Dead Stop - Dead Stop Part 32
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Dead Stop Part 32

Halfway out the door, Harley stopped and looked back in at her with confusion.

"Marisa?"

The girl struggled to speak, to try and put the pain she was in into words. This wasn't the time, but she couldn't help it.

"Are you okay?" His eyes searched her face.

Was she? She struggled with that for a second and then decided to go with the truth.

"No," her voice quavered, and she discovered she didn't give one little damn about how pitiful it might have sounded. She was past all that now. "No I'm not. I need you to hurry up, comprende?"

"Marisa?"

"Partner," she smiled feebly but could feel the tears start to well, "I don't want you to take this wrong, but I'm going to need that shoulder to cry on pretty quick, okay? I'm sorry, but I think I'm going to need it in a big way. So please hurry up."

Harley didn't say a word.

The man took a quick glance out the rear window, then slid back in and pulled her into his arms. He crushed her to him with a fierce intensity that almost took her breath away...and even as sore as she was, it felt every bit as good as she thought it would.

"Fifteen minutes," he whispered hoarsely in her ear and held her tight. "Just get to that rest area and I promise I'll be there in fifteen minutes. And when I get there, I'm not going to let go again until you make me."

She clenched him back, her face buried against his shoulder. All she wanted at that moment was for time to give her a break and stop for a little bit. Just for an eternity or two...that would be fine.

But that couldn't be, because the horde was racing up behind them and Harley had to get to the truck.

"Fifteen minutes," he repeated. "I promise. Wait for me."

And then he was gone.

Marisa took a deep shuddering breath and recovered her composure as the man leapt out the door.

Harley covered the short distance to the truck in two quick strides. The eighteen wheeler's lights flashed as he used the automatic lock on the keychain as he moved. He leapt up onto the truck rail and yanked on the door. It didn't budge, and she realized the truck must have been unlocked earlier during Harley's struggles and now he had locked it again by mistake. She watched him fumble with the keys again just as a flicker of motion caught her eye in the rear window.

The dead were almost upon them...their grinning jaws becoming visible as they entered the diesel islands lights.

Marisa's hand hovered over the gear shift and she held her breath, ready to drop the big car into reverse. She had had enough violence and killing for one night, for the rest of her life even, but if these things came much closer before Harley got in the truck she wasn't going to hesitate to do some more.

Thankfully, the slam of the truck door informed her that Harley was in the cab and out of harm's way. She had now done all she could do.

It was time to go.

Fighting down the lump in her throat, Marisa shifted the car into drive and pressed the gas. The car eased forward, past the restaurant and towards the front of the parking lot. In the mirror, the lights of the Textro fell behind her for the last time. She pulled the Plymouth up on the road, but hesitated before hitting the gas.

The highway stretched empty and dark into the rain. Marisa had no idea what kind of world lay at the end of it. She only knew it would be different, and wouldn't include most of the family and loved ones that had been part of her life. Even now, this still wasn't over. There still remained a lot of pain, heartache, and loss to deal with in the future.

But at least she wouldn't have to face it alone.

A glance back showed Harley had the eighteen wheeler's lights on and was just beginning to pull out and start his rescue. Marisa wiped her eye and watched as he swung out in front of the gas pumps in order to start a wide circle of the building. He was doing what he needed to do, and being there for the people who needed him now.

Her turn would come.

He had promised.

"Fifteen minutes, partner," she whispered as she pulled away into the darkness. "Don't keep me waiting."

Epilogue.

Epilogue Benny.

"Benny? Can you hear me? Time to wake up!"

He didn't want to. He just wanted to sleep.

"Beeennnnniiieeeee. Wakey, wakey!"

Benny lay there, floating in the blackness, desperately wishing Stacey would go away. As fond as he was of the little waitress, she was annoying the hell out of him. Her voice threatened to pull him from the pain free oblivion he so wanted to sink back into.

"C'mon Benny. Wake up! The doc says you have to now."

The doctor?

His sluggish mind focused on the word and tried to build on the concept. The doctor? What doctor? Something wasn't right here.

Where was he? A hospital? Why was he in a hospital? And why would Stacey be there?

