Rust, Gore, and The Junkyard Zombie Read online

  We cleared the diner. The place was overrun, and on our initial run, we saw nearly three hundred former members of the community. The manager was still alive but had been badly bitten. Chris helped him end his misery. Twelve bites meant that he was in terrible pain, but even one meant you became one of them when you died. It also meant you would die sooner.

  We weren't sure if that was the only way, not at this point. So far, we had not been checking for the bites, just assuming the creatures were all bitten. Honestly, that didn’t come until later.

  That was part of the reason Chris insisted on the buddy system. If someone died, it would give us an early warning system. The other part was that there was someone to hear if we called for help.

  It took four truckloads to clear just the nonperishables for the junkyard. Next stop was the drugstore. We were also planning to scout the RV dealership on the edge of town. It was not far from where the telephone and television lines came in. Chris wanted to see what caused the outage to see if we could try to fix it. He figured that it would be a good idea to see if this was localized.

  Personally, I didn’t see how it could be. Lizzie gave Chris a list of what was needed to try to figure out what was causing the dead to rise. With her brain, I doubted that it would take long for her to discover the cause.

  We each drove a separate vehicle out, but we agreed that we stick together when we got there. No sense in taking chances. The only reason for the second vehicle was the survivors. We had to be able to bring them in.

  We had not yet accounted for all the people, so some more could yet be alive. If they were, then we could offer them a safe place that was zombie free. A place where there was food and shelter. A place to rebuild some semblance of a life after the world went to hell. Amara was already planning a large vegetable garden to assist with food. She had a few fruit trees out by the pond and a small amount of animals to assist with food as well. The chickens and the goats were normally only a fun way to teach the children about homesteading, but now they were a necessary thing to provide for those who were living in the junkyard.

  Chris seemed extra distracted that morning as we left the junkyard. I wondered what was on his mind.

  He was not good at telling us how he felt. Pushing him would make him grumpier. He insisted that we start at the edge of town where the lines came in. I think that he, like our Lizzie, was trying to solve the why of the dead walking. I only hoped they could figure it out quickly. The idea of the current situation being what society would be just rattled me.

  The pole was knocked over, just as expected. A shiny black sedan with D.C. plates still precariously leaned over the jagged and broken part of the pole. There was a partial body, mostly eaten and decaying, in the passenger seat. The driver door was hanging open, and a dwindling trail of blood was marking the road into town. If we had seen rain since the accident, the evidence would have been so much less clear.

  “Well, we can see where the shit hit the fan!” I said to Chris in a bit of a sarcastic humor.

  “Now is not the time for joking!” he grumbled halfheartedly, but I could see the smile in his dancing eyes that he was trying not to show.

  Chris took a few samples of the blood and the corpse in the vehicle using the crime scene kit I kept in my car. I had been studying for the detective’s exam, so to try to psych myself up, I had started to carry a crime scene kit in my trunk. Amazing what one could order off the internet. Of course, Jacob and Shara had been teasing me that it was my serial killer kit, but I knew Lizzie would be grateful the samples couldn’t get contaminated before she examined them.

  Chris then looked helplessly at the pole. “There's no fucking way I can fix that!” he swore with honest regret.

  He had been trying to contact people using the ham radio. Usually, on a clear day, he could talk to people as far out as Barbados. Yet, since the dead had been walking, he had been unable to reach anyone, and it was bugging him.

  I thought that it was more that people had better things to do than sit by a stupid radio waiting for someone else in the night to respond. I was at least smart enough not to say so.

  He murmured something about perhaps us ranging out as far as Charlestown, which was where the hospital was. He shook his head and turned to face me. “Tara, let’s get the scout done of the RV place. I want to get the samples and equipment to Lizzie. We may have to do a run out to Charlestown tomorrow. I wanna see if we can get some answers.”

  I sighed. “What answers do you expect? The dead are up and walking. Do you really think it’s just here in Jarvin?”

  He gave me that look, the one which meant there was no argument. The argument was a moot point until the morning anyway, so we continued with our plan. The RV dealership was empty of people and filled with goodies.

  Chris marked several good campers for our planned pickup. Knowing that the owner lived in a house behind the dealership, we stopped there for a survivor check. Luckily, Jeff and Karen were both still alive.

  The more people we located who still lived, the better I felt. I never thought myself a people person, yet survivors were making me feel like I had struck gold. Partially because it meant less of the creatures that we had to deal with. However, we as a group were stronger with more to split the workload. I was something of a lazy soul. The apocalypse was all work. The movies showed more partying than I actually was getting to see.

  Chris was in such a rotten mood. Usually he was the one who understood my need to relax, so I felt more isolated due to his mood and the fear that Lizzie had been giving off lately. She was usually the bravest soul I knew. She had always been too logical to be afraid, but the dead walking was anything except logical.

  Our last stop for the day, on the way back to the junkyard, was Dirk's Drugstore. The parking lot was filled with nearly thirty of the creatures. At this stage, many of them still looked alive. Chris positioned the other vehicle about three blocks away to keep our survivors safe.

