COLD FAITH AND ZOMBIES

by Sean Thomas Fisher

  They crossed the Iowa state line into Missouri. Paul looked into the rear-view mirror at the others in the back seat. Matt sat between Dan and Carla while Mike rode with all of their gear in the rear end. It looked like a clown car back there.

  He turned to Sophia in the front seat, keeping the Jeep at a cool thirty-five miles per hour. The morning sun drenched her long raven-colored hair and dark skin, accentuating her Mexican/American exotic glow. Even after days without a shower, she was still beautiful. He loved her more than anything in the world, even the Jeep, which is why he worried about her the most.

  In the movies, if a walker didn’t get you, an armed militia could. There were always splinter groups of former military units or small town Lions Club members who wouldn’t think twice about stealing from the remaining survivors. Food, guns and even women were in high demand now. It was overwhelming to even think about. He knew he could shoot a shambling corpse, but a real life human was another story.

  She flashed him a quick smile and squeezed his right hand.

  “I gotta take a leak!” Dan announced.

  “Just go in your pants,” Paul shot back.

  “Ewwwwe!” Matt and Mike lamented in unison followed by a short burst of laughter.

  “I’m serious, man. I really gotta go!”

  Paul grinned. “Grab an empty water bottle and make yourself a nice little trucker bomb.”

  Mike and Matt laughed even louder.

  Sophia narrowed her eyes at Paul. “Don’t be gross.”

  The wheels crunched through the snow beneath them as the trees whipped by.

  “Mom?” Matt said. “What’s a trucker bomb?”

  “Never mind, Peanut.”

  Mike chuckled again.

  They could be loud now as the Jeep rolled down the interstate with The Black Eyed Peas bragging about how their beats were so big they were steppin on leprechauns. All the while, Dan begging Paul to put in his Flyleaf disc, the second to last thing he grabbed from his Grand Avenue apartment in Des Moines. Said he came this close to forgetting his keys and locking himself out. If he had, they would’ve never seen him again. Paul was glad he hadn’t gaffed it like that. Not only was Dan his best friend, but without both of their shotguns and the half a box of shells between them, they would’ve never even made it to the gun shop.

  “Come on, man. My teeth are floating!” Dan hollered over the Peas.

  Matt subtly scooted closer to his mom to avoid any possible runoff from Dan’s mouth when the Jeep slammed into a leaping deer. Paul fought the wheel for control as deer blood sprayed the front windshield. The SUV fish-tailed through the milky snow, the others screamed. The ABS kicked in and Paul could feel the brake pedal clicking beneath his boot.

  The Jeep’s rear end swung out to the left one more time before sliding back and plunging off into the right side ditch. A thundering crunch filled their ears as the front end plowed up a huge mound of snow. They came to a jerky halt at an awkward angle and the engine died. A thunderstruck silence followed. Time seemed to freeze as they caught their breath. Paul looked to Sophia. She looked okay.

  “Holy crap, I just peed my pants!” Dan said, his mouth agape as he looked down at his lap.

  Matt followed Dan’s eyes and sure enough, he had peed his pants alright.

  “You okay?” Paul asked Sophia.

  She nodded. “Are you?”

  “Yeah,” he said, turning to the others. “Everyone okay?”

  Chapter Six

  The good news was they had crashed out in the open where it would be difficult for anyone or anything to sneak up on them. The bad news was the rig wasn’t going anywhere. The crinkled right front end looked like an accordion and the tire beneath it had peeled off its chrome rim.

  “Unbelievable!” Paul gasped, staring at the mangled tire. “Of all the times for something like this to happen.”

  Dan frowned. “Don’t tell me you let your Triple A run out.”

  Paul shot him a sideways look. “Are you ever serious?”

  “Oh yeah, look who’s talking!” he said, snorting and throwing his soiled underwear and jeans into the field next to them - probably a harvested cornfield but tough to tell with all the snow. After the round of “accidents”, Dan had traded clothes out from his Iowa Hawkeyes duffel bag before getting out of the truck and now had his head on a greased up swivel. “There’s gotta be a car we can snag at the next exit.”

