Utility Part X

 

          

What Bailey saw was nearly indescribable; in fact she blinked repeatedly hoping the effort would change the scene in front of her.

As she neared the greenbelt ahead of the tour she saw a child, of maybe around ten. He was clumsily avoiding a zombie that was tethered to the ground by a repurposed dog chain, which in turn was secured around its neck. The creature was struggling against it, and it was evident that the leash was rubbing its decomposed flesh away. Raw skin, the color of dead fish, had a backdrop of sinewy grey muscle along the zombie’s neckline. His teeth were black from bile, the afterlife giving him a strange under bite that accentuated his feral look.  He wore the faded garb of a mechanic; generic blue coveralls that had been treated harshly by the elements and his own decrepit state. 

One adult stood on the sidelines with several other children, watching as the awkward boy staggered to and fro holding a small knife. It appeared the boy was attempting to circle in close and try to stab the zombie, however either the young boy’s depth perception was off, or fear had taken its grip, as his arcs were too wide, causing him to never quite be able to close the distance on the growling zombie.

“Now c’mon Arnold,” the man at the sidelines yelled. Bailey thought he looked like a caricature of an 80’s gym teacher; baseball cap, reflective sunglasses, too small polo, and tight running shorts, completed by white sneakers. “You’ve got to get in there, striking distance! Go for the gusto!”

With Arnold’s latest miss, the zombie whirled on its chain, swiping at the child, and nearly getting a hand hold on the neck of his t-shirt.

A couple of the children offered suggestions from the sidelines as well. A burly boy with a rat tail that would soon grow into a full-fledged mullet shouted, “Stop being a pansy Arnold! I want my turn already.” Another spectator, this one a blonde girl with her hair in pigtails, also yelled, “You can do it Arnie!”

She couldn’t even react verbally to what she was witnessing. Instead, she quickened her pace and removed the knife she carried from its sheath. Andy saw where she was headed and no doubt what her intentions were, and broke into his own run to try and catch her.

 

“Get back kid.” Bailey’s lead foot had barely touched the sun-scorched grass when she grabbed at the zombie, snatching the nape of his neck in her hand. Efficiently, she plunged the knife into its temple. It dropped to the ground in a lifeless heap. A minuscule amount of blood trickled from the wound. The child, Arnold was frozen. The other children stared in awe and confusion.

“What in the Sam Hill are you doing?” the gym teacher howled. “I’m trying to teach here!”

 “Sorry, Cowles she’s a rogue member of the tour!” Gilby came running forward. He then pulled a walkie talkie from his hip; discreetly he cupped one hand and spoke.

Andy reached Bailey a second too late, panting he gripped her shoulder; it was hard to tell if it was in reassurance or to stop her from causing further mayhem.

“Andy, I’d ask that you restrain your wife sir.” Gilby ordered.

Bailey turned, staring hard at Andy. “Don’t you touch me.” She threw his hand off. “You saw what was happening.”

“What was happening was education.” The man in the reflective sunglasses stepped forward, voice booming. “I’m teaching these little accidents how to defend themselves from the dead.”

“Horseshit! Absolute horseshit!” Bailey was angry, though shaking; her voice equaled that of Cowles. “What you were doing is putting them in harm’s way!” Without realizing it, she had begun to cry out of frustration. It all felt like a bad dream.

Before Cowles or anyone else could contest this a group of two men rushed the scene in a battery powered golf cart. They exited swiftly and went straight to Gilby. Clad in plain tactical gear and sunglasses they cut an imposing view. One asked, “Situation?”

Gilby answered succinctly, “Public nuisance, disturbing the peace.”

With what was the same voice as the first officer, the second in attendance asked curtly, “The blonde?”

Gilby sighed, “Yes, and her husband.” He flicked a finger in the direction of Bailey and Andy.

“Wait, what? I didn’t even do anything!” Andy cried incredulously.

Bailey’s head hung low as the officers stalked towards her revealing zip ties. “Drop the knife.” the pair instructed in unison.  

She did as she was told. For someone that the inhabitants of Prism might’ve already labeled as a loud mouth, she found she simply didn’t have the words.