Season of the Dead

by Adams, Lucia

  “Give the radio to your aunt for a sec. I just need to tell her something. Over.”

  “Hehe, I forgot to say over and you didn’t catch me. Over.”

  “Good one, Big Ragoo, now can you hurry up and give Sharon the radio? Over.”

  The next voice I heard was Sharon’s. She cut straight to the point.

  “Is there something up?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Dogs. Wild ones.”

  “So?”

  “Remember when you found me at the lake?”

  She giggled. “Yes. Are you going to tell me dogs tore your clothes off?”

  “No. They were chasing me, and I don’t think they were looking to be scratched behind the ear.”

  There was a pause, then she said, “What should we do about it?”

  “We? Nothing. You guys keep on toward your lake. I’ll stay back here and deal with it so the kids don’t see.”

  “No. We all go or we all stay,” she stated firmly. “As tough as it will be for Parker to see, this is our reality now.”

  “No, you go on. There were only two, and I think they were poodles or some shit. Really, I’m good. I’ll catch up to you after I put them out of my misery.”

  Sharon didn’t say anything for a long time, but Parker had returned to the rear window and was clapping and pointing excitedly over my shoulder.

  Just as I was about to key the mic to repeat myself, Sharon’s voice came through: “Fine, but if you get eaten by poodles, I’m going to make jokes about it later on.”

  “If that happens you totally have my permission to dis me after death.”

  I slowed to a stop, hit the kickstand, and then swung my leg over the bike. Above the uneven chug of my engine, I heard them. They were close. I’d counted four of them back in Field, but these might not have even been the same dogs. For all I knew they could have ended up being fucking werewolves. Whatever they were, though, they weren’t following us to the lodge. We had enough problems ahead without having to fend off a pack of dogs, like Grizzly Adams or some shit.

  I don’t know if it was boldness in the fact that they had me surrounded, or that they were so desperate they didn’t care, but one by one they padded out onto the dirt road and stalked—yes, stalked—toward me. In all, at least from what appeared before me in the road, there were five mutts, a pair of tan-and-white cockers, and a wraith-thin German Shepherd. Great, the four I’d seen earlier had brought friends.

  But so did I. And I also had a plan, sort of.

  Before loading supplies into the UPS van back at the farm, I’d procured a few weapons and some ammo for the trip back to the lodge. Thank God one of them was the six-shot pump shotgun I hoisted from where it hung from the back of my bitch seat.

  I scanned the surrounding trees until I found one with a low enough branch for me to hoist myself up, then took off toward it, firing over my shoulder as I ran. I made it there ahead of the dogs, but just barely. One of the cockers had latched onto my pant leg and it took a few shakes to kick it free.

  Once situated, I swung the big shotgun over my shoulder and lowered it to fire. Four of the dogs exploded into piles of twitching, fuzzy sausage links, but three others scattered and ran. At the back of my mind, even as I chambered another round, my head-count came up one short. The Shepherd had disappeared. The three that had run away didn’t run far. Hunger, combined with the promise of fresh meat, overpowered their flight instinct. I had only to wait for them to try to move in and eat the dead dogs below the tree, and—boom—they’d be soup.

  “Here, boys,” I whispered, as I lined up the closest one, one of the caramel cockers. “Come and get it: fresh, meaty Rover surprise. Yum-yum.”

  I was so engrossed in watching the smaller dogs slink toward me that I’d forgotten about the Shepherd, which hadn’t chased me up the tree with the rest of them. I’d foolishly thought it was smart enough to take off when I first fired. As it turned out, not so much. Also, a fact I decided to remember if I lived through the ordeal, was that Shepherds, while they are big, heavy dogs, can jump like motherfuckers.

  In my panicked state, I saw it lunge at the last second from the corner of my eye—a snarling, flying bear, soaring in to snatch me up and eat my guts for breakfast. It knocked me from the tree and lunged for my throat even before we struck the ground. Instinctively, I grabbed him by the upper front legs and twisted, so I’d land on top. When we hit the ground, I heard a snap as my elbow sunk deep into the fur at its neck. Before I could gain my feet, the remaining three dogs were on me, tugging ineffectually at my pants and leather coat. All three dogs were small and likely weakened from hunger and constantly having to outrun the deadies, so finishing them off was easy. The hard part would come later, after I fell asleep and dreamed of this.