Benny struggled to understand. He fought to remember how he could have possibly ended up here. At first he drew a blank, then bits and pieces began to come back. A memory of arriving at work while listening to the radio about the approaching storm...a vision of a sky full of wheeling crows...Stacey dancing into the kitchen and swinging a towel...Marisa being angry...and...and...

He fought to bring it back out of the darkness.

...and looking out the back door to see a screaming Stacey being chased by demons! What the hell?

"Stacey?" he groaned and forced his eyes open. They felt like they weighed a ton. "Que pasa? What happened...wait...where are we?"

He wasn't lying in a hospital bed. He wasn't even in a hospital. Somebody had stretched him out on a couch in what looked like a feed store, or something very like it. He tried to move to sit up to get a better view but a restraining hand pressed him back down...something easily done since he felt weak as a kitten.

"Please don't move, Mr. Trujillo," the voice of another woman spoke from down around the vicinity of his legs. "I'm still stitching you up and we don't want me to have any accidents, now do we."

Stitches? He was hurt? Benny struggled to remember...

"It's okay, Benny," Stacey beamed at him. She sat in a folding chair beside the couch. "You're in good hands. Doc is a super genius at figuring things out. She got to spend a few hours online before the power went down and even figured out how to get people's blood types with the stuff they have here. Guess what? You and I are a match! Now you're getting a little of the good stuff...guaranteed to make you feel younger and look twice as cute in no time."

She grinned and held up a little plastic bag attached to a catheter that he realized was running to his arm. He also noticed a blood stained bandage wrapping the upper part of her arm as well.

"You're hurt..." he groaned. "What happened? Where are we? What were those demons chasing you?"

He watched Stacey look down towards the other woman, obviously for guidance, then face him again with a solemn expression.

Bennie guessed she had been given permission to tell him the truth.

"Those were dead people, Benny," she half whispered. "Zombies, Just like in the movies, only scarier."

"What? Zombies? But...how? Where?"

"They came from the county cemetery down the road," the girl closed her eyes and shuddered, "and they started killing everybody. Arnold, Tomas, Leon, Gladys...everybody. Only six of us got away. You, me, Marisa, Deke, Harley, and the Doc. Well, there were seven, but Grandpa Tom died this morning. We're hiding out here at a vet clinic near Lake Cowell until we figure out what to do next."

Benny just lay there, trying to take it in.

"By the way," Stacey seemed to rally, and gave him a weak smile, "Doc has to give you a shot once this blood bag is empty. I gotta warn you, she's not as good at giving shots as she is at other things."

"I heard that," came the woman's voice down at his legs. "Just so you know, once I'm done with Mr. Trujillo, I'm coming after you're arm next. Be glad for the wonders of lidocaine."

Benny ignored the banter and tried to focus.

"Hiding out?" He fought to think. "Why are we hiding out? Shouldn't we go get help?"

"There's nowhere to go, Benny." The fear in her voice convinced him she was telling the truth. "According to the CB radio in the truck, these monsters are coming up all over the place...Texas, Louisiana, Oklahoma, and Arkansas mostly...and we're right in the middle of it. There were some people saying it could also be happening in Mexico. And the people they're killing are turning into monsters too! The government has called out the army, and there's been rumors of a quarantine. Somebody even said they bombed Killeen and Amarillo last night."

"Idiots!" the woman down at his legs hissed. "It's a soil based organism and they're blowing tons of dirt up in the air! That's helpful!"

"Yeah," Stacey winced, then continued. "Anyway, Harley said we should hide here until things settle down and we have a better idea what's going on. I think he's as scared of running into the army as he is of the dead things."

"But...but what about Masonfield?"

"We don't know...we know some people got away, but...we don't know. I'm sorry, Benny.

Benny could hear the lie in her voice. It landed on his heart like a wet sack of cement. He lay his head back and closed his eyes.

Masonfield dead? Probably his wife, Corina, as well? The dead rising from the grave? Entire states being quarantined? His mind reeled at having to wake up to all of this at once. He wouldn't have believed it, but he could remember the things chasing Stacey himself. This was real. It was catastrophic. It was....biblical.

"It's the end of the world, isn't it..." he breathed. "Judgement Day is finally here..."

"No!" Stacey whispered fiercely and gripped his arm. "It ain't like that! Doc says this is like a plague or a disease. It's bad, but we can fight this thing. Right, Doc?"

