by Josh Vasquez
***
I looked at the clock on the kitchen wall.
We’d be at church right now.
But today, we would not be. The past few days slid by without much talking. I wouldn’t be surprised if the adults were completely unaware of what day it was. They all walked around like, well, like zombies.
At least there haven’t been any out here.
The last time I saw one was at our house. I tried not to think about the dead too much, to try my best to pretend things were normal, but I knew that wasn’t safe and that I should always be on my guard. Someone had to be.
I passed some of the time by cleaning the guns, which I’m glad Dad finally got around to teaching me how to do. There really wasn’t too much to it, just make sure you put everything back the way you found it. The rifles and shotgun were not too hard to clean. Dad’s pistol on the other hand…
Well, let’s just say it took a little elbow-grease to get the hardened brain matter crust out of the crevices.
But now, I was all out of guns to clean and it was still quiet. The old farmhouse that we called “the cabin” was roomy and the silence seemed to echo. It was here when G-Dad inherited the property and it took several summers of hard work to get it up and going. Some of the most fun days of my childhood were when the four of us men came up here to work on the old house. There was no air-conditioning, electricity or beds for that matter. We camped out in the living room in sleeping bags and ate off of Dad’s little gas-powered grill.
I have to get out of here.
“I’m going to go outside for a bit,” I announced, not sure if anybody was listening.
I grabbed G-Dad’s .270 rifle from the gun rack near the door and made my way outside.
It was sunny and pleasant. I noticed that the air had cooled down drastically from the hot temperatures of last week.
I guess we will get Fall after all.
I walked in the direction of my tree stand, the leaves and pine straw crunching underneath my feet. I didn’t really have intentions of hunting; I just needed to get out of the house. I figured being fifteen feet off the ground should be a safe place to hide for awhile. It wasn’t too far from the cabin, so I should be able to hear if anything goes down there. Or maybe I’ll hear Uncle Josh pull up.
I was actually surprised he hadn’t already shown up yet. I still won’t give up on him yet. I knew that Aunt Laura still believed he was going to make it, despite the doubts that G-Mom had about his survival.
“I’m just trying to be a realist,” she had said, in one of the few times there was speaking.
“Well, don’t. I don’t need to hear that, so keep that crap to yourself,” Aunt Laura had responded, returning the room to its former silence.
I think Aunt Laura’s hanging on to the possibility of her husband returning was what was keeping her going.
He’ll be here, I told myself. He probably just got hung up somewhere. And he probably went home first and then he’ll see the note that we’re out here and he’ll come. I know he will.
When I reached the stand, I climbed the cold steel ladder up to my seat. The seat was also cold; I gritted my teeth as I sat down. Looking out over the plot of land situated in front of me, I took in the smell of the woods and the sight of Georgia pines and oaks. In the small field, wild flowers grew. A feeder sat in the middle, waiting to be filled with corn.
As I settled into my spot, my mind began to wander and I thought about the property we sat on. Its defenses would have to be beefed up some, in order to protect us from the dead if they do come out here. Which I’m sure they will, in time.
There is a perimeter fence, but it’s only made out of wooden posts and a few boards. We’d have to make it stronger, maybe taller too. There are plenty of trees around, so gathering wood wouldn’t be a problem, but I don’t know if we have the tools for it. We usually brought them out with us when we came to do work.
Only one road led into the property too. There was a metal swing gate with a chain and combination lock, but if you really wanted to, you could get around it on foot. Since zombies don’t drive cars, we’ll have to look into that as well.
I heard a noise to my right. It sounded like twigs breaking. I readied the rifle and pushed the safety into the off position.
After a few Moments, I relaxed and sat back in my seat.
Must of have been the wind or something. There’s nothing there.
And that was when I heard the grunting.
It was the familiar sound of a feral hog. I steadied the rifle again and squinted into the woods, trying to find its dark shape. The sound came from my right, but from where I was sitting, my vision was blocked by the trees and the brush.
I decided to climb down and go check it out. The thought of having wild hog for dinner suddenly made me feel alive and excited for the first time in days.
Bacon. Yes, there will be bacon.
But when my feet hit the ground, the noises turned from grunting to squealing. And then from squealing to a high-pitched shrieking. I ran into the woods in the direction of the pig’s screaming. When I finally reached it, I saw why the pig was crying out.
It was being attacked by the living dead.
Three zombies had the hog surrounded; one of them was on top of its flailing body. Its short, stubby legs tried to frantically get away, but it was unable to move under the zombie’s dead weight. I watched as it sunk its decayed, yellowing teeth into the sow’s flesh. The zombie didn’t seem bothered by the coarse, black hair; it just continued to bite down, over and over again.
The pig went berserk. It began to unsuccessfully try and ram the zombie off of its back. The other two took advantage and piled onto it. I watched as the pig screamed in agony as the dead devoured it.
