The Z Word Page 14

  “Who in the hell would lock them in the safe house?” Gareth demanded between shots.

  “I don't know!” Malone fired and brain matter sprayed the disco dancer behind it.

  “Who all has keys?”

  Malone's expression became mulish. He ignored the question.

  Between the horrid moans, the gunshots, and the wailing of Eva and Cynthia, Seffy clapped her hands over her ears. She turned away and began breathing through her mouth. The smell of rotted flesh threatened to make her vomit.

  She walked in the opposite direction of the melee, confident the three gunslingers could handle the onslaught. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to imagine herself back in her office chair, greeting clients with a gentle smile, remembering every name and circumstance, making each feel like they were part of more than just a antiseptic setting with uncaring professionals—

  “Seffy!”

  She opened her eyes and added her scream to the one behind her. A man in a filthy turquoise leisure suit grabbed her by the shoulder, his mouth open and teeth gnashing. She spun away and ran into another one—this time a small woman in a bloodstained leotard, ballet skirt and stilettos.

  Seffy veered to one side, fell, struggled back to her feet and looked wildly around. She saw the pile of dead corpses near the front of the structure, but more were coming from a different direction. Their moans made her hair stand up and shiver. She ran toward Gareth.

  “Seffy, where's your machete?”

  “I don't know!”

  “You mean you just dropped it?”

  Ignoring his incredulous tone, she fell to her knees and scrabbled in the sand. A glint caught her eye and she grabbed at it. The machete.

  Getting to her feet, she saw the others fighting off the dancers. Addison and Malone were reloading while Gareth continued to pick off the denizens of disco. Trent hacked madly with his ax, splattering body parts everywhere while Jared tried to fend off a guy dressed like Snoop Dog. The feathery plume stuck in the hat band bobbed in an odd counterpoint to the wearer's snapping teeth. Eva and Cynthia screamed and swung their machetes, slicing mostly empty air.

  Lani appeared at Seffy's side, her machete gripped between white-knuckled fists. Tears streamed down her delicate cheeks. “How did we get here, Seffy? How can we go home?”

  “No one seems to have any answers,” she said, trying to keep her eye on loose dancers. “But trust me, I want to go home, too.”

  “Remember what we used to do when we got into a bad situation?”

  “You mean head to the spa?”

  “No, before that.”

  “Nope,” Seffy said. Not going there. Not now. She flashed her machete at a redhead in a sweater dress and leg warmers.

  “There's too many!” yelled Trent.

  “I'm out of bullets!” screamed Addison.

  “We sang those songs,” Lani said.

  “Any chance we can hole up in the safe house?” Gareth.

  “No way! There could be more in the basement.”

  “What are we gonna do?”

  “I don't know!”

  “I don't like those songs anymore, Lani. You know that.”

  “Well, let's just try.”

  Seffy shook her head. “Kinda busy here!”

  Lani firmed her lips, hurt darkening her expression.

  “I need some help!” Jared.

  “Girls!” Gareth roared. “Start swinging!”

  Seffy struck out at a dancer in a gold lamé halter dress. Her machete hit it with a dull thud. She tried again, but didn't seem to slow it any. Oh, God, this is it. I'm gonna get it for real this time. Hope dissolved in flood of renewed resignation.

  Lani took a deep breath and began singing, her weapon drooping, her voice soaring.

  “All people circling this planet

  Have to shout out what just hit my ears

  A big shindig in every country

  I heard about it over the airwaves

  Don't know who sent the news

  But people from all over were telling me...”

  At first her words were drowned by the frantic moans and screams and sound of metal on rotted flesh, but after a few moments, the dancers stopped caterwauling and seemed to listen. The non-dancers took the opportunity to retreat closer into the circle where they were all surrounded.

  Seffy stepped away from the lamé lady and crowded Lani, who continued to sing with her sweet, thready soprano.

