by Shana Festa
"Yo, this place have a washing machine?"
After showering and wrapping myself in one of the house’s many towels, I retrieved our freshly washed belongings from the dryer and inhaled the fabric softener's lilac aroma. When I passed everyone their respective items, they reveled in the bliss of fluffy, clean attire.
I neatly folded my clothes and set them down in the master bedroom and went through the closet. The fat swimmer lived alone, if I was going by the closet. What is it with us always choosing the house with the biggest inhabitants? I slipped on one of the huge moo-moos and grabbed a couple extra in case the others wanted to preserve the fresh, clean condition of their clothes for as long as they could.
Jake was at the stove cooking four large steaks wearing nothing but a towel. He was a secure man and didn't balk at being half naked. The four of us sat at a real dinner table, under the air conditioning, and ate a meal comprised of real food.
I motioned to the television, "Think there's anything good on?" I asked sarcastically while loading up the dishwasher.
Meg and Vinny ran for the remote, Meg getting there first, and they sat on the sofa, leaning forward with anticipation. She flipped through channel after channel, finding only black screens or gray fuzz. By the time we hit channel twelve, my optimism was squashed, and I bent down behind the sofa to play with Daphne.
The sound of a male voice boomed from the speakers like a ghost in the machine.
"…west on University Parkway to The Ca' d'Zan waterfront mansion. This is a recording. This message will repeat shortly."
"Holy shit!" exclaimed Jake.
We sat shoulder to shoulder on the sofa examining the map displayed on the screen and waited impatiently for the message to repeat itself. On the left side of the map, I could see The Ca' d'Zan circled in red marker. I knelt in front of the television and found Honore Avenue.
"We're close," I said. "If we take a right out of the driveway, University Parkway is only a few blocks up. The Ca' d'Zan is only four or five miles down on that street."
I moved back to the sofa, not wanting to block anyone's view when the loop started again.
"If you are seeing this broadcast, know that you are not alone. A group of survivors have taken over the Ca' d'Zan in Sarasota. This community will grant asylum to all. You must be prepared to do your fair share to maintain the community. For those that wish to find a safe place to thrive, Asylum awaits you. We will open the gates during daylight hours only. We wish you a safe journey. To reach Asylum, head west on University Parkway to the Ca' d'Zan waterfront mansion. This is a recording. This message will repeat shortly."
We watched the same message replay two more times before turning off the television and erupting in a frenzied discussion. We all spoke at once, hurdling questions at each other.
"How do we know this is real?"
"What if we get there and they're gone?"
"What did he mean by fair share?"
"What if they don't allow pets?" Can you guess which question I asked?
Jake threw up his hands. "Everybody shut up. This is getting us nowhere. We can't answer these questions. The only thing we can do is take a family vote."
I raised my hand like a schoolgirl. "Are we going with the majority vote or do we need to be unanimous?"
He thought about it for a minute. "I think this is too big a decision to not be unanimous. We stay together no matter what, and if we aren't all in, then none of us are. Does that sound okay with you?"
We all nodded our heads, and I prayed for this to be easy.
"Okay, here goes. All in favor of finding Asylum raise your hand."
Four hands shot into the air, and we cheered.
"Then it's settled," I declared. "We leave for Asylum first thing in the morning. But tonight, we party!" I went into the kitchen and pulled a cheap bottle of champagne from the top shelf. One bottle split between four people doesn't really make a party, but it at least gave us something to toast with.
We pulled down all the shades and closed the vertical blinds to cover the sliding door to the backyard before settling in to watch a movie. Jake went through the stack of DVDs next to the television, and I heard him laugh.
"What?" I asked.
"Just wait for it," he replied, popping in the movie and cuddling up beside me. When the menu popped up, I groaned.
"Seriously? In the middle of nowhere you manage to pull Couples Retreat out of your ass?"
He just laughed at me and kissed my forehead.
