Rust, Gore, and The Junkyard Zombie Page 3

  Still gripping my brother, I turned heartbroken eyes toward the building again. Lizzie would be on the fourth floor in her nuclear medicine lab. If we were lucky, the elevator might still be operational. We could deal with the details once we were all safe.

  I looked up at Chris and knew that I had to let him lead.

  He would not be able to handle taking second in this situation. To be honest, I would feel better with him in the lead on any mission.

  My brother had been a sniper in the marine Special Forces. He was going to be more clearheaded in this situation than I, as I was suddenly a mental mess I knew that with him beside me I was going to survive. I only hoped that Lizzie was still okay. She would need us if she was.

  Lizzie really did not handle the emotional junk well.

  She was our resident egghead, cool and emotionally bottled up. Me, I was the family drunk, easygoing and with a slow fuse. Chris, he was the rock, and he would keep us all together and going strong. He was the one who all the family leaned on. We all knew our roles and fit them well. Changing those roles was not something any of us were prepared to do yet. If we ever would be.

  We made our way through the building carefully. The building had avoided a lockdown, so the elevator worked, thankfully. We only saw a couple of the creatures, and both went down with a single shot a piece. I found it easier to consider them creatures. If I thought of who they used to be, I was not sure I could have pulled the trigger.

  That was what got you killed when the dead walked— the hesitation and the ignorance of not knowing about them or failing to be alert. The need to end those creatures who were once people close to us was never an easy thing. Nor I supposed should it be. If it were, we would lose our humanity in the process.

  Lizzie was, as usual, clueless. Her lab was locked and soundproofed. She was in the middle of some freaking experiment, as usual.

  “Pack it in, Lizzie bear, we are needing to go now! The rest of the family are waiting at the junkyard,” Chris said. His tone brooked no argument. His neck was so stiff it hurt to look at him. His look made it clear that we were not revealing everything to her. Not that I wanted to be the one breaking that news anyway.

  Lizzie looked up and sighed. “Give me ten minutes to set these experiments up for my absence. Then I will get my stuff.”

  Chris looked for a moment like he considered insisting that she grab her stuff right away. I half-expected that he would. He was not as intelligent as Lizzie, but then again, not many were. I often thought that Chris felt intimidated by the smarts that Lizzie had. She used it to get her way when they argued, which was more often than not; those two would butt heads almost all the time.

  The moment passed with only a scowl as his response, so Lizzie went about doing as she had planned. I had never spent a more uncomfortable ten minutes in my life. I tried to never get in the middle of them. It never ended well when I did.

  Lizzie had always been so much more girly than me. She had a purse and all sorts of girly goodies there at the lab. Gathering her stuff took another ten minutes, much to Chris’s obvious frustration.

  Gathering her stuff took another ten minutes, much to Chris’s obvious frustration.

  Chris was old-fashioned, and in his world, men took control. He was not a misogynist; he had a lot of respect for the women in his life. He just was easily frustrated by what he perceived as a loss of control of the situation—especially when the situation was as out of control as the one we were in.

  He gave her a small hand pistol. She looked so stunned I thought her jaw would fall off. “Don’t hesitate! If someone between us and the truck comes near you, shoot for the head!”

  We had taught her and the kids how to use a gun, but Lizzie was the worst of them. Even young Shara had a steadier hand with a pistol than she. Lizzie was too likely to hesitate and then complain. She took her Hippocratic Oath of “do no harm” seriously. She was the worst kind of pacifist. A freaking annoyingly whiny one.

  I took the rear, and Chris took lead. We hoped she would not need the weapon she was scowling at. Thankfully, she did not. We had been fairly thorough about clearing on the way up. She paid close attention to the creatures we had killed on our way up and seemed uncomfortable, to say the least.

  Lizzie chose to ride in my Mustang with me. Chris followed us in his truck. I thought he was afraid we would get lost on the way home. Then again, he might have just seen it as an easier way to do things. I was quieter than usual as I didn’t want to chance spilling anything extra to my beautiful and intelligent kid sister.

  The tension was eating at my stomach the whole way home. Studying her out of the corner of my eye, I realized she looked different. I wondered what she had been doing to get the shine in her hair. I swear her skin was glowing. The trip home seemed so much faster than I expected, perhaps because of how distracted I was. I didn’t know if I was extra glad for the speed or just relieved it was over.

  Once we were in the gates and they were locked solid, Chris sent me ahead to see to Amara and the kids. I had parked close to the gates so the trip to the main house was shorter than it usually would be. Knowing what he needed to speak with Lizzie about, I really didn’t argue. I nearly tripped when I heard her cry out as I walked away. I wiped away my tears and felt my sister’s heartbreak more acutely as I continued onward.

  Lizzie

  Journal dated four days after Jimbo’s death

  There must be a way to discover the cause of this outbreak. I realized Chris was trying to protect us. Still, I was a scientist. I had already lost my beloved husband, and for the last couple of days, I had deeply grieved.

  Time for my grieving had to end. Now I had to figure out what it was that caused the dead to reanimate. If only so that I did not bring my child into such a dangerous world.

