Chapter
43: Making a Way Back
Sara
greets the coming sunrise by poking her head out of the drainpipe. She looks
like an overly cautious groundhog. Sara wonders if she will see her own shadow
in the coming light signaling six more weeks of zombie apocalypse. “So far so
good” She whispers. Lockett glances down in the drainage culvert below her. She
sees the armless corpse whose head she had destroyed with the rock last night.
It bobs about on the surface of the pooled water. It is damaged head leaves an
oil slick of brain matter floating in the cloudy rainwater. “Ben we need to
head out your side.” She announces back down the wide aluminum pipe. Her voice
carries reverberating with an echo down to Ben James. Ben sneaks a quick glance
out of his end of the pipe. He gently places the rock he had used as a weapon
down just inside the rim of the pipe. Scanning the area Ben cannot see any zombies
meandering about the area. He knows they are there they are always there. “I
got nothing over here Sara.” He responds finally tuning around to face Sara
down the length of the pipe. “Well ….” A man veiled in darkness croaks out
between the two of them. His voice is little more than a strained wheeze. It
comes in short breathless gasps. “We really … need … to get our asses in
doors.” The man who had shared the drainage pipe with them all night finishes
up. “What I need to do is get back to my family.” Ben’s voice is hard and cold
like ice. “Then …” He begins to clench his fists. “I’m gonna take my trusty rock
and bash The Sin Preacher’s head in.” Ben leans out the pipe one more time
before stepping out cautiously onto the damp lush grass. “Sara I should have
listened to you. I’m sorry ok?” Ben looks up staring past the crumpled form to
Sara. Sara duck walks her mud covered bare body down next to the man. They make
eye contact. “Look Mr. James.” Sara pauses. “You let me smash her head in and
we can call it even deal?” She gives him a playful smile. Even caked with filth
her dark beautiful features beam down the length of the pipe. “You ready
Willie?” She asks eyeing Ben. “Yeah … yeah just need a shoulder to lean on.” Willie
pivots with Sara at his back he scoots his way through stagnate foul smelling water
towards Ben. Ben reaches out a helping hand. He assists the man out of the pipe
that had been their shelter all night. Sara and Ben get their first glance at
the man in the grimy orange prison jumpsuit.
“So what were you in prison for Willie?”
Sara asks hoping down from the pipe instinctively crouching low to the ground.
“Uh …” Willie winces. “Drug dealing … pimping, murder ...” Willie huffs as he
checks his offenses off mentally. “Pretty much all the things it takes to run a
moderately successful drug outfit.” Ben takes Willie’s toned arm placing over
his thick shoulder. He casts an untrustworthy glance at the light-skinned black
man with corn rolls in his hair. Ben proceeds lock eyes with the man. His nose
crinkles at the bridge. “So yeah nothing personal but I’ve had my fill of
assholes in orange prison jumpsuits.” Sara snorts sarcastically attempting to
get her bearings. “Well so have I.” Willie laughs his free arm makes its way to
his left side. His hand covers a blossoming bloodstain there. Unlike the other
bloodstains that cover Willie’s clothes. This one is still damp and seeping up
from inside the jumpsuit. The laughter causes the man obvious excruciating
pain. Willie’s face contorts as he tosses his head back. Ben pushes the thinner
man off his shoulder. A look of fear races across Ben’s dirty face. “We’re you
fucking bit?” Ben whispers angrily looking around. Willie shakes his head
weakly. “No like I said last night.” He stops to draw in a few gasping
breathes. “I was running from those zombie things.” Willie hangs like an
unwanted child’s toy in Ben’s grip. He points up at the railroad trestle that
had saved Ben and Sara the previous night. Ben notices the blade in the man’s
hand for the first time. He uses his eyes to signal Sara. She returns a quick
nod indicating her understanding. “I turned to looked back …” Willie stops
looking about the immediate area. “I slipped and fell barely had time to catch
myself. I smashed the shit out of my side. Think I probably fucked up a rib or
two.” Ben slowly pulls the man back against him. “I dropped my pack in the
water too.” Ben and Sara exchange a look of understanding. They recalled a
splash in the river that drew the undead away from them last night. It was
possible that Willie had inadvertently saved both their lives. Willie slaps his
free hand against his hip in exasperation. The blood-caked prison made knife falls
from his hand. Sara drops her rock snatching up the crudely made stabbing
device. She walks it down to the edge of the dirty rainwater that had collected
in the ditch. She rinses it off like an archaeologists with some ancient find
they cannot readily identify. “My shiv….” Willie says smiling down at Sara.
