by TW Brown
“And if there is a dog, you know to leave it behind, right?”
“Of course,” Natasha said with a nod.
“But—” I started to protest.
“No buts, Evan,” Don interrupted. “We are doing well enough taking care of our own. A dog is a waste of resources.”
“Then I will take care of her. I will make sure that my dog has everything she needs, just…don’t leave her to die.”
“Is that the kind of monster you think me to be?” Don snorted. He even sounded offended. “We would not dream of leaving your dog to suffer. Natasha will shoot her right between the eyes.”
“Why?” It barely made it out of my throat as it seemed as if my ability to speak was suddenly a near impossibility considering how it felt as if it had constricted to a pinhole.
“Haven’t you been paying attention?” Don walked to the door, opening it for Natasha who ducked through without even casting a glance over her shoulder. “The old world is dead. I am the phoenix that is rising from its ashes to usher in a new world…a new era.”
“What does that have to do with my dog? Why kill her? She’s just a dog, and I’ll—”
“That’s the point, Evan. She is only a dog. If you are out making supply runs or tending to some stupid animal, then you won’t be doing your share for the greater good of the humans. Haven’t you been paying attention? Our society crippled itself with a bunch of frivolous crap and worrying about shit that didn’t matter instead of taking care of ourselves first and foremost.”
I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it. It wasn’t that I didn’t think he was crazy. I had no doubts that this guy was much worse than the walking dead and as mad as a hatter, but what if I did manage to buy Chewie a reprieve? How long could that last? Just like I knew my own fate the moment my eyes gave away my condition, I knew that she would be executed the instant that I was no longer able to care for her.
I’d failed.
Not just my dog, but I’d also just reduced Carl, Betty, and the others’ chances of survival. And on the off chance that Carl bought into this madness, I knew Betty would have no part in it. I have no idea why I was so certain in regards to her reaction to this, but I was.
“And the kids?” I finally managed. I braced myself for the response, not sure of how I would even feel when he declared their fates would be the same as my Chewie.
“Jesus, man!” Don snapped, spinning on me with a look of exasperation on his face that was echoed in his tone. “You really do think I am some sort of monster. Those children are our future. They will be taken into our care and molded into proper citizens.” He paused and arched an eyebrow. “They are white…right?”
“Yes,” I managed to say without being sick to my stomach as I considered the full measure of this walking pile of human excrement.
Okay, it wasn’t like I had lived my life with blinders on. Of course I was aware of things like racism, sexism, and all sorts of societal prejudices. Still, to witness this degree of extreme disdain for any sort of person, then just maybe this whole zombie apocalypse wasn’t such a bad thing. I realized it was the idea of “cutting off the nose to spite the face” sort of mentality, but I saw no world that could thrive or flourish with somebody like this allowed to walk free and unopposed in it.
I followed Don as he exited the room and headed down a long hallway. It only took me a moment to figure out just exactly where I was. We’d seen that stack of bodies across the road at the intersection where a big church sat. It had been on our left and was one of the larger churches that I think I’d ever seen.
Super, I thought.
Some of the most over-the-top lunatics in most zombie stories were either military or religious. I’d always been bothered by that. I had friends who were either in the military or had served. Also, while not much of a church-goer myself, I had friends who did. They were no better and no worse than any other friends or acquaintances that I’d made over the years. Every demographic has good and bad. Yet, here I was, walking behind one of the more common stereotypes.
We came to a stop at a door and Don turned to me. “Before we go meet some of my people, there is a little something I need you to take care of first. You see, you arrived here with some undesirable sorts. Now, I could’ve dispatched of them myself, but then what would I do for fun later?”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but as soon as he opened the door, the stench hit me like a wave. I couldn’t see past his enormous frame, but I didn’t need to in order to know what was inside this room. He stepped to the side and revealed a pair of zombies. One of them was staggering towards us. The second was trying to get to its feet, but one leg had been gnawed down to the bone at just above the right knee and he was having difficulty standing.
I guess somebody had come up from behind us at some point. I’d been so caught up in my head…or they’d just been that quiet. Whatever the case, this person (or maybe there was more than one, I had no idea) shoved me into the room and the door slammed behind me.
7
One of Us
“Franklin,” I gasped involuntarily as my eyes flicked from Joan to the man making his way to his feet, only to fall again when his injured leg buckled.
By now, Joan was only a few steps away. I reached out with both hands, checking her in the shoulders and sending her tottering backwards. She staggered twice, almost managed to correct and keep her feet, then she fell hard on her back. There was a vicious crack of bone slamming into and then bouncing off the checkerboard pattern-tiled floor.
The moment she hit, it was as if a switch was thrown in my head. This was not Franklin or Joan. These were zombies. The walking dead. Whatever had once been human in them, it was now long gone. I searched the room and my eyes paused on the chair behind what I figured had to have once been the teacher’s desk.
