Life Among The Dead (Book 3): A Bittersweet Victory (18 page)

Another staple of the male bonding
experience: ball-busting. They all have a laugh as Butch grins and
takes it until he has his own barb to sling. “Gentlemen, meet our
new insurance policy. What’s your name, old timer?”

“Gabriel.”

“Welcome to the team, Gabriel.” Skeet raises
a beer to him as Butch binds his hands with a length of rope. “I
hope you last longer than our last policy.”

“What do you mean by insurance policy?”

“We need to find shelter if we want to
survive this. When we find a place, we send you in to flush out
whatever is lurking inside, and then we take care of them.”

This information leads Gabe to the
realization that something went awry with their previous attempt.
He figures the life expectancy for this particular role on the team
isn’t very long, but he isn’t concerned with his own safety. It’s
Vida he thinks about. Gabe is worried she’s going to try and rescue
him rather than heading for his farm. She has a map and knows the
general direction, and he even showed her a picture of the place.
Having failed himself for not being quick enough is a hard pill to
take, but not knowing if she’ll make it there seems a far worse
outcome.

The laughter and jokes made by the three
resume, at the expense of Gabe. But a snapping twig halts their
frivolity.

“Do you smell that, boys?” Butch asks his
friends, sniffing the air as an unexpected visitor arrives at the
site.

“Is that what I think it is?” Skeet says.
“Could that be the sweet smell of… weed?”

“Not just any weed, man. My own personal
strain.” A raggedy man sits among them without an invite, right
next to Gabe. He offers a grubby hand to the captive, but Gabe
can’t return the gesture since his wrists are lashed together. “The
name’s Gar.”

Along with the inviting smell of the smoke
drifting from the man’s hand-rolled cigarette comes the strong
stench of his body. The men have their weapons trained on him, yet
he shows them absolutely no regard. He even goes so far as to lay
his rifle on the ground next to him so he can pull his backpack off
and set it in his lap.

“What’cha doing in there?” Skeet asks the
shaggy man, when he rummages through said bag.

“I’m rolling you guys three of the fattest
fatties you’ve ever seen, from the dopest dope you’ll ever smoke,”
Gar says. He squints when irritating smoke enters his eyes. “It
feels good to sit. I’ve been on the road for a while.”

Skeet and Butch relax as the stoner rolls
them up some joints.

Butch asks, “Where’re you coming from?”

“Waterloo. It’s a pretty big city up--”

“We know what Waterloo is.” Skeet waves off
the needless explanation. “Did you say you walked all the way
here?”

“Not all of it. I left there in a car, drove
it until it died, grabbed another one, ran
it
until
it
died. Once the snow cleared up, I just decided to hoof
it.”

“Where are you going?” the youngest of the
campers asks.

“Nowhere.” Gar shakes his head. “I’m just
wandering the country, spreading the love.”

“Giving out joints?”

“Exactly! And planting the seeds for a
greener tomorrow. At every mile marker I come across, I’m sowing my
lovely Mary Jane for future generations. I do miss my hydroponic
setup, but my strain will grow anywhere.” He holds up one of the
illicit smokes. The men gasp at the sight of his handiwork, and he
inspects it carefully. He doesn’t hand it off just yet, but sets it
aside and starts rolling more while the men wait, eager yet
patient.

“All that walking,” Skeet says. “No wonder
you smell so bad.”

“Au contraire.” Gar raises a finger. “The
smell is a good thing. It keeps the dead from bothering me. In
fact, I highly recommend it.”

“That’s how you got past the zombies on the
road.” Butch smiles. “You smell like them.”

“Yup. By the way, you may want to keep it
down since the only reason I found you was by how loud you’re
talking. I couldn’t help but overhear your plan on finding a safe
house. Pretty smart, just like a bunch of penguins.”

“Did he just call us penguins?” the young one
asks.

“No disrespect intended,” Gar says, while
examining the second blunt before beginning the third, as if on
autopilot. “I saw this nature show once where a bunch of penguins
stood around a hole in the ice and wanted to dive in, but they
couldn’t because there may have been hungry seals waiting for them
in the water. So they pushed one of their buddies in to see if it
was safe.” He changes the topic without warning. “You know, I’m
really enjoying the south. I’ve never been down this way before.
The growing conditions are just optimal. And I can’t believe how
many fireworks stands I’ve seen. There has to be one, like, every
half mile. All the good shit is gone though. Just sparklers and
lady fingers left--”

“Have you seen any women?” the youngest
asks.

