“Derek, they’re coming!” He can hear Stevie yell. The boy can’t hold them captivated any longer, not with a fresh food source so conveniently located.
Derek lets out a cry. He knows he won’t be able to get up through the hole in time. He dives under the bed again, but meets the rower. He can’t budge the exorcise machine. She never even uses it, he barks in his mind as his thoughts race. His brain starts making wild wishes. I wish Warren was here. It’s an odd thought. His mom had dated Warren for four years, the last three he had lived with them. The man died 6 months ago, shot when someone tried to rob the gas station he night managed. He wants Warren here because the man had a gun.
“That he kept by the bed.” Derek looks at the mess made by the toppled nightstand when it landed on its side. He pulls out the drawer letting its contents fall. Derek tosses the wooded box at the approaching dead and looks around the pile of stuff. He sees romance novels, and his mom’s check book, condoms, lotion and a vibrator. No gun. The dead are on top of him.
Becka watches in horror as their teeth sink into his flesh. Hungry mouths rend strips of meat while the boy screams such a terrifying scream. His body is man handled. The zombies pull him around, each trying to get their share of the bounty. Derek’s head flops with the motion of every tug. His screaming fades. The corpses crouch over his limp body feeding like suckling pigs.
Becka buries her face in her hands and weeps. Stevie crawls over to her. He didn’t watch it happen and can’t bring himself to look down. He puts a hand on Becka’s shoulder, offering her support. The sounds of the feast emanate from below, wet and sickening noises that make Stevie gag. He urges Becka to come away from the hole.
9
Dan rests his head against the fence feeling better, empty inside, but better nonetheless. He didn’t have much in his stomach to begin with, just coffee and some jerky. In his rush to get out the door this morning he had burned his breakfast.
The old man paws at the fence behind him. Dan tries not to register the zombie. He wants to think of happier things. He ignores the sound of the Admiral’s fingernails scraping against the wood and digs into his shirt pocket for a slightly crushed pack of cigarettes. He pulls one out with his teeth and returns the pack.
The soldier must straighten out one leg to gain access to his hip pocket where his lighter is. The thought of the movement makes him groan, but he needs a smoke. The lighter opens with a click. He takes that first glorious drag then flips the lighter closed. He admires the object and smiles. Heather gave it to him last Christmas, just a simple silver refillable. No designs or flash. Exactly what he had wanted. He slides it back into its home and withdraws another object, a good luck charm he always carries.
As he holds the tiny plastic thing on top of two fingertips he feels miles away from the walking dead. Its and oval disk adorned with a skull and crossbones. His thumbnail finds a crack along the edges of it and it opens like a clamshell. Inside the cheap novelty locket is a small picture of his wife. He looks into her dazzling jade eyes, and then traces her beautiful face that is framed by her long raven hair.
The other side of the locket is empty. That spot is reserved for their first child. The soldier can hardly believe that in just a couple short weeks, he is going to be a daddy. His smile starts to fade. A fire is ignited inside of him.
His seasickness relieved, he forces himself to stand. If I am to see Heather and my child, I need to get moving. Though he desperately wants to get to his wife, he knows he is no good to her dead, or bitten. He’ll have to be careful.
He faces the back of yet another house, this one a white two story. He performs a cursory inspection. There is a sliding glass door entering the house. Gates blocked the alleys. The soldier can see the dead on the street heading east towards Jimmy’s. Probably curious about the explosion, he thinks. He had assumed they are attracted to sound as one way of finding food.
Proceeding to the back door he crouches below the fences in the alleys. One wooden riser puts him on the redwood deck. He doesn’t know what is in store for him in this house, but he feels he must enter. The determined soldier finds the door slides open freely.
Pushing through a set of vertical blinds the man follows the muzzle of his almost empty M-16. His breathing deepens as he feels tension build in his chest. He pulls a cord along the blinds to open them so he can glance around the home. He carefully takes baby steps inside. Dan doesn’t want any surprises.
