Time of Death Book 2: Asylum (A Zombie Novel)

by Shana Festa

  Directly in front of us was a hallway, still dark, but not as dark as the windowless utility room. Somewhere to the left was a light source. The boys nodded to each other and trudged forward. Jake disappeared to the right and Vinny to the left. Meg and I inched forward to the door's threshold and held our breaths waiting for something to happen. A hand appeared in the opening and waved us forward as Jake passed by. I looked both ways into the hallway; to the right was a dark office. Slivers of light coming through the hurricane shutters made patterns across the carpet, and I saw little dust particles floating in the air when it passed through the light.

  To our left, the hallway opened into the great room. The kitchen, dining area, and family room were deserted. The only indication anyone had been there was a smudge of old blood on the corner of the kitchen counter.

  The acrid stench of decay permeated the stagnant air, immediately raising my hackles and putting me on the defensive. I knew the others smelled it, too, because their postures were tense and their eyes darted around the interior searching for threats.

  The house was smaller than I expected from the high-end community, and I suspected it was one of the last remaining original homes. When property values began rising in Cape Coral back in the nineties, Cape Harbour was considered the best location in town due to its proximity to the ocean. There were no locks or canals to navigate through to get to open water. The developer had a hefty wallet and bought out most of the residents, tearing down the existing homes and building a luxury community. There had been only a few hold-outs who refused to sell, and their small homes stood out around the surrounding McMansions.

  I was thankful for its small square footage, because it meant fewer places for something to hide, and less space to clear. Within a few minutes we had checked the great room, bathroom, and two guest rooms, and we were huddled in front of the final door, listening for some hint as to what lay beyond. We heard only a buzzing sound. This close to the door, the scent of death was stifling, and my eyes burned and watered in response.

  Jake tried the knob, it turned freely, and the door opened inward without sound. Like a strong gust of wind, the nauseatingly pungent odor rushed through the opening and into our faces, followed by a thick cloud of flies that explained the buzzing. I had to turn away, fighting the urge to vomit, knowing if any of us made a sound, we would be greeted by nightmares.

  On the floor, directly in our path, was the festering corpse of a large dog. Tufts of furry flesh surrounded the form and maggots writhed, feeding on the little remaining bits of shriveled flesh that clung to the mangled bones.

  The entire area was stained with blood and feces, making the beige color of the carpet unrecognizable until farther into the room, where bloody shoes had left a zig-zag of trails. In addition to the carpet, the bottom two feet of the foyer walls were coated in blood that turned to a speckling the higher I gazed;, making it look like a faux finish.

  It was too much for Meg, and she backed out of the room, leaving me, Jake, and Vinny to continue on. At this point, we knew we weren't here to make contact with a fellow survivor, but we couldn't leave without being certain. Also, if we wanted to comfortably scavenge for supplies, the house needed to be clear.

  We pressed on, into the room, and stopped when we saw a figure silhouetted in the front window. It was clear the blood-stained form standing a few yards away from us was that of a zombie. The dog must have put up quite a fight, because the zombies arms and legs were covered in unhealed scratches and torn skin.

  The sun glinted off the bicycle helmet's reflectors, still clasped in place on its head, and answered our initial question. No survivor had signaled us.

  It wasn't the zombie itself that scared me so bad at that moment; it was the inability to penetrate its skull while it wore the helmet. The protection meant we would need to be up close and personal, adding greater risk of being bitten, to take it down.

  Jake and Vinny split and approached on either side of the undead, while I stood there like an idiot with my thumb up my ass. The zombie turned at the crunching sound of their shoes as they brought their feet down on carpet fibers made hard by dried blood. The corpse hissed in our direction. It lunged at Jake, surprising all of us with its speed. This was the fastest one I'd seen yet, not fast enough that a healthy human couldn't outrun it, but too fast for comfort in such a tight space.

  It closed the distance with its unexpected speed and was on Jake before he could parry, driving him backwards onto the carpet. Its snarling maw darted forward and bit empty air as Jake snapped his head to the side.

