FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS
"So, where are we going?" Little Rock asked.
The five survivors glanced around at each other. They had left Pacific Playland about twenty minutes ago and had driven along in considerable silence for most of that time. Now, with Wichita behind the wheel, Little Rock riding shotgun, and Winnfield, Columbus and Tallahassee in the back, choosing a destination seemed like a good idea.
"Ladies' choice," Tallahassee suggested, "and seeing as you two have already picked ... Winnfield? It's out of you and Columbus."
Ignoring the childish insult, Columbus looked at Winnfield and gave a small nod: her choice.
"Alright, looks like we're headin' for my home state," she announced.
"Which would be...?" Wichita asked.
"Louisiana," the three in the back replied in unison.
"For future reference, I only need one of you to answer. It's less creepy that way," Wichita frowned, though she had found it sort of cute.
"Do you have family there?" Columbus asked Winnfield after a few moments silence.
She nodded and then cocked her head to the side. "Well, possibly."
"Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean..." Wichita trailed off, not wanting to be too direct in case it came across sounding heartless; but Winnfield knew what she was getting at.
"Maybe it's not a good idea," she said, "Maybe, instead, we should go to a big ol' amusement park when it's dark, and then turn all the lights on. That won't attract zombies or anything."
"Alright, you made your point. It's just ..."
"How can I be sure there'll be any family left to find?"
Wichita nodded.
"If I know my brothers well enough, they'll be alright. My oldest brother, Lewis" –she didn't seem to care that she had divulged a real name here – "He moved to a little town outside Baton Rouge, just because it's called 'Slaughter'.
"'Welcome to the town of Slaughter'. Yeah, I could see that," Tallahassee thought aloud. Winnfield rolled her eyes playfully.
"How old are your brothers?" Wichita asked casually. A little too casually, Columbus thought.
With a furrowed brow and pursed lips, Winnfield did her best to recall the correct answer.
"Thirty-three and twenty...nine? Something like that."
"And you said you're the youngest? Aww, you're just a baby, then," Tallahassee said.
"I wouldn't call twenty-six 'a baby'."
"Twenty-six?" Columbus asked.
"Do I not look that old?"
"It's not ... I just thought ... You're not that much older than me, then."
Winnfield shrugged in a way that asked what his point was. He waved his hand to dismiss his own comment, and then went back to staring out the window.
"Which way do you want to go?" Wichita asked when they came to a large road sign that suggested multiple exits out of L.A.
"According to this map, we could take the I-15 and then change to the I-40 a few miles up," Columbus suggested, glancing over the map he had found in 'Le Mansion de Murray'.
"Nah, take the I-10," Winnfield told her, "That'll lead take us back the way we came. At least we know that there weren't many zombies along that road."
"Could that not have changed in the last couple of days?" Columbus asked. "Besides, if we take the I-40, we'll avoid going through any major towns or cities for a while."
"But we'll end up driving along the Mojave."
"So?"
"Which way is it?" Wichita asked, growing steadily impatient with their bickering.
"Just take the I-40," Winnfield sighed.
An hour later they were cruising along Columbus' chosen route with very little to do. 'I-Spy' wasn't very fun when all you had to choose from were 'road', 'sky' and 'barren landscape'.
"I could really go for a steak right now," Tallahassee said.
"Tell me you're kidding," Winnfield frowned.
"A nice, big, juicy steak, medium-rare - "
"With a side of zombification?" Columbus asked.
"Speaking of food," Wichita said, as Tallahassee continued to daydream about the lunch he wished he was having, "Do we have any?"
There was an awkward silence before they realised that after all the surviving they had just done, they were now on an empty desert highway without any food or much water, and without a grocery store or gas station for miles.
"I think we should look for a mall," Little Rock suggested, only to receive disapproving looks from those in the car who had seen Dawn of the Dead.
"All we need is food. And a few medical supplies probably wouldn't hurt, either," Winnfield told her, before turning to look in the back of the car. "We seem to be pretty well stocked in the random crap department."
