Shore Haven (Short Story 2): Childhood's End

by Reynolds, Jennifer

  Not that it mattered. It wasn’t as if either one of us got much sleep that night. Our neighborhood usually shut down around seven or eight during the week. Everyone was home from work, fed, and relaxing. Sometimes you could hear the sounds of kids playing, but mostly all that filtered through was the occasional car driving by. Curiosity had me itching to find the nearest window so I could watch what was happening, but fear of one of the creatures spotting me and trying to get into the house kept me away.

  That night and on into the morning was chaos. Glass broke, people screamed, and sirens blared in-between the sounds of gunshots. The news stations played the same images and videos it had most of the day. Occasionally we’d get something new, but I got the feeling most of it was on repeat. The radio was the same.

  When some unknown person had banged on our door for half a second, screaming for us to let him or her in, Dad and I started barricading the doors and windows the best we could.

  At first, when Dad hadn’t woken when I called, I’d assumed he was just exhausted from the day before. I could sympathize, and if it hadn’t been for fear of what the day would bring, I’d have probably slept in as well.

  Not until I had to shake him awake, which was never the case with Dad, did I realize something was wrong. He was paler than usual and running a fever.

  He mumbled something when I shook him, and he rolled his eyes in my direction, but I could tell that he didn’t see me.

  “Shit,” I said, thankful he wouldn’t be aware of my cursing in his presence.

  “Dad. Daddy,” I said, shaking him a little harder.

  “Yeah,” he replied.

  “You’re sick.”

  “I’m all right. Just tired. Let me sleep a bit longer.”

  “I’m going to get you a fever reducer and some water. I need you to wake up and take it.”

  “Okay,” he said, but immediately rolled his head away from me and went to sleep.

  “Fuck,” I said to no one. What was I going to do? Take care of him, of course. But what if he died?

  I got the potty seat out of my parents’ room and set up it next to the sofa. I got water, meds, and some wet wipes and set them on the coffee table. I looked down at my dad for a long moment, wondering what else I needed.

  The gun. Get the gun. If Dad turned like Mom and Alley, I’d have to shoot him.

  I only vaguely remembered placing the gun on top of my parents’ dresser the day before. I fetched it, reloaded it, made sure the safety was on, and tucked it into the back of my jeans. I didn’t know if that was a good idea, but I’d seen people do it in movies, and besides, I didn’t have a holster, so there wasn’t much else I could do with it. I refused to leave it within Dad’s reach. He might do something stupid.

  Nothing we’d seen or heard suggested that every person who got sick turned. Yeah, it appeared that most did, but we couldn’t know that all would. And I couldn’t know if dad had the same thing everyone else had.

  I felt fine, or at least not sick. That had to mean that the virus wasn’t contagious. I’d been in close contact with Keisha, Mom, and Alley. If I were going to get sick, I would have by now. Dad’s symptoms could have more to do with fatigue, shock, and depression.

  Then why did you bring the potty seat, linen savers, and diapers into the living room? a voice in the back of my head asked.

  They were just a precaution. People got diarrhea from stress and anxiety. If he started pooping like that, it didn’t mean he had what Mom and Alley had.

  I was lying to myself, and I knew it.

  I understood what was going on, but I let myself live in denial for as long as I could because it meant that there was a possibility that I wouldn’t be an orphan by the end of the week.

  There was no way that I could survive without my parents. I was just a kid. I was just a little kid who needed her parents to take care of her.

  The lie that Dad would be all right stayed with me until late that Tuesday afternoon. When he started vomiting and having diarrhea at the same time, I knew. His fever was so high that he didn’t know what was going on, though, which was a good thing.

  Cleaning Mom and Alley after they were sick had been easy. I’d seen them both naked hundreds of times, and whereas touching their private parts, even with gloves on and layers of toilet paper and wet wipes between our bare skin, had been awkward, I’d done it with no problems.

  Taking care of Dad that way, on the other hand, hadn’t been easy. I’d never seen a naked man this close before. Some of the kids my age had already had sex, but I’d only kissed one boy, and that had been all we’d done.

  As I wiped him down, I cursed whoever had created the sickness. A daughter should never have to clean her father. He was too out of it to be embarrassed, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t indignant on his behalf. I’d never seen my father in just his boxers, let alone fully naked. If he came too, I would never tell him what I had to do. He’d know I had to have been the one to do it, but I’d never bring it up.

  By late Wednesday afternoon, he’d stopped getting sick, stopped peeing, and stopped ingesting anything. He barely moved in his sleep, and rarely woke. He was dying, just like Mom and Alley. I was watching him go, and I was pissed beyond words that I couldn’t do anything about it.

  I wanted to sleep in the living room to watch him. To be with him when he finally passed, but fear that he would change and attack me while I slept had me cowering in my bedroom with the door locked and my trunk pushed against it. The gun never left my side.

  To my surprise, when I woke Thursday morning, he was still alive. I’d tried to make as little noise as possible exiting my bedroom and creeping down the hall to peek in at him. He hadn’t moved from the sofa. His skin hadn’t gone that bone-white that Alley’s had, and I could see him breathing.