  Yes, these dogs would’ve eventually led the dead up the mountain to the lodge, but knowing that didn’t stop the ache in my heart for killing them. Most of them wore tags; they’d been some kid’s best friend. Then I thought of Parker and Kitty. I’d had no trouble with the dogs because I’d been able to shut myself away from the emotions that would’ve allowed them to kill me. I don’t know much about greater good, but I think that’s what this was. I filed the experience away in my head vault under ‘Mercy Killing’, then mentally slammed the drawer.

  If there’d been any more dogs, I’m sure they would’ve already tried to take a chomp out of me, so I wiped any telltale signs of blood from my jacket and hopped back on my bike. In minutes, I was behind the bus. Sharon waved at me from her rear-view.

  I honked and Parker appeared at the rear window. He pointed at his walkie-talkie, then at me, and shrugged. My hand went to my collar, but the radio was gone.

  I thought back to the Shepherd and the crunch I’d heard when we landed. The radio had saved my life. When it lunged for my throat, it had latched onto the radio instead of me. I smiled, suddenly—but not for the first time—thinking there might just be someone up there in the sky watching over me.

  I winked up at him, jabbed a thumb over my shoulder and returned his shrug. By the time we stopped I’d figure out a shiny enough lie for him.

  When I spotted what must be the lodge up ahead, I saluted at him, then throttled up and passed the bus and UPS van. I thought it would be best if I took the lead. The term ‘ladies first’ was cool and all, but wasn’t very practical during a zombie apocalypse.

  CHAPTER 34

  Lucia

  I had two things going for me—the allure of my friendly squirrel suit, and my enthusiastic joy at seeing other humans. I assumed the group found those two qualities things they either couldn't repel, or couldn't escape. I gushed all over them like shit on a Velcro toilet seat. I forgot things like I was an outsider, and how just a week ago I had encountered humans that did not value my life.

  I asked their names over and over again, not because I couldn't remember them, but it was a simple joy to encounter humans with names...humans with clear eyes, four limbs, and who didn't smell like a cadaver omelet. If they were a field of daisies, I was rolling all over them. I resisted hugging and kissing all of them. I even told them my name—my real name. I wanted to chatter and be chatted to, but Sharon was too sensible and organized to allow me to piss away our sunlight.

  Even Parker helped to carry things into the house, although we hadn’t even come close to unloading everything. The last trip between the trucks and the lodge was made when the sky was a dusky purple. My UPS truck and all of the items I'd been hoarding remained my only connection to comfort over the past few weeks. But now… now I’d have ahome.

  The lodge was beautiful—like a retreat I'd once visited in some buried part of my subconscious because I’d been performing duties on auto-pilot for too many days. The others tolerated my paranoia as I tested each window and door to make sure they were locked…then I searched every room. Once I felt safe, I settled down and started checking all of the people. We were all ‘fine’. Survivors didn't know how to be anything other than okay. Life was a slippery incli
ne down from handling everything and at the bottom was the only option—being eaten alive. I suspected none of us had any choice but to keep climbing upwards over the past few weeks.

  Sharon was upstairs, running a bubble bath in the Jacuzzi for Parker. “It's nice to hear a child laugh,” I said. “I never thought I'd hear that again. The last kids I heard hissed and growled at me.” Kitty’s demeanor was drained as she slumped in her chair, listening to me. “I'm glad we have him.”

  “I'm not.” She gave me a horrified look. “I mean, as bad as this world was, the one he'll grow up in is even worse. I want to cry for him.”

  “It makes staying alive that much more important,” I said as I slowly stood up from the couch.” I should help Gerry—he's trying to scrape dinner for five out of such an odd array of supplies.”

  “I guess I have to help?” Kitty asked as she reluctantly rose.

  I jumped up and grabbed her arm. “Nonsense. Stay here and I'll help him.”

  She sat back down and I went into the back kitchen area. Gerry was frying potatoes and I smelled corn bread. “Well, damn! You can cook.”

