Life Among The Dead (Book 3): A Bittersweet Victory (17 page)

Vida is amazed by the sight. She’s only seen
this much snow on television, and it’s so beautiful she can’t
believe it. The sun shines down upon the frozen world of white and
hurts her eyes, but she just can’t look away.

Though they’ve grown close, they know little
about how each other survived before their meeting. Vida tells Gabe
of the Zombie House and of Brandon. She tells him about the long
walk to the bridge and about Brad. Gabe’s own tale isn’t as tense.
In fact it was quite tame in comparison. He tells her the story
nonetheless.

###

Many people in Manitoba were lost. Gabe
didn’t lose anyone personally, but it doesn’t diminish the tragedy
in his eyes. He had travelled up there weeks before to visit his
son and daughter-in-law, but had hoped to be back home before the
real bad weather struck.

At the onset of the occurrence, he and his
family ran to the town’s recreation center. The reporter on
television said to stay indoors, but at the bottom of the screen a
scrolling ticker displayed the names of places folks could go.

Gabe, Gloria, and Howard were the first to
arrive, second only to Pastor Jim, who was running the place as a
rescue station.

The sheriff arrived next and took over
admitting folks after checking them for bites. Having already
undergone their once over from the lawman, Gabe, Howard, and Gloria
waited in the gymnasium with Pastor Jim. Gabe can’t say for certain
if any infected individuals arrived at the door or not. He can’t
recall hearing a telltale shot, signaling someone being put down.
He assumes the officer separated anyone possibly bitten from the
other survivors, or turned them away.

Men, women, and children waited together in
huddled clusters of families and friends. Those let in all alone
found a place among the groupings, for they were all in it
together.

They needed to be doing something, even if
that something boiled down to doing absolutely nothing.

Gabe brought the children over to the game
equipment and told them all to play quietly. To alleviate parental
concerns, he remained with the young ones, though they were never
out of sight of their mothers and fathers.

The diversion of having things to play with
didn’t last long, since the children couldn’t make the ruckus their
heart’s yearned for. Glazed expressions of tedium set upon their
faces as they silently rolled balls back and forth between them.
Given too much time to dwell on the monsters they were hiding from,
a few began to cry. The only joy they had was when the radio’s
battery finally gave out in the dark and Gabriel joked to them in a
whisper, “I think it died of boredom.”

For the first time since they had met, Howard
and Gloria were not fighting. The fact didn’t escape Gabe’s notice
as the couple tenderly held one another. Gabe also knew this to be
a bad thing. Though there wasn’t much to fight about they seldom
missed an opportunity to quarrel. To say they fought like cats and
dogs would be putting it mildly. It was their brand of foreplay,
which commenced at the dawning of everyday and concluded when they
finally decide to just get down to it. Gabriel always brought
plenty of earplugs to wear to bed when he visited. The sight of the
two not at each other’s throats, or coyly fondling one another,
should have been a relief, but Gabe knew it meant they were scared.
Far too scared to even consider their routine, even if they had the
privacy to carry it out after their prelude.

Looking back now, Gabe can only blame himself
for igniting the passionate brawls on the road when he mentioned to
them that they should perhaps head for his home. The idea of
returning to their comforting, seemingly turbulent, marriage
thrilled them.

One survivor overheard this and told another,
and soon there was a group around Gabe, asking to join him. He
couldn’t refuse them, but did warn that the road trip might be
dangerous. Those willing to risk their lives and leave the cold gym
for more comfortable accommodations gathered what little they had
brought to the shelter with them. They raided the sporting goods
closet for weapons, turning up field hockey sticks and baseball
bats. The only ones to stay behind were the sheriff and a man with
an infant.

The man had lost his wife and was too afraid
to take his precious little girl out into the world. She’s all he
had left in it. The sheriff refused to leave because he wanted to
direct folks to Gabe’s place, should anyone venture to the
shelter.

The rest Vida already knew. Gabe and his
people left the town of Manitoba at first light the next day, just
happening by at the right moment to save her.

