by J. Okuly
“The world has gone bonkers.” Swagger shook his head. “Last week I was out with me best girl and now I'm dealing with flesh-eating monsters and stray kids.”
Breanna dipped her gaze and set her cookie down on the plate.
Rebecca glared at Swagger. Something told me their relationship was circling the drain.
After breakfast, Mark loaded my gun and reminded me about basic gun rules. “Since a brain hit is the only thing that can stop them, always aim for the head. Don't waste bullets on anything else.”
And so armed with guns and knives and Breanna's home address, we walked out the front door.
Chapter 11
Mark turned to me. “Stay on the sidewalk.”
“Why?”
“I planted land-mines. I realized we'll need them if the fence doesn't hold.”
“Where in the world did you get land-mines? Let me guess. Home Depot?”
“Nope. I have a buddy in the National Guard. He hooked me up for a price.”
“We're not going to survive this, are we? I mean we as in humans.”
“Of course, we will. People survived World War Two even though millions died. Mankind will go on.”
At that moment I wished I had his confidence in my own abilities. Just because a chicken has wings doesn't mean it can fly. Just because I had a gun in my hand … You get the picture.
When Mark opened the gate, a dozen Chompers turned their heads to stare at us. Their vacant eyes appeared to have a milky skim covering them like the extra eyelid on lizards. So far, the creatures were still not decomposing. Yet we had all witnessed the fact that they weren't breathing. Scientists speculated that they were still alive but no longer needed to breathe oxygen. Many chat rooms discussed this idea with no consensus reached. I stuck to my gut feeling that they were dead but not decomposing because of a virus … or a miracle.
Chomper bodies weren't turning zombie icky, but their clothes were taking a beating. Holes and rips appeared in their clothing, and I wondered how long it would be before the world was full of naked Chompers.
A knife thrust itself into my brain. I began to count. 1 … 2 … 3 … 4 … 5 ...
We ran across the street and cut through backyards where only a few of the monsters lurked. The pain lessened as we left the larger group on the street behind us. It seemed to hurt more if the creatures massed together. As we all knew, there was strength in numbers. The psychic pain was much stronger when they were together as opposed to a single creature.
We found Breanna's house and I saw that the front door stood open. We walked up the steps and hesitated on the porch.
“We don't want to draw those things to us,” said Mark. “So let's not use our guns unless we have no other choice.”
He unsheathed his knife and so I did the same.
My hand trembled. “I can't kill another human.”
“It might come to that.” He looked at me and his eyes held concern. “Stay close and we'll get in and get out without any problems.”
He opened the door to a dark and quiet house, and I followed him as near as I could without actually riding on his back.
I heard a faint shuffling sound and held my breath. Mark held up a hand and we both stopped. He motioned for me to continue and we walked past the living room heading toward the back of the house.
A Chomper stepped out of the kitchen and a jagged shard of agony sliced into my brain. Mark pushed the creature away from us but the Chomper grabbed his arm and held on. Mark finally broke the hold it had on him and knocked it to the floor. It attempted to stand but by that time we had run down a hallway and into the master bedroom. The bed was unmade and the blankets were on the floor. The room appeared to be empty.
Mark spoke in a hushed tone. “Mrs. Keith, are you in here?
There was no response so after a cursory check of the room, we were in the hallway again. We checked the hall bath but as we left that room, we ran into the kitchen Chomper again. The creature grabbed for Mark and I screamed. I controlled my breathing and started counting as Mark punched the Chomper in the face. It flew against the wall and once again fell to the floor. As we moved past it, it grabbed my ankle in a vice-like grip.
“Oh God!” I screamed and started kicking him in the face with all my strength. I broke away and we hurried to the next room. This was a small bedroom with a canopy bed covered in dolls and stuffed animals. The bed was pristine. I assumed Breanna had been sleeping with her mom since the crisis began rather than in her own bed. I grabbed a handful of clothes from the closet and held the small plastic hangers against my chest. Then we were out in the hallway again. As we passed the Chomper who was once again struggling to stand up, I heard a noise from above.
“There's a sound up there,” I whispered. “But there's no second story to this house.”
Mark looked up and saw the pull string for the attic stairs. He grabbed the string but didn't pull it.
The Chomper finally stood and ambled toward us.
“What are you doing?” I said.
When the Chomper was very close, Mark pulled the string. The stairs came crashing down and hit the monster in the face. The force threw him across the hall and this time he was down for the count.
“You knocked him out!” I said.
“No. I killed him.”
The Chomper's skull was smashed in. A huge indentation in his forehead made his head look like a flat tire. His eyes were open but he no longer attempted to move.
Mark looked around. “We need to hurry before more show up.”
“Mrs. Keith,” he called when we reached the top of the stairs and faced a dark maw. “Are you up here?”
I heard a soft whimper and knew we had found Breanna's mom.
She huddled in the corner. I couldn't begin to imagine how frightened she must have been when she pushed her daughter out the window only to find herself unable to escape.
“My daughter!” she cried. “My daughter, my daughter!”