  "Jake!" I yelled, running forward in the same instant.

  Vinny was on top of them, pulling the zombie back by the helmet, before I reached him.

  "Hold him off me!" Jake struggled, and while Vinny held the corpse suspended in the air above him, Jake drove the screwdriver upward and through its chin, pushing it in to the hilt. The zombie struggled for only a second, then went limp, and fell, lifeless, to the carpet as Vinny threw its body off Jake.

  Jake lay still, trying to catch his breath, covered in zombie gunk and maggots that had spilled from the corpse's open sores.

  Chapter 03: Tuesday

  We gathered what supplies we could carry, using the homeowner's hockey bag to transport them. Jake and Vinny each took a handle and we set off for the boat. The trip back was uneventful; we didn't see a single zombie. After a small struggle with positioning the ramp across to the boat, we boarded and secured the ramp into its hidey-hole.

  "Oh, my God, Jake," stammered Meg. "You smell so bad."

  I had to agree, he was pretty ripe.

  "Bet you're wishing we'd filled that hot tub now, eh, bro?" quipped Vinny.

  "Suck it," Jake barked back.

  "That's what she said."

  Jake rolled his eyes, and just like that our joking had resumed. "I'm declaring this a total loss." He motioned at his shirt before carefully lifting it over his head and tossing it overboard.

  "Good call, babe," I confirmed, and headed to the bedroom to free Daphne from her solitude. "Daaaaa-phne," I called as I got closer to the door. She let loose with a series of shrill barks upon hearing my voice and stamped her tiny front paws into the rug when I opened the door.

  "Okay, that one's a freebie for me not taking you out this morning." I pointed to the pile of shit at the foot of the bed, and went in search of the dustpan to scoop that poop. Jake laughed upstairs, and she darted out of the room to find him. "I see how it is. Traitor!" I shouted to her as she sped off.

  "Hey, Meg?" I called from the base of the stairs.

  "Yeah?"

  "Come help me organize all this crap."

  The boys had been kind enough to bring the huge bag down for us, and we spent the next hour putting everything into the pantry and taking inventory of our score. The gods had answered my silent prayers, and we returned with two full cases of water. The new cases were stacked beneath the single case leftover from our original stay on the boat, giving us a total of ninety bottles.

  "We're going to have to cut back on our consumption unless we want to make continued scavenging trips," I stated. "I don't know about you, but I'd prefer not to venture off the boat unless it's absolutely necessary."

  "I agree completely." She was organizing the canned goods, taking care to line up the labels like Seth used to do. The unwelcome memory caused a pang of emotion to bubble up inside me, and my breath caught in my throat. To her credit, Meg either didn't notice or was kind enough to let it go without discussion. I busied myself with a new stack of cans and put pressure on my eyes to will them to remain dry.

  "Looking good, ladies," Jake proclaimed when he and Vinny walked into the galley. It struck me funny to see a man the size of Jake's brother toting around a tiny dog.

  "Go put a clean shirt on, Jake. It's cold."

  "Yes, mom." He relented and trudged down the hall to comply.

  Meg grunted in frustration and plopped into one of the bar stools. We all looked at her expectantly
.

  "Is this really what our life is now? Rationing food and water, living day to day, and not able to step on dry land without fear?"

  "Yeah," Vinny sighed. "Kind of sucks balls, doesn't it?"

  Jake returned, pulling a clean shirt over his head. "Major donkey balls."

  "Oh, my God, Jake." I stifled a laugh. "That has got to be the ugliest shirt I have ever seen." The offending article was some kind of Hawaiian mash-up of patterns. Each piece had been cut from a different flowered fabric, then sewn together. Five patterns in all, and not one matching color, but all of them so bright it was possible it would glow in the dark.

  "Dude, Bill Cosby called. He wants his shirt back," taunted his brother

  "No way! This thing rocks." He placed his hands on his hips and took a walk on an imaginary catwalk, swaying his hips and finishing it off with a twirl.

