Life Among The Dead (Book 3): A Bittersweet Victory (37 page)

“I was going to.” His voice is low, full of
remorse.

“Good thing we have the cure, right?” Carla
says as she searches for something to dress his wound with.

“I… never took the shot,” he whispers.

“Yeah, right!” Carla nudges her boyfriend for
his distasteful joke. When Oz doesn’t break from the melancholy
act, she nudges him harder. “Tell me you’re kidding!”

He shakes his head while he looks down at the
wound. With so many people and so little cure, the military started
administering it to the highest at risk of dying: the elderly, the
soldiers, and the sick. Next came everyone else, so it wasn’t hard
for Oz to slip through the cracks. “I meant to… for you and the
kids. I just have a thing about needles.”

“A thing! You have a thing!” Carla yells at
him, shoving Oz as hard as she can. Though he has nearly a hundred
pounds on her, she pushes him hard against the passenger side door.
Carla’s eyes tingle and burn, wanting to release torrents of tears,
but she refuses. She clings to the anger. Anything is better than
the intense sorrow trying to come to the surface. The man she loves
is as good as dead. “You fucking idiot!”

“Carla,” Dan says.

Carla grits her teeth as the burning in her
eyes travels to her nose. A building agony that’s only a prelude to
the emotional pain she’s in for.

An uncomfortable silence has taken residence
within the truck. A tension builds from the knowledge that they
aren’t all going home.

Dan has more bad news for his passengers that
he doesn’t reveal. They are running low on gas and the dead have
learned from the last time he used his maneuver. They create a wide
formation to block him from doubling back. If they were the old
variety, he’d be able to risk plowing through, but not with these
zombies.

Inevitable tears stream down Carla’s face as
she weeps for Oz. Between the sobs, she tries to think of a way to
fix this. “If we get you back… maybe the shot…”

“I don’t think it works that way,” he tells
her, hating himself for what he’s putting her through.

“What about that thing Gar is always shoving
in our faces… His bugger? God’s bugger!”

“I like Gar. He’s harmless. But even if the
eggheads would listen to him, there isn’t enough time. I can
already feel it.”

He knows he was foolish, and now he must
accept the price. Carla hugs Oz, though she is still furious over
his selfish actions. It’s the last time she’ll ever get the chance
to hold him. He strokes her hair, milking what little time they
have left for all it’s worth.

They are running out of road. Ahead, where
they should be able to connect to other routes back to the highway,
is blocked by a wreck of cars. Dan has been able to keep a slight
lead on the dead so far, but the truck is sputtering as the tank
begins to run dry. Ironically there is a can of gas in the bed.
They just don’t have enough time to use it. Dan pulls up to one of
the defunct industrial buildings with a plan. It’s a long shot and
rather absurd, but those have always been his best.

“What’s this?” Oz asks.

“Cornstarch factory,” Dan says. “Let’s
go.”

Without further probing, the couple follows
their leader into the dark plant. They lock the door behind them
and wedge it with a crowbar. Dan leads them deeper through the
shadows of the windowless place, towards the back, using his
refillable lighter that he’s kept in working order though he had
quit smoking months ago. Carla has a small flashlight that she uses
to cut away the darkness. The dead bang at the door behind
them.

Dan had worked in factories before, but not
like this one. His occupation was CNC, but most industrial places
have certain things in common that he thinks he can use to buy them
enough time to gas up and get home.

The howling dead pound on the door and along
the corrugated walls, trying to figure a way in. Oz and Carla move
to a space within the plant with a high ceiling. This area has
windows all around that allow them to see big silo-like tanks
suspended above conveyer belts. Dan assumes this is where they used
to fill bags and boxes with powdered cornstarch.

He takes in the area as if he’s looking for
something, though he’s never been here before. He spots it by tall
storage racks that extend all the way up the back wall and end at a
sky light. They can’t just climb and expect the dead to stay inside
while they gas up and take off. They’ll need to ensure the dead
can’t follow them. “Oz, can you break that water main? I wanna
flood the place.”

