Life Among The Dead

by Daniel Cotton

  “Give me a second.” He looks back to the man on the black and orange motorcycle. He creeps closer, about to touch him to see if he can rouse a response. The man’s head hangs low, obscured by hunched shoulders.

  “The kids have to piss really bad, Oz.” David, the male nurse, insists.

  Oz stops just short of touching the man. He jogs to the restrooms to ensure they are safe for the little ones. He is happy to see the lights are on. Somehow this place has electricity. Only a few of the bulbs actually glow, the rest have burned out. It’s better than nothing. He looks in every stall of the male and the female lavatories. They are clear.

  “Ok.” Oz waves them towards him as he lights a cigarette and leans against the brick building. David helps the kids out of the back of the truck. They congregate near him until every last one is unloaded. The nurse rushes the tiny survivors to the lavatories; they split off and head into the appropriate latrine for their genders.

  Oz stays outside. He wants to remain within earshot of them so he puts off his investigation until they are loaded back onto the truck.

  The children are making a racket in the restrooms, splashing and laughing. Their ruckus echoes out to the janitor. It reminds him of their exodus from Waterloo.

  #

  The fireball had come at them along the line of stalled traffic. The vehicles exploded in succession as Oz retreated backwards. He cut the wheel to the right and was able to pull the trailer back into the hospital’s ER entrance, nearly jack knifing the rig.

  The inferno passed them by, so close Oz had to shield his eyes from the scorching glare. He had felt bad about the bumpy ride, and hoped the children were all right.

  “Sorry kids.” He had said. He figured the jostling was better than being blown up or roasted. He couldn’t get out to check on them, the dead were all around the cab. He turned off his engine and could hear the kids screaming. He had to get them out of the city.

  The rig was pulled back on to Main Street. To his right Oz watched as the Washington Bridge fell into the Charles River. To the left he could see the chain reaction of combustion had ceased where the cars were spread a little further apart. He headed south.

  The janitor didn’t know where the guy with the muzzle loader said he was heading except that is was north, and the place started with the word ‘New’. That really could be anywhere, Oz had thought. New London is just three miles out of town.

  The south passage out of the city was blocked. The truck driver turned east, knocking cars and zombies aside without slowing. His heavy truck was a juggernaut once it got going.

  The east side of the city was nearly all industrial; factories and corporations operated in cheaply made, corrugated steel buildings. The tractor-trailer plowed its way through everything that stood in its path and left the urban jungle behind.

  They sped along a tree-lined highway for a few miles. There wasn’t a car, or human in sight. The best part was there wasn’t a walking corpse either. Oz found a field and drove the truck into the center. He wanted an unobstructed view all around them when he got out.

  The concerned man ran to the back of the rig and opened the double doors that contained the children. They were just fine. A few bumps and scrapes, but nothing major. David had ensured the boxes of snack foods didn’t fall on their heads. The fading sunlight filtered through the partially translucent roof, allowing him to see their smiling faces. They had been screaming all right, as well as cheering and laughing during the whole ordeal like it was some sort of ride.

  It’ll be dark soon, Oz thought. He wanted to get the kids someplace safe and warm. He could feel the cold coming in. He had heard there was supposed to be a frost that night with subzero temperatures. The kids would need blankets and good food.

  “You think we can just run to an Ultramart, or something?” David had said snidely.

  That’s a brilliant idea, even if he is being a smartass, Oz had thought.

  “That’s exactly what we’ll do.” Oz knew of one to the northeast that would be perfect, a hell of a drive, but well worth it.

  Most Ultramarts are tossed up overnight in towns. They drive out the mom and pop establishments with their wider selections and lower prices. Not the one Oz had in mind. It was just off the highway and the only thing around it for miles was a gas station.

  “They’ll be cold tonight,” Oz told David. “We’ll have them safe and warm by morning.”

  17

  The large man is helping some of the kids David has sent out of the bathrooms back into the trailer. He marvels at how cozy it is now compared to how it was before the department store. They have blankets and beanbag chairs. Body pillows and mattresses line the bottom. All of the padding is laid on top of large plastic storage tubs filled with the spoils of their stay. They waited out the winter in that Ultramart.

  “Are we going to find another place soon?” One of the children asks Oz who easily hefts the kid into the truck.

  “Soon, Gordy.” He hopes he isn’t lying. Using up the store’s resources was one of the many inevitables they had encountered. Oz isn’t sure another store will be viable for as long as the last one. The food would be spoiled, and who knows if someone may have beaten them to the claim.

  “Are we ready?” David asks escorting the last of the kids.

  “I have to do one thing first.” Oz tells him.

  “What?” David asks, but is ignored. Oz is walking back to the pumps. He has to check on that guy. There was just something drawing him, compelling him to investigate.

  The man hasn’t moved since Oz had left him. He places one of his large hands on the man’s shoulder and pulls him back. The rifle is at the ready, and pressed against the guy’s temple. There is no need for it. The stranger is stiff as a board and has a giant hole through the sides of his head.