  He pulled us up to the rear door to avoid the crowd of zombies in the front. The rear lot was smaller, thus less crowded. Usually the only ones who even used the rear lot worked at the drugstore or the barbershop next door.

  Chris was one of the best I had ever seen at lock-picking. He got the door open in a minute flat. “Still think I should arrest you for that, brother dear.” I chuckled quietly.

  He shot me a dark grin and grimly whispered in return, “You and what freaking army? Just be thankful that along the way I picked up some useful skills.”

  I was enjoying the camaraderie and nearly lost my life for it when I went in the door more carelessly than I should have. The zombie grabbed me as I stepped in, and I swear that everything went slow motion. The bite landed on my leather jacket sleeve, so I was protected. I had never appreciated my fashion choices as much as I did at that moment.

  I considered wearing the whole leather outfit from then on. Not sure if I would or not, but nobody had control over the thoughts that went through the mind in moments of distress.

  I found all the details of that moment burned into my brain. The pungent odor of blood and rot that came from a bloated, dirty corpse. The metallic flavor that danced on my tongue even though my mouth was closed. The darkness cut softly by the flickering track lighting still running in the store. The feel of her grabbing my arm and then biting down on my arm.

  I was not sure who she was in life, but in death she would be immortal in my memory. She had a gaping hole where her left eye should have been. She must have been ill before death because it looked as though the eye had popped out from pressure built up within. What skin remained on her was a mottled mixture of yellow and gray and hung loosely from her like plastic wrap.

  I shoved the long-handled screwdriver I was carrying through her head and felt a slight bit ill. I knew that I would need to tell Chris because I was too shaky to continue at that

  moment.

  “Hey, Chris! This one doesn't look bitten.” I figured it would piss him off to tell him that I
had screwed the pooch, so I chose to use it to my advantage.

  He stopped and came back to take a closer look. His exam only took a moment, but he had a grim look as he stood up. “We need to get some samples for Lizzie. You were right, she has not been bitten that I can see. Goddamn it, that means that this is worse than I thought!” He cursed quietly, echoing my thoughts clearly. He took a baggie from his pocket and started gathering samples.

  “Why are you carrying baggies?”

  He grinned a macabre smile. “Lizzie said she needed samples. I figured it would be easier to gather after we cleared the creatures in here. I didn't expect to have this kind of need.”

  As he gathered the samples, I calmed myself down. The rest of the time in the drugstore, I was on top of it. One close call was enough for one trip. We gathered as much supplies as we could and made sure the store was empty of the dead. Neither of us wanted to remain any longer than was necessary, so we worked quickly and efficiently. I was disappointed to see the soda counters that used to gleam coated in grime and nasty substances. Some memories tainted easily.

  Chris grabbed two half-gallon bottles of good whiskey as we left. He gave me a sigh and said in a flat voice, “Tonight I will have Shara stay with Lizzie. You and I are staying in the garage and getting our drink on. I think we need it, I know I fucking do.”

  Chris rarely drank, but I was not stupid enough to argue. I had been needing a drink for three days, and I would be enjoying the reprieve from my dry spell. Tomorrow was soon enough to allow the worry to seep in.

  The junkyard was quiet when we returned, and as it was late, I was not truly surprised. Shara was willing to stay at Lizzie's for the night, although neither looked at all happy about the idea. I was not sure why, but my youngest niece and my sister just plain disliked each other. Perhaps it was because they were too similar in nature. Both had a curious and intelligent mind and a stubborn streak a mile wide.

  Lizzie might have been uncomfortable around Shara because the girl was blunt to the point of rude, and Shara had developed far more quickly than any of us expected. Shara at thirteen already had a very adult body. Easily top heavy with a D-cup chest, Shara was more like her mama in appearance.

  Lizzie was far more slender and daintily built than even I was, so some of the discomfort on her part might have been just plain old-fashioned feminine envy. Hell, there were times when I looked at Shara and felt it myself.

  She was a gorgeous firebrand with more mechanical talent than anyone would expect. She was every bit her father's daughter, even if she looked more like her mama, and she knew it.

  Lizzie had that urbane, sexy librarian look going on. Some days I felt like I was the ugly stepsister in our story. I was not by any means ugly. However, between Lizzie, Shara, Amara, and me, I would not be winning any beauty prizes.

  Candy, Chris's only other daughter, although pretty, was more sweet and cute than a knockout. She was more like her mother in personality. Personality went a long way in how attractive a person was in my opinion. Shara had a more abrasive personality than her sister, but it was not so abrasive that I couldn't love her for who she was.

  Chris was the easiest boss in the world to work for and had designed the upstairs at the garage for his employees. The upstairs at the garage had three rooms—a full bath, a room with several beds for employees who needed a place to crash, and a breakroom. The breakroom had a snack and drink vending machine, a fridge, a stove with an oven, a toaster, a microwave, and a professional coffee pot. Someone could live there if needed and live comfortably.

  For Chris, the garage was an extension of the house. Employees, even the ones who weren't blood, were family.

  Although, to be honest, most of the employees were blood. Five of Chris’s seven children worked there. We also had four cousins who worked for Chris in the garage. He would get people from the next towns over who would come to our garage for repairs. His reputation was well-earned.

