Transformation Page 6

  Ben let out a painful moan. His breath came in jagged gasps. He face was white as a sheet. He tried to hit her, but that just increased his own pain. She smiled when she heard the word please whisper past Ben’s clenched teeth. But the world was swimming wildly for Willow and she couldn’t do anything more than stay focused on her primary task, keeping the balls in her vice-like grip. She lay on her back on the damp ground wishing she could let go and end this, go back to the van and pop a huge handful of pills. But they’d both crossed a line there was no coming back from. One of them was going to die. She was wondering what might happen next. She had no ideas.

  Ben was starting whimper. He started to gag and she knew the intense pain was going to make him vomit. She squeezed a little harder and pulled. Vomit roared from Ben’s mouth and splatted across her hair, face, and chest. He fell backwards and Willow let go. He was flat on his back and unconscious.

  Willow rolled on her stomach and clawed at the dirt to get away. She panicked when her legs refused to move. She pulled herself through the dirt slowly feeling the numbness in her back, not feeling anything below the waist. She was sobbing loudly. Her life was an irreparable mess. Her arms were starting to shoot with a pain that caused her to spasm. And Ben had managed to stab her a few times in the back of the head, glancing blows that sliced her scalp deeply in several places. Blood poured from the wounds and down the sides of her face. She felt her heartbeat in her nasal cavity like a hammer.

  She was dragging herself facedown, almost blind in the dark with all the blood and her long full dreads. She couldn’t bend her neck to look forward so she strained her eyes looking ahead of her in an attempt to see where she was going. She saw a pair of bare feet in front of her.

  “Please help me. You saw what Ben did to me.” Willow reached her hand up and grabbed the leg, it was cold and damp and the skin slid a few inches down the shin. She looked, ignoring the painful grinding in her neck to see a deadhead bending down towards her with arms outstretched. She let out a shriek that woke Ben from his pain-induced blackout.

  Ben watched as Willow was set upon by three zombies. He experienced a rare burst of emotion. He was scared to lose Willow. Although he’d just tried to kill her, the reality of losing her shook Ben to his core. He would’ve rushed headlong into the biting dead to save her if he hadn’t seen her blood spraying in the air after which her ear-shattering screams were suddenly cut off.

  Ben was up and running towards the van, despite the pain. He heard several screams in the woods from all around and knew that more of the dead were on their way. Even though he was face to face with death, the burning pain in his groin that radiated through his abdomen threatened to drop him. Ben gasped, forced his feet to move one after the other, trying not to vomit again. He resisted dropping into the fetal position but the second he pulled the van door shut behind him he fell to the floor and shook and moaned in agony.

  Ben lay perfectly still, not for fear of the zombies, but because moving caused him incredible pain. Even laying still the pain was intolerable. If he were able to move freely he would have simply driven the van away from the glade. As he lay, listening as the last of the distant screams end abruptly, he wept in pain and loneliness. Not for Willow’s pain but his own.

  Ben listened as the dead thumped around the van until they eventually wandered off. The pain was still bad, even laying perfectly still, and he had to do something about it. He finally sucked it up and straightened out slightly from the fetal position daring to only moving his arm and head. He found Willow’s pill bag, a gallon sized Ziploc bag filled to the point where it could barely close. He pulled it towards him with one hand and when it fell on its side it burst open and spilled out on the carpeted floor. He fished out several pills from the pile that would knock him on his ass and dry swallowed them. It was cold and getting colder. He pulled a sleeping bag and several of the old blankets and pillows over himself as he prepared for a long hibernation. His immediate plan was to float in a pain free void for a long time. If he never came back from that void so be it.

  §

  Later Ben awoke, but only for a brief moment. He wasn’t quite sure if he was dreaming or not. Was everything a dream? Was Willow really gone? Was there really ever a Willow? Was the van really moving, sunlight pouring through the front windows, and jostling his body all around? He was still very high, he realized as he let himself fall instantly back into a deep slumber.

  As he rapidly fell back into oblivion he was pretty sure that the van was actually moving.

