Wake the Dead

by Vanucci, Gary F.

  The wolf was certainly more submissive than Alex would have ever considered, despite his grander proportions, before actually having experienced it firsthand. He suspected that ever since the two of them were together, Shadow treated him as the alpha, but he wondered, what if Shadow ever challenged him for that role.

  Again, that was presuming a great deal, but it seemed to be a real concern. In addition, there were probably more wolves from the sanctuary running around in the area, too.

  What if they found Shadow? Would he go with them?

  Then again, if the wolf presumably spent its youth alone, it would never have had the chance to develop a pack mentality. On the other hand, maybe that was instinctual behavior. Who knew? He would need to find some books one of these days so that he could do some research, as he had no real idea as to what to expect.

  To the right, Alex could see nothing but cars lined up in neat rows, seeming to be the parking lot, or parking field in this case. Pockets of cars were missing and in the distance, there looked to be a tangled mess of twisted metal. Based on the direction and his familiarity with the area, it was the entrance to the turnpike.

  They were trying to get home, he knew, seeing the placement of the wreckage and the flow of it. Must have been a hell of an accident. He removed his binoculars and gazed out over the lot, seeing the occasional zombie wandering about lethargically. He also thought he saw something else in the distance, something moving in between the cars, but the sun was blinding in that direction.

  As he made his way closer to the tents he had seen when he was running from the zombies, from the bluff directly to the left of where he now stood, presumably south by his estimation he guessed, he speculated as to where he might run if he were chased this time. He also thought, oddly enough, that his tackle box and fishing pole might still be on that bridge to the southwest.

  Too far to go it on foot, he considered as he closed in on the grouping of tents. He held his bow up, ready to fire, and then patted reassuringly the grip of his Beretta. Shadow followed behind him trotting at a comfortable pace.

  He saw nothing but empty tents, in various states of disrepair and some that looked as though they were untouched from the outside. He came upon the first grouping and something nearby smelled unpleasant. He pulled his knife and peeked inside the closest one. It seemed to be an abandoned tent where food may have been sold at one point, but whatever was inside was offensive in ways Alex didn’t conceive possible only a moment ago. He replaced his knife and retrieved his bow and an arrow and readied them.

  There were patterns of similar tents along the way toward the entrance to the Renaissance Faire, but when he looked at it in the distance, he witnessed that the gates to get inside the fairgrounds were closed. Perhaps whoever was in there, realized that they needed to keep the gates shut and locked, he assumed.

  Shadow growled at something to his right and Alex nocked an arrow and shifted to face that direction. A man stood with a spear in his hands, dressed in ragged, but authentic medieval garb.

  “Hold,” Alex said firmly, along with an appropriate hand gesture. The man froze upon hearing the fierceness in his tone, possibly believing Alex to be directing it toward him. Shadow continued to growl savagely at the man, but made no move in his direction, heeding Alex’s command.

  “Who are you?!” asked the man anxiously, still holding his spear out before him. He looked quite pathetic to Alex, who lowered his bow.

  “My name is Alex. This here is Shadow. We came to see if the Ren Faire had anything of value,” Alex said. “I read that they were building a castle here and I wanted to see it for myself.”

  The man nodded and lowered his spear. “I’m Jerry. My wife, daughter and I have been here since the whole world went to hell in a hand basket,” the man said resignedly.

  “Any sightings of the living dead around here?” Alex asked.

  “You mean the zombie-things? Yeah, there’s been a lot of them coming through here. My family and I worked in these stands selling the turkey legs and ale to visitors.” He stared at Shadow for a minute and dropped to one knee, leaning on the staff. “Is that wolf dangerous? I don’t have much fight left, Alex. But, I won’t let it near my family unless it’s…safe. We already lost one….”

  “Him. It’s a him. And he won’t attack you,” Alex said boldly. “Or your family.” Alex lowered his hand and Shadow sat obediently. “How have you survived out here and why are you living near this revolting odor of what has to be decayed food?”

