EYEHEARTZOMBIES

Jones was pushing the ambulance along at fifty miles an hour through the empty streets. The rain had slicked the roads a bit, so he kept the wheel as straight as the road would allow, not wanting the somewhat top heavy ambulance to flip over if he could help it. Mary usually drove the wagon, so he was a little nervous about it. He still couldn’t believe she was dead. Especially not in the way it had happened. He… he wouldn’t think of it. It was pointless to spend time worrying over the past.

The mist falling from the sky reduced visibility to a block at the most. He was leaned forward and squinting through the grime when he saw a moss colored shape start to form in the distance. Flashing lights made bright circles in the air and he let his foot up from the gas. The truck started slowing immediately and he barely put his foot down on the brake. Once he realized it actually WAS a roadblock, he pressed down harder and brought the truck to a stop a few yards away from the wooden blockade. Two men in olive drab uniforms were standing in his lane, their hands extended in the universal symbol for “stop.” He had already done that, but he figured they were just making sure.

When he hadn’t moved in a half minute or so, the one in back lowered his arm to cradle the butt of the rifle in his hand. The one in front waved for him to exit the vehicle and come over to where they were waiting. He tapped on the glass to tell Elijah. When he turned, the cabbie’s face filled the glass. He pointed at the soldiers then at his door. The man seemed to understand, so Jones nodded and exited the ambulance. He left it running, figuring this wouldn’t take too long.

The mist hit his skin as soon as he was out of the truck and he shivered. The two Army men were both wearing rain jackets the same green color as the rest of their uniform. They also had helmets on their heads, upturned bowls of green painted with up-pointing arrows. Jones supposed those showed rank, but he didn’t have any clue what one sign meant over another. He’d never cared for the military. He’d rather save lives than take them, or further the war machine by repairing those it chewed up and spat back out. Still, he couldn’t make it down the street without dealing with this particular group of Army men. He sighed and walked over to the closest soldier.

“Hello, sir,” the soldier said, his face impassive.

“Hey,” Jones answered. Neither man offered or expected a hand. “I’ve got a patient in the ambulance. I need to get through as quick as possible.” The soldier’s eyes perked up at the mention of a patient.

“An injury, then?” Jones nodded and the man continued. “What kind of injury? What caused it?” His eyes were still shining and Jones noticed that his partner had come closer at the mention of an injury.

“Yeah, obviously injured,” Jones answered. He didn’t trust this. Something seemed fishy. “I mean, why would I have someone in the back of the truck without them being injured? I don’t transport healthy people, you know.” He made it a point to avoid telling them more than he absolutely had to.

“We understand what your job is, sir. Can you answer the questions, though? What kind of injury?” The soldier’s face had gotten harder, not liking the obvious lack of information. His eyes still glowed with…. What? Anticipation? Anxiety? Excitment? Jones wasn’t sure, and wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“A leg injury. A… cut… in the calf. Nothing serious, but needing more attention than I can give it.” He answered slowly, carefully checking his words before saying them. He suddenly had a feeling that they were more interested in Elijah than they should be, even if they had known about the accident. He had a worse feeling that it was the INJURY they cared the most about. Why would soldiers be so… fascinated… with a simple injury.

The second soldier spoke up now. Jones noticed that neither of them were wearing nametags. He thought all army uniforms had those badges sewn on them above the pocket. This was even more confusing and suspicious. “We’ll need to see the vict — patient before you can pass through.” He started moving around the first soldier toward the truck. Jones moved over to block his way.

“Why? I mean, why do you need to see him? No, before that, why is there a roadblock here? I mean, this is America, you can’t just stop people in the middle of the road. You can’t just search the ambulance, either. It’s the property of Eden Medical Center, a privately-owned hospital.” He was starting to get angry and he knew that was a bad idea when the military were involved. He couldn’t help himself right now, though. This invasion of his life was just too far beyond his tolerance level.

“Sir, just cooperate and everything will go much smoother. We just need to check on your patient and make sure he’s safe to allow to travel. As soon as we do that, you can be on you way.” The first soldier answered him this time. He had been about to put a hand on Jones’ chest but seemed to have decided against it halfway through the motion. He tried to make it look like he was just gesturing, but Jones knew better. This was moments away from getting violent, he feared.

Jones stepped back a step to look at the soldiers again in a fuller picture. Such boring, non-marked uniforms almost made him feel they weren’t really military. Maybe some local militia or something. He didn’t want to take the chance, though. The government had been giving more and more civil power to the military in the last few years. Jones had been a bone-level Democrat for as long as he could remember and the idea of trained-to-kill military police roaming the streets gave him the heebie-jeebies.