The next morning we took advantage of the luxuries and each of us took another shower. Jake opted to share mine, and he made sure every inch of me was clean…twice. We gathered all the nonperishables and stacked them by the door to make it easy to load them into the truck. Before opening the door, we peered out every window looking for anything hostile. Still nothing.
"You know," said Meg. "It's almost a shame to leave this place. Hot water, electricity, and a packed freezer. This place has everything we need."
"Including two unwanted guests in the pool," Vinny reminded her.
"That too."
In no time, we were packed into the Armada and navigating the winding driveway back to Honore Avenue.
"Jeez," complained Meg, "I don't remember the road being so bumpy yesterday."
University Parkway was a hive of undead activity and we were a magnet, like moths to a flame, for their attention. The road itself was passable, which was encouraging. A narrow strip, large enough for a single car to traverse, was protected by a barrier of vehicles that looked to have been moved to allow passage.
"Someone has definitely been here. These cars have all been moved out of the way. It's a promising sign," noted Jake, more to himself than the rest of us.
"Guys, I don't want to jinx us," said Vinny from the passenger seat, "but I think we have a flat."
Much to my annoyance, I thought he was right. The ride had gotten rougher the longer we drove, and now the truck felt like it was listing to one side. With each rotation of the tires, the sound of floppy rubber slapped down on the pavement.
"Dumb it down for us," said Meg.
Jake and Vinny exchanged knowing looks before speaking again. I caught Jake's eye in the mirror and he shook his head.
"Fuck," I said, "we're going to have to get out and walk, aren't we?"
"What? Are you crazy?" shrieked my sister-in-law, her voice shrill and grating on my ears.
There was no need to answer. C'est la vie. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, I thought. Selfish bastard.
"Put the dog in the bag, gather whatever you can carry, and be ready to run," ordered Jake. "I'm going to keep going as long as I can, but it's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when. This truck isn't making it five miles."
"Can't we just change the tire?" I know what you're thinking. It would have been a dumb question, I agree, but with the barrier the cars made there were few places the dead could get through.
They exchanged another look, effectively causing my good mood to commit suicide. "Enough with the fucking looks, assholes. Spill it!"
Vinny fell on the sword. "I don't think they put spare tires in the floor models."
"You think or you know," I questioned suspiciously.
He sighed and trudged on, knowing his next words would bring about nothing good. "We know. We looked before we left the house this morning."
Don't think it was lost on me that he used we in his response to share the burden of blame with Jake. He may have taken one for the team, but he wasn't going down alone. When I didn't answer, he turned to look back at me, flinching when he saw, what I could only imagine, was smoke rising from my ears and flames spewing from my nostrils.
I was too lost in my own rage to notice Meg shared my sentiment. That is, until she lunged from her seat and repeatedly slapped Vinny on the head, yelling incoherent profanities. I could only make out a few words, and they weren't good ones.
"Ow! Quit it!" He pleaded, never taking his eyes off me, appare
ntly the larger threat.
He was saved further beatings by the truck suddenly lurching to one side.
"Shit!" swore Jake. "Vin, help me with the wheel. I lost power steering. I think we fucked up the driveshaft."
The two managed to straighten us out, but their faces turned red from effort. I like to think we could have gone on like that, all of us helping to keep our forward momentum intact by manhandling the steering wheel, but the wheel proved to be a worthy adversary. A loud bang sounded from beneath us and the ass end of the car fell to skid along the pavement when something broke free and wobbled to its final death in the middle of the street.
Metal screeched as the tail end of the car was dragged along by the powerful engine's four-wheel drive. The truck was pronounced dead when it impacted the line of cars along the left side of the street. The force of the truck opened a gap between the wall of cars, allowing the zombies close by easy access to the Armada, also known as us.
"We gotta jet!" yelled Jake, grabbing his bug-out bag from beside him and jumping the console into the backseat.
