by Eric Baker
He wanted to scream at her to get back inside, but that would just draw more attention from the zombies. And he had no way of knowing how many were in town. Or where they were. As she started across the street, he took a step forward without realizing it. Looking in the direction she headed he saw movement on the side of the building.
Jackson pulled his pistol, knowing he could never make a shot that long, but wanting to do something, anything, to help her. Then he saw the glint from a pistol and recognized the silhouette. The Sheriff, or maybe a deputy. Watching how the man held himself, he was convinced his first thought was right. Jackson’s chest tightened, and he ground his teeth in frustration. Now he really wanted to shoot.
A groan from his left brought his attention back to his current predicament. Looking toward the sound, he saw a number of dark figures stumble out from between some buildings. They were out of time.
____
Mildred Metzer was getting on everyone’s nerves in the kitchen. And truth be told, she was getting on her own nerves. But she couldn’t help it. She felt scared and helpless, two things she despised in the other women - ninnies, as she thought of them - in town. Currently, she was burning off nervous energy by running a tight ship in the kitchen.
“You, over there, wringing your hands, why don’t you help with the dishes? And wasn’t someone supposed to be sweeping this floor? How are we supposed to feed all those men out there if this kitchen isn’t clean?”
The young lady wringing her hands burst into tears as she ran to the sink to help with the dishes. Mildred rolled her eyes. Ninnies.
The gunfire from the hotel lobby had come close to causing a riot in the kitchen. Just about every woman in the kitchen had fallen to their knees in fear, a few had even fainted, supposing they were all going to die. When they heard the mayor getting control over the situation, Mildred had done the same with her small band. After all, someone had to take control. Might as well be her. And keeping busy would keep all their minds off the current situation.
It didn’t take long for everyone to get a handle on what needed to be done. Mildred walked around the kitchen, prodding women that were slacking off, encouraging those that were working hard. She heard the faint grumbles around her, asking who put her in charge. She ignored them all. After raising four boys, three to adults, and handling her husband, she knew full well how to get the job done.
Walking around the corner of the stoves with their soups and vegetables simmering, Mildred glanced back toward the sink and noticed that the back door was ajar. The outside breeze was causing it to shift, with a faint tint of the fading sun hitting it. She blew out an exasperated breath. Didn’t these ninnies understand anything about what was going on? She headed for the door.
“Did someone take trash outside and leave the door open? No? Then why is this door…”
Mildred was reaching for the handle when the door popped open, slamming against the outside of the building. All the women in the kitchen stopped what they were doing and turned at the noise.
Standing outside the open door was a man. At least, Mildred thought he was a man. She revised her estimate when she realized that he was missing a good portion of his face, including his hair and ear. The eyeball on the destroyed side of his face was still there, but it bulged out so much it looked like it was about to come out. She realized that what she thought was a dark smudge above his remaining lip was a mustache.
Mildred and the man stood and stared at each other for a full five seconds. To Mildred, it felt like an eternity as her overwhelmed and shocked mind tried to deal with the sight before her. The man, on the other hand, was simply allowing his eyes to adjust to the bright light in the kitchen. Once he could see, he latched onto the first movement in the room.
Unfortunately for her, the young lady that had been fussed at earlier by Mildred was still at the sink near the door. And she was still wringing her hands in fear, now with the added shakes of absolute terror.
The man lurched his way up the two steps and into the doorway before any of the women realized what he was doing. Then the dam of fear broke, and every single woman in the room screamed.
Every woman, that is, except Mildred. Above all, she was practical. And when the men were talking about zombies earlier, the dead come back to life, she had been listening. At first, she had thought it was a joke, but then she realized they were all serious. When she thought about the earlier attacks in the street, she had started to believe. Now, though, she had no doubt in her mind.
Looking around for a weapon, Mildred grabbed a towel then picked up a boiling pot of vegetables from the stove. The man was momentarily startled by the screaming and running of all the women, but he once again focused on the hand-wringer.
Mildred walked as fast as she could with the pot splashing its contents on the floor with each step. She swung the pot at the man, then stopped, allowing the contents to splash onto him. He was reaching for the woman when the pot of carrots, broccoli, turnips, and okra hit him on the remaining bit of face he had left.
The force of the water and vegetables got his attention, and he turned toward Mildred. A carrot stuck to his cheek slid down. To Mildred’s horror, she realized it wasn’t so much sliding as it was pulling his now melting skin down with it. Even worse, the man didn’t even seem to realize it was happening.
The woman standing at the sink couldn’t hold it in any longer and let out a whimper of fear. The man turned toward her and in one motion lunged, grabbing her arms in his hands and pulling her close. She let out a scream as the man slammed his teeth down on the cloth of the dress on her shoulder.
She pushed him away as hard as she could, but he held on with his teeth until a pot came down on his head, making a loud gonging sound. He ripped his head to the side to face the attack, the shoulder section of the woman’s dress coming with him.
Facing him was Mildred, pot in her hand and anger in her eyes.
“Let’s go, you sorry good-for-nothing zombie! I won’t just stand here while you terrorize these women!” She leaned forward and gave him another good whack across the face.
