Dead Meat (Book 4): Dead Meat [Day 4]

by Clausen, Nick

  “Or the worst,” Mille adds, without really thinking. Her eyes involuntarily go to the dagger in the woman’s belt, and when she meets the woman’s eyes again, she knows she noticed.

  “It’s a balance,” the woman says in a low voice. “You have to help others, but you also have to survive yourself.”

  “I guess.”

  The woman sips her water, then asks: “And your family? Where are they?”

  Suddenly, this feels to Mille like an interview more than a conversation. Like the woman is trying to get something out of her. She decides to not give her anymore private information.

  “I couldn’t tell you.”

  The woman tilts her head slightly. “You don’t know?”

  “No.”

  Ironically, it’s the truth. Yet the woman seems to sense that Mille doesn’t want to play along in the fake conversation anymore, and she stops asking. Instead, there’s a long moment of silence passing through the living room. The woman holds Mille’s gaze, and Mille doesn’t look away. The space between them suddenly seems charged, like sparks could begin flying any moment. Mille can sense the woman tries very hard to read her thoughts.

  Then, Mille’s phone suddenly vibrates.

  “Sorry,” she says, pulling it out reflexively and breaking eye-contact. “That’s probably William or Dan. They must be …” She stops talking when she sees the name on the screen. A rush of cold runs down her back despite the warmth of the room. She declines the call, then puts away the phone again.

  When she looks up, she sees the woman still eyeing her, now smiling knowingly. She doesn’t say anything, though, doesn’t ask who called. She just sips her glass of water, then rests it in her lap.

  Dennis has picked up some electronic device and shows it to his mom. “Wow, Mom, look at all this cool stuff!”

  The woman doesn’t look at it; she’s still looking at Mille.

  Mille picks up her headset. “I’ll just … be in the next room if you need me.” She points to Holger’s bedroom.

  The woman nods once.

  Mille leaves the living room, closing the door behind her. She sits down on Holger’s bed, thankful that the room is only dimly lit due to the heavy curtains shutting out most of the sunlight. Also, there are no zombies outside this window.

  She puts on the headset and plugs it into her phone. The familiar feeling of creeping anxiety has formed in her chest after the phone rang. She finds a YouTube video with calming music and crosses her legs. Her thoughts are spinning, but she tries to ignore them, tries to not engage. It’s hard.

  What does she want? Why does she keep calling? Is she in danger? Or is she concerned about me?

  Mille closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, then breathes back out and visualizes the fear and tension flowing out of her.

  Just as the technique begins working, she hears a sound and opens her eyes.

  The door is open. The woman is standing there.

  “Sorry for intruding,” the woman says. “I just need to know where the bathroom is. Dennis has to pee.”

  Couldn’t you have asked Holger? Mille thinks, but she just says: “Sure. It’s out in the hall, then right.”

  “Thank you.” The woman is about to step back out, when something apparently occurs to her, and she asks: “Was that your mother calling just now?”

  Mille is dumbfounded for a couple of seconds. “That’s … that’s not really any of your business,” she says, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

  To her surprise, the woman smiles. “You’re right. Sorry for being curious.”

  She closes the door and leaves Mille in stunned silence. Her thoughts are racing even faster now, her heart pounding under her chin.

  How the hell did she know?

  Had she seen the display when the call came in? No, Mille was standing several feet away. Besides, the name on the phone wasn’t Mom, it was Helle.

  Suddenly, it’s not so much anxiety fluttering around her chest, but anger. She feels violated, like the woman had revealed one of Mille’s ugliest secrets. Like she did manage to read her thoughts after all. Who gave her the right to intrude like that? Wasn’t it enough they had forced their way into Holger’s house, all but threatening them to let them stay?

  Mille decides she’s not going to simply take it. Dagger or no dagger, the woman can’t just go around poking her nose in other people’s stuff and expect to get away with it.

  She leaves the headset and goes back into the living room.