The two find very little to talk about after
Gabe’s story. The unchanging scene outside offers them no
inspiration for dialogue. Just a blank canvas of white.

Farther southeast, and a day deeper into the
apocalypse, the blanket of white thins until all they see is green.
An illusion of spring that not only tells them they are getting
closer to their goal, but also that they must take more precaution.
They noticed the dead in the winter wonderland moved a lot slower,
due to the cold climate. The warmer it gets the faster they’ll
be.

Thanks to Howard’s forethought, taught to him
by Gabriel, they can gas up using a siphon hose from the trunk. Now
that they are clear of the snow and ice, the two fuel their ride
together. Gabe gets the fluid moving from the donor vehicle, but he
has Vida hold the tubing during the transfusion so he can keep
watch. Though warmer temperatures mean the dead will be more
active, it is the living that have the pair most concerned.

When Vida asked Gabe if he thought they’d
encounter more men like Brad, or the three that attacked their
convoy, he truthfully told her he had no idea, and he wouldn’t lie
to her just to ease her mind. All he can assure her is he’ll do his
best to get her home.

The absence of snow and ice allows them to
drive faster. Their simple strategy is to keep pushing and rest
only when absolutely necessary. They are on rural roads now in
hopes of avoiding the threats plaguing their thoughts.

The tactic of utilizing the side roads was
also to avoid congestion that may hinder their progress, but not
all gambles pay off. They must weave around, and regrettably run
over, strewn corpses that pollute their path. A battle between the
living and the dead has obviously taken place on the route they
have chosen, and shambling figures along the sides and in the
surrounding woods make them question which side won.

Once clear of the decaying debris, a pop
startles them. The sedan wobbles from a blowout and pulls to the
left. Gabe ignores the rules of the road by not taking his ride to
the right and instead lets it drift to a stop.

“Oh, no!” Vida says from the back, where she
has been resting up to take over for Gabe once he gets too tired to
continue. “Of all the places to have a flat.”

“It’ll be all right,” he tells her. Though
his words are calm, his face gives away his apprehension over
leaving the safety of the car with all the walking dead around. “We
just ran over something.”

“Do you have a spare?”

“I’m sure my son at least has a donut in the
trunk. It’ll suit us just fine.” Gabe moves to get out, but Vida
notices he doesn’t take the .22 pistol he has stored in the center
console. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t you want help?”

“I have changed many a flat in my day. Some
in far worse conditions than this.”

“Where the hell was this?” she asks.
“Vietnam?”

“As a matter of fact…” He smiles before
exiting.

Instead of taking the pistol, he takes the
rifle. Vida notices Gabe has left the keys in the ignition, popped
the trunk, and hit the automatic lock before getting out. At first
she finds the action odd because he has removed his ability to
enter in a hurry, but considering the man’s nature she knows he did
it out of her best interest, wanting to take every possible
precaution.

The trunk yields a spare as he had assumed,
along with every tool required to do the job. Gabe quickly slides
the jack in place under the frame and cranks the front end up. The
lugs are a bit problematic, but he is able to bust them loose. He
wants to get the job done as fast as possible, and he knows they
didn’t run over anything that could do this. A quick inspection of
the damaged wheel reveals a small puncture.

Once the spare is mounted, Gabe quickly
tightens the lugs, going from one nut to its opposing mate. He
wants the job done right, no matter what happens next. He prays
that he is just being paranoid and this was not the work of foul
play.

“Car trouble?” a voice asks from behind,
squashing his prayer.

Since whoever this is already has the drop on
him, Gabriel gives each lug one last jolt with his tire iron before
rising to his feet and turning slowly. A man stands on the
roadside, a rifle across his shoulders. Gabe’s still leans against
the fender.

“Yes,” he answers, trying to sound casual.
“Just a flat.”

“Why don’t you put down the iron and take a
few steps away from that gun?” the man says, taking aim.

Gabe does as instructed, facing what he
expected. He knows Vida is smart enough to have gotten down out of
sight. He hopes under the cover of one of their blankets. Powerless
to stop whatever is about to transpire, Gabe puts his hands in the
air.

