Dead River, page 25
“Toss the keys out and we’ll drive away.” The wigger said. “It’s that simple.”
“If you want the keys so bad,” She said. “come and get ‘em.”
A gunshot exploded across the store and echoed off the walls. Rosie flinched inside of the sling and, kicking her legs out from her sides, gave a high-pitched cry. Teresa flinched as Colin and Dominic reached over and clutched onto the crown of her left shoulder, their bodies stiff with fear.
Pixie stood beside the display window, a lone tear sliding down her right cheek. She cupped the pearl-handled .22 inside of her tight pale fist and aimed it in Colin’s face. Jason glanced out between the two shelves across from the front of the store, his face beaming with both shock and humiliation.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Colin said.
“Drop the gun.”
“You little bitch.” Teresa said.
Pixie turned the gun away from them and lowered it down from her right side. Jason glanced up at the barrel, tightened his grip on Rosie’s lower back and squeezed.
“Drop the gun!”
Colin shook his head and sighed.
Pixie said. “They’re going to get in here and they’re gonna kill you. They know what you did to Malik and they’re not happy about and neither do I. If you give me–”
“I told you before I didn’t mean to kill Malik.”
She tapped her right thumb against her chest. “You never liked him but I loved him. You killed him and now we’re going to kill you. If you give me the keys, they’ll make it easy on you.”
“Easy is something you’re obviously good at.” Teresa said.
“I’d rather be a crack whore than some Latino bitch with a fake badge.”
“What are you doing?” Jason said. “I thought you were my friend.”
Pixie cast a fake smile at him. “My real friends are outside of this store. And now that we had the perfect opportunity, all I had to do was pretend to give a shit and then wait for my opportunity to take you down and steal the boat out from underneath you.”
Colin took a few seconds to put it together and foolish for not paying attention. With everything else that’d happen in the past six hours, how could he?
She’d been flirting with him back at the shoe store in the arena to stall for time until they’d arrived. He remembered seeing her glancing out the second story window at the frat house and scratching at the bridge of her nose with her left thumbnail before they left.
“How did they track us?” Colin said.
Pixie took her left hand off the gun and slipped the tiny black bead from her left earlobe. She pinched it between the thumb and forefinger of her left hand until it gave a rapid-fire beeping sound and dropped it onto the floor. A tiny red light blinked from the top of the tiny black earring.
Colin and Teresa sighed, their shoulders slumped over in defeat.
“Don’t be so surprised.” She said. “Once a coke whore, always a coke whore.”
An uncomfortable silence filled the shop. Outside, the Jeep’s engine had gone from a loud roar to a low growl. Teresa caught something in the corner of her left eye and glanced down the sleek curves of Colin’s ass. He saw her looking and stared back at her, his face creased with confusion.
“Don’t move.” Teresa said.
She reached across the seat of his pants with her left arm and slipped her hand into his right back pocket. She slid her hand back out and raised it in mid-air. She held a tiny black dot between her thumb and forefinger; a tiny red light flickered across his face.
“This is some state of the art shit.” Pixie said. “Isn’t it?”
Another image flashed through Colin’s mind. The moment when she’d hugged him outside the bathroom, her crocodile tears leaking down her eyes just long enough for her to reach her hand around and drop the tracking bug into his pocket.
“We had to have a little insurance just in case.” She said. “If you just hand over the keys, we can all leave here in a nice—”
A massive broad-shouldered shadow rose, blotting out the carpet of light pouring across the lobby; a loud honking sound blared across the parking lot and vibrated against the store front windows. Shafts of bright halogen light pierced through the front windows, glinting along the top of the Pixie’s pistol.
Colin lunged across the room, slapped Pixie’s right arm away and hugged the kids in both arms. Teresa kicked Pixie hard in the chest as Dominic ran past the first cash register and took off toward the opposite end of the room toward the rank of car batteries.
