First Zombie

by Fisher, Sean Thomas

  Chad and Carmen

  The interstate seemed about right for a Friday night. A fair number of vehicles were out and about and Finn wondered if the occupants inside even knew what was happening. Walmart semitrucks – packed with patio furniture, flat screens, and diapers – rolled down the roadway as if nothing had happened. Finn got into the gas and the Bronco II responded, passing a spattering of minivans, CUVs, and motorcycles in no particular hurry to get where they were going. He turned on the radio and Mötley Crüe came blasting out the speakers. Hitting the seek button, he watched the blue digits climb. It was business as usual up and down the FM dial as well. No urgent bulletins warning people to stay inside and lock their doors. No breaking news reports covering a string of random murders around town. Just the same tired music and loud commercials. Turning the radio down, he looked over at Miranda who had the same glazed over look in her eyes he did. “Are you okay?”

  “Do you think we’ll ever go back home again?” she asked, staring vacantly out the front windshield. “I just loved that little house.”

  Finn took her hand and smiled. “Of course, we’ll go home again. The police probably already have it under control. Not to mention, the National Guard is here at Camp Dodge. Together, they will stop it from spreading. Trust me, we will go home again.”

  His phone rang in the cup holder, vibrating against the plastic with an alert from his Ring app. Picking it up, he studied the screen, heart dropping like a rock into the pit of his stomach. “Oh, holy shit.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s someone at our door.”

  “Who?”

  He turned the phone to face her, his bloodstream pumping.

  Gasping, her eyes got huge with shock. “Tom!”

  Keeping an eye on the road, Finn turned the screen so they could both watch Tom bump against the front door beneath the porch light. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered bleakly, the gashes in their neighbor’s face coming in crystal clear HD over the smartphone. “Did he ring the doorbell?”

  “He probably set off the motion sensor,” Miranda replied, watching Tom paw at the screen door.

  “Look! There’s Linda in the background.”

  Miranda’s jaw dropped. “What’s she doing?”

  He shook his head. “Just wandering around the front yard with her arms out,” he replied, glancing at the road.

  “It looks like she’s moaning.”

  Tom’s gruesome face suddenly blocked out the camera, bloodshot eyes looking into the lens like he could see them. He began licking the doorbell and Finn hung up. Dumping the phone back into the console, he focused on the interstate and forced his heart to slow.

  “So that’s it then.” Miranda’s voice was so soft, she barely broke through his spiraling thoughts. “We’re never going home again.”

  “We don’t know that.” Finn shifted in the seat. “We’re just lucky we didn’t go back home now because I half thought about it.”

  She took his hand, voice coming out in a chilled whisper. “Can you imagine if we did?”

  An ambulance raced past with its sirens flashing, taking the next exit where a multitude of emergency vehicles painted the landscape in blood red and bruise blue. Outside of town, traffic dwindled to the occasional taillights running off in the distance. No more sirens. No cars wrecked in the ditch. Nada.

  “It’s like nothing happened.”

  Stirring in the passenger seat, Miranda pulled a cellphone from a black purse and frantically tapped at the screen.

  “Who’re you calling?”

  “Carmen,” she answered, ringing her up on FaceTime. “She’s called me a few times earlier.”

  A heavy silence fell over them like a wet sheet blown free of its line and by the fifth ring, Finn knew Carmen and Chad were already dead. Probably attacked right on the patio of their favorite Mexican restaurant, mid tamale.

  “Hello?” Chad’s sleepy face appeared on the screen, the living room lights turned down low around him.

  Miranda screwed her face up. “Chad?”

  “Oh, hey,” he yawned, sitting up on the couch and running a hand through his messy blond hair. “Where’ve you guys been?”

  “Why are you answering Carmen’s phone?” Miranda blurted, staring intently at the screen.

  “She went to bed.” He glanced over a shoulder into the hallway running behind him. “You’re never going to believe this, but some crazy old lady bit her on the arm tonight.”

  “Carmen?” Finn gasped, looking back to the roadway. “Where? At the restaurant?”