  I slipped into the bathroom, thanking God for my good luck. Maybe dad was getting better. Perhaps he wouldn't turn.

  I did my business, checked on him again a third time before getting dressed and slipping into the kitchen to make breakfast. I made oatmeal. I thought that was something he might be able to swallow and possibly keep down if his stomach still felt queasy.

  Feeling a little guilty about doing it, but knowing he would insist, I ate my bowl first before approaching him with this.

  “Daddy,” I said, shaking him slightly. “Can you wake up and eat something. I have water too.”

  He did the mumbling thing at first, but he woke easier than he had the last few times I’d tried to get him up.

  “Kayla?” he asked.

  “Yeah, Daddy, it’s me. I have something to drink for you and food. Are you hungry?”

  “Not so much.”

  “Can you drink anything?”

  “No baby, I can’t.”

  “You have to if you’re going to get better.”

  “I’m not getting better, sweetie.”

  “But you already are. You’re awake and talking to me. You haven’t done that in two days.”

  “This is just the calm before the storm. Do you remember how Grandma Rose seemed to perk up right before she died?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s what I’m doing.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do. I can feel it inside of me. I’m not going to be alive much longer.”

  “What do you feel?”

  “I can’t explain it. I just know it’s going to happen.”

  “What do I do? You can’t leave me alone. I can’t take care of myself.”

  “You have to go to Shore Haven. Keisha’s great uncle Jasper will be there. He’ll take care of you.”

  “What? I can’t go. I can’t leave you.”

  “You can, and you must. I won’t have you shooting me. I shouldn’t have let you kill your mom and sister. I should have done it for you.”

  “But Daddy…”

  “No buts. You have to go…soon.”

  “No.”

  “Kayla, I’m not arguing with you
about this. You go to Shore Haven. Jasper will take you in. There’s no safer place on this island than that compound. Promise me.”

  “Okay. If you die, I’ll go.”

  “No, you’ll go now. Go pack a bag. Hurry.” He nearly came off the sofa at his last words. The action scared me into motion.

  I rushed to my room, packed my backpack with as much needed stuff as possible. I tried stalling, but Dad called my name from the hallway, demanding I hurry.

  He met me at the end of the hall and directed me toward the front door. We moved the heavy table we’d leaned against it, all the while I begged him not to make me leave.

  He opened the door, looked around outside, and pushed me onto the porch.

  “Daddy please.”

  “Kayla. I need you to do this for me.”

  “But Shore Haven is all the way across the island. I’ll never make it.”

  “You will. Stick to the shadows. Stay quiet.”

  He placed a long knife in my hand.

  “The gun will be loud. It’ll draw attention to you. Stab them in the head. Human or creature. Anyone who tries to do you harm. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Now go.”

  He pushed me further across the porch before rushing back inside and locking the door.

  I stood rooted to the spot.

  A minute later, a gunshot came from the direction of the garage, causing me to jump. I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. My dad had killed himself. Tears streamed down my face. I nearly threw up.

  The sound of a moan coming from the strip of yard between our house and our neighbors sobered me, and I took off across the grass toward the road in the direction of Shore Haven.

  Chapter 6

  Two blocks from the house, I wondered if I should have taken Mom’s car. It wasn’t inside the garage, so I wouldn’t have had to see my family’s bodies or drawn attention to myself when the door opened. The engine would have made noise though, I guess. I couldn’t even remember where I’d put the keys, either.

  I’d seen a few zombies since leaving the house, but most were too preoccupied with eating a human to notice me.

  I tried to keep close to buildings in case I needed to hide inside one. The thought that doing so might trap me with one of them never occurred to me.

  Almost the instant I left my neighborhood and entered the main part of the island, I came face to face with a zombie. Oddly enough, I think he was more shocked to see me than I was him because I was able to react first. Without thinking about it, I plunged my knife into his temple. He dropped to the ground, taking my knife with him.

  For a second, I thought about leaving the blade where it was but then told myself that if I had enough guts to stab him, I had enough to pull out the knife.

  Tentatively, I bent down, placed one hand on his cheek to hold his head steady, and with the other grabbed the handle. The knife didn’t slip from him easily, but it came out all the same. I wiped it clean on his dirty shirt.

  A second zombie came around a corner at that moment. I ran. I tried to stay to back alleys that ran the outskirts of the island center. The outbreak was everywhere, but most of the creatures had congregated where the most significant part of the island's population was.

  A woman that reminded me too much of my mother grabbed me as I was passing by a shadowed doorway of an apartment complex. At first, I thought she was still alive and was trying to help, but when she continued to pull me toward her face, I stabbed her in the arm that held me. Her grip with that hand loosened, and she reached for me with her other, but it was broken and didn’t move the way she wanted. I slammed my blade through her cheek and into her brain.

  If it hadn’t been for a group of scared college students distracting a horde, I would have died a few minutes later when I circled the next building and nearly ran into a mass of undead. The students had swarmed out of a third building, screaming. The horde pounced. I ran.

