The Turning: A Tale of the Living Dead (29 page)

He stepped over Parker’s dead body
and looked down as Ellen, still alive, tried to grab the gun she’d dropped. 
Jeff stomped her wrist until it snapped and snatched up her gun.  She screamed
as he pointed it down at her face and fired, her gushing blood flooding the
floor and foaming around his feet.  He turned and placed the gun to Parker’s
head to keep him from coming back but changed his mind. 

The bastard deserved to be a
zombie. 

Instead, he fired into both knees,
effectively crippling the creature about to be born. 

Scratches raked the door and Jeff
knew his time was running out.  He tucked the three guns he had now into his
pants and headed for the bathroom.  He set Jenny on the closed toilet seat and
took his shirt off to inspect the damage.  He’d been winged, the bullet grazing
off his shoulder, taking a nice chunk out of him.  He rifled through the closet
and found some gauze and antiseptic.  He cleaned the wound and dressed it as
best he could with one good hand and put his shirt back on.  The whole time, he
talked to Jenny, telling her how much he’d missed her.  She laughed and watched
him, clapping her hands together.  He nearly cried when he saw her bright smile
gleaming up at him through the drying blood on her face.  He grabbed a washcloth,
ran some warm water, and cleaned her off.

“I’ll never let that happen
again,” he promised. 

The overhead lights flickered and
went out.  Everything got eerily quiet, except for the zombies, scratching for
entrance.  He dried Jenny with a towel and put her in the baby sling and wore
her like a backpack as he gathered up the guns and silently moved through the
apartment. 

The clawing at the door grew
louder and more intense the closer he got.  They could sense his body heat in
here, along with Jenny’s, and since they were newly risen, they were a bit more
vigorous than the living dead he’d dealt with most recently. 

Parker hissed between his teeth
and sat up, his dead eyes staring at Jeff and the baby, glassy and empty. 
Parker tried to stand but couldn’t, his knees shattered, so he rolled onto his
stomach and crawled towards them.  Jeff stepped to the side and kicked his
mouth, shattering his jaw, sending teeth clattering across the floor. 

The entire time, Jenny remained
quiet, riding Jeff’s back and watching everything unfold.
He kicked Parker one more time before he looked out the peephole.  Four
zombies pressed against the doors, all of them guards, as another five shuffled
down the hall towards the apartment, one of them being Blue Bandanna. 

Jeff closed his eyes, counted to
three, and pulled the door open, stepping behind it.

The zombies lurched in, stumbling
into the foyer.  Two tripped over Parker, back up now and crawling towards Jeff
and Jenny, as the other two shambled inside and past the doors.  Jeff threw the
door shut, raised the guns in both hands, and blasted in the heads of the two
zombies still standing.  Their bodies pitched back, piling on Parker and
pinning him beneath their weight.  Jeff opened the door again and stepped through,
sparing one last look at Parker.

“Rot in hell, you bastard,” Jeff
said.  He closed the door, sealing them inside.

Down the hall, the five zombies
picked up their pace, lumbering towards Jeff, Blue Bandanna, missing the end of
his chin, in the lead.  One of his huge eyebrows was ripped and dangling in
front of his left eye, hanging on by a slim strip of bloody flesh.  He raised
an arm and moaned at Jeff.

Jeff ran towards them, guns out,
blasting away.  His first shot slammed into a guard’s chest, knocking him off
his feet.  His second missed, bouncing off a wall and biting into the floor. 
His third and fourth shots caught another guard on his shin and stomach,
simultaneously tripping and punching the zombie so it spun in the air and
landed on its face, the sharp crack of its breaking nose mixing with the zombie
groans.  His fifth shot hit its target dead on, splattering the brains of the
other zombie still standing all over Blue Bandanna's shirt.  That zombie
twitched and jittered and fell to the side, slumping against the wall.  The
sixth shot struck Blue Bandanna right between the eyes, sending the hanging
eyebrow flying through the air and his brains out of the side of his head.  The
eyebrow fluttered and slapped against the wall, sticking like a squashed bug.

Jeff dashed past them, leaping out
of the reaching clutches of the two fallen but still moving zombies and heading
straight for the elevators.