I’m not sure why, but I began to grow very angry. I don’t know if was the way they ganged up and attacked the hog, or maybe it was just the fact that I got myself so psyched up for bacon. But whatever the reason, I felt the anger begin to rise; my skin grew warm and my muscles tightened. It was unsettling. It was a feeling of anger that I had never experienced before. The scariest part of it all was I think I liked it.
Maybe it was the events of the past few days. With the loss of my sister and my home. The way my family has seemed to have fallen apart. With these dead freaks. I was furious.
The three, feasting zombies were completely unaware of my standing there, something I planned to use to my advantage. I lifted the rifle and placed the sights on the back of the head of the nearest zombie. I had my target within milliseconds, faster than I’ve ever taken aim before. I pulled the trigger and watched as the bullet erupted from the barrel on a colliding course with zombie #1’s skull.
The impact was different than my .22 rifle. The back of the skull caved in and brain tissue exited through the zombie’s face. The other two took notice of this.
Before they could register what just happened to their dead buddy, I already loaded another round into the bolt action rifle and took aim on zombie #2. He quickly joined his faceless friend on the ground.
The last zombie looked down at his fallen friends and then back at me, but by that time I had the next round in the chamber, ready to fire. I couldn’t believe how fast I shot, something seemed to be fueling my accuracy and efficiency. Maybe it was the anger that I felt flooding through my veins. It was somehow controlling my actions, making me somehow a better fighter. A better warrior.
A small smile crept in around my lips as I pulled the trigger for a third time. The smile grew as the zombie’s head came to the same fate as the others. Once the three of them were dispatched, the smile faded. I looked at the sow in front of me as she struggled to breathe, her skin flayed and ripped open from the zombies’ attack. I walked up to her heaving body and looked down in pity. I felt the anger begin to flush out of my body.
I loaded the gun one final time and put her out of her misery.
Stupid zombies. Ruined a good meal.
I turned to walk back to the h
ouse, to let everyone know that some zombies had gotten on our property. We would need to work on our defenses quickly. I took a few steps and stopped. There was another noise off to my left.
More? I wondered.
I stood still and honed in my hearing, listening for any trace of sound. I heard rustling in the leaves and brush next to me, so I readied the rifle again. I had two shots left. If there were more than two zombies, I was going to be in trouble.
They came quick. Five small, dark shapes came charging at me full speed. It took a second for me to realize what was coming at me so aggressively.
It was five piglets.
The sow must have been their mother. She must have been protecting them from the zombies. They now seemed to be trying to avenge their mother by attacking the last shape on two feet. Their little grunts were filled with furry, but only came across as adorable.
Once they got closer to me, their attitudes changed. They took a couple of good sniffs of me, stopped, and turned tail back for the woods. Whatever they smelled must have scared them off. I wasn’t sure where they were going, but they most likely wouldn’t last long without their mother. They didn’t seem to be that old and were barely a foot long.
Right before they reached the brush line, I got an idea. I took a deep breath and made the best hog-sound I could. The piglets stopped and paused to look at me. They waited a second before running back in my direction.
Holy crap. It worked.
They rushed back towards me. I quickly set the rifle down on the ground and readied myself for what I planned on doing next.
Once they were within reach, I leapt through the air towards the nearest one and grabbed it.
It immediately began squirming and squealing, trying to kick itself free from my grip. The other four took off into the woods, leaving their brother in my arms. I fought its squirming for a few minutes, until it finally calmed down and relaxed.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” I told it.
It reluctantly looked up at me and snorted.
“I’ll take care of you. It’s not safe out there for you now.”
The piglet snorted again in reply. He seemed to be ok with me, for now. He wasn’t too heavy yet, and I was able to hold him with one arm. He no longer tried to free himself, but almost seemed to snuggle himself into my chest. I picked the rifle up of the ground and smiled.
Hailey would have loved you.
She loved animals and wanted to be a veterinarian when she grew up. No doubt she would have been ecstatic to have a pig as a pet. I felt the sadness creep back into me, into where the anger had just consumed me.
I looked down at the pig and he back up at me. It could have been my imagination, but it seemed like he sympathized with me.
“It’s gonna be okay pig,” I said out loud. “We’re gonna make it through this.”
I began to walk back towards the house, stopping by the road that led into our property.
“Soon Uncle Josh is gonna be here, pig. And he’ll know what to do.”
The pig snorted in reply.
“What am I going to call you?”
He grunted and snorted again.
“How about Hank? Hank the Hog?”
It grunted, and I swear, swayed its head no.
“No? Well, how about Bacon? I’m promise we won’t eat you Bacon.”
It snuggled its little head into my chest, as if in agreement with my naming.
“Okay. Bacon it is then.”
We made our way back to the house, but I stopped to look at the dirt road one last time.
C’mon, Uncle Josh. You gotta get here.
I went inside and showed everyone our new pet.
END
Preview of A New Death
A New Death was written for mature audiences, so it may be more intense than the story you just read.
Reader discretion is advised.