Walking With The Dead (Book 2): Home with the Dead

by Dziekan, PJ

  “Good!” His smile never made it past his fleshy lips. “Ken said you were doing some exploring.”

  “We just wanted to get the layout of the town, maybe see if there was a place Sarah and I could call our own.”

  Bill shook his head. “No, we keep folks together. Guys on one side the street and gals on the other. Less trouble that way, if you know what I mean.”

  “She’s my daughter, not…” Dylan didn’t know how to finish that sentence.

  “I know, I know. But that’s the way I like it. Besides, it’s cheaper to heat just a few group houses. You understand?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Now, you’re a mechanic?”

  “Right,” Dylan said.

  “I got a couple trucks I’d like you to look at. Our last mechanic got bit on a run so we had to put him down. Trucks have been sitting ever since.”

  Sarah cringed at his matter-of-fact delivery. Put him down? She thought. Like a dog?

  “I’ll be glad to look at them,” Dylan said.

  “Appreciate it.” Bill nodded.

  “What can I do?” Sarah asked. She had to see if they were right, if there was only one job for women in Sugar Creek. “I want to contribute.”

  “We’ll find something for you, don’t worry.” He winked at her and she suppressed a shudder. He slid a box down the counter towards them. “Here’s a little bit of supplies for you two, just to get you started. You’ll have to earn the rest.”

  Dylan put a hand on the box. “Thank you.”

  Bill shrugged modestly. “It’s not much, but we do what we can.”

  “We appreciate it, Bill.” Dylan held out his hand and Bill shook.

  “Why don’t you two head back to your houses? I’ll send someone along in an hour or so to take you to the trucks.”

  “OK.” Dylan hefted the box. Canned goods, he was sure. “Thanks again for taking us in.” He put his free arm around Sarah’s shoulder.

  “We’re really grateful, sir,” Sarah said, pasting a smile on her face.

  Bill chuckled. “And we’re happy to have you. Now go on.”

  ♦

  Sarah and Dylan were escorted outside by Ken. “Get something to eat. I’ll come get you in about an hour,” Ken said to Dylan.

  “Is there somewhere we can eat together?” Sarah asked. They needed to start planning.

  “Just sit out in one of the yards. It’s not too cold.”

  “OK.” Obviously, they want to keep an eye on us, Sarah thought. “Thank you.”

  With a nod at Ken, Dylan took Sarah’s arm and led her down the sidewalk. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they try to listen in,” he said from the side of his mouth.

  “I know,” she whispered softly. “We’ll have to be careful.”

  They found a house with a battered picnic table in the middle of the back yard. They could see in all directions, so they could keep an eye out for eavesdroppers. They brushed the dirt and leaves from the table and sat, trying to avoid looking at the children’s toys still scattered around the yard. Dylan pulled the items from the box. Cans of diced tomatoes, carrots and tuna. A one serving box of crackers and four bottles of water. “Yay, tomatoes,” Sarah said in a monotone.

  Dylan laughed. “You just keep getting stuck with them, don’t you?” He dug in his pack for his can opener. “Mix them with tuna, put it on crackers, it’ll be fine.” Sarah shuddered.

  “I’ll see what I can find out when I’m working on the trucks,” Dylan said softly as he opened the tuna and tomatoes.

  “Were you really an army mechanic?” She asked, opening the crackers.

  Dylan laughed. “For about a week. I blew out my knee and had to take medical discharge.”

  “Think you can fool them?”

  “I hope so.”

  Sarah watched him put the tuna and tomatoes on the crackers. “I’ll see if Donna knows anything else.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Always.” She grimaced as she took a cracker topped with tuna and tomato. “Stupid apocalypse. What I wouldn’t give for a piece of cheesecake.”

  ♦

  Dylan walked her back to Donna’s house and admonished her again to be careful. She let herself in, happy to see that Pam wasn’t in the living room. Instead, Donna and another young woman sat on the couch, nail polish and other manicure tools on the table in front of them. “Hi, Sarah,” Donna said, looking up when she entered. “This is Lacey.”

