The Dead Don't Bleed: Part 2, The Aftermath

by S. Ganley

  "Shit." Kyle exclaimed as the implication suddenly became crystal clear. Forgetting the path altogether, he moved quickly into the wood line following after the new footprints. Through a break in the trees he spotted a fleeting shadow darting out from the trees in front of the station and moving across the open ground towards the small wooden porch. He raised the rifle to his shoulder and was just about to fire off a shot when he checked himself. Two things made him hold his fire. The first was his natural police instinct that his target was not clear enough to confirm that it was a threat. It could possibly be Shellie out looking for him or just getting some air, but he thought it unlikely, the figure was larger than either of the girls, he was pretty sure it was a man. He thought it was also possible that Garrett or Calvin had returned without his knowledge. The second thought that occurred to him was that if he fired now, the echo of that single shot would carry for a long distance through the woods, more so now that it was approaching dusk. Dropping the rifle back to his side he continued moving as quickly as possible through the woods getting closer to the swatch of open ground in front of the shack.

  The trees were thinning in front of him but the light was also fading faster at that point. He could see movement on the porch just in front of the door and it was at that point that he knew for sure that it wasn't Garret, Calvin or any other living human being. The awkward and drunken gait was what gave it away as well as the apparent confusion on how to get inside the shack. Anyone with half their senses intact would have simply just tried the door as soon as they climbed the stairs to the porch, in this case their visitor staggered from one end of the porch to the other searching for a way inside. By the way its head kept tipping up skyward every few seconds, Kyle could tell that it was a zombie that had picked up a scent and was following it to its source. None of them understood exactly how that worked, why they picked up some scents from a great distance away and were able to follow it accurately while in other cases they didn't seem capable of sniffing out nearby humans. This one must have walked within only a few feet of him in the woods and never detected his presence. Something about one or both of the women inside the shack must have been more appealing to the creature. Kyle could already see what was about to happen, the door had been left cracked open just a bit, something that Shellie had taken to doing so she could hear outside in case he called for her. The zombie must have finally noticed the thin sliver of light coming from inside the shack and pushed his body up against the opening and in an instant disappeared from sight inside the station.

  Kyle started running towards the front porch as fast as he could. Stealth was no longer a consideration at this point. The zombie was already inside and it would actually be better if the creature detected him and came back out to meet him in the open. He considered shouting at least a warning to Shellie but then stopped himself at the last second. If he called out the chances were good that Shellie would respond in some way, either by making noise with sudden movement or crying out to him and give away their location before he could reach them. There was still a chance that the zombie wouldn’t head directly to the room where both women were. The extra few seconds it spent searching elsewhere for the source of the scent it was following might be the difference between life and death for the ladies.

  Kyle's foot had just stepped down on the first step leading up to the front porch when Shellie's first terrified scream of abject terror sent cold shivers down his spine.

  #

  Garrett took in the landscape of the storm shelter that Doug had basically turned into his own private man cave to give him some peace and quiet away from his wife and her every growing annoying habits. There was a small well-worn sofa that looked much more comfortable that the stuffy, high end furnishings more common to houses in this zip code. There was a modest coffee table separating the couch from an impressively sized flat screen TV set into a second hand entertainment center along with a video game system and an extensive collection of games set neatly along a bottom shelf. Garrett found it surprising that Doug would be the type to spend time playing video games like a teenager. He had him pegged more for the type to sit by himself and read through medical journals and writing articles or something more along those lines. Behind the couch there was a pile of blankets and pillows spread out on the floor showing signs of the room having being used as a makeshift shelter. More blankets and pillows on the couch itself indicated where Doug's wife most likely had been sleeping. From what Garrett had gathered, she was not the type willing to join the common folk on the floor. The next indicator that the room had been used as a hideout for several days was the smell. It was not just normal body odor funk that comes from people put in close proximity to one another without the benefit of a showering for some time. There were several other unpleasant aromas intermixing to form an almost noxious plume of stagnant air throughout the room, he recognized the smell of trash as well as the unmistakable scent of human waste. The three people living in this room had turned it into a cesspool of human decay. Garrett thought that it actually stood as a testament to just how quickly people were capable of returning to their animal roots when faced with a rapid decline of societal norms. He hoped that this was not the life that all of them should eventually expect to find themselves facing.

