I carefully turned myself around so that I was oriented towards him and mostly crab-walked up to the top. What greeted me was a sight that should greet no one. John was standing there naked, a pool of his discarded clothes at his feet.
“A warning would have been nice,” I told him when I got to him.
Where he stood there was about a seven foot diameter circle that was completely flat. A small hatch with a spinning wheel handle like you see in subs was standing open. An even skinnier ladder led down into the murky blackness of the water holding tank.
“You’re going down there?” I asked, trying to peer down.
“Hell yeah! Even going to take a bath.”
“I’m sure the residents of Amissus will be super appreciative of that, probably going to be giving out contact highs for the next week as they drink and bathe in that water.”
John laughed. “What can I say? I like to spread my joy around!”
He grabbed the ladder and began his descent.
“You sure about this?” I asked as he began to disappear.
His echoed voice rang out in response, “Water’s cold!”
He splashed down there for half an hour at least. I sat down, even thought about dozing. My head kept bobbing off to the side and would jolt me awake. I was awoken to have John standing in front of me, soaking wet, the only small miracle I was thankful for was that the sun was shining brightly between his legs and blotted out his nether region.
“Want some?” John asked, handing me a Phrito bag overflowing with water.
I drank it down greedily. I even have to admit that the slightly salty taste mixed in with the water was heavenly. He handed me another one when I finished. I thought better of asking him how he carried them up, some things were best left unsaid. John grabbed his clothes and began to stroll back down the roof.
“See you down there,” he told me.
I basked a little longer in the sun, thought momentarily about going down into the tank and then decided against it when I would have had to get by at least three phobia’s. By the time I had meandered back down onto the ledge, John had his clothes under him and was sun bathing.
“Again with the nude thing?” I asked him.
He smiled and gave me a thumbs-up.
I did a once around the perimeter, expecting a howler to pull out from the shadows at almost every turn. But they were gone, both living and dead, they were gone. They’d be back if we stayed, and I wasn’t prepared for another night up here, both mentally or physically. It was with that thought I headed back to John and was about to tell him that we needed to come up with a plan to get past the zombies below.
Then we heard shots.
John sat up. I looked over the railing searching for the source. I hadn’t heard any other humans since the first couple, and that hadn’t ended so well for them.
“I see something,” John said, standing next to me, his wet thigh up against mine.
“Do you mind?”
“Not at all, man.”
“Good to know,” I told him, but he was right. Where he was pointing a man was running in our general direction.
“What’s the fool doing?” I asked. He was heading right into a trap. “Oh,” I said a moment later when I spotted what he was running from. “Son of bitch, we’re going to have a lot more zombies soon.”
He was closing fast, almost unnaturally so, and still he was losing ground. He wasn’t going to make it, not if he had to fight his way through our modest horde. I had a great distrust of humans: living, undead, dead, living dead, they were all assholes in my book. But this guy needed help, and I at least had to give him the benefit of the doubt.
I yelled to him and started shooting zombies that were beginning to coalesce on him. He looked up quickly to where the shots were coming from and kept advancing. The guy could shoot, that was for sure.
“Nice gun,” I said aloud.
“What?” Trip asked.
“That guy has a nice gun,” I elaborated as I kept aerating zombies.
“Is it a size thing?” Trip asked.
“I didn’t say his gun was bigger, I said it was nicer. Put some damn clothes on or you’re going to scare him away, and if my eyes aren’t lying I think he has grenades.”
“Wonderful! I love grenades!” John said as he went over to his pile of clothing.
Meeting
Jack looked up as he scaled the ladder and saw two faces peering down on him. One of the men looked pale, as if he could throw up at any moment. The thought of being covered in vomit almost made him begin climbing down to take his chances with those below. The other man was a heavily-bearded fellow wearing a shit-eating grin, and looked like he enjoyed the Sixties a little too much.
He had no idea what to make of the two as he continued upward. They had saved him, but what exactly was he climbing into? That really didn’t matter at the moment. The reek and moans of the zombies below didn’t provide for too many options. Although, he hoped the one man could hold onto his lunch until he was off the ladder. As he approached the top, one of the men pulled back out of view. Jack didn’t know what to expect, all he could hope for was that his descent was not down the express lane.
“That’s far enough,” Mike said to Jack, leveling his rifle on Jack’s forehead. “I’d appreciate if you’d put your safety on and keep your hands away from those shiny grenades.”
“I would really love a grenadine,” Trip said, hopping back and forth from foot to foot.
“Easy, man. No worries,” Jack replied, reaching down to the M-4 that was hanging from the sling at his side. “There…better? And I’d appreciate it if you’d aim your weapon somewhere else. I’m not overly fond of a barrel in my face.”
“Sorry, man. It’s been a tough road, and friends and people you can trust have been hard to come by.” Mike lowered his weapon. Jack couldn’t help but notice that the man didn’t shoulder it or throw the safety on. “Who are you?”
“I can certainly understand that. I’m Jack. I don’t blame you for being cautious, but do you mind if I climb the rest of the way up? As much as I’m enjoying hanging out on the ladder, I’d feel better if I could get off it. Oh, and just so you know, I left my last two grenades on the ground below,” Jack answered.
“Can you tell my friend that you don’t have any grenadines?” Mike reached down and helped Jack up onto the parapet. “My name is Mike, and this bearded fellow here goes by John the Tripper or Trip, you’ll figure out why soon enough. Okay, next question. Are you from around here?”
“Grenadines? I’m not sure I even know what those are, and I can therefore assure you that I don’t have any. Nor do I have any pocket gnomes if that helps any. Nice to meet you, Mike,” Jack said, sticking his hand out. “From around here? Um, no. I don’t even know where the fuck here is, other than some mention of ‘Amissus’ or some fuck or the other.”
“Lost.” Trip stated, fumbling for something in his pocket.
“According to my learned friend, Amissus means Lost in Latin. Rich right? We found ourselves deposited in this shit hole two days ago and have been dealing with zombies and howlers ever since,” Mike stated.
Jack edged his hand closer to his M-4 as the man going by John dove into his pockets. He didn’t seem overly stable.
“Want a toke?” Trip asked Mike and Jack, producing a perfectly spun marijuana cigarette.
“I thought I smelled that above the reek of those fuckers below. By the way, thanks and nice shooting,” Jack said, relaxing. Answering John, he said, “No thanks, but it is nice meeting you, John.”
“Glad you’re not the shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later type,” Mike said as he released his empty magazine from its well. “And I could say the same about you, some amazing moves, man.”