The six of them sat around a card table that had been set up in the office of the former ranch house. With Devon and Sp
The six of them sat around a card table that had been set up in the office of the former ranch house. With Devon and Spencer, was Spencer’s older sister Emily. Like usual, she seemed hell bent to remind everyone how attractive her lean body was and today only a pair of mini shorts and a loose tank top graced her petite body. Like always, she had a bowl of food with her. It looked like a dozen hard boiled eggs this time.
Brown and Mitch had just arrived. Brown was somehow still wearing his leather trench coat and faded Stetson, despite the heat. Mitch ran his fingers through his graying beard before helping himself to a sip of tepid water.
Rollie had been the last person to arrive. His nick-name used to have something to do with what a good driver he was, but was now sadly more descriptive of his use of a wheelchair. Yes, Devon had been able to save Rollie’s life when he had been shot, but it was still unknown whether the man would regain use of his right leg.
When Devon pulled his chair closer, Mitch said, “We heard the gunshots, but I take it there’s something bigger going on than a few random Walkers.”
Devon looked over at the older man. After talking a deep breath, he answered. “Yeah, it was a pretty damn strange thing. This odd looking man was wearing all black and began shouting about how we were killing his friends.”
“And these friends were zombies?” Brown asked.
“Correct,” Devon answered. “And he felt strong enough about it to start shooting at me.”
Emily made a face, but it was Spencer that spoke next. “Yeah, the guy was totally nuts. Like bat-shit crazy. What sorto sicko is friends with a Walker?”
“A very lonely one,” Rollie answered.
“But part of this doesn’t make any sense,” Mitch said. “I mean was he out taking his undead friends for a walk?”
“Nothing about that guy made any sense,” Spencer tiffed, before grabbing up a brown shelled egg.
“No, Mitch’s right,” Brown began. “How could he be out here with zombies? Did he walk twenty miles through the desert always just staying a hundred feet ahead of them? And for what, to lead them against us. If he knew we were here, he would have to know that only three zombies wouldn’t be much of a threat.”
“Maybe he didn’t know we were here.” Emily said.
“That still wouldn’t explain how he got the zombies way out here,” Brown said.
“Maybe he is just a total nut job and they just happened to show up at the same time,” Spencer said. “He could just be some insane zombie lover that has totally lost his mind.”
Devon spoke up again. “But we found evidence that he might have come from San Miguel. That would mean crossing about sixty miles of serious desert to get here.”
“Crossing that kind of desert would nearly be impossible, with or without any zombie pals,” Mitch said.
“That’s just it,” Devon said. “I haven’t told you everything. After I sent Spike in to gather all of you. I walked back the direction the zombies had come from. Both their tracks and the tracks of our man in black both came from a vehicle. It was long gone, but the tire marks remained.”
“So what, wait,” Spencer said while holding up his hand. “He drove out her with three zombies, unbuckled them or whatever, and then sent them after us like we’re some sort of take out of something?”
“Spooky and… gross,” Emily said.
Brown spoke up again. “This is interesting. Let’s forget about why he hangs out with zombies and just think of the logistics of moving three zombies anywhere in a normal car. Admittedly he has had five years to perfect it, but it seemed like getting three flesh eating corpses tied into a car so out could take them for a Sunday drive—well, it just strikes me as far too dangerous to attempt, no matter how crazy one might be. And if you were crazy enough to try, you would end up being bitten before too long, one would think.”
“But why stop here?” Emily asked.
“We do have a lot of nice rides,” Rollie said. “He could have spotted them. A nut like that could certainly be living off in the boonies somewhere. He might want to look at what we have just to get the gas alone.”
“Yeah,” Mitch started, “and he could have sent the zombies in first to scare out any breathers, without risking getting shot himself. It could all make sense, in a bizarre and potentially very dangerous sort of way.”
“Somehow I can’t help thinking that there is more to it than that?” Devon said.
“Then the question is,” Brown said, while starring at him under the visor of his old hat. “If that is what you believe, what do you want to do about it?”