Zombie D.O.A. (46 page)

Nate meanwhile was gaining on his pursuers. He looped right in a broad circle heading for deeper brush. But the area he was crossing now was mainly stunted scrub grass. One of the bikers stopped and lifted a rifle to his shoulder. I heard the rapport and saw Nate go down.

“Goddamn!” Hooley said, “Gimme that rifle, I’ll show them sum bitches!”

“We fire now and we’ll have them all over this hill in five minutes, so just hold your horses, Hooley. We need to box clever.”

The bikers had now reached the spot where Nate had fallen and they hauled him to his feet. A crimson stain spread out from Nate’s right shoulder and he hung between them like a limp rag doll. One of the biker’s slapped him, but he showed no reaction. The Harleys had now reached the scene, and after some discussion they rode off, while two bikers between them dragged Nate back towards town.

“You think he’s killed,” Hooley asked.

“No,” I said, “They wouldn’t have taken him back into town unless he’s still alive.”

We sat and watched the town until the sun started sinking below the horizon. After the house-to-house search had been completed, there’d been very little activity. The bikers had pretty much congregated around the Kimberly Saloon and the town hall. At one point there’d been screaming from the church and at another Virgil Pratt had wandered out into the dusty street and practiced his quick draw.

Nate had been taken to the saloon and hadn’t been seen since. I thought I caught a glimpse of Giuseppe running through the brush on the outskirts of town, but through the scope it turned out to be a coyote. I wondered what had happened to the dog, who I hadn’t seen since just after our return from Whelan. I hoped he was okay and that he had the sense to stay out of town.

“We going in or what?” Hooley said.

“I’m going in,” I said, “Can’t ask you fellers to take the risk. Nate’s probably done for anyway.”

“Fuck that for a start” Hooley said.

“Yeah I’m coming too,” said Cal.

“Cal? Your leg?”

“Now how long you gonna hold that against me? I’ve known Nate Colman since kindergarten and if there’s anyone should be going in it should be me.”

“Fair enough, glad to have you.”

“Besides,” Cal said, “Maybe I’ve been playing things up just a tad to get some attention from that pretty doctor.” I could see him grinning in the dark.

“Okay,” I said, “Anyone got any ideas on how we should approach this?”

“You the man with the plan,” Cal said.

“I say we go in blasting, see how she falls,” said Hooley.

“Damn fool idea,” Cal said, “they got us two hundred to three.”

“I’m with Cal on this one, Hooley. The odds are against us in a standup fight. What we need to do is improve those odds. Only way we’re going to do that is to split their forces.”

“You got a plan or what?” Hooley said.

“Yeah, I got a plan. We hit them from three sides. Cal you loop around to Nate’s place. He’s got that wood burning stove with a case of lighter fuel and lots of kindling. Get a fire going and spread it along as many houses as you can in that row. Just get them started, the houses are dried out old husks and they should go up like a bonfire. Then you track back through the brush to here.”

“Gotcha.”

“Hooley, you and me are going to loop round to the church. They only have two guards up there, so we take them out. Then I need you up in the steeple with that Browning of yours. Fire straight down A Street, take out their as many of them as you can, but also make sure you focus on those Harleys.“

“Now ya talkin’” Hooley said. “What you gonna be doing?”

“I’m going to carry on round to the mine depot, go through the tunnel, and come up in the Kimberly Saloon. That’s where they’re holding Nate. I find him and bring him back down the tunnel, into the shaft and we’re outa here.”

“What about timing? How are we gonna know when to kick her off?” Cal asked.

“You get to Nate’s house, you get the fire started right away.  That will distract attention from me and Hooley. And you Hooley, once you’re in the steeple, start working that Browning immediately. That gives me cover to track around to the Kimberly.”

Hooley whistled through his teeth,” You got some deep waters, Chris Collins. You ex-military or something?”

“Just your average Saturday night slugger.  One other thing, the minute you’re done what you need to do, you haul ass through the mine to Yonder’s position. Cal you do the same once you hear Hooley stop firing. Wait there till sun up, then head for the bus. There’s sixty gallons of diesel fuel in the tank. That’ll get you back to Whelan.”

“Where is this bus?” Cal asked.

“Hooley knows, we stopped on the way down from Whelan to fill her up.”

“We ain’t leavin’ you behind,” Hooley said.

“Do it,” I said, “We got forty people to think of, including your wife and son. Besides, I’m not planning of staying behind in Pagan. If I don’t get to the bus on time, I’ll see you all back in Whelan. You can count on it. Anything else?”

There were no more questions, so we set off down the east slope and made a wide circle through the brush, with Hooley cradling his beloved Browning and Cal and I carrying an ammo case each. We reached the outward facing houses and headed towards Nate’s. I was hoping Giuseppe might be there, but there was no sign of him.

We said our goodbyes to Cal and he disappeared into the darkness. Hooley and I now jogged uphill, skirting around to come up behind the church. I was carrying both ammo cases, and by the time we reached the top of the incline my arms felt like they were on fire.

The church stood before us and beyond it the town, in darkness except for the lights from the saloon. I could hear the faint tinkle of a piano, a ragtime tune that seemed strangely appropriate to the setting.