The sun was eclipsed by the sheer number of zombies crowding at the driver's side windows, and a glance through the windshield told me that if we didn't move now, we'd be surrounded on all sides.
"Go!" Vinny shouted as he opened his door, using it as a weapon to shove the zombie that had already made its way around the side of the truck.
We moved like a whirling dervish, running as soon as our feet hit the pavement. The weight of my stuffed bag, plus the added weight of Daphne inside the carrier, became a burden, slowing my pace considerably. Jake ran by my side, pulling me by the arm and throwing me off my balance. When I tripped and nearly went down, he grabbed my backpack, and my speed increased.
The problem with sprinting is…well its right there in the word. Sprint. Defined as a short race at full speed. There was only so long the human body could maintain full speed. While I ran, my thoughts drifted back to my anatomy and physiology classes. Running took energy, that energy required oxygen stores; lactic acid builds up in the blood and creates the lactic acid threshold. I wheezed, struggling for oxygen after only a few hundred feet.
"I. Can't. Keep going," I sputtered out between gasps.
Jake turned back, his eyes shifting to whatever was behind me. "Holy Christ! Don't stop!"
Don't turn around, don't turn around, I chanted to myself. I'm my own worst enemy. I couldn't not turn around; every fiber of my being yearned to turn. For the first time in my life, I listened to the inner voice, knowing if I turned around I would either fall flat on my face or shit my pants. Neither option was appealing.
"In there!" I heard Vinny yell. My vision was becoming tunneled, and his voice seemed to come from someplace far away. If I didn't stop soon, my body would stop for me. At least I'd be passed out and unconscious while the zombies ate me.
Chapter 09: Dry Clean Only
We ran through a narrow opening between cars and crossed the sidewalk to enter into an old Laundromat. The small space was empty of zombies, but it wouldn't be long until they broke through the front windows. Four rows of washing machines filled the center aisles, and the walls were stacked with built in dryers. I counted twelve large portholelike glass windows, six on either side of the room, and stacked two high.
"Get inside the dryers," Jake hissed in a low voice.
"What? Are you nuts? We'll suffocate!" protested Meg. She was leaning on one of the machines pressing her hand to a cut on her hip that was bleeding enough to have saturated her pants leg.
"Meg!" I said, my voice shaking. "You're hurt!" I couldn't bring myself to say the word bitten.
"There was a piece of metal sticking out from a car. I caught my leg on it."
"You need stitches." The wound was a deep, jagged cut.
Jake stood in front of a dryer stack and pulled out the lint trap, then knelt down to poke his head in.
"It'll have to wait," he ordered. "Pull out the lint trap and get inside. Hurry the fuck up. They're coming."
We chose machines on the bottom row and followed Jake's instructions. I pulled the long-dry clothes from the machine and climbed in, scrunching Daphne's carrier in beside me. Before I could lean out to yank the door closed, Jake slammed it into place.
"I love you," he said, looking in at me one last time before shutting the door.
"I love you, too," I choked out past the growing lump in my throat.
Across the aisle I could see Meg tucked away in the dryer. For her tiny body, the dryer was a palatial mansion. For me, it was a tight squeeze, and I shuddered to think what it was like for Vinny. The poor guy was probably kissing his knees, or even worse, finally flexible enough to perform the act that every man wishes for.
I was trying to reposition myself when the first set of dirty gray legs appeared, soon followed by more, until I could no longer see Meg through the decrepit forest of limbs. There was no question that I was getting air through the open vent, but with so many rotters, it was not even close to being fresh. My cramped round bubble of doom smelled like death, and not the flowery funeral home scent one would normally associate with death. Of course, I mean normally as in the pre-zombie era. It was foul and rancid. Pick an adjective for smells like ass, calculate the sum of all the words and multiply it by infinity; that is how bad it smelled.
Daphne whined and scratched at the mesh lining of the carrier, wanting out of the bag and into my arms. In the spirit of not risking a bark of insistence, I complied, taking great care to make as little noise as possible. I knew full well this would bite me in the ass if I had to run for my life again, but I could only deal with one issue at a time, and our current predicament trumped a future one.
