"Is that him?" Dale whispered.
"Yeah," Sarah whispered back. Her eyes were wide and she was propped up on her elbows, her hands clutching the sides of the mattress in terror. With the door locked and barred, and Dale armed, they should have been safe from the killer outside, but she knew they weren't at all.
Dale sat down on the floor with his back against the wall and propped his elbow up on his knee, aiming the gun at the door. He glanced at the window periodically, ready to point and shoot in that direction if he needed to.
Then the doorknob stopped moving and there was silence.
The wind picked up again and made the cabin groan as the air whistled through the cracks. Dale winced at not being able to hear what the killer was doing outside, but then the wind finally died down and there was silence again. And then a bang on the door.
The front door rattled in its frame and scared the hell out of both of them. Another bang shook the door, like someone was slapping on it with the palm of their hand. The sounds continued, slow and lazy. But it didn't sound like someone who was actually trying to get inside with very much effort.
The fear swelling in their chests eased off as they became confused. Dale stood up and crept over to the door. The banging stopped and he pressed an ear to it.
He heard someone breathing on the other side, drawing raspy breath in and out.
Then the steps groaned under the person's weight as they turned and wandered away from the cabin. Footsteps shuffled through the leaves again, but this time Dale noticed the fine details of the sounds that he had been too excited before to catch. The footsteps were long and slow, almost like they were dragging along the ground.
He went to the window and pressed his face against the glass, trying to see around to the front were the person had gone.
"What do you see?" Sarah whispered. "Is it him?"
A dark shape came into view at the edge of the window. It was far away and hard to make out; just a dark blob in the night. But he could see its vague outline as it sank down onto its knees in front of a strange mass lying on the ground.
"Aw shit!" Dale cried.
"What is it?" Sarah asked, her terror returning.
"It's just a zombie," he said.
"Well what's wrong?"
"It's eating the deer that we bagged."
"Can't you go outside and kill it?" she asked.
Dale shook his head as he walked away from the window. "Nah, it's too late. The meat's spoiled now." He sat down on the chair next to the table and put his head in his hand. "What a waste," he muttered.
Sarah watched him with concern, wishing there was something she could do for him.
He kept his head nestled against his hand which was propped on the table, but he didn't move. He stayed like that for a long time until eventually his head suddenly slipped off his hand and he jerked upright in his seat. He was falling asleep, and no matter how much he tried to keep himself alert, his eyes kept drooping closed and his head kept slipping. Every time his head would fall and he would wake himself up, he would mutter under his breath about looking for Jimmy.
As Sarah watched him, she realized that she had been starting to fall sleep herself, as there were periods of blackness that suddenly fell over her vision. The pain in her ankle was still intense, but her sleepiness overpowered it.
Eventually Sarah's eyes closed permanently for the night, and all her fears and worries were cut off, paused until the next day.
If there was a next day.
Sarah's eyes shot open, her heart already hammering without knowing what had startled her awake. After the first brief moment that it took for all her senses to come back to her, she realized that someone was screaming.
Daylight came through the window and lit the cabin, and Sarah found that she was alone. The front door was open, and the tail end of the scream came from somewhere off in the woods.
She looked around frantically, a million thoughts racing through her head about who could be screaming and why. She remembered Dale said there were crutches in the bathroom and she lifted her bad leg and spun around on the mattress, carefully pushing herself up on her other leg and bracing her hands against the wall to hobble to the small room at the foot of the bed.
Her ankle felt much better than the night before, but she didn't dare to put any weight on it or move it around if she could help it.
The bathroom was dark, but she felt around and her hand landed on the crutches propped in the front corner next to the doorframe. She pulled them out and shoved them under her armpits, then she made her way to the front door as another scream erupted outside.
Sarah looked down at the floor in front of her, focusing all her attention to make sure she didn't trip on the stairs as she carefully hobbled down onto the leaf-strewn ground. As she made her way through the woods toward the source of the screams, she saw Dale kneeling down in front of something in the distance. At first she thought it was the deer, and she couldn't understand why he was so upset. But when she got closer, she understood.