The man pushed away from the woman in his grasp and faced Mildred. She swung again at him, but this time he reached up and blocked it with his left arm. The crack against the bone was loud but didn’t seem to bother the man at all. As Mildred finished her swing, he lunged at her.
Mildred saw the man coming toward her and attempted to backpedal and swing again at the same time. Her foot slipped in the watery mess of vegetables on the floor, and both feet went straight up in the air. She landed flat on her back and hit her head on the floor. Her breath came out all at once in an explosive whoosh.
The man wasn’t expecting Mildred to fall. He was reaching for her as she fell, which caused him lose his balance, then he also slipped and fell. Right on top of Mildred.
She could only watch in terror, trying to catch her breath. Her vision began to fade to black around the edges, getting smaller and smaller with the man’s face in the middle. It felt like he was coming toward her in slow motion, filling her vision. The blackness of his eyes, a dark, ruby red, like dried blood. The melted skin of his left cheek. She could see tendrils of thread from the dress of the hand-wringing woman at the sink. Then she saw his mouth open wide.
Suddenly, her breath came back. She could breathe! The blackness disappeared, and she brought her arms before her to ward off the man’s attack. She could smell his breath, rotten and sick, then she felt pain. Her left arm felt like it was on fire. The man had his teeth latched onto her, and she could feel him preparing to pull away, most likely taking a large piece of her arm with him.
Then there was a scream that pierced through the chaos and noise of the kitchen. Another person appeared behind the man, the scream continuing as the person moved in a weird rhythm, side to side. Mildred could not see who it was as she strained to remove the man from on top of her. In between the man’s eyes, something silvery and metallic came out about an inch: the tip of a knife, straight toward Mild
red’s face. A thin line of blood slid down the blade, forming a drop at the tip. The man ceased to move.
The blade disappeared back between the man’s eyes, the drop of blood falling and hitting Mildred on the nose. She heaved once more, and the man fell to the side, letting go of her arm. She brought her right hand up and wiped off her nose, looking at the blood on her fingers in concern. Then she looked up to see who had saved her, expecting to see one of the men from out front.
Standing in front of her with wild eyes staring at the man on the floor, blood splattered all over the front of her dress, was the hand-wringer. She held a large butcher knife in both hands, looking like some warrior swords-woman from ancient times. Her whole body was heaving, out of breath following her exertion. Her face was also splattered with blood, and as Mildred looked at her in surprise, she turned her gaze to Mildred.
“Are… are you OK, Mildred?” The tentative voice was more like her previous demeanor.
Lifting her left arm before her, Mildred looked at the damage the bite had done. Something felt hot inside her arm. Letting her hand drop to the floor, she closed her eyes for a second to regroup. Then she looked at the woman before her once more.
“I’ll be fine, honey. If not for you, I’m sure I would be dead. I can’t thank you enough.”
Mildred reached her hand out and let the woman help her to her feet. She grabbed a nearby towel and wrapped it around her arm, staunching the blood flowing from the wound.
Looking around, Mildred assessed the situation before her. Most of the women were still trying to leave the kitchen through the single door to the lobby. She could hear the men from the lobby trying to get past them, but terrified women could be extremely strong. Then she noticed that the outside door was still standing wide open, the last streaks of sunlight in the darkening sky shining into the kitchen.
Striding over to the back door, Mildred grabbed the door and slammed it shut. There was a simple turnkey lock on the door, but she didn’t have the key. And the door wouldn’t close all the way without being locked. She looked back at the woman that had saved her.
“I just realized I don’t know your name, honey, and I’m very sorry for that. But right now, could you be a dear and help me move this cabinet?” Mildred motioned to the cabinet holding the plates and utensils that stood near the door.
The woman looked at the knife still in her hands. She was having a hard time rectifying what she had done. Then she looked at the man on the floor, and it clicked. She knew she hadn’t had a choice. Mildred - and others, maybe - would have died. She threw the bloody knife into the sink and headed over to the cabinet.
“Yes, ma’am, I’d be glad to help.” She grabbed hold of the cabinet, then looked Mildred in the eye as she got into position. “And it’s Peggy, ma’am.”
Mildred gave her a rare, sincere smile.
“Well, dear - Peggy, thank you once again. Now let’s move this cabinet before more craziness can come in that door. OK?”
Peggy just smiled, the blood on her face looking like freckles in the dim lighting. Then the back door burst open once again and all Peggy and Mildred heard were growls.
____
Loosely organized chaos, Jackson thought as he watched the people in the lobby stack furniture in front of the windows and the door to the Hotel. Thankfully, they had enough stacked when the group of zombies he had heard earlier made it to them. He knew the noise would attract them, but it was necessary if they were to stay safe.
When the pounding and growling began, with an occasional unearthly shriek, at the front of the hotel, not a single person faltered for more than a second. The three bodies on the floor were a stark reminder of what awaited them outside if they weren’t secure. If anything, everyone moved faster, with a greater sense of purpose.
Then he heard screams and the first few women ran into the lobby babbling about madmen in the kitchen. Jackson knew immediately what was happening, as did a few of the hardier men in the lobby, and together they converged on the kitchen door.