“Shiv” was right Sara though to herself. “The foot long blade appeared to have
come from a bed rail of some sort. It was a dull silver the color of an old
nickel. Its hilt tightly wrapped in some type of cheap once white cloth. Sara examined
the weapon its tip filed to a point by repeated scrapes across some sort of
stone. “Mind if I hold onto this?” She asks Willie without even looking up. “Nope
she’s served me well.” Willie says squinting into the new day Sun. “I killed a
lot of those undead bastards escaping that hell hole of a prison.” He hitched
himself closer to Ben. “Now big fella … ah Ben I is it?” Benjamin James bobs
his head deliberately. “Can we get some place a little safe that’s not a filled
with stagnate water?”
The waterlogged trio slowly moves up the hill
rising up in front of them. Ben huffs gruffly. “We need to get back to the
other side. Then work our way back to First New Faith.” Sara’s examines the
rolling fields surrounding them cautiously. “Mr. James I agree we need to get back
but we don’t exactly know which way is back.” They look to each other Sara sees
the fear in Ben’s face. He knows she is correct their heads were down as the
ghouls drove last night. They had lost all sense of direction. “I came from
this way.” Willie speaks up motioning with his finger back over a grassy knoll.
“Never made it to the side you guys came from.” Ben looks back over the rusted
structure covered at each end with white spray painted graffiti. “When I fell
it was all I could do to crawl back down into that damn pipe.” Ben’s eyes
narrow into slits. “Shit.” He mumbles aloud. Sara and Willie turn to looks
across the bridge as well. There were at least a dozen zombies shuffling out of
a thicket of trees. Their slack jaws hung open as their out stretched arms pawed
at the air. “Rotters ….” Sara mouthed. “Can they make it across there?” Willie
asks. “Don’t know …” Ben tugs the man draped over him grabbing his belt lop.
“Let’s move I aint sticking around here to find out if they can cross that’s
for sure.” “Big man I passed some houses back up that way.” Willie interjects.
They top the slight hill in front of them. The sight of a battered house greets
them across the rolling expanse. Other houses dot the landscape they appear
like dots further out from their position. “I count eight of them between us
and that house Mr. James.” Sara stares down at some of the slow moving zombies
who have already spotted them. They turn in mass hobbling on broken and
dislocated limbs. From Behind them comes the sound of bodies hitting water. The
dead are attempting to traverse the trestle with little or no success. “The
sound will draw more of them out.” Sara remarks. “We can get to the house and
plan our next move.” Ben takes his first tentative steps down the embankment on
the slippery grass. He had grown accustomed to being naked but he would kill
for a pair of shoes right about now. “Hey pretty lady …” Willie calls out a
halfhearted sly grin on his face. “Don’t let them bunch up take’em on one at a
time.” Sara nods dashing off in advance of the men. “Aim for the eye sockets
with my baby … and she’ll do the rest.” A quick series of raspy coughs
interrupts Willie’s next words. Sara is moving quickly towards the first Rotter
in their path. Willie leans his head on Ben’s shoulder. “Dude a butt ass naked
hot chick fighting zombies. We’re living every nerds dream.” Willie laughs
causing bolts of pains to rocket up from his busted ribs. “Shut up.” Ben says
stopping just short of dropping the convict. He was losing his fondness for the
Willie faster than he thought possible. As he watches Sara go, his thoughts
turn to his family. The last thing he was going to do was take a smart assed
half-dead drug dealing murder back with him to rescue them.
Private Sara Lockett takes bold strides
through the thick wet grass. Her feet find it hard to maintain traction. She
throws a peek back and Ben who is all but dragging Willie. Sara does not look
ahead to the white house in the distance. She focuses on the dead thing lumbering
towards her. It was more than likely female or had once been. The zombie front
half is charred down to the bone is still smoking she noted. The zombie looks
like a piece of meat from head to toe that someone forgot on a hot grill. Sara
pays no mind to the warm sun on her bare skin. She tightens her grip on the
shank Sara realizes clearly it is designed to stab not slash. The zombie moans
as the space closes between them. Its arms raise up like a demented possessed
puppet. The undead things eyes never leave Sara’s. They meet with Sara ducking
low to avoid the zombie’s out stretched arms. She moves up from the side
meaning to plunge the sharpened metal into her attacker’s eye socket. Her
assault is halted mid-swing by the stench of burnt flesh. It reaches down into
her painfully empty stomach. The vile smell draws dry heaves up from her gut.
