He shrugged again. “As many different ways as there are movies. Bullet to the brain or some kind of trauma to the head seems to be pretty common. Usually. I’ve seen movies where they can’t be killed at all, but I refuse to accept that. Anything can be killed. Fire could probably do it.” He thought for a few seconds and then just raised his head. “I guess that’s it.”
“Not much to go on,” I said. “Fire or guns for the safe bet.” I pointed to the bat I’d brought into the room. “Would knocking them in the head with that do it?”
He sighed wearily. “How should I know, Duke? Maybe? If you hit them in the right spot with the right amount of force?” He gestured toward the knife that Fannie Mae had not two inches from her hand. “The knife would probably work, but only from certain angles. The skull is a big piece of bone and you have to destroy the brain. The knife would more likely get stuck and then you’re too close to them and that’s it. All she wrote.”
I laughed. “Okay, then. Either of you happen to have a gun?”
“My dad does,” Barrett said. “In town. Locked up in his gun safe. He takes that key with him, though, and honestly, if I got the hell out of the Acres I wouldn’t be coming back. Sorry, Duke, but that’s the truth.”
I waved that off. “Fannie Mae. Your mom have any guns lying around the house?”
She shook her head. “Nope. She doesn’t believe in them. Sold my dad’s guns after he died.”
Barrett looked at me. “How about you?”
“If we had any guns here mom probably would have taken it to dad a long time ago. Sounds like we’re screwed there.”
Fannie Mae sighed. “Not necessarily.”
Barrett and I both swung our heads to look at her. “How do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, for one, we’re in the middle of Kentucky. You can’t tell me half these trailers here don’t have guns up the wazoo.”
“Granted,” I said. “But we can’t just go knocking on doors asking to borrow a gun to go killing zombies.”
She nodded. “Tamara’s dad has a shotgun.”
I stood up and approached her. “You sure?”
“Yeah. When I was there last night she said that if her dad saw what Mason had done to her that he’d break out the shotgun and blow his nuts off. She seemed pretty serious about it.”
“Crap.” I sat back down.
Barrett caught my eye and we looked at each other for a minute. “If you’re going back over there I’m coming, too.”
“You don’t have to do that, Barrett. I’ll go by myself.”
“Shit on that, Duke Johnson!” Fannie Mae got up from her perch in front of the window and stuck her finger in my chest. “If you’re going, I’m going. We’re a team and no one is going out there by themselves.”
I looked at her, floundering for words. All I could see was her and Barrett in my dream and I wanted to do anything I could to make sure that didn’t happen.
Barrett stepped forward and they both stood in front of me. “We’re all going, Duke. There’s no way around that.”
I sat back down. “Fine. How are we going to get all the way over there without being noticed and get the shotgun out of there and get it back here?”
Barrett sat back down, too. “You worry too much, cahuna. All we have to do is walk over there like we own the place and no one will say anything. They all know we go to school together so no one will think too much of it. Especially if Fannie Mae goes with us.” He thought for a minute, stroking his chin. “You still have your Little League equipment bag?”
“Yeah.”
“Perfect. We can use that to carry the shotgun and baseball bat. And anything else we think we’ll need.”
So in the end I pulled the bag out of the back of my closet and we packed it full of little goodies: my bat (although it was a fierce debate as to whether we should just carry that or not), a bottle of acid, some holy water, hand grenades. Stuff like that. I wish. All we had in there was a bat and the butcher knife. Fannie Mae carried her knife in her sleeve. She wouldn’t be parted from it.
I ended up carrying a lighter and a bottle of lighter fluid that we used to start the grill when we were cooking out. It was a squeeze bottle and it was about half full. It was the closest thing I had to a real weapon.
Hopefully none of it would be necessary. Hopefully the Rogers were still the quiet dead and we could just grab the shotgun and go. And hopefully we’d never have a need for the shotgun at all.
If hopes were wishes maybe we’d all still be alive.
9.
My little army of three set out across the Acres about 7:45 or so in the morning the day after my 16 birthday. We tried to look inconspicuous as we watched all three angles of approach on our position. You could hear that the Acres was finally stirring and waking up. Doors were being slammed and kids could be heard yelling. Only the little kids, of course, the older ones knew enough not to be up at this insane hour.
The trek across the Acres went a little faster than it had a few hours ago, in the dead of night. It was easier to see our way and easier to see if any creatures were coming out to get us. My leg felt a million times better after the soak in the tub and I was actually walking with hardly a limp at all. We ended up in front of Tamara’s trailer in little more than five minutes. Far too soon for my taste.
It just looked dead sitting there.
The empty trailers on both sides looked more alive than the Rogers’ trailer did. Its emptiness stank of death to us. Of course, we knew that death was the only thing awaiting us on the inside but still.
We tried not to look shifty as we approached the front door. The bloody handprint stood out in stark contrast against the whiteness of the door. Barrett whispered, “Oh, fuck,” under his breath and shivered.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said. “You can wait outside and cover our backs.”
He shook his head. “Screw that, cahuna. I told you: I’m in for the count.”
I grasped the doorknob, hoping against hope that it had locked behind us when we ran pell-mell out of here. No such luck, of course. The knob turned easily in my hand. I opened it a couple inches and yelled, “Hello,” into the house.
There was no answer, not that I was expecting any. I think an answer back would have scared me more than anything else. But the main reason behind yelling was to see if I could hear any kind of shuffling or shambling or anything to indicate that I was about to be attacked by Barrett’s horde of zombies. Silence greeted my ears. The silence of the dead.
I wouldn’t let either of the others go first as I entered the trailer. Ambient light filtered in from outside but the sunlight wasn’t strong enough to come in too well so I still had to turn on the flashlight. I hated wasting a hand on it but that was the best I could do. Fannie Mae had her knife out and Barrett brandished the bat like he knew how to use it. I was more afraid of him bashing my skull in than anything else, but any port in a storm I guess.
We did a quick search of the living room and kitchen to see if the shotgun was in there but found nothing. Not that we’d expected it to be that easy. Barrett wanted to go first down the hallway and since he had the bat I let him go at it. I stood in the middle of the line about two feet back from him, shining the light in front, and Fannie Mae brought up the rear. I hoped that her standing back there would at least give her a fighting chance at escape if something happened.