We had nearly completed our lap and the barricade was complete all the way around. It was an impressive feat in a desperate time. There must have been six hundred feet of trash and obstructions blocking the house. Old appliances and lame cars. Pallets and dumpsters. Playground equipment. Whatever they could find they had used. There was even a barn off to one side within the boundary.
Frankly, I was envious. They were on a hill above a natural water source, away from the town, and there were escape routes in most directions. This was a prime spot.
Yelling from the driveway brought me back to the moment. Five men were screaming. Three of them were running for a Bronco. The other two opened fire and shot one of the men while the others jumped in the truck. The rig roared to life under a hail of bullets. The driver spun the truck about and crashed through the barrier on the side of the house. He bounced onto the road and tore off toward town. The other men cursed and jumped in a Jeep. They tore off after the Bronco through the hole in the barrier.
“There’s our chance,” I said, and hurried toward the gap. I could hear voices inside the house. Sebastian and I readied our guns and slipped across the yard. The front door was open just far enough to get a view of the inside. Two men were sitting at a table, and another one was pacing the front room. They were debating going after the others, but they had no other car. From their conversation, I guessed it was just the three of them in the house.
So I marched in.
Guns drawn, I yelled, “Hey!”
The three men snapped their eyes to me and the color drained from their faces.
“Alright,” I said, feeling like a classic lawman, “which one of you assholes is Kyle?”
About an hour later, the Jeep returned with only one occupant. He entered the house to find three corpses seated on the couch, watching a dead television.
I love irony.
Sebastian and I surprised him from behind and before he knew what had happened, we had his gun and had bound his wrists.
“Are you Kyle?”
“He dead, boy,” the man replied with a murderous glare.
“This the guy to raped Berta?” I asked Sebastian, without taking my eyes off the prisoner.
“No,” Sebastian replied, emotion filling his tone. “He’s the guy that held her down.” It was clear to me that he was just as guilty as any of them to Sebastian.
I shook the prisoner’s arm to regain his attention. “After Kyle, you the next in line?” I asked.
He lifted his chin at me and spat.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I replied, and pushed him to the ground. “Watch him,” I ordered Sebastian, and then moved to the kitchen. We had already cleared the house, so we knew there was no one else here, but that was not all I cared about.
“What are you doing?” Sebastian asked.
“You kidding?” I replied. “They have a Jeep and a shit-load of supplies. I’m shopping.”
I filled the back of the Jeep with all I could take in one trip. I left the front seat for Sebastian.
“And him?” my partner asked. “Where does he go?”
“Strap him across the hood,” I ordered, which proved to be harder than I thought. We had to beat him for several minutes before he rested just long enough to be tied down. Even then, he made everything a fight. “Boy, I told him, “you sure struggle a lot, for a dead man.”
He fought and kicked and spat and bit at me every chance he got. He was violent, and struggling, and obstinate at every turn, regardless of how many times when punched or beat him.
Damn it took a lot to get him back to the mill.
Once inside, Sebastian and I presented our blood-soaked captive with his surprise. When he saw the pen of zombies, his attitude changed dramatically. The bold man who had killed and raped more times than I wished to know began to sob and urinate. Without words, we led his quivering frame to the gate.
“They’ll storm out as soon as we open the door,” I said, “So we should hobble him first to make it easier to toss him in.”
“He’ll be fine,” Sebastian assured me. “He knows he’s dead.”
I wasn’t convinced, but what did I care? I’ve risked my life every day for months now.
Sure enough though, when I opened the gate the zombies began to rush and our prisoner began to fight. Without a word, Sebastian wrapped his arms around the bastard that had taken his whole family and bull-rushed into the cage, slamming himself into the bodies of the dead.
“Shut the door!” he screamed as teeth and nail dug into him.
I slammed the gate closed and locked it. Sebastian screamed but he wouldn’t let go of his prize. The pain must have been excruciating. I couldn’t stand it. I took out my pistol and sent a round through Sebastian’s head. It wouldn’t prevent a transformation, but it would end his suffering. He fell limply into the arms of his cellmates.
Now the only sound above the moans and growls was the screams of our prize. His eyes begged for a similar mercy, and I wondered if Bertha gave him a comparable look as he held her down. How many of them raped her before they were done?
I turned and left him to his suffering, assuring him that I would enjoy killing him later.
I dumped out the rest of my booze and faced a new fate in life.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not some damn abolitionist. I just realized that I liked killing zombies more than moping around waiting to die.
Without