When he turned the corner, he
ended up in the middle of a battle.  Ten zombies had a guard surrounded and
cornered.  The man was holding his neck as blood poured from a bite wound,
sobbing and holding his gun out.  The guard fired once before the closest one
got to him, gouging a chunk of meat from his arm, pulling out the man’s bicep
and a piece of his shoulder muscle along with it.  The guard screamed and
thrashed as the others moved in, greedy fingers and teeth finding soft, pliant
flesh.  They disemboweled the guard, his guts pulled out in long strings of
sticky wetness, hissing when they met the open air.  Even as this happened, a
zombie had tore the guard’s left ribcage out, whole, exposing a struggling,
pumping lung.  The guard screamed one last time, put the gun into his mouth,
and pulled the trigger, showering the wall with his brains.

Jeff ran past the zombies, so
intent on their feast that they did not at first sense him.  Some of them
turned and groaned after him.

He ran to the stairwell at the far
end, avoiding the elevators because the electricity was off.   He hit the
stairs and ran down them, finding no resistance, no zombies or other guards,
and when he got to the final flight of stairs, he slowed down to catch his
breath.  He was close now, to being home free.   

“Just a little more to go, honey,”
he said to Jenny. She made an approving noise as Jeff opened the door and
stepped out to find a dozen guns trained on him.

His hands immediately went into
the air.  “I’m alive!” he said.  “I’m okay!”
Three guards peeled from the group and ran to him, grabbing him by the elbows
and hauling him behind the group.

“There’s zombies up there,” he
said.  “A couple dozen, probably.”  The guard closest to him nodded.  “They got
Parker,” Jeff said.

A rumble passed through the group
before a man with a White Bandanna tied around his left bicep stepped forward
and started barking orders.  The guards snapped to attention and they ran to
the stairs, guns up and ready. 

When they disappeared through the
doors, Jeff did the same, in the opposite direction, exiting the bank.

9

Jeff headed down 3
^rd
Ave
and then onto Flanders, heading west towards the wall when a group of people
outside the half-burned down East of Pearl condo raised a ruckus.

A few guards were drifting
through, doing a patrol, when a raggedy man in a torn white suit punched a
woman wearing a sombrero in the face.  She screeched as the hat flew from her
head and her nose cracked from the blow.  The Raggedy Man laughed and slapped
her twice as the group of people gathered around, cheering. 

The Raggedy Man circled the woman,
doing a small dance, and peppered her face with punches.  The woman reeled as
if drunk, blood pouring from her nose and mouth as her left eye swelled shut. 
The crowd cheered.  The guards joined them, hooting and hollering. 

“You cheating bitch,” the Raggedy
Man said.  He lunged forward and punched her stomach.  She wilted to the ground
in a fragile heap.

The woman looked up at him,
confused.  “I don’t even know you,” she mumbled.

The Raggedy Man laughed and kicked
her so hard her body flipped in the air.  She landed on her back and the
Raggedy Man pointed her out to the guards.

“She cheated on me!  The sentence
for adultery is the wall!” he shouted.

“The wall!” the crowd chanted,
over and over again.

The guards broke through the group
and grabbed the woman, pulling her to her feet. 

“Take her to the wall!” the
Raggedy Man said.

“The wall!” the crowd cheered.

The guards hauled her off as she
protested, screaming.  The crowd followed, applauding. 

As they disappeared around the
corner, their chant loud and clear, the Raggedy Man, who hadn’t gone along with
them, turned and smiled a crooked grin at Jeff.  His eyes fell on Jenny and the
madness in them burned hot and bright.

“That girl!” the Raggedy Man
said.  “That’s my wife!  She’s cheating on me!”
The Raggedy Man, clearly insane, charged Jeff, howling like a wild dog. 

Jeff pulled one of the guns,
waited until the Raggedy Man was almost on him, stuck the pistol into the man’s
chest, and fired.  His body muffled the blast and the Raggedy Man spun to the
left, holding the gushing wound just below his heart as he fell to the ground.

Jeff jogged away, Jenny looking
back at the Raggedy Man as if she’d caught him doing a bad thing.

