Valley of Death & Zombies Read online

  “I love you Teresa. If I die out here today, I want you to know that.” He felt tears wanting to leak out, wiped his eyes, and looked over his shoulder when a long loud scream seemed to come from right outside the window. Lowering his voice, he continued “Honey if I die don't throw out my golf clubs. I hid a key in there for a safety deposit box I put some money in before we got married. I know I should have told you about it and-” Another scream echoed outside and he turned the phone around. The screen showed he only had nine minutes left to record. “Go see Michael Grimes at First Liberty Savings & Trust Bank. I added your name to the deposit box card last Fall after I almost died in that car wreck. He'll help you get the money out. I love you honey, just remember that.” He blew a kiss at the camera, turned it around and saved the file. He pushed record again and resumed speaking.

  “This is agent Keith Dudley. I was part of the raid at the Albuquerque Springs Trailer Park today. If you're watching this video you probably have some idea how bad it was. Just make sure my wife gets the last message before this one, please.”

  He sat back on the toilet and looked in the camera. “I don't know if anyone else made it but this is my report, probably my last,” he said, grimacing, “on what I saw here today. Agent Crawford went into the trailer first and went left saying I got the hallway. I went right to check the kitchen and laundry areas. There was no one there, but I heard Crawford scream Stop! Get back, stop! There was a howling scream and I looked into the living room. She was spraying mace directly in the mouth, eyes, and nose, of a hideously disfigured man. He had deep lacerations all over the skin covering his face and I swear you could see his teeth through the flaps of skin. His teeth were biting her wrist making her drop the can of mace. By the way, it didn't seem to have any effect on whoever or whatever was chewing on her wrist.“ Dudley coughed and wiped sweat off his forehead before continuing.

  “Gilmer fired at the one attacking Crawford and I drew my gun, but” he paused and checked the record time left. It said six minutes. “But I froze. I'm not proud of it, but it’s the truth. I couldn't move. As Gilmer continued firing more-” he paused trying to think of the right word, “attackers came out of the hall and started moving toward him as he laid down fire.

  He yelled Get her out of here! and kept firing as Sazera ran over and swung his club down on the biting man’s head, crushing his skull.” Dudley checked the record time left and continued.

  “Gilmer yelled and screamed as he fired and Sazera went over to help Crawford. He scooped her up in his arms and ran back toward the exit. But the attackers continued toward him, they wouldn’t stop or get down. Oh sure, they'd fall backwards or fall all the way to the ground as he shot them but in seconds they'd be back up again.” He looked at the screen and saw he only had three minutes left. “Gilmer exchanged clips and kept firing as he moved back toward the exit. He must have tripped over something though, because I saw him fall and hit the back of his head against the doorway and tumble through the trailer door. The attackers then ran outside after him and I heard more gunshots and ran to the bathroom and locked myself in.” He checked the time and saw one minute and ten seconds left to record.

  “I saw them running for the bus, Shoemaker and Sazera anyway, and saw at least a dozen attackers running after them. I chose to stay and...and hide. A few minutes ago the bus was driving up the exit road, swerved into the ditch and crashed. I'm going outside in a second, to see if I can help Gilmer or anyone else. Wish me luck.” He saved the file, buttoned the phone in his shirt pocket, and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Yes. I am going to go out there. I am going. I am not a chicken shit son of a bitch. He thought doubtfully, staring at his reflection but unable to move toward the door.

  CHAPTER 14

  Billy sat hunched in a small ball of misery. He held the dog's head in his lap, crying softly as he petted him. Reaching into the backpack, he pulled out the last water bottle. Pouring a little into the palm of his hand, he held it to the dog’s mouth.

  “Come on boy, you can do it, just try a lick or two. You'll be okay, come on, just lick my hand.” he said softly. Boris was on his side with his tongue partly visible through his closed mouth but he wouldn't drink. He held the water in his palm until the dog whined softly and fell asleep. Gently, he patted the dog’s mouth with the water trying to get his tongue wet at least.