“If her name is Breanna, she's at our house,” I said. “And she's fine.”
Her eyes filled with hope as tears flowed down her cheeks. “Are you sure she's okay?”
“She's around the corner at our house,” said Mark. “She's waiting for you so let's go.”
When we reached the bottom of the steps, the male Chomper still lay where he had fallen. But now he had company.
Chapter 12
The monsters had sniffed us out and now they stood between us and the front door.
“The back door,” said Mark.
I knew we had closed the front door when we entered the house. Either the back door had been wide open or the Chompers had figured out how to use a doorknob.
Mrs. Keith seemed in shock and moved about as slow as a snail traveling through peanut butter.
“Please,” I said. “You need to move faster.”
When we reached the kitchen, there were two more Chompers. Our escape was blocked and my head began to pound. Mrs. Keith froze in mid-stride and I couldn't get her to move.
“No, no!” I cried. “You need to count.”
“Count?”
“1...2...3...4...5....” I held her face between my hands and forced her to look at me as I counted out loud.
She finally understood and counted with me. Her body broke free of the paralysis and we rushed toward the back door. One of the Chompers grabbed Mark's arm. Mark stabbed his knife into the monster's hand and pinned it to the kitchen table. The creature looked confused as it struggled to escape, but didn't appear to be in pain.
They must be deader than a door nail I thought. If this guy wasn't dead, he would be hollering in pain from here to heaven.
Mark crashed into me because I lost my focus and stopped counting.
“25, 26, 27, 28,” said Mrs. Keith and I re-focused on my counting. We pushed aside the remaining Chompers who blocked the back door. I held my knife in front of me and stabbed at anything that tried to grab me. I imagined Chompers breathing down my neck and I al
most lost my focus again. I pictured them attacking me from behind and taking a huge chunk out of my throat. Finally we made it to the door and then we were on the back porch and then running down the steps. I had Mrs. Keith in a head lock as I dragged her down the street toward safety.
“110, 111, 112, 113....”
“You can stop now,” Mark said. I looked around and realized we were inside our own house. We were safe again. Breanna jumped off the sofa and threw herself into her mother's arms. Both of them were crying, Rebecca was crying, Bonnie was crying, I was crying. Even Kitty's eyes were moist, and she was the one who never shed a tear even when she watched the saddest movies.
I went to the kitchen and microwaved some food for Mrs. Keith. She hadn't eaten since yesterday, being trapped in the attic and all.
“I'm so sorry I pushed you out the window,” Mrs. Keith cried as Rebecca patted her shoulder and handed her a tissue. “I was right behind you but then I got trapped by that Chomper. I finally ran down the hall and managed to get the attic stairs down but then he trapped me up there.”
She hugged Breanna against her chest. “All night long I worried about my baby.”
Breanna giggled. “Mommy, you're crushing me.”
Her mother relaxed her arms. “And I felt so guilty. I imagined the worst and knew it was my fault.”
She started to cry again and Swagger stood up and left the room.
Rebecca frowned as she watched him. “He doesn't do emotional scenes.”
“Don't apologize for him,” said Kitty. “He's responsible for his own behavior.”
Rebecca lowered her gaze. “I wasn't apologizing; I was explaining.”
“I made some cookies,” said Bonnie. She brought a platter of her scrumptious chocolate chip cookies to the table and we tore into them. We drank chocolate milk and ate until we were drowsy and ready for a nap. Mark didn't join us. His military training wouldn't allow him to slack off in vigilance. He declined the cookies and the chocolate milk and kept a lookout on both the front and back yards.
“It's my watch next,” said Bonnie. “I need a cat nap. Can you wake me in a few minutes?”
Mark said he would and then he walked outside to check the fence.
For some reason the room felt empty after he had gone even though it was full of people. I opened the back door and ran after him.
“Hey stranger,” he said when he saw me approaching.
“Hi.” I felt shy and tongue-tied. “I wanted to thank you for helping me find Breanna's mom. I couldn't have done it without you.”
“Sure you could have.”
I smiled. “You have more faith in me than I have in myself.”
“It's part of the job.”
“What job?”
“The job I've given myself … to protect you and your friends.”
I stared at him at surprise. Finally, I said, “We all appreciate you being here.”
He grinned. “Except for Swagger.”
I laughed. “Except for Swagger.”
Our eyes locked and held. I couldn't tear my gaze from his.
Finally, he said, “I want to show you where the land-mines are, the exact location of each one. I found some oversized load flags at an abandoned construction site. I'm going to drape the mines and make sure everyone knows where they are.”
The mines were easy to spot once I knew what to look for. The front yard resembled a pet cemetery. Mounds of dirt poked from the ground like the graves of small animals. As I watched him from the safety of the sidewalk, Mark draped each mound with a red flag.
“There are no mines in the backyard,” he said. “Because of Nova, Breanna, and the garden.”
“You think of everything, don't you?”
“Not everything but I try.” He took a step toward me and I lifted my gaze to his. Why in the world had I thought he was a geeky moron when I first met him?