I held her tight to my chest and whispered in her ear, she loved the vibration my voice made up against her, and she leaned into it. It began to concern me that I couldn't see anyone. For all I knew, they'd made a meal out of my family, and I was about to be dessert. Try as I might, I just couldn't convince myself to think happy thoughts. Out of sight was not even remotely out of mind, and my imagination was running rampant.
The dog growled, and I clamped my hand over her muzzle, making a shushing sound against her fur. An arm shot in front of the window, startling me. I made to snatch up the dog carrier to tip it sideways as a visual barrier between me and the zombie dragging itself, but I froze when the profile of its face came into view inches away from my hiding place.
My outstretched hand trembled, mimicking the rest of my body, and I held my breath, hoping it would continue its sluggish drag. Slowly, the zombie's head turned toward me, like a creepy antique doll possessed by demons, and its lifeless eyes locked onto me. I didn't move a muscle. I just stared back, willing it to look through me and keep going.
Feeling threatened, Daphne leapt from my arms and threw herself against the glass. Little droplets of her frothy saliva coated the window and she barked and growled with a ferocity I'd never seen before.
I felt my throat constrict and began to whimper. Tears flowed down my cheeks in thick trails. The zombie snapped at me behind the glass, the impact on the thin barrier causing reverberation like a cannon boom in the tight quarters. I shrieked in terror and cupped my hands over my mouth while I ineffectively attempted to push myself farther away from the beast. My stomach knotted up and I felt the prickle of hair on my arms standing on end.
By now, the other zombies had been alerted to my presence and their legs converged on my location. One by one, they dropped to their knees and struggled to reach me, climbing over one another without pause. Just before the last bit of glass was covered by their misshapen faces, I glimpsed Meg across the aisle, eyes gleaming and mouth agape with horror.
Countless hands pounded the glass, adding to the cacophony like the constant beat of a bass drum, and I was inside the drum. I pressed my hands to my ears and squeezed my eyes shut and began to scream with rage. After a while, my throat became raw and my screams were replaced with a raspy wheeze that mimicked the undead.
I leaned back against the cold steel of the dryer, hearing nothing but my wheezing breath and the growls of the undead as they fought to find a way into my tomb. My body slumped in defeat and I stared out the window, taking in all the ghastly features of the ghoulish corpses. Like snowflakes, each zombie was unique. Cruel, razor thin lips pulled back in a grimace, exposing blackened gums and rotting teeth with remnants of their last meals still clinging to the jagged tools of mastication.
My eyelids fluttered shut, and I allowed myself a brief smile while I pictured my husband's face. We were at the beach splashing each other in the ocean. He pulled me to him and kissed me, soft and sensual, and I wrapped my legs around him, kissing him back with passion. I drew back to look into his eyes and ran my hands through his thick locks, sighing in contentment. He was my world.
I watched in fascination as the clouds began to melt out of the sky. Like paint thinner splashed onto a canvas, my surroundings blurred into a muddy brown as the colors mixed together. Confused, I turned back to Jake and gasped as his face melted away, revealing a skinned and maggot-infested corpse. He drew me closer, black tongue darting out and sliding over his broken teeth.
My eyes shot open, and I flailed out my arms in defense, swatting at nothing. Panting, I steeled myself and looked at my tormentors, still vying for my flesh.
"Crap," I said to myself, the sound of my voice incensing the zombies. "Just go away," I pleaded. Squinting in the dim light, I looked down at my watch. We'd been stuck in the Laundromat for six hours, and it looked like we'd be here a lot longer. Most likely, this would be our final stop.
Cramps and muscle spasms wracked my bent legs. What I wouldn't give to stretch them out. Daphne hadn't moved from her guardian position at the window. She sat, alert, watching to make sure they didn't get in.