As Cold As The Dead

by R. M. Smith

  Wendy asked, “Dad?”

  Roger Lewis leaned forward in the chair. He had an unshaven beard and wore a stocking cap and a heavy coat. He reached for a shotgun in his lap.

  Shutting the door behind him, Doc pulled out his crowbar.

  Wendy said casually, “You’re here.”

  Her Dad answered, “I am.”

  “I came looking for you,” Wendy said standing in front of him with her hands in her pockets. The two of them didn’t hug.

  Doc let his crowbar drop back down into his loop. Patiently, he waited.

  Looking around, spotting Doc and me, Roger asked, “Who are these people with you?”

  Wendy said, “Just some people I met coming up here.”

  Shuffling around in his chair, Roger asked, “Do you know where Lisa is?”

  “Yea. She’s dead,” Wendy said plainly.

  “Oh no, not her too.” Roger began to weep.

  Wendy reached for his hand but he didn’t accept. She said, “I did everything I could to find you, Dad.”

  Roger wiped his eyes. Straightening up in the chair he said, “You found me now. I’m the last one, right?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  Roger said, “Listen Wendy, I’m sorry.”

  I asked, “Sorry for what?”

  Roger didn’t answer.

  Wendy stared at him. She stepped closer to him, quickly pulled Lisa’s switchblade out of her pocket, and savagely stabbed him in the right eye. She screamed, “I found you, you asshole!”

  Roger’s body jerked caused him to pull the trigger on the shotgun. The bottom of Wendy’s coat puffed out when the bullet passed by her. The blanket covered window to our left shattered. Cold air funneled in.

  Wendy stepped back, unruffled. Blood ran down Roger’s face in spurts. He tried to speak but couldn’t. Only gurgling sounds came out of his mouth. He let go of the shotgun. It fell to the floor next to the recliner. Roger reached for her, his fingers working and then his arm dropped into his lap.

  I was stunned. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. My mouth hung open.

  Wendy stood staring down at her father. She pocketed her switchblade.

  “Just leave her be for now,” Doc said softly.

  I gave Doc an incredulous look. “What?”

  He simply shook his head at me.

  After a moment Wendy sat down on the hassock next to her Dad’s feet. She scooted over and his feet clunked to the floor. She didn’t blink. She didn’t cry. She whispered, “I found him. I killed him. I killed them both.”

  Doc stepped past Wendy and her Dad and sat down on the sofa. I slowly sat down at the kitchen table. None of us spoke. Her Dad’s eye continued oozing blood. The blood covered his coat and the seat of the recliner. It dripped on the carpet below.

  Behind me the wind blew the blankets covering the shattered window in and out. The room got colder and colder.

  I couldn’t believe Wendy killed him. Why would she do it? It seemed so unlike her. Why kill her Dad when all she wanted to do was get to her parents place in the first place? I didn’t get it.

  Unless…

  She only wanted to find him just so she could kill him. But why? What had he done to make her want to kill him?

  And where was her Mom? Why wasn’t she here? Where did she go?

  Wendy stared into the fireplace. The small ember of fire was going out. It popped. She whispered leaving long empty spaces of silence between her sentences.

  “I had a boyfriend. Dwight. He liked me. He genuinely really and truly liked me. We went out for three months. I met him one day at school. He was the father of one of my students. We hit it off right away. He asked me out. Took me to a movie. And for ice cream. He was a sweet man. He told me I was pretty. Except I knew it was a lie. No one thinks I’m pretty. I’m not attractive. I have a horse face. That’s why they call me Whinny because I whinny like a horse. Everyone calls me that. My Dad. My Mom. Lisa. They’ve called me Whinny as long as I can remember. I don’t know who started it. Whinny this. Whinny that. When I was little my Dad told me to stop being a retard and stop whinnying when I was whining.” She took in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. “I did my best to ignore it but it drilled into me anytime anyone called me Whinny. I heard it in my dreams. I heard it when people called me Wendy.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Growing older, I taught myself to ignore it. I laughed it off telling myself that people called me Whinny because they didn’t know how to say Wendy.” She laughed through her tears. “Stupid people. Don’t know how to pronounce my name. Shame on them.” She shook her head and wiped her nose. “And then came high school graduation. I was elected class valedictorian. I gave a speech in front of my whole class and all of the gathered families who were there for graduation. After I got done, I received a standing ovation. My parents were there. And Lisa. They started yelling ‘Good job Whinny! Whinny, Whinny, good job Whinny.’ Pretty soon the whole auditorium was chanting it. Clapping. Laughing. Making fun of me. Someone held up a banner with a horse face drawn on it. Underneath it read ‘Good job Whinny you retard’.” She sighed. “It made me so mad. I wanted to kill them. Kill them all.