He walked another block, Jenny
tight on his back, as his mind chewed over this strange, diseased place.  It
was truly hell on earth, with not a shred of humanity left. 

So what was he supposed to do? 
Part of him wanted to just leave.  He had Jenny, so what more did he need?  He
followed the crowd as it went to the wall.  He couldn’t kill them all, which
was a thought that crossed his mind, and he certainly couldn’t save them.  The
best he could do would be to get out.

But how long would he be safe? 
How long before more scavengers were sent out, like Skinny Dave and Tony?  How
long before they found him and Jenny again?
As he kept up with them, lost in these thoughts, they finally reached the
wall.  He watched as the guards hoisted the woman up, slapped around, tied her
up and ripped her pants off.  Her pubic thatch puffed out thick and black as
they lifted her over the side and dropped her into the maws of the waiting
zombies, kicking and screaming.

The crowd cheered and Jeff had his
answer.

Not long.

They would find him, whether
searching for him specifically or just randomly.  They’d come upon his house
like Skinny Dave had and they’d either kill him and take Jenny, or kill them
both.  It was only a matter of time.

Jeff turned away from the
spectacle.  He walked towards the river, debating what he should do and, as he
drew closer to the rail yards, an idea struck him.  He may not be able to beat
them all, but he could even up the odds.

10

The guard of the Portland Union
Station sat alone on the empty steps, drinking a cup of coffee.  There were a
few other guards inside, taking a break or generally screwing off.  As far as
Jeff could tell, their presence here was mostly ceremonial.  They kept watch on
the few pieces of heavy equipment still around and an eye on the waterfront for
any encroaching zombies that managed to wash ashore.

Up above, the stars filled the
night as a fingernail moon slowly arced across the sky, its lopsided grin a
giant, mocking smile.  Jeff waited until the time felt right, which was right
about when the guard was finishing his coffee.

Jenny hung on his back, quiet as
could be.  He checked on her a few times, just to make sure she hadn’t fallen
asleep.  He was going to put her in jeopardy again and that didn’t sit right,
but if it worked, then they would probably never be bothered again.  At least
it made the odds long against it.  And he’d be damned if he’d let anything come
between him and his child and their survival.

He sprinted across the open area,
moving quickly and quietly.  He snuck up behind the guard and stuck a gun into
the back of his head.  The Station Guard froze and lifted his hands.

“Is this some kind of gag?” he
said, laughing.

“No,” Jeff said.  He pushed the
gun harder into the Station Guard’s head.  “This is real.”

“Okay, buddy,” he said.  “Okay.”

Jenny let out a loud squall.  The
three guards inside looked out and saw the Station Guard and Jeff behind him,
smiling.

“Tell them whatever you normally
would,” Jeff said.  “Or I’ll shoot you.”
The Station Guard raised his right hand and waved at the guards.  Both shot
him the finger and laughed.

“What a dick,” the one on the
right said.

The one on the left shook his head
and spat on the ground.  They walked off together, carrying on like they didn’t
have a care in the world.

“Not a fan of yours?” Jeff said. 

“Fuck those guys,” he said. 
“They’re assholes.”

“What’s your name?”
“Tommy,” the man said.

“Okay, Tommy, do you know what I
want from you?”

“No,” Tommy said. 

“I need your gun,” Jeff said. 
Tommy fumbled at his holster and Jeff tensed, ready for any surprise.  Tommy
handed it over.

“Just tell me what you want, I’ll
do it,” Tommy said.  “I’m tired of these bastards.  All they do is treat me
like shit.”
“We’re going over to that forklift,” Jeff said. “Do you have the keys for it?”

“No, they’re inside.  But I can get
them,” Tommy said.

“I can’t let you go in there.”
“Fuck them,” Tommy said.  “I don’t know what you want the lifter for, but I’ll
get you the keys, just so long as you take me with you when you go.”
“What?”
“Whatever you’re gonna do, I want to be part of it,” Tommy said.

Jeff turned the guard around and
got his first good look at him.  He was barely sixteen, with a beard of pimples
and big, glassy blue eyes, one of which was swollen shut and purple.  He didn’t
look scared anymore, only excited.  It was a curious development.

“What are you talking about?” Jeff
said.