The Jeep crashed through the front of the store, spraying a mist of shattered glass and dark plastic across the floor. Colin sucked a large cloud of hot air deep into his lungs, held it and carried the kids off behind a nearby shelf facing the unisex bathrooms sitting on the far right corner. Amongst the loud clatter of debris, a loud panicked yelp burst across the store.
The crashing ceased. A plume of hot putrid air burst across the open window and spun a mixed wave of motor oil, copper and burnt rubber across the store. Colin stood in a half-crouch, his right fist still gripping the Magnum, and peered over the top of the shelf. The cloud of thick white dust dissipated, exposing a blood splattered parking lot framed by a shattered window riddled with sporadic shards of broken glass.
A chunk of concrete sat under the two passenger side tires, perching against the counter it at an obtuse angle; a river of neon green liquid pooled out from under the driver side tires and dripped down the front of the counter. The front windshield was now pocked with larger jagged cracks as a coat of dust left a light gray smudge across the hood. Mateo’s lifeless corpse sat behind the wheel with the back of his head resting atop the headrest; his almond-shaped eyes peered up toward the ceiling and his mouth hung open on unhinged jaws.
He clamped a hand over his mouth to ward off any toxic fumes and felt his heart give a slight twitch. Pixie was lying backward, her body pinned between the Jeep’s front grille and the front counter like a frog on a dissection tray; her arms and legs were slumped over the sides, her eyes and face slumped into a frozen mask of horror. A puddle of brass-yellow liquid dripped down from the bottom of her skirt, soaking her pink fishnets and mingling with the pool of fluid still spreading under the Jeep.
A clattering sound rose from the other side of the Jeep. Bullet-Head emerged from the half-dissipated mist and scanned the lobby before finding Colin and the kids huddled together on the far right corner of the store. Colin whispered something to Jason that sent the little boy scuttling across the store and into the nearest bathroom; Rosie peered over her brother’s right shoulder just as Bullet-Head leveled the AK at Colin.
“You’re mine, mudderfudder.” He said.
Colin snatched a breath and ducked as a barrage of bullets struck the shelf in front of him, sending pre-packaged items flying across the room. A stray bullet struck the side of a can of Fix-A-Flat that gave a snake-like hiss and spun around, spraying a stream of thick white liquid across the air. More bottles and cans burst open, spewing more chemicals into the air and across the room.
He whispered something in Jason’s ear and pointed toward the large alcove in the far right corner of the room where the unisex bathrooms were located. He duck-walked to the right side of the shelf, thumbed back the hammer on the Magnum and waited.
Bullet-Head made one final sweep with the AK when it clicked empty. Colin peered over the top of the shelf and raised the Magnum at eye level. He jerked desperately on the AK’s metallic slide, slapped the edge of his right hand against the side of the barrel and cursed under his breath.
Teresa raised her Glock and squeezed the trigger three times in rapid succession. Three large bullet holes tore through his chest and spread outward like bright-pink flower petals, spraying sporadic bibs of blood across the front of his tee-shirt. He flung back and hit the wall as the AK fell from his hands and clattered across the floor behind him.
She scowled under her breath, nodded at Colin and replaced the empty clip with a fresh one. He returned the nod when he noticed the look of relief on her face contort into a mask of bug-eyed horror. Before he could look around to see what it was, something dashed across the aisle at him and collided with his right hip.
He struck the gritty white floor with such tremendous force the air burst from his lungs like a deflated balloon. His spine gave a loud crunch when he struck the floor, sending spikes of white hot pain across his body and down his legs; the Magnum slipped out of his hand and slid across the floor out of reach. When he glanced over to see who it was, the dreadlocks were a dead giveaway.
The wigger clenched the front of Colin’s shirt, pinned him to the floor and snapped a large left hook across his chin. Colin’s head bounced off the floor, throwing tiny pinpricks of light across his eyes and blind-hot pain across the back of his skull. He pulled him off the floor by the front of his tee-shirt, reared his left arm back across his chest and slapped him across the face, spraying a stream of blood from the bottom right hand corner of Colin’s lopsided mouth.
