“You’re right,” I say, holding my head high. “What you’re seeing isn’t the whole picture at all.” We look at each other. Over his shoulder, I see Randy glower and grip his gun tightly. My heart beats wildly. Barber pauses, giving me just a moment, just an instant of time to push through, to make my case. “You’re being fooled, President, sir,” I say. “It isn’t me that’s been infecting people, it’s Randy.” Boston and Sydney burst out in guffaws of humorless laughter. Randy attempts a laugh himself, but his hand is tight on his gun.
Barber doesn’t look amused. He steps closer to me. For the first time, I smell him, a mixture of some kind of strong alcohol and wood smoke. For some reason, it frightens me, and I take a helpless step backward. Barber’s hand flashes out and he clutches my wounded wrist. I cry out in pain and drop to one knee.
“Don’t you lie to me,” Barber hisses. “Not to me, understand?”
“I’m not lying, sir!” I cry out. The pain in my wrist is exploding all the way up my arm. “Randy’s been infecting all of us! He’s got infected oatmeal bars in his bag! You can check, you can see!” Barber presses harder on my wrist and I collapse in a ball at his feet.
“Don’t you lie to me!” he cries.
“Search the bags on his horse!” I scream. “Search them! You can shoot me if I’m lying! You can shoot me!” Barber releases my wrist.
“I can shoot you anyway,” he tells me, standing over me.
“She’s just trying to buy time with this ridiculous story,” Randy says. “Let’s shoot her and burn this Zombie and get the hell out of here.”
Barber glowers down at me. His eyes study me with open distrust and hatred. Then he turns toward Boston and Sydney. “Get the horse,” he says. “Let’s see what’s in those bags.”
“You stupid shit,” says Randy through clenched teeth.
Then the shooting begins.
158
The first shot is meant for my head, but Barber moves in front of me and gets it in the stomach. The shot explodes through him and I feel a warm spray of blood against my face as I scramble away to find cover. I don’t know where the next shots hit, but when I get to the nearest tree, I see that Sydney is on the ground and Boston is standing shocked near him. Eric is standing where he was without looking the slightest bit concerned. Randy shoots at Boston, and I see him dive to the side, crying out in pain. Randy fires two more shots toward Boston as he tumbles away into the forest. Now’s my only chance!
I run up the hill slipping on the pine needles and grab Eric.
“Unh,” he says as I tug him away toward the forest.
But it’s not fast enough. Not nearly fast enough. Randy turns back toward us and his horse teeth grins at me widely. Raising his weapon toward me, his face shines with elation.
Suddenly Randy is shoved violently to the side and goes crashing down into the forest.
“Go!” yells Pest, standing where Randy had been a second before. “Run Birdie!”
I want to tell him to follow, I want to tell him thank you, but there’s no time for that. I grab Eric and pull him toward the forest.
“Unh!” Eric groans.
We stumble into the forest as best we can. We haven’t gone more than half dozen steps when I hear shots behind us. My heart drops. There’s no way I can outrun Randy with Eric, and there’s no way I can leave him. This is it. This is really it.
Then I hear something. Eric hears it too.
“Unh!” he moans and begins to dart through the forest.
The sound of water!
159
At his breakneck pace, it’s hard to keep Eric from crashing into trees, but at least he’s running. I have to tug him to guide him, weaving him through the trees as he bolts as fast as his legs can carry him toward the sound of the river. When I dare, I look back over my shoulder. I see Randy running after us, too far behind to shoot through the trees, but not so far away that if Eric hits a tree and we fall, Randy won’t shoot us both where we land.
“Birdie!” Randy cries out. “I’m going to shoot Eric first! I’m going to kill him first so you can watch! You hear me?”
Yeah, I can hear you, you goddamn, murdering, traitorous, donkey-toothed son of bitch!
But I’ve got no time to think of that or to feel my rage. I have to guide Eric’s headfirst plunge through the forest. Eric’s only has his thundering, consuming thirst for water to guide him, and he’s running forward with all his will and considerable strength. It’s everything I can do to keep up with him, to shove him from one side or the other to keep him from smashing face-first into a pine tree and ending both of our lives. I’ve got no plan beyond just running.
That becomes obvious when we suddenly reach the bank of the river, and Eric just goes hurtling over the bank. I follow him into the water, hoping that it will carry us downstream, far away from Randy. But I’m not that lucky. Not this time.
The water is deep and cold and hardly moving at all. I realize immediately that now I have another problem. If I don’t get Eric to the shore, he’ll drown, drinking himself to death. I lunge through the dark water, reaching out for him. I feel him suddenly, his jacket maybe, or his pants, and, clutching at it, I pull him toward the shore. I’m hoping it’s the opposite shore, but as my head breaks free of the water, I'm greeted by a familiar, odious face.
Randy grabs my hair and drags me out of the water. He viciously kicks my grip on Eric free.
“No!” I scream, struggling to get to Eric, who’s slowly rotating in the water, face down.
I feel the cold circle of a gun muzzle pressed against the back of my neck.
“Keep struggling, you dumb bitch,” Randy hisses.
Sobbing and trembling, I stop struggling. Randy yanks me painfully to my feet with my hair. He grips me from behind, keeping my head pointed toward Eric.
“I told you I’d make you watch,” he spits into my ear.
I refuse to cry, but I feel tears run down my face. Eric slowly spins in the dark water, making no movement at all. All of this for nothing. All of it, for nothing. I sink senselessly to my knees in the river. The water is all around me. I hear Randy chuckle and move to stand in front of me. I know he’s pointing his gun at me. I know he’s smiling with those shining teeth of his. But I don’t care, not anymore. Just let him shoot. Let it be over.
“Look at me,” Randy says. I don’t. “Look at me!” he cries again. But I don’t. I don’t care what happens. I don’t care what he does. It’s all been for nothing.
“Just shoot me,” I tell him. “Stop talking and shoot.”
I feel my head snapped back as he claws at my hair. “You listen to me,” he hisses. “You think it can’t get any worse for you? You look at me or I swear to God I’ll keep you dying for a week.”
Reluctantly I open my eyes. For a second all I can see is Randy’s jacket, and then he strides through the cold water and turns back toward me. Grinning as malevolent as a troll, he points his gun at my forehead. Behind him, Eric’s body rotates silently in the water. I have no feeling left. Not even fear. Just a fatigue so profound, heavy as a thousand dark worlds, that I am looking forward to his bullet, looking forward to the endless rest and the comforting darkness. I don’t have anything left in me. It’s over.