Life Among The Dead (Book 3): A Bittersweet Victory (13 page)

“Zombies don’t stab people.”

“Then we should drop her off at that base
back there, or go there ourselves instead of all the way
south.”

The other half of the quarreling pair, a
female, says, “He just killed a soldier. We can’t go there,
dumbass… Well, you and I can.”

“You two, and anyone else, can go there if
you want. But I am not going to lock myself away. Especially after
seeing one of theirs bite this poor girl and try to kill her.”

Vida groans and shifts against the plush
seat. She has no idea where these folks are taking her, but the
soothing voice of the man in back with her puts her at ease.

“This is my car,” the female adamantly
reminds the man. “I say we go to the base.”

“As I recall, Gloria, I loaned you a
substantial amount of money when you two found yourselves in a
financial pickle…” the man tells her. “Enough to get your heads
above water and put some aside for later. Instead of saving it, you
both decided to purchase this car. Unless you have $30,000 on you,
consider it repossessed.”

“Aren’t you going to say something, Howard?”
the one named Gloria asks. “Put your foot down?”

“He’s my dad, honey,” Howard says.

“You’re 35 fucking years old! Grow some
balls!”

Vida searches in the dark recesses of her
mind for a way into the light. She can tell Gloria is driving and
the one man, Howard, must be in the front passenger seat.

“Are you looking at her tits?” Gloria says to
Howard.

“Fuck, Gloria! Really?”

“You’re a married man! And she looks
underage, pervert!”

“I was reading her t-shirt!”

“Shut up, you two,” the calm man scolds the
couple up front. “She’s waking up.”

Vida charges through the gloom. She forces
herself to sit up in the backseat. The act of turning her head is
painful, but she feels she must to guarantee safety. All she needs
to know is that no one is planning on hurting her.

“Easy,” the calm man tells her. The thick
bandage he placed on her neck wound has come loose, so he gently
re-fastens the tape. “You sure must have been through a lot. You
didn’t even react when I cleaned this with antiseptic. They say
human bites are particularly nasty. I didn’t want to take any
chances with infection.”

Cold and vulnerable, Vida wants to wrap
Brandon’s sweatshirt tightly around herself, but finding the
sentimental garment missing causes her panic. She wonders if she’s
been disrobed, but her hands and eyes confirm she has clothes on.
However the cotton and denim aren’t enough to relax her, and she
covers herself with her hands.

The man next to her makes a soothing sound.
He keeps his distance and holds his palms up to let her know he
means no harm. “We removed the sweatshirt to look for more wounds,
dear. That’s all.”

She stares into his kind blue eyes, ready to
fight should she need to. “Where are you taking me?”

“Anywhere you’d like,” the gray-haired man
says. “My name is Gabriel. This is my son, Howard, and his wife,
Gloria.”

“Vida,” she says, yet doesn’t lower her
guard.

“You were near Fort Eagle Rock. Want us to
take you there?” Gloria asks in a hopeful tone.

“No!”

“Is there any place else you’d like to go?”
Gabe asks.

“Somewhere safe.”

“What a coincidence.” Gabe smiles. “That’s
just where we’re heading. I have a place in Harrington, Florida.
It’s quite a drive, but well worth it. I have lots of land, peach
trees, and some livestock. You’re welcome to join us if you
wish.”

Something about this man puts her at ease.
She doesn’t give his invitation a response just yet, Instead she
looks out the back window and is surprised to find a train of
vehicles following them.

“We’ve assembled a convoy,” Gabe says with
pride. “I was visiting my son and his wife up north when all this
happened. We gathered all we could and hit the road this
morning.”

The blue car Vida currently rides in leads
the convoy through the canyon she had driven through alone earlier.
Not long after passing a sheer stone wall cut long ago to make way
for the highway, the car pulls off the road.

“What are you doing?” Howard asks his
wife.

“Your dad said to pull into the next rest
area.”

“Why?”

“So we can all rest,” Gabriel says. “It’s a
long journey and everyone needs to stay alert. We can gas up and
catch some sleep. We’ll start out again at first light.”