He moved closer and I thought he might kiss me as we stood facing each other on the sidewalk. I tilted my head and closed my eyes.
“Is it time for me to get up?” Bonnie yelled from the house and her loud country twang shocked me into jumping away from him. I lost my balance and almost fell to the ground.
“Whoa!” Mark caught me and stood me on the sidewalk. “You almost stepped on that Easter Egg!”
“What Easter Egg?” My mind felt woozy and stuffed with cotton as the scent of his body confused my senses.
“That land-mine.” He pointed to a mound draped in red which was near my feet. “That one is definitely too close to the sidewalk.”
Later Mark exploded the mine by throwing a large rock on top of it. He said this was for our own protection. I knew it was to prevent some clumsy person (who wasn't paying attention because her mind was focused on a hot man) from veering off the sidewalk and blundering into certain death.
Chapter 13
As the days passed, I adopted a military mentality. I guess I could say Mark influenced me. Bonnie called us a tribe which I suppose we resembled, but I saw us more as a platoon. The fight to protect our food, water, and shelter made us grow as close as soldiers on the battlefield. We depended on each other for our very survival. Sometimes it also drove a wedge between us. Let's face it. Being around each other 24/7 made us sick of the sight of each other. We were prisoners. We couldn't move around the city without fear, socialize with different people, or use our abilities to work or attend school.
We all learned how to use a gun except for Breanna. Mark practiced his knife skills on a watermelon and showed us how to stab a Chomper in the head. Then we ate the watermelon so it wasn't a waste of food. Countless videos on YouTube proved that destroying the Chomper brain killed them for good and they didn't return from the dead. At least in this one area the creatures behaved the way I thought a proper zombie should behave. If movies had taught me anything, it was the many rules needed for dealing with zombies. So far, the Chompers had broken a lot of these rules. We had to adapt by making up the rules as we went. There was no official rule book in this game of life and death.
Breanna and her mom decided it was safer to stay with us in our fortified house rather than to live alone in theirs. Mrs Keith (we found out her name was Dharma) was a chef . She and Bonnie became BFF's on the spot since they both loved to cook. We already ate delicious food because of Bonnie's home cooking, but now we ate gourmet meals as well. The garden in the backyard and the container garden on the patio flourished with fruits, vegetables and herbs.
There were few people living on our street. The adjoining neighborhoods were almost deserted. Many people had fled when the crisis started, but there were still some holdouts. We shared the backyard fence with a retired couple. The Olsons were snowbirds who had fled to Texas to escape the frigid Minnesota winters. Bonnie was desperate for fresh human contact so she made friends with Mrs. Olson. They spoke to each other through the fence while Bonnie worked in the garden. It turned out Mrs. Olson was a wiz at canning fruits and vegetables and Bonnie traded extra food with her. We got strawberry jelly and peach preserves for our breakfast toast. Whenever she baked cookies or bread, Bonnie shut down the electric fence. Then she got out the extra-long ladder and climbed the fence with a delicious treat for the older couple. Mrs. Olson enjoyed gossiping so she phoned Bonnie each day with the latest rumors about the crisis. She informed us that people had taken refuge at the Baptist Church which was only a few blocks from our house.
“If we're ever overrun,” Mrs. Olson told us on the speaker phone, “our backup plan is to head for that church tout suite.”
“Huh?” said Swagger. “What does that mean?”
“It means as fast as they can get to the church,” said Kitty.
“That sounds like a made-up word,” said Swagger. “I've never heard it before.”
“We could fill a dictionary with all the words you've never heard,” she said..
“What's that supposed to mean?”
Kitty threw up her arms.” Madre de Dios, figure it out why don't you?”
Mark agreed that the church was a good back-up plan. But he also had his own emergency plans in place. He discovered the abandoned construction site had electricity provided the power grid held. He also had another contingency plan, but this one he considered a last resort.
“As I mentioned before, I know a survivalist who lives out in the country,” he told us. “His group would probably take us in but … ”
“But what?” I said not liking the sound of this.
“I trust him up to a point, but I don't know his people and we would have to follow their rules. And what happens if we don't like their rules?”
I thought about that for a moment. I liked making our own rules and voting on the important stuff. I thought there was a snowball's chance in Hell that we would fit in with a survivalist militia.
“I don't like the sound of that,” said Kitty.
“In any case,” he said with a shrug, “we need to have something in mind in case we need to escape this house.”
We had it better than most people. Many people had died at the hands of the Chompers. But according to the news and the internet, there was a growing trend toward human on human violence. As if the Chompers, weren't bad enough, we couldn't even trust our own species. Of course, it was understandable and not surprising. As food became scarce and humans fought to stay alive, the haves became victim to the have-nots.
We were one of the haves and I wondered each day if our fortress of security could continue to exist.
It wouldn't.
Chapter 14
We voted to ration our supplies. We had enough food to last several months. but everyone worried about the future. The longer we stretched our rations, the longer we postponed a trip into hostile Chomper territory. The garden produced food which was a blessing, but once winter arrived we would only be able to grow a few plants indoors.