The Queen of the Dead (18 page)

Turning off the radio felt like she cut across her wrists with a knife to bleed out. His words were the narcotic she craved, an addiction she couldn’t overcome.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Macon asked. “He sounds like a dick.”

Rose laughed. “No. He’s not my boyfriend anymore. And yeah, he’s a dick.”

GRIGGS

Sergeant John Charles grilled hamburgers on a George Foreman grille they stole from a nearby house, while Griggs snacked on a bag of Doritos and scanned through his lawyer’s cell phone. The guy must’ve been dead. Would they have won their case? The state of Michigan owed him an apology, because thousands watched Mina videos without a single cent going into his pocket. But that was the past.                                                                                                                             Vega and the thug were out looking for some fresh clothes and a few other supplies. Because of Vincent’s rampage against the neighborhood’s population of corpses, it was easy to lay low if they didn’t make any noise. Griggs flipped through text messages from someone named Bella.

He watched several videos and newscasts on Youtube while browsing the web on the smartphone. He read news articles and blog posts. He read eyewitness accounts on Twitter. He read the prayers of a million people who confronted death and discovered God.

“How bad is it?” Sergeant Charles asked.

“Bad,” Griggs replied.

“My CO thought it was going global. He seemed to know more than we did.”

“You know what it is now?”

John thought about it. “No. They never paid me to think. And when the money didn’t matter, nothing else did either. There was nothing for me to spend it on. But the rules changed.”

“So you’re not married anymore.”

“How’d you guess?” John looked at his wedding band and adjusted it on his finger.

“You got the ring but money doesn’t matter. I figure it didn’t matter to your wife, like it didn’t to mine. But I stopped giving a shit, anyway.”

The sergeant folded his arms across his chest. “I used to look at this ring and think about why I do it. I was going to put my daughter through college. All part of a plan, you know. So I still do this because it’s a habit.”

“It happens when you see a lot of blood,” Griggs said, thinking about his own realization, the sudden instinct that gave him cause to blow Nikki away when he needed to. “I don’t have problems with money. Pays for pussy and booze.”

The sergeant shrugged. “Money was always the reason why I had a gun, but it wasn’t ever
my
money I was fighting for.”

“I thought you weren’t a thinker.”

John’s lips twisted into an awkward smile that looked more like a grimace. “You get used to shooting at people who’re thinking of ways to kill you. People who’re reacting—but those things out there don’t react. They’re not soldiers, and they’re not civilians. It’s like the walls are closing in. They’re everywhere and they keep closing in… you ready to go back out there?”

Griggs hadn’t thought about going back. His attention was focused on the video feeds, Bob’s final words, and Vega’s tight body. He wanted to wrap her long legs around his head and bury her in bed sheets. All he had to do was find a way to upload the video from his flash drive onto the web, and he could wipe out at least a quarter of the world’s population. The world could use a good dose of Mina—the human race wanted blood; everything he experienced during his career was all the evidence he needed.

He would give it to them.

“The sooner we get used to it, the better,” Griggs said. “There’s no cure for death, and it’s walking around outside. Things haven’t changed all that much.”

“I guess I’ll leave all the thinking up to you,” John said.

Griggs remembered John’s personal rant inside the tank, and it took on a new meaning.

“You’re not actually thinking about crashing that party, are you?” Griggs asked, remembering Jeremy and Stacy from the porn shop.

John didn’t look at him. “The Festival of Flesh? Haven’t been thinking about it. What came over you in the store?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t been thinking about it much.”

The dead woman looked too much like Mina. It was almost as if the zombie wanted to be acknowledged; it was asking him for help with its eyes.

If his plan to kill everybody didn’t work out, he could always find a way to turn the existing zombies into his slaves, especially if there was any hint of a subconscious. There was an opportunity somewhere; he just had to find it and be in the right place at the right time.

Griggs went back to watching cities collapse into piles of dust while the epidemic spread through Ontario and Ohio.

When Vega and Vincent returned, they unloaded a shopping cart in front of the door; bottled water, boxes of granola bars, rain ponchos, energy drinks, and some first-aid supplies.

“Took you long enough,” Griggs commented and looked at Vincent, “hope you used protection, buddy.”

Vincent ignored him.

“Smells good,” Vega said.

“How’s your head feeling?” John Charles asked her.

“It doesn’t make a difference,” she replied and changed the subject. “Mostly goons out there with guns.”

“We seen them things out there grouping up,” Vincent added. “Not too many loners.”

Thunder shook the house.

“A good idea,” John looked at the ponchos.

“An extra layer we could use,” Vega said. “I just wonder how this thing works. Is it a disease? I haven’t seen anyone become one of those things, but everyone seems to think you’ll become one if you’re bitten. That’s what Crater thought.” She looked at the sergeant. “Anyway, we can’t take chances. If they scratch us or get saliva on us, we need to be covered.”

“You get those ponchos because you don’t want to get wet?” Griggs asked Vega.      “You’ll get wet. I’ll make sure of that.”

Vega rolled her eyes. “We stick to the plan. Roll out at night.”

“We’re making a lot of assumptions,” John said. “We
assume
those things can’t see any better in the dark than we can.”

Vega shrugged. “You can back out. You agreed to this. Hell, I got nothing else to do. Sitting around here with Captain Porno isn’t my idea of a good time.”

“Nobody’s coming for us,” Sergeant Charles said, “if there’s a plane on that runway…”

“We can find a plane anywhere,” Vega said. “The damn airport has planes. Cut the shit, John. We’re going out there because we can. Because we’re soldiers. Killers. We’re just as bad as everyone else who’s roaming around out there with a gun and a hard-on.”