Colin snapped out of his daze just as the wigger threw a second fist at him. He blocked the wigger’s arm with the edge of his right hand and rammed the crown of his forehead against the bridge of his nose. The impact sent him flying onto his back and onto the floor with a loud arthritic crunch; blood pumped from his nose and dripped down the front of his tee-shirt.
He leaped across the room and slammed every ounce of his two-hundred and fifty-five pounds onto his stomach. The wigger winced as Colin clutched the front of his tee-shirt in his hand, his lips throbbing with pain. Colin snapped a series of left and right jabs across the wigger’s face, whipping his head back and forth before bunching his fists together and bringing them straight down onto the wigger’s chest.
Colin snapped a right hook across right side of his chin and glanced over at a puddle of motor oil pouring down the face of a nearby shelf. He wrapped his right hand around the wigger’s throat and snatched a bright green plastic bottle sitting headless on a nearby shelf. The words PARKER OIL were stamped across a large white label in black capital letters.
Colin drove the edge of his left hand hard against the tip of the wigger’s chin and snatched the bottle of motor oil off the shelf. Before the wigger could shrug off the pain flaring across his face, Colin jammed the open bottle past his bulbous-pink lips and squeezed it. The bottle burped and flexed as a river of crude black liquid oozed down the wigger’s throat.
The wigger’s eyes widened as he kicked and squirmed. Colin flung himself off and crawled backward on his hands and feet, his heart thudding against his chest. Jason crept out from the alcove between the bathrooms and stood beside of Teresa, watching with wide-eyed interest.
The wigger gargled and cradled his stomach with both arms and winced. Tears streamed down his face as a river of pinkish-white froth spewed from his lips, dribbled down the tip of his chin and down the front of his shirt. A river of brownish yellow liquid spilled out from his pants legs and pooled across the floor under his boots as the wigger slumped over.
Teresa raced across the aisle, slipped her arm through the crook of Colin’s right arm and eased him back. Dominic hurried over.
“Are you okay?” Jason said.
Rosie gurgled as if to say, “of course he is”.
“I’d rather get eaten by those things out there then die like that.” Dominic said.
“I’m sure a lot of people would beg to differ.” Teresa said.
She lifted his shirt and noticed a large bluish-purple bruise spreading across his left hip. She gazed into his big green eyes. He glanced back, his hands trembling as if he were fighting the urge to do something he’d never done for a long time.
They peered toward the front of the store and cast a long confused stare across the room. The Jeep’s front grille pinned Pixie to the front counter, leaving her splayed out like a bug on a windshield.
“It’s not your fault, man.” Colin said.
Rosie let off a loud cooing sound, followed by a thin pink smile.
“I know.”
Colin strode into one of the aisles behind the front counter, stepped out of another and then back into another. When he emerged from the back room, he waggled a tiny red box in his hand and stuffed it into his pocket.
“Anybody want to go to Texas?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
AFTER Teresa threw Mateo out of the passenger seat, she climbed into the Jeep and backed away from the front counter, crunching over broken glass and bits of black plastic. Pixie’s body slumped over and fell face down on the floor. When she hit the floor, her stomach burst open like a piñata, spilling bright pink zombie candy onto the floor; a pool of blood spread out beneath her.
Colin hurried over to the driver-side door when Teresa raised both hands in the air. He paused and stared at her, his face etched in confusion. Dominic sat behind Teresa and the kids sat behind Colin. Jason clipped on his seat belt and pulled the blanket high up and over Rosie’s face to protect her from the breeze and flying insects.
“I think they’d prefer if I drove this time.”
Dominic and Jason nodded. Rosie gurgled.
He shrugged, ran around the front of the Jeep and hopped into the passenger seat. She backed the Jeep a little further and drove out onto the parking lot. A horde of zombies emerged from the tangle of pine trees behind them and shambled toward the front of the store, lured by the tantalizing scent of three new bodies.