Jimmy's corpse lay on the ground in front of Dale. Sarah could see his arms thrown limply over his head and the lifeless expression on his face as she came around Dale's side and saw the body in full view.
Dale sobbed and coughed between screams of anguish that now started to fade into painful wails.
Jimmy's entire neck had been eaten through, leaving nothing but his spine at the back to connect his head to his body. His coat and shirt had been undone, revealing his bare chest. Shallow cuts were made into his flesh, spelling a simple phrase:
THANKS FOR DINNER
9
The Best Laid Plans…
Dale took a long drag of his cigarette then pulled it out of his mouth and flicked the ash onto the ground. White smoke poured out through his pursed lips, floating and fading into the gray daylight.
Sarah sat on the ground with her back against a nearby tree, her crutches neatly tucked beside her. She watched the dismal scene with a glumness that she hadn't felt in quite a while. Guilt ate away at her, again reminding her that she was the sole cause of the misfortunes of everyone whose path she crossed. A part of her wanted to run away, but it would have been a sorry sight on just a pair of crutches. She wanted to apologize to Dale in so many ways, but the words escaped her. She knew he wasn't angry at her, but the whole thing stung all the same.
Dale took one last puff of cool smoke and tossed the cigarette away. He blew it out of his mouth as the wind took it up and twisted it away. He looked down at his nephew's body wrapped in the green tarp and said a final, silent goodbye. He hoisted one end of the body, dragged it over to the edge of the grave he dug, then he dropped Jimmy in feet-first, lowering the rest of him gently down. His body pressed into the soft dirt and settled into its final resting position.
Dale instinctively put his hand up to his face to take another drag, then he remembered that he had finished the cigarette. He pulled the pack out of his coat pocket and flipped the lid open.
One last solitary cigarette sat in it and Dale sighed. "Last one," he said. "Better save it." He talked aloud so that Sarah could hear him, but he was really only talking to himself.
The two of them remained isolated from each other as Dale grabbed a shovel and filled in the grave, and Sarah continued to sit against the tree feeling guilty and depressed.
When he was done, Dale helped her up without much more of a goodbye to his nephew, and he brought her back into the cabin. He sat her on a chair and told her to wait there for him to return. At first she thought he was going to leave her there, and she became anxious, but she heard him go to the shed behind the cabin and fiddle around with something before coming back holding a small armful of jerky and an empty plastic jug. He walked over to the bucket of water sitting between the mattresses and carefully poured it into the jug, filling it up to the top with only a little left over. He poured the remainder into two cups and handed one to Sarah, and they both drank it down without a word. Dale pulled the rifle of
f his shoulder and checked the ammo to make sure it was fully loaded, then he pulled a few clips out of his pocket to be sure he had enough. When he was through with this, he brought the jerky and the water to the door and put his rifle back over his shoulder.
"We're going to take a little bit of a hike," he told her.
"Where are we going?"
"There's a motel down the road a little ways. It's not too far, so you should be able to make it okay." Before she could ask why, he added, "I'm going to kill that son of a bitch, Sarah. He knows we can't stay here anyway, but when he follows us, he's going to walk right into a trap."
"What do you have in mind?" she asked.
"I'll tell you when we get there," he said. "We've got to get going, anyway."
Dale helped her get her coat on and walk down the steps outside. He kept a pace ahead of her as he walked through the woods, carrying the food and water with his rifle on his shoulder. Sarah followed behind, slowly getting used to her crutches.
The cold wind blew in their faces as they left the cabin behind, carving a path through the trees until they got to the highway. There was no sign of the killer anywhere that morning—no strange shadows or noises or anything to indicate that he was following them. But they knew he was; that was part of Dale's plan.