  Paul looked south with him and agreed. What other choice did they have? They would have to hoof it from here, and even though there was a good six or seven hours until nightfall, he felt the need to hurry. “Let’s get all the gear we can carry and get going.”

  Sophia was a strong twenty-eight year old woman and had grown a lot stronger over the past week, but when she found out they would have to walk, she finally lost it. This would be the first time they would have to go anywhere on foot without the Jeep’s handy protection and she didn’t want any part of it. None of them did.

  “I don’t wanna do this anymore,” she said, tears glistening on her cheeks in the sunlight.

  “I know, Sophia, but we don’t have a choice,” he responded, not in the mood for another pep talk. They needed to get moving.

  Luckily, the sun was out and they had only seen two walkers all day and that was way back when they were getting on the interstate. At first glance, Paul thought they were hitch-hikers, but quickly realized they were two mobile Schwan’s guys with no interest in delivering frozen pizzas, corn dogs and ice cream anymore. They had purposely ambled out into the SUV’s path and tried to stop them on the entrance ramp, but Paul had easily swerved around the gruesome twosome and kept going.

  “This is a bad idea,” Carla concluded, literally shaking in her boots outside the open tailgate.

  “You got a better one?” Paul asked, stuffing his coat pockets with clips and ammo.

  “Yeah, let’s stay in the truck and wait for some help to come along.”

  Paul snorted. “The only thing that is going to come along,” he started, looking down to Mike and Matt and deciding not to finish his sentence.

  Dan strapped a spare holster and gun on Carla and showed her how to shoot the gun without actually firing it. The last thing they needed right now was to attract unwelcome attention. Her shiny new gun clicked repeatedly as she practiced loading and ejecting the fifteen round clip with shaking hands. She popped it in and out. Cocked and repeated.

  Paul insisted everyone keep their safeties off. Safeties were for dead men now and reaction time was an Olympic sport. He assured Carla they would do some real target practice after they found another vehicle, but for now silence was golden.

  “Once in the head, huh?” she asked, aiming out over the field, staring down the sight with one eye closed.

  “Yeah, haven’t you ever seen Night of the Living Dead or the remake of Dawn of the Dead?” Dan asked.

  “Nope,” Carla said firmly, still aiming.

  “How is that possible? They’re on a different cable channel like every other day.”

  “I’m more into romantic comedies.”

  Paul and Dan traded looks.

  “Well, then maybe you can give me some advice on how to pick up women,” Dan smirked.

  Carla let out a high-pitched laugh.

  Paul rolled his eyes.

  Two hundred yards later they crested a gentle hill. Paul turned around and took one last look back at his incapacitated truck. The sunlight gleamed off the charcoal gray paint and then it was gone. He turned back around and kept walking through the thick snow, wiping his nose with his glove. “Unbelievable,” he said under his breath for the tenth time.

  “Two Miles!” Dan yelled out from behind the binoculars.

  “Gas station?” Paul asked, squinting up ahead.

  “And a McDonald’s!” he reported back, focusing in on a blue interstate sign down the road.

  “There’s gotta be a car there for sure,” Carla said, fidgeting with her new holster.

  �
��And a kid’s meal!” Matt added.

  “You hungry, buddy?” Paul asked him.

  “I’m starving.”

  “How about you, Mike?” Sophia asked.

  “I was until Dan peed his pants.”

  “Like a little baby!” Matt laughed.

  “I heard that, kid!” Dan replied, stuffing the compact binocs back inside his coat pocket and zipping it shut.

  “Peanut,” Carla warned.

  A mile later, the woods crept up closer to the road. Out the corner of his eye, Paul kept seeing blood-thirsty freaks spring out of the trees like the deer had done. But none came.

  “I’m so scared,” Sophia said, shivering and looking into the woods like she had just seen some of Paul’s imaginary flesh-eaters.

  “I know, hot stuff. I’m scared too,” he admitted, wrapping an arm around her as the snow crunched beneath their boots, the wind burning their faces.