  Meg shook her head and brought her hand up to cover her face. "I knew there was a reason I chose to get a degree in psych. My brothers are BSC."

  "BSC?" they asked in unison.

  "Bat-shit crazy."

  Vinny protested the diagnosis, "No way. I'm the only normal one in the family."

  "Bro, you call your knife The Penetrator, there's definitely something wrong with you."

  * * *

  The afternoon warmed up and we sat on the upper deck talking about life before the outbreak. Whenever the topic began to shift toward Sanibel and the catastrophic loss we suffered, we changed the subject.

  Meg, like the rest of us, had made the conscious decision to focus on what lie ahead, and not look back. The events were still too raw for any of us to really cope, and in this new world, here today, gone tomorrow was dangerously literal.

  Jake was going over the list of our food supplies, trying to figure out what our next move should be.

  "So, if we ration the water to three bottles a day per person, we've got enough for a month. However, our food situation isn't as solid. If we cut down our intake, we can make it maybe two weeks, and that's on a four-hundred calorie diet. We'll be essentially starving ourselves."

  "Why don't we make some scavenging trips to all the nearby houses?" asked Vinny.

  "We have to assume there will be at least one zombie in each house. Even if there isn't, I'd rather err on the side of caution. Each time we leave this boat, we have a good chance of one or all of us not making it back. I'd like to minimize the risk as much as possible."

  I thought about our options. The tank was still full, since we'd refilled on Sanibel, and only traveled a short distance. "Who says we have to stay here?" I said.

  Jake looked at me with interest. "I'm intrigued. What are you thinking?"

  "Nothing specific, really. Only that we've got the freedom to move around a bit. We lost the Jet-Ski and rowboat, but who says we can't look for another? Not to mention, I wouldn't mind having a look around a bit."

  "Yeah," chimed in Meg. "Maybe we'll find someplace that doesn't reek so badly, or a gated community that's still intact. The world is our oyster, well, at least until we run out of gas, that is."

  Moments ago, Meg and I were discussing how we didn't want to leave the boat unless we had to. Now we were thinking differently. We were women, after all, and we reserved the right to change our minds as often as we like.

  Daphne stood on the seat next to me and let loose with a growl. The fur on her back was raised and she looked toward the dock. We were on our feet in an instant and turned to see what was going on.

  "Shit!" swore Jake, running for the helm. "Get the poles!"

  A muffled bump and scrape sounded as the boat butted up to the dock. My eyes widened with fear and disbelief when I leaned over to see three undead close enough to step onto the lower deck. Vinny, Meg, and I grabbed our poles and flew down the stairs to push them back while Jake got the boat fired up and out of the danger zone.

  "What the fuck happened?" shouted Vinny as we reached the bottom.

  There was no time to answer, because two of the zombies had found their way onto the deck and the third was right behind them. We came out of the stairwell in between them. Meg and I struggled with the long poles to push the closest one to the edge and at the same time block the opening with its body so the other couldn't board.

  That left Vinny cut off behind us, dealing with the one that had traveled farther on deck. The end of Meg's pole was a narrow point, not sharp enough to do any damage to living tissue, but when it pressed into the dead flesh of the zombie it slid through like butter. It made a popping sound, like a hardcover book slamming shut, as the point protruded from the zombie's back. While the zombie continued forward, the pole slid through its torso and rustled like two pieces of paper rubbing together.

  I renewed my efforts to drive it backwards with the net at the end of my pole, regaining a few precious steps at a time, until it finally reached the edge of the decking and lost its footing. With the pressure of the final zombie at its back, it remained upright, and the resistance on the pole grew forceful enough to bend the net downward.

  The zombie had reclaimed only a foot when the engine caught and Jake put the boat in reverse. When the momentum hung up on the starboard anchor, the boat jerked, working in our favor. We plunged forward, off balance, and the two zombies disappeared into the water below. I heard the anchor winches work as they rose up from the sea bed, and the boat jolted back into motion.

  "Get it off me!" screamed Vinny. It was the shriek of a terrified man.

