Dead Man Running (53 page)

She climbed down from the hayloft.  The Bartholomew's two horses – Itsey and Bitsy – were in their stall
s
behind
h
eavy wooden gates.  As Tamesha walked past the animals each whinnied at the intruder.  Sensing no danger, the animals
quickly quieted, retreating t
o the thoughts animals maintained during the night.

Just past the animals
she found
a small room.  Tamesha stepped inside and
discovered
what she was looking for – the Bartholomew's gun cabinet.

The glass door of the cabinet revealed the weapons inside – several hand guns, two shotguns and a bow and arrow.

She tried the door and as expected it was locked.  There was a dusty, worn desk in the room and Tamesha searched fruitlessly for the key. 

She would have to break the glass door.

Her first concern, if she could find something capable of breaking the glass, was the noise it would make.  Her second concern was whether
H
ank would come out here
during his nighttime wanderings – she ha
d
heard him walking through the house during the past few nights a
nd could imagine his path including the barn and grounds. 

She examined the cabinet again. 
The cabinet appeared old, the
glass and wooden door loosely clinging to the cabinet frame
.  If she could find a crowbar, perhaps she could
wedge
open the cabinet, take a weapon or two,
and
then close it back without Hank noticing.

She left the tack room and began walking around the barn again.  Soon she found where the tool
s
were stored and she had her hands on a huge screwdriver which would be perfect for levering open the cabinet.

Back in the tack room she inserted the blade of the screwdriver in the gap between the
cabinet door and the frame
as far as it could go.  The screwdriver was above her head.  She reached up and placed both small hands on the huge tool.   She fell back and pulled with all her might.  She heard a splitting sound and a chunk of wood str
uck
the top of her head.

She looked up and the
top
of the box hung open, attached to the bottom surface of the box by three severely bent nails.  She got on her feet
.  She placed the screwdriver in the side pocket of her
carpenter
jeans with the intention of putting
it
back where it belonged before she left.

She
considered what she would take.  Unlike some of the kids in her neighborhood, Tamesha Holloway knew nothing about guns, except for what she saw on TV and the movies.

She reached inside and pulled out a handgun.  She knew that there was a safety and she found that easily enough.  What she didn't know was how to put bullets inside it.  She spent a few moments examining it,
and
then gave up.  She put it back in the cabinet.

She next got out the bow.  Outside of "The Hunger Games", she wasn't familiar with this weapon either.  She spent a minute or two pulling on the bow.  She tried placing an arrow on the bow but she didn't have the strength to pull the string too far and the arrow harmlessly fell to the ground.  She put the bow and arrows back in the damaged box and pulled out the shotgun.

She had seen enough movies to know how
a
shotgun was loaded
and fired
. 
She examined the weapon until she located the safety.  She easily found a button on the side that opened the weapon. 
Inside the
weapon was empty.  She looked around the room until she
located
the shotgun shells
. 

She played with the ammo until she filled both barrels.  She put the safety back on and sat the weapon on the floor.  She pushed on the side of the cabinet for several minutes, in an attempt to make the damage invisible to an excited
monster
hurrying to feed horses on his wedding day.  She knew that a hammer could do a better job but was not willing to risk the noise.

When she was done the cabinet hung open slightly but since it was on the
inside left wall, invisible except
while standing
inside the
doorway, perhaps it would not be noticed.  If it was, she and her new best friend would have to deal with it.

As the shotgun had a strap, she slung the weapon over her shoulder.  It nearly dragged on the floor.  She took it off, adjusted the strap and the weapon was now tight against her slight back.
 

She stuffed several boxes of ammo into her pockets and left the room.
She would get back to Melissa's bedroom and wait for her 'groom' to unlock her bedroom door, presenting an inviting target for the twin barrels.

She climbed
up
to the loft and looked over to the attic.  The trip back would be harder – uphill with the extra weight of the shotgun and shells.
  In th
at
moment
of uncertainty, when
she wondered if she could make it, she saw a flash o
f
red in the attic window.
  Her granny had returned to inspire her.

She knew that she
w
ould make it.
 

The seaplane landed near Ovalau, a middling
Fiji
island, and the team disembarked to
measure
the effectiveness of the zombie atomic bomb.
 
Mira
and Elias rode aboard the first launch that hit the shore.

The bombs had been deployed high above this island home of fifty thousand Fijians.  All the instruments aboard the C-130 had registered successful transit of the bombs into clouds.  The bombs exploded per design and the nanobots deployed
in
clouds, seeding the clouds and riding the raindrops down to the surface. 

The question
wa
s
:
D
id the nanobots convert one hundred percent of the population?

The first clue the team had that something was amiss was the presence of a boy on shore carefully
g
n
a
wing what appeared to be someone's hand, possibly that of a female or another child.

"Not one hundred percent
coverage
," Elias said as they stepped past the child.