  Chris and Tara had gone out twice to gather supplies.

  They had brought back about three dozen survivors from town. Chris put Amara in charge of the supplies and rations. She was amply able to handle this enormous duty. I believed that it was what she was born for.

  I planned to have a list ready for the next trip. I just had to convince Chris. When this started, I made the mistake of telling him about my pregnancy. I felt like it was important then, but now I wondered. Was it actually important or just my way to hurt the man who was breaking my heart?

  He had been way extra protective of me since. Though to be honest with myself, it might just as much be because of the loss of Jimbo. Finding out about his death brought my world into shambles.

  For now, I was only able to stay in my own home by convincing Tara to stay with me, which she was willing to do rather easily. I had to be in the main house when they were gone. Even though this made practical sense, I found I resented being controlled like this.

  Chris made it very clear that we were, none of us, to be alone. “Shit has hit the fan, and until I am sure it is safe, everyone will use the buddy system. Even here in the junkyard. First thing, we will gather what supplies and equipment from outside that we can to make survival easier. Then we will make our plans.”

  Sometimes I hated when he was right. Tara did too, as until it was all under control, she had been ordered into a dry spell. No booze. So she had been extra grouchy. I was in truth surprised at how easy it was to convince Tara. She was not looking forward to living in the old house any more than I.

  Neither of us ever found the house as comfortable as our dear brother did.

  My house was closer to the garage than Chris’s home. It was also a lot smaller, and Chris lived in the house we were born in. Tara had a three-bedroom trailer parked out by the pond, and when Jimbo and I married, Chris bought us a gorgeous modular home.

  Honestly, it was the best wedding gift we received. A two-story ranch-style home with a basement. Jimbo and Chris dug the basement and did the foundation themselves. Both of the men in my life had always been handy, and it showed in my house and the business that they built together.

  Jimbo and I had c
onverted a bedroom upstairs into a home lab for the days when I was feeling bad. We had started putting in a nursery and planning the perfect moment to reveal my condition. We had only known for three weeks.

  He was so excited that we were expecting. I was only ten weeks along, but it meant that I had very limited time to solve this outbreak.

  Amara was trained in first aid and midwifery. Amara had trained in first aid, just in case, for the children she cared for. She took midwifery because it was something she found interesting. Having seven children, it wasn’t a surprise that she was interested in childbirth classes.

  At least I had someone to assist with the birth. Still if any issues arose, I would like to have a hospital accessible. My child needed to be brought into a safe world. I had to do whatever had to be done to see that happen. I was on the cusp of being too old for childbearing. The research I had done about it listed childbearing after forty as being dangerous to both mother and child.

  My personal lab and my lab in town were normally connected by the internet. That was problematic when the lines were down. I wished we had invested in the satellite connection I had wanted, but it always seemed like too much money. Thankfully, my computer had most of the information I would need stored locally.

  Still, there were equipment and chemicals that I would need. I had my doubts as to whether I would be returning to the lab in town. I did not know if I wanted to continue the experiments I was working on before the world went to hell. To be honest with myself, it seemed like the world was going to be a different place.

  Tara and Chris would be going gathering again tomorrow. I would have to convince Chris tonight. I talked to Amara discreetly while they were gathering today. She agreed with my reasoning. Now I merely needed to convince him. Easier said, I believed, than done.

  I privately examined Jimbo’s body, but I couldn’t bring myself to take samples for the lab. We buried him yesterday. I couldn’t separate the corpse from the man I married. It was an emotional failing on my part, but it was how it was.

  We put his body in the family mausoleum to prevent corruption of the ground here. We still had to figure out if it was a contagious disease or something else. The family mausoleum was about ten miles closer to Charlestown in the Jarvin town cemetery. Our mausoleum hadn’t been used in probably sixty years. Mother had refused to use it and was buried in the cemetery proper. The mausoleum came through Dad’s side of the family. Mother had died with just as much pride as she had lived with.

  Amara had started working on a chore list. The survivors that Chris and Tara brought in were being assigned tasks that would help with the supplies. In truth, it was probably more busy work than anything else at this point. Inherently, people needed to stay busy. It helped to settle the mind and fight panic. Amara understood that the best. She had also assigned rooms, including putting her three eldest kids into Tara’s trailer to increase the space available in the house.

  She asked Chris to raid the camper dealership in town so that the survivors would be more comfortable with more rooms and beds available, and it afforded everyone a sense of privacy. She said that the yard was large enough to create a small trailer park and still leave enough space for the kids to play. Chris was planning a scout today when they were out. He said he would need all the drivers to do that raid, which would include even those too young to be licensed, as moving cars around the junkyard had been a lesson taught to all his children—including the ones Amara watched.

  He had been searching for all the remaining survivors and supplies in town. Tara and he looked awfully injured after the trip to the local diner. I believed that the dead had overrun it. At the time, I was in no shape to ask. That day they returned with plenty of supplies but not a single survivor.