  “Hi, Lacey,” she said to the mousy brown-haired woman.

  “Hi,” she said. She looked up briefly then put her head back down, her hair hiding her face.

  “Want to do your nails with us?” Donna asked.

  The last thing she wanted to do. “Sure,” she said brightly. She sat cross legged on the floor in front of the table. She reached for the closest bottle of nail polish.

  “Oh my God, your nails are terrible!” Donna exclaimed, taking Sarah’s hand.

  Sarah pulled her hand away. “I didn’t have a lot of time to fix them,” she said, looking down at her hand. Her nails were ragged, her cuticles split.

  “Here, Sarah, soak your hand in this.” Donna pushed a bowl of dingy water to her. Sarah hesitated. “Sorry, it’s not like a fancy salon. We save the water from our washing.”

  “It’s fine, Donna.” Sarah put her hand in the cool water.

  “I found an air mattress for you,” Donna said to Sarah. “You’ll have to bunk with me, though, if that’s OK.”

  “That’s fine, Donna, thank you.”

  “We only have two bedrooms in this place and Lacey and Pam share the other one.”

  Sarah made a small noise to show she was listening. She wanted to ask Donna about Bill, about life in Sugar Creek, about what she could expect, but not with Lacey sitting there. She looked over at the brown-haired woman, her hair still covering her face as she painstakingly painted each nail bright red. The color looked horrible on her short nails, but Sarah didn’t comment. “Are you both natives of Sugar Creek?” She asked, taking her hand from the water and drying it off. She placed her other hand in the bowl, shivering slightly at the chill.

  “Lacey is, but I came here right after it all happened,” Donna answered. She painted a coat of clear over her light pink nails.

  “Were there a lot of people here?”

  “Some. Not a lot.” Her eyes flicked up to Sarah’s. She looked anxious.

  “Lacey, that’s a pretty name.” Sarah changed the subject.

  “Thank you.” Her voice was barely audible.

  “How many people were in the town before everything happened?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. She wasn’t getting any information here. She pulled her hand from the bowl, almost spilling it. “I don’t think I’m going to do my nails,” she said, using the coffee table to stand. “I’m going to get my bed set up.”

  “Sure, Sarah. I left the blankets you used earlier on the bed, along with some sheets.”

  “Thank you, Donna. It was nice meeting you, Lacey.”

  She murmured a response. Sarah picked up her backpack and went into the room she now shared with Donna.

  The air mattress was a single, pushed against the far wall. Donna had left a set of sheets and the blankets atop the mattress. Sarah quickly made the bed, leaving the blankets folded at the end. She sat on the mattress, her head in her hands. She was so tired. Just a few minutes, she thought as she lay down on the mattress.

  ♦

  A knock on the door woke her again. Sarah opened her eyes, nearly blind in the dark. She sat up, fumbling in her open bag for her flashlight. Finding it, she aimed it at the floor before turning it on and focusing it on the door. “Yes?” She finally said.

  “Sarah, Austin’s here for you.” Donna’s voice was muffled, but Sarah picked up on the anxiety.

  “Austin?” Sarah’s heart started to race.

  “He wants to see you.”

  “I – I can’t.” She could hear her heart beating in her ears.
“I – I’m sick.”

  She heard murmuring outside the door then it opened. Donna stepped through, holding a candle. She closed the door behind her and walked forward. “He wants you, Sarah,” she said softly.

  “Why?”

  “Because he can. Because it’s all we can do.” Her voice was resigned.

  Sarah shook her head violently. “I can’t,” she said. “Donna, I – I can’t. I just…” She took a breath. “I just lost my husband a few weeks ago. I can’t do it.” She covered her face with her hands.

  “I’m so sorry.” Donna’s voice was kind. “I didn’t know.”

  “I can’t do it,” Sarah repeated, sliding her hands down her face. She had rubbed her eyes when she covered her face, making them look red and raw. “Please, tell him I’m sick.”

  “OK.” Donna patted Sarah’s hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thank you, Donna.”

