Timothy Long - Beyond the Barriers

The zombies had no brain, no pulse, no life. They were the walking dead, as improbable as that sounds. They were an abomination—a thing that should not exist. They were an offense against nature. These ghouls were worse; they were like the dead, only they had a brain of sorts. To my surprise, the ghoul beneath me was moving. His lungs rose and fell as he breathed.

What the hell were these things?

With the unconscious and stinking ghoul between us, we made our way back to the camp. We had to drag him, and at first I didn’t like the idea of his filthy skin touching mine. I was on the right and Scott on the left. The closer we got to the base, the more I wanted to put a bullet in this thing’s brain and leave him to rot.

Scott didn’t say much; he just grunted as we dragged the man. He glanced at the ghoul from time to time, and then at me. I didn’t offer any thoughts. I wasn’t even sure what had possessed me to capture the creature. A ghoul. I supposed that if I were a bastard, I could torture this thing. I didn’t relish the thought; I had no desire to do it. I had met people who could do it. I had met men who would grin and shake my hand, maybe clap me on the shoulder, and then go on to their torture devices.

My hand was on fire where I had brushed the burning grass. Adrenaline had helped me ignore the pain, but now it was back. My palm felt rough, and I was pretty sure there were blisters. I hoped the damage was minimal. It was hard to see, though, because my right hand was covered in soot. I wished I had a container of ice-cold water I could pour on the burn. And while I was wishing for stuff, I wished I were on vacation in the Bahamas with no zombies around.

“You guys have anything to drink back at the camp?” I asked Scott.

“A little. We got some cheap whiskey, the kind that comes in plastic jugs, but we save that shit for special occasions. Some days I would kill for a shot of tequila.”

“Drink of choice?”

“I’m Latino. What the hell do you think I like, Bud Light?”

“Name like Scott, that’s real Latino.”

“Mom thought it would be cool if we had names that fit into American society better. My sister is named Mary—or she was. I don’t know if she’s alive. I have a brother named Sean, and it’s spelled with an E-A just like Sean Connery. I think she liked his James Bond the best.”

“Who doesn’t?”

The thing between us stirred; his legs kicked. I considered smacking him upside the head again, but I was worried about killing him before we got back. We were across the field, and, when I looked back, the smoke was rising into the sky. I wondered how much of my old block I had just torched. At least the houses were spaced pretty well apart. My yard was separated from Edwards’s by a stone path that led back to the greenbelt. I think the community had once thought of running a full walking path behind all the houses, but it never happened.

“Hold up. I’m worried about this thing waking up and biting one of us. Does the virus spread the same with these ghouls?”

“I don’t know, man. I think they ate some of the fucking dead flesh and the virus mutated in them or something. I haven’t heard of one of them biting anyone.”

“I’m not taking any chances.”

Yanking out the knife at my side, I used it to cut the thing’s sleeve off. We had to drop him, but he barely stirred. He smelled like rot, just like the zombies, but he had an undercurrent of something like old fish. His arm under the sleeve was white with massive patches of gray. He had open wounds that oozed pus, and I didn’t want one of those sores touching my clothing. It was bad enough having him between us.

I used the sleeve to gag the creature. It opened one eye, which blazed a shade of green. I wasn’t in the mood, so I drew back my arm and punched him in the temple. He went down like a sack of potatoes.

The barricade was buzzing when we got back. Men and women, armed to the teeth, patrolled the tops of cars and the perimeter. The air was filled with the shouts of the community as they came out of tents and houses.

“It’s Scott. Hold up!” My companion yelled as we approached. He raised one arm and waved it. I looked behind me at the mess we had left, but all I could see was a column of smoke slowly rising in the early morning breeze. The sky was crystal clear with the exception of a few light puffs of cloud.

People had long worried about the impact we had on the environment. That we were going to destroy it. One thing was for sure: Humans were a dying race, a breed that was bound to pass on like so many that had come before, but the earth would still be here long after us.

Lisa was on top of a car, staring down an automatic barrel at us. My skin crawled as she drew a bead on me. I wondered what she made of the ghoul, wondered if she was thinking of blowing us away just for hauling it back. Trust was hard to come by nowadays.

She would be right to kill him and us. I wondered if I would do the same in her shoes. I realized what a mistake it was to bring this thing with us. I should have ended him when we were back at the house, but this was an opportunity to study our enemies’ leaders. What sort of information could we learn?

“What the fuck is that?” she yelled as we drew within fifteen feet.

“One of the ghouls.”

“What?” Coming off the car, she slid to the ground in a neat, practiced move.

She came at us with assault rifle raised, stopping a few feet away before she lowered it to her waist. The gears were spinning—I could see it in her eyes as she considered what we had brought with us. This was a great opportunity; she had to see that.

“You can’t bring that ghoul in. Lay it out and take care of it, then drag the body somewhere. I don’t want to see the thing.”

She turned to leave.

“Wait!” I set the unconscious creature down on the ground. Scott leaned over to help, then straightened and stretched until something popped in his back.

“Heavy mother fucker,” he grunted.

“What? You think that thing is going to come in here? Maybe we can feed it, give it a room to stay in? Maybe we can ask its name and treat it like family, the way we did with you and Katherine last night?”

She had a point, but the tactical advantage had to outweigh the risk. We could learn so much from this ghoul. We could find out how they controlled the zombies, how they lived, where they lived, and how many there were. I was afraid to admit that the ghouls might have some sort of organization, that they might be living in groups and communicating, like we did. If that were true, then we would need to find and eliminate them, because they would certainly be unwilling to peacefully share the world with us. They would want to destroy us—or worse, gather us up like they were farming cattle.

“We need to find out if they’re organized. We need to learn everything we can. Don’t you have a secure room where we can keep him while we gather intel?”

“Gather intel? Is that another word for torture?”

“What the hell does it matter if we torture this thing? It’s not even human.”

“I can give fuck all about him. I don’t want him in the camp.”

I wanted to chalk up her reaction to being a woman, but that wasn’t it, and it would be cheap to think so. Lisa had worked very hard to maintain this enclave in the midst of hopelessness. She had been a beacon for the survivors, given them a place to gather and live together as a family. They relied on each other. They protected each other, and I had no doubt that each would sacrifice himself or herself for the others. It reminded me of the military, and that was why I felt so attached to them after only one day. I couldn’t betray them, but I didn’t want to lose valuable information we could learn from the ghoul.