  There was no shade on the path and the sun was making the boy uncomfortable, yet he wouldn't leave the dog. He knew the snake had killed his friend and couldn't think of anything else to do as he stroked him softly.

  “Oh Boris, I'm so sorry. We should have stayed back at the trailer. If we'd stayed you wouldn't have died out here.” he said, resting his head onto the dog's furry chest. Feeling the slow rise and fall as the dog still breathed, and the slow thumping of his heart, he waited for death to come as the morning wore on.

  How long they stayed like that Billy had no idea, but after some time he heard something behind him coming up the path they had used. He sat up and grabbed his BB rifle pumping it up as powerful as it could get. I don't care what happens to me anymore. Maybe I should just let them get us. Does it really matter? He thought, heartbroken and exhausted. When the large limping zombie came around a corner of the trail he decided he'd rather go down fighting. He pulled the trigger as he felt Boris moving less and less in his lap.

  “Leave us alone, you bastards!” He yelled, as he fired through eyes stinging with tears.

  Josey felt something blast apart most of his right ear. He dropped the sword, slapped his hand over his bloody ear, and jumped up and down yelling. “Ow! Damnmothefucking! Shit! Ah fuuuck!” Josey yelled and swore, holding a hand over his bloody ear. “Damn it Billy! It's me Josey, don't shoot!”

  Billy dropped the rifle, ran to the big man and hugged him tight. He cried and tried to talk, but was impossible to understand. Finally, Josey had to shake the boy to get his attention.

  “Okay, time out! Take a deep breath and count to five kid. And you don't need to be that upset over my ear, I was thinking of getting it pierced someday anyway.”

  Billy nodded, took a deep breath and counted to ten just to be on the safe side. Then he looked back where Boris was and said “I wasn't crying about your ear. It's Boris, a snake bit him and now he's going to die. And it’s all my fault. He was a good dog and I got him killed.” He turned, walked back and knelt beside the dog.

  Josey picked up the sword and limped forward until he saw the mangled remains of the snake and the seemingly dead dog nearby.

  “Are you okay? Did it bite you?”

  “I wish it had. Boris is dead, and it’s all my fault.”

  Josey leaned down and felt the dog still breathing. “He's a tough dog, he's no quitter.” he said, as distant gunshots could be heard coming from the park entrance nearly a mile away.

  “Help me pick him up. Someone’s come at last, if we hurry, we can get Boris to town and get our asses out of here to boot.” Josey said.

  Billy helped lift up Boris. Josey cradled the dog against his chest, with his left arm and carried the sword in his right hand. After putting the water bottle in his backpack, and picking up his rifle, he gave Josey a weird look. They had only been walking about a minute, slowly and carefully, back down the path when Josey saw the kid again looking at him suspiciously. Between his bloody ear, the heat, and the looks he started getting madder as they walked.

  “What the Hell is wrong with you, kid? Why do you keep staring at me like that?”

  “Why are you dressed up like a Nazi?”

  The cruiser slid to a stop near the smoking remains of the garage and Wyatt flipped off the siren but left the cars emergency lights on. The fire was near the front of the structure and was beginning to spread into the large pile of debris behind it. In addition to shingles, and a few tons of splintered boards there were quite a few oddities sticking out of the wreckage.

  A dress makers dummy stood perfectly intact, near the top of the pile. It was wearing a shiny blue sat
in piece of women’s lacy lingerie. Partially under a pile of burning boards a late 1800's era bicycle, the kind with the enormous front wheel and the little one in back, was on its side. It's big wheel slowly turned in the air. Burning with an disturbing smile it's face was a three foot tall teddy bear, with bright blue glass eyes. A giant plastic Santa Claus Christmas decoration, peeked out of a pile of shingles with a jolly expression on his face that seemed oddly out of place as the flames steadily crept toward him. Somewhere, buried deep in the wreckage, a clock chimed twelve times. And thousands of pieces of paper and photographs fluttered down from the sky, spreading out over most of the ruined garage.