A woman ran out of the trees that framed the beach.  "Help
! Help!"  She was white and
obviously
American.  She was heavyset and very out of breath by the time she reached the group.

"Please get me out of here!  Something has happened, everyone seems to have gone mad."

"What's the problem?" Elias asked.

"Oh, thank God!  You're American."
  She grabbed onto Elias like he was the Savior Himself.

"Yes.  No
w
what exactly is the problem?" Dr. Rothmans asked.

"What's the problem?  Why, the
y're
eating people.
"  She pointed to the native boy enjoying his meal.  "
They've gone back to being cannibals.  My God, they
ate
Harold, my husband."

"Is that so?" asked Elias.
  He smiled.

"Is this really necessary?" asked
Mira
.

"I guess not," answered Elias.  He looked at
Mira
, disappointment dripping from his features.  "Party pooper."
  He peeled the woman's hand off of his own.

The woman searched her rescuers' faces for any assistance. 
"What?  Are you people crazy?  We need to get out of here.  They. Are. Eating. People.  Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly," Elias said.  He reached into his knapsack and pulled out a globe.  "And we would li
ke you to join in."  He eyed
Mira
and she briskly walked away.  Once she was a safe distance he placed the globe on the sand.

"What are you doing?" the woman asked as the weapon snicked open.  The other
s
left her as the bomb exploded, covering the woman with
poison and
potion filled darts.  She thrashed upon the sand and Elias knew that indeed she would be feasting soon on the unfortunate humans not already converted.

Tame
sh
a
refused to look down a
s
she commenced to transit the rope, small hand over small hand.

She was halfway back to the attic when she froze. 

In the
attic
window stood the smiling face of one Henry
'Hank'
Bartholomew II. 

"Out for some exercise, darling?"

Tamesha looked down – it was at least a thirty foot drop onto the gravel path that separated the two structures.  She would probably break her legs and still be alive to be eaten
, married or both
.  She considered dropping anyway when a voice startled her from behind.

A burly man dressed in
black with a clerical collar adorning his neck
stood in the hayloft.  He held a knife in his hands.  "This is no activity for a bride on the morning of her wedding.  You should be resting child.  Let us put you back to bed."

He smiled that wide grin and Tamesha knew he was one of them.

"Meet Reverend Portlow, darling. 
He's the pastor of the First Lutheran Church of Daly City. 
He came in early for our wedding.   I had him in my old bedroom
watching TV
when he noticed you grunting around out here."

She looked back at Hank and he had a knife, too.  
"I think we'll just have to kill you
now my
darling.  I wanted to marry a human and have many babies but I guess we'll have to marry as zombies."  He dropped a silver globe to the ground.

"You'll feel some pain Tammy but once this works on you, the reverend says you won't feel any pain anymore."

She felt the rope vibrate as each began to saw at their ends.
  Tamesha held onto the rope but she knew she was dead, whether she held on or let go.   There was no hope – she would be a zombie.

Just then, there was a
red
flash behind Hank that distracted him.  He stopped sawing the rope and turned to look.  Portlow stopped sawing as well but it was too late – his side of the rope separated and Tamesha slammed into the side of the house.  She dropped the remaining ten feet onto the gravel and rolled twice before stopping.

Hank and Portlow
leaped from their perches.  They stood watching her and she didn't understand why until she heard the globe
approach
as its traction drive engaged and it began to roll in her direction.

Tamesha did not bother to get to her feet.  She knew enough not to give up hope again. 

She pulled the shotgun off her back, disengaged the safety. She calmly laid a box of shells on the ground.  She waited until the globe was close then she pulled the trigger.  She toppled backward
with the recoil
but when she had righted herself the globe was still coming – as we
re
Hank and Portlow. 

She aimed and fired again – this time the globe blew into bits. 

There was no time to celebrate as Hank and Portlow were almost on top of her.  She had time to load only one shell and she aimed the weapon in Portlow's direction.  The thing's right leg was blown off at the kneecap.  
Thick black b
lood sprayed far enough to reach her bare foot.
  Then
the beast she had damaged
grinned in her direction as Hank reached her and knocked the shotgun from her grasp.  He kicked the shells away.

He lifted her off the ground by her neck.
  The damaged zombie crawled more quickly now
in her direction
.

"You have been a very bad girl, Tammy.  I think I will take you now.  The reverend can marry us right now and we can have sex on the gravel."

She was having difficulty breathing and she knew she was about to black out.  She was too young to be married, especially to an unpleasant zombie boy like Hank. 

How dare he do this to me?

Tamesha Holloway felt not fear but anger. 
Her anger became unbridled rage. 
It coalesced inside of her and it made her remember the
long blade screwdriver she forgot to put back in the tool
box
.

She whipped the tool out of her side pocket and jammed it in the soft skin under Hank's jaw.  The monster screamed and dropped her to the gravel.