Chapter Seven

Life and Death

They returned to the beach.

Luckily there were still no zombies roaming around. All of them in the vicinity probably followed Dane’s storm troopers into the woods.

Courtney and Leon opened the rear hatch of the remaining humvee to obtain the supplies stashed there. It had been her humvee—the very same one she had used to go from Georgia to Rhode Island. However, this fact wasn’t what was foremost on her mind at the moment.

As she tended to the wound on Leon’s shoulder, she explained all the things that had happened to her after the ambush in the casino. Leon took several minutes to contemplate what she told him, then commented, “So this psycho put metal choppers on the zombies’ teeth?”

She replied, “Among other things.”

Leon shook his head and rolled his eyes.

Courtney finished cleaning and bandaging the bite wound on his shoulder, then grabbed a roll of duct tape from the back of the humvee and began patching the tear on his wetsuit.

She was sniffling the entire time.

It was growing late in the day now. She guessed it to be about five o’clock or so. The sun was still high in the sky and the sea gulls were still swarming around the cruiseliner nearby. It was actually quite a beautiful setting, it was just too bad that circumstances didn’t allow Courtney to enjoy it.

After applying the last patch of duct tape, she patted Leon on the back and said, “All done.” She then grabbed a canteen from the cooler in the back of the humvee and took another swig of cold water. It was somewhat refreshing.

Leon peered over his shoulder as best he could to inspect the first aid work Courtney had performed. His face was pale and his lips were turning white.

After a moment he whispered, “I appreciate you playing Betsy Ross, but—”

“—Betsy Ross created the flag,” Courtney interrupted. “You’re probably thinking of Clara Barton. She founded the American Red Cross.”

“Whatever,” Leon said. “All I’m saying is that we both know it’s a waste of time. We’ve been through this routine before.”

Courtney snapped, “Just shut up, okay?”

She handed him the canteen and let him take a drink while she crossed her arms and stared off at the ocean. She had forgotten the smells and sounds of the beach. It reminded her of Florida. She wished she wouldn’t have taken it all for granted when the world was normal.

After Leon capped the canteen and returned it to the back of the humvee, he motioned to her left hand and asked, “Want me to help you with that?”

Courtney gazed down at her pinky finger. It was looking even more grotesque now. Puss was seeping from the blister and the skin around it was black and peeling. However, since finding out Leon was still alive, this was the first time she noticed how much her hand trembled on its own.

She asked, “What do we have?”

He paused a moment to think, and replied, “There’s Neosporin in the first aid kit. Should be cold wraps too.”

She nodded and said, “All right.”

Leon leaned inside the humvee and retrieved the first aid kit she had used to clean his bite wound. He fished out the Neosporin and the cold wraps.

He said, “Okay doll, give me the finger. And I don’t mean that in a vulgar way.”

She forced a smile, then turned her head away long enough to sniffle and wipe her eyes just in case emotions were getting the best of her. Then she turned to face Leon again and extended her scorched pinky finger.

He squeezed some Neosporin out of the tube and onto his index finger, then dabbed the cream lightly on Courtney’s pinky. When he had it covered he tore off a piece of cold wrap and put it over her finger, making certain the adhesive was sticking only to the healthy skin near her bottom knuckle and not on anything tender. Finished, he returned the unused supplies to the first aid kit and put the box back in the humvee.

She inspected the bandage on her finger, realizing the skin would be scarred forever. After a moment she softly stated, “This sucks. My finger’s gonna be deformed for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe, but it’s just your finger,” Leon replied, taking her hand and examining it. “The rest of you will still be beautiful.”

She grunted and pulled her hand away. She stammered, “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t flirt with me. Not now.”

“Not now? Why?”

She turned away and faced the ocean again. She mumbled, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything.”

Leon exhaled deeply and leaned against the fender of the humvee.

Courtney watched the sea gulls for a while as they went about their routine, all of them oblivious to the happenings in the human world. Her body trembled as she thought about Eastpointe and the army of zombies marching there to attack it. If Dane used a pipe bomb to blow up the wall as he mentioned—and if he did so where patrols where few and far between—then it was quite possible everyone in Eastpointe would be devoured before they even figured out what the explosion was.

The worst part was that she knew she could never make it to Eastpointe in time to warn them. Dane would be taking his army via the most direct route, so even if she somehow got past them or went around them and beat them to their destination, she knew precious moments would be wasted trying to explain to the Superintendent and the Committees about the danger headed their way. It would be hard to convince them she was serious, that this wasn’t a joke, and that Dr. Aaron Dane had really assembled his own undead army and was currently leading them to conquer the last bastion of living humans.

Courtney gritted her teeth and smacked her palm against the side of the humvee. Too many thoughts were going through her mind to allow her to stop and focus on any of them.

She remembered Dane mentioning a pack leader and that zombies worked in a pack mentality when there wasn’t any food nearby. She knew the handbox Dane used somehow sent signals to the zombies, but what if it only sent signals to one zombie? That sounded right. Dane would only need to send signals to the pack leader and the rest would follow. Not only that, but other zombies the army met would also fall in line and follow the pack. Courtney realized that could add up to at least a thousand if Dane led his army through Wakefield.