  Oz sees a large pistol by his feet, blood stains the muzzle. Obviously suicide, Oz deduces. The note he finds confirms it, written in a beat-up hardcover notebook. The man had the cover folded back, and had laid it in his lap. Oz reads:

  #

  To who ever found me,

  Feel free to take any of my gear. You probably need it more than I do now. You are probably feeling tired and weary from the road. I’ll bet you have been wandering for a long time, trying to find a nice place to settle and be safe. If you a want to stop running there is a place called New Castle. There’s ample food and shelter to go around. The best people on Earth live there. I know that isn’t saying much these days, but what else do you have going on?

  On the back cover of this book you will find a map I pasted there. I marked New Castle for you. It’s easy to find just head east from here, follow the signs. Tell them Uncle Bruce sent you and they will roll out the red carpet. Give this book to my nephew Dan Williamson. He’s the King of the joint. Thank you!

  P.S. If you happen to have room, please take me home.

  18

  Oz reads some of the other passages starting at the beginning. He doesn’t hear David sidle up to him.

  “What’s that?” The nurse asks.

  “A diary.” Oz responds.

  “Oh. Do we know where we’re going from here?”

  “New Castle.” Oz is engrossed in the hand written words of the deceased man on the chopper.

  “Great. Can I sit up front? Those kids are a handful.”

  “Bruce already called shotgun.”

  “Who the hell is Bruce?” David knows they don’t have a kid by that name among them.

  “This is Bruce. Show some respect, he happens to be a king. How long would you say he’s been dead?” Oz asks the medical professional.

  “Hard to say.” David pokes Bruce’s body. “It isn’t really my specialty. I would estimate about two weeks.”

  “Well, he’s joining the team.” The janitor leaves the man standing there speechless and staring at Bruce’s gaping head wound as he walks to the back of the truck. He wants to give the kids the good news.

  “All right you little demons, liste
n up. We may have a home to go to after all.”

  The kids all cheer. They are asking millions of questions all at once. Oz grabs a blanket from the back and walks away. The kids are screaming louder for recognition of their inquiries.

  “Are there kids there?”

  “Do we have to go to school again?”

  “Do they have ice cream?”

  “When’s lunch?”

  Oz just keeps walking. He responds to all their questions with a single answer. “Shut up or I’ll feed you to the zombies.”

  He often makes that idle threat, and the kids always find it funny. They know he is just a teddy bear, their big scary teddy bear. He hasn’t seen them so happy since that winter in the store. It’s nice. They have been on the road for about a month now, living off of whatever they can find since their provisions have been running dry.

  Oz wraps the biker in the blanket. He notices something shiny hanging from the man’s hand. Oz has to force the hand open to find out what it is. A dog tag: Steele, Rashida. Also in the dead hand is a small plastic locket.

  “No fucking way.” Oz says looking at the pictures. He recognizes the man standing behind a beautiful black haired girl “I know you!”

  He loads Bruce into the passenger seat. The man is already posed in a permanent seated position. Oz has to now find some way to tow the bike. He is happy there is a sidecar. It should keep it steady as long as they don’t go too fast.

  Groaning, Oz climbs into the seat he has come to know all too well. He is looking forward to getting somewhere where he can climb out and stay out. Even when he had pulled the truck into the auto center at the Ultramart, he knew he would one day have to get back in.

  #

  The parking lot of the Ultramart was almost empty on that cold morning. Oz had driven all night. There were just a few cars parked in the spaces closest to the front entrance. Oz figured they were the night clean-up people. He was surprised and relieved that this particular super store wasn’t on their 24-hour holiday schedule yet. Usually big monopolies like this tried to suck all the cash they could out of people.

  He had to leave the kids in the back while he found a way in. It was dark inside, Oz had to proceed with caution. The only available light was what little spilled down the aisles and displays from the front windows that made up half of the front wall. He heard their moaning in the otherwise quiet store. From the cars outside he estimated about three, more if they car-pooled.

  He carried his trusty wrench to the registers. Among the items placed for impulsive shoppers to see and purchase he took a small battery operated radio and loaded in four double A’s. Oz then crept to the doors.

  Most Ultramarts have a large vestibule full of gumball machines that never seem to be filled with gumballs, an impossible crane game, and a few quarter draining arcade machines. The janitor had to pry the doors apart that would normally open like magic. Oz placed his bait down and turned it on. A man’s voice droned about how people need to stay indoors and avoid anyone who has been bitten.

  They appeared from the darkness, shambling to the vestibule, drawn by the monotone enticement. Oz watched from behind the checkout area. Three men in run of the mill street clothes hobbled into the large room of glass and diversions.

  The zombies stood in the morning sunlight that filled the front area. They looked around for the meal they were promised, but saw nothing to eat. The rumble of many small wheels rolling on the worn linoleum attracted their attention back to the darkness. They saw Oz coming at them pushing two long rows of shopping carts. They had no chance to react even if they were capable of such a thing.

  The steel carriages struck them and drove them back against the front wall. They tried to reach for the man. Oz just pressed the carts harder against their bodies. He divided the snake like rows, and was able to squeeze the dead tight enough to prop the handles against the doors that flanked him. He had them trapped.