Sara feels the corpses sandpaper like scorched skin as its hands claws at her
hair. “Sara!” Ben screams out. She ignores Ben concentrating on stifling the involuntary
retching bringing acid up in her throat. Private Lockett grunts wind milling
her hand in an arc. She drives the point of the metal deep into the Rotter’s eye
socket. With a vicious twist of the shiv, the zombie falls to the sound of
bones splintering. “Sara you ok?” Ben calls in a panic. Sara waves him off
“yeah ... yeah.” She breathes deeply her
hands on her knees. “Fucking thing stank to high hell.” She hollers back. Sara
stands up checking her surroundings. “Let’s keep moving right up the middle
take the shortest route.” With that, Sara takes off at a trot. She encounters a
dead man wearing thin wire rimmed glasses. She notices a hole in the dead man’s
neck. Chucks of chewed flesh plop out the hole reminding Sara of a meat
grinder. The thought fades from her mind as she pushes the shank into the
zombie’s eye socket shattering the lens of its glasses. Sara lays the corpse
down like a preacher baptizing a sinner. She steps over the body looking up the
house is closer. There is only one zombie between them and the house. She can
see the structure better now. Its white paint is chipping and the big two-story
house looks rundown. There is a shiny metal ladder running up to the roof. It
strikes her as the safest place to rest. This would give them ample time to
scout the rest of the area. “How will we get Willie up there?” She hears reverberate
though her mind. Suddenly a large rotund man appears standing on the roof of
the enclosed back porch. He is wearing a pristine white tee shirt and grey
jogging pants.
The big round man holds a pink child’s
plastic beach bucket of rainwater up taking a long drink from it. “Hey!” Sara calls
out taking care not to wave the gore covered hand holding Willie’s prison
shank. The balding man sports an atypical horseshoe of black hair around a
large bald patch. He drops the bucket as a look of terror washes across his
face. “Probably thinks we’re a couple of Trotters.” Sara mumbles to herself.
The walking corpse nearest to her drags itself along on one good leg. The other
scrapes the bare gravel covered area behind the house. The dead thing’s foot is
twisted a hundred and eighty degrees behind it. Sara races up the rock-strewn path.
The varying shaped stones begin to bite into her bare feet. She stands her
ground rather than risk injuring her feet. “Can you help us we’re not zombies?”
Sara shouts. The man looks like a scared rabbit ready to bolt, so she puts her
attention back where it should be on the zombie. She takes a defensive stance
and when the putrid teenager is close, enough she lashes out a foot into its
thigh. Sara’s blow hits the damaged limb squarely dropping the corpse to its
knees. She seizes the opportunity to stab the blade down into the top of the
zombies head. The skull parts like broken china as Sara rotates it with both
hands. Sara Lockett turns to see Ben James dragging Willie faster. The dead
they had past once scattered about the vast field were now coming together in a
loose pack. Sara looks over her shoulder casually. She watches the stout man
step to the edge of the roof just above an aluminum ladder. For the briefest
moment, she has a comical vision of the fat man in the grey jogging pants floating
away like a balloon. Instead, he repositions himself and makes his way down the
ladder. “No … no … nooo.” He scolds like a Sunday school teacher. The ladder
clatters against the old house as his foot touches down onto the packed earth.
“You can’t lead them here or they’ll comeback tonight.” He says to Private
Lockett paying the attractive dark skinned girl no mind. “Yeah well tell me
something I don’t know.” Sara rolls her eyes at the man. She drops her hands to
her knees winded. “Sir I’ll take care of these few.” Sara points with her free
hand at the zombies shambling across the field. She looks back at the house.
“Do you have some place where we can rest up and maybe find some clothes?” The
big man rubs his smooth red face lingering around his chin. Sara takes note of
his freshly shaved face. He spins around eyes fixating on the house. He is
briefly lost in his own thoughts before turning back to Sara. “Have any of
y’all been bit or scratched by a zombie? On a count of the movies I done seen
say that’s a bad thing.” Sara shakes her head to indicate “no.” “My friend and
I found this guy when we went to hide in a drain pipe down by the river. He
says he slipped and fell while crossing the railroad trestle.” Ben and Willie
finally move into the conversation. “Hey can we get the fuck inside or what fat
boy?” Willie blurts from Ben’s shoulder. Ben jostles the convict roughly
repositioning him. He makes sure his displeasure is painfully evident. “Ahhhh
…” Is the sole sound Willie can make as volcanic rush of red-hot agony grips
his torso. “What my inconsiderate friend Willie meant to say is might we please
come into your home to rest for a bit Sir?” “Sure Mister.” The man responds
taking more notice of the tattered prison jumpsuit hanging loosely around
Willie. It appears more disconcerting to the man than either of the naked
people with him. “First we gots to kill all these damn zombies.” The man says
as he walks back towards the house. “You can all rest here on the porch.” The
man cocks his head down in the direction of three rickety white washed steps.