"Hey, that stuff is not crap!" said Tallahassee, returning her disapproving stare.
She reached back and pulled out a novelty-sized Baby Ruth bar, giving him a look that read 'No, not at all'. She threw it back and borrowed the roadmap from Columbus.
"You got a marker?" she asked him.
They met a few lone zombies along the highway, which they ran down without stopping, and also spotted a few crushed corpses by the side of the road – a sight which gave them hope that maybe they weren't alone after all. But if any survivors had come this way before them, they had passed on to a better place.
As the buildings began to grow closer together and there seemed to be less surrounding desert, the group kept their eyes peeled for somewhere to stop. They were dying for a toilet break since they had been drinking so much in an attempt to keep their hunger at bay, but by now there were growling stomachs all around.
"There haven't really been many zombies around on the roads," Columbus commented, "Does anyone else find that weird?"
"Are you complaining?" Wichita replied.
He shook his head, but he was right – the roads were eerily empty. It was as though someone had gone through and cleared out the living dead for them, like a protective convoy that they couldn't see and could never catch up to.
"I never did see any army cars or soldiers or anything like that. You'd think that they would have been out dealing with all this," Wichita thought aloud.
"We found a tank," Columbus told her, smiling as he recalled Winnfield's suggestion to drive it through the streets and blast anything they came across. "Just after you guys, uh, stole our car."
"Yeah, sorry about that."
"Sure," Tallahassee sniffed, as if he was still hadn't forgiven the sisters for making off with his self-modified Cadillac.
"Hey, I think I see some stores up ahead," Columbus announced, pointing past a row of houses, down towards the end of a street they now found themselves approaching.
They parked a short way down from the line of stores to give themselves some running space in case they came across a crowd of undead-shoppers. A run-in seemed unlikely in this particular neighbourhood, but it was a precaution that would pay-off should they find themselves surrounded and in need of a chance to create some distance.
As soon as they left the car, they spread out in a horizontal line with Wichita and Tallahassee on the far left and far right respectively, keeping an eye on the surrounding alleyways and front yards, while Winnfield ran on ahead to scout out the street corners.
"All clear," she called back to them. They jogged up to meet her, keeping their weapons pressed close to them, and began their shopping experience from the leftmost store, which happened to be bakery. The shopfront was splattered with blood and a dark, thick material that they would rather not have to think about too much. Moving on to the next shop, they found a small boutique that was more than likely filled with overpriced jewellery and, for some unknown reason, dozens of pairs of leather driving gloves. Once again, they skipped it and moved on. Tallahassee and Winnfield, who had managed to get ahead of the others, stopped in front of the next store simultaneously, though for very different reasons.
"Aphrodite's Closet," Wichita read from the store's front door, "Tacky name."
Whilst she and Little Rock moved on, Columbus paused, momentarily mesmerised by the mannequins in the window which were clad in the laciest, 'barely-there' undergarments he had ever seen. He had never thought that he could ever be attracted to an inanimate object – though at one stage he had feared he might end up one of those boys with only 'polyester girls' for company – but these mannequins were quite detailed.
Finally urging himself to follow the real flesh-and-blood girl of his dreams, he risked a quick glance at Winnfield, who was staring intently into the store. Tallahassee was looking from her, to the lingerie and then back again, as if waiting to see if she would go inside the store for a better look. If she did decide to, he would be going with her...for defensive purposes only, of course.
"Come on you guys!" Little Rock called from the grocery store at the far end of the lot. She and her sister had managed to wedge open the previously-automatic doors and were keeping them ajar with a few massive bags of dog food they had found piled at the front of the store.
Winnfield stepped up to the glass and cupped her hands on either side of her face for a better look inside. It was then that Tallahassee realised she wasn't considering which silk teddy she would look best in; something was up.
"What do you see?" Columbus asked, moving back towards her, his grip tightening on his gun.
