They all protested that they’d been hurt some other way but no one stopped us as we did what needed to be done. One man with a tiny scratch had taken out nearly a third of our population in minutes and if this many people with wounds were allowed to live then we’d all be dead within the hour. Washington had glassy eyes and shaking hands but he didn’t protest as we did what needed doing.
After we’d culled the herd I looked around the room – the slaughterhouse – and then looked at Wash. “I can’t help anymore. I’m bone-tired and need to sit down before I pass out. Can you have your men stack these bodies somewhere out of sight?” I waved my hands at the crying, moaning people around us. “They’ll riot soon if they have to keep staring at their dead loved ones. And they’ll want payback.”
He nodded wordlessly and turned to take off.
I stopped him with a word but he didn’t turn back to face me. Just stopped in his tracks, head cocked to the side to listen to me. “Wash. Don’t let them touch the blood. I have no idea if the blood is infectious or not but there’s no reason to take any chances.”
He didn’t acknowledge me, but I heard him barking orders at what few of his men were left as I turned to Fannie Mae. I don’t know what happened but the next thing I knew I was laying on the floor with my head in her lap. The shotgun lay at my side.
“What happened?” I asked, struggling to sit up. My head was pounding and I winced, putting my hand on my forehead.
She gently forced me to lie back down. I finally accepted it and looked up at her from her lap. “You passed out,” she replied. “You looked exhausted, Dukey. I was scared. You were pale and there were circles under your eyes. I had to fight off some of the men. They wanted to drag you out and shoot you, thinking you were one of the them.” She shuddered and closed her eyes for a second. “But I wouldn’t let them. And then Washington intervened and threatened to shoot them all if they didn’t back off. He convinced them that you weren’t infected.” She laughed. “It helped that you started snoring.”
I blushed. “I don’t snore.”
“Maybe not, but you were definitely sawing logs there for a little while.”
I finally convinced her to let me sit up and then I put my arm around her. We cuddled up close as we looked at the motley group of fools huddled around the room. Paranoia had swept in and now people only sat by twos and threes, with the few people they trusted. There were blood splatters everywhere (as well as splatters of other things) but I didn’t see any bodies lying on the floor.
I stretched my muscles, wincing as my back popped. “Where’d Wash put the zombies?”
“The basement,” she said softly. “He and a few of his men stacked them up on the floor down there. They were just going to throw them down the stairs and then seal the door but the people were getting upset by that idea. So they lugged them all down there. I’m surprised none of them passed out from exhaustion, too. Washington promised them all that the people who’d been turned would get a real burial when this is all over.”
I snorted.
She looked at me. “Do you think this will ever be over, Dukey?”
I looked at her and wished I had it in me to lie, but I couldn’t lie to those eyes. “No, Fannie Mae. I don’t. I don’t see how this could ever be over. We’d have to kill every zombie without anyone else getting infected and I don’t see how that’s even possible. Even assuming we could get a group of people together and go out hunting how could we be sure that we got them all?”
Washington walked down the hallway from the kitchen into the main room. He paused and wiped a hand on his brow. I could see the hand shaking even from here. He was on the verge of breaking down. How can you lead the people when the people don’t want to be led? And when the people keep trying to get up and eat you?
He caught me looking at him and nodded, visibly straightened himself and came the rest of the way into the room. He started going round to his men at the windows.
I finished my thought to Fannie Mae. “All it would take is for one to get away for this to start all over again. For all we know they’ve already spread out through the town and the town is nothing but the zombie horde Barrett kept predicting we’d have. We may be the only people alive within a hundred miles of here.”
She shook her head. “I can’t believe that, Dukey. I refuse to believe this has gone that far.” Unshed tears glistened in her eyes. “I have to believe that we’ve got some chance to get out of this alive. Now that we’ve found each other I can’t stand the thought of not having you in my life.”
I drew her in tighter to my embrace. “I’m sorry, Fannie Mae. You’re right. We still have a chance.”
I eyed Washington as Fannie Mae drifted off to sleep next to me. It was 1am on Saturday night/Sunday morning. Where had the day gone? I wanted to sleep some more, too, but I didn’t trust anyone in this room enough to have both Fannie Mae and I asleep at the same time. I’d seen quite a few jealous glances at my shotgun (how many shells did I have left anyway?) and not a few looks at me that were filled with anger and shame. They were afraid of me for what I’d done and ashamed that they couldn’t do it themselves.
But I did drift. I’d like to say I was able to keep myself awake and protect Fannie Mae the way she’d done me, but I failed. Only minutes after saying I’d stay awake I was completely off in snoozeville. Confused images of zombies slaughtering people and people slaughtering zombies filled my dreams. Nothing coherent, just image after image. I probably would have slept the night away if I hadn’t felt a tugging on my hand. In my dream it felt like a zombie was pulling on me.
I jolted awake. There was a man standing in front of me, a thoughtful expression on his face. He was white, pasty, somewhat out of shape like a football player gone to seed, balding with little tufts of hair sticking out the sides of his head. And he was tugging gently on the shotgun cradled in my lap. If I hadn’t had a grip on it he would have already had it.
My hand tightened on the stock and I jerked it back. He didn’t let go of his grip on the barrel.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He licked his lips and stared at me. He didn’t answer me as he kept tugging on the shotgun. I pulled my arm from around Fannie Mae and got a better grip on the gun. He wouldn’t let go of the freaking gun. The jostling woke Fannie Mae and she rubbed her eyes as she looked at the both of us.
There were several people behind the unnamed man who were watching eagerly. “That’s it, get the gun, John. He’s just a kid. Make him give it to you.”
I shoved forward with my hands, using the shotgun as a lever to push him off balance. It worked a little bit but he kept coming back like a little terrier. Fannie Mae scrambled to her feet next to me and pushed at the guy, using her fists to punch him in the chest to get him to let go. She landed a vicious punch to his gut and he grunted, making the first sound I’d heard from him. He finally let go of the gun and slapped her hard in the face.