It was impossible to get through the door. Women were fighting other women, and none of them were making any headway in getting out of the kitchen. This also blocked the men from getting in.
Jackson stood on his tiptoes to look over the heads of the smaller women just in time to see a zombie with only half a face fall on top of a woman that fell to the floor. Then to his amazement, a young woman behind the zombie went berserk.
She was a petite lady that looked like she wouldn’t hurt a fly, but she grabbed a large butcher knife and began hacking and slashing at the man’s back, sending a thrust of the knife directly into the back of his head. Jackson watched as she pulled the knife out and stood there, looking down at the man. Then after a few seconds, she reached down and helped the other woman up.
The men at the door were getting increasingly frustrated, and Jackson was tempted to just haul them out by force. He could see there were still more than a dozen women trying to get out. How could there be so many women in a kitchen? He knew it was a big room, being in a hotel, but this was more like the clowns he’d seen at a circus once. The clowns had been pouring out of a wagon only big enough to hold four or five, and yet over a dozen came out. Only they weren’t screaming like the women coming out of the kitchen.
He looked in once more, and that’s when he saw the back door, still standing open. He wasn’t concerned as much about the door itself as what he saw silhouetted in the skylight through the door: zombies. They stood still, a few heads leaning to one side, no motion except for the occasional sway.
Then he saw the woman from the floor, Mildred something-or-other, move to the door and slam it hard without even looking outside. She motioned to the younger woman with the knife to help her move a cupboard behind the door.
Jackson looked at the two men with him trying to get into the kitchen. They couldn’t wait. He raised his voice to be heard over the caterwauling of the women.
“We need to get in there. NOW!” Jackson moved into the doorway and pushed into the kitchen. A few women at the edges of the group of women fell, pulling a few others with them. That helped the men move easier, and they were almost free when the back door flew open.
There were loud groans from the back door. Jackson looked past the few women still blocking him, and his blood went cold as he saw dark figures entering the doorway.
Jackson pulled his pistol and pointed toward the door, putting the barrel between the eyes of an older brunette woman. The woman let out a squeak before her eyes rolled back and she fainted dead away. Jackson stepped over her, now pointing at the men in the door.
The figures in the doorway stepped forward, and in the light of the kitchen, it was obvious they were zombies. Jackson aimed at the head of the first one through the door and pulled the trigger. His bullet punched through the man’s skull with a loud slapping sound. The zombies behind him were pushing into the room, so the man stayed on his feet, moving forward.
Jackson thought at first that his shot had somehow missed the man. Then the man fell forward, landing face down on the floor with a thud. Next to Jackson, the other two men moved into the room past the even more terrified women.
The two men let go with a barrage of bullets aimed to kill regular people. Holes opened in their chests, their stomachs, everywhere but the spot most needed. They both reloaded as quick as they could.
“The head, you idiots! It’s the only thing that will kill them! Shoot them in the head!”
Jackson berated the two men as he shot at two more zombies, expending the remainder of his rounds in partial hits and misses. There were still at least four more zombies trying to get in the doorway. But they were having the same problem the women had been having, trying to get too many people through one door at a time.
From behind the door, the cupboard slid forward, partially closing the door. The two women behind it were giving it everything they could, their grunts of exertion and frustration evident over the other women that were still trying
to get as far from the kitchen as possible.
One of the men with Jackson finished loading his gun and, seeing the women’s efforts, ran to help them. He knew he wouldn’t fit behind the cupboard with the two women, so he placed himself in front of the cupboard and pushed.
Without warning a hand reached into the doorway and snagged his sleeve. Since he had just begun pushing with all his might, the sudden movement of his arm from the cupboard caused him to slip forward and onto the floor. He was rolling over when a zombie from the door landed on him. Trying to throw him off, he got his arm up as a mouth came down and bit hard.
Screaming, he pulled with his bit arm and grabbed with his free arm, rolling both of them into the kitchen. The push that the man had given on the cupboard was enough to get it over a board in the floor that was sticking up. It slid in front of the door, blocking any more zombies from entering.
The man on the floor rolled away from the zombie as it stood. Jackson and the man next to him both let loose. Two slugs entered the zombies head, one in each eye. The head flipped back, seeming to lift the rest of the body into the air a few inches. Then the whole body laid out flat and landed flat on the floor.
Jackson walked to the body, aiming his pistol at the head. After a few moments, he holstered his weapon and looked around the kitchen. The silence was welcome after the shooting and screaming. A loud bang at the back door almost made him draw his weapon again, and he looked at the two women behind the cupboard sheepishly.
“Ladies.” He nodded his head in their direction. “I thank you for your help. Unlike the other women of this fine establishment, I daresay you two have saved us from further bloodshed.”
The younger woman looked at him shyly, then her face clouded as she looked at the older woman next to her. She reached out to help her, and Jackson noticed the blood on her arm for the first time. His breath caught in his throat, and he started calculating how to do what was necessary.
“Let me help you, ma’am. I didn’t realize you were injured. Is it bad?” Jackson leaned down to help them both stand.