  “We realized early on, after the food rotted, that if we remained here, that the zombies don’t come around. I don’t know if it smells like the living dead to them or what, but it seems to make them look elsewhere for food. And that suits me just fine.” He paused, turned back to one of the tents and waved. A woman and a young girl, maybe mid-teens Alex believed, stepped out of the tent. The woman held a skewer, it was a two-pronged cooking utensil, her weapon of choice, it appeared. The girls were both dressed in Victorian style dresses that were in bad shape, soiled, dirty and ripped in many places.

  “This is Melissa, my wife, and Kate, my daughter,” Jerry said, getting to his feet once more as the females came to stand beside him.

  “Is that a dog?” the girl asked, her eyes wide with wonder.

  “It’s a wolf. His name is Shadow,” Alex answered.

  “Can I pet him?”

  “I wouldn’t,” Alex cautioned, just as Jerry shook his head in agreement with Alex.

  “So, how have you survived out here, Jerry?” Alex asked, sitting on the grass near Shadow, who began to sniff around the tents and the spoiled food.

  “We were holed up inside the gates when the attacks started. We gathered some supplies, food and the like, and spent a long time in that restroom area right there,” Jerry said, gesturing to a building outside the gates that appeared to be intact.

  “We grabbed all the jerky, nuts and other food we could carry, went in there, locked the doors and waited it out. I locked the door from the inside, dragged in a cement ashtray stall from outside, and shoved it in front of the door, too. We had running water in the sinks, plenty of food and a place to…you know.”

  “Shit, yeah,” Alex said bluntly. “Not a bad idea, Jerry.”

  “Yeah, and when it was quiet, I would go out scavenging and I would usually find food scraps and things lying around. The zombies stopped coming around after the food spoiled. I found this here spear not long after the start. Killed a few of ‘em with it, too. Gotta go straight through the brain.” Alex nodded his agreement on the matter and looked after Shadow, who had managed to find something on which to gnaw.

  “We lost our son,” the woman admitted as she let out a cry and hugged her daughter. Jerry nodded and hung his head in resignation.

  “We’ve all lost people we care for in this shitty, fucking world,” Alex said a little too sharply. Jerry looked at him with a troubled expression. Alex shook his head. “Sorry, Jerry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I just recently lost someone I cared about, too. And, I’m sorry for your loss, Leslie.” She nodded and took her daughter back inside the tent, continuing to search for things to salvage, Alex presumed.

  “We were just scrounging stuff up before we head back home—well, back there,” Jerry said, correcting himself. “I almost called that home!” he laughed a bit crazily at that. “You are welcome to whatever you find out here, Alex. But, I can’t let that wolf around my family. You understand, right?”

  “Of course, Jerry. I plan on getting inside there and seeing what I can scavenge myself. And I wanted to check on that castle I saw in the ad,” he said bending to one knee and squeezing his nose.

  “Ad?” Jerry asked skeptically. “From the TV?

  “Uh, no. Actually I found a newspaper that had an ad for the Faire.”

  “It’s real all right. But, it’s on the far end of the fairgrounds, backed up to the river. And, last I checked, the entire grounds was teeming with the zombie-things. The ‘undead’, like you said.
I guess that’s as good a description as any.”

  “I call them zombies, too. I got a lot of names for ‘em, Jerry,” Alex said with a smirk. “None of ‘em good.”

  Alex made it back to his feet and removed the bow from his back once more. He waved a hand in front of his face rapidly, still nauseous at the smell, trying to wave the rank odor away, but it was everywhere. He actually felt bile rising in his throat and stifled puke from coming up.

  “You actually get used to the smell. I barely register it anymore,” Jerry said with a chortle as he pointed toward something in the distance. “Anyways, the castle is there and from what I heard from some other survivors that passed through, there are groups of people inside. Some of them go out on runs to scavenge supplies and whatnot, and they asked us to come along a while back when they came across me and the family here, but I didn’t want to risk it. We’re doing fine right here for now.”