Except for the light spilling in from behind him, it is dark. He takes in his new surroundings; he is in a dining room. In the middle is a large oval table. To the right of the table he can see a door that he suspects leads to the kitchen. On the same wall a window is cut out looking into the next room, two bar stools sit underneath it.
The soldier slowly walks around the table toward the window and glances in. Amid the shadows he can see the outlines of cabinetry and in the center there appears to be a large island. On the far wall he sees a door that may lead to the alley between this house and the next. He continues, passing a china hutch that displays serving ware and tea sets.
The dining room ends at an archway. The hardwood floor meets carpeting. The soldier creeps into a living room he would die for. If the situation was different he could see spending some time in here. On the right hand wall a huge entertainment center stands, within it sits the largest television Dan has ever seen. Upon shelves, orbiting the set like satellites, are various gadgets. He can’t tell what they are, just black boxes with red and green LED lights shining away.
The sunlight from the sliding door behind him ends and Dan is in awe. Before the gargantuan T.V. is a massive couch, large enough to seat a basketball team comfortably. It is in the shape of a horseshoe and is recessed into the floor. A coffee table is placed down in the middle creating an island.
“Fuck me.” Dan is forced to whisper. He thinks of his own cramped apartment. “Must be nice.”
Two recliners are at the far wall, their backs to a large picture window. The soldier walks past the impressive geography of the living room to the window. There is a heavy fabric curtain beneath a thick layer of lace. He locates the pull cord and cracks the blackout shade slightly.
Peering out to the street through the translucent lace Dan can see the dead continuing their parade east. Some are dressed for work while some are still dressed for bed. And they always will be, Dan sadly realizes. A blonde woman passes by who isn’t dressed for anything. She is completely naked. Dan can’t take his eyes off of her. There is something even odder about her then her lack of clothing. He notices she is not injured. There isn’t a mark on her that he can see. Another zombie bumps the naked woman and she stumbles around in a circle. Dan catches a glimpse of her entire body. Not a bite. Not a scratch.
Dan slowly pulls the cord to open the crack wider before she leaves his range of vision. He can’t see how she contracted it. The living dead girl is soon out of sight as she passes the hedges that separated this home from the Admiral’s. Dan is looking at the driveway and disheartened when he sees it is empty.
He leaves the curtain open for light. They shouldn’t be able to see inside if it’s dark in here, he figures. His attention returns to the house. He looks past the window to a small breezeway. He can see a set of stairs and across from that is the front door, which stands ajar. Between them he can see another door that he speculates is a bathroom or a closet.
Wait. He tells himself to backtrack. Ajar? He looks again at the front door and confirms that it is opened slightly. He can see daylight through the void. Even in this neighborhood you don’t do that, he chastises the residents. He stands there, staring at the gaping breach of security. He feels very vulnerable and wonders if he should risk closing it. He looks out the window to the legion of undead that passes by. They aren’t lured to the open door. If just one of them sees or hears it shut… They’ll all come down on me. I have to leave it open.
He retreats to the dining room where he stands and resumes his watch of the door. H
is head lowers and moves from side to side trying to see if any zombies are nearby. He is feeling jumpy. Paranoia forces him to look around and over his shoulders, as if one may have snuck past him somehow.
He leans his head into the kitchen and his vision slowly becomes accustomed to the darkness inside. Next to the door leading outside he can see a phone affixed to the wall. The handset is connected to the receiver by an extremely long cord that would allow the chef of the house free mobility while preparing meals.
Dan puts his hands on the brass plate of the white door and pushes it open. It swings back and forth behind him before coming to a rest. He is tiptoeing fearful that they might hear him out on the street. He lays his rifle on the center island that’s cluttered with bowls and measuring implements, there are several bags containing different types of flour. He reaches the phone and picks up the receiver. They can afford that living room but not a cordless? He thinks to himself.
Phone in hand Dan looks out the small window of a rather flimsy door. The alley is on the other side. He spots the next fence and beyond that a red house. Only a simple hook secured the lightweight door.