  Donna smiled wanly. “It’s OK, Sarah.” She left the room, closing the door behind her.

  Sarah heard murmuring, then Austin’s voice, much louder, full of anger. Donna’s voice again, calm, soothing. A sharp gasp, then a cry. Sarah stood, her hand on the knob. She took a deep breath and then opened the door. The room was empty, the front door closing as she stepped over the threshold. She stopped. What should she do now?

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The door opened two hours later. Sarah’s head flew up from the magazine she had been leafing through. In the flickering light from the candle, she saw Donna walk in and close the door softly behind her. “Donna, are you OK?” Sarah asked, raising the candle.

  She gasped when she saw Donna in the light. Her lip was split and faint bruises peppered her throat. When Donna sat, she hissed in pain. “Oh my God, Donna, what happened?” But she knew. God help her, she knew.

  Donna’s smile trembled. “He wasn’t in a good mood,” she rasped. Her voice was raw from screaming.

  “Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” Sarah pulled a tissue from her bag and began to dab at the blood on Donna’s lip. “It’s my fault.”

  Donna winced and pulled away. “No, not really. He’s never very gentle.”

  Sarah crumbled the tissue in her hand. “We have to do something!”

  “No!” Donna exclaimed. “We can’t. It’ll just be worse next time or we’ll get put in the cage.” She coughed a little. “This is how it is for us, Sarah.”

  Sarah took a bottle of water from her bag, leaving herself with only one, and handed it to Donna. “That’s wrong, Donna,” Sarah said, anger overriding every other emotion. “Women aren’t just here to be raped. Where I come from, men and women share everything equally. No one is forced to do anything.”

  “But this isn’t there,” she said softly. “Your place is gone. You live here now. You have to get used to it.” She uncapped the water and took a sip, wincing at the burning in her throat.

  Sarah paused. Should she tell her? Could she trust her? She shook her head. “It’s not right.”

  “No, but it’s what we have.” Donna took another drink of water. “Austin did bring our wood and food for today.”

  “I’ll bring it in and build a fire.” Sarah stood. “You just rest.” She went onto the porch, saw the meager pile of wood next to a cardboard box. She carried the wood in just two armfuls, wondering how it was supposed to keep them warm through the night. She crumbled some of the newspaper that lay near the fireplace and pushed it into the firebox. She laid smaller pieces of wood down first, crossing a few bigger pieces on top. She pulled her Zippo lighter from the side pocket of her bag and lit the paper.

  It took a few minutes, but the wood finally caught. Sarah made sure it would stay lit then went for the box of food on the porch. She set the box on the coffee table between the candles Donna had lit. As Sarah emptied the box, her anger grew. “This is for four women?” She asked, her teeth gritted.

  Four cans of assorted vegetables, one can of tuna, two single serve boxes of crackers, one can of peaches and six bottles of water. “You have got to be kidding me.” Sarah looked at Donna. “This is all you get?”

  “The guys usually give us extra, when they’re done,” she whispered.

  “Holy fuck, you’re kidding me!” Sarah yelled.

  “Ssh!” Donna stood and grabbed Sarah’s arm. “If someone hears you, you’ll go to the cage!” She pulled Sarah down to the couch. “Please be quiet.”

  Sarah raised her hand to her face. She rubbed her forehead then looked at Donna. “What’s the cage?”

  “It’s punishment,” she said softly. “It’s surrounded by those things.” She shuddered. “Sometimes – sometimes they can get to you.”

  Sarah took a breath, ready to explode again. One look at Donna’s battered face, her eyes haunted, full of pain and fear, and Sarah let out her breath. “I’m not hungry,” she said. “You can have my share.” She stood up. “I need to see my dad.”

  “You can’t go out after dark. There’s a curfew.”

  With a sigh, Sarah slumped back to the couch. “You know this is wrong, right?”

  “I have no choice, Sarah.”

  Yes, you do, Sarah thought. I’ll make sure you have one.

  ♦

  Donna had fallen asleep on the couch. Sarah covered her with a blanket, for despite the fire in the fireplace, the room was still cool. She took a few crackers from the open box and munched on them as she shrugged her pack on her back. She moved to the door, looking back at Donna through the flickering light. Shaking her head, she opened the door and slipped out.