  “I went off to college in Minneapolis. Being away from my family eased my mind. No one called me Whinny anymore. I earned my teaching scholarship but didn’t invite anyone to my graduation. I started teaching back in St. Cloud, avoiding my parents and doing my best to teach third grade…and then I met Dwight.

  “I never should have introduced him to my parents; but it’s a human condition, right? Every young man or woman wants to introduce a special someone to their parents. We want their approval even if we don’t need it.

  “I introduced Dwight to my folks. They were friendly enough, asking questions, where he worked, where he lived, you know. Mom made dinner. After, I had to use the restroom. While I was in there, my parents told Dwight to call me Whinny; because of my horse face. They told him I was slightly retarded and should try and find a better prettier girl to be with. They didn’t want to have retarded horse face grandchildren.”

  She stared into the dying fire.

  “Dwight took me home. He told me he didn’t want to see me anymore. When he left, I got into my car, drove over to my parent’s house and killed my Mom. I strangled her with her panty hose. Dad had already left. I didn’t know where he went but I figured he was either at his shop in town or he had gone back to St. Paul to watch football at his friend Cory’s house.

  “I went to his shop but he wasn’t there so I drove to St. Paul. On the way there, Gale called me.”

  “Gale?” Doc asked quietly.

  “A friend,” she said. “She got killed by zombies at Ben’s house.”

  Doc nodded.

  And Aunt Brenda, I thought morbidly.

  “Gale and some friends were going bar hopping. Wanted to know if I wanted to come along. At first I said no, but then I thought it would be a good alibi. ‘Oh I was out drinking with my friends when my mother was murdered, officer. Gale can vouch for me.’ I ended up getting drunk and stayed the night at Gale’s house. Next day, the blizzard hit and the radio talked about zombies at the mall. We didn’t believe it, thought it was all a joke. It was snowing so hard we decided to stay at her place. Next day, Lisa calls and asks if we’re ok. She asked, ‘Are you ok Whinny?’ Oh it pissed me off. I told her I was scared and asked if she could come pick me up; I didn’t want to drive in the snow. She said ok and said she had called a guy who was in the National Guard who might know a safe place to go.

  “After we met you, Jon,” she said finally looking away from the dead fire, “I suggested coming up here to the lake in hopes that my Dad would be here. I knew we’d have to go through St. Cloud to get here. I made plans to convince Lisa to go through town on the way but as it happened, her Jeep was out of gas so we had to stop there anyway. I knew she would want to stop at his shop.” With no remorse she said, “Now, everyone who belittled me and called me names and ruined a relationship that I t
hought might lead to something great is dead; and I’m going to get away with it. Fuck those people.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I was simply blown away. I slowly shook my head.

  She turned to look at both of us. “You guys, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m not going to hurt you. I have no vendetta against you. You protected me. You stayed by side.”

  Doc said, “I know you won’t hurt us, Wendy.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You know? How do you know she won’t hurt us? Did she tell you she planned to kill her parents? How do you know she won’t kill us Doc?” I stood up. “She’s a murderer! She killed both of her parents in cold blood!”

  Doc said, “If her Dad was here, I knew this was going to happen. Wendy told Whittridge all about this while you and Ben were out cold in the hospital.”

  “So you went along with it?” I nearly screamed. “How could you do that?”

  “Doc knows how I feel, Jon,” Wendy said turning to me. “He knows my parents ruined my life.”

  I asked, “Ruined it? Well don’t you think you ruined their lives now?”