“We should keep moving,” Howard says.

“It will be getting dark before long. Safer
to travel in the light of day,” Gabe says.

Howard surrenders the debate, and he and his
wife launch into a fresh quarrel about how Gloria has parked their
car. Gabriel offers Vida an apologetic shrug. She smiles in return,
slipping into the sweatshirt that he gives back to her.

The thin hoodie is all she has to remember
Brandon by, along with the t-shirt she wears. These are now her
only worldly possessions--two blood stained garments of sentimental
value and the rest of what she wears. Somehow the fleece makes her
feel safer as she pulls it tightly around her body. She’d rather it
be Brandon’s arms, but this is as close as she’ll ever get.

No one asks her about what happened back
there on the road. Like some unspoken agreement, it is left as an
off-limits topic. They must figure she’ll talk when she’s
ready.

They are all nice people, even Gloria and
Howard with their near constant bickering, and everyone works
together to orchestrate the pit stop. Some watch the road and
perimeter while holding the only two rifles they have, along with
an assortment of blunt weapons, while others babysit the children
at the center of the rest area. Vehicles are fueled and people are
fed. Then they prepare to hunker down for the night, trying not to
think of what daybreak will bring.

Feeling less refreshed from the overnight
rest then they expected, folks prepare for departure. They stretch
out cramped muscles.

The temperature dropped drastically during
the night, and folks resisted the urge to turn on their cars for
heat since gas must be conserved. A tense slumber and stress from
the road have the survivors grumbling for their routine fixes of
caffeine and tobacco. Only those in dire need are willing to
satisfy their addictions with bitter instant coffee served cold and
stale, plus weather-beaten cigarette butts from the rest area’s
brimming ashtrays.

Canned fruits, beans, and other
non-perishables constitute the unsatisfactory breakfast they all
share. This is what they could salvage from the food collection bin
at the shelter up north in Manitoba before leaving.

They had sought refuge in the basement of a
recreation center that doubled as one of the community’s storm
bunkers. Huddled together, they listened to events unfold on an
emergency radio. This live broadcast turned to dead air when the
man reporting the news shot himself. Then an incessant recorded
loop of his voice took over, until the radio’s batteries finally
died.

The survivors saw no hope of lasting very
long once the canned goods and emergency rations were depleted, so
the consensus was to head off together. Some abandoned this initial
plan when Vida was picked up from the road. Instead they decided to
go to Eagle Rock, but the majority continues south.

Vida turned down a change of clothes offered
by Gloria. Not that she doesn’t like the woman’s style, but she
just isn’t ready to part with Brandon’s things yet. Now she listens
to Gloria and Howard’s constant fighting.

“I’m just saying, you could have parked it
between the lines,” Howard once again critiques his wife’s parking
job from last night.

“And I’m just saying, who fucking cares?”

Vida whispers to Gabe, “Are they always like
this?”

“No. They usually throw things. You know, I
don’t think I’ll be able to stand another day in a car with them.
How about you?”

Vida isn’t sure how Gabe earned the respect
of the other survivors, but he’s clearly the one in charge of the
convoy. His voice never raises or falters. It remains level and
carries a certain gravity that lets a listener know they can trust
every word. He’s the type of person that makes promises one can
take to the bank.

The survivors load themselves up and get
ready for departure. Gabe strides back to his son’s car and leans
down to the driver’s side window to speak with Gloria. Once again,
his daughter-in-law will be driving. She and Howard argued about
who would be taking the wheel, but she apparently won the debate.
They may not be able to hurl objects at one another on the road,
but their attacks and barbs have only gotten more personal. It is
often Howard who instigates, as if not having control of the
vehicle means he must gain control elsewhere.

“Vida and I are going to ride with Pastor
Jim,” Gabe tells the pair in a rare moment of silence between them.
The tension inside the car radiates out, and Howard’s arms cross in
a pout.

“Are you sure?” Gloria’s rage melts away and
she shows concern for her father-in-law.

“He said so, didn’t he?” Howard says.