  6.

  Some of the cars still had functioning alarm systems and they were blaring. But to most in the structure, they sounded far away and underwater. To some there was no sound at all.

  A very large dust cloud billowed from one side of the parking garage and drifted on the stiff breeze. Debris from the explosion was spread out in a large arc across the ground for many yards. There were body parts large and small as well. A wide, shallow crater in the concrete floor of the second level marked the epicenter of the explosion. There was a large empty area around the crater where supplies were once neatly stacked. Other than the car alarms, it was silent for some moments.

  Weed was walking slowly down the ramp as Jeff caught up. He had been on the roof hooking up the batteries.

  “What happened?” Jeff ran past. Eyes wide.

  Weed moseyed on down the ramp. He was too old for running, or maybe he just didn’t give a fuck. When he got knocked on his ass, he skinned up both elbows. He let the blood trickle down his arms. He pulled on his cap over mussed hair. By the time he reached the second level, the kid was crying and quickly pacing back and forth.

  “I don’t know what to do! I don’t know what to do!” Jeff kept repeating as he paced. He finally stopped and put his face in his hands and shook as he sobbed.

  Dale, Ron, Lisa, and Ana were already on the scene and were just leaving to search the structure for survivors.

  “What happened?” That was the question on most folks lips.

  “It was an explosion. The question is how did it happen?” Dale had his hands on his head, fingers intertwined, as he looked at the crater.

  Jeff appeared next to him wiping his cheeks with his sleeve. “Could have been anything. There was all kinds of stuff to make bombs with down here.”

  Dale looked at Jeff sideways but thought, no, it couldn’t have been. Not Jeff. He looked around and caught Francis watching him. When their eyes met the old man started towards him. Maybe you old man. Almost definitely you.

  Francis came over and scratched his head, knowing the pig would try to place this squarely on his shoulders.

  “Had to be an accident.” Weed said and immediately realized how guilty he sounded. Ah fuck it, he thought, no matter what I say or do the cop’s got me in his sights.

  Dale looked at him. “No way this was an accident.”

  “I agree.” Jeff sniffed.

  “So who did it?” Dale looked at Francis. “Any ideas old man?”

  Weed’s hand unconsciously went to his knife. He grit his teeth and stared Dale down.

  Dale’s eyes flicked from Francis’ face to the knife and back.

  “Once a murderer always a murderer.”

  “Don’t push me no more son.” Weed hissed but took his hand off his knife.

  Jeff was wide-eyed. “Dude! What the fuck are you two doing?” He started sobbing again and walked off.

  Ron was returning from a quick sweep. He saw the tail end of the exchange between Dale and Francis.

  “What’s going on?” Ron placed himself between the two physically.

  Jeff barely turned his head and yelled a few words. “Those two assholes.”

  Francis turned away and walked a few feet.

  Jeff started talking to no one in particular.

  “We had the stuff needed to make about three different bombs down here.”

  Ron looked surprised. Francis and Dale didn’t.

  “Why were they all stored together?” Ron
asked.

  “That’s the thing.” Dale stood with folded arms and faced Ron straight on. “That stuff needed to be put together in the right amounts and then ignited. It wasn’t an accident.”

  “But who?” Ron started. But he knew what would erupt if he finished the question—could have done this?

  Jeff finished what he assumed the question to be.

  “Who knows how to make a bomb? Well I do. I could make napalm, poisonous gas, and a bomb with all the stuff that was here.”

  “Really?” Ron couldn’t help but be a little freaked out by what Jeff was saying.

  “Yep.” Dale looked Ron in the eye, hoping all he’d said about Francis, all his suspicions, would finally hit home. “It’s common knowledge in certain circles, right Francis?”

  Weed glowered, debated not responding, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

  “Yeah, lots of folks know how to build bombs but it don’t mean they did it.”

  Dale nodded, a small sign of agreement with the statement.

  “Had to be that new guy you let in.” Weed said smiling looking directly at Dale. He looked away and spotted a wire shelf on its back about ten yards away. He frowned. That was the shelf they kept the cases of hooch—the good shit! The smooth shit!