“Sure,” Oz says, not seeing where this is
going.

Carla stands idle, listening to the dead
scream outside. They have made it around the building and have it
surrounded. The tops of their heads show through the windows, and
she knows it’s just a matter of time before they find something to
push over so they can crawl in.

A few whacks with a fire axe opens the thick
pipe, and a torrent of water flies out. Oz returns to Carla’s side
as Dan comes back from closing the door that separates this space
from the rest of the facility. Water is already up to their ankles
as he gets to work on the next phase of his plan.

Dan runs to each hanging silo, breaking off
the spouts that hold back the factory’s product, spilling the white
powder onto the conveyors where it collects then falls onto the
flooding floor. With every vat contributing, it isn’t long before
the rising water becomes murky. He just hopes the proportions are
adequate. The mixture needs to be more watery around the walls and
windows for this to work.

“Magic Mud,” Oz says, smiling as he realizes
what Dan is up to. He joins him in kicking the concoction around to
mix it.

“I’ve heard of this before.” Carla aids them
in their mixing. “This another Uncle Bruce thing?”

“No. This one’s all me actually,” Dan says,
giving a proud smile as he remembers having the rare privilege of
explaining this simple experiment to Bruce as a boy. “You probably
made it in grade school. Magic Mud is a colloid. It moves as both a
liquid and a solid.”

“My feet are sticking.” Carla tries to lift
her legs but the mixture sets like concrete around her boot.

“Good! That means it’s working,” Dan says.
“You two better start climbing before this stuff gets too thick and
too high.”

“Not this time, boss.” Oz unslings his SAW
and hands it to Dan. “I’ll draw them in, you get my girl home. Take
care of her and my kids. Tell them every day that I love them.”

Dan had asked Oz to promise the same thing a
while back. “Of course.”

“Come with us.” Carla buries her face in his
broad chest, about to cry once more.

“Hey.” Oz lifts her chin with one finger to
meet her eyes. “What do we say?”

She recites the words she had engraved on
Oz’s SAW, “Live now, cry later.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Carla starts climbing the
racks.

Dan shakes Oz’s hand. “I’m sorry, man.”

“Don’t be. Thanks for coming out for us. You
take care of my girl, get her home. It’s been an honor,
muzzleloader.”

“You too, duct tape.” Dan swallows his
sadness while turning away to climb out of the factory.

A metallic scrape from outside lets them know
the dead have propped something beneath the windows. Glass begins
to crack.

Shrieks echo within the industrial space as
the new breed enter. They drop into the packaging area as their
prospective meal calls to them from the center, “Come and get
it!”

The thickening flood is inconsistent since
the exact recipe couldn’t be made. Some areas are watery and others
are rock solid, but the dead will help to mix it. They land in the
milky white mud and stick like flies in honey, and the mixture
holds stronger the more they fight against it. The trapped corpses
create an island that the other zombies coming in use, only to add
to the gathering mass like a volcanic formation in the sea. The
enclosed space still fills with water and powdered cornstarch, and
soon it will cover everything below the windows.

Oz backs away from them slowly so he doesn’t
agitate the concoction and can walk freely. He screams for them to
come and claim him as he does so, drowning out the wails of the
dead.

###

On the roof, Dan moves to the side so he can
look over at the corpses who continue to enter the building. Once
all the zombies have entered the trap, he returns to Carla who sits
at the skylight. It pains her to hear her lover calling for the
dead, but it’s worse when he goes silent.

“We have to go,” Dan tells her softly. “Are
you with me?”

Carla doesn’t meet his eyes as she nods and
gets to her slime coated feet. Together, they head toward the front
of the plant where Dan finds a way down. Carla collapses into the
passenger seat while he fills the tank from the gas can in the bed.
With a shake of the container, he judges they should have just
enough to get back to the park.

Carla stares out her window as they head back
toward the highway. She’s lost within herself, wondering how she’ll
ever get to sleep without her big teddy bear beside her, how she’ll
break the news to Oz’s many children as well as her brother Sid.
Sid had really taken to Oz. After all the losers he saw her with it
was refreshing for them both to have a good man like Oz around,
someone Sid could look up to.