  “I don’t care,” she said.

  “Jesus Christ. I thought we were coming here to get away from the zombies; not to kill your Dad!”

  “It just kind of ended up that way,” Wendy said with no remorse looking back at the dying fire. “And I’m glad it did.”

  I laughed under my breath. “What other plans do you hope end up that way? Jesus. Do you hope Doc and I don’t take too much of the warmth in here? Are you going to kill us if we do?”

  She laughed through her nose. “No.”

  I stared at her.

  She said, “Jon, please. I won’t hurt you. You’ve been protecting me this whole time. I really appreciate it and everything you’ve done. I’m ok now, really.”

  “Lisa protected you, too,” I said. “Was her death as meaningless to you? Did you only use her to get here?”

  “Pretty much,” Wendy said.

  “I don’t like this,” I said. “It’s not right.”

  “It’s no different than Ben planning to kill his Dad,” Doc said.

  “No, that’s different,” I said. “And how do you know about that?”

  Doc said, “Ben told Whittridge everything just like Wendy did.”

  “Well I didn’t spill my guts about shit,” I said. “He didn’t scare me.”

  Doc said, “You told him about Rainey.”

  “Well he kept bopping me on the side of the head with his gun.”

  “I was scared too,” Wendy said.

  “You screamed,” Doc said to her. “You screamed that you wanted to kill him. I thought you meant Whittridge. After a while I realized you were talking about your Dad.”

  “I was in and out of consciousness,” Wendy said. “But it was the truth. I wanted to kill him.”

  I had my head down. I was so cold.

  Wendy asked, “What’s wrong, Jon?”

  “What’s wrong?” I shook my head. “I never imagined you as a killer.”

  “I never wanted to be one,” she said. “But just think how you would have felt if someone told a whole room of people you worked with about your… infatuation with Rainey.”

  “I would have been pissed,” I said. “But I wouldn’t want to kill them over it.”

  “You were pretty pissed at Ben,” she said.

  “Yeah but I didn’t want to kill him.”

  Doc said, “Ben wanted to kill his Dad because he hated him and wanted to kill him for a long time for using the belt on him.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “Are you mad at me for wanting to kill my parents?” Wendy asked.

  “No. I’m not mad at you,” I said. “I’m more shocked and confused. You, a killer? It doesn’t fit your personality. It’s not like you at all!”

  “I am though,” Wendy said. “Do you forgive me?”

  “I’m not the person you need to ask for forgiveness.”

  She nodded. “What about you, Doc?”

  “It’s your life. Wendy. Do what you want to do. You’re an adult. Make your own choices.”

  “Like Ben did,” she added.

  “Yes. We’ve all had tough choices. We’re not innocent,” Doc said. “I made the choice to let my wife go. I could have followed her. I could have told her not to leave, but I didn’t…so in a sense I killed her; and I have to live with that the rest of my life.”

  “I chose to kill my Mom and Dad and I’ll have to live with that the rest of my life,” Wendy said.

  I sat back down. The room was getting colder and colder.

  Later Wendy said, “You guys there’s another fireplace downstairs. You can go down there and light a fire. There’s some firewood outside the back door.”

  I asked, “Why what are you going to do?”

  She answered, “I’m going to stay up here a little longer. I need some time.”

  “Ok,” Doc said, “We’ll get a fire started.”

  An hour later Wendy came downstairs and showed us the freezer where her Dad kept his frozen goods. We rummaged through it. Doc found a stack of frozen hamburger patties and a sack of French fries. Hanging on the wall above the freezer were assorted cooking utensils and a spit to cook over a fire. He took it and the frozen meat out to the fireplace and set it up. He cooked the burgers. The meat cooking smelled so good. Doc and I each had one burger. He set the fries on a plate next to the heat allowing them to thaw well enough to eat. Wendy didn’t eat.

  We took turns keeping watch out the downstairs windows. We didn’t want to be surprised by zombies.

  I kept my eye on Wendy. I didn’t trust her anymore. I didn’t know if she was going to slit my throat or not.