  The woman is standing by the window, the glass of water in her hand. She has opened the curtain, and the late afternoon sunlight is streaming in, turning her red hair even more fiery.

  Two zombies are standing right outside, pushing and shoving for the spot closest to the woman, both groping the glass. Surprisingly, the woman doesn’t seem to care at all; she just stares out over their heads and into the distance.

  “Excuse me,” Mille says, stepping closer.

  The woman turns her head and looks at her. “Yes?”

  “I … I don’t think you … you can’t just …” The words stumble over each other, and suddenly, facing the woman, Mille doesn’t know how to express her anger.

  The woman looks at her, patiently, her expression serene.

  Oh, like you have no idea, Mille thinks, getting even angrier.

  She decides to stop pretending and flings out her arms. “How did you know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Who called me just now?”

  “Hm,” the woman says, smiling faintly. “Well, I just wondered why you wouldn’t answer a call if someone’s trying to reach you right now. And I noticed you became quite upset. I figured that could only mean the person on the other end hurt you badly.” She shrugs. “And who can hurt a young woman worse than her own mother?”

  Mille opens her mouth, then closes it again. The words have connected like punches to her gut. “You shouldn’t … you don’t have the right to …” Her voice is weak, her objections fall short; the woman doesn’t even seem to hear her.

  She simply looks out the window again, giving off an impression of a general overseeing a battlefield.

  “I understand your anger,” she says.

  “You have no idea,” Mille begins, her voice a little stronger now. “How dare you talk about—”

  “My own mother hurt me too, you know. In so many ways. The physical punishment was the least of it.”

  Mille stares at the woman, not knowing what to say. Her pulse is racing so fast, her vision is going a little dark, and for a moment, she feels like she’s going to faint again. She has never spoken a word to anybody about this, not even her closest friends. Not even Krista knew how abusive Mille’s mom had been. And now, this total stranger was acting like she knew all about it.

  Dennis enters the living room. “Mom, come look at this! Holger has this really cool—” The boy breaks off when he notices Mille.

  “Go help Holger with the vegetables, Dennis,” the woman says without turning away from the window. “The least we can do is be helpful while we’re here.”

  “Okay, Mom,” the boy says obediently, turning around and walking back out to the kitchen—after darting one last glance at Mille.

  “I never told my son about this,” the woman goes on. “I don’t want him to know. I don’t want anybody to know, really.” She takes a deep breath. “I ran away from home at the age of fourteen. One night, I just decided I’d had enough. I think that she had burnt me with cigarettes that day. That was one of her favorite ways of punishing me.” The woman finally seems to notice the zombies outside the window. There are four of them now. “These poor things were human beings just a few days ago—can you believe it?”

  Mille glances briefly at the undead, swallowing. “I can, actually,” she whispers. “I’ve seen several of them come back from the dead.”

  The woman nods. “I’m glad to hear you don’t believe the lies they’re telling on the news. This virus-thing … it’s just silly. I mea
n, just look at them. It should be obvious to anyone there’s nothing human left in them. The merciful thing would be simply putting them down.” The woman shakes her head. “But they’re not going to. Our society has become too humanitarian. They will keep on trying to help, instead of doing what’s necessary, and it’ll be our doom.”

  She sits down on the chair, looking at her glass for a moment, then drinking the last of the water, tasting it before swallowing.

  “It took me years to forgive my mother,” she says, not looking at Mille. “By the time I was finally able to return home, it was too late. My mother had died. Cancer. You know how many times I prayed for her to get cancer?”

  Mille doesn’t say anything; the woman doesn’t seem to expect an answer, either. She goes on.

  “Her death hit me like you wouldn’t believe. I fell to pieces. It showed me how much love there had been despite the abuse. I realized the hate was only a thin veil. And the funny thing was, that I had always known. I just … chose to overlook it. You know?”

  The woman finally looks at her, and Mille becomes aware her own mouth is open. She closes it, blinks and nods. “I guess … I guess I know what you mean.”

