Life Among The Dead (Book 3): A Bittersweet Victory (16 page)

Howard prepares for his perfect spiral,
dodging invisible tacklers. “Don’t forget, dear, I took the team to
the championship.”

“You took the bus to the championship…”
Gloria’s remark offsets his aim. The perfect spiral wobbles in the
air and. the ball lands two feet away from its intended receiver
then bounces on the hard surface.

“You’re supposed to run for those!” Howard
says.

“You rode the pine while you were there?”
Gloria torments. “Is benchwarmer an actual position?”

The soldiers overseeing the survivors can’t
help but chuckle at the two.

“Gloria, light of my life, reason I drink,
should I tell everyone about the three days you spent on the
cheerleading squad?” Howard speaks loudly so all around can hear.
“Which ended after some lurid photos of you in school colors
emerged.”

“You took those photos, you asshole!” On her
feet and ready to fight, Gloria notices their car leaving town and
Gabriel and the girl are nowhere to be seen. “Where’s your dad
going?”

Howard turns to look for his father, and the
distraction causes him to catch the ball with the back of his head.
But he ignores the thump.

Rash and Lynton approach him, and Rash wipes
the remaining tears from her eyes. “Sir, your father is taking his
granddaughter to El Paso…”

“Granddaughter? She’s not his granddaughter,”
Howard says. “I’m an only child, and there’s no way in hell I’d
ever make a kid with that.” He hitches a thumb at Gloria.

“Get everyone loaded up!” Lynton tells the
milling soldiers.

Rash looks towards the edge of town. The man
and his ‘granddaughter’ are long gone. “Not a word, Zee,” she warns
Lynton. “Not one fucking word!”

On the road again, heading south away from
Poland Creek, Vida hugs her ‘grandfather.’ “Thank you so much!”

“I told you everything would be all
right.”

“I thought you were lying to make me feel
better.”

“I don’t lie.”

“You lied to that soldier,” Vida points
out.

“No, I simply embellished the truth. I was a
salesman for many years. I could sell a thunderstorm on a clear
summer’s day. All I did back there was sell that nice young lady a
story--a tale of love, loss, and sacrifice. I told her that I
promised to get you home and that’s exactly the truth. There was no
reason for you to die, and I have no intentions of being corralled
on a military base.”

They push south, and their relationship grows
even stronger, as if they truly share the deceptive bond they had
faked. Vida imagines there’s nothing she can’t face as long as she
has Gabe at her side.

As if testing her theory, fat flakes of snow
drift lazily from the dark sky above. In the still of the world,
they can actually hear them hitting their windshield. Having heard
rumors about the projected severity of this impending winter, Gabe
had hoped to beat the snow. But Vida raptly watches the dancing
flurries of her first snowfall.

Gabe remains calm, keeping them moving over
the building sheet that crunches under their tires. His confidence
comes from experience and the knowledge his son undoubtedly has
emergency winter gear in the trunk already.

Gabe doesn’t wish to stop just yet, though it
grows difficult to see the lines on the road. To stop will mean
digging themselves out and attempting to plow through higher
drifts, since the roads will not be cleared for them. It could
spell disaster, from the looks of the accumulation.

Vida wishes to fall asleep but feels guilty
since Gabe can’t. It’s too quiet to sleep anyway. Without Howard
and Gloria’s fighting to fill the silence, Vida dwells on
everything she’s seen and been through. She stews in the constant
fear and uncertainty that comes with the new world.

“Why do they do it?” she asks softly.

“Who and what, dear?”

“Everyone. Everything.” She shakes her head.
“The soldiers, the clown, the men that attacked us, the one that
bit me…”

“Life has irrevocably been altered,” Gabe
says. “There are no rules. Some, like the soldiers and Mr. Rottom,
choose to be heroes. Others took a taste of the freedom that comes
with a crumbling civilization, and they liked it. They let their
ids take over. If it feels good, they do it. If they want
something, they take it. I wish I knew what makes some choose to be
sinners or saints.”

“Can you promise me that we’ll make it home?”
she begs.