"I thought..."
Through the dark gloom of the store, all was still. She was sure that something had moved in there. But maybe several hours cooped up in a car on a desert highway, without any food, had something to do with that.
"Guess not," she decided. She suddenly scrunched her face into an expression of discomfort.
"What is wrong with you?" Tallahassee asked, giving her a strange look.
"My bladder is about to burst," she replied. She looked around and spotted a public toilet block not too far from where they were. Little Rock followed her gaze and then hopped nimbly over the makeshift doorstopper
"Bathroom break," she agreed quickly, heading towards the public block.
Columbus' third rule for surviving Zombieland began flashing in his mind like a giant Broadway sign: BEWARE OF BATHROOMS!
Catching his worried expression, Winnfield said, "I doubt we'll run into anything in there. I mean, zombies are more the roaming type."
"Marauding," Tallahassee corrected her, "Marauding for flesh."
"Right. Besides, I've seen more horrifying things than zombies in public restrooms..."
They hurried after Little Rock, who fast approached the small brick building, and hesitated outside, taking in the peeling paint and roof covered in bird-droppings, before splitting up and heading towards the appropriate entrances. Columbus decided to go in first for once, raising his weapon to meet whatever might lay in wait ahead of him. The men's' room was empty, but the flickering light inside only added to the creepy atmosphere.
In the ladies' room, Winnfield fared just as well, though she found herself hoping that the dark smears on the walls actually were zombie blood. She, Wichita and Little Rock screwed up their faces as they saw how dirty the bathroom was; but they had little other choice. No one particularly felt like venturing into one of the suburban homes, where real danger was most likely prowling.
"Urgh, I know we're in the middle of an apocalypse, but really?" Wichita said, checking one of the stalls and looking back to the others with her hand clamped over her mouth and nose.
"This one down the end is the cleanest," she told them, "But that's not saying much."
Winnfield, who had gone first, since she was making even weirder faces of discomfort by that time, waited outside for the two sisters to finish up. She found Columbus leaning back against the wall by the entrance to the men's room, looking quite thoughtful.
"Seen anything?" she asked him as she walked over.
"No," he replied, "It's weird, you know? I keep thinking maybe they've, like, congregated somewhere and this massive horde will just come running around the corner at any moment."
Winnfield chuckled. "'Congregated'? Like they're organised?"
Columbus smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Who knows what they're capable of?"
"What did I miss?" a voice asked very close to Winnfield's ear, warm breath tickling her neck. She jumped and spun around.
"Jeee-sus, Hass! You wanna end up like your friend Mr. Murray?"
"Alright, let's do this," Wichita said as she and Little Rock came out from the restroom. Winnfield jabbed Tallahassee in the side with her elbow and followed them back to the grocery store.
A horrific stench hit them the moment they ventured inside. Since they were all fairly familiar with the smell of corpses and zombie muck by this point, they quickly discerned that they weren't about to be faced with a scene of mass slaughter. It was the stomach-churning stench of off milk. Winnfield actually gagged.
"Let's be quick about this, shall we?" she suggested, receiving nods of mutual agreement.
Spotting a rack of neckerchiefs, she grabbed one and tied it over her face, bandit-style. Stepping back in line with the others, she looked determinedly towards the back of the store, now ready to face the vomit-inducing smell throughout the rest their shopping experience.
"You look like you're about to rob a bank," Columbus told her. She threw him a sideways glance, cocked her gun, and started for the first aisle.
Ten minutes later, they emerged from the store laden with several bags of supplies. Despite the sour milk smell following them through every aisle, the majority of their harvest was actually cereal, which had the advantages of being both lighter and more convenient than cans of food – especially once you divided it into smaller, portion-sized bags – and kept for a surprisingly long time.
Since Little Rock was the only one not carrying anything, she now had the role of lookout, though if any danger were to present itself, they would all have dropped their bags and drawn their guns. They weren't about to make a twelve year-old take on a zombie by herself.