  After we got everyone settled for the night and the raid for tomorrow planned, Chris and I walked over to the garage. He was quiet until we were in the garage. “I am glad you were wearing that jacket today,” he said so quietly I almost didn't hear him.

  I startled. “You saw that then? I didn't realize you had seen it.”

  He shot me a grin. “Shit, Squid, when have I ever been that oblivious? You know better!”

  I hated the nickname Squid, but I really didn't want to correct him right then. He was in a weird mood, and I wanted to see how it would play out. We had a couple of drinks before I found the courage to speak up. “What the hell is on your mind, Chris?”

  He seemed to consider me before he answered. “I have not been able to contact anyone via radio. The tags on the car at the pole were diplomatic D.C. plates. We need answers as to what the fuck is going on. Lizzie can figure out the science. I want the other answers. I am thinking I will have to go out to D.C. to find the fucking answers. I need you at my side, and today you damn near got bitten.”

  I cringed. “I am still here,” I protested. He gave me that look. The one he used when the kids were arguing with him or Amara. I hated that look. It always made me feel like I really fucked up. “Okay, I will be more careful!”

  He sighed. “We will get the junkyard set up. Then you and I will go to see if we can get answers. I want to be sure that everyone is safe while we are gone.”

  Honestly, his logic made sense, even to my half-tipsy mind. I really didn't like the idea of leaving. It scared me shitless, but we needed answers. “Washington is a big place. We need more to go on than just some damn diplomatic plates. You have to do a bit more research, you blockhead! We can do a more thorough look at the car after the raid. Maybe we can find a place to start.”

  Chris just shot me a grin. “I already planned on that. Just how damn stupid do you think I am? Be careful how you answer that!” The grin definitely put me at ease.

  I was starting to worry he had lost his objectivity after having to put a bullet in Jimbo. I believed that I was also losing my mind. He was hurting still, and we all knew it. There was no way to fix the shit we were in. Nothing I could do would heal my brother's pain.

  Dawn approached finding us still awake and both far more sober than I had expected. I didn't have more than a couple of drinks. I must really be slipping.

  We walked over to gather everyone for the raid, only to find Amara sitting on the porch. “You may want to plan for Liz and Shara to go with when you go. They are not likely to stay if you leave.”

  Chris stiffened, his whole body going rigid. “Absolutely not! I won't have them getting themselves fucking killed!”

  Amara smiled a no-nonsense smile. She was unwilling to bend this time. “And you expect them to sit back while you risk yourselves? I think you fail to understand either of them.”

  Amara was right, but I also knew better than to get involved. My sister-in-law might be a true sweetheart, but she was really Chris's equal. She had a backbone of steel when she needed it.

  She and Chris would be pissed at me if I interfered in any conversation I was not invited to. I left them to it and went to grab a biscuit that I knew I would find in the kitchen.

  Shara

  Aunt Lizzie spent all night in her home lab. I offered to help, but I got that “are you kidding?” look. So I napped on the bed in her guest room, the one Aunt Tara had been using. I had always been a light sleeper, so I heard Lizzie mumbling all night. I got the impression she was unhappy with the results she was seeing.

  I was curious but afraid that if I interrupted it would cause her to make a mistake. Her form of science was so freaking confusing. Fuel ratios and some basic engineering, those are cool. I got those.

  She looked through scopes and dealt with strange chemicals, DNA strands, atoms, and such. So boring! I could probably build robots or hovercraft, and it would be so much more fun. With what Aunt Lizzie was in to, I was not sure what chemical she might be dealing with or the reaction if she had an accident. I chose not t
o startle her. I really disliked the idea of blowing up.

  When dawn came, I felt torn. I didn't want to distract her, but I wanted to go back to the house to be on the raid. I also wanted to grab some of my mom’s fantastic breakfast. Mom was the best freaking cook. John and Candy came in a close second.

  Luckily, she came out shortly after the dawn to grab a cup of coffee. When she saw me, she appeared confused for a moment as though she had forgotten I was here.

  “Hey, I wanna go with the raid today. You coming? Dad did say he needed all available drivers.” I stammered like an idiot because I didn't want her to think I was uncool.

  She was my least favorite aunt, but her husband used to be one of my favorite people. He legitimately adored her. There must have been a reason.

  She considered me for a moment and then sighed. “Give me a moment, Shara. I need coffee, and I want to take my results with us. Your dad will want to know what I came up with. Hopefully I didn't keep you up?”

  Her concern surprised me. I could hear the honesty in her question. She truly wanted to know. In surprise, I blurted out, “Would it matter if you did?”

  She looked like I struck her, and maybe I did. I was not kind in that question if I was honest with myself. I tended to be blunt, but I was rarely unkind in how I phrased things. Just occasionally bordering on rude.

  “Yeah, it would have. I am still your aunt. I do care about you. I realize that you and I have not gotten off on the closest of relationships, which is partly my fault. I was so jealous of how well Jimbo got along with you. Still I do care.”

  It was my turn to feel as if I had been struck, and I flinched. I found myself, for the first time ever, to be completely speechless. I had never heard her express any emotion. I didn’t realize that she felt them.