I darted across the room, hurdling the zombie version of Joan on my way. I reached the desk and slid across it like one of the Dukes of Hazzard boys. I turned and knocked the chair onto its side. I was still a bit surprised to discover such a relic. I didn’t know any teacher that still sat on a wooden chair. They all used the kind with back support, wheels, and that lever that let you raise and lower it with ease. Whoever had been the teacher in this room, he or she had been old school.
I stomped down on one of the legs and it made a loud, wooden crack, but didn’t break all the way. By now, Zombie-Joan had managed to regain her footing and was turning to face me. Zombie-Franklin was on his hands and knees and had made the unlikely leap that crawling after me would meet his needs much easier than continuing to try and stand up.
Another stomp and the leg gave with a nasty breaking sound. I grabbed the chair leg and brought the broken and jagged end around just as Zombie-Joan reached the desk. She swiped at me impotently, her mouth opening and an ugly moan escaping. It was made all that much worse by the hissing noise that came from the long slice across her throat.
These bastards had to know that slicing the throat would not be enough. They’d intentionally wanted her to become one of the walking dead. They’d probably already decided how they were going to kill Franklin.
I stared into the blackshot, filmed-over eyes of the thing that had once been Joan. I knew I had no choice, but that didn’t mean I would enjoy it. I would do what had to be done in order to survive.
“Rest in peace, Joan Kioki,” I mouthed, making it a point not to say it out loud just in case they were somehow listening in. I shoved the pointy end up and under her jaw. The wood pierced the flesh easily, but hung up as it broke through and ground against the roof of her mouth. A grunt of effort forced it up and through. She collapsed, and my arms jerked a bit despite how tiny she had been in life. I pulled the piece of wood free and winced when Joan’s body landed hard on the floor one final time.
That left Franklin. By now, he’d managed to haul himself to the desk. He was coming up the side closest to the wall. It would be impossible for him to turn around without a considerable amount
of effort, so I stepped around and came up behind him.
I raised the chair leg and drove it down and into the back of his head. The jagged bits splintered and broke off for the most part. The skull was simply too much for a wooden chair leg. I was left with no choice and changed my grip. It took five swings but eventually, the skull cracked open and my blows pulverized brain and bone into a dark slurry of gore.
Sure, I hadn’t known these two for more than a few minutes, but that didn’t ease my pain. These were two senseless deaths brought about by the worst sorts of people. Part of me wished that, if I was unable to secure my escape from these lunatics, I could turn in the middle of the night and rip into Don at the very least.
“I don’t know how…but I am going to end you, Don Evans,” I whispered to the empty room.
I felt my heart skip a beat when the door flew open. “That’s a pretty good start,” Don’s voice crooned. “Nice bit of creativity using that chair’s leg. Almost a shame that one there didn’t figure it out.”
I turned to see Don staring past me and down at Franklin’s inert corpse. I fought to wipe away any sort of emotion that might be lurking in my expression or leaking through my eyes. He gave his head a shake like he was honestly sad that these two people were now truly dead, then his eyes swept up to me and locked on mine again. I saw his expression change just a bit and felt my stomach drop. It had finally happened. I was certain that he was seeing the tracers in my eyes.
I wondered if he’d been the one to slit Joan’s throat, or if he’d had somebody else do it. I wondered, if it had been him, did he take joy in what he’d done even more knowing that she was pregnant?
“You have something on your cheek.” He pointed at me with a look of revulsion turning his lips down into an ugly frown.
I brought up a hand and wiped at my cheek. When I looked down, I saw a chunky bit of what I guessed to be brain now smeared across the palm of my hand. I was equally parts revolted and relieved. Of course, it took a few extra seconds for the actual relief to slip in and make itself known.
I brushed my hand on my pants, still struggling with all of the emotions swirling around in me. My eyes were drawn to the walls where a board was adorned with a collection of drawings done by children proclaiming, of all things, “He is Risen” in the newest touch of irony.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw three people, two men and one woman, walking a good distance behind, but obviously following. I wasn’t sure what they believed that I could do; even my chair leg zombie-killing weapon had been taken from my hands after I’d exited the classroom containing Joan and Franklin’s corpses. I had nothing but my bare hands.
“So,” I tried to sound casual as I began to try and wrap my head around my most recent predicament, “do we have regular services we are supposed to attend? What is the schedule?”
Don stopped and turned to face me. I was going to nickname this guy Billy Idol. He loved to flash that sneer of disdain. It seemed to be his go-to expression.
“What are you talking about?”
I gestured to the hallway we were in, then my eyes lit on the door ahead with the ornate cross hanging over it. “We are in a church. I assume there to be a reason…a significance that you have chosen this spot.”
“For now, it is in a spot that allows us close proximity to a few markets and neighborhoods that we are using for supplies. Also, we have found a few survivors that have joined our numbers. We have a team out right now that is scouting a new possible location for us to relocate within the next few weeks.” He cocked his head in a way that reminded me of the creepy zombie children and then a smile crept across his expression. “You thought we were some sort of religious group.” His laughter was loud and echoed off the walls of the long hallway. “That was just another societal opiate that numbed people to the ways our government was slowly destroying the nation. All this crap about being inclusive and opening our borders and communities to these people who swoop in and suck up all our welfare while good American families go without. The ones who take all the jobs while our nation wallows in unemployment?”