  “This river backs up to the castle?” Alex asked, gesturing to the river that snaked away from them.

  “It does,” Jerry agreed. “The castle was built right up against the river for sure. And let me tell ya’, that river has some good fishin’!” Alex nodded, saying nothing about his own fishing excursion that ended poorly, and trying to shake away memories of Olivia. “The construction crew was going to dig a moat around it for authenticity, but they never got to it. The drawbridge is there, though.”

  “Walls are up, too?” Alex asked, looking to Shadow as he made matters worse by marking his territory.

  “Yes sir. The walls were up, there were a few towers even inside the castle that were built, but the inside was not finished at all. It’s kind of just cobblestone floors and a few side rooms if I recall. I think they finished the framework for the inside, but I haven’t seen it in months.”

  “Thanks, Jerry,” Alex said with a polite nod.

  “They said it was based on the Hungerford castle somewhere in England if I recall.”

  “Thanks again,” Alex called after him as Jerry ran toward the restroom door. One of the undead suddenly emerged from around the corner of the structure, stumbling and rushing toward the man.

  “Jerry! Look out!” Alex pointed as he nocked an arrow. Jerry put his spear head right through the closest one’s eye and yanked it out again. He gestured the ‘okay’ sign, thumb and forefingers together, the rest of the fingers extended, and disappeared into his safe haven, the washroom.

  Two more zombies appeared from behind the corner of a tent and took notice of Alex and Shadow, and they came charging after them. But, this pair was not as fast as the first zombies that Alex had encountered a few months back. They did however, upon seeing him, race toward him with renewed vigor.

  They have not fed, he thought knowingly and thankfully, as he pulled back the bowstring and let fly. The arrow and its broad head tip found the mark, dropping the closest one to the blood-stained earth. I hope that that’s good news for what awaits us inside the fairgrounds.

  The second had closed the gap quicker than Alex expected, but Shadow was there, pouncing on the zombie and landing atop it. The thing snapped it jaws at Shadow, and the wolf snapped right back, grabbing and tearing flesh from the zombie’s neck. Alex let the wolf have its way with the emaciated and sluggish creature as it tried in vain to bite or claw the wolf. Shadow was too big and strong for the undead monstrosity, and after a few minutes of the wolf tearing at the flesh, Alex stood over it and put his knife through its skull.

  It stopped twitching entirely.

  Alex yanked both his blade and the arrow free from the zombie carcasses, and then made his way toward the barrier of the fairgrounds.

  Chapter 10

  Alex removed the knife from its sheath, stared at it for a long moment, and recalled how Jerry’s spear had allowed the man to take down that last zombie from a safe distance. He was suddenly all too cognizant of the fact that he had above-average weapons for dealing with the zombie threat from a long range. However, when it came to close combat, the knife was certainly not optimal when dealing with something like a crazed zombie, spitting blood, biting, and clawing at you up close. The single thing that motivated these zombies was hunger, pure and simple, and they had no fear of grievous bodily harm when achieving that goal.

  The undead had to get uncomfortably close in order for him to put them down with the knife. In their current state, it was not as dangerous, but if he came upon any of the ones who’d recently fed, that were both faster and stronger than he, it would not end well for him, he supposed. An attack by a single one of those zombies, even with a weapon, is a challenge. With that thought placing horrifying images in his mind, he had no intentions of finding out, either.

  He envisioned the spear and hoped that he would come across more of the medieval weapons inside the fair.

  Swords, shields, spears? Armor, even!? He thought.

  “How handy would a suit of linked chain be these days, eh, Shadow? Or a shield?”

