'Til Death Do Us Part

PROLOGUE TWO

The slight woman and the stocky man walked across the parking lot as the sun blazed down. The four truck drivers watched as they approached.

“How stupid do you think they are?” Al, at twenty-eight, the youngest of the group asked.

“I guess we’ll see,” their self-appointed leader Kong replied.

He had been a decent man when the world still made sense. But these were not normal times; he would, and had done, all it took to survive and even thrive, including some things that were not necessary. Without the possibility of paying for his crimes, he had taken advantage of numerous situations.

Even from across the parking lot he could tell that the woman was beautiful, but there was something else there…something cold, deadly. He involuntarily shivered.

“She’s fucking hot!” the third driver, Dom, said. “Can I have her after you, Kong?”

Kong wanted to say he could have her first and that he was getting the hell out of there, but he stayed put against his better judgment. Her beauty only intensified as she approached, but so did his feelings of unease. She stopped no more than ten feet from where the men stood. Kong could tell from the men’s posturing that they were feeling differing forms of unease just as he was.

“Are those your trucks?” the woman asked.

“What’s it to you?” Dom asked.

Kong noticed the woman’s eyebrows furrow.

“I have a proposition,” the woman stated.

“I’ve got your fucking proposition right here!” Dom yelled, grabbing his crotch.

Randy, the fourth—and thus far, silent—driver, spoke with laughter in his voice as his 6 foot 5, 315 pound frame approached the woman, “I’d probably break her in half.”

“Let’s hear what she has to say,” Kong said, placing his hand on Randy’s shoulder.

Randy shrugged it off. “Fuck you, man. I’ll listen to what she says after I break a piece of that off. You got a problem with that?” Randy shouted as he pointed at the stocky youth that had come with the woman.

The young man merely smiled sadly. For some reason, that scared the shit out of Kong. Randy’s steps began to falter as he got closer to the woman. She did not move a muscle; even her hair seemed unaffected by the wind. Kong noticed that she was somehow above the earthly elements.

“I’m...I’m glad you’re not running,” Randy said as he started fumbling around with his fly. “I hate when they run. Oh, I catch them…always. It’s just that I’m usually sweaty by then, and then I ain’t so nice. You know what I mean?” Randy asked with a leer as he pulled his penis free from his pants. “Like what you see?”

The woman, without looking down, reached her hand out.

“Yeah, baby, that’s what I’m talking about,” Randy said as he looked heavenward in anticipation.

His high pitched screams started shortly after his dismembered member landed with a wet slap on the pavement.

“Are we ready to talk?” the woman asked as she wiped her hand on Randy’s shirt before effortlessly pushing him over.

His screams became a crescendo before they started to tail off into sobs of pain. Shock and blood loss were beginning to take their toll.

“Fuck, Kong, she ripped his cock off!” Al was screaming as he began to back up.

Dom was dry-heaving. Only Kong was holding his ground.

“You the leader?” the woman asked Kong as she stepped over Randy who was now wrapped up in the fetal position.

He nodded quickly, wishing that, after he had shot his infected girlfriend, he had turned the gun on himself. Anything would have been better than staring into those twin pools of death.

“I have a proposition,” she stated again.

“And if I refuse?” Kong asked.

The woman looked back at the huddled form of Randy.

“I’m listening,” he told her.

And an hour later, when they were done talking, there were some absolute truths. First and foremost, Kong was confident in the fact that he had just made a deal with the devil.

Eliza stepped on Randy’s dried husk of manhood as she walked away.

“Where we going to get more truckers?” Al asked Kong.

“I’ve got an idea about that. Shouldn’t really be a problem,” he told the younger man.

“Do you really think these work?” Dom asked as he held out the small vial Eliza had given them all.

Kong was absently rubbing his fingers over the vial he now wore around his neck. He didn’t know for sure, but he was going to check because, if they didn’t, he was going to consider their agreement null and void. Then he was going to go as far west as he could before driving into the ocean.

“Come on, Al, you ride with me,” Kong said.

“You want me to leave my rig here?” Al asked.

“Yeah. I just want to check something out, and the quieter we go in, the better.”

“Sure,” Al answered, but he wasn’t comfortable with it at all.

“What do you want me to do?” Dom asked.

“Get rid of Randy’s body. We’ll be right back,” Kong told him.

“You want me to bury the fat fuck? It’ll take me hours to dig something deep enough,” Dom replied.