The gunman is wearing camouflage, but it
isn’t military. His outfit consists of material printed with an
actual photograph of the forest. “You got anything good in
there?”

“Just supplies.”

The man reaches for the door handle after a
quick peek in the back.

Gabe shrugs bashfully. “I think I locked my
keys inside.”

A couple cursory tugs on the handle and a
glimpse at the ignition makes the man laugh. “This ain’t the best
time to be going senile, old man. You got Triple A?”

The dead have gotten too close for
comfort.

“Come on, dumbass,” the man says. “We’re
going for a walk.”

Vida raises her head above the door panel
from under the shroud of emergency blankets. Gabriel is being taken
into the woods by a man with a gun, leaving her all alone.

###

Trudging through the forest at gunpoint, Gabe
follows his captor’s instructions like an automaton. They walk left
or right until they come to a trail that they follow deeper into
the woods.

Gabe detects the smoky aroma of a campfire
and the voices of two men talking and laughing.

“…She always expected me to be some kinda
marathon man. I was like, ‘Honey, if we did it more often, I’d be
able to last longer.’ She never did get it,” one man says. “What
did she expect when we’d go weeks in between, right? The fucking
pressure’d get so built up, we were done before we’d even get
started.”

“Why didn’t you just do it yourself in
between?” another says.

“That’s exactly what she used to say! How the
hell was I supposed to know when she’d be in the mood or not? Plus,
do you think she’d let me have porn? No, of course not! They say
love is never having to say you’re sorry. Well marriage should be
never having to jerk yourself off!”

“I’ve never thought about it that way.” This
voice sounds younger than the other man, but neither is being very
covert.

“There was this one time she wasn’t in the
mood. As usual, on her period. I swear she was always on her
friggin’ period. So I ask for a blowie. She asks if a hand job will
do. What am I, fourteen? There I am busting my ass, day after day,
to give her all she could ever want or need. At least what I wanted
was fuckin’ free.”

“Is that why you divorced?”

“Not entirely. She was giving that one thing
I wanted to another dude. In hindsight, she wasn’t the marrying
kind. Lured me in with the trap.”

“The trap?”

“Being hot and willing around the clock. So I
moved her in and it was like living at the Playboy Mansion. It’s
certainly true what they say. Men have more sex when they live with
their girlfriend than married guys and single guys on the prowl. We
were like rabbits until the damn rings went on…”

“Yup,” the man escorting Gabriel agrees as he
enters the small campsite. “Then you’re still like a rabbit. Just
in a snare, being clubbed to death. You assholes are making enough
noise, aren’t you?”

Gabe is made to sit on a log near the fire.
He has no idea what their intentions are, so he just observes
them.

The youngest of the campers looks to be in
his early twenties. “Couldn’t you have just tried another
position?” he asks the divorcee. “I read that men cum faster in
missionary. You could’ve had her on top, or tried doggy…”

The sideways glare he receives shuts his
mouth.

The man that captured Gabe says, “Uh oh,
Skeet, I think our little friend has just broken the cardinal rule
of male bonding.”

“I do believe you’re right, Butch. We’ll have
to punish him for that.”

“That’s bullshit!” the little friend in
question says. “I stopped pooping too close to…”

“Not the first rule of camping!” Butch
corrects. “When it comes to dudes hanging out, you never ever blame
the guy.”

Skeet nods emphatically. “When we complain
about the old exes, we back each other up. You should’ve said
something like; ‘fuck her,’ or ‘she had no idea how good she had
it,’ even a ‘you’re better off without her.’”

“That last one may no longer be applicable of
course, since for all we know all women are gone,” Butch says. “Any
poon in a storm is better than none, I suppose.”

“True. We can learn from old Butch here. He’s
willing to improvise.” Skeet, the divorcee, indicates Gabe. “I
would ask what took you so long, my man, but your new girlfriend
certainly does have a purdy mouth. Are those wedding bells I hear,
or just banjoes?”