"Humans are notorious for coming through cataclysms," the other woman muttered while she worked on his legs. "Hell, I think we create our own from time to time just to stay in practice. Don't ever rule us out."

"What she said," the girl affirmed. "We ain't licked yet. Just hang in with us, Benny. We'll make it through this. You'll see."

Benny didn't respond, still trying to absorb the enormity of it all.

"Benny?" She took him by the hand. "I know you're hurting...we all are...but we're going to get through this. You just rest up and get better, okay? We made it through last night, and now the storm is over. We'll find our way from here."

He stared at the ceiling, not knowing what to say.

"We need you, Bennie," Stacey continued, her face solemn once more. "I need you, and so does Marisa. Of course she'll never admit it, but she does. Hang in there for us, okay? Please?"

Whether she knew it or not, she hit every button that mattered. Even if it was the end of the world, Bennie wouldn't dream of not being there for them. They were the daughters he had never had...even if both of them were huge pains in the ass. Somebody had to keep them out of trouble.

And he doubted the two young rednecks he barely remembered were even close to being up to the task. They were going to need his help.

Starting now.

"It's okay, Chiquita," he sighed and gave her a weak smile. "I'll be okay. Don't worry. Whatever happens, I'll be there."

Epilogue- Rachel.

Rachel stepped out the front door of the country clinic and arched her weary back.

Benny Trujillo, Deke, and Stacey were now stitched up, and everybody had been given a shot of the antifungal medication. She had warned it might make them sick a day or two, but it was the most effective available. Now they all slept in the front office of the clinic. All in all, she allowed herself a small bit of self congratulation on a job well done.

Well, almost...

The sight of a small makeshift cross in the pasture across the barb wire fence caused her to wince in memory at her one "failure."

Grandpa Tom had made it. He had escaped with the rest of them. And when they had all staggered into the clinic after Harley jimmied the door, he had sank exhausted into the closest chair he could find. So had the others...except for Rachel who had dragged herself back into the doctor's office to use the internet to post warnings about the nature of the threat and grab all the medical information she could while the power still lasted. She had been at it about an hour when Marisa had come back and quietly told her that Grandpa Tom was dead.

He had simply drifted away in his sleep, right there in the chair.

Rachel could only console herself with the knowledge she couldn't have done anything for him anyway, and that he got to pass peacefully. That had to count as some kind of victory, didn't it? Compared to what might be in store for them, he may have gotten off lucky.

Because in truth, Stacey was wrong...the storm wasn't over.

It was just beginning.

Now that she had the time to focus and think without the distraction of possibly dying any given minute, she started to realize the enormity of what they faced.

It has to be a soil based fungus, because it got in the coffins first. But now it's out, and spreading like wildfire. A five hour window between its host killing somebody, and then that somebody getting up to kill as well, is a ridiculously fast incubation period. And I don't even know if that's the only vector for transmission. Not to mention, the ground itself has been infected.

Marisa had told her earlier how Harley predicted the spread to have already killed Masonfield, and how fast he thought this stuff could expand. After listening to his reasoning, then applying her own knowledge of disease transmission, she realized he had actually underestimated it. The proliferation would be geometric, and if the rumored quarantine failed then Benny's concern might be more realistic than they realized.

This could be apocalyptic.

Rachel hoped not. Not just for herself, but for the new young friends she had made over the course of this ordeal. She really wanted to see Deke and Stacey get an honest chance to see if they had a future together. And Marisa and Harley...she wasn't quite sure what to make of that pair. They were something, but she couldn't quite figure out what it was.

A glance over at the feed store side of the building revealed the two of them had made impromptu recliner couches out of feed bags at the front corner of the building. Now they stretched out side by side, snoring in the afternoon sun. Rachel figured after all they did last night, and having to dig a grave this morning, they had earned it.

Rachel decided she could let them sleep and attend to their injuries later. She had already given them the antifungal shot and that was what really counted.

Until then, her job was done.

Now she just stood in the parking lot, soaking up the sunshine. The air fairly steamed with humidity after the storm from last night, but she didn't care. Just standing in daylight again felt glorious. The warmth helped drive the memory of last night's chill further from her mind, and gave her a sense of hope.