He looked around quickly. Orange-striped wooden horse blockades with “US” stamped on them in large stensil letters. Two Jeeps sat on each sidewalk, one green and one tan. A large black tent was set up on the other side of the street, too, and people were milling around it and a freestanding antennae just outside of it. Jones guessed there were computers and radio equipment in the tent. If it was a fake, it was a damn good one.

“Sir? Is there going to be a problem?” Both soldiers were standing in front of him, presenting themselves as a solid wall of military strength. He knew he wouldn’t be able to jump in the ambulance and get away. It wasn’t made for going fast or breaking through anything resembling a blockade. He was pretty sure they wouldn’t just stand by while he drove through their camp, either.

“No, no problem. Just thinking. By the way, what should I call you?” He looked at the soldiers square in the face, trying to look friendly. It didn’t seem to work. Both soldiers’ faces stayed slack and uninterested in him, but coldly set on seeing what they wanted in the back of his truck.

“You can call us ‘Sir,’ of course. If you need names, I’m sorry but that will have to wait for another time. This operation is here for the safety of the city and the guidelines for it don’t allow us to discuss personal matters.” The soldier on the left, the first one he had talked to, answered him quietly and quickly. He then put a hand on Jones’ shoulder and pushed him gently to the side. The other soldier nodded curtly and followed his fellow soldier. They walked alongside the ambulance and came quickly to the back doors. Jones followed behind them, feeling a little like a chastised puppy.

“Is this locked?” the first soldier asked. He had one hand on the handles of the back doors and didn’t look over at Jones, expecting obedience.

Jones paused, not wanting to comply with such blatant disregard for his rights and the rights of his employer, then gave in, realizing his disobedience wouldn’t prevent anything. In a few more seconds they’d simply try the door themselves and probably take the keys from him if they found it locked. Forcibly, he was certain. “No, it shouldn’t be,” he said quietly.

The officer nodded and twisted both handles away from each other. They turned easily and he pulled the doors toward him. Light from the overhead lamps in the back of the ambulance spilled out and illuminated the faces of the two soldiers. The day was still dreary, but the wind and rain were both calming down. It was dark out here in the street, though, and Jones figured it wouldn’t brighten up at all before night fell. Elijah was sitting at the far end. The soldiers looked at him for a few moments.

“Sir?” the first one called. “Sir, can you come out of the ambulance?” Elijah’s face looked worried, but he started to slide around the benches toward the door. Jones didn’t trust this, but he didn’t have any reason he could explain, or any way to get them out of it, so he had to just let it play out. Elijah had reached the door and the soldiers had stopped him there.

“Sir, just stay in the ambulance. There’s no reason for you to go to such trouble, especially when you’ve been hurt. Can you tell us about the wound?” The second soldier climbed up into the other side of the ambulance and sat across from Elijah. Elijah swallowed and nodded.

“Well, officer, I — ” The first soldier cut him off.

“No need to address me as officer. ‘Sir’ will do fine.”

“Oh, OK. Sir, I was driving my cab earlier and, because of the rain, couldn’t see very well.” He still seemed very nervous and Jones was afraid his anxiety would put the soldiers even further on edge. If they were on edge, that was. He still couldn’t tell exactly what was going on.

“You’re cab driver, then?”

“Yeah, yeah. I was driving and I couldn’t see very well. A girl, some little girl, stepped out in front of my cab and I couldn’t see so I hit her.” Elijah swallowed again, the gulp loud enough for Jones to hear standing behind the soldier that was still on the ground. He smiled a nervous smile and nodded again, a nervous habit apparently. “And then I carried her into the library. I probably shouldn’t have, but you can’t rewrite the past, huh?” He smiled at the soldiers each in turn. They didn’t smile back as far as Jones could see.

The soldier in the ambulance waved his hand impatiently. “Go on. We don’t care if you should have moved her or not. What happened next?” Elijah nodded again and continued his story, telling how the power had went out and the ambulance had come with the two paramedics. The soldiers turned and looked at Jones at that point.

“Two paramedics, sir?” the one on the ground asked. “What happened to the other?” His arms were crossed on his chest but Jones felt that he wanted to rest a hand on the pistol at his hip. Seeing the gun made him think of the other soldier’s rifle. He didn’t see it now, but he didn’t remember him setting it down. Maybe it was in the ambulance were he couldn’t see.

Jones shrugged and gestured to Elijah in the cab. “The girl he brought in died. She…,” he trailed off, not sure whether he should tell them about the girl coming back to murderous life. The girl and Mary, that is.

“Continue your story, sir,” the standing soldier said, now resting one hand on his pistol’s holster. “What did she do? She was dead, wasn’t she? How could she DO anything after she was dead?” His face was colder than Jones had seen it so far, and he had been sure the soldier was carved from marble earlier. Jones’ eyes flickered around and he saw that the soldier in the van had indeed had the rifle in there with him. It was now sitting on his lap and he was staring at Jones as hard as his partner was.