want.”

  Darlene closed her eyes and relaxed. The wine was making her feel good and free. For the first time in forever she didn’t worry about being bitten or being raped or being ripped apart. She only felt… horny, if she were being honest with herself. Would it be so bad to make love to Kayla? She was beautiful. You could do a lot worse than her, Darlene thought. Under normal circumstances she wouldn’t even dream of this, but there was nothing normal about anything.

  Darlene leaned forward and puckered her lips.

  Kayla held her close and Darlene could feel her breath in her ear. “I would love nothing more than to have you, to taste every part of you, to make you cum.” Kayla kissed her softly on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Darlene opened her eyes confused. “You’re leaving?”

  “Trust me, it’s for the better.”

  “I don’t think so.”


  Kayla put a hand on Darlene’s arm and let it linger. “I do. Go get some food into your system.”

  As Kayla left Darlene went to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Grey Goose. I’ll get some more drink into me, thank you very much.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Darlene woke up to the sound of pouring rain. Her head felt like someone had run it over and she swore that she would never drink wine again. Her stomach lurched as she struggled out of the bed, eye on the bathroom door. ‘Please let me make it,” she whispered.

  She didn’t. She crumbled in the doorway of the bathroom and spewed her stomach contents on the floor. Closing her eyes, she swore that she’d never drink another drop of alcohol.

  The rain stopped midmorning, jarring a stiff Darlene from the floor. Her head still hurt and her sides felt like she’d been kicked in the ribs. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious. The smell of the floor and her clothes made her gag.

  Getting to the couch took her twenty minutes, her limbs refusing to work for her. She was so exhausted by the time she hit the cushions that she closed her eyes and fell back asleep.

  A knock at the door jarred her awake, a stabbing pain in her forehead. “Go away,” she tried to say but her throat was so dry that she simply made a squeaking noise. At this point, if it were a horde of zombies, she’d gladly let them eat her. Anything to stop the pain.

  “Darlene?”

  It was John. He knocked again. “Are you alright?”

  Darlene glanced down at her stained shirt and sighed. She put her fingers through her hair and came away with something gray and sticky. She had to laugh, but knew it would hurt.

  John knocked on the door again.

  “Come in,” she finally managed. As the door opened – she was so glad that it was unlocked and she didn’t have to spend an hour trying to rise and unlock it – she propped herself on a couch pillow with an elbow and tried to smile. Maybe he won’t notice how I look, or how I smell.

  John stopped in his tracks. “Oh my God, are you alright?”

  “Sure.”