  “Are you surprised?” he asked.

  “No, just thankful as fuck. I wasn't sure what I'd find when I came back here. Want some help?”

  “You're going to cook in that squirrel suit?”

  “Seriously, you'll thank me. This fur is the only barrier between you and the smell of a girl that hasn't taken a shower in weeks. Baby wipes just don't get the job done, if you know what I mean.”

  Gerry laughed and handed me two apples. “Cut these up for the kids. I could only find two, so we'll let them have them. I don't know where everything's at in this kitchen, so there might be more apples.”

  “Ha! Don’t let Kitty hear you calling her a kid. She’s 13 going on 45,” I said. Gerry chucked and nodded his head. “How long have you been here?”

  “I’m new, just like you.”

  “Oh.” My mouth watered as I cut the apples into neat sections. “So, you just met Sharon too?”

  “Yep.” He stirred the potatoes in the skillet and cracked the oven door to peek at the corn bread.

  “I thought Sharon was your wife at first.”

  Gerry shook his head. “None of us are related. We've all lost our families.”

  “Yeah, me too. I mean—obviously. I'm alone, so…”

  “You wanna set the table when you're done?”

  “Sure!” I was thankful he changed the subject. We all wore our loss differently, but there was a familiarity to it that we could all sense.

  *

  I sat at the end of the table near Parker. I'd never seen a child awash with sadness more than him, so I insisted I was a squirrel and had to eat like one. He laughed when I held a potato slice with the tips of both of my hands and nibbled it. I stuffed my cheeks with cornbread and tried to hold a straight face. I looked down at Kitty, Sharon, and Gerry, my cheeks round and expanded, and said, “What?” They all laughed and I started to chew.

  “Okay, seriously,” I leaned across the table towards Parker, “I'm only half-squirrel. It's like my super-hero alter-ego. The other half of the time I'm just an ordinary person, so I'm not always going to pretend I'm a squirrel, okay?”

  He nodded his head and giggled. I winked at him, “Our secret…sshhh.”

  So many questions were pounding at me to ask the group, but we settled on polite get-to-know-you conversation, carefully sidestepping our predicament and zombie talk while Parker was at the table. After dinner, Kitty took Parker off to play and we gathered in the main room to talk.

  “I have a lot of supplies in my UPS truck. I'd like to carry all of it inside and I’m excited for you guys to see the stuff I have.”

  “The bus is pretty full, too.” Sharon nodded.

  “True,” Gerry nodded his head at Sharon. “We can take turns tomorrow: two carriers, one lookout, and one person can stay inside with Parker.”

  I liked the idea of having a lookout. I was still terrified, even though I'd been alone for so long. There was safety in numbers—that was in the zombie guide book that I assumed none of us had ever read.

  “I also think we should set up some sort of booby-traps around the lodge. Maybe some type of alert system or something. Not too long ago, I ran into a bunch of rednecks who had established some sort of camp and they were hostile.”

  “I encountered an interesting group like that as well,” Gerry nodded.

  Sharon's eyes widened. “How frightening! I assumed some of the population would turn out that way. I think the booby traps are a good idea.”

  “Maybe after we gather all of our supplies we can see what we have that's useful.”

  “We don't have many supplies left in the lodge, so I think it's a good idea,” Sharon said. “I hear the kids quieting down. I think it's their bedtime.”

  Sharon slid to the edge of her seat, “How should we do this? Break off into rooms?”

  “I don't know if I'll be able to sleep. This place is so big. Shouldn't we take turns being lookout?” I asked.

  The group exchanged glances, and Gerry spoke up, “I'll take lookout for tonight and689 the rest of you can sleep.”

  “You'll be so tired for tomorrow though, Gerry,” Sharon said.

  “A nap in the morning, some coffee, and I'll be fine,” he said.

  Sharon raised her eyebrows, “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I'm sure. Now go off to bed.”

  I scratched my arm through my squirrel suit. “I can't sleep just yet. I'll stay awake with Gerry until I'm ready to sleep. Does it matter which bedroom I take?”