At left I saw a lick of flame and a faint column of smoke, just starting to waft its way into the night sky.

We made our way to the church and crept along the side of the building. I could see one of the guards standing out front facing the town, his back to us. Hooley produced a knife and started to creep forward, but I stopped him. We needed to know where the other guard was first.

The fire had now started to spread, its flames clearly visible to our left. Something collapsed with a bang and a cascade of sparks was thrown into the air. The guard grunted and his companion came running over to see what going on. I could now hear the crackle of ancient timbers being devoured by the flames. Down at the saloon people were pouring into the street and I could hear Tucci’s voice shouting orders.

There was another explosion, and this time I used the cover to put down both of the guards with single shots from the AK.

The church doors were chained and padlocked but Hooley smashed a window and crept through. I heard screams from within and then Hooley saying, “Evening folks, Jed Hoolihan’s the name and I’m here to save your sorry asses”.

I passed the Browning and the ammo cases through to Hooley and then set off at a sprint towards the northern edge of the town. The fire had taken hold now and the night sky was alive with flame and sparks and crackles.

As I reached the mine depot I heard Hooley start off on the Browning, a percussive addition to the evening’s entertainment, punctuated by the muffled explosions of the Harley’s fuel tanks rupturing.

I dropped into the tunnel and worked my way through the darkness towards Silver Jim’s boudoir. I climbed the staircase towards the trapdoor and pushed upward. Nothing, the trapdoor wouldn’t budge. I took in a deep breath and tried again, using both hands this time and straining every sinew. The trap raised a couple of inches then slipped back into place. Quite obviously something had been placed on top of it. Something heavy. Still the fact that I’d managed to raise it at all gave me hope, so I climbed up two more steps and used my back and shoulders.

I pushed and felt the trap began to shift and I pushed harder and moved up another step. Whatever was on the trapdoor began to shift and I heard a jingle, and then a crash as the trap suddenly flew upward.

I said a quick prayer that no one had heard the ruckus, but I needn’t have worried. Outside there was chaos with shouts and muffled explosions and Hooley’s Browning continuing its deadly clatter.

I stepped through the trapdoor and into the office, its interior thrown into bright light by the flaming buildings across the street.

I moved quickly towards the door and tried the handle. It was locked and I was just about to step back and fire a burst at it when I noticed the boxes in the room. This was what had prevented the trapdoor from opening, but what attracted my attention was the label embossed on the plain brown cardboard, a dragon rising above the word PENCORP. There was another embossing too, this one less elaborate. It said simply BH – 17.

I picked up one of the boxes, rattled it, and heard a faint jingle from within. I stripped back the security tape, removed one of the vials and held it up. The firelight gave it a slightly greenish tinge, but I knew exactly was it was – Blueberry Hill.

There were some thirty boxes of the stuff, Virgil Pratt’s secret stash, and his way of controlling his zombie army and maintaining some modicum of humanity himself. Without their daily dose of this stuff, the Dead Men would soon revert, turn on each other and on Pratt and Tucci. 

I opened the trapdoor and started pushing boxes through, hearing them clatter down the stairs. I removed a single plastic vial from the last box and pocketed it.  I’d seen the effect this stuff had on humans, and if there was no other choice, if I ended up backed into a corner, it would allow me to make a last stand and inflict maximum damage on them.

When the last box was gone I closed the trapdoor and covered it with the mat. Then I turned towards the door, fired off a burst at the lock, applied my boot to it and stepped into the bar room.

The saloon was lit by flame, drenched in shadow and half-filled with smoke. It was also empty, except for the piano player who bizarrely was still belting out a Scott Joplin rag. The man spotted me, stopped playing and gently put down the lid of the upright piano. Then he flew up and charged across the room, lips drawn back to reveal broken, jagged teeth. I lifted the AK and waited till he was nearly upon me before putting two bullets in his brain.

It was then that I noticed a man slumped on the floor, his hands tied to a pillar. I hurried in that direction expecting it to be Nate, but it wasn’t, it was Pastor Ray.

The preacher had taken a severe beating and even in the half-light of the saloon I could see that he was done for. He’d been stripped naked and his torso was blackened with congealed blood.  He’d suffered deep bite wounds to his throat and chest. But worse still were the facial injures. His nose looked to have been chewed off and there was a bloody stump where one of his ears should have been. Ray tried to speak but no sound came and I could see why. In the darkened maw his tongue seemed to be missing.

He looked at me, then and cast his eyes upwards in what I assumed was a religious gesture. I nodded solemnly, but Ray persisted, this time widening his eyes to make his point. I thought he might be indicating the upper floor of the saloon and I pointed in that direction and Ray nodded.

I was about to head towards the staircase when Ray managed a faint grunt, like someone clearing their throat. He looked towards the AK, widened his eyes then looked at me and I understood right away what he wanted. This man had so often been my nemesis, but he’d followed a principle he believed in and I respected him for that. As though he was reading my thoughts, Ray nodded and then closed his eyes. I lifted my rifle and ended his suffering.