A Girl a Dog and Zombies on the Munch Page 11

  “Wasn’t born yesterday,” Gar said, “and we have business to tend to.”

  “We do?” Rufus said.

  “Drop your guns and step back,” Gar said.

  “Be serious,” Spike said.

  “There’s three of us, dummy,” Rufus stated the obvious.

  “Why the hostility?” Gramps said. “We haven’t done anything to you.”

  “Ladies,” the man called Gar said without turning his head to look at Courtney and her friends. “Am I right in how I read this? Would you rather be shed of these gents?”

  “We sure as hell would,” Sally Ann said.

  “There you have it,” Gar said to Spike. “So I’ll say it just once more. Drop your hardware and you get to live.”

  Rufus snorted. “Listen to him!”

  Gramps glanced at Spike. “He’s too sure of himself. I say we back down.”

  “Too sure or too full?” Spike said. “And in case you’ve forgot, the Claws don’t back down to anyone. Ever.”

  Gar said, “Mister, I’ve been using this Colt since I was knee-high to a calf. You may think you have the edge but you don’t. I really don’t want to kill you so do us both a favor and let it go.”

  “Killed a lot of people, have you?” Spike sneered.

  “Two, before the world went to Hades” Gar said, and added, “In the line of duty.”

  “The service?” Gramps said.

  “Deputy sheriff.”

  “I hate cops!” Rufus said. “A badge triggers me like nothing else!”

  Spike shifted slightly, his hand still holding his pistol behind his leg. “Well, Deputy Dog, here’s how it will be. You unbuckle your gunbelt and let it down easy, and we’ll let you live.”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Gramps said.

  Spike hissed at him. “What, the world comes to an end you turn into a wimp?”

  “A man has to know when to fold his cards,” Gramps said.

  “Nothing doing. I want that pistol of his,” Spike said.

  “It’s just a gun,” Gramps said.

  “I never saw one like it.”

  Rufus was eagerly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I just want to kill him.”

  “You get off on killing everything you can,” Gramps said.

  Rufus laughed. “It’s like those potato chips. You can never get enough.”

  Gar said, “How about we have one of the girls count to three?”

  “What?” Spike said.

  “Why three?” Rufus said.

  “Now you just hold on,” Gramps said.

  “Count to three, Courtney,” Gar said.

  Courtney couldn’t say what made her do it. She started in without thinking. “One. Two. Three.”

  Spike swept his pistol up. Rufus started to raise his gun. Gramps was slower to react and jerked his big semiautomatic.

  Courtney caught it all out of the corner of her eye. She was watching Gar. She saw his hand flick so quick that if she wasn’t looking right at him, she would have missed it. Somehow, his pearl-handled Colt was up and out and booming in less than the blink of an eye. He fanned it three times, shots so swift, they were almost a single sound.

  Gar’s expression never changed. He was as calm and relaxed as if he were turning on a TV. After the third shot, he held the Colt steady at his hip, ready to fire again should it be necessary.

  It wasn’t.

  Spike, Rufus and Gramps lay sprawled in postures of violent death. Each had a hole in the middle of their forehead.

  Spike and Rufus wore looks of dumb amazement.

  “Sorry you had to see that, ladies,” Gar said in his quiet way.

  “I’m not,” Sally Ann said. “I’d pay to see it again.”

  Gar stripped the dead Claws of their weapons and handed the rifle to Courtney and Gramps’s pistol to Sally Ann. Spike’s small pistol, Gar gave to Sansa.

  Courtney arched an eyebrow. “She’s a little young for that.”

  “Use to, she would be.” Gar said in that drawl of his. “But now....” He motioned at the Claws. “I”ll show you how to shoot later on, little one,” he told Sansa. “Right now we’ve got things to do.”

  “Taking over, are you?” Sally Ann said.

  “Those shots might bring eaters,” Gar replied.

  “Is that what you call them?” Sally Ann said, and laughed. “We call them zombies.”

  “A rose is still a rose, right?” Gar said.

  “Wow,” Sally Ann said.