The steps apparently compromised the back porch the man had made mention of. He
grabbed a shovel that was propped up against the house.
Sara looked to Ben. “Go with him.” He tells
her counting the zombies who had pursued them. “Alright Mr. James but keep an
eye out for stragglers.” She says sauntering behind their quirky savior. “Man
that’s a fine piece bro you tappin’ that?” Willie asks watching Private Lockett
leave. “No I’m married Willie and if you keep acting like an asshole. I’m going
to punch you right in the middle of that bloodstain on your side.” Willie’s
hands immediately move to cover his wounded side. “Look big man I’m sorry I
been in jail for a couple of years dude no offense.” Willie offers up in his
defense. “Well my friend let me make one thing clear. There are several women
in our group.” Ben bites back his words thinking of the others locked in that
church with a homicidal maniac. “And if you attempt anything remotely shady or
ungentlemanly like. With God as my witness I will snap your legs and leave you
for the zombies to play with.” Ben stares down at the injured man. His eyes
narrow as he and Willie’s brown eyes meet. “Am I clear?” He asks Willie.
“Crystal.” Willie utters looking paler than he had earlier. Ben does not know
if its fear or blood loss and he does not care. Sara is hot on the portly man’s
heels raising up the bloodied shiv. With a grunt, the man swings his shovel in
a two-handed shoulder high semi-circle. “Name’s Lawrence Faulkner.” He shouts his
black shovel blade connects with a pair of zombie’s heads. Both Rotters hit the
ground in a heap. Lawrence diligently drives the blade down into the first dead
man’s face. Moving quickly he stomps the blade down on the zombies undead
companion’s head. He has the look of a farmer turning over soil with the
shovel. Lawrence takes the top half of zombie’s heads off like splitting a melon.
Lawrence walks down the slight slope of the hill. He pulls his shovel back up
hearing four remaining straggling corpses. The undead pack makes their way
towards the humans undeterred. Their ragged moans filtering out into the
surrounding area. “Well Lawrence I’m Sara, the big naked black guy is Ben and
the convict is Willie.” Sara pulls even with Lawrence. “We stumbled upon him
last night.” Lawrence nods to Sara. “Well Ms. Sara if you don’t mind stepping
back.” Lawrence shoos Sara back like a diligent big brother. “I’ll take care of
these dead folks here.” He motions down towards the ever-advancing zombies.
There are four of them making their way up the grassy incline. The first two
zombies are male. “Sheriff Lee?” Lawrence speaks up his face a mixture of shock
and remorse. He stares at the shredded arms of the walking corpse as they reach
for him. The moment passes as Lawrence draws in a deep breath. He smashes the
shovel blade down with an over handed swing. The sound of the shovel’s black
blade fracturing the dead man’s head reverberates across the open field. The
Sheriff drops to the ground instantly. The next zombie plods along tripping
over the Sheriff falling face first in the dusty packed gravel. Sara swoops in
plunging the shiv into the zombie’s ear. She does not stop twisting until the
Rotter falls still. “Look out!” Lawrence shouts Sara cranes her head up to see
an old white haired woman missing a sizable chunk of her face and most of her
belly. The woman falls forward hoping to catch the nude young soldier. “I told
you to stay back now.” Lawrence cautions her catching the zombie under its chin
with his shovel blade. He holds the shovel’s handle as the corpse drives its
face further down on the sharpened blade. Lawrence has the look of a man with a
monstrous fish on his line. Sara stands to her feet falling behind Lawrence.
The burly man wrenches the handles left then right. This causes the dead
woman’s mandible to pop of her face. Viscera streams down the shovel handle as
Lawrence pitches his catch backwards. He gags at the sight of the zombie’s
tongue wetly slapping the back of the shovel’s blade. With one final thrust and
the crunch of bone, mercifully the zombie goes still. Lawrence deposits her at
the feet of the final Rotter that had pursued them. “Oh shit kill his ass!”