  “Sure you do. You’re a clever young woman. You’ve made tough choices, but they were necessary for you to survive at the time. Now … with all of this going on, the world falling apart …” The woman shrugs. “It may be time for every one of us to reconsider our choices. Especially the ones we’ve made regarding our families.”

  Mille shakes her head. “This doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change what she’s done to me.” She can’t believe the words left her mouth.

  “I know. Nothing can change that. But you can change. If you want to. You can forgive. You can return home.”

  Mille suddenly realizes—to her utter horror—that she’s on the verge of crying. The woman is talking in such a calming manner, it’s like listening to a lullaby slowly leading you to sleep.

  “I only have Dennis now,” the woman goes on, sending a warm look towards the kitchen. “He’s all I have, and I’ll do anything for him.” She looks back at Mille, and suddenly, there’s that fierceness in the blue eyes again. “Anything. I would even kill if I had to. He’s my blood, and he will be so forever. Even if he hates me. Even if he leaves me. That’s why your mother is calling you now.”

  Mille tries to shake her head, tries to say something, but she can’t. She can’t stop the tears from spilling over, either.

  The woman’s expression grows soft once more. “If this is the end of the world, wouldn’t you want to see your mother one last time? Wouldn’t you want her to know that you love her?”

  EIGHTEEN

  What the hell am I doing?

  The thought flies through William’s mind as he sees Dan walk towards the herd of zombies surrounding the car in the ditch.

  I can’t just sit here and let him kill himself.

  He unbuckles and opens the door. Ozzy whines impatiently from the backseat. “Not yet, buddy. You stay here.”

  William gets out, but leaves the engine running and the door open.

  Dan is still on the asphalt, but close enough now that the zombies should be reacting to him. But they all seem engrossed in the people inside the car.

  “Hey!” Dan says, stepping out onto the shoulder and waving his arms. “I’m right here! Come get me!”

  The closest of the undead—an old, skinny lady with a nasty crater in her sternum, revealing both a row of ribs and what looks like part of a collapsed lung—turns towards him.

  Dan turns and runs away as the zombie lady comes waddling up from the ditch. But as soon as he gets too far out of reach, the zombie stops, turns around and goes back to work on the car.

  “No, no!” Dan shouts, walking back. “Come to me! Come here! All of you!”

  He walks closer, trying to catch the attention of more of the zombies, and he manages to get a few of them to turn towards him. Two of them even give it a try, but as soon as Dan moves away, they lose interest and turn back to the easier meal in the car.

  “Fuck!” Dan shouts, running both hands through his hair. “It’s not working!”

  “I’ll help you,” William says, stepping closer.

  Dan looks over at him with surprise. “It’s no use! We’ll never get them all away at once.”

  “Maybe we don’t need to. Maybe if we just get the ones on this side to move, then your folks can climb out.”

  Dan looks at the car. “Did you hear that, Dad? We’ll try and get them to move away from the passenger door. So be ready to come out on this side, okay?”

  William sees the man in the front seat nod and send a thumbs-up.

  “Let me go first,” William says. “Wait until I have mine a little way down the road. They’re not moving very fast, so maybe I can run back and do another one after you.”

  Dan nods.

  William takes a few deep breaths. Then he walks towards the car, surprised at how unwilling his legs feel. It requires all of his will power to get them to move.

  How the fuck did Dan just do it? He’s a lot braver than he looks.

  Of course, Dan is motivated by the fact that the people in the car are his family; to William, they’re random strangers.

  I’m risking my life for someone I don’t know.

  The thought is followed by a shot of guilt, as he realizes how selfish it is. So, he shoves it aside and concentrates on the situation. As soon as he gets close enough, he bends down and picks up a small stone from the roadside, not taking his eyes off the nearest zombies.

  “Hey!” he shouts, throwing the stone and hitting one of them in the back of the head.