  The movement caused him to fall backwards to the deck, and the third zombie landed on his legs. Meg froze in place, screaming wordlessly, and I ran to him. Nearly there, I heard Vinny scream again, but this wasn't a scream of terror; it was one of pain.

  "No!" I bellowed.

  Grabbing the zombie by its ankles I dragged it off him and as close to the opening as I dared. Meg was paralyzed, crying hysterically at the site of her brother lying on his back and screaming profanities. The zombie clutched at the smooth fiberglass for purchase. Finding none, it turned on me, and I kicked its midsection off the boat. Too big for the opening, the zombie folded in half, bending at an unnatural angle, and fell from view.

  The rev of the engine lessened and the boat slowed to an idle a few hundred feet away from the dock. I was still bent over, hands on my knees, trying to force air into my burning lungs when Jake bounded from the stairs leading to the upper deck. His sudden appearance brought me back to the moment and I remembered Vinny.

  I passed Meg, wide eyed and begging God to not take her brother, and reached my brother-in-law.

  "Oh Jesus, oh Jesus," he was babbling, struggling with trembling hands to get his pants off and kicking off his boots at the same time.

  Jake grabbed him beneath the armpits and, with superhuman strength, lifted the huge man to his feet. Vinny tore at the button on his waistband and it popped off, hard enough to whiz by me and clank against the far railing.

  "Where did it get you?" yelled a frantic Jake, inspecting his bare legs in a frenzy. "Fuck, I can't find it. Where are you bit?"

  "My shin, the left one." He pointed at his leg, but couldn't bring himself to look down.

  Jake breathed out something I couldn't understand and sat back against the wall, laughing in relief.

  "Thank fucking Christ, Vin, it didn't break the skin." Jake marveled, his laugh turning to cries as the adrenaline rushed out of him. A collective sigh escaped us all, the moment too heavy to form words.

  Meg, who had been the first to lose control of her emotions, was also the first one to bounce back.

  "So, Vin, Tuesday, huh?" Her voice had a playful tone.

  I had no idea what she was talking about and was about chock it up to temporary insanity, but Vinny turned away from me to face her with a questioning look, and I burst with laughter when I figured it out. Jake caught it too, and was bellowing with me.

  "What the fuck is wrong with you three? Have you lost your fucking minds?"

  "Nice…" Jake started, needing to catch his breath bef
ore continuing. "Nice underwear, bro."

  Vinny was wearing day-of-the-week underwear. In big letters around his ass, read Tuesday.

  "You do know today is Saturday, right?" stated Meg.

  "Yeah, well, I put 'em on Tuesday." His statement made us laugh even harder and step away from the five-day old underwear-clad Vinny.

  * * *

  I was exhausted, physically and emotionally drained from the day, and no matter how hard I struggled, my eyes refused to stay open. I crashed as soon as I plopped my ass on the sofa inside the galley, but not nearly as fast as Vinny, who I could swear was already out before he hit the recliner.

  I jerked awake in the dark. The boat was swaying on the current and Vinny snored loudly a few feet away from where I lay. My brain was still tired, I had napped too long, and it took longer than usual to get my bearings. Daphne matched Vinny's snores in rhythm and didn't stir until I got up. I swear I heard her grumble in protest when she jumped down to follow me. The bed was empty when I went to find Jake. I passed by Meg's room on the way and saw a bulge under the blankets.

  The dog had already figured out that he was on the upper deck, and I followed as she trotted up the stairs.

  "Wow, I began to wonder if you'd slipped into a coma," he joked, and put his arms around me when I got close.

  "I feel like shit. How long have I been out?"

  "Nearly twelve hours. You weren't alone, though. The others crashed around the same time."

  "Man, I wished we had some coffee," I sighed, longing for the caffeinated heaven. "What time is it?"

  "Just after five-thirty. The sun's starting to peek up over there." He pointed behind me.

  I looked around. It was still dark out, but the moon was full, and I could see clearly in its light. I didn't see the dock; in fact, the only land looked to be at least a mile off.