  The upper half of an Asian girl of about ten tried to grab my leg. I kicked her in the head.

  A zombie that someone had set on fire nearly toppled me over.

  I bypassed another horde swarming a side entrance to Brakerville Hospital. They could smell and see live humans inside and were seconds away from breaking the glass and getting inside.

  I kept running. I wasn’t athletic at all, and a time or two I had to stop to throw up or rest. I couldn’t afford the rest breaks, but I also couldn’t keep up the running. My side hurt. I could barely breathe. I only had a vague idea that I was running in the right direction.

  During one of my stops, I watched a house go up in flames. On another, I watched five mounted police officers disappear into a horde. At my third, I killed a woman trying to eat a baby. I should have killed the baby too since the woman had been able to take a bite out of its leg, but I left it in its car seat wailing.

  Eventually, the vast compound of Shore Haven came into sight. For a second, I wondered if I shouldn't have gone to Keisha's first to see if they were home. Shore Haven wasn’t open to the public yet, so there was a high chance that no one was there.

  The point was moot now, though. Keisha lived on my side of the island. I’d come too far to turn back. If no one was at Shore Haven, then I’d try to get to Keisha’s house. I didn’t have any other family on the island. If she wasn’t at Shore Haven or at home, I didn’t know where else to go but back to my house.

  The closer I got to Shore Haven, the more zombies I saw. Luckily, most were already preoccupied with their current victim. A few spotted me. Most I was able to dodge. Some stopped chasing me when they spotted easier prey. I was one of the few people on the island who wasn’t sick, so I wasn’t easy prey for those who had turned.

  That didn’t mean I didn’t have to kill a teenage boy nearly double my size who was determined to take me down. He almost got me too, but I managed to get my knife in his gut, in his hip, and to take off a few fingers. I’d discovered quickly that if you could mangle their bodies enough, they weakened, making them easier to kill.

  Next was an old man whom I’d tripped over coming out of an alley. One of his legs didn’t move, but the rest of him was a bit on the strong side. I stabbed the working leg and punched him in the jaw before stabbing him.

  By the time I reached one of the entrances to Shore Haven, I was exhausted and bloody. I reached up to ring the doorbell and to start pounding on the door, but when I saw my blood-covered hand, I lowered it.

  I couldn’t approach Jasper looking the way I did. He would think I was one of those creatures or at the very least think that I’d been exposed to the virus, which I had been. He wouldn’t let me inside.

  Jasper was a paranoid middle-aged man. He’d built Shore Haven with the idea that a second apocalyptic event was headed our way. He was right. Anyone else might see me standing outside their door and know that I needed help. They would understand that I’d just barely escaped the creatures and needed sanctuary.

  Jasper would not. He would see me as a liability. If Keisha was inside and alive, she could beg and plead for days, and he still wouldn’t let me inside. Most likely, though, she hadn’t survived, which made my chances of getting inside even slimmer.

  Shit.

  I had extra clothes in my backpack, but I still needed to clean myself up a bit.

  I scanned the area and found a small corner grocery store about a block away. The streets around Shore Haven were clear. I guessed that was because the compound was empty and the zombies could probably sense that.

  The small shop was empty aside from a few dead bodies. The bathroom was tiny but was suitable for what I needed. I shut and locked the door behind me, stripped, and used the water from the sink to clean my body the best I could.

  I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t look into the eyes of the person who’d let my dad shoot himself, who had killed my mother, my sister, and countless others in the last
few hours. I didn’t want to see the person the outbreak had turned me into. I couldn’t know that I might be more of a monster than those creatures out there.

  After dressing, I used the facilities. I’d thrown up a few times during my journey, and apparently, my bowels wanted in on the action. I didn’t have what my parents and sister had, but it still hadn’t been pleasant.

  Once I was done, I slipped from the bathroom and the store. With no one in sight, I ran back to Shore Haven. I rang the bell. I pounded on the door. I prayed no one or thing followed the noise I was making. I rang the bell some more and pounded harder.

  Someone had to be there. They just had to be.

  Please turn the page for an exclusive look at Shore Haven.

  Chapter 1

  ~~Samantha~~

  “She’s turned,” a male voice behind me said.

  My body wanted to sag in relief at hearing a human voice attached to the movement behind me that I’d been trying to ignore. It didn’t, though. It couldn’t and stay alive. I hadn’t heard any moans aside from those that were coming from the body in front of me, but that didn’t mean the dead wasn’t creeping up on me.

  “I fucking know she has,” I said with a snarl.

  I put a little more force behind the grip I had on the shopping cart in front of me, as my sister jerked, spasmed, and lunged for the newcomer and me from the other side of it. I’d had her pinned in the corner of the shopping center with the cart for a while, not knowing what my next move was going to be, but knowing that in that position one of the dead could easily sneak up behind me.

  If I were honest, though, I’d much rather one of them kill me than my baby sister. The logical part of my brain knew she wasn’t my sister anymore, but that didn’t stop me from seeing her as such.

  “Then kill her already,” the man said. His voice wasn’t as harsh as it had been at first. “Or I will.”