The walk took longer than Sarah thought it would, but she didn't complain. She still wasn't sure exactly what kind of mood Dale was in, and she didn't know how frosty he would be to her going forward. She counted any time at all where he didn't decide to ditch her on the side of the road and carry on his own way as a blessing.
But he was focused, his eyes intense and trained on the road ahead like a laser. He kept his ears open and would take a sly look around once in a while to make sure the odd noise of a creature scurrying through the woods next to them was nothing sinister.
Sunset came early, and shortly after that, the darkness took over. It was getting near the end of December, and it must have only been five-thirty. Storm clouds rolled overhead and looked down on them with nasty visages. Before long, a distant rumble of thunder echoed in the sky and icy cold rain fell down on them.
Sarah began to shiver and Dale gave her a sympathetic look. "Not much longer now," he said. "Maybe half a mile, is all."
They got lucky with the road, not running into any zombies or bandits. Dale had walked the path quite a few times to get some supplies from the edge of town, which was even farther than the motel, and he knew it was generally safe. But as they got close, the darkness cloaked the land and the splashing rain masked all kinds of small noises, and Dale started to be more and more on edge.
They cleared a bank of trees tilting over the edge of the road and then they saw the motel ahead. It was barely visible through the darkness, but they could both make it out. It looked like paradise to them as the rain soaked their clothing right down to their skin and caused an icy shiver to rattle through their bones. It got so bad that Sarah almost fell off her crutches from shivering so hard, and Dale would periodically pause to make sure she was okay. He took it a little better, shrugging off the discomfort and keeping his razor-sharp focus and unshakable will.
The two of them crossed an intersecting road and carried on into the parking lot of the motel. The building was only one story, completely deserted with no cars anywhere around and no sign of life. Ten rooms sat in a straight row, connecting to an office at the end. Everything was nearly as black as the night around it, and it almost seemed like if the killer were following them, he wouldn't possibly be able to even see them or where they were going unless he was stalking only a few feet behind them.
Dale looked over his shoulder. The pounding rain only hampered his visibility further, and he couldn't see anything at all. He leaned his head toward Sarah. "You hear that?" he asked.
She continued to move along, carefully placing the crutches on the wet ground as her tired leg swung through and planted itself again. She listened for a moment, but didn't hear what he was talking about. "Hear what?"
"Exactly. Don't you feel it?"
"You mean him?"
"Yeah."
She extended her arms forward and planted the crutches on the ground then swung her leg through again. "I do. He's here." She didn't know how, but she picked up on what he meant. It was almost like a sixth sense that she could feel—an intuition that told her the killer was prowling close by.
"That's what I thought," he said. "Just keep looking forward."
He led her over to a room near the middle of the motel and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked and the door swung open into the dry refuge. He helped her inside, then he took one last look at the area around them.
The rain came down even thicker than before and the pounding sound of it on the pavement drowned out everything else. But there was no visible movement and no sign of anything around. And somehow that was all the confirmation he needed that the killer was among them.
Dale took off his baseball cap and stepped through the doorway, closing the door behind him and locking it.
Sarah felt the edge of the bed, but she couldn't see it. She stood in the blackness and waited to see what Dale would do. There was a sound like he was shaking his hat back and forth and she felt droplets of rain splashing against her hand. She heard him rustling around in his coat, followed by the sound of a spark wheel being flicked, and suddenly a small flame pierced the darkness.
Dale lit a big three-wick candle that he had brought, and he placed it down on a nightstand sitting between two double beds. The glow was just bright enough to light up the whole motel room, though it was still hard to see some things in the dimness. He walked up to a window at the end of the room near the bathroom and looked at it. The glass was frosted and nothing could be seen outside, but he fiddled with it for a moment, making sure it was secure.
"Can you help me get this off?" Sarah asked, tugging at the zipper on her coat.
"Of course," he said, walking back and unzipping it for her, then pulling it off as she plunked down onto the end of one of the beds.