  A shriek went off like a noon whistle up ahead. They froze in their snow-covered tracks. Even the sun couldn’t wash away the horror in that scream.

  “Why do they do that?” Carla asked, grabbing her gun.

  “Now you just take it easy,” Paul said to her. “Keep that thing holstered for now.”

  “Looks like we’re definitely going to have company up ahead,” Dan said glumly.

  Paul sighed. “Let’s keep moving.”

  The heavy snow resumed crunching beneath their boots, making it an even longer, more tiring walk. The quiet didn’t help either. It was too quiet. No cars, no planes, and no snowmobiles racing up and down the white country ditches.

  “I wish I could talk to my mom,” Sophia whispered, watching her footing.

  “I know you do, baby,” Paul replied, thinking the same thing.

  “I’m sorry, Paul. I shouldn’t have said that,” she quickly said.

  “No, it’s okay. I’m sure you’re family is fine.”

  She looked up to his face and he felt like she could tell he was lying. “I just really miss them,” she said, turning her attention back to where she was stepping.

  He didn’t respond. When the radio station he had been working at in Milwaukee flipped to a different format, he had been transferred to another one of the company’s rock stations in Connecticut and after the move, he had heard that statement from her a lot. She was very close with her family and he had felt terribly guilty about dragging her away from them. But this was worse. Much worse. He knew her family didn’t stand a chance in a city that large and he could tell she knew it as well.

  “I don’t even have a picture,” she said distantly, her sniffles beginning to multiply like wet Gremlins. “Sometimes I think I’m starting to forget what they even look like.”

  Paul exhaled a visible sigh, thinking she couldn’t have picked a worse time to have a pity party. They needed to stay on point here. Anything could happen at any minute. His heart ached for her and he searched for the right words to make things better, but found none. Outside of just being there for her, there was nothing he could say or do.

  Chapter Seven

  Paul handed the black binoculars back to Dan, who peered through them again while adjusting the circular dial in the middle. They were at the beginning of an exit ramp with an old Shell station sitting at the other end with a McDonald’s across the street.

  “He’s just doing circles,” Dan whispered.

  “Just the one?”

  Dan rotated the dial. “Hard to tell. There’s two cars at the pumps.”

  “Alright, I say we cut through this field and sneak up from behind the gas station,” Paul said. “Come around the front and start blastin until we find some car keys in someone’s pocket. The remote will tell us which one it starts.” He looked to the others for any better ideas. No one spoke and silence was consent.

  “I’ve got to go to the bathroom,” Sophia said in an antsy whisper.

  “Number two?” Mike asked.

  “Mike!” Carla said.

  “No, not number two. And don’t tell me to go in my pants, I’ve really gotta go.”

  “Well, you can go here or you can hope there isn’t a line up there,” Paul said, nodding towards the gas station.

  She looked to the gas station and turned back to Paul. She glanced back to the gas station, then tromped down into the ditch, pulled her pants down and let her rip.

  Paul turned to Carla and the boys, shaking his head. “You guys ready?”

  They nodded in affirmation with chattering teeth but looked more like they were about to bun-gee-jump for the first time - without a rope.

  Dan stuffed the binoculars back into his pocket as Sophia pulled her pants up and carefully stepped over the yellow snow. They double-checked their weapons for the umpteenth time and quietly moved out into the snow covered field, basking in the sunlight.

  “What kind of feeling are you getting now?” Paul asked Sophia, the two bringing up the rear.

  “A bad one.”

  “I get the feeling that’s gonna be par for the course for awhile here.”

  “You know I love you, right?” she suddenly asked.

  His mouth fell open. “Oh no, you’re not getting that bad a feeling are you?”

  “No, but I just want to make sure you know that.”

  “Of course I know that, babycakes.

  A pheasant fluttered into the air from a nearby bunch of thickets. Everyone drew their weapon on it in a heartbeat. The game bird cooed, flapping its wings and gliding across the field.