Near the top of the on-ramp, another wave of
the new breed wails. This horde is even larger than the first and
coming over the fallen overpass. The manic zombies are like a swarm
of locusts looking for food, and their noses are filled with the
smell of blood spilled in the area. The sight of the truck cresting
the ramp gives them a target to chase.

“It couldn’t be easy, now could it?” Dan
says. He turns south, keeping the setting sun to their right as the
world dims around them. The truck gathers speed, leaving the dead
behind as fireflies slowly begin to flash in the twilight.

Between the speed he attains and the
fireflies, Dan is optimistic about getting home before too long.
The world grows dark around them on the last leg of the journey. A
sign indicates that Story Book Land is just a few miles away, and
he can almost make out the system of ramps and overpasses in the
gloom

“We’re almost--” A loud pop stops his words
as they lose one of the back tires. He slaps his palms against the
wheel. History should have taught him by now that something else
would go wrong. “Murphy’s fucking law!”

The truck drags along the asphalt, losing
speed and control, as well as any headway they had on the zombies.
The pickup fishtails as he pushes it onward.

In Dan’s rearview, the new breed enters the
horizon.
This
is
gonna
be
close
,
he thinks. The ravenous pack is gaining on them, zeroed in on their
taillights and the shower of sparks that fly in their wake. But the
lights of the magical kingdom loom ahead, though he fears it may
just be a tease.

Before entering the lot to the park, they’ll
have to negotiate serpentine turns and speed bumps meant to reduce
accidents and improve traffic flow. An awful truth pops into Dan’s
head as he considers this:
It’ll
be
faster
if
we
run
.

Carla remains silent until Dan tells her
they’ll have to walk the final stretch since the dead can cut down
the embankments they would have to loop around. They’d lose their
lead with every use of the brakes. She sighs. “What’s the
point?”

“Suit yourself.” He stops abruptly and
exits.

“Hey!” she screams, joining him “You’re
supposed to encourage me!”

“I got your ass moving, didn’t I?”

###

Within the impenetrable fortress once
proclaimed a place where smiles were born, no one is happy. The
residents of Rubicon haven’t budged from the entrance since
arriving, and an audience of Story Book Land civilians gathers as
well. The park’s military personnel stand between the factions.
Their attempts to disperse the clusters have failed, as has their
attempt to disarm all of the newcomers.

Lady Luck refuses to surrender her Gunship,
claiming it to be her father’s, along with many of the .50 caliber
machine guns onboard. “Smart man, my daddy. Always knew something
bad was going to happen to the world.”

She remains behind the wheel, smoking
countless cigarettes with soldiers from both sides of the coin,
friendly as can be. She waits for Abby to give the word. They had
communicated without speaking. A mere meeting of their eyes was all
it took to tell her,
be
ready
.

Abby sits vigilantly on top of the high
castle wall, hopeful that he’ll see the Williamson man bringing in
the two who had traveled to Rubicon to ask them to come here.

Floodlights slice through the darkness,
pinpointing figures entering the parking lot.

“We have movement,” a spotter calls down to
the major. “Two on foot, with…” A writhing mob stalks the living,
and there’s too many to estimate how many are inbound. “…a lot of
zombies following.”

Through his field glasses, Abby spots the
survivors. It’s the woman that had travelled with them. The one he
had to leave behind. The guy with her is smaller than Oz, and he
knows it must be Dan Williamson. The man with the cure in his
blood. He respects him, though he hasn’t met him yet.

“We have to open the gate!” he yells.

The major stops his men from following the
order. “We can’t risk it, son,” he says, after looking for himself.
Legions of the new breed head their way, and not even the cure is
worth letting them that close to an open door. “Clear this crowd,
now!”

Lines of armed soldiers begin to push back
the crowds.

Vida is shoved roughly into a man she
recognizes. She hasn’t seen him since Gabe’s place and notes his
smell is much improved, however a little fishy. “Gar!” She hugs the
heroic stoner.