Teresa steered the Jeep out of the parking lot and took a left. She sped past an empty bistro café with an outside patio surrounded by a black-iron railing and kept her eyes on the road. A trio of zombies who looked to be no younger than ten knelt down in the parking lot, devouring chunks of wet red flesh from the corpse of an old man with long white hair and a matching beard.
She’d seen enough bloodshed to last her a lifetime.
She took a left onto a side street flanked by two rows of contemporary homes sitting on scruffy faded green lawns. She took a right and sped down a small curve across a cement bridge, passing one exhibit of carnage after the other. More deserted vehicles sitting on flat tires with blistered paint jobs and broken windows; the dead that were too dead to be reanimated were strewn along the street like the contents of an overturned toy box, their faces twisted and frozen with horror.
The stench stirred a wave of nausea in Colin’s stomach but he showed no effect. Over the past five months, he’d grown accustomed to that noxious stench. He’d even used it many times to discern the difference between a safe place or a dangerous place; when it came to survival you rolled the dice and took risks but there were times when you didn’t need to roll snake-eyes for your luck to run out.
They reached a four-way intersection clogged with more post-apocalyptic disarray and felt the wind buffeting around them. A brand-name gas station sat on their left under a tall, jagged cliff, choked with more discarded vehicles and uncomfortable silences. A local construction company sat on the far left like a mirage in the unwavering heat; sunlight glinted off their yellow equipment.
She took a right onto a stretch of country road across a strip of train tracks; a large blood stain coated the right-side barrier and dripped onto the pavement. A current of happiness washed over Colin as the town of Milton Ridge shrank in the reflection of the rearview mirror, resembling a tiny green fist dotted with tiny white knuckles. She followed a stretch of meandering gray road through vast strips of dull farmland and dense green forests that jabbed at the sky.
They spotted a large white cow with black spots was slumped across a three-tier barb wire fence, its soft pink tongue lolling out from its mouth as its big black eyes bored a frozen death glaze. Teresa wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her right hand and looked away, placing her eyes back onto the road.
She steered the Jeep through a winding stretch of road flanked on the right by a pair of aluminum-sided trailers and a wide-open meadow on the left. She avoided the next turn and veered onto a two-sided gravel road that cut a straight swath through a pair of faded-green hills.
The tires rolled over loose gravel and leaped over dry ruts. They followed the road into another encroaching forest that spread only half as much shade as the last one. A mixed and repulsive stench of sunbaked roadkill and dead flesh rode on the breeze, wafted across the Jeep and stung their nostrils.
Rosie responded to the smell with a loud protesting gurgle. Dominic leaned forward in his seat, scowled and slid his front collar up and over his face to ward off the smell.
“I can’t wait to get away from that stench.”
“I don’t think there’s any of this over there in Abilene.” Colin said.
Teresa glanced over at Dominic. “What are you going to ask for when you get there?”
“A double bacon cheeseburger.” He said. “and a bucket of cheese fries.”
They chuckled. Colin chuckled and snuck a glance at Teresa from the corner of his left eye.
“What about you?”
“Four walls and a bed.” Colin said. “A beer wouldn’t be bad, either.”
The heat brimming between them rose to an all-time high they couldn’t (or wouldn’t) divulge in front of the others. There was plenty of time for that.
“You?”
“The bed thing isn’t a bad idea.” She said. “I’ll trade the beer for a bottle of Jose Cuervo.”
Jason whooped and clapped as if someone caught the game-winning touchdown. She shook her head and fixed her gaze back onto the road.
“Are you okay?” Dominic said.
“I can’t wait to see my parents.” Jason said.
His words seem to suck the joy out of the conversation, but no one said anything. They nodded. When it all came down to it, Fort Gavin was full of promise but nothing was better than having your family around.
When they exited the shady forest, the sunlight burst through the clouds.
“Did you fuck her—”
The voice riding on the breeze wafting around his head snapped him out of his trance. No matter how hard he tried, he’d never purge it from the deepest recesses of his memory. It’d cling to him like an invisible but putrid gunk that, like most voices of the past, was meant to follow him for the rest of his life.