  “Yeah, out in the parking lot when we were leaving.” Chad shook his head and picked up a half empty bottle of Heineken from the coffee table. “Some wacked out meth head or something,” he said, taking a swig. “Luckily, it’s just a scratch.”

  Finn looked over at Miranda and let a silent understanding pass between them. “El Rodeo isn’t far from Rest Haven Cemetery,” he whispered.

  “I was just thinking that,” she whispered back, eyes returning to the phone. “Chad, can I talk to her?”

  “She wasn’t feeling well, so she went to bed.”

  “Chad,” Finn said in a louder voice, steering down the interstate. “You need to get out of the house and I mean right now.”

  Confusion gripped his sleepy eyes. “What’re you talking about?”

  “Listen to me, something happened tonight.” Finn’s attention bounced between the road and the screen, foot pressing harder on the gas pedal. “I killed a man tonight!”

  “Except he wasn’t a man,” Miranda added, holding the phone out. “He was a zombie!”

  Chad stared blankly back at them, beer bottle hanging in his hand. “Wow, you guys are really wasted.” His brow crumpled. “Are you driving? Jesus, Finn!” The phone buffered, spinning a circle over his twisted face.

  Miranda bent closer to the phone. “Chad?”

  “Can you hear us?” Finn stared at the frozen close-up of Chad’s face. “Hello?”

  The image jerked to Chad smoothing his hair onscreen. “Why’d you ditch out on us anyway? Where’d you go?”

  “To jail!”

  Running a hand down his face, he pulled a yawn from his lips. “Okay, I’m going back to bed. You guys should pull over and get an Uber. You can pick your car up in the morning.” He bent closer to the screen, face shrouded in consternation. “Are you driving a Ford Bronco II?”

  Glancing over his shoulder, Finn grunted. “The cops gave it to us.”

  Chad leaned back into the couch. “Of course, they did,” he said, yawning again. “Now, pull over and get an Uber before you kill someone, ya drunk.”

  Miranda inhaled sharply and slapped a hand over her chest, turning to stone in the dashboard lights. “Chad,” she gasped, pointing a shaky finger at the screen. “There’s somebody standing behind you.”

  Finn’s bruised and battered heart took off running, stamping hoofprints into his breastplate. The silhouette stood at an awkward angle down the dimly lit hallway behind Chad. Gasping for air, a deep seeded chill ran through Finn, chilling him to the bone when the shadow started limping closer, raising its arms and reaching for Chad.

  Eyebrows drawing together, Chad frowned at them before slowly turning around. The phone buffered again, freezing him in place. A circle spun over the screen and Finn jerked the wheel to the left, narrowly avoiding going off the road.

  “Jesus Christ,” he panted, letting off the accelerator and straightening the truck out. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know.” Miranda stared at Chad on the screen, the reaching shadow locked in place behind him. “I think we lost him.”

  “The phones must’ve gone down!” Wiping his brow, Finn got back into the gas. “The power will be next. When we run out of gas, we’re screwed!”

  Miranda shook the iPhone in her hands. “Chad! Can you hear me?”

  “…must be feeling better, baby,” Chad said, the screen jumping to a live shot of him twisting around on the couch. “Ba
by?”

  The silhouette limped closer and Miranda suddenly found her voice. “Get out of the house, Chad!”

  Finn’s eyelids peeled back in his head, foot uncontrollably pressing harder on the accelerator, sending them flying down the interstate. Hobbling closer, Carmen stepped into the light. Matted blond hair hanged in her sunken eyes, insipid skin stretching across her face. She reached for her husband, hands curling into claws and desperate moans slithering from her purple lips.

  Face falling, Chad scooted backwards on the cushions. “Oh my God,” he shouted as Carmen fell over the back of the couch and latched onto his t-shirt. They rolled onto the floor and the sound of breaking glass rang out just before the picture went dark. But Miranda and Finn could still hear him scream.

  The phone buffered, going silent and planting a spinning circle in the middle of the darkened screen.

  “Chad,” Miranda yelled, cupping the phone in her hands. “Chad!”