“No.” Being a man true to his words, Gabe
refuses to sugarcoat them. “I can’t promise something that I can’t
deliver. I am not going to lie to you. I have no idea what’s down
this road or the next, but I can promise to do my best, to try like
hell to keep you safe, as long as you do the same for me.”

“I promise.”

Fresh from another crushing defeat, Marko and
his men loaded themselves into the small red truck. A tight fit,
but they had no choice since the black full-ton was disabled.

The trio struck north to Fallen, for Marko
has designs on his lost love. She’s the only thing on the planet
that has ever made him feel adequate and worth a damn. He needs
Carla more than ever, feeling emasculated and pathetic. He bets, at
this point, she’ll be happy to see him as well.
If
she
ain’t
dead
already
.

Behind the wheel, Marko presses the
accelerator down as hard as he can, driven by desire. The speed
causes Jessie and Biff to whoop and laugh with excitement, but they
struggle to watch the old couple from the camper dragging behind
them, skipping along the rough surface likes stones on a calm
pond.

Visions of his lovely ex-girlfriend, and
thoughts of their reunion, make Marko shift in his seat from the
growing bulge between his legs. He doesn’t notice when the snow
begins to fall, nor does he notice when a man walks out onto the
road, until it is too late.

“Marko, lookout!” Jessie screams to no
avail.

The path Marko took leads them past a line of
military vehicles parked just outside a vast estate’s high stone
wall. One of the soldiers chose the wrong moment to step onto the
pavement.

Marko, wide eyed and fully alert, ignores the
thump and keeps going. He presses even harder on the gas, fearing
retribution.

“They’re coming!” Biff says, upon noticing
the troops mobilizing.

Marko slips off of the highway and onto one
of the side routes he grew up on. He doesn’t stop, but weaves his
way using the rural roads to get to Carla’s home.

Their knocks go unanswered and Marko grows
impatient. Biff says she must be home since the porch light came on
when they pulled in.

“It’s a sensor, jackass!” Marko snaps.

Rather than stand around in the falling snow,
Marko orders Jessie and Biff to take the door off its hinges. They
give him uncomfortable frowns, but know better than to question
Marko, especially in the current mood he is in.

The men enter. Leaving his accomplices at the
front door, Marko explores the trailer. For the first time in his
life, he feels worried about someone other than himself.

Carla emerges from hiding when he calls her
name, looking amazing as she stands in a slip of a nightgown. She
also looks none too pleased to see him.

Rambling, Marko lays out his plan. They’ll be
king and queen of the apocalypse. He fumbles his words, getting
ahead of himself while his fingers fidget anxiously. The sour look
she greeted him with never sweetens, and once he has concluded his
grandiose scheme, she tells him to get out.

He attempts to convince her but she refuses
to hear him. So he follows her around the cramped, dark home, still
trying to persuade Carla. Finally he grabs her arm to get her to
listen, explaining that she’s better off with him than facing this
world alone. She remarks on how she once thought that way, even
before all of this, but realized she is more than capable of
handling herself.

Marko becomes insistent, telling her that
she’s coming, willing or not, for her own good. Dragging her to the
door, he tells her that in time she will see he is right. But she
fights to get free, even after he slaps her hard across the face.
Her younger brother, Sid, comes out of hiding to aid his sister,
only to get punched in the nose.

Carla screams out as Jessie and Biff
reluctantly pick her up and carry her out into the cold, dark
world.

At the truck, the cousins put her down. She’s
barefoot in the snow and struggling to get free. Marko comes a bit
too close, giving her the opportunity to kick him in his groin.

The seconds it takes him to recover only
fuels his rage. He slaps her once again and points to the ground.
He wants his men to lay her out for him and hold her down. Marko
aims to teach her respect and to know her place in his kingdom. A
cold, hard lesson right here in the snow.

Carla is far too small to get free of the
massive men that have her pinned by her wrists and ankles, though
she squirms and writhes to get away from Marko as he unzips his
pants. He stares down as she fights, and he is turned on by how she
moves her body. It reminds him of happier times when she once moved
the same way willingly.