  It was less than five seconds after Calvin had closed and locked the door to the storm shelter that the first loud and forceful banging against it began. Garrett could actually see the door moving slightly against its frame as it was pummeled from the outside over and over by any number of zombies. Considering the layout of the basement he realized that by putting the entrance in that little hallway instead of on the face of the far wall had saved their lives. Only a handful of zombies would be able to press themselves into that narrow hallway at any one time. This would not allow them to get more than a couple hundred pounds of actual pressure built up against the outside of the door. If the door had been on the face of the long wall and directly accessible to the more spacious and open area of the basement, dozens if not hundreds of the creatures would have been able to press their combined weight against it all at once and likely knocked it clear of its hinges in short order.

  Standing shoulder to shoulder, Garrett and Calvin kept their rifles up and aimed towards the door as the banging increased in intensity. They had barely noticed the other two occupants in the shelter when they made their hasty entry, but now Garrett started to pick up on a heated discussion just over his shoulder in the back corner of the small space. Glancing behind him he saw Doug standing toe to toe with a woman he assumed was his wife. Garrett was never one to pass judgment on anyone by their looks and appearance alone, but he thought this was a good opportunity to make an exception to that rule. He knew instantly that he wasn't going to like this woman. He could see just pure bitch written all over her pudgy face and by the way she was already jumping down Doug's throat after all that they had been through he could tell that her husband’s well-being, not to mention that of a group of strangers that he had suddenly appeared with, was the last thing on her mind. Even with zombies just outside the door and pounding to get inside, he could hear the woman arguing with her husband not only about returning without the food he had left for but she also seemed pissed off about him bringing some little 'hussy', as she called it, into her home. Garrett could only assume she was referring to Miranda's presence and not making any effort to hide that fact with Miranda standing only five feet away from the couple.

  They had just been through an experience where any of them could have easily been killed or served up as a snack to a throng of blood thirst zombies and this woman's attitude was just a little bit more than Garrett was willing to stomach at the moment. The beating and pounding of fists against the outside of the door only a few feet away did nothing to muffle her on going barrage against her husband. Doug was evidently too shell-shocked to do much about it and stood meekly by listening to her abuse while staring quietly at the floor.

  "I think that is just about enough fo
r the moment if you don't mind." Garrett said with his voice raised high enough to override what she was saying and also be heard over the pounding of undead flesh on the outside of the shelter door.

  Emily whirled her head towards him as if it was on a swivel, her mouth still open as the next string of obscenities and belittlements towards her husband froze in place with the bewilderment that a stranger in her own house would have the balls to talk to her like that. For a second or two she appeared lost for words as she just studied Garrett and sized him up like a matador staring down a bull he was about to do battle with.

  "Excuse me, sir." That last part was spit out with no attempt at respect but instead it was her first shot across his bow letting him know that she was not impressed with him.

  "You are a guest in my home. I would appreciate it if you would consider that before you raise your voice at me again." She spit that out with a venom that she made no attempt to hide. Without waiting for his reply she turned back around and with a renewed vigor started right back in on her husband about bringing rude and disrespectful people into her home.

  Garrett was about to take a step towards the woman and confront her further when the banging against the door reached an even more fevered pitch and he felt his attention was better served standing ready in case they suddenly found themselves with a flood of zombies forcing their way through another broken door. Miranda on the other hand felt no such restraint. She felt a surge of adrenaline welling up inside her along with an added dose of anger towards what she had just witnessed between Emily and Garrett. Balling her fists tight along her sides she stepped in between Doug and his wife and started right in on her.

  "You ungrateful fat bitch! Do you have a clue what all of us just went through outside? Do you have even the slightest hint of understanding about what is going on out there?" She yelled in the woman's face while gesturing towards one of the small half-moon shaped windows providing the sole source of illumination into the room. "That guest in your home that you just rudely dismissed like some piece of shit on the bottom of your shoe saved your husband’s life and has saved all of our lives several times over already. He is now standing by that door ready to do the same thing for you and all you can do is bitch and complain at your husband for not bringing you another box of fucking Twinkies. What the hell is wrong with you?!"

  Emily bristled at the unexpected tongue lashing from what she had thought to a be nothing more than a small and demure young lady who lacked the guts to actually get up in her face and suddenly explode at her like that. "How dare you." She started.

  Miranda was not impressed and smiled slyly as she continued, "Don't even try and give me that uppity bullshit. I can spot white trash a mile away lady and you stink of it. Do you really think any of us care at this moment exactly who lives here and who is just visiting? Now, you can shut your damn mouth, sit your fat ass down and just stay the hell out of the way while the rest of us figure out a way to keep everyone alive a little while longer."