  Sighing, Finn looked over at her, a pang of guilt stabbing through him. “Hang up.”

  She blinked a teardrop out and shook her head, lower lip quivering like his heart. “Why is this happening?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Swiping at her glistening cheeks, her chest hitched beneath the seatbelt. “They’re dead, aren’t they?”

  Finn watched the road unfold before them and refused to dignify her with an answer. The circle on the screen vanished and Chad started screaming again. Carmen groaned and grunted in the background, and the phone began to move, showing the living room through a jerky lens. Chad’s terrified face suddenly appeared, a chunk of flesh missing from his right cheek. His fingers left bloody smear marks across the screen as he weakly pawed at the cellphone. “Help me!” he cried from his stomach with Carmen riding his back like a cowboy. Snarling, she sank her teeth deep into his neck. “Please!”

  “Hang it up,” Finn whispered, trying to focus on the roadway.

  “Oh, shit no,” Chad cried out as his wife tore a veiny piece of skin from his neck and began to chew. Blood sprayed the screen, turning everything to red.

  Miranda sat and cried in the passenger seat, unable to tear her eyes from the phone while Finn rejected the urge to look at his best friend, knowing it would scar him for life – however short that may now be. Chad’s screams began to weaken and Finn raised his voice. “Hang it up!”

  Jumping, Miranda disconnected the call and dropped the smartphone into a cupholder like it might bite her next. Staring glumly out the window, she watched the headlights track across the land, rubbing her arms to ward off a cold shiver. Finn turned down the air-conditioning and listened to the tires click against the cracks in the road, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

  “They’re both dead,” she faintly whispered, shaking her head in shock.

  An illuminated rest stop appeared on the right and Finn got off the interstate. Stopping in front of the restrooms, he shifted into park and turned the key. The engine spun down to silence, and he could hear the swelling buzz of locusts from the trees. Releasing a pent-up breath, he scanned the lonely grounds through narrow eyes. Two semis sat parked behind them, both basking in the orange glow coming from the parking lot lights. Other than that, it was empty and quiet. They were alone and ahead of it – whatever it was – and that’s how it had to stay. If not, maybe his wife would kill him next, or possibly the other way around. Miranda’s soft sobbing broke through his train of thought barreling off the tracks.

  He took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “Is it?” She yanked her hand back. “Because my best friend just killed your best friend right in front of our eyes!”

  He twisted around in the seat to face her. “We have everything we need to stay ahead of this. We were lucky enough to get the jump on it and I know how to survive a situation like this, trust me.”

  “Finn, just because you have a shotgun and a camping stove doesn’t make you a survival expert.”

  Opening his mouth to bolster her spirits, he shut it instead and hung his head. The words he needed were too heavy to lift, lacking depth and truth. Adrenaline fading, exhaustion caught up to him, pulling him into the seat. The engine softly ticked beneath the hood, the smell of gas wafting from the red can in the back.

  “I’m sorry,” Miranda said in a small voice that melted his heart. “I’m just…”

  “It’s okay, I’m scared, too,” he told her, taking her hand again. “And for the record, I didn’t bring the camping stove.”

  Nearly smiling, she wiped at the mascara running down her face. “Well, at least now we know a single bite will turn you into one of those…things. It’s all true.”

  Finn slowly nodded his agreement, replaying the phone call in his mind. “Listen, I know that was painful to watch, but we have to stay sharp here.” His eyes gravitated to the restroom’s glass front doors. “We’re still alive and I have to pee.”

  Following his gaze, she shook her head. “I’m not getting out of the car.”

  “Remember what Mac said; we have to cover each other’s backs at all times, and I’m not leaving you out here alone.”

  “Just go outside the car.”

  His eyebrows went up. “You have to go too, don’t you?”

  “I can hold it.”

  Finn sighed and turned back to the brightly lit restrooms, seeing things that weren’t there. “Come on,” he said, opening his car door and cringing when the rusty hinges pierced the quiet night. Reluctantly, his wife swallowed her apprehension and followed him inside, guns drawn.