As he’s about to reunite with Carla, a shot
rings out in the night. The back of Jessie’s head explodes in a
shower of gore just before he falls backwards. Marko and Biff
search the darkness beyond the motion sensitive lights, but they
are unable to see anything in the gloom. It’s like being in a snow
globe.

Another shot rings out and Biff falls on top
of Carla. She is free, but has to crawl out from under her deceased
captor to get back into the safety of her modest home.

Marko has never felt more scared in all his
life as he scans the edge of darkness, hoping to get the drop on
whoever has robbed him of his loyal subjects and his queen.

“And the cheese stands alone,” the night
visitor mocks him. Before he can track the voice to know where to
shoot, another round is discharged.

Marko’s shoulder sears with blinding pain,
and he has lost his pistol. Dropping to his knees, his good arm
desperately clears the thick snow to find his weapon. He wishes he
hadn’t asked Jessie to hold his assault rifle.

Headlights flare on and draw near. Marko must
use his one good arm to shield his eyes form the glare. He thinks
too late to go for the slung rifles of his fallen comrades.

A shadow passes in front of the high beams
and he grows still. Blind to the identity of his tormentor, his
ankle is seized and Marko is dragged away from any hope of saving
himself.

The phantom just leaves him in the snow.
He
isn’t
afraid
of
me
, Marko
thinks. He’s made his way through life by using intimidation,
coasting on the fear he instilled in others. Now he’s on the
receiving end, learning what it feels like to be truly terrified.
Shots in the dark behind him make him cringe like a small dog
during a storm.

The phantom isn’t shooting at him. Marko
knows he’s putting down the two zombies he and the boys had fun
with. The world was theirs for the taking, but now his dreams are
shattered and he is powerless to stop it.

Just
kill
me
already
, he thinks, but he doesn’t get off that light. The
phantom rebukes his mental plea for a quick death by revving
Marko’s chainsaw to life. Ragged puffs of frigid air freeze Marko’s
lungs just as he’s frozen in place. The whirling, devastating blade
draws near, sounding even more frightening in the still of the
night. A foot pushes him to the ground. Though he’s seen what the
chainsaw can do to flesh firsthand, he uses his good arm to shield
his face.

The phantom speaks nonsense about carving
turkeys on Thanksgiving, but all Marko hears is the idling motor of
his saw, and all he can do is relieve his bladder. He cries,
curling into a fetal position as he waits for inescapable
agony.

The saw shuts off, leaving an awkward
emptiness in the air. Marko can’t help but open one of his tightly
closed eyes. The mystery man tosses the power tool aside, then he
speaks once more and kicks him in the face. The lesson concludes,
and every tensed muscle in Marko’s body melts into the snow. The
man simply wanted him to know the degree of fear that Carla felt,
that all of his victims had to endure, driving his point home by
example.

“But I can’t let you live.”

These words snap Marko from his relaxed
state. He stares into the barrel of a large caliber pistol, but at
this range it may as well be a Howitzer. All of his life he has
feared nothing except the law, and most recently the dead. This,
his final night, he learns that no police officer, game warden, or
zombie is as fearsome as the man that takes his life.

Gabe pushed as far as he could east before
surrendering to fatigue. Afraid of losing control, he hardly used
the gas once the storm worsened. Making matters worse, he struggled
to keep his eyes open.

Under his instruction, Vida drowsily climbed
into the backseat. She pulled open a panel in the backrest that
leads into the trunk and felt around for a couple of blankets. They
nestled in for the night, gladly giving themselves permission to
sleep no matter what the next day held.

They awake at the break of day after a bone
chilling slumber to find they haven’t been completely buried by the
deep snow. In his blind parking job, Gabe placed them under an
overpass that blocked a great deal of accumulation. The stroke of
luck spares them from having to clean too much off the car, but
their backend is thickly frosted with a layer of windblown snow. It
also gives Gabe the ability to take a run at the snow covered road,
since under the overpass is merely dusted. He plows through the
drifts without the horsepower required for such work. But he
manages to cut his way east.