  Deputy Holmes jumped out and ran to the trunk for the fire extinguisher, as Wyatt began calling into the debris.

  “Hello! Can anyone hear me?! This is Captain Wyatt of the sheriff's department! Mrs. Remlap are you in there?! Call out if you can hear me?!” He listened intently, and looked over the jumble of rafters and roofing shingles.

  Maria could hear him and she also heard something else nearby in the dark crawling through the debris grunting. She yelled “Get me out of here! Please hurry! There’s something in here trying to kill me!”

  Thomas heard a woman's terrified voice coming from a gap in the boards. He abandoned the extinguisher which he saw was never going to stop the fire, growing quickly out of control, anyway. The fire was too big. It was like trying to put a bandage on someone who had been decapitated. He shined his flashlight down, thru the gap in the wreckage, and spotted a smoke smudged young lady maybe six feet away, and began moving broken boards and debris from around the hole.

  “I found a survivor over here!” he yelled to the captain.

  Wyatt looked over his shoulder, toward the trailer park's entrance, when he heard the distant sound of gunfire. It sounded like all Hell had broken loose. The gunfire scared the birds into flight and the sky was suddenly full of flying black spots. His hand moved automatically to the pistol at his side as the gunshots continued accompanied by distant screams.

  “Shit and double shit!” he swore, as he ran over and helped the deputy move boards out of the way. He spoke into his shoulder radio microphone he wore on his uniform, as he worked.

  “This is Captain Wyatt! HQ come in! We got trouble can you read?”

  I'm in Hell. This has got to be Hell. Minarges thought as he lay in the road, feeling his broken ribs. When the bus hit he'd been lucky. Well, as lucky as a person can be when hit by a bus. One of the front tires had run over his chest snapping his ribs like dry twigs, but miraculously he was still alive- In a world of pain, having a hard time breathing, and terrified, but alive. With trembling hands, he reached for his gun. He pulled it out of the holster and felt nauseous as he checked the clip. A shriek came from his right. He looked down the road and saw Crawford running toward him.

  Still lying on his back, he fired at her. He shot better than usual, but the helmet camera she wore was bulletproof as was the one he was wearing. The bullets ricocheted off the helmet, and destroyed the microphone that went with her camera. As she reached him he turned the gun back and placed the hot muzzle under his chin, pointed at his head. If this has all been a nightmare, I'll wake up and everything will be okay. If this has been real, it won't matter anyway. I will not be turned into a monster. I will not be a zombie. He thought bitterly, as he pulled the trigger.

  The audio and video, from his helmet camera showed what happened next. There was an audible click as he discovered the gun was out of bullets. Followed by his last coherent words as Crawford arrived and began biting and tearing at him. “Fuck it! Eat me, bitch!”

  Shoemaker awoke to gunshots and a colossal headache just before he opened his eyes. He saw half of Sazera's body hanging through the windshield and felt a very tender bump swelling on his forehead. Looking out the bus staircase windows, behind him, he spotted several people seeming to aimlessly wander around by the entrance and the trailers. Crawford was bending over Minarges, in the roadway, and she was biting and ripping at him.

  It's sort of like that movie, I saw, where people get infected and go kill crazy, he thought, carefully and quietly getting to his feet. His left wrist was hurt and he felt it might be broken, but no other bones seemed to be busted. He checked his holster and was relieved to find his gun was still there. Grabbing a chrome railing, he climbed into the front storage area of the bus. Looking through his key ring he crawled to the weapons locker. As he looked for the right key he heard the radio crackling then “This is Captain Wyatt! HQ come in HQ! We got trouble can you read?”

  So Wyatt's still alive he thought, as he flipped open the lock. He pulled out the Remington twelve gauge shotgun and the box of shells that went with it. Outside the bus a scream was answered by several more screams. He grabbed the second box of shells. The screams got louder as he quickly loaded the gun.