  “Just a pheasant!” Dan said, lowering his shotgun and watching the bird disappear into a long tree line on the other side of the field. “Should’ve shot it. We could’ve had pheasant McNuggets for lunch.”

  “Gross,” Matt groaned.

  “Let’s keep moving,” Paul said.

  “Hey, shouldn’t I have a gun or something?” Mike whispered to Paul, carefully plodding along side him through the deep snow.

  “Maybe we’ll get you a knife instead. How does that sound, buddy?”

  His eyes lit up. “Really?”

  “Shhhhh... Yeah, maybe a Rambo knife or somethin.”

  He paused, looking down at his boots. “What’s a Rambo knife?”

  “Ya know, from the movie.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Movie? What movie?” he asked, reminding Paul of just how young he really was.

  “Never mind. We’ll get you something later, big-baller. I promise.”

  “What about me?” Matt piped in, trying to keep up with them. “I’m a Cub Scout!”

  “You are?”

  “Yeah. One time I helped an old lady cross the street too.”

  “Wow,” Paul said. “That was pretty nice of you.”

  “Yeah, but she smelled like chicken soup.”

  Paul snorted. “Ooh, that’s not good.”

  “Yeah, and one time I killed a werewolf,” Matt added between deep breaths.

  Paul looked down at him and frowned. “A what?”

  “A werewolf.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Mike said. “My brother also thinks he can create force fields around him.”

  “I can!”

  “Well then, let’s see ya stop this,” Mike said, scooping up a snow ball and pelting his younger brother right in the face with it.

  Matt brushed the snow off and charged Mike, tackling him to the ground.

  “Whoa!” Dan said.

  “Peanut!” Carla said through gritted teeth, running over to untangle the two. “If you don’t stop it, you are going to bed without dessert tonight!”

  Paul dropped his brow and turned to Sophia, who mimicked his confused expression.

  “So,” Matt said, working his short legs to catch back up to Paul. “Can I have a rainbow knife too?”

  “A wh...? Oh, a Rambo knife,” Paul said, shaking his head. “I think you could use a fully loaded, high-powered Nerf gun instead.”

  Matt looked up at Paul, considering the proposal. “Cool,” he grinned.

  They trudged a
long the bumpy field.

  “Hey Paul?” Mike said.

  “Yeah buddy?”

  “Is there going to be a Christmas this year?”

  His eyes dropped to Mike and a few steps passed before he answered. “Of course, there’s going to be a Christmas this year.”

  “Well,” Mike began. “How do you know that Santa didn’t get turned into one of those things?”

  Paul opened his mouth and squinted. “Well... because his reindeers can fly and they all got away.”

  “Even the elves?”

  “Yep.”

  “What about Mrs. Claus?” Matt asked.

  “Mrs. Claus got away too,” he replied, glancing at Sophia, who actually cracked a smile.

  Mike mulled it all over for a few seconds. “Because I don’t want Santa coming down my chimney if he’s one of those things.”

  Dumfounded, Paul looked back down at Mike’s red face.

  “Will Santa eat us instead of the cookies we leave out for him?” Matt asked, catching back up and quickly falling a couple steps behind.

  “Just keep walking boys,” Carla urged, saving Paul the trouble of answering such a morbid question.

  “If I have to,” Matt panted. “I’ll take Santa out too.”

  “Man!” Paul said, laughing and turning to Carla. “What is wrong with these kids?”

  “Too much TV,” she said flatly.

  “You can never have enough TV!” Mike beamed.

  Paul laughed again. “Wow.”

  They continued towards the gas station while visions of Santa’s blood-stained white beard danced through his head. He saw the jolly man absent-mindedly knock a plate of cookies to the floor with a clatter as he lumbered his way upstairs to the bedrooms. Paul pushed the grisly thought from his head. They would have a Christmas again. Somehow. He refused to let those things win.

  Dan and Paul carefully peeked around the corner of the gas station, praying the crunching of snow and ice beneath their boots hadn’t already given them away. Two empty cars sat parked at the pumps, one of which was a Missouri State Patrol car, and three others sat by the glass front doors.