“Nothing,” Chris said.
“We were talking about pulling out the radio. We need to find out what’s going on out there,” Stephanie said, as she climbed over Steve’s legs to fetch him a drink.
The two men sat across from each other in silence. The lights were up just high enough to barley make out each other’s facial features, casting shadows that grew into children’s monsters. Chris felt that at any moment the front door would come crashing open and a dozen undead zombies would flood into the room and tear them to ribbons. His chest felt heavy.
“Nice job on the hot water, douche bag.” Steve tossed a loose pillow across the couch at Chris.
“I do what I can,” Chris replied with a smile, blocking the pillow with his arms.
When Stephanie came back into the living room, not only did she have a cup of tea for Steve, but two pillows, a set of blankets, and a small battery powered AM/FM radio. “Here you go,” she said balancing the glass of tea in her hand with the blankets. “The batteries in this thing may not work, but it’s worth a shot.”
After dialing through all of the channels, Chris was only able to find one that worked. The signal was weak and mostly static, but it came in clear enough. The three sat in the living room, listening intently. What they could make out was a repeated message. Stay indoors, stay calm, the National Guard is on alert, and a confirmation that the attackers were the dead returning to life.
Just when they thought they heard it all, a report that the National Guard was setting up safe zones, interrupted the broadcast. Air support would be available to transport the injured to triage centers for medical treatment. Of the half dozen shelter locations mentioned, Stephanie counted two that were near enough for them to consider.
“This may be the chance we were hoping for,” Stephanie said. “The military should be able to hold those things off until a final solution can be found.”
“And if a final solution isn’t found, what then? We made it out alive tonight, because we kept our heads down,” Chris said. “Those shelters are going to be overrun with people. You know what happens when large groups of people make a lot of noise. It’s like calling pigs to the trough. Sounds risky. What do you think, Steve?”
“Hell, don’t ask me.” Steve laid back on the couch, punching buttons on his cell phone. “Snake!” He waved the phone. “About to beat my high score! Finally.”
“Look, Chris, I know you want to get home and see your parents. But maybe one of these shelters can help you get there,” Stephanie said.
“I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right. I sense trouble.” Chris remembered the hooligans at the gas station. “People revert to animals under extreme stress.”
“That’s true, but it also can bring out the best as well.” Stephanie said.
Stephanie was right. Chris did want to go home.
“Well, before we make any other move, I say we get some shut eye. We can talk about it in the morning. Maybe, there’ll be another update on the radio. We are safe here, so there should be no rush to hit the streets and put ourselves in harm’s way. We need clear heads to make an escape.”
“I can agree with that,” Stephanie nodded.
They decided that all of them would sleep in the same room. Stephanie retrieved a pillow and blanket for herself, and then joined the boys in the living room. Chris graciously gave up his spot for her, taking the floor instead of the couch. The house was pitch-black with all the lights turned off.
Faint moans of the dead drifted through the silence. Thoughts of the dead breaking in and attacking jolted Chris awake and his body fought to sleep. It was destined to be a restless night.
Chris eventually got up, dug through his backpack, and found the handgun. Stephanie tossed for a while. He wondered what it was that she was dreaming, but he was afraid that he already knew. He thought about waking her, but she soon settled back down. Steve lay motionless, not unlike he did while traveling in the van. He slept like a child without a worry in the world. A peaceful smile crept across his lips. Chris had known Steve long enough to know he was probably dreaming of a woman. More than likely, this time, it was Stephanie.
Chris lay back down and tucked the gun away under his pillow. If he did decided to head for Tennessee, he dreaded what he might find. He wasn’t prepared for a horrible truth. It probably was best wait for this madness to end first before taking any further risk gallivanting over the country. What Stephanie had said made a lot of sense. Someone at one of these shelters could help.
After what seemed like hours, his mind finally shut out the endless questions. The only thing that filled the night was the distant moans of the dead who were still in search of food.
* * *
Chris awoke to a bladder that felt three sizes too big and he had to go. It was still dark out and Steve and Stephanie were both in the land of dreams. They both lay unmoving on each side of the L-shaped couch, feet meeting in the middle. Standing, Chris quietly made his way through the unfamiliar space. His head was groggy and his previous dreams clouded his mind.
Was the bathroom to the right or to the left? He thought, while trying his best not to bump into anything.
After a few wrong turns and an unintended visit to the kitchen, he found himself standing in the bathroom. He waved his hand across the wall until he found the light switch. He stood for a moment and waited for his eyes to adjust.
Lifting the toilet lid, Chris went about his business. He felt instant relief as he took aim and peed, using one hand to balance against the wall. The damp cupcake towel lay wadded up next to his blood soaked shirt. The floor was still wet from the mess that Steve had made when he stepped out of the shower. The gun sat on the bathroom sink.
Wait a second, I don’t remember carrying that in here. It’s supposed to be under my pillow, he thought.
Finishing, Chris zipped up and reached for the gun. “This doesn’t make any sense at all,” he said aloud, examining the weapon.
A noise in the living room made Chris jump. He made sure the safety was off and stepped out the bathroom door. Steve and Stephanie were still sleeping on the couch.