  “What?” Courtney said. “What does a rose have to do with zombies?”

  Neither answered her. Stepping to the Piper Cub, Gar opened the door. “How about a hand? I’ve got supplies we can use.”

  The cabin was smaller than Courtney imagined it would be, the space behind the pilot’s seat crammed with packs and cases and whatnot. As Gar rummaged among them, she asked out of curiosity, “Is Gar your first or your last name?”

  “My full handle is Garland Rhett Shannon,” he said while opening a backpack.

  “Handle?” Courtney said. “I never heard anyone call their name that.”

  “It’s an old-time word,” Gar said. “Folks still use it in the hills.”

  “Thank you for helping us,” Courtney thought to say.

  “Three damsels in distress,” Gar said. “How could a gentleman not?”

  “You talk strange,” Courtney said. She liked it, though. She especially liked the slight twang to his voice.

  “Where were you headed?” Sally Ann inquired.

  “Canada, more or less,” Gar said, taking a box of ammunition from the backpack and sliding it into a pocket on his slicker.

  “More or less?” Sally Ann said.

  Gar shrugged. “It didn’t make much difference. I lost all my kin back to Arkansas. Figured Canada, there are less people than in the U.S., so fewer eaters. Plus I have a cousin up there somewhere.”

  “You sound so sad when you talk about that,” Sansa said.

  “I should be happy that my dad and mom and sis and brother are all gone?”

  “I lost mine, too,” Sansa said.

  “Makes three of us,” Courtney chimed in.

  “Four,” Sally Ann said.

  “Sorry for all of us,” Gar said sincerely. He held out the backpack. “Can you tote this, pretty gal? It has a lot we’ll need.”

  Grunting, Courtney hefted the pack, then realized what he had said. Hiding a smile, she swung the pack over her left shoulder. “Heavy.”

  “Cans and such,” Gar said. “Now where are you ladies headed?”

  “A survivalist compound,” Courtney said. “We heard about it on the shortwave. Might be safer there.”

  “You reckon they’ll take you in?”

  Until that moment, Courtney hadn’t give it much thought. She’d assumed that she and her friends would show up, knock on their door, and be admitted. People had to help each other, right?

  “Courts,” Sally Ann said, pointing. “We’ve got trouble.”

  A lone zombie—its clothes in tatters and splotched with red smears that must be dried blood—was approaching along the road from the north. It was a fast one, loping at a pace a human would be hard pressed to keep up. Hunched over, it raised its head from time to time as if it were sniffing.

  “Maybe it won’t notice us,” Courtney hoped.

  Gaga growled.

  Instantly the zombie’s head snapped around. Like a streak it vaulted a low ditch and sprinted toward the plane.

  “If something ever goes right for us,” Sally said, “I don’t know if I could stand the shock.”

  Courtney sank to a knee and pressed the rifle to her shoulder. She’d need to wait until it was close enough to be certain.

  “Let me, ladies,” Gar said, moving to put himself between them and the ghastly horror.

  “We don’t need babysitting,” Sally Ann said.

  “Perish forbid,” Gar said.


  The zombie rapidly closed. It was forty yards out. Then thirty. Hissing loudly, it bared its teeth.

  “Ugly suckers,” Gar said, and drew his revolver. This time he wasn’t in any hurry. He casually drew and casually fired from the hip.

  The top of the fast zombie’s head exploded and their would-be slayer lurched, tottered, and fell.

  “Piece of cake,” Gar said, and grinned at Courtney. “Old family saying,” he added, twirling his Colt into its holster.

  “My dad had a saying,” Courtney felt compelled to mention . “Where there’s a will, there’s a Hewitt.”

  “We’d best pick up the pace,” Gar said. “We want to be long gone before they get here.”

  “They who?”

  “There’s a huge herd heading this way, coming from the south. I caught sight of them from the plane. Must be hundreds of the things.”

  “You didn’t think to mention that sooner?” Sally Ann said.

  CHAPTER 22

  Laden with packs, they hurried to the market.

  Courtney let Gar take the lead. It wasn’t that he was a guy. He was a better shot, and better able to protect them.