  “Nope, any one is fine,” Sharon said. “Parker and I are in the one to the left of the top of the stairs. I’ll put Kitty in the end room beside ours because it has its own bathroom.”

  “Oh, I think she’ll like that,” I said.

  We all said goodnight as Sharon went upstairs.

  Gerry looked at me, “Well, I've been dying to make some of her coffee.”

  “Cool! I'll watch.”

  We stood up and I followed him into the kitchen. He pulled the coffee pot out, plugged it in, filled the pitcher with water, and then turned around and looked at me. I was wide-eyed, watching him, just as I said I would.

  “Are you always this… alert?” he asked.

  “Oh, no. I'm high on amphetamines,” I said with a giant smile. “Don't worry, I'm not some drug addict. I've just been taking them to stay awake since I've been alone.”

  “You don't say,” he laughed.

  “I’m sure I'll crash soon. I haven't taken any since before I met you guys.”

  “That'll be one hell of a crash.” He scooped coffee into the filter and shut the lid. His mug was ready in his hand when the machine stopped dripping the coffee into pot.

  “Do you miss coffee?” I asked.

  “Yes, I haven't had a cup in weeks.” He held the full cup between his hands and took a cautious sip. “Do you want a cup?”

  “No thanks. I don't need another thing that'll keep me awake.”

  “I bet. Wanna go back into the big room?”

  “Yep!”

  I followed him and stood in front of the fireplace. “It's so nice and warm. I feel like I've been cold for so long.” I sat on the floor in the glow of the fire. “So, tell me about yourself.”

  *

  I woke up, curled in a ball, with my hands under my head. The fire wasn't as big, but Gerry was still sitting in the same chair he had been in when I fell asleep. I quickly sat upright.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Gerry looked up from his book. “You fell asleep exactly two minutes into my life story.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “That's okay.” He took a sip of his coffee.

  “What are you reading?”

  “Still Life with Woodpecker. Have you ever read it?”

  “No.” I squirmed around and combed my hair with my fingers. “Did I snore?”

  Gerry smiled. “No.”
r />   “Now I know you're lying.”

  “Honest, you didn't snore, and if you did, I wouldn't have heard it over all of your farting.”

  “Gerry!” I made a scrunchy face and turned red.

  “Calm down, I'm just kidding. You were as quiet as a squirrel rug.”

  I shot him a doubtful look.

  “I swear. I nearly wiped my feet on you. You didn't make a sound.”

  *

  Not long after I woke up, Gerry and I made breakfast. The others came downstairs just as we finished it. Sharon tried to hide her yawns, but we all noticed.

  “I'd ask you how you slept, but I'm sure you'd say ‘fine’,” I said.

  “How did you know?” she smiled.

  “Because we'd all say that.”

  Parker insisted I eat my breakfast like a squirrel, and a large amount of crumbs collected in my fur.

  “Are you the Super-Squirrel since you still have your suit on?” Parker asked.

  I nodded my head and winked at him. “I'm almost never a real girl anymore.”

  “You know, you kinda smell,” Parker said.

  “Oh yeah, well that's one of my super powers.” I glanced down the table at the others. “What? I'll shower as soon as I get a chance.”

  “Squirrels don't shower,” laughed Parker.

  “I know. Squirrels hate water, that's why I've been avoiding it. I'd rather just groom myself.” I licked the back of my hand and pretended to stroke it down my hair a few times. “All better.”

  Parker leaned over the table a little bit and sniffed loudly. “I don't think that worked.”

  Parker giggled and I sighed. After we were done eating, we all rushed Gerry off to take a nap while I cleaned up, and Kitty and Sharon spent time with Parker.

  *

  Gerry and I decided to unload the vehicles while Kitty was lookout.

  “We need to do this fast. You unload onto a pile and I’ll carry it into the house.” He gave the instructions as he checked around the yard.

  “It's so quiet here,” I said, looking around at the woods.

  “Don't think about it. You'll just spook yourself. Ready?”

  It had snowed a little the night before, and the wind was cold. My fur suit kept me warm, but not warm enough. It was too hard to unload things with my squirrel head on, so I had left it inside the lodge.