“You’ll have to forgive Sammy,” Skeet says.
“If a man can die from blue balls, I think his days are
numbered.”

“We found a porno shop.” Butch laughs. “We
practically had to drag him outta the place. I think Gabe may very
well be a literal insurance policy for our asses if this boy goes
much longer. He has a desperate yearning to repopulate the earth
single handedly, if you catch my meaning.”

Gar bestows the men with their long awaited
fatties, which certainly live up to the name. Butch and Skeet
marvel at the heft of the gifts, then savor the aroma of the
contents. Gar hands them his lighter.

“I roll very tight, so you’ll have to work up
a good cherry. Fear not, I will leave you with plenty for later. I
can’t join you, for there are seeds to be sown and good deeds to be
done.”

“As far as ladies,” Gar turns to Sam, the
youngest, “I have only seen one so far since leaving Waterloo.
Well, one living girl that is. I came across her on the highway,
Pretty young thing. In fact, I doubt I’ve ever seen a prettier
girl, other than Kelly Peel.”

“Oh, Kelly Peel!” Sam says excitedly. “She’s
from Waterloo. Did you meet her?”

“Not in person. But I did spend the day with
her husband. The last day as a matter of fact. He was actually her
future ex at the time. He went off to reconcile with her the last I
saw of him. Did you know he cheated on her?”

“On Kelly Peel?” Sam is astounded. “What’d
the other chick have, like, three boobs?”

“That’s what I said!” Gar’s mood visibly
drops “The girl I told you about, the pretty young one, she had
just lost her grandfather in all of this and had to head south all
alone.”

“Shoulda gone with her,” Sam says, trying to
hold back a brief coughing fit.

“No. I’m a lone wolf and my mission takes
priority.” Gar slings his bag. “I have to spread Mary all over this
great country of ours and find people to help. Besides, I told her
I’d get her grandfather back.”

The tightly packed joints explode like
cartoon cigars, only instead of comedic charring they result in
broken teeth and bloody burns. The fireworks stands may have only
had sparklers and lady fingers left, but they were too great a
temptation for Gar to pass up. The petite explosives don’t pack
much of a punch, but enough to do some damage and distract the men
while Gar rescues Gabe.

“Come on!” Gar grabs his air rifle and Gabe’s
bound hands, pulling him from the log he sits on. He leads the
freed captive away from the howling men. Their caterwauling is more
than enough to summon the dead.

Figures emerge from the trees in front of the
fleeing pair, while the men recover from the startling but
nonlethal prank. Cries of pain turn into furious swearing of
retribution.

Gar shoves Gabe off the trail and jumps on
top of him, using his smelly body as a shield until the walking
corpses pick up the scent of the men he’s left bleeding by the
campfire.

The shuffling feet subside, and Gar brusquely
escorts his charge to the road where he lights a sparkler. When he
told Vida his plan, neither knew exactly where he’d pop out of the
woods, so this signals she can come and pick her grandfather
up.

Gar spots a mile marker he hasn’t planted at
yet. He quickly cuts Gabe loose before the blue sedan arrives, then
the potsmith kneels and makes five holes with his fingers in the
dry land. Moist soil is found just an inch below the crust. Into
each earthen womb he places a single seed, pointy end up, and
covers it. After a loving pat, he waters the ground with his
canteen. He says a few words over his babies now that they have
been committed to the soil.

Usually he offers words of encouragement, but
today it comes out as a eulogy. “I am so sorry, Mary. I know you
are not a weapon of war. You are a peaceful, awesome herb that
deserves to be treated with respect. But those men left me no
choice. They were evil. And heroes sometimes have to make hard
decisions. They were just like those jerk penguins on TV, man. A
bunch of bullies.”

Gabe enters the car only to be captured
again, happily, this time, in Vida’s tight embrace. “Oh my god!
Don’t ever do that to me again!”