There may be even more. If zombies just lying around somewhere somehow sensed that a large herd was moving, they may get up and follow even if it was from miles away. She wasn’t totally sure how far away a zombie’s senses could work, but she knew she had to factor it into her reasoning.

She turned to face Leon again.

He had his head down and his arms crossed. He didn’t look very healthy at all. She knew it would only be a couple of hours before he got too sick to move. He would be coughing and vomiting and then several hours after that he would be comatose. He would then die and reanimate.

However, a Black Beret never got that far. Usually they swallowed their barbiturates long before now. Leon was setting some kind of record.

She said, “Everyone at Eastpointe is going to die unless we stop Dane before he gets there.”

Leon lifted his head and gazed at her. He replied, “We?”

She nodded, pulling her hair back and tucking it behind her ears. She explained, “Yeah. If we can take out the lead zombie and then take out Dane before he creates a new leader, the zombies will just stop marching and lay down. They won’t migrate unless they’re being led. We don’t have to fight them all. We just have to kill Dane and the pack leader. We can do it.”

Leon shook his head side-to-side and weakly stated, “I’m sorry, doll. But this beach is really nice. I think I’m just going to lay down and take my pills.”

“No,” she said. “I need you. I can’t do this alone.”

Leon sighed and looked away, appearing to stare at the reflection of the sun on the calm ocean waves. He kicked at the sand at his feet. “I think I understand why Black Berets take their pills so quick after being infected,” he said. “It’s because they know the inevitability of death. They want to die before that fact really hits home. That’s what I want too. I don’t want to sit here and cry. I don’t want to be depressed about it. I want to keep my pride and die quietly. If you were me, you’d understand.”

Courtney stepped in front of him and looked into his eyes. She softly said, “Leon, I need you. We have to do this together or everyone’s gonna die.”

“What do you care?!” he snapped. “Since when do you give a damn about anybody at Eastpointe?!”

“Of course I care,” she stuttered. “What, do you think I’m totally heartless or something?”

“You live in your own world anyway,” he continued, glaring. “Why don’t you just find a nice little island someplace where you can be alone for real? Swim to Martha’s Vineyard or Block Island for Christ’s sake. Clear out a house and spend the rest of your life dreaming about James Spader. What the hell do you want from me?!”

Without hesitation or anger, Courtney replied, “Your help.”

“But what can I do? I already feel this gross stuff building up in my lungs and I’m gonna start hacking and coughing like an eighty year-old smoker. I’m not going to be much help. Just let me die.”

Courtney crossed her arms and told him, “I’m not exactly stopping you. What you mean is that you need me to put a bullet in your head after your heart stops.”

Leon nodded.

“Well, fine,” Courtney said. “Help me kill Dane and I’ll make sure you don’t reanimate after you swallow your pills. Fair?”

Leon sighed and shrugged his shoulders. A throbbing red vein was visible beneath the pale skin on his forehead. The color in his blue eyes was fading a little. His hair was falling messily across his ears and one of his eyes and altogether he looked very weary.

He said, “Fine. Let’s kill that psycho.”

Courtney looked away and sniffled, then replied, “Glad you’re with me.”

Leon started digging through the supplies in the back of the humvee. He said, “No more visors or berets, doll. We’ve got another sword and a couple rifles here, but not much ammo. There are a couple Socoms, but they’re not assembled. I’ll have to attach the laser sights and load up some magazines. I’m pretty sure they’re in a box back here somewhere.” He paused a moment as he reached deep to retrieve something buried under the cooler, then added, “And here’s another belt for you.”

She took the belt and fastened it around her hips, taking the time to secure the lower holster strap around her right leg. She took another wakizashi and scabbard but held on to it for now instead of fastening it to her belt right away.

She said, “Let’s get moving.”

Leon grabbed a couple of handguns and laser sights, along with a couple of rifles and scopes and a box of ammunition for both. He walked around the humvee and climbed onto the passenger seat. He immediately started attaching the laser sights to the handguns and loading bullets into magazines.

Courtney walked around to the driver’s-side door, but stopped halfway. She leaned with her back against the humvee, then lowered her head and closed her eyes.

It was hard not to be overwhelmed.

She sniffled and wiped her eyes—just in case there was any emotional residue—then opened the driver’s-side door and climbed onto the seat.

She held her breath as she turned the ignition, thinking that Dane might have taken the time to somehow booby-trap it or something. Despite her fears, the engine started without a hitch. She shifted into gear, let out the clutch, and the humvee sped forward down the sandy beach.

As the tires met the gravel on the road leading through the forest, Leon looked up from the magazines he was loading and commented, “Do you ever miss fiddling with the radio?”

She turned her head long enough to glance at him, then faced the road again. She asked, “What do you mean?”

“It’s just that every time I ride shotgun I’m still in the habit of wanting to cycle through the radio stations. Kind of stupid, huh?”

She shook her head and stated, “No, it’s not stupid.”