  “How about we use the bikes?” Sally Ann suggested. “It beats going on foot.”

  “Can you ride one?” Gar asked.

  “Ride, as in shift gears?” Sally Ann shook her head.

  Gar glanced at Courtney.

  “Me neither.”

  “Then the bikes are out,” Gar said. “I can, but I’m not about to leave any of you behind.”

  “You’ve only just met us,” Sally Ann said. “You don’t owe us anything.”

  “I owe myself.”

  Courtney wondered what he meant. She could feel herself being drawn to him and it troubled her. The last time she felt anything like this was when she had a crush on the captain of the basketball team.

  As they came around to the front, Gar caught sight of the pickup. “Does that run?”

  “We haven’t tried to start it,” Sally Ann said.

  Gar went to the truck and opened the driver’s door. “No keys.”

  “Even if we had them, the odds are against it,” Sally Ann said. “Most vehicles don’t.”

  “Most isn’t all.”

  They entered the market.

  “Any space left in your packs,” Gar said, “load up on canned goods and drinks.”

  Sally Ann chuckled. “Is it me or do you like giving orders?”

  Gar made for the counter.

  “I don’t know about him,” Sally Ann whispered to Courtney.

  “I do,”

  “How, pray tell? We’ve known the guy for all of ten minutes.”

  “Call it a hunch.”

  “Call it hormones, is more like it,” Sally Ann said. “I’ve seen how you look at him.”

  “I look at him the same as I look at everybody.”

  Gar let out a whoop and came from behind the cash register jiggling a set of keys. “Look what I found in a drawer.”

  “How do we know one is a key to the pickup?” Sally Ann said.

  “Were you born always looking at the bad side of things or have you worked at it?”

  “Say what?” Sally Ann said.

  Courtney laughed.

  Gar went out and Courtney followed. He climbed in, smiled at her and crossed his fingers, and turned the keys.

  The starter ground but nothing happened.

  “If at first...,” Gar said.

  It took six tries before the truck sputtered and belched a cloud of smoke and noisily rumbled to life.

  Gar gave the dash a smack of delight. “Now we can travel in style.”

  “How is it fixed for gas?” Courtney brought up.

  “Three quarters,” Gar said. “This old model, I make it that the tank probably has around twenty gallons left, give or take a few. Let’s say fifteen to eighteen gallons per mile. That gives us a range of three hundred to three hundred and sixty miles. Again, give or take.”

  “More than enough to reach the compound,” Courtney said excitedly.

  “Do you know anything more about the place? Anything at all?”

  “Only what we told you. Why?”

  “I just don’t want to get there and have to shoot our way in.”

  “You’d do that?” Courtney said.

  “I’ll do whatever I have to to keep the three of you safe.”

  A warm sensation spread from Courtney’s head to her toes. She was sure she blushed. To cover her reaction, she pretended to be interested in the sky.

  Gar seemed to hesitate, then said, “You don’t have a fella anywhere, do you?”

  Taken aback, Courtney coughed. “Why do you want to know?”

  “I’ve kind of taken a shine to you,” Gar said, sounding surprised that he had.

  “Courtney!” Sansa suddenly cried. “Zombies are coming!”

  Courtney nearly jumped. She hadn’t realized the girl was there.

  Far off to the south the road was jammed with lurching, shambling figures.

  “Load up and we’re out of here,” Gar said.

  Courtney lifted Gaga into the bed with the packs and supplies. Gaga whined and kept trying to climb back out so Courtney tied her to a ring on the side panel.

  Once in the pickup, Courtney had Sansa sit on her lap. It was the only way they would all fit.

  “Let our adventure begin!” Sally Ann declared as they wheeled from the lot.

  Any hopes Courtney entertained of reaching the survivalist compound at Lake Bronson State Park quickly were soon dashed.

  They hadn’t gone more than a couple of miles when they came on a stretch of road that looked as if it had been melted. Something had caused the asphalt to bubble and rupture and clump for hundreds of yards. In spots, black fountains several feet high were frozen in place, as if the asphalt had solidified after being projected skyward.