She shivered as soon as it was off and Dale went off into the bathroom and brought her a couple of stiff towels to dry off with. She wrapped one around her shoulders and hunched forward as the water from her hair rolled down her face. "So what's the plan?" she asked.
Dale walked to the window beside the door and closed the curtains, taking a peek through them as he did. He turned to her and grabbed one of the towels for himself, rubbing it over his balding head. "He's going to come for us. I don't know when, but sometime in the night he will."
"So what do we do?" Sarah asked.
"You're not going to like this next part, but I promise that you'll be safe."
Her stomach already started to turn. "What is it?"
"Once you get settled, I'm going to slip out the window in the back and go through the window into the room next door. I'll be right beside you the whole time, but he'll think we're both right here. All the windows lock, as does the door, so the only way he's going to get in is if he breaks through something. But I'll be watching and listening the whole time, so I'll know when he comes."
Sarah wasn't impressed. "So I'm bait..."
"I told you you weren't going to like it."
"What if you can't get to me in time?"
"Like I said, I'm going to be watching all night long. As soon as he tries to get to you, I'll be right behind him. I know I'm big, but I'm more nimble on my feet than you might think. He won't see me coming, and by the time he knows I'm there, it'll be too late. And just to be safe, if you're in any trouble at all, just bang on the wall like this."
Dale walked over to the wall between the beds and leaned over the nightstand. He raised a meaty fist and gave the wall three heavy thumps.
"Keep the candle going for a couple hours, then blow it out like you're going to sleep," Dale said. "You can stay up as much as you want, but you should probably get some sleep."
"What about you?" Sarah asked. "If you get too tired and fall asle
ep..."
"Don't worry, I won't. I want that bastard too much." The dim orange light from the candle flickered in his eyes, and she could see the malice in them. She knew he badly wanted revenge, and that put her at ease a little.
"And you're going to be right next door the whole time?" she asked.
"The whole time," he assured her. "I'll leave the food and water here for you; I'll have a little before I go, but then I'll be okay for the night."
Dale made sure Sarah was comfortable and had everything she needed. He went over the plan again, and she was good with it, starting to feel more and more confident that it would work. When he was ready, Dale opened the window at the back of the room.
It was much smaller and higher up than the window at the front by the door, and he had to give himself a little hop to get his arms through and pull himself up. It was a bit of a squeeze, but he got through without too much trouble or noise, and he didn't speak a single other word to Sarah as he disappeared. She wouldn't have heard anything at all if it weren't for the little bit of noise he made getting into the window next door, and when she was sure that he was safely in the room, she used the crutches to walk to the back and close the window, locking it.
She made her way back to the bed and sat down, watching the three flames flicker on the candle. She was still soaked head to toe and shivering. She waited for a moment to see if anything would happen or if there were any noises that could be heard from outside before she started taking off her wet clothes. She was nervous about doing it, thinking that as soon as she did the killer would try to break down the door and she would literally be caught with her pants down. But after a long moment of waiting and shivering, her discomfort got the best of her and she pulled off her blouse. It felt like saran wrap clinging to her, and the coldness kissed her bare skin, making her shiver even more. But she waited until she got her bra and pants off before she started to towel herself dry. She pulled her pants and underwear down only to her ankles, not wanting to risk further injuring her sprain by pulling them off. She took one of the towels and worked it all over her body, removing all the moisture from her skin. Though it was still close to freezing in the room, she immediately felt a lot better. She wrung her shirt and bra over the floor, squeezing out every drop of rain that she could, then she bent over on the bed and tried her best to wring out her pants and underwear sitting around her ankles. Then, as much as she didn't want to, she put her clothes back on, cringing at the feeling of the sticky material on her skin. When she was dressed again, she wrapped the towels around her for warmth and propped herself up at the head of the bed, slipping under the covers.
Zombie Apocalypse Series Books 1-3 (Zombie Apocalypse Series Box Set) Page 54