“Listen, mister.  I don’t know who
you are or why you have a baby strapped to your back, but I’m sick of this
shit.  Me and my mom came here when the whole thing started because we heard
there was protection in Portland.  But then they walled this section off and
Parker and his goons started treating us like slaves.  They put us to work over
in the Cherry Blossoms Park with a whole lot of other people.  From sunrise to
sunset, five days a week, we worked the garden there.  We didn’t have anybody
but each other and then my Mom died.  She got sick and they had the medicines
and they wouldn’t give her any because they were saving them for the guards,
for the special people.  So I joined up, hoping I could get her the medicine,
but it was too late.  She died anyway,” Tommy's face twisted into an angry knot
of hatred.  “And they treat me like shit, too, on top of it.  They smack me
around and make me sit out here in case any zombies wash on shore.”  He looked
over his shoulder at the station and shook his head.

“I just want to be through with
this,” Tommy said.

Jeff stared at him long and hard. 
He wanted to trust the kid, he really did, but every time he’d trusted anybody
along this journey, he got burned.  He couldn’t afford to, not now, not so
close to being free. 

“I’ll help you do whatever you
want, as long as I get to kill some guards,” Tommy said.

Jeff backed away from him, going
towards the forklift, holding both guns on the kid.  He waited until he was
next to the lift and nodded.

Tommy held out his hand.  “I need
my gun.  They don’t see it, they’ll know something’s up.”
Jeff knelt down and slid the gun across the concrete to him, using the
forklift as cover. 

“Be right back,” Tommy said.  He
flashed a grin and ran to the building. 

Jeff slumped against the machine
and sighed.  He looked at Jenny and shook his head.

“This is stupid,” he said. 

Gunfire jolted him.  He spun and
raised his own gun, hiding behind the forklift and training it on the station
house.  He saw two muzzle flashes, heard the shots, and listened as everything
went silent. 

Behind him, in the distance, he
could hear the waters of the Willamette River slapping the shores.  Up ahead,
past the station house, was the unending chorus of the living. 

The station door opened and Tommy
came out, grinning from ear to ear.  He held the keys for the forklift up as he
jogged over to Jeff.

“I got ‘em!” he said, proudly. He
jogged over to Jeff and handed him the keys.  “You know how to drive this?”

“It’s been a while,” Jeff said. 
“But I think I can manage it.”

The forklift was one of the big,
industrial kinds.  He wasn’t used to its bulk or size, but after a few minutes
of running the controls, Jeff felt like he was getting the hang of it.  Driving
the machine wasn’t any different than the smaller ones on his old construction
job. 

He took the baby sling off and
placed it and Jenny on the floor between his legs so she’d be shielded from any
gunplay.  Steel walls as tall as his waist surrounded him and there was a
ceiling, as well, so he should be fairly safe from gunfire, if need be. 

Tommy climbed up into the driver’s
seat next to him, a big grin on his face.

“We going to kill some guards
now?” he said.

Jeff nodded.  He put the machine
into gear and it grumbled and heaved forward.  He lifted and lowered the giant
forks out front, tilting them, using all the controls and getting their feel. 
There was only one shot at this.

They drove along at a slow but
steady pace, a slight breeze blowing Jeff’s hair back.  The tread bit and tore
the road below them, leaving long, jagged divots to mark their passing.  It
took a few minutes to cross town, even with no traffic or obstacles, and Jeff
used the time to do some planning.  If things worked out right, the sheer panic
and pandemonium should provide plenty of cover to get away.  And with Tommy
helping, there should be no problems.

He looked around, watching the
people and guards, none of them really paying them any mind other than to
glance up and go about their business.  He hated this place. It was repugnant
and evil and represented everything vile about mankind.  If God truly did judge
man and truly did send the living dead as a plague to wipe them out, then this place
was a fine example as to why it all had to happen.  Or maybe these thoughts
were some kind of moral justification, a needed explanation to keep Jeff’s
fevered conscience from eating itself alive.  If this rationalization was a
cover to hide the fact he was becoming a living, breathing sociopath, then so
be it.

Jeff gritted his teeth and bent
forward. 

This town needed to fucking burn.