  The zombie—a fat, middle-aged guy with a torn-open throat and an unhinged jaw—turns and makes a move at William, who jumps backwards. He backs away but makes sure not to create too much distance between them, keeping it below ten feet, which seems like way too close. But it works; the fat guy keeps going, following William down the road away from the cars.

  “Now you!” he shouts, taking his eyes off the fat zombie just a split-second to look at Dan. “You lure away the old hag!”

  Dan is already moving towards the car again, and as William backs farther away, keeping an eye on both the fat guy and Dan, he suddenly catches a movement from a completely different direction. A tall, gangly guy wearing nothing but shorts comes staggering out from the opposite wheatfield and crosses the road, headed right for Dan, whose full attention is on the old lady zombie.

  “Dan!” William roars. “Look out!”

  Dan hears him, but he doesn’t get the message; he obviously thinks William is just warning him to be careful about the zombie lady, because he only looks in William’s direction briefly and nods once.

  “No, behind you!” William screams, and without thinking, he sprints back towards Dan, barely steering clear of the fat zombie, who tries to grab him but misses by an inch as William flies past him. “Behind you, Dan!”

  Dan looks back, sees the newcomer, lets out a scream and tries to spin around and run all at once, resulting in his shoe slipping on the hot asphalt, sending him down on one knee.

  William is still too far away.

  He can’t reach Dan in time.

  The zombies are too close, closing in from both sides.

  Oh, fuck! This is it …

  Ozzy barks from inside the car just as William passes it, and an idea flies through his head. Even before he can think, he shouts: “Ozzy, attack!”

  The dog needs no further invitation; it was already perched on the front seat, just waiting to be tapped in. Now it bolts out of the car and closes the distance to Dan in no time. The German shepherd gives off one angry bark before it lurches full speed at the male zombie, tackling him like an American footballer.

  “Holy shit,” William exclaims, stopping in surprise and forgetting about Dan completely for a moment, as he stares at Ozzy tearing at the zombie’s shoulder. The dead guy doesn’t seem to pay any heed to the dog, he tr
ies instead to get up and get back at Dan. But Ozzy thrashes hard enough to throw the zombie onto its back, then he drags it away.

  Dan has already seen the opportunity and scrambled away from the lady zombie, now getting to his feet and running towards William.

  “Holy shit,” William says again, reaching out and grabbing Dan by the arm. “You okay, man? That was a fucking close call!”

  “I … I think I’m fine,” Dan mutters, looking like someone who just stared death in the face. “I just hurt my hand a little when I fell down.”

  They move away farther, as the zombie lady makes a halfhearted attempt to follow them, before she changes her mind and heads back for the car in the ditch.

  Ozzy is still working the other zombie, having torn open his shoulder and dragged him several yards down the road.

  “Ozzy!” William shouts. “Release! Heel!”

  Ozzy lets go of the zombie—not completely voluntarily, but still he obeys and returns to William. He’s panting, looking proud and his mouth is full of blood.

  “Good boy,” William says, not touching Ozzy, as he suspects the zombie blood will be contagious if he comes into contact with it. Being a dog, Ozzy will most likely be fine—after all, he already bit one zombie yesterday and probably swallowed at least a few drops.

  “This isn’t working,” Dan says, looking over at the zombie who was just mangled by Ozzy. The guy gets to his feet and simply waddles over to the car in the ditch like nothing happened, joining the rest of the gang.

  “You’re right,” William says, wiping sweat from his chin. He’s completely soaked from running around out here under the baking afternoon sun, and he could really use a Coke right now. Or, better yet, an ice-cold Carlsberg. “We need help.”

  As though his words made it happen, there’s a honking of a car horn, and William turns to see a red SUV approaching. There’s a heavyset guy behind the wheel and a frail-looking woman next him. The driver is gesturing for them to move out of the way.

  “Hey, we need some help!” William shouts and waves his arms.

  The SUV lunges forward, and William and Dan jump to the side.

  “Wow, asshole!” William cries out, flipping the finger to the guy behind the wheel as he speeds past them. “Thank you for not being a selfish dick!”