Now he stares at the illuminated numbers of the phone and draws a complete blank. What the hell is her number? He can’t remember. He always uses speed dial when he calls her. He closes his eyes and concentrates. A digit at a time the number forms in his head. His index finger pushes them into the phone and he listens, hoping he got it right. It’s ringing.
The soldier impatiently waits with his arms crossed. He leans his anxious body against the thin strip of wall that holds the phone. The man’s back depressed a knob and the lights switch on with a blaze against the whiteness of the kitchen. Scarlet smears along the floor and walls contrast the sterile decor.
Dan’s stomach drops from the shock. He hears a rustling in the kitchen with him. On the floor by the far side of the island he sees a morbidly obese woman come into view. She drags herself along the slick linoleum with her ham hock arms. The yellow frock she wears is rigid from dried blood. He can see her throat has been torn out as she lifts her head to view her perspective meal.
The soldier backs away, but meets the wall. The massive woman takes his boot in a fierce grip and tries to bring it to her gaping mouth.
Dan kicks out. He pulls and fights but cannot shake her. The man hops along the kitchen towards the swinging door wanting more room to maneuver. He wants to snag his rifle as he passes the island, but he can’t reach it and can’t risk stopping. The behemoth is very strong, and very hungry.
He drags her along the floor desperately trying to keep his flesh out of her mouth’s reach. The phone is still in his hands ringing; its cord dangles like a child’s jump rope. He hurls the receiver at her head. It bounces off her skull without fazing her. A voice can be heard:
“Your call cannot be completed as dialed…”
Inch by inch Dan and the fat zombie make it to the door. He enters the dining room, holding the wall and door as he positions the woman’s head against the door jam. It takes all of his might before the deceased woman loses leverage. The soldier has both hands on the window between the rooms, straining to get out of her grasp. She finally loses her grip.
His newfound freedom sends Dan flying into the china cabinet. A cascade of porcelain falls with a crash to the hardwood flooring. The hutch itself rocks back and forth before toppling with a thud.
Dan lies on his stomach next to the fallen cabinet. Fearfully, he looks towards the front door. Through the gap he can see the undead pedestrians have paused, now fixated on the house. Slowly they start to move towards it, drawn by the noise. He lets out a groan of despair as he pushes himself to his knees. The soldier’s leg is ensnared once again when the large woman wraps her hands around his boot.
Dan turns in time to see she has engulfed the toe of his shoe in her mouth. He kicks and rolls but he can’t free himself from her gnawing teeth. The soldier shimmies to the wall and starts to batter her head against it with a series of savage kicks.
“Get off me you bitch!” He yells out of desperation. After a barrage of blows she finally falls limp. He wriggles his boot free; her mouth remains open in a silent scream. All of her teeth have been knocked back in excruciating angles.
He hears the moaning getting closer and knows they are at the door without having to look. He runs into the kitchen, hopping over the portly corpse. He heads straight to the side door expecting to just fly out and jump the fence, but through the small window he can see the dead clog the alley.
The zombies are in the house. The soldier catches sight of them through the opening between rooms. He can’t panic. The back door is open, he recalls, running to the swinging door. It doesn’t move. Dan’s face rebounds off of the wood. He shoves at the door, but it isn’t going anywhere. It’s her. He thinks. She is lying in front and it won’t swing out. At the bottom of the door Dan can see a roll of her fat is wedged in the space underneath.
There is no handle to pull, only a flat brass plate to push against. He tries to use his fingernails to gain purchase around the metal, but they aren’t long enough. He had just trimmed them the night before.
The dead pollute the living room. A few of them fall into Couch Canyon and are trying to scale the other side. There has to be something, he tells himself as his eyes dart around the kitchen. He has his M-16 in his hands but only one shot.
He takes a look at the island and formulates a plan. Moving to the granite topped alter he slips in the occupants blood and almost ends up on the floor. He grabs the counter for balance. The soldier is behind the structure facing the dining room. He lowers his body placing his shoulder up against it. He shoves with all his might, his feet push against the cabinets behind him. It won’t budge. It’s just too heavy.