Gabe quickly leads Vida away as the cold war
inside the blue car becomes very hot. Voices raise and curses fly
until they are suppressed by the raising window.

“They don’t even seem to like each other,”
Vida says. “Why do they stay married?”

“On the contrary, they love one another very
much. But they also love to argue. It’s what they have most in
common. I just spent three weeks with them at their house up north.
If you think their bickering is loud, you should hear their
reconciliation.”

Vida chuckles as Gabe shakes his head. “They
didn’t really do it with you in the house, did they?”

“I’m surprised they didn’t do it last night
with us in the car.”

Vida and Gabe stop at a white panel van with
a large cross painted on its side and the words
Saint
John’s
. The man behind the wheel manually cranks down his
window when he notices them.

Gabe makes the introductions, “Pastor Jim,
this is Vida. Would you mind if we joined you on the road?”

“Kids at it again?”

“That would imply that they’ve ever stopped,”
Gabe quips.

“I’ve seen couples fight right up to the
altar. Some even right after. That pair are the only two I’ve ever
married that argued during the ceremony.”

Though many felt leery of Vida’s presence at
first, despite Gabriel’s assurance that her bite wound was made by
a human, the pastor accepts them with a smile. “Hop in!”

Once they’ve settled in the back, among boxes
of musty clothes that Pastor Jim had planned on taking to a church
fundraising bazaar, Gloria’s horn blares at the front of the pack.
In succession, each vehicle returns the gesture to let her know
they are ready. Back on the road, the convoy continues south,
heading for what they hope are greener pastures.

“Gloria said she offered you a change of
clothes and you turned them down…” Gabe says.

Vida fidgets, adjusting her blood caked
garments before attempting to explain herself. “These shirts… are
special to me.”

That’s all she volunteers and he doesn’t
press for more. When she’s ready, she knows there are plenty of
clothes to wear. Vida will tell him her story in her own time.

“We’re stopping?” Pastor Jim says.

“Already?” Gabe cranes to see the road
ahead.

There must be something wrong.

The train of hopeful travelers comes to a
halt where a large black truck is parked across the road.
That
wasn’t
here
before
, Vida recalls,
having taken this road just yesterday.

From around the truck, a black haired man
emerges, holding a rifle level with the convoy. He releases a quick
salvo, peppering Gloria’s hood and dotting every door down the
line. “Everybody out!”

Gabe quickly transplants handfuls of clothes
from one box to another to make room. “Vida, get in! Hurry!”

“What about you?” she asks with concern.

“I’ll be all right,” he assures her as she
hides. “I promise.”

She can only hide and pray that Gabe remains
true to his word. She trembles in the nest of rags as she watches
him slide out into the unknown situation, leaving her alone.

The motorists are ordered to get on their
knees along their vacant rides with no exceptions. Men, women, and
children alike are held at gunpoint by three men. Another truck
blocks the rear of the procession to prevent escape. The black
haired man talks while his collaborators aim their weapons.

“Good news, folks!” he says. “You have all
been selected to come with us to our place. It’s secure. We have
food and plenty of guns and ammo. We’re looking to fill positions
in our militia, and we want you!” He points at the group like Uncle
Sam on the old recruitment posters. “So after my men make room in
this van, we’ll load you all up and head for our base of
operations.”

He has singled out Pastor Jim’s van, and Gabe
fears what they may do to Vida should they find her hiding. He
fears for all the members of his group that have put their trust in
him to get them to safety. He raises his hand and clears his
throat. "Excuse me, sir. We’re already on our way to Florida. We
appreciate your offer, but we really must decline.”

The thug doesn’t look pleased by this
challenge to his authority. He grabs Gabe by his shirt and pulls
him out of the lineup.

Unable to fight or pull away, Gabe is yanked
along the rough surface of the road. The leader of the trio lifts
him to eye level and glares menacingly. His voice is a growl.
“You’ll go where I say you’ll go!”

“Hey!” Gloria stands up after Gabe is tossed
back to the hard ground, and she rushes to his side. “What the fuck
is wrong with you? He’s an old man!”