  Ana and Lisa returned.

  “We can’t find anyone else.” Ana said, a worried look on her face. “I ran all the way up to the roof and around the fourth and third levels. Lisa . . . “ She stopped talking to catch her breath.

  “I walked around the second level and looked over the edges and in the stairwells.”

  Ron looked at Lisa, a worried and pained expression on his face. His unspoken question was obvious.

  Lisa just shook her head. She hadn’t seen Donna. Ron’s face crumpled into an expression of anguish, and he walked away quietly.

  Dale and Ron started to slowly walk through the rubble looking for answers. Jeff was off to the side. Weed was perversely amused at the scene, biting his cheek and trying like fuck not to laugh out loud. It was seeing that cop all worked up that did it. But he was also feeling things he hadn’t felt in a good long time. He felt angry at who might’ve done this for he had started considering the place his home and these people . . . family? Nah that’s too strong a word. But they were becoming important to him. He also felt worry for the black woman. He’d miss her if she was gone.

  Ana let out a scream and jumped aside with blood splatters on her hair and face. She looked up and sobbed. A man’s leg was wedged in the pipework above her. The leg was hairy and wore a work boot like the type Sal wore.

  “Oh my god.” Lisa held her hand to her mouth. She was staring at a black lump, that at first looked like a trash bag to her. It was a torso with a wisp of blond hair. One arm remained attached held on by a strand of torn muscle. It was most certainly Mary.

  “We need to take a . . . “ Ron began. “We need to . . . Who isn’t . . . ?” But he was too stunned and upset to even finish a sentence. He was feeling faint and nauseous. He knew in his gut that Donna was gone.

  “You did this!” Dale screamed at Weed. “You evil bastard!”

  Weed opened his eyes and mouth and did his best too look absolutely confused but that cop freaking out was just too much. He felt a big ass grin coming on so he went to plan B. He grabbed his chest and slumped to the ground on his hands and knees. Ron rushed to his side. Dale sneered at them both.

  “Damn it Dale! This isn’t the time for this shit.” Ron said as he dropped to his knees next to Weed. “You OK?”

  Weed just nodded. “I’ll be OK he croaked. This is just all too much for me. Help me up, I’ll get to work.”

  “No you need to rest.” Ron helped him to his feet and Weed shuffled on towards the ramp towards the third level. He was still close enough to hear Ron moan and sob. He heard Fatty talking to him.

  “We don’t know it’s Donna. We need to go look closer. And if that’s Sal, where’s Wendy? I don’t see any sign of her anywhere.”

  “She may have been close to the blast and vaporized,” Jeff stated flatly.

  “Fuck you.” Lisa spat and started crying. Then. “I’m sorry. I know . . . I know that’s just you.”

  Jeff looked at her oddly and remembered what Mary told him, sometimes you have to say sorry when you upset someone, even if you have no idea what you did wrong. “Sorry.” He whispered, a half question.

  “It’s OK.” Lisa hugged him. He was more confused than ever.

  Dale was standing still, looked calm on the outside, but he was seething with anger. He was sure Francis had something to do with this. He watched the old man shuffle away, but still glancing back at the scene.

  When Francis saw Dale looking at him, he smiled and winked. He swore he could see the cop’s knuckles go white.

  Dale felt a wave of peace and calm wash over him when he realized it was time to act. He knew what he was going to do, when he was going to do it, and this would all be over. He was going to make that old bastard disappear as soon as possible.

  Weed was smiling, smiling big. He knew just what the pig had in mind and he would be ready for him. This was far from the first time old Weed had someone want to plant him six feet under. Ha! Plant weed. Now that’s some funny shit. The feeling fit him like an old shoe. To Weed all these folks were just like little fish in a big pond. All he had to do was drop a few crumbs to attract them, make a splash when he wanted to frighten them, or, in the case of this here pig, drop a hook with the right bait on it. Poor bastard. He almost felt sorry for him, almost.

