Stay Dead (Book 2): The Dead and The Dying

by Steve Wands

  The truck came to a stop and Walter stepped out. He took the baseball bat from the bed of the truck, and grabbed the shovel, tossing it to Jeff as he got out. Barbara stepped out with rifle in hand. Walter wanted her to take the back and use the rifle if needed. He was certain him and Jeff could handle any deaders on their own with the melee weapons, but just in case, having Barbara with the rifle wasn’t a bad idea—especially since she was shaping up to be a decent shot.

  Walter led his children up the steps. He peered in to the front window, and though it was bright outside it seemed no light found it’s way in the home. It was dark and grey, like everything had a thick layer of dust on it. He imagined they must have drawn the shades, locked the windows and the doors and as he tried to the doorknob he knew he was right. It was locked, as was the window.

  “We’re going to have to break in.”

  “I’ll do it. Step back.”

  Jeff eyed the door and hoped his idea worked. He rammed the head of the spade shovel into the doorjamb where the lock was. The wood splintered and his arms vibrated as he struck the lock. He rammed it a few more times and was then able to pry open the door.

  Walter looked around the yard for deaders. Seeing nothing he led them inside the dark house.

  Jeff’s heart pounded. He tried to listen for anything in the house, but he was unable to hear anything over his own breathing and racing heartbeat.

  “Come on,” Walter said. “Let’s be quick about this.”

  Walter walked through the home cautiously but still swiftly. Checking each room as he moved through it. They found the kitchen and Walter rummaged through the cabinets till he found a box of trash bags. There was also a flashlight in there that he grabbed and put in his back pocket.

  “Here,” he ripped open the box and handed each of them a bag, “fill it up with supplies and run it to the truck.”

  Barbara slung the rifle over her shoulder and loaded the bag efficiently. She opened the cabinets and began throwing in boxes of pasta, canned goods, spices, and your run of the mill non-perishables.

  Jeff opened the freezer and was hit in the face with the smell of spoiled meat. He quickly closed it and opened the fridge for the same scent, but grabbed two bottles of soda and a small pack of bottled water.

  Walter opened the pantry and bagged everything he could. He grabbed cleaning items as well as food and stuffed the bags till they were ripping from the weight.

  “Okay, let’s run these back to the truck. Let’s go.”

  They dumped the bags into the bed of the truck, taking in their surroundings the whole time. Walter’s head moved from side to side and he kept looking back to their home to make sure no deaders had gone in search of living flesh.

  “Going back,” Jeff said, as he bounded the steps.

  They hit the kitchen one more time and were only able to scrape together another bag. Walter found a bathroom on the same floor and grabbed everything out of the medicine cabinet save for the used toothbrushes. He added the items to the bag and set it by the door.

  They continued on the level and while opening what Walter suspected was a closet door they stumbled upon the basement. Walter grabbed the flashlight from his back pocket and descended.

  “Wait here till I give the all clear,” he said midway down the staircase.

  Walter reached the bottom and spun the light around the room. It was a small damp basement. In one corner sat a workbench, in the other a washer and dryer set with a slop sink. On one side of the basement was a line of Rubbermaid storage cabinets.

  “Is it clear?”

  “Yeah, yeah, come on down. Bring the bags.”

  They opened the storage cabinets and emptied what little was in there. Jeff grabbed a case of water and they headed back up stairs.

  They went through the rest of the house and found little else aside from some health aids in the upstairs bathroom and linen closet.

  After loading up the truck they moved on to the next house, and then the next. Walter felt a growing anxiety in his stomach the further away their home looked in the rearview mirror, but at least when they got back they would be better equipped to whether the storm.

  18 HOLD ON

  (back to top)

  Alexis watched in terror, staring out the back window as the van tipped over.

  “Oh, my God! Abdul, we have to do something!”

  Chris started crying and Stacey yelled at him to shut up.

  “Stay here with the children. Carrie, be ready to drive away if need be. I’ll do what I can.”

  “How about I drive away now?”

  Abdul grabbed a tire-iron, “Enough, Carrie, or so help me I will use this on you when I get back,” he yelled, then hurried over to the van. Scott and Judy followed behind, each brandishing a similar melee weapon.

  The dead shambled slowly down the hill. Some toppled over and rolled down the hill. It would be comical if they were removed from the reality of the situation.

  Inside the van Eddie bled profusely from his nose. He opened the side door and started helping everyone out. Jon-Jon and Dawn were both unconscious in the front, and Eddie feared one if not both were dead. Frankie crawled out of the van, dizzy and disoriented. Abdul ran over to him and pointed him toward his truck.

  “Go!” He yelled, but Frankie stood there, hoping he could be of help.

  Chuck, and Chung-Hee were next out of the van.

  The dead were now approaching.

  Scott went on the offensive and attacked the closest one, cracking its head open on the first swing and sending it reeling backwards.

  Eddie stepped out of the van, pulling his mother out. Janice clutched her head and a thin sliver of crimson ran down her face. Joseph followed, looking only frazzled and angry.

  Abdul opened the passenger side door and shook Dawn to consciousness. She was disoriented and her vision was blurry. She began to scream and smack Abdul away. He calmed her down, reassuring her that he wasn’t going to hurt her as the sounds of the dead began to buzz in his ears like a swarm of flies around road kill.

  Scott took down another. Then Judy took one down. Frankie attacked another. Yet still more came and Dawn was just getting out of the van.

  “What the hell is taking so long?” Carrie whined.

  “It looks like some of them are hurt,” Alexis replied.

  “Hurt bad? Should we go?”

  “I want to go,” Nick pleaded.

  “We have to wait,” Stacey told him.

  “We’re not going anywhere,” Alexis yelled.

  Alexis continued to look out the window. Eddie was walking his mother to the other car. She couldn’t see Joseph, and hoped he wasn’t hurt.

  Judy was checking Jon-Jon for a pulse. A surge of relief washed over her