“Hold on,” he told Phil through the back window. Connor drove the truck up on the sidewalk, since no one appeared to be using it, in the hope of bypassing the traffic. One of the streetwalkers saw the truck and rushed towards them. Connor took his foot off the gas when the man approached, startled by his appearance. The man’s skin was a deathly gray, his features gaunt and haunting. He had the virus, Connor could see it in his eyes. He could see it in the way the man’s veins were visible through the pallid skin of his face. Connor tried to speed up, but the man grabbed on to the side of the truck bed and was hanging on, feet dangling as they drove down the street. Connor could see him chomping his teeth, like he wanted to bite Phil. A chunk of flesh was missing from the man’s cheek. Had he been bitten?
Phil took his backpack and hit the man in the side of the head. The force caused him to lose his grip and tumble to the ground. In the rear view mirror, Connor saw the man stand up as they pulled away.
“What the hell was that?!” he screamed to Rich and Marie. “You saw that too, right?”
They both nodded. They were quietly holding hands the way only close siblings can, both their knuckles white.
Connor thought it was strange that his dad’s red pickup was parked in the driveway at home. He was normally out in the fields until almost sundown. Connor’s mother, Peggy, had a worried look on her face when they entered the house.
“What are you doing home so early? The school put out an announcement that it would be safer to stay there and that they would be taking everyone home in buses while the police get this all under control.”
“And you just went along with that?” asked Connor. His mother had never been one to blindly follow orders. “Where is Dad?”
“Your father is upstairs. He isn’t feeling well. I think he has a fever. I think he might—” She broke off into a sob. Connor and Phil rushed to her side. Their father had not been sick in years.
“I’m sure it’s just a cold,” said Phil, his arm nestled around his mother. The two boys dwarfed her as they helped guide her to the living room.
“Here, Mom, have a seat.” They gently let her down to the couch. “Sit here with Rich and Marie. Let me and Phil go check in on Dad.
“Oh no,” Peggy gasped. “Where is Allen?”
“We are going to talk to Dad, and then we will go find Allen. I’m sure he’s on the way.” Connor was certain that Allen was not on his way. If he was able, he would already be here. Allen was not in the best of health. He had some serious issues from his days in the military. If he saw the things we saw on our way home, I’m sure he is waiting for us to come get him.
They found their Dad lying in bed, covered in blankets. His face was white as snow, whiter than Connor had ever seen it, and sweat beads glistened on his forehead. He looked to be asleep, but stirred when they walked in the room.
“What are you boys up to?” he asked. His voice was hoarse and weak. “Can you pass me the water?”
Connor grabbed the water glass and carefully pressed it to his dad’s lips. He took in several huge gulps before sputtering the water and coughing.
“What happened, Dad?” asked Connor.
“I was out on the tractor, then all of a sudden, I didn’t feel very well.” He paused. “I could barely walk. I made it back here just before I passed out. Been in bed ever since.” Another pause, complemented by heavy breathing. “Quickest cold I ever caught. It packs a hell of a punch, too. Do you think you can put the tractor away for me?”
“I will. Get some rest,” answered Connor. Their father was asleep again by the time they left the room.
Connor pulled Phil into his bedroom and shut the door.
“Do you think he has it?” Connor asked.
“I don’t know.” Phil was shaken. “It seems like what they told us at school. Sickness coming out of nowhere, but he still seems normal. He hasn’t done anything crazy.”
“Dammit.” Connor paced the room, hands on his head. “You have to stay here, Phil. I’m going to get Uncle Allen, but I need you here. To keep an eye on Dad, and if something happens, if he starts acting weird, I need you to shut the door and not let anyone in there until I get back. Okay?”
Phil stood silently.
“Okay?” Connor asked again. “I need you, Phil.” If his father did have the virus, no one else had the strength to protect the others. Rich was a hundred pounds soaking wet.
Knowing his brother needed him seemed to be the deciding factor for Phil.
“Okay, I can do it.”
Peggy had tried to call Allen on the phone, but the lines were still busy. Apparently, the news had spread across town. Rich and Marie sat in the living room, eyes on the TV as the local news showed footage of downtown, where people were running through the streets and cars were piled up. It looked like total chaos.
Marie grabbed Connor on the arm as he was leaving. “Please find him,” she pleaded. Connor nodded and left.
He raced down the back roads towards town. His thoughts flitted between the people he had seen with the virus and his father. The goal is to get Uncle Allen as quick as possible and then get back to the house. God, I hope Dad is okay.
The streets were a mess when Connor arrived at Allen’s apartment complex. A car had run into the gatepost, blocking the entrance. People roamed the streets, attacking or chasing anyone who happened to step out of their vehicle. Lucky for Connor, Allen’s apartment wasn’t in the center of the city. Connor might not have been able to drive into the apartment complex, but he could slip past the fence without being noticed if he was careful. He parked several hundred yards away, where there were no other cars. Screams cut through the air from farther away, putting his hair on end. Be quick about this.