  We all settled in closer to the fireplace. Cold air still seeped down from upstairs but the fire kept us warm.

  Wendy didn’t say anything else about her Dad. No one did. His corpse was left sitting upstairs in the recliner.

  The smell of cooking meat attracted the zombies. Slowly approaching the house from the lake and from the deep woods, their feet covered in frozen ice, they tracked through the snow. Wendy noticed them first. She went upstairs to gather weapons out of her Dad’s bedroom closet. By the time she got back, the downstairs porch was full of zombies.

  My shotgun was still in the truck in the front seat. I don’t know why I didn’t bring it inside when we first came in.

  “Go back upstairs,” Doc told us. He pulled his crowbar out of its loop. “I’ll take care of these down here.”

  “I’m going to help,” I said.

  “No, go back up.”

  I turned around, grabbed Wendy by the hand and pulled her back up the stairs with me. We waited on the top step. She pulled out her switchblade.

  Doc opened the back door. Stepping outside he swung at the zombies. When he hit them it sounded like ice breaking. He grunted and swung, heaving his weight around at them. He stepped out into the snow swinging. The door shut behind him. He leaned against it slamming more heads.

  Wendy and I heard a low grunt. Roger had turned into a zombie. He leaned over us while we sat on the stairs. He reached down and grabbed Wendy around the neck. He lifted her off her feet. With Wendy screaming, her Dad leaned in and took a deep bite out of her neck.

  How can he be a zombie? I screamed at myself. Wendy stabbed him in the eye!

  I ran back downstairs. I needed a weapon! I pulled the blankets back on the windows to see Doc fighting, swinging. The zombies were covered in ice. Their clothing was frozen to their bodies. One woman had long hair covered in icicles. She only wore a t-shirt and short pants. The skin on her arms and legs had turned black from frostbite.

  She bit Doc on the shoulder.

  Doc yelled in pain, shoving the woman onto her back and crushing her head with his foot. Two other zombies lurched in grabbing him. He shrugged them off and slammed their heads with the crowbar.

  A zombie slammed through the window. Glass rained down on me. The cold rushed in. The zo
mbie’s arm was long, stretching, reaching for me, feeling for me.

  Wendy’s dead body came tumbling down the stairs. Her neck was covered in blood. Roger followed.

  More zombies approached from the lake’s edge. Were they coming up out of the water? Were they people who had drowned in the lake and were now rising from the dead, rising from the deep depths?

  A moss covered shipping container broke through the frozen lake. It bobbed on the icy water. Several others broke through. Zombies climbed up on them.

  Doc continued to swing his crowbar even though the back side of his coat was now covered in blood.

  More zombies climbed up out of the lake. These were frozen. They lumbered through the snow, their skin and clothing crackling.

  A girl pawed up out of the water. She had a deep bite in the side of her neck.

  Rainey?

  How could it be Rainey?

  She was long gone now. Ben had shot her!

  I woke up.

  God. A dream. Holy shit.

  Doc slept nearby on a sofa sleeper. Wendy slept in a chair close to the fireplace. I sat in a recliner. We all were covered under mounds of blankets.

  The fire popped quietly. The wood sizzled.

  Another pop.

  I closed my eyes.

  Just a dream.

  Shit!

  For three days we stayed in the cabin. It got warmer during the day. Roger began to smell. Doc and I dragged him out of the house and leaned him against a wall inside the fish house. I kept thinking Roger was going to attack us when we drug him through the snow…but he didn’t. Wendy moved the recliner into his bedroom and shut the door. The stained carpet remained.

  Doc used some old paneling that had been shoved behind the washer and dryer downstairs to cover the broken window upstairs.

  We ate all of the dry goods out of the cabinets in the kitchen. The refrigerator had been stocked full of beer and bottled water.

  Doc cooked burgers and fish over the fire downstairs. We drank all of the bottled water. We were going to be in need of food if we stayed in the cabin much longer.

  We didn’t talk much. There wasn’t a lot to say. I kept thinking about California and wondering if zombies were there too; and of course I had my doubts about Wendy. I didn’t want to be around her. If a chance came up, I was thinking about asking Doc if we could leave.