What the hell was that noise?
Just after that thought, a crashing thud against the living room door jolted him to attention. Steve and Stephanie both sprang up into a sitting position.
“What is it?” Stephanie said.
“Something is at the door!” Chris shouted and checked the gun again.
The noise returned, sounding like a thousand hands trying to beat the door down all at once. And that’s just what they did. The door came crashing open! A dozen undead ghouls spilled through the front door and into the dark living room. The stink of rotting meat filled the air, but that wasn’t the only thing. In a harmonious arrangement of tattered vocal chords and shattered throats, the dead moaned in excitement.
“Oh shit!” Steve screamed and bolted over the couch in one giant leap.
The dead staggered into the room faster than Chris had ever seen them move. The wave of bodies at the back forced their way forward and pushed the lead zombies through like an open floodgate of gnashing teeth. The first ghoul crashed into the coffee table face first, as it stumbled on Chris’ pillow. Its head cracked open on impact, but the table held. The creature raised its head and its teeth fell out onto the glass table, one by one. Blood poured from the zombie’s rank mouth, as it snarled in Chris’ direction.
“Get in the kitchen!” Chris raised the handgun into the air. “Go! Now!”
More than a dozen zombies filled the room, more following close behind. The front yard was littered with the dead. They didn’t have enough ammunition to fend them all off. All they could do was run!
Chris took a shot before retreating to the kitchen. The gun’s loud report filled the house. The bullet found its target and the ghoul jerked back violently. A wide spray of pink and meaty chunks erupted from its mouth. It regained its footing and continued with a ragged maw where his mouth had previously been. Chris had mi
ssed the brain. The zombie lumbered forward with renewed vigor. It moaned with an enlarged taunting snarl. Its torn cheek stretched wide, as it groaned, tearing the flesh even more. Blood gushed onto the carpet.
More of the dead came from around the couch on both sides, closing in.
“Chris, we need to move!” Stephanie called from the kitchen.
Chris darted through the house with the weapon at the ready. He found his two companions in the kitchen, both glaring with wide eyes out a window and into the backyard. An undead sea of walking corpses surrounded the house. Some of them waited at the back door.
“We are so fucked!” In a fit of terror, Steve threw his glasses across the room.
“What do we do?” Stephanie cried.
The door leading to the backyard kicked open. The deadbolt gave way, sending splintered wood and shattered drywall into the air. The dead had them surrounded and there was nowhere to turn.
“End of the line,” Steve said, grabbing anything he could find to use as a weapon.
First, it was a toaster, and then the microwave. Item after item, both electronic devices and kitchen utensils flew through the air colliding with the undead pursuers. A large steak knife stuck deep in the collarbone of a zombie. The creature was unfazed as gore oozed down across the tile. The zombie slipped in its own red plasma, falling face first. Before the creature had time to stand, Stephanie came down with a forceful swing, wielding a black iron skillet. The blow fractured the zombie’s temple with a deafening crash. The zombie’s head caved in, sending its internal muck across the floor. The creature had met its end.
Chris frantically scanned the room for any sign of an exit. The dead in the living room were closing in and they wouldn’t be able to hold off the ones at the kitchen door for long. “The window above the kitchen sink!” He dashed for it.
Just as he arrived, a putrid, maggot filled, skinless head smashed through the glass. The creature pulled itself up and through the window with a violent howl of rage. Small shards of glass poked out of the ghoul’s mangled face.
“I got this!” Steve shouted.
Steve tried to cut a path into the backyard. Creatures grabbed and pulled. Teeth sank into arms and legs, but he persisted. He screamed as the dead swarmed over him.
Chris felt the events around him were surreal.
Okay . . . this has definitely got to be a dream. Steve is anything but the self-sacrificing type.
Chris raised his gun at Steve and aimed through the swarm of undead. Just before Chris pulled the trigger, the zombies making their way in through the living room reached the kitchen. There was no way out.
Chris’ index finger tensed and the gun shook. Steve’s head exploded in a cascade of reds, pinks, and long dark hair.
Chapter Five
The shots rang out again, but that wasn’t what woke Chris. Stephanie was shaking his shoulder and shouting his name, startling Chris from his nightmare. Shots fired again, louder this time, more real than in his dreams. The living room was bright with the morning sunlight, as it leaked in through the window curtains. The front door remained shut and none of the undead was storming in. Steve was still alive. The skinny drummer, wearing his tight pants, stood looking out one of the living room windows, waving Stephanie and Chris both over.
“I think we might have a little problem.”
“What time is it?” Chris said, sitting up on the floor, just after checking under his pillow. The gun was still there. His head was swarming with confusion, as he tried to piece together his thoughts. Faint images of the awful dream still clouded his mind.
“It’s almost noon. Now get up,” Stephanie said, after glancing at her light pink and baby blue wrist watch. She reached down with one hand and pulled Chris to his feet.
Just as she started to say something else, the report of rifle fire rang out. It came from nearby.
“What the hell is going on?” Chris said, as he slipped on his shoes. He grabbed the handgun from under the pillow and stuck it into the back of his pants.