Tallahassee, who was already outside the store, held his hand out to Winnfield as she stepped up onto the mound of pet-food bags. Smiling, she pulled the neckerchief down off her face and accepted, allowing him to help her down.
"Okay, so if we keep taking turns driving, we should be in Louisiana by tomorrow night," Columbus said as they all headed back to the car.
Then they froze.
The ominous tolls of a church bell echoed through the empty town.
"What is that?" Little Rock asked, managing to cover up most of the fear that was slowly spreading through her.
"Did anyone see any churches on the way in?" Winnfield asked.
Columbus shook his head, gazing off in the direction he thought the sound might be coming from.
"Alright," she said, "We'll dump this stuff in the car, and then the three of us will go check it out."
"The three of us?" Wichita asked.
"Columbus, Tallahassee and myself," Winnfield replied, adjusting the weight of her bag of groceries, which was balanced on her hip like a small child.
"Wait, why do we have to stay behind?" Little Rock frowned.
"Someone has to watch the car," Winnfield lied. Her real concern was leading such a young girl into either a scene of mass carnage, or otherwise into some kind of danger involving crazed survivors that had been forced into fear and isolation. Even though Little Rock had already been exposed to some pretty horrible things, if she could prevent a kid from having to witness anything more, she would take that opportunity.
"What do you think it is?" Columbus asked as the three amigos headed off on their investigative expedition.
"Sanctuary! Sanctuary!" Winnfield replied, spreading her arms out above her head. Tallahassee gave her a weird look. "The Hunchback of Notre Dame? No?" she tried.
"I think you might have spent a bit too much time up on that roof by yourself," he told her.
They crossed over a small intersection and spotted the church, an old brown-brick building that had probably been hand-built by the first townspeople centuries ago. There were a couple of cars parked on the road in front of it, neither of which looked in any way damaged. The three glanced at each other.
"Could mean more survivors," Winnfield said.
"Yeah, well we aren't taking in any more strays," Tallahassee replied.
"Gee, thanks."
"Not what I meant," he said, raising his hands in defence.
"Wanna take different entrances?" he suggested. They considered this for a moment and then decided that it was probably a good idea. Start at different ends and then meet in the middle; all bases covered.
"Can we have a code word in case one of us gets into trouble?" Winnfield asked.
"How 'bout 'Holy shit, there's a zombie over here!'" Tallahassee replied.
Winnfield frowned. "I'm not going to say 'Holy shit in a church. What kind of person do you think I am?"
"If one of us yells, I'm sure we'll figure it out," Columbus told them. At this point he was itching to get inside. In the past he would have avoided this kind of potentially dangerous situation, but ever since his heroics at Pacific Playland, he had begun to realise that maybe he was braver than he thought.
"I'll take the back entrance," he said.
Tallahassee chuckled immaturely at this, though over the sound of the church bells it was barely audible. What they did hear, though, was a sudden shout from above.
"Hey!"
They spun around to face the bell tower, shielding their eyes from the harsh midday sun. The caller was a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties. He waved down at them from a window just below the row of bells that dangled from the very top of the tower. In his free hand he held a rifle in his, but he didn't appear to want to use it on them.
"Uh, hi," Columbus replied.
"You scared the shit out of us!" Winnfield called to him.
"What?" he asked.
"I said you scared the shit out of us!"
"What? Sorry," the man said, "I can't hear you over the bells."
Winnfield cupped her hand to her ear to show that she hadn't heard him.
"The bells!" he shouted.
She rolled her eyes and nodded to him that this was obvious. He gestured for them to wait a moment, and then disappeared from the window.
Tallahassee, who was steadily becoming suspicious of the whole situation, raised his gun and stared at the door at the bottom of the tower. Of course, since he had found Winnfield by herself the first time they had met, he didn't really have any reason to mistrust someone simply for being a lone survivor.