Connor stayed close to the brush and out of view from the mob gathering down the street. We are just as screwed as the rest of the country now, thought Connor. Somehow, there had been hope that the virus wouldn’t find their small town. They had all chosen to believe in it, instead of preparing for the worse. One person had spotted Connor and was moving in his direction. Connor ran. He hopped the fence and rushed to Uncle Allen’s apartment. The apartment was on the ground floor in the center building. Connor pounded the door of the apartment so hard his fist hurt. It took thirty agonizing seconds before the door opened. Connor pushed himself inside and slammed the door shut behind him.
Connor sat down against the door for a moment, catching his breath.
“Connor, what’s going on out there? Are Rich and Marie safe?” Allen gave Connor a moment to resolve himself and kept talking. “I was watching the news, they were filming the mess going on downtown and then one of them attacked the cameraman. I saw blood on the lens and they’ve been showing “Andy Griffith” reruns ever since.” Uncle Allen’s blue eyes were piercing into Connor when he looked up. Allen wasn’t much older than his mom, but he looked it. He had had all kinds of problems from his time in the war. He placed his bodyweight largely on the wooden cane he used for support.
“It’s chaos out there. The virus is here and it’s bad. I had to park a few blocks away because it’s all so crazy out there. Everyone is deranged. But yes, Rich and Marie are fine. They are at the farm with Mom and Phil. We left school early and were able to avoid most of this mess.”
“I suspected as much. You’re a smart boy. The phones were down when I tried to call your mother.”
“Are you ready to go?” Connor was not relishing the thought of guiding Uncle Allen through the madness that awaited.
“Just let me grab my medicine.”
When they rounded the corner of the apartment building, the mob seemed to have grown. People stumbled back and forth, lunging at anything that moved. A car had tried to drive off-road and flattened both front tires. It was now stopped on the curb. When the woman climbed out, the mob rushed her. Loud screams hung in the air as she disappeared into the horde. It looked to Connor like they were biting her.
“Let’s go, kid,” Allen said, nudging Connor in the b
ack.
A gunshot boomed through the air. Connor turned to look for the source and saw several bodies lying on the ground. A man holding a shotgun stood over them. He fired off several more rounds as people began to enclose around him. Why aren’t they running away? Connor asked himself. There were two more shots before the man was tackled to the ground.
Connor and Allen hurried to the fence.
“You know I can’t climb that,” said Allen.
“I know, I’m going to lift you over.” Connor gripped Allen around the waist and hoisted him off the ground. The man was heavier than he looked, but Connor was strong enough to put him on the other side. Uncle Allen almost lost his balance when his feet touched, but used the cane to stabilize.
A group of people walked down the street towards Connor and Allen. Connor knew Uncle Allen wouldn’t make it to the truck in time at his pace, so he lifted him over his shoulder, against Allen’s protests, and hurried to the truck. Connor had just gotten himself in the truck when a bloody hand beat down on the window next to him.
“What do you think is wrong with them?” he asked Allen.
“I don’t know, son. Look at their eyes. It’s not quite right, is it?” Allen stared at the people before him, a troubled look in his face. Their teeth clicked against each other as they looked in the truck, their eyes were open, but there was no recognition in them. “Do you think they want to eat us?”
The thought chilled Connor to the bone.
“Let’s not stick around to find out.” Connor put the truck in reverse and gassed the engine. The small group chased them until Connor could no longer see them in the mirror.
At home, Peggy was in hysterics when Connor walked in the house.
“What did you tell him to do?!” she screamed at Connor, beating on his chest with her open palms. “I can’t see my own husband when he’s sick? Who are you to tell me what to do?” Tears streamed down her puffy red face and she sobbed uncontrollably on Allen’s shoulder.
Phil took Connor aside and whispered in his ear. “It wasn’t long after you left. Dad quit breathing. All of a sudden, he was cold and I thought he was dead. But then he started moving again and when he opened his eyes, it was like he was looking but he couldn’t see anything. He grabbed me on the arm so hard I thought it might break.” Phil showed Connor his arm, it was already bruising. “And then he tried to bite me. I locked the door and we’ve heard him banging around up there ever since. I had to fight off Mom from going in there.” Phil had his hand on Connor’s shoulder and Connor could feel it shaking as he spoke. He put his arm around his brother.
“You did good. It’s a shit show out there. People are going crazy left and right. I saw people die.” He took a deep breath. “I think we might be in this for the long haul.”
Back in the kitchen, Rich and Marie were hugging their father. Marie was crying and Uncle Allen patted her on the back. Peggy was sitting in the living room, head buried in her hands.
“Mom…” Connor didn’t know how to tell her. His dad had always been the strong one, the one to tell them the news and fix things. With him in his current condition, it all seemed to be falling on Connor. I’m not sure I can handle it, he thought.
“What do you want?” There was a venom in her voice Connor had never heard before.
“I think Dad has the virus.”
“You think I don’t know that, Connor? You think I suppose people just come back to life everyday? Goddammit! I know he has it! I love that man and there is nothing I can do to help him. Do you know how that feels? Just leave me in peace for a minute.” Connor knew she was hurt and angry and scared, but it didn’t lessen the blow. His head hung a little lower when he left the room.