  Shoemaker thought he was seeing things when a young man rode by the wrecked bus on a bicycle, through the crowd of crazy people at the exit. The young man’s face looked determined as he shouted something. He couldn't understand the words as they merged with the screams. The bike was moving fast. Without a radar speed detector, he guessed that the kid had to be doing sixty miles an hour as he sped up the road.

  Crawford was standing up. She looked around and was the last person in the way, as the kid pedaled up the hill. Hearing him shouting, she grabbed at him.

  Shoemaker prepared to jump out of the bus if she caught him. But the young man was riding like the devil itself was chasing him and easily swerved around her. A few other screaming people started after him, but by the time they reached where Minarges stood, shakily in the road, the bicyclist was already passing the first turn back in the road and still going unbelievably fast.

  Wish I had a bike, Shoemaker thought, cradling the shotgun.

  Years spent riding a bike from town to town, had made Jeremiah's muscles strong and he felt ready as he mounted his ten speed bike where he and Issac hid them yesterday. When he heard the distant gunshots and screams he had a moment of doubt, yet it passed as he felt the chain hanging around his neck. It was a gift his mom gave him when he told her of his plans to travel the country spreading the good news. The cross hanging on it wasn't made of gold or any other precious metal, but what it represented reminded him he'd made Charlie a promise to get help.

  He looked up at the beautiful blue sky, for a moment, and prayed aloud the Twenty-Third Psalm. His legs trembled, like electricity was running through the muscles, as he pedaled toward the trailer park's exit. He stared across the park at the road, and prayed aloud as his legs pumped faster. When he reached the part of the prayer with the words: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: For thou art with me”, he was shouting. He swerved the bike through the zombies midst ignoring them. Jeremiah never felt stronger or better in his life as he pedaled as hard as he could.

  It’s possible the horde of undead and infected may have just been too slow to react to the sight of him riding by shouting words they no longer understood. But for Jeremiah his faith was all the explanation he needed as to why none came close to touching him as he rounded the first turn hardly slowing at all. The wind blew through his hair and he felt that God had guided him through the worst.

  Offering silent thanks he breathed harder riding his bike up the road leading out of the valley. The initial burst of energy had left him almost entirely, by the time he reached the halfway point to the summit, which is probably the only reason he survived the crash.

  His shirt and face were drenched in sweat as he pedaled around a corner of the road. Jeremiah was distracted by the unexpected sight of a big man carrying a dog in one arm and a sword in the other with a little boy following him. By the time he managed to look away from the unusual group he had to make a choice- Jump off the bike or ride it down the cliff he was moments away from going over. He jumped.

  Sweat was making his vision blur as it ran into his eyes, while the sun baked him inside the
old smelly leather coat, but Josey trudged on. His ear ached and he wished he could stop and do something about the blood that continued to ooze from the wound the BB had done. It didn't hurt too much, but the blood attracted a small determined following of flying bugs that seemed drawn to the blood like a magnet to steel. Billy, looking tired and dejected, followed right behind him.

  Josey heard the gunfire coming from somewhere near the park’s entrance and wondered what was going on. His biggest worry was that he hadn't heard any sirens of additional police arriving. Even if they wiped them out, surely they would have called for more police to secure the area, he thought, as he stumbled on some slippery sand, and almost fell.

  He saw the clearing with the abandoned trailer next to the uncovered well, where he had found the signs of Billy and Boris's earlier passage. Stopping in the shade of the trailer, about twenty feet from the well, he looked around but didn't see anyone.

  “Sorry kid. I gotta stop and rest a couple of minutes.” he said, slowly and gently setting the dog in the shade. He stretched and slipped off the overcoat. His coveralls were soaked in sweat, and his knee was aching fiercely, as he sat down on the wooden stairs attached to the trailer by the front door.

  Josey pulled a greasy red bandana out of his pocket and tied it around his leg where the man with the meat fork stabbed him earlier. He tied it in a secure knot and yawned hugely. Leaning back against the trailer door exhausted, he closed his eyes.