  A comeback of some type was just about to reach the woman's lips when she took closer note of the steely determination in Miranda's eyes and realized that the smaller woman was not about to back down. She had also not missed the butt of a pistol sticking out from the front of her pants. Even though Miranda had not made a direct threat with the weapon or otherwise, Emily knew that if she opened her mouth again there was a good chance the woman standing in front of her would have little trouble in closing it for her. She took two steps backward and then turned to her husband, changing tactics she went for the wounded wife role in an attempt to win Doug over to her side.

  "Douglas, did you hear how this woman just spoke to me." Actual tears were running down her cheeks as she spoke. Miranda was sure that Emily was well versed in turning on the water works when she felt they were needed.

  Miranda thought about interjecting further on Doug's behalf, the man had already been through enough, the last thing he needed was to have all of them witness him cower in the face of his wife. She stopped herself at the last second though when she remembered his sudden burst of courage back in the bedroom next door with his zombie neighbor. If he had turned coward at that point and not acted decisively it was likely that at least one of them would have suffered bites from the woman zombie. The apocalypse may have caused a great deal of harm throughout the world, but for people like Doug it also gave them a chance to find an inner courage that they were never aware they had. Miranda had seen that with him once already and she was now seeing another slight glimmer in his eyes that told her he was digging down deep into himself and pulling it back to the surface again. His cheeks grew dark red and a vein began throbbing at the edge of his hairline, Miranda recognized the signs of a growing explosion and was more than happy to step back out of the way and let Doug deal with his wife.

  Keeping his voice low but doing little to disguise the anger and disgust he was feeling, Doug started in on her, "Emily, she told you to shut up and sit your fat ass down. I suggest you do exactly that." gesturing towards Miranda he continued, "She’s right, all of us just risked our lives outside. You have no idea what the hell is really going on do you? It might as well be the end of the damn world and you still want to carry on with your bitching and whining and..." he turned towards Miranda, "what did you call it?"

  Miranda stepped right up, "that would be uppity bullshit."

  "Yes, exactly, thank you.” turning back to his wife he continued, "and all your uppity bullshit. All of us could be dead in the next few minutes, hours or days. Your only contribution to date has been to finish the last bit of food we had and then back up the goddamn toilet with your horseshit." He pointed towards the door, "Do you hear that banging? Do you know what is on the other side of that door? I can tell you that I have seen things more terrifying out there in the last hour than anything you can possibly say or do to me ever again. Now, one last time SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP."

  The tears that had been running down her cheeks stopped right on cue. Her contempt and anger at being disrespected in her own home was suddenly forgotten as she glanced from her husband to the others in the room with her, all eyes were on her. She suddenly realized that she was the stranger in the room, she didn't even recognize her own husband all of a sudden. He had never stood his ground like that with her, her direct and even sometimes veiled threats about leaving him penniless if he ever crossed the line suddenly had absolutely no meaning or power. It was not just his words and tone of voice that got her thinking. It was his entire demeanor, his poise and the expression on his face that made it clear he was on the verge of changing from a weak and timid man into someone who had stared death in the face and would no longer be intimidated by anything less ever again. She looked from face to face and saw the same look in each of the eyes staring back at her. Everyone in that room with her would just as soon put a bullet in her head and leave her for dead if that is what it took to keep her quiet and out of their way. Without another word she timidly turned around towards the couch, walked silently across the room and sat down facing away from everyone so her next round of very real tears would not be so obvious.

  Calvin inched a little closer to Garret, leaned over and whispered, "The little guy might actually have a pair of balls after all."

  Garrett didn't reply, instead he looked over towards the door again and watched for a few moments as it continued to shudder against the ongoing assault from the other side. He didn't think the zombies outside that door were going to be giving up on them anytime soon and it was important to learn a little bit more about the construction of this room.

  "Keep on post here, while they are still banging on the door one of us should be ready at all times." Garrett said.

  Calvin glanced back over his shoulder at the others in the room, he noted that Miranda and Doug seemed to be having a whispered conversation in the far corner of the room while Doug's wife sat on the couch with her back turned towards everyone. From the subtle up and down motion of her shoulders he was sure that Emily was
crying but also trying to be discreet about it. He felt no pity for the woman. Having witnessed the exchange between her and Doug and considering what they had all gone through just to get inside this room alive, she had a lot to learn about just how things were going to be from here on out. He was glad that Doug had taken that first step towards actually being a survivor and not a victim. From what he saw of how Doug handled himself outside, he didn't think the man would ever be a great asset in a fight. But he just might be the type of ally that could help them in other ways yet to be seen, Calvin was starting to like the guy.