Sara points but Lawrence does not turn in her direction. Sara recognizes the
fat round Boss Hog looking Rotter in tight gym shorts. “He’s one of those smart
ones; he and his buddies chased us last night.” She grits her teeth wanting to
put the fat zombie down herself. Lawrence steadies his aim raising the shovels
up as if it was a spear. He makes eye contact with the corpse for a fraction of
a second and knows the girl is telling the truth. He stabs the shovel into the
things face just above the bridge of its nose. The chubby dead man teeters over
falling into the ground truly dead. Lawrence plants the shovel in the grass
scanning the horizon looking all around. Breathing in deeply the big man seems
to enjoy a moment of peace closing his eyes. Lawrence suns himself in the warms
early morning sunlight and smiles. Blinking his eyes open, he does not see any
of the undead. Once Lawrence is satisfied, he turns his attention to the
zombies laying at his feet. He catches a glimpse of Sara’s backside as she
hovers over the Sheriff. “Is he dead” He asks, “I mean really dead?” “Yep” says
Sara. “Which is why he won’t need this gun.” She holds the pistol in the air her
hands move in a blur as she checks the weapon dropping the magazine out before
slamming it back in. “He won’t need these spare clips or these handcuffs
either.” Sara looks back towards Ben and Willie. She wants the con to see her
pulling the cuffs and a ring of keys free from the dead Sheriff. “Well so are
these.” Lawrence waves a hand at the corpses in the dirt. “Miss Sara why don’t
we get ourselves inside the house before more of them come snooping around?”
Lawrence says as he lightly plants a hand on Sara’s elbow.
“Alright folks follow me and don’t touch
anything please.” Lawrence orders from the top of the steps. He pushes open the
back door. What greets them is a blast of cold dank mustiness spilling out from
a dark void. “Stay close to me.” Lawrence moves in first disappearing followed
by Ben totting Willie. Sara brings up the rear pistol at the ready remembering
the last time they dared to trust as stranger. She moves in and a cold chill
draws goose bumps upon her dark sweaty skin. Unlike the First New Faith Baptist
Church, this place is immediately foreboding. Sara’s mind goes back to the
first time she entered the church. “If it’d felt like this I’d have turned
right the fuck around” She thinks to herself. “Close the door.” Lawrence
whispers and Sara does as instructed. The four of them are in pitch black
cramped darkness. She feels trapped as the sound of paper rustling fills the
air in the room. Sara reaches out placing a hand on Ben’s warm back for
comfort. A light blazes to life in front of them. Lawrence is holding an
oil-burning lantern up as if he is a train conductor. The orange flame casts
light on the area around them. They are pinned into the wall by mountains of
old newspapers and garbage. The stench causes Willie to gasps for breath. “What
the fuck man …. I got asthma?” He wheezes trying desperately not to cough. “Me
too …” Lawrence smiles broadly like he and Willie are members in some sort of
secret club. The light thrown off by the lantern seems to make Lawrence’s round
head glow. “Look guys I’m sorry my Ma’ she was a hoarder never threw nothing
away.” Sara is aware the big man is sniffling. “When she and my Pa and Uncle
left, I … well. I just didn’t have the heart to change anything.” Willie’s
wheezing becomes more rapid. “Man this shit is sick fat boy!” He shouts
covering his nose while hanging onto Ben. “Yeah I know it is.” Lawrence says
solemnly. “It’s all I know … you know how I was raised.” Lawrence speaks up
defensively. “You know how it is when a person who only speaks a foreign
language that you don’t understand is trying to talk to you?” He sighs deeply
as if troubled by a memory. “I mean you know they are speaking but you just
can’t understand them. Well that’s what living with a person who is mentally ill
is like.” Sara got it she understood fully what the man was saying. Her mind
escaped the dank house and found its way to her grandfather all those thousands
of miles away. Sara Lockett felt as though she might choke up herself. “To hell
with that Sir I got one question.” Ben utters. “As your humbled guest I just
need to know is it safe here?” Lawrence’s head perks up he lifts the lantern up
with a smile. They can see a thin piece of dirty rope that vanishes into the
darkness above them. “Yes … yes it is.” Lawrence grabs the cord. “Step back
please.” He says as they all part ways Ben and Willie crush Sara into the
corner against the door. With a simple tug on the rope from above comes the
creak of wood. Before Ben and Will can react, a brown folded ladder appears. “Please
be my guest.” Lawrence Falkner ushers the trio up the ladder staying behind
drop a massive beam of wood into metal brackets barring the backdoor. He props
his shovel against the door for safekeeping as well. Lawrence ascends the
ladder behind his guest with a well-rehearsed ease. He finds them bottle necked
at the top of the ladder in a tiny attic doorway. They stare out into a small
dimly lit attic. The space is so immaculately clean that is almost hospital
sterile.
Sara and Ben have made it through the night. They have met a few new people but their main goal remains the same. To get back to their people at The First New Faith Baptist Church. Their second goal appears to be the demise of The Sin Preacher.
Come back and see what happens in Chapter 44 the week of March 30th!
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