  The moon was full, but a few clouds passed overhead. She reasoned she’d be fine if she was careful. She tightened the straps on her pack, slid the poker from the loop that held it and walked off the porch, the tool gripped tightly in her hand. She looked right, where Dylan was staying. But she didn’t know who else was there. She turned left, towards the forbidden area.

  Her footsteps were barely audible as she moved slowly down the sidewalk, her senses tuned for sound and movement. The houses she passed ran the gamut from practically untouched to broken doors and shattered windows. As always, she wondered what had happened to the people that lived there. Did they survive? Were they shambling around, looking for someone to eat? Were they forced into doing something they didn’t want?

  She bit her lip as she passed the police station. She’d ask the other girls if they wanted to go, too, but Donna was coming with them. She had shown Sarah nothing but kindness, sacrificed herself for Sarah. Dylan might not like it, but too bad. It was her choice. Her call.

  The buildings past the police station were all in terrible shape. Windows shattered, blood still staining the concrete. She saw a few corpses here and there, decomposing in the night. Why the hell did they leave them? She shuddered.

  As she moved deeper into the dark recesses of the town, she could hear something. Faint sounds. She stopped, gripping the poker, wishing she had her pipe. The noise was coming from the right. She crossed the street, moving slowly. When she saw the source of the sound, she covered her mouth with her free hand.

  Lacey was on the ground, surrounded by chain link fence, in an area about two feet by three feet. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, her head down. She appeared to be praying or crying, Sarah couldn’t tell. Her horrified gaze was focused on the half dozen zombies surrounding the cage, clutching the fence, reaching in with their broken and mangled fingers, moaning at the meal just inches away.

  They were hemmed in by another fence, surrounding the cage where Lacey wept, the creatures having a three-foot path around the cage. Sarah saw the gate, held only by a carabineer clip. She could open the gate, take out the zombies and release Lacey. Take them both out of here, out of this fucked up town. She blew out a breath, tightened her grip on the poker, and tensed for a run.

  A hand clasped over her mouth, an arm banded about her abdomen, trapping her arms as it pulled her back into the shadows.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  April and Jack moved
cautiously through the woods, towards the sensor that had tripped. The hill path sensor had always been reliable, not like the logging path sensor. Jack carried the rifle while April was armed with a machete in her hand and a 9mm on her waist. Every other time one of the sensors on that path tripped, it was a deer. They hoped that’s all it was this time. They could use the meat.

  It wasn’t a deer. Four figures were stumbling through the trees. By the way they moved, they were people, not zombies. April looped the machete on her wrist and pulled the pistol. They stopped at the end of the path, before it meandered up the hill. She looked over at Jack and nodded. He put the rifle to his eye.

  “That’s far enough!” April called, holding the gun firmly in two hands, pointing it at the strangers. Her thumb was on the safety.

  The figures stopped immediately, their heads whipping around in the direction of her voice. “H-hello?” A tentative female voice called. “Can you help us?”

  April glanced over at Jack, who shook his head. “Sorry, no. Turn around the way you came.”

  “Please!” A different voice, male and a little strained. “We’ve been walking for days. We – we have children.”

  April’s shoulders sagged. “Are you bit?”

  “No. No, we’re not bit. Just tired and hungry.” The woman again. “Can you just spare some food? Some water?”

  “Stay where you are.” April moved closer to Jack. “What do you think?” She whispered.

  “We can’t let kids go hungry,” he answered. “But we can’t let them in.”

  April paused, thinking. “We could put them in the shed. We can unload all the food.”

  Jack thought about it. “They can rest a few days, then we’ll send them on their way.”

  April nodded. “OK. Why don’t you head back, start getting the rest of the supplies from the shed?”

  Jack shook his head. “There’s four of them. I’ll stay here.”

  “I’ll be fine, Jack. Half of them are kids. I want to have that shed cleared out before we get there.”

  “Are you sure?”