Once again I was hit by the astonishment that, despite the fact of seeing these sorts of claims being tossed around on tabloid television and some of the more sensationalist broadcasting trying to pass itself off as news, I could not come to grips with the fact that I was hearing a person spout this right in front of me with such a degree of conviction that it told me this guy had been living with just that kind of ideology for a long time.
I decided that I could not trust my voice or the tone that would seep through if I spoke, so I just continued to stare at the man. He waited for a moment. His smile actually grew broader as I maintained my silence.
“Yeah, if you were one of them church going types, I’m pretty sure you’ll get over it,” Don finally continued. “If not, just make sure that you keep it to yourself. Believe what you want when you are alone, but when you are around others, keep a lid on that crap.”
With that, the man turned and opened the door to what had once been a massive chapel or whatever they called the room in a church where all the people sat, stood, and kneeled while the priest or preacher or reverend stood at the podium and did his thing. The room was huge, and there were still several rows of pews, but they had an assortment of sleeping bags spread out either on them or on the floor in between.
As my eyes took everything in, I actually breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted a few children in the mix. Perhaps Carl and Betty and the others would stand a chance. That thought simply drove the idea in deeper that they planned on killing my dog…my Chewie.
“This is where we all stay.” Don held out an arm, ushering me inside. “If you continue to show that you are one of us, then you will be allowed to stay here as well.”
It took me a moment to actually process what he’d just said as well as hear the shift in his tone that had become almost outwardly threatening. I turned back to him as the trio that had been following us came up and took positions behind him, effectively blocking my way. I’d noticed another set of double doors across the room and opposite of the pulpit that sat at the bottom of the long, sloped rows that ran between the sections of pews. There’d been a flicker of light and shadow that hinted at outside. There were also armed guards at those doors as well as a barricade of long tables turned on their sides and stacked up against them.
“So, where exactly will I be staying?” I asked, trying not to sound nervous among other things.
“In the daycare wing.”
At first I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, so I just smiled and nodded. Don stepped back and the trio of escorts moved in close. I tensed, uncertain if they would simply escort me, or if there might be something more physical and violent in store for me.
In a moment of inspiration, I blurted, “What about my bag?”
“Anything of value was added to the stores. Your weapons were inventoried and marked down as well. You have no need for any of that right now.” Don gave my query a dismissive wave and started away.
“There was a picture.” I did not want to sound desperate and perhaps give these people even more leverage against me, but I was certain that my death was not only imminent, but very near. If I could have nothing else, I just wanted that picture of me and Stephanie. I would weep and mourn Chewie’s loss once I was alone, but I needed that picture now more than ever.
Don glanced at each of the people around me who all gave non-committal shrugs or shakes of their head. I felt my heart sink as my anger rose.
“Sorry, Evan,” Don said with a tone that did not come close to matching the words.
“But—” I started to protest, however, Don was already walking away.
“You should get some rest, you’ll be joining a team in a probationary role tonight. You don’t wanna head out there and not be well rested,” Don called over his shoulder.
“Let’s go,” one of the three guards said, giving me a shove.
“Maybe you should le
ad the way,” I managed with a wince as some of the aches and pains from my accident began to assert themselves.
“Just shut up and get walking,” another of the trio, the woman this time, said with a sardonic snort.
“And when exactly will I be heading out?” I asked as I started toward the wooden door that they herded me towards.
It wasn’t a real surprise when I didn’t receive any answer. The woman edged past me and opened the door, moving aside and ushering me in. We were in another hallway, this one much narrower than the one with the classrooms. It was also very dim. The only light came from the frosted skylights in the ceiling.
I was marched down to the second door on the left. Again, the woman was the one to step forward and open my door.
“Right inside there,” she snapped.
I did as I was told and saw that this was little more than a small office. There was barely room for the one desk and trio of metal filing cabinets. There were no windows or any source of light, but just before the door was shut behind me, I saw a figure sit up from where it had been curled up on the floor in the corner farthest from the door.
“Evan?” a familiar voice whimpered in the darkness.
“Ariel?” I said, moving forward in the absolute black with my hands out in front of me to hopefully keep from running into anything or stepping on the woman who sounded absolutely terrified.
“I didn’t think any of you survived the crash,” she hiccupped through her sobs.
“It seems just the two of us made it,” I said. There was no reason to drop the fates of Joan and Franklin in her lap.
“Are you certain?” she sniffed.
“Yes.” I let that word hang for just a moment before continuing with just a slight change in subject to get her mind moving in another direction. “So how long have you been in here?”
“I have no idea.” I heard her shift and move. A moment later, her hands found mine and gripped them tight. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s kinda dark in here.”