Broken china crunches, and the moaning becomes louder and louder as they get closer, and more abundant. He attempts another shove but has to give it up; the strain makes his temples throb and his lips tingle. He can feel the blood rushing to his face from the exertion.
Several bags of flour lay on top of the immovable mass of counter. He has one last ditch idea and it’s a long shot. The desperate man grabs a bag of flour and starts to throw around the white powder causing a dust cloud to hang thick in the air. He repeats this with the other bags using the combat knife from his belt to open the sealed sacks.
The dead are pushing their way through the door. Some crawl in through the window. Dan hurls the final heavy bag of wheat at the closest corpse. The deceased, yet mobile gentleman’s head knocks backwards from the impact; a cloud takes its place for a few seconds.
The air is full of billions of minute particles that make Dan want to cough. He hasn’t much faith in his own plan, but realizes one bullet won’t do much to save him. He opens a cabinet with his foot as he watches the cloud swirl around, caught in imperceptible currents of air. He leans to the flat top and blows a layer of settled flour back into circulation.
The zombies are making their way around the island. Dan crawls into the cramped space he had opened. Pots and pans rattle and gong as he moves over them and shoves them around. He holds his rifle tightly to his chest as he closes the door, save for a mere crack.
Through the crack Dan extends his hand outward. He holds his lighter out and flips it open. His Uncle Bruce had told him about old grain silos and their tendency to blow up. People had to work without light for fear that the slightest spark would set them off. He turns the wheel of the lighter hoping good old Uncle Bruce wasn’t just putting him on. The flame is waved like a concertgoer’s Bic as the dead close in on the offering of meat.
Miniscule particles catch fire. Their neighbors quickly follow suit in a chain reaction. Dan takes his hand back just before the force slams the cabinet door closed. The air in the kitchen becomes incinerated with a bang. The concussion causes the ground to shake and some windows to blow outward.
The soldier’s ears ring as he emerges from the pots and pans. The cabinet door falls from its hinges. He lo
oks around the charred and smoldering kitchen. The dead were all blown against the walls and out through the door and window. The side door has also been taken off its hardware; it now leans against the next fence. Dan runs outside and can see the zombies struggling against each other to get off the ground. They must have toppled like dominoes, he thinks, walking up the flimsy wooden ramp. His feet slide down the slick surface as he tries to move up the incline. He refuses to allow gravity to win.
Some of the dead are already on their feet again and approaching. The man has reached as far as he thinks he can walk, any higher and his weight just pulls him down the bowing wood. He dives forward, grabbing onto the top edge of the fence. As fast as he can, he propels himself up and over the vertical barrier.
Dan lands hard on his right side. He doesn’t allow the pain to stop him from at least checking out his new surroundings. He is relieved to find that the alley is blocked off towards the front of the red house. In the opposite direction he sees no movement. He aims his carbine towards the backyard just in case. The soldier allows himself time to recover from the grain explosion.
10
The dark crawlspace warms under the afternoon sun despite the chill of the air outside. Becka and Stevie sit in silence as sweat starts to bead on their foreheads and droplets run down their noses. Lazy moans still emanate from the dead below. They haven’t dared to move for what feels like an eternity, even when the whole house shook briefly. What the fuck is going on? Becka had asked herself. The world has gone berserk. She has decided to keep her distance from the holes that overlook the second floor,
Stevie stares down into his late friend’s mother’s room. He watches as the zombies pace. They appear to be searching for something. He avoids letting his eyes rest on his buddy’s limp and shredded corpse. Not long after Derek stopped screaming did they lose interest in his body. The boy wipes a bead of sweat from one of the lenses of his glasses. He wonders if they are looking for them. Despite his fear, Stevie is trying to brainstorm a way out. All he has come up with so far is to keep quiet. Maybe they’ll just go away.
Life Among The Dead Page 4