After Gabe was taken from her, she cried. She
didn’t know if she should continue for their destination without
him, or wait for him to return, if he ever did.

The dead assembled around the sedan. She
couldn’t move, and hiding was pointless since the zombies had
already seen her inside. The first of the ghouls converging at the
window didn’t greet her with a lazy slap against the glass, but a
gentle rapping. Her eyes spilled tears as she looked at the zombie,
but instead of a terrible, lifeless gaze she only met a pair of
kind eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Gar had asked.

After Gar completes his mission, instead of
joining Gabe and Vida at the car, he just starts strolling away.
Screams and gunfire coming from the woods, the results of his
fireworks sabotage, do not frighten him. It’s just the men
defending themselves from the dead he lured to their camp.

The girl and her grandfather cruise alongside
the man, beseeching him to join them, to which he says, “No thank
you, folks. My work here is done…” he rethinks his answer.
“Actually it isn’t. I can plant more seeds at that marker. Your
work here is done. Wait, you guys really didn’t do anything. Just
sat there… I got it! Ask me again.”

“Gar, will you please join us?” Gabe repeats,
sounding confused.

“Afraid not, Gabe,” the stoner says in a
deep, steady voice. It’s what he believes confident heroes should
sound like. “I have a mission to complete, people to help
elsewhere, love still to spread.”

“Where we’re going, I have a large plot of
land,” Gabe says. “Many peach trees.”

“Oooh, I love peaches!” Gar grabs the handle
and jumps into the back of the car. With him, he brings his strong
odor.

Gar apologizes for his offensive smell, but
the two in the front tell him it’s all right. Gabe simply cracks
the rear windows to take the edge off while their interesting new
companion regales them with his exploits in Waterloo, from his
adventures with Randy Russell to his run-in with a machete wielding
slasher. He relates a real-life soap opera he claims to have
witnessed firsthand, complete with intrigue and betrayal, a murder
plot, and an evil twin. It was at this point in his story he
acquired what he calls ‘Sample Six’ and also dubs ‘God’s bugger.’
Gar claims it is what started the entire mess, and the third tier
of his mission is getting the vial of green material to anyone who
can use it for good.

Finally reaching the long, narrow drive
leading to his home brings Gabe so much relief he can’t help but
sigh. He wears a wide smile as the familiar cloud of dust rises
around the car. He’s driven up and down the well-worn, rutted path
countless times, but it has never felt so good to be home.

The second the car is put in park, Vida
unfastens her seat belt, ready to bound out.

“Wait,” Gabe says.

He looks at his home, finding it in the same
state as he left it weeks ago. The windows haven’t been broken, and
there are no bodies on the lawn or on his wraparound porch. This
jars his nerves.

His neighbor’s truck is still parked in the
drive. He had asked this neighbor, though his home is barely
visible from Gabe’s, to watch his house while he visited his son up
north. Someone had to take care of the chickens in his absence, but
he wasn’t expecting Big Mike to be here.

The three exit slowly. Gar readies his air
rifle as they round the late model pick-up.

Gabe keeps his eyes on the windows, armed
with his .22 pistol. It had once made him feel safe on his
long-distance business trips, but it doesn’t do much for his
confidence now. He has no reason not to trust Mike, except for the
fact that the world has been altered and now all bets are off.

The thin, white curtains part. It’s the
slightest of moves, but it’s enough stop them in their tracks. They
can’t be certain if there is someone inside taking a peek out at
them, or if the fabric was brushed out of place by a draft
inside.

Gabe silently positions Gar and Vida at the
truck to cover him as he makes for the porch. The old white swing
sways as if a phantom is sitting on it, enjoying the glorious sunny
day. Folks in these parts seldom lock their doors, but Gabe has his
key ready all the same as he stalks closer to the lock. He keeps
his small pistol aimed at the door while his left hand inserts the
key.

He is about to open the door and is startled
when he doesn’t have to. If his safety wasn’t on, he would have
accidentally shot Big Mike in the face.

“Gabe?”

A whiff of displaced air, like a large busy
bee, whizzes by Gabe’s ear when Gar draws his gun a little too
quick. Thankfully he only hits the doorjamb and not Big Mike.