  Later Ron came to visit Weed, who was still awake and riding a nice high. Weed sat up and put his stocking feet on the ground to let Ron sit next to him on his bed.

  “Just coming to see if you are OK. You collapsed and . . . “

  “Oh I’m fine. How are you? Any sign of . . . sorry.”

  “No. None yet.” Ron’s face was a grimace of sorrow. His cheeks were wet with tears that still ran down his face.

  “We found . . . we found a lot of parts. We are sure we have parts of . . . a positive id on Alvin and Mary. Probably Sal.”

  “Sorry . . . I don’t know what to . . . “ Weed offered. “You think this structure’s still safe to be in?” Weed was looking into the pond right now, looking at a little black fish and dropping breadcrumbs in the water.

  “Um, I guess. I hadn’t thought about it.” Ron was silent for a moment. “Maybe we should move to one half of the structure or . . . I was going to say have someone look at it, but who?”

  “What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know. We had all those chemicals down there. Maybe something spilled on something else?”

  “Yeah.” Weed let the word flow out like a sigh. He looked at his feet and grunted a little. A little splash to get the attention of the little black fish.

  Ron noticed. “You OK?”

  “I’m trying, but Mr. Undercover thinks I did this. He looked set to attack me. I’m worried Ron.”

  “Oh yeah, he doesn’t like you. We were trying to give him time to warm up to you, but after this . . . “

  “Well I don’t know whether to be sad or mad. I mean, being accused of such a heinous act. You don’t think . . . Nah.”

  “What? You think Dale did this to make you look guilty?”

  Damn, Weed thought, Lil’ Blackie made that connection fast. Thought I’d have to spoon feed him that one. Keep dropping the crumbs Francis. He’s biting.

  “Well the thought crossed my mind. But no, I don’t think he done it. It don’t feel right. It’s more likely . . . Well I don’t think it was him.” He feigned a subject change. “That goo . . . “ He almost said Gook. “Goober. That poor goober got caught up in that blast.”

  “Goober?”

  “Yeah. A goober’s a peanut. It’s something one of my Foster dads used to called us kids. ‘Come here ya’ little Goobers’ he’d yell. ‘Wash up for dinner.’ You know dads and their pet names.” Nice save Francis.

  “Yeah m
ine called me Handsome for awhile because he knew it bothered me, especially in front of the girls. He stopped for years until he met Donna. First thing out of his mouth was ‘how’s Handsome treating you?’ Donna shot right back with ‘Who the hell is Handsome?’ Boy did they have a big laugh together.” Ron smiled.

  Weed felt his throat catch. Damn it, Weed thought, I’m feeling all broke up over a dead coon. Shit, crazier things have happened. More importantly did blackness miss the bait?

  “You said ‘it was more likely.’ More likely what?”

  He took the bait.

  “Well, I don’t like to point fingers but that young fella, the brainy one. He’s always messing with stuff that seems kind of dangerous to me. Propane tanks, car batteries, and whatnot. Maybe he accidently crossed some wires or something. Oh I hate to say a thing.”

  “No, you’re right. Maybe he needs a little supervision as he works. We have no idea what he’s doing. He likes to surprise us.”

  “Yeah, great little fella. I’d hate for him to feel like this was his fault or even that we might’ve considered it.”

  “Yeah, maybe from now on we’ll just be more attentive to what he’s up to. Ask him a few questions about the safety of what he’s doing. Actually, we should understand all his setups in case . . . in case we have to maintain one of them.”

  Ron was silent for a moment before he spoke again. “I’m glad we got to talk Francis.”

  “Me too. Now I’m going to sip some more of my medicine.” He winked. “And take a little nap. I’ll be up an around soon enough and you can let me know how I can help once you have a handle on all this.”

  “Sure thing.” Ron smiled and left.

  Damn it Francis, you silly fuck, you do like these folks. Well not the pig of course.

  Weed sat on his bed and took a big gulp of his “medicine.” He’d just chummed up the waters but good. Hopefully when that Dale bastard started pointing fingers at him Ron would remember the reasonable doubt that existed.