Shots echoed out again. The moans of the dead were close, too close. It sounded as if hundreds of them were waiting just outside the house like in Chris’ nightmare, but it was real this time. Chris and Stephanie met Steve at the window.
The living dead surrounded the next-door neighbor’s house; the only other home untouched by last night’s looting and rioting. There was close to fifty or sixty in number. With the sun beating down on their cold, lifeless bodies, they looked more gruesome than ever. Their pale skin looked dry and leathery. The gaping wounds were swarming with flies. The pus of infection seeped from each maggot filled sore. The dead were decomposing. The hot sun exacerbated the process. Those not wandering about were steadily pounding to get into the home.
“Holy shit,” Chris whispered. He pulled the gun back out, feeling a bit more secure with it in his hand.
“I don’t think they even know we’re here,” Stephanie said.
“They may not,” Steve said. “But he sure as hell does.” Steve pointed to the neighbor’s roof.
An older man and woman stood waving their arms about. A little boy sat with his arms crossed, staring down at the dead. Based on how young he looked, there was no way he belonged to the older couple. He had short brown hair and was wearing a Thor t-shirt. As he sat on the roof looking down at the dead, he swung his fake Thor hammer-toy in the air as if to cause thunder to trike the zombies dead. The man on the roof knew that Chris and his friends had finally sighted him. The man might have been in his late fifties, but it was hard to tell. He wore a blue flannel long sleeve shirt tucked into his khaki work pants. He held a long-range rifle in one hand. Undoubtedly, the gun got their attention. At his feet was a large hiking pack. The female’s gray, poufy hair and chubby cheeks reminded Chris of the one and only Mrs. Claus. She wore a long flowing yellow sundress and no shoes. Blood stained the dress around the knees and below.
How long have they been up there and what was it that caused the dead to be attracted to that house and not Stephanie’s? Chris waved and the man smiled in relief.
“I think these guys are expecting us to help them, dude.” Steve stepped away from the window and plopped himself down on the couch.
“And we should,” Stephanie said.
Out in the street, past the front yard, a multitude of zombies lumbered forward toward the couple on the roof. With arms raised, and a harmonious group call, their numbers grew.
“Not a fat chance in hell we are,” Steve kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “Look at how many of those things is out there. They don’t stand a chance, and neither do we, if we go sticking our necks out!”
“Well, it’s only a matter of time,” Chris said. He paced across the room and picked up his backpack.
“Oh and you plan to be the hero, do you?” Steve asked.
“We have to do something! It only takes one.”
“One?” Stephanie questioned what Chris might have meant.
Chris looked up with terror in his eyes. “It only takes one of those things out there to notice that we’re in here and the rest of them will be on us in seconds. We have to move.”
“What? Just leave those people up there to die? I don’t think so!” Stephanie said.
“No, I’m not saying we leave them high and dry, but there’s nothing we can do from here. We need to get the hell out of here before we are in the same predicament as they are. Last thing I want is to die on the roof across from some other people doing the same.”
“Well then, what?” Stephanie asked. Following Chris’ lead, she started putting on her shoes. She slung the hunting rifle that she had snagged last night around one shoulder.
“If the two of you think you’re going to talk me into going out there, you’re out of your fucking minds.” Steve crossed his arms and slouched lower into the couch.
“Fine by me,” Chris said, walking toward the kitchen. “My dream last night…you died… before I shot you in the face! Stay here, and if they break i
n and start eating you, at least it will give us a head start.”
Steve’s eyes grew wide. “We need more of a plan than, ‘okay let’s go!’ What the hell are we going to do then?”
“What about the car?” Stephanie asked.
Chris stopped mid-stride and turned to face Stephanie, and then went to the front door and looked into the yard. The longer they waited, the harder it was going to take to make things happen. The number of zombies in the street was growing. More headed toward the house next door from down the street.
“This freaking sucks.” Chris looked around the room and rubbed his fingers through his curly hair, and then his focus went back to the window. “I was really hoping to just hunker down for a day or two while we come up with a real plan. So much for that idea. Assuming we do get to the car and miraculously get them off the roof, where would we go? As much as hitting the rescue stations the radio mentioned sounds smart, I don’t have time for that. I need to get back to Tennessee!”
After a few moments of contemplation, Chris turned his attention from the dead outside to Steve and Stephanie. With bat in hand and rifle at the ready, they looked like warriors from an alternate universe. He smirked at the thought and then finally spoke. “Okay, we somehow signal the neighbors that we came up with a plan and are coming back. Then we sneak out the back, undetected, God willing, and get the car. It may take a while, but I think we could pull off the same stunt from last night. Come back, pick up our new friends, and call it a day. Thoughts?”
No one said anything. If they were scared right then, Chris couldn’t tell. He sure as hell was, and he wondered if it showed.
“And…?” Chris huffed, hoping for some type of response. They were just standing there looking at him.
“Okay. I’ve got some poster board and markers in the other room. Be right back.” Stephanie left the room and quickly returned with the supplies. “What do we want it to say?”
“Got a plan. Hold tight,” Steve said, eyeing Chris for approval.
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