  Gar braked and got out.

  So did Courtney and Sally Ann.

  “I’ve never seen the like,” Gar remarked.

  “What could have caused this?” Courtney said.

  Sally Ann bent and touched the tip of a finger to a black fountain.

  “You might not want to....,” Gar began.

  Yipping in pain, Sally Ann jumped back and frantically rubbed the finger on his pants. “It burns!”

  Courtney grabbed her friend’s wrist and held it so they could see her hand. Tiny blisters had sprouted.

  Tears welled in Sally Ann’s eyes. “It hurts like hell!” She made as if to stick her finger her mouth but thought better of the idea.

  Courtney turned to go to the pickup for a bottle of water but Gar had beat her there. He returned, unscrewing the cap. Without a word, he took Sally Ann’s hand and slid her finger into the bottle.

  Immediately, relief washed over her and she smiled. “Oh! Thanks! That helps a lot.”

  “Keep your finger in there a while” Gar said when she went to pull it out. He nodded at the warped asphalt. “It’s a cinch we can’t drive over that. Would likely eat holes in our tires.”

  “So we go around,” Courtney said.

  The field was rutted and bumpy. Gar drove slowly but Courtney bounced so hard at one point, she cracked her head on the top of the cab. They were almost past the ruined asphalt when Sansa extended her arm and screamed.

  A green mist, as high as the trees and stretching for a quarter of a mile, was crawling over a hill to the west.

  “I’ve seen those before,” Gar said.

  “So have we,” Courtney said. “If we’re caught in one, we’re dead.”

  “Or changed into a pus-covered nightmare,” Sally Ann said.

  “We should be able to outrun it,” Gar said. Swerving to where the road resumed its normal course, he increased speed.

  As Courtney watched, the green cloud roiled and shifted, tendrils sprouting like the arms on an octopus, thin whips that grew steadily larger.

  “How does it do that?” Sally Ann marvel
ed. “It’s as if the thing is alive.”

  The speedometer was at seventy. Ahead, a straight stretch would enable them to leave the cloud well behind.

  “Is it me,” Sally Ann said, “or is that thing moving faster?”

  Courtney’s skin crawled. Her friend was right. The green cloud was moving faster. Not only that, it was angling down the hill on an intercept course. “No way.”

  “It won’t catch us,” Gar assured them.

  “Courtney!” Sansa screamed.

  Another cloud had appeared to the east. Bigger than the first, and spread over a wider front, it advanced toward the road, tendrils writhing and coiling.

  “Two of them so close together?” Courtney said in dismay.

  “For all we know they hunt in packs,” Sally Ann said.

  “They’re clouds,” Gar said, concentrating on his driving. “Not wolves.”

  “In the Twin Cities they were drawn to people as if hunting them.” Sally Ann said. “Maybe they’re some kind of nanite, programmed to assimilate us.”

  “What’s a nanite?” Sansa asked.

  “A tiny device,” Sally Ann said. “So small, you can only see them through a microscope.”

  Courtney was more interested in the clouds. The new one was moving much faster than the first and had less ground to cover before it reached the road.

  “It’s almost like they’re trying to catch us between them,” Gar said.

  Courtney thought so, too. Her arm around Sansa, she gripped the dash with her other hand, gripped it so tight, her knuckles were white.

  The speedometer was past eighty, the fields and woods flying by.

  “There’s a curve ahead!” Sally Ann warned.

  Gar braked hard, cutting their speed in half and bringing a squeal of protest from their tires.

  “There! A town!” Sally Ann exclaimed.

  A sign with the name and population flashed past so fast, Courtney couldn’t read it.

  Ahead stretched fifteen to twenty blocks of mostly businesses. Side streets were lined with typical suburban homes.

  The inhabitants were either hiding indoors or roaming the streets seeking prey. At least seven zombies were prowling the main street alone.

  A lot of the windows were shattered. Glass littered the sidewalks. About half the parking spaces were lined with cars that wouldn’t start—or whose owners were no longer able to drive.