  Oz had to quickly bludgeon them. He had thought of running to the sporting goods department, but he knew all the guns would be locked up. The corpses writhed and twisted, trying to get at the big man who beat them savagely with his long wrench.

  The cleanup could wait. Oz had to get the kids inside. They looked like sad newborn kittens as they huddled together trying to keep warm. He led them to the jewelry counter. It wrapped around them like a horseshoe and would make a suitable fort while Oz worked on warming the place up.

  He grabbed sweaters from a nearby rack and told them to bundle up. He noticed for the first time he could see his own breath inside the department store. It was just a whisper of steam that escaped when he exhaled, but it still meant it was damned cold.

  Back at the vestibule Oz removed most of the carts, leaving one. He tossed the remainder through the window, even colder air rushed in. He then dropped the dead out through the newly opened portal. Letting in more cold air may have seemed counterproductive to anyone else, Oz had a plan.

  Duraflame logs were placed in the bottoms of metal trashcans that the man slid to the front of the store. Oz lit the paper wrapped pieces of wood. The smoke was able to escape through the shattered window. He brought his companions out to warm up by the makeshift campfires. David stayed with the tykes while Oz checked the place out for more dead.

  The entire store was theirs. Oz planned out everything on the fly. He rolled some out-of-season barbecue grills out from the back. Frozen foods from the supermarket section were tossed outside once it really got cold. They had everything they needed, at least for a little while.

  Oz was able to rig electronics to a series of car batteries. Keeping the kids occupied was key. They had TV, DVDs, radio, and video games. The provider was also able to run some space heaters off of the batteries.

  Fresh fruits and vegetables from the produce area lasted them a few weeks after that they had to make do with the wide assortment of canned goods. The kids’ diets were supplemented with chewable vitamins. Oz had a tough time keeping them away from the junk food. He wasn’t opposed to the idea of candies or cookies, but he knew the kids would opt to have them for dinner instead of the well-balanced meals he was trying to feed them.

  Being one of the larger Ultramarts, this store had an impressive pharmacy that luckily met the sick children’s medication requirements. Keeping them healthy, happy and warm were Oz’s goals and he vowed to the God he no longer believed in that he would keep them safe as well.

  There was an inevitable snag in keeping them happy. Near the end of the first month the kids started to ask about their parents. Oz knew it would happen; he had been trying to think of what to tell these cute little survivors.

  He told them the truth. He had no idea where their parents were or even how they were. He was able to alleviate their sadness a bit when he told them that he knew their parents would be happy that they were being taken care of. He told them that their folks would proud of how well they were doing despite the state of the world and the odds that were against them.

  That was around Christmas time. Oz spent the next few days putting together every artificial Christmas tree in the place with David and the kids’ help. They decorated them with lights, and garland, and every shiny ornament they could find. They all camped in a magical forest of Christmas trees, Santa found the children just fine that year.

  It wasn’t all fun and games. Oz never slept for more than an hour at a time. He was barely eating anything nutritious himself, trying to save the good food for the children. He easily took up smoking again with the abundance of cigarettes at his disposal. It also gave him an excuse to walk the perimeter of the store. He would look out at the horizon through binoculars while he carried one of the many liberated firearms.

  He knew it was just a matter of time before the world thawed, and the dead walked again. The Protector actually walked out to the end of the lot one day and saw a few of them. The dead were standing mid stride, frozen solid. The creatures must have been attracted to some sign of life at the store and were on their way when the
big chill occurred. More of them were visible on the highway.

  It was just a matter of time before they would have to leave anyway due to the dwindling resources inside their fortress. And, it was just a matter of time before someone came knocking. Someone else trying to survive, and who may not be looking to share. Someone who may try to take what they need.

  They came one evening. Oz was outside cooking burgers for the kids. He was grilling on three different barbecues when he saw their vehicle, a tow truck of all things. It drove around the zombie statues that seemed to get closer every day. Oz had discovered they weren’t completely immobile. He had placed a hockey puck on the ground and spent a week measuring how far and at what rate one corpse traveled. It wasn’t anything to worry about, a mere two and a half inches a week.

  The wrecker came to a sliding halt in the deep snow. Two men got out of the cramped cab, leaving the driver behind the wheel. Oz looked them over and disregarded them to flip his patties.

  “Excuse me.” One man spoke. “We’re from Sinclair. We’ve come all this way looking for food. Actually, we figured this store would be deserted.”

  Oz didn’t respond. He just continued to mind his cooking.

  “We have about twenty people we need to feed…”

  “I got that beat.” Oz said without taking his eyes from the sizzling beef. They’re just about ready for cheese, he had thought.

  “Look,” The other man moved towards Oz. “We’re going in, and taking what we want. You don’t own this store.”

  “I have dozens of sick children that I have to feed in there. You aren’t taking a fucking thing away from them.” Oz said coolly.

  All around the area Oz had coolers buried in the snow, filled with things he needed to keep frozen. He had large plastic ones filled with meats, and small Styrofoam ones filled with TV dinners and ice creams. He had meals planned out weeks in advance for his children.