“Come here, son.” Uncle Allen embraced him in the hallway. “Just give her a bit of time. She doesn’t mean to be so hard.” He let Uncle Allen comfort him for a moment before Connor pulled free. I have to be stronger than this.
“What are we going to do about Dad?” he asked Allen.
“The news didn’t say much about how to deal with people once they turned. In the big cities, they sent in the national guard. We can’t just set him free, he could hurt someone else. And I don’t expect you to…you know.” That part was best left unsaid. “Let’s just think on it for a while. I’ll turn on the radio and see if we can get some news that way.”
Almost two weeks passed before Connor saw his father again. The phone lines went down and cell service had collapsed the first day. The TV lasted a few more days, but the news crews were not reporting and all that came on were old reruns. The radio was what saved them. The stations were still up and running, though most hosts stopped checking in after a couple of days, but there was one station that outlasted them all.
A man had found his way to the local news radio and managed to get himself inside. Over the next week, he gave out every bit of information he could find on what was happening. The town was overrun and he could see the ‘zombies,’ as he called them, walking through the street. They seemed to feed on human flesh and as far as he could tell, the only way to kill them was a blow to the brain. He detailed when he saw a group of men with machine guns blasting through a horde of zombies, but only the ones with head shots stayed down.
Based on this information, Connor knew what he had to do.
His father had demolished the room upstairs for the past week. He could be heard all hours of the night, thrashing and moaning and sending pictures crashing to the floor, but so far, no one had dared go inside. His mother cried a lot. Uncle Allen tried to keep things going as best he could. Phil had already started making plans to fence off the property and install solar panels for when the power failed. Because he assured them that it would. He knew a place that had solar panels, the only problem was getting there. Phil said they would need to be self-sufficient by winter, because there was no guarantee help would ever come. Everyone kept themselves busy.
Zombies had started randomly showing up in the yard. Connor took this as an opportunity to learn how to stop them. He used an old machete to chop the head. When a severed head still chomped in his direction, he learned decapitation did not stop the biting; only destroying the brain could truly end it.
Connor stared at the door handle to his father’s room. Phil waited in the hall behind Connor in case something went wrong. Connor wanted to do it himself. He didn’t want anyone else to have to deal with the nightmares he was certain would haunt him. The other side of the door was quiet. When he twisted the knob, he could hear shuffled movement on the other side.
Connor’s heart beat violently. The thought of what was to come nearly crippled him. For the first time in his life, Connor felt weak. His strength had left him as he tried to turn the door knob. Only the thoughts of his mom and Phil gave him the motivation to go on.
The door cracked open and a pungent smell nearly knocked Connor to the ground. Connor’s eyes watered at the foul smell, it was rotten and reeked of death. Connor slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. His father stood on the other side. He charged at Connor, arms flailing. The sight of his father would haunt Connor for the rest of his life. The once hardened and muscled man was now a lean mass of decaying flesh. The skin around his fingers was rubbed raw from his attempts to claw out of the room. His eyes were sunk deep into his skull and loose skin hung down from his cheeks, making him look twice his age.
When his father charged at him, Connor did what he had prepared to do. He swung the machete hard and fast, connecting with skull and brain. There was a soft thunk as the skull cracked beneath the force and his father fell to the floor, machete still lodged in place. The exchange was over in an instant. Connor had expected such a life-changing moment to last longer.
Connor felt the weight of the task lift off his shoulders, but it was immediately replaced by the guilt of knowing he had just killed his father. There was no other option, he tried to tell himself. He knew his father had died lying in that bed while he was rescuing Uncle Allen. The man that lay
before him now was as much his dad as the broken lamp by the bed. He stooped over the body and let the warm tears wash down his face. Once he left the room, he couldn’t let them see him cry. Connor sat down beside his father and held his hand.
He took a moment to gather himself, then pulled a sheet from the bed and wrapped his father’s remains inside. Connor refused to make eye contact with anyone as he carried his father down the stairs and out into the yard. The hole had been dug earlier, in preparation for what was to come. Connor laid his father inside and buried him six feet under. He refused to let anyone else help. He had taken the responsibility solely on himself. When he finished patting the last of the dirt on the grave, his family circled around his father’s final resting place. They wanted to put him to rest, but Connor couldn’t be there. He went to the house alone, not wanting to talk to anyone or listen to their last words.
The next few days moved in a blur for Connor. He felt like he was going through the motions as they tried to prepare for life in the apocalypse. He rarely talked to anyone, and spent what little free time he had staring off into space. He was sitting on the couch when Marie burst into the house screaming.
“There are people outside! I don’t think they are good guys.”
Connor ran to the window, alert for the first time in days. He saw a truck coming down the driveway, with men in the bed of the truck holding guns. They all had bandannas covering their faces. Fuck me, thought Connor.
“Is anyone still outside?” he asked.
“Phil is in the barn.”
“Dammit. Get everyone and go upstairs. Let me handle this.” Connor took the rifle that was propped in the corner and stepped out onto the porch. There were five men in the truck. Two in the cab and three in the bed. Marie was right, they did not look friendly.
“Can I help you?” Connor asked, pointing the gun in their direction.
Undead Love: Not Alone Page 8