“Speak for yourself,” the sergeant said, “I’m going because good servicemen have risked their lives for that base—”

“They’re so good they might be dead,” Griggs cut him off. “Look, I’m all for hanging out with you lovely folks, but we won’t even be able to see
this
guy in the dark unless he smiles.” He pointed to Vincent.

Vincent flashed his metal-coated teeth. “Had my mouth kicked into the curb. Stomped like a busted nigga. You know where that shit happened? Iraq. Fucking Baghdad, 2003.” He rubbed his jaw and looked for the memory with his eyes, and it was obvious he’d held it back for a long time. Just like John Charles blowing his cool in the tank.

Vincent was cracking.

“Yeah. Shit’s funny now. It used to be a school. I remember looking around and thinking about how it was all bombed-out, wondering what people were seeing back home. My Mama said to do it for the right reasons, but I was running from the ghetto. Ain’t nothing for niggas to do except join the service or get arrested. I was with my squad in that school because we were looking for some kind of bullshit… Iraqis hiding out under cover, ‘cause they didn’t think we’d roll into a school. Found all these kids huddled up in a room. Not a one of us could speak the language. Not one. You know everyone’s scared, right? Don’t nobody wanna get killed. These kids had been hiding since the bombs were dropping. Maybe their parents were dead. They were starving and shaking. But you know there were supposed to be Iraqi soldiers there. Maybe they were teachers and they had guns.”

Their eyes were on him. His jaw tightened and his hands balled into fists for a moment, and then he released them and took a deep breath.

“I don’t have to finish this story. They all had their excuses, but I wasn’t down for it. I would’ve stepped in front of their guns, but they already had me. All I could think about was letting my Mama down. Doing the right thing. Put my teeth right into the curb and let me live. They let me live with that shit. They could’ve pinned it on me, court-martialed me, whatever, but they decided it didn’t happen. Never. I was disobeying orders from a superior officer. Dishonorable discharge. Here I am. Niggas talk about kids getting killed by my guns, but it ain’t my guns. Ain’t even close.”

When the rain started pelting the roof, Vega said, “Vincent and I are going out, rain or not.”

***

With a shopping cart full of guns and ammo, and with a tarp covered over it, they made their way under the cover of darkness and rain. It felt unreal to be back in the apocalypse again after watching videos of a normal world eating itself alive in the videos; sitting at a table and eating burgers while arguing with a semi-conscious soldier, a thug, and a patriot, felt like being back at the precinct where everybody was a legend in their own mind.

Vega still seemed a bit sleepy, but he talked to her about her future career choices. It turned out she wanted nothing to do with pornography.

They returned to Eloise Fields to pick up one of the stranded Humvees to cut down on some of the walking time. Griggs saw his truck still embedded in the front of the hospital, and felt a twinge of longing; he loved that damn truck, and he remembered the moment, hardly a day ago now, where he realized he was well-suited to this situation. He had blown Nikki’s brains out and dropped her into the street.

They crammed the weapons into one of the Hummers, and the always-helpful sergeant took the wheel. Vega started playing with the radio to try the base again.

“Enough guns to level a city,” Griggs looked at the pile between the seats.

“I gotta sit in the back with you,” Vincent shook his head and stared through the window.

“Loud and clear. Someone is still alive, over,” a familiar, calm voice erupted out of the radio after John inquired over the radio.

The sergeant frowned. “What’s your status, over?”

A slow, measured laugh replied. “Some are alive, and some are dead. Over.”

“I think I know who that is,” Griggs said.

“So do I,” Vincent added and looked at the former detective.

“Traverse?” Vega asked.

“We need a more detailed status report, over,” John said into the radio.

“You’re in quite the position to be asking for details. Don’t worry, there’re enough left to keep me occupied for a while, over.”

“State your name and rank, over.”

“Captain James Traverse, retired, and who might I be speaking to? I assume you’re currently inbound to my position. Over.”

Vega ripped the mike out of his hand. “What the hell’re you doing at Selfridge?”

There was a long pause as John drove around barricades of abandoned cars.

“Waiting for my ride, over.”

Vega wasn’t finished with him. “Are you responsible for what’s going on? If you want to get out so badly, why don’t you commandeer an aircraft? Over.”

“So many questions. My friends in Washington have sent someone else for me, and they’re willing to negotiate. Their first attempt to bring me out was a failure. You seem to know a little bit about me, so you know I have something fun in store for a few survivors here at the base. Over.”

“You keep your shit in check, Traverse, because the mission’s not over yet. I’m coming for your ass, so if you want a little fun, just sit tight so I can put a bullet between your eyes. Over.”

“But that’s not the mission. I’m supposed to come back alive, but I promise I’ll wait for you. You sound… exciting. Over and out.”

“You mutherfucker!” Vega slammed the mike against the dashboard.

“You still want him as bad as I do?” John asked.

Vega didn’t answer.

Griggs didn’t think they had a chance against Traverse. He’d seen what the man did to a trained soldier, taking him down in a matter of seconds and giving him the opportunity to experience his last seconds alive in agony. But he wasn’t about to ruin the fantasy for Vega. Better to sit in the tense silence and watch the dead city roll by the window. Watch the smoke and the flame, the city that used to be his beat. Dead bodies drawn in chalk; now they were walking around, and there was nobody left to draw.

John Charles navigated through crowds of the dead until he began going around in circles to get through a maze of blocked streets. A few random bullets pinged off the vehicle’s hull, and Griggs remembered what Vega had said about the hood rats fighting over turf.

“You miss your people?” Griggs asked Vincent. “Sounds like they’re still outside.”