  The men’s room was empty and smelled like shit. Rushing across the room, Finn leaned the shotgun against the sink and nearly didn’t make it to the urinal. He’d been drinking coffee all night at the police station and relief washed over him when he let go. His stream gained strength, spraying hard off the blue chip inside. Glancing over a shoulder, he checked the bathroom door. It was still closed but, unfortunately, the lock required a key and it seemed like his pee would last forever.

  “That is so nasty!” Miranda said, hastily exiting a stall and trying one three doors down. “What kind of sick asshole does that without flushing?”

  The hint of a grin brushed Finn’s lips. If an unflushed turd was their biggest problem, that was fine with him. A moth bumped against the fluorescent light above the sink as he washed his hands. He looked like he’d lost weight and, rather than using the loud hand dryer to draw every stiff around for miles, he dried his hands on his pants. “How’s it going in there?” he asked, grabbing the shotgun.

  “Disgusting. I can’t even sit down all the way.”

  “Next time, we’ll find a nice hotel.”

  “Seriously?”

  “No.”

  “Finn!” The toilet flushed and Miranda clicked her high heels out of the stall, her natural beauty contrasting sharply with the dingy restroom. Glaring at him as she passed by, she washed her face and hands before drying them on his shirt. “I’m so scared.”

  He pulled her against him, flushing his body with heat. “I am too but look at the big break we’ve already had. That cop gave us everything we need, including somewhere to go. We’ll be there soon, okay?”

  “Why are we even going there?” she asked, resting her head against his chest. “We don’t know these people.”

  He rubbed her back, pulling her sweet-smelling perfume into his lungs. “Where else can we go? Your parents are in Arizona and mine are in Wyoming. Chad and Carmen…”

  Pushing away, she dug her phone from her skintight jeans. “My parents!” she said, frantically swiping at the screen. “They’re probably freaking out right now.”

  Together, they listened to it ring, the moth delicately bumping against the lights.

  A curly gray-haired woman appeared onscreen, a warm smile shaping the pleasant surprise on her lips. “Well, there’s my pretty girl! How are you, sweetie-pie?”

  “Mom,” Miranda panted, holding the phone out so Finn coul
d see. “Is everything okay there?”

  “Oh, hello Finley,” she said, wiggling her fingers at him. “Congratulations on the big sale! You must be ecstatic.”

  He leaned in closer to the camera. “Are you guys okay?”

  The smile relaxed on her lips, brow knitting together. “Well, your father has come down with something terrible. I hope it’s not the flu, but…”

  The phone buffered, spinning a circle over her face.

  “Mom? Can you hear me?” Miranda shook the phone, like that might help knock it back on track. “Mom!”

  “Hello?” her mom replied, jerking to a live image. “Are you there?”

  “Mom, I want you to listen to me very carefully,” she said, pausing to catch her breath. “Get out of the house right now and drive to Nancy’s!”

  Her jaw came unhinged. “What in the world are you talking about, Miranda?”

  “Something happened tonight and people are…getting sick. You need to get out of the house right now and…” The words crumbled on Miranda’s lips when her father hobbled through the kitchen in the background. Dressed in pajama bottoms and a wrinkled t-shirt, he crept closer, a shock of white hair sticking out in all directions, glasses askew on his face.

  “Well, are you going to tell me what happened or do I have to guess?” Balanced on the edge of a leather recliner, her mom leaned in closer to the screen. “Hello? Earth to Miranda!”

  “Mom,” Miranda said in a pathetic whimper.

  “Oh, before I forget,” she interrupted, sticking a bony finger into the air. “Let me tell you about the monstrosity your father purchased this week. It’s called a Winnebago but I call it a Winne-no-go.” She shook her head, pressing her thin lips tightly together. “It takes up the entire driveway!”

  Finn watched Miranda’s dad shuffle closer in the background, stomach tightening into knots. Mouth agape, the old man held his pale arms out, glassy eyes locked in on his wife sitting in the recliner. “Jesse get out of the house!”