  The local hospital was about ten miles farther south than town, so if the dead followed the pattern of the movies that my brother loved, the three main gathering places would be the drugstore, the Baptist church, which ran a food pantry for the less fortunate, and Delia’s Diner. Those would also be the places where the supplies, at least food-wise, would be the most.

  As a rural area, more than a few members of the community had to use the food pantry to survive moments when the money just didn’t stretch far enough. We were lucky enough to have been left the junkyard and a small nest egg. Chris refused to touch the money. He paid for my college and the taxes on the junkyard from the money he was paid in the marines. He claimed that the nest egg came from Mama working herself to death and that made it blood money. The junkyard came from Daddy’s side. Our grandmother left it to Chris when she passed.

  He had done mechanical work to pay the bills for the last few years now, but I had paid the taxes since I finished college. I had to argue with Chris over that. He refused to allow me to pay back the college costs, and I really had no other bills.

  The junkyard was off the grid. We had well water, solar power, and a really good septic system. The only thing we had from the outside was trash and phone. Chris had set the solar power battery up with enough storage to run all of Jarvin if needed. He tended to overdo the survival thing.

  His eldest son worked nights as a police officer, much like Tara. He was a cook at the diner during the day. He had inherited his father's work ethic.

  The rest of Chris’s grown children either worked in the junkyard, in the garage, or helped with the daycare. Paying the taxes made me feel like I was pulling my own weight.

  Poor Jimbo was all too often stuck between Chris and me. Both sides too dangerous for him to take. I believe that was why he acted so laid-back, so as not to come between us. Sometimes I felt like we were unkind to Jimbo, for he was always dealing with the stubborn tempers in this family. My temper was milder than that of my siblings, but it was more of a stubborn thing. It seemed to me like he always knew when Chris or I were arguing and managed to suddenly be busy at the garage and avoided us both.

  Jimbo was co-owner of the garage and head mechanic when Chris was absent. Jimbo and Chris had built the garage themselves. The junkyard had been around since our grandfather’s day, and Chris decided that the garage was a natural extension of our property.

  Since he didn’t want to touch our inheritance, he asked Jimbo to help him with the money needed to build. In return, Jimbo would own half of the business. Since Jimbo had already asked me to marry him, and considering how close he and my brother were, it honestly made sense.

  I couldn’t truly be angry with Chris, for I knew that he grieved as strongly as I did. Jimbo was as much a sibling to him as I was. I was overthinking this, as I did everything. If I gave the list to Chris and explained it, he would get what he could. I would have to make it work.

  Jimbo

  My dearest child,

  I love you. We just found out that you are coming, and I feel like my heart is exploding with excitement for you. You are not even going to be here for eight months yet. I think that I will try to write you a letter every month and hand them to you on your eighteenth birthday. Sheez, that is gonna be a big chest for that. May have to build it myself. Though really, I will likely only do that until you are born. Then it will likely go to once a year. I imagine that I will be too busy with you to do so more often.

  About your mom and I, we are both going in to this wanting only the best for you. She and I love you, and each other, quite deeply. We have loved each other since we were children ourselves. You are not only an extension of that love but a beautiful bright light all on your own. One that I hope will only be nurtured by us given time.

  Likely, your mama will be doing the whole college thing for you, and if it is what you want, then I will cheer you on. If it, however, is not what you want, then I will be cheering you on either way. I will always be there, an ear and a shoulder in your need.

  I'm not the smartest fellow on the planet, but I will always be your most ardent supporter. You have a mama with enough smarts and beauty to light up any room.

  We are not the wealthiest people, but you will never
need for anything. You will always have enough family to make up for any lack there might be otherwise.

  Well, my little love, I have rambled enough for one letter. I will be writing more soon.

  All of my love,

  Your Daddy

  Ps...By the next letter I hope your Mama and I have agreed on a Name for you. She’s trying to convince me that if you are a boy, we should call you Junior. It sounds great, but I am scared that you will want a name all your own. If we do call you after me, I understand if you decide to go by James or Jim.

  Tara

  Going house by house looking for survivors was the right thing to do. Still, I wished I could use booze to clear my mind of the houses where no one survived. Even thinking of them as creatures didn’t help after a few hundred of your former neighbors and friends had tried to eat you and you had to kill them. Chris was right though; until we were sure it was safe, being impaired was asking for it. I knew better.

  We had accounted for about half of the town. Which meant there still might be people who needed us and the safety of the junkyard. There was a phrase that I never thought I would utter. The junkyard as a safe haven for the town—it just astounded me.

  I admitted to amazement at how smoothly Amara and Chris had been handling this. The food gathering was common sense, but it was also the rationing and the situating of the survivors.

  There had been little to no argument, which I had expected a lot more of. Perhaps because of how suddenly the world went to hell, or maybe it was the reputation my brother and his wife had for getting things done. I believed that part of the way everyone had behaved was because no one wanted to argue with Chris.

  My brother could be a scary fellow on occasion. First, because of his physical size. He had always been built like a brick shithouse. Second, his temper had a long fuse, but when it did finally erupt, it was frightening. He and Lizzie had turned the family reputation into something to be proud of. It was more than I could claim. I was the embarrassment between us.