“Did I say to bury him? Just get the body out of the middle of the parking lot. We’re going to have dozens of trucks in here. I don’t need someone squashing his lard ass all over the place.”

Dom lit a cigarette. “Fine, but I’m not touching his pecker.”

“Not much to worry about there anyway,” Kong said.

Kong and Al drove a few miles until Kong found what he was looking for: a small band of zombies wandering the neighborhood. They were still far off, but the sound of the huge diesel Mack engine was drawing them in like gypsies to a rhinestone festival.

“Hey, Al, can I see that new gun you lifted off that guy the other day?” Kong asked. Al handed him the piece. “She sure is a beaut,” Kong said as he looked at the extended barrel Colt .45. “Loaded too,” he said as he looked into the cylinder. “Get out.” Kong pointed the revolver at Al’s forehead.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Al said as he put his hands up and licked his lips nervously.

“A test. Get out. I’m not going to say it again.”

“Come on, man, we’re friends and shit,” Al said, sweat popping out all over his face as he looked out the window to the approaching zombies. “Come on, man, you can’t really believe this little vial of shit is going to stop them, do you?”

“Well Eliza sure seems to think that it will. If it does, then I have to honor my end of the agreement. I’ll be honest, I’m really kind of hoping that it doesn’t so I can get the fuck out of here.”

“If it doesn’t work, Kong, I’m dead.”

“Yeah…sucks for you. Get out.”

“Kong, man, please? We’re friends.”

Kong pulled the hammer back on the revolver. “I’ve known you for two weeks. I’ve had a sore on the inside of my lip for longer. Don’t make me have to clean your brains up out of my truck.”

Al hesitated a moment longer as he stared down the barrel of his own gun. “You’re a fucking asshole,” he said as he jumped down off the truck and started sprinting for the nearest house.

Kong reached over and shut his passenger door—locking it for good measure—and then proceeded to watch the show. The zombies changed their angle of pursuit as Al crossed the street and went to the first house he could. Kong snickered as Al frantically pulled on the security door. Al first looked back towards the truck to see if Kong was going to help, then went further down the street.

“Should have told the fucker to stand still. My fault,” Kong said as he slowly backed the truck up to keep pace with the fleeing Al.

Al had only been a truck driver for five years, but they had been rough years on his body. He ate fast food and drank to excess while on the road and it showed; he was running out of steam by the time he figured he was not going to gain entry in the second house either. The zombies had closed to within twenty feet. Al turned to meet his fate, fists upraised as if that were going to stop the swarm. Then, just as they got within teeth-snapping distance, they stopped.

The closer ones began sniffing the air all around Al.

“Son of a bitch, the shit works,” Kong said almost silently as he tucked in the precious vial under his shirt.

Al kept ducking his head and rapidly blinking his eyes as the zombies gathered all around him, the newcomers having to check out his edibility factor. Some lost interest quickly when they realized he wasn’t food. A few others lingered, fundamentally knowing that they should be able to eat him but couldn’t.

The zombies approached the truck as Kong stepped down. He held his guns up as the zombies got close. His heart was racing, and he killed two that approached a little too close for comfort. He stopped when they seemed to get the same confused look he had seen with the ones around Al. Again the majority lost interest and left. A few smarter ones lingered. Kong thought maybe they were wondering if they could get around whatever spell was holding them back. He gave them a .45 caliber lead injection against any future inquisitiveness.

He approached Al slowly, constantly looking around to make sure none of the zombies were sneaking up on him. He handed Al his weapon back.

“Let’s go,” Kong said as if nothing had happened.

Al was close to tears. He was leaning over and bringing in heavy breaths as he reached out and grabbed the gun. Standing up straight, he pointed the weapon at Kong. “I should fucking kill you!” he spat.

“Go ahead. I’d fucking deserve it.” Kong turned back to his truck.

The .45 was shaking wildly as Al wrestled within himself against the anger, fear, and betrayal. He eventually followed Kong to the big rig, not saying a word as Kong unlocked the door and let him in.

Dom was inside his truck smoking a cigarette when the duo returned. He got out when he saw Al get down.

“What’s the matter? You look like shit,” Dom said as Al stormed past.

“The vials work,” Kong told him. “Time to get some drivers.”

“Shit,” Dom said, grinding the cigarette under his boot as he realized what had transpired.