The chiming had stopped now, much to the relief of their ears, and the heavy, wooden door creaked on its rusty hinges as it was pushed slowly open.
Tallahassee put his hand on Winnfield's shoulder and stepped up in front of her- a gesture she found slightly offensive, as though he thought she couldn't defend herself. Apparently kissing someone made them suddenly in need of your protection.
"Whoa, what's with the gun?" the man asked him, holding a hand up to show he didn't mean any harm.
After a brief moment's thought, Tallahassee lowered his weapon.
"I tell you," the man continued, throwing a cautious glance at him before turning his attention to Winnfield, who looked the calmest of the three, "It's nice to see some living faces. I wanted to stop you all from goin' inside the church. Ain't nothing you want to see in there, believe me."
"What's in there?" Columbus asked, curiosity getting the better of him, though he looked concerned about what the answer might be.
The man shook his head in a sorrowful way and looked over at the quiet church building. "About thirty or so people decided that a church is a real fine place to barricade themselves during a crisis like this. Only they didn't realise that a bunch of them had been bitten by these things. So, as you can imagine..."
He shook his head once more.
"Jesus."
"Right you are," he said. "They made it so nothing could get in, but in the end none of them got out."
"How did you survive?" asked Winnfield.
"Sheer dumb luck, that's how. I decided at the last minute to go back for my rifle and came back to find that they'd locked me out. Most of 'em were hysterical by then, and there's no reasoning with people when they're like that, you know?"
She nodded, recalling the last few moments as she had driven out of her neighbourhood in her brother's car; people running themselves into literal dead-ends, screaming and giving up their whole world for lost. Throw humanity into chaos and suddenly everyone loses the ability to function.
"So I headed on up to the tower, locked myself in and settled up under the bells. It's a real nice sort of bird's nest to shoot from. The sound took a bit of getting used to, though." He ran a hand through his receding, pale-red hair.
"Are they...automated?" Winnfield asked, unable to see how anyone could be bothered to ring the bells manually.
"Oh, yeah. I set them to ring at noon every day. It used to bring in a lot of ghouls, but I think I've just about cleared them out. I've got the whole place to myself, pretty much." He smiled and scratched thoughtfully at his whiskered jaw. "Where are you guys headed?"
Before she answered, Winnfield received a warning look from Tallahassee: No more strays. Not that they had any room in their car, anyway, but she agreed. Going from no attachments to four had been a harder process than it appeared. But as easy as it was to be a lone wolf, being in a pack had its advantages – mainly the fact that you got to talk to someone other than yourself.
"We're headed east, actually."
"Don't tell me it's 'cause you heard that there aren't any villains down that way."
Doing her best to push out the images of evil cloaked men with pencil-moustaches running around the eastern states, Winnfield managed to shake her head. She threw Columbus and Tallahassee knowing looks; they were well and truly past that stage by now. East, west, north, south; it didn't matter – zombies weren't known to abide by hearsay.
"Well, good luck. Like I said, it's just nice to see some actual people passin' through."
"We're the first you've seen?"
"Oh no, a few have passed through, actually. Yeah," he nodded, slowly turning back towards his awaiting tower. With those few words, hope suddenly found its way back to Winnfield; hope and relief. All this time she had thought they were the only people left in all of the US. When she thought about it now it seemed kind of silly.
"Oh, also", he said, turning back as he stood in the doorway, "Feel free to help yourselves to any supplies around the town. I'm pretty well stocked up."
He smiled, nodded and made his exit, pulling the door closed and sliding across a heavy deadbolt.
"Well that was-"
"Weird?" Columbus tried.
"I was going to say 'interesting', but that did feel kind of surreal," replied Winnfield, "What are the odds, huh?"
"What, did you think we were the only ones left?" Tallahassee asked them.
"I would've cried for humanity," Columbus replied.
"You would cry over anything, Shirley," Tallahassee said, slipping his free hand into Winnfield's.