  With that thought, he moved off with renewed vigor, pure optimism at finding such things inside the gates danced in his mind. He looked back and called for Shadow, and the wolf ran after him. He made his way along the outer rim of the fairgrounds, noted with delight that the fences were intact, and seemed to be backed up against shrubbery and trees for the most part. They also had a solid wooden backing affixed to chain link, so it was doubly reinforced. He hadn’t noticed very many gaps at all just yet, but there were a pair of holes in the fence where he noticed zombies meandering about inside, and so he did not get too close.

  He hadn’t made it far when he heard the moaning and scraping sounds of the living dead again, as if they were agitated or stimulate by something nearby. He froze, thinking that they might have seen him or Shadow, but then realized that was not likely.

  He couldn’t see what was going on, or anything at all for that matter from his current vantage point, as the fence was solid and stood at least eight feet tall, he guessed.

  “Wait here, Shadow,” he announced to the wolf as he climbed the nearest tree to get a look over the fence. He lost an arrow on the way up and took note of where it landed.

  As he righted himself, what he saw next astounded him.

  He observed several buildings packed closely together, several tents and kiosks, and in the open area where visitors would mingle, instead, a huge mob of zombies was assembled. It was probably the largest gathering of the living dead he had ever seen before.

  Thoughts of returning to the cabin on the hill began to flood his mind and he was about to climb down and do just that, when something stopped him. He scanned the area, and took note that a woman stood on top of a roof of a structure, peering out around her. Alex took note that she was completely surrounded by the zombie infestation.

  It did not look good for her chances of getting away.

  “Here we go again, eh?” Alex thought, recalling with some anguish, that he had left Olivia to the potential and terrible future she might have had with Joe and Todd only a month or so ago. He thought of his recent vow to uphold the same principles that his beloved Sara would and affirmed that he would never again leave someone behind. Not if he could do anything to help.

  He squinted in her direction again and watched as she slumped to her backside resignedly, a sword in one hand, and something else in the other. He looked down and recalled that the constant thumping against his chest every time he moved, courtesy of the item hanging around his neck, would help in this case. He held the binoculars over his eyes, stared out, and observed the woman more closely.

  She held a canteen upside down over her mouth, but Alex could see no water escape from its neck. He wondered how long she had been trapped up there. She did not appear on death’s door, but she certainly looked fatigued and frail by his estimation. She dropped her weapon and placed her hands over her head in frustration. She had short, dark hair and appeared to be olive skinned.

  Perhaps she was African American, Native American or Indian? And she has a sword? Now that’s a r
eal zombie killer! Alex decided with a nod. “Now how am I going to get her down from there?”

  She wore remnants of what once may have been a beautiful frilly dress and bodice-type outfit. The sleeves were tattered and partially missing, the bottom portion of the dress appeared torn away leaving the skin below her knees exposed, and she wore what looked to be a pair of sneakers. He almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of the garb, but stifled it, refocusing on the gravity of the situation.

  He considered firing an arrow over to her, but he did not want to spook her or startle her into falling off the roof. He climbed back down the tree, found a couple of tiny pebbles, put them in his pocket, and climbed back up, still able to see her.

  His first throw was well short of the mark, and his second flew past her and over the roof, which she did not even notice. The third however, landed right beside her and caused her to look about curiously.

  Her eyes landed on him and he waved to her. Alex began to gesture like some kind of unstoppable moron, thinking that she could understand his meanings. All she did was shrug and put her hands up resignedly. He put the binoculars to his face and witnessed her as she made a sour face at him, too. It had to be at least fifty feet away, he guessed, probably more, but he could see her expression clear as day through the binoculars.

  Zombies clawed at the walls, trying to get at her. The back side of the building was a smallish alley, maybe wide enough for a pair to walk side by side, with another row of structures right beside it. The zombies were jammed into that walkway, too. The sides were butted up to other buildings, like a set of row homes. The front area of the buildings was wide open and looked to Alex like a picnic grove, with many benches and tables strewn about. There must have been a hundred zombies gathered there, luckily they were all slow in their movements—starving by his estimation.