  Malone reloaded the last of his shells, Gareth was holding his rifle like a baseball bat, and Addison looked ready to faint. Seffy wondered why the dancers paused. She did a full circle scan and saw the two dozen or so stand as if unsure of themselves, their ears cocked, their eyes—those that still had them—clouded, yet somehow alert.

  Lani closed her eyes and sang the chorus, “Around this entire planet,

  people heard the message, they're all experiencing good emotions

  when the sun goes down.”

  One shuffled ever so slightly to the right. Others followed. For some a half-step, for others, a leaning to one side. Seffy saw them all seem to shift to the left. Then back to the right. In time. To the beat of Lani's song.

  No way.

  “What the—”

  Gareth cut Malone off. “Unbelievable!”

  “Are they dancing?” Trent asked in raw disbelief.

  “I think so,” Addy said, her voice tinged with awe. “Lani, looks like you have a super power after all!”

  “Are they doing the Hustle?” Gareth whispered, suddenly by her side. Seffy glanced up at him, her mind reeling. “Who cares as long as they're not doing the Eat Us!”

  The dancers began clumsily shaking their booties, what parts were left anyway.

  “All people steppin' along the boulevard

  All people shakin' with the rhythm

  Everyone'll be heated up in the land of the free.”

  Gareth joined in. “Chicago, Allentown, San Diego.”

  “You all just join up with us,” sang Lani, beginning to smile.

  “All of us are gonna party in Paris tonight.”

  Addison began singing the list of countries they'd all be partying in. Seffy couldn't bring herself to sing. She was too busy watching reanimated dancers doing a semblance of a disco shuffle in the sand.

  “All around this planet, they all got the message

  They all heard the shout out

  There's a spot where all can assemble

  We'll all have a blast

  We'll all glow until dawn.”

  Addison and Gareth joined in for the chorus, while the others looked on in deepening stupefication. The song hit a crescendo and warbled to a stop.

  “Well, that was unexpected,” Trent said in the ensuing silence.

  Lani beamed. “It's not a super power, just the power of music.”

  Seffy looked around in wonder, amazed such a lame song had saved their lives. But the dancers began looking around too, getting restless and beginning to emit moans of what sounded like disappointment.

  “Uh, oh,” Gareth said, raising his rifle. “Anyone know the words to Funkytown?”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Yeah, right,” Trent mocked.

  Gareth nervously eyed the restless figures surrounding them. “No, really, I'm serious.”

  “I don't remember the words,” Seffy mumbled, while watching the dancers shuffle closer in. She looked at Trent. “You try something.”

  Trent hopped around, folding his arms back and forth, dancing more like Britney than Eminem. “Yo, ma peeps, fo shizzle, bust a move, yo...”

  The moans grew louder and the dancers became agitated.

  “Check out the wanksta,” Addy whispered.

  “Uh,” Lani said, “I don't think they like rap.”

  Gareth's fingers tightened on the rifle. “They're dressed like disco dancers, so they want disco.”

  “Disco is dead,” Malone said, and spit.

  “How many shells you got left?” Gareth ask
ed him.

  “Two.”

  “Then you better start singing.”

  The dancers shuffled forward. Malone surveyed them from under thunderous brows. Then rumblings could be heard coming from deep in his chest.

  Seffy stared at him, keeping one eye on those surrounding them. Is he really gonna sing—or just start dropping a load of effenheimers?

  “Initially, I felt fear—”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “I felt solidified

  Always certain I'd have no life

  apart from you next to me—”

  Seffy didn't expect a tenor voice, especially one clear and strong, growing stronger with every word. She wasn't the only one who noticed. The dancers stopped their approach to listen.

  “I laid awake through lots of evenings

  remembering how you treated me bad

  I toughened up

  I figured out how make it on my own—”

  “You've got to be kidding,” Trent said. “I thought this guy hated disco.”

  “Shhh,” Addison said. “Besides, the zombies seem to like it.”

  “Now here you are from far away

  I came in to see you there

  with grief written all over you

  Shoulda bought a whole new bolt

  Shoulda stolen away your keys

  If I'da dreamt for but a moment

  you'd show up to hassle me.”

  The dancers began what could be called swaying to the tune. Seffy still couldn't believe what she was seeing. Or hearing. At what point could this be reality?

  “So get on out, get outta my house

  You spin 'round this very instant

  'cause I don't like you anymore

  You are the meanie who dumped me to make me sad

  you thought I'd curl up

  you thought I'd fall down dead?”

  “Wait for it,” Trent said, his lip curling.

  “Heck no, no way

  I will prevail!”

  A chorus of moans went up in moany exultation.

  “While I can feel affection

  I'm gonna make it

  I have a lot of years left

  I have a lot of affection to spread

  I will prevail

  I will prevail!”

  A hand slipped into hers. Seffy looked over to find Lani next to her, tears sliding down her cheeks. She watched Malone, whose eyes were closed, head thrown back as he continued to belt out his anthem.

  “I gave it everything I had not to crumble to pieces—”

  Gareth leaned close. “I've been watching the structure and I think all the zombies are out of it.”

  “—working hard to sew up the part of my busted heart—”

  “I think we should be easing toward it while they're distracted by Malone's, um, singing.”

  “—I've suffered oh lots of evenings feeling like a loser, I wept and wept

  but my spine is straight, my chin is up—”

  “What about him?” Lani asked.

  “When you view me, I'm all brand new—”

  “Don't worry—”

  “I'm not that pathetic bound up sot who still has the hots for you—”

  “—I'll handle Malone. You just get the others toward the building.”

  “—so you thought you'd stop by and assume I'd fall back into your arms—”

  Seffy motioned to the others with her machete, directing them to the building. They didn't need to be motioned to twice.

  “—now I'm piling up my affection for someone who'll reciprocate it!”

  She looked back and saw Gareth grab a handful of Malone's coveralls from behind and pull him backwards.

  “I will prevail!”

  ***

  “We prevailed,” Addison breathed as she pulled the door shut behind them.

  Malone straightened, took in his surroundings, then spit in the corner.

  “Wow,” Lani said with a crooked smile, “you have a lovely voice, Malone.”

  He stared at her in consternation. “What are you talking about?” he said, now sounding like he had a throat full of rocks. “It was just a strategy. To survive.”

  “Then you had a lovely strategy,” Addison said, with apparent glee.

  “Okay, what just happened out there?” Trent stood, his face red. “Zombies do not dance.”

  “Hey 404,” Addy said, “they just did.”

  “I think it must have something to do with the atmosphere,” Lani said with a flourishy hand movement.

  “I bet Malone knows something about that.”

  Malone looked at Trent through slitted eyes. “Nope. Just be thankful we had an opportunity to make our escape.”

  “To what?” Trent snapped. “To this?”

  Malone shrugged. “Better than being a zombie buffet.”

  “Oh my God!” Eva covered her mouth and pointed.

  They all looked in the direction of her shaking hand and saw part of a pair of legs extending from a dark corner.

  “Musta been their lunch,” Malone observed without interest.

  “Hey, ladies present,” Gareth snapped. “We need to remove it if we're going to stay here any length of time.”

  “Can't open the door now,” Malone said. “We didn't kill the zombies, we just gave them the slip. Probably more out there now, too.”

  “No doubt they 'triangulated',” said Seffy faintly, feeling the need for close companionship with a porcelain bowl.

  “What about the compound you mentioned?” Trent said. “It's only a couple more miles from here, right?”

  Malone stuck the stogie back in his mouth. “Yeah, but have you noticed the closer we get to the compound, the more zombies there are?”

  “Maybe the zombies are coming from the compound?” Gareth said.

  “That's a possibility,” Malone said, glancing at the body in the corner.

  “So then why would we want to go there?” Addison said.

  “It's shelter,” Malone snapped, “which is at a premium in the desert. Don't be so picky.”

  “So you want us to trap ourselves in some kind of fortified structure filled with zombies and you call me picky?”

  He ignored her and stalked over to the body, pulling it into the light of a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. The cigar fell from his mouth. “Anatole!”

  Malone lifted the shirt front, bringing the face of the victim into view. Seffy looked away from the body, as much of the man's throat was gone. Malone's face went through several contortions as he stared at the man who'd obviously been a friend. Everyone was quiet, unsure of what to say.

  “Did you see the condition of those zombies?” he cried. “They were shredded. Anatole didn't go down without a fight!”

  “The question is,” Trent said after a tense moment, “will he get up with a fight?”

  Malone froze, his eyes bleak. “I suppose he will.”

  “How...long?” Eva asked.

  Gareth spoke up. “We don't know how long he was in here. Could be any time.” His eyes found Seffy's for a brief second.

  She winced.

  “Who still has shells left?” Trent asked.

  “Just Malone,” Addison said, her expression pained.

  Everyone looked at him and knew what he would have to do.

  “He was a friend?” Lani ventured.

  Malone lowered the body back to the floor. “Knew him for twenty years.”

  “Anatole...sounds Russian,” Addison said.

  “Naw, he was from Cleveland.”

  “What kind of uniform does he have on?”

  Seffy noticed for the first time the man wore dark green coveralls like Malone, but his had official-looking patches and stripes on the arms. She could just make out the letters on one of the patches. Fugere? What was a fugere?

  “Is he from this compound you mentioned?” Gareth asked, although the answer seemed obvious.

  “What is the compound?” Addison asked. “And why does Montana always s
eem to be lousy with compounds?”

  Malone backed up and sank to the floor, sitting with his knees bent and his head bowed. Lani sat next to him, putting her hand on his arm.

  Gareth eyed the body and reached into one of the pockets of the coveralls. He pulled out an old-fashioned walkie-talkie. “Wonder if this works?”

  The sound of a rifle cock echoed in the room. “You'll be handing that to me now, boy.”

  Gareth looked at the rifle pointed at his chest, then at the steel in Malone's eyes. He tossed him the unit, his brows arched.

  “Put that gun down!” Lani said, outraged.

  Malone lowered the rifle and managed to look chagrined.

  “Does it work?” Trent asked, his attention shifting between him and Gareth.

  Malone's face set into a stubborn mask. Then he pressed the button.

  Silence.

  “Change the channel,” Trent said.

  “I know what to do!” Malone glared and moved the dial, to no effect. “Batteries must be dead.”

  “Open it up. See what kind it takes.”

  Seffy couldn't understand Malone's behavior. Was he offended because it was an item of his dead friend's? Or because he didn't want them to have contact with anyone out here? Seffy bit her lip. And how was it Malone had ended up with the last of the shells?

  He pulled out the batteries and tossed them to Gareth. Gareth stared at them in confusion. “No wonder they don't work. They look ancient. Don't these safe houses have fresh battery stock?”

  Malone shrugged and looked away. Ignoring the burning in her stomach, Seffy took careful steps around the body, and began going through some storage cupboards. She found more oatmeal—ugh—some canned soup and dishes and utensils, but no batteries. Giving up, she looked into the main room. Once again, it was similar to the others—ratty couch, a few spindly wooden chairs, and old posters on the walls. Yet, this safe house looked less supplied. Perhaps the bathroom had everything necessary.

  She edged along the wall, avoiding the interested looks of the others, and slipped into the bathroom. It was empty aside from the fixtures, but blood spatters stained the walls. Seffy fought nausea at the sight. She deflected her gaze and did what was necessary. A quick peek in the mirror showed she didn't look a whole lot different than the reanimated folks outside. Even her leftover tan managed to look pasty. As soon as she got back home, she was going to splurge on the whole spa package—every lotion, gel, wax, every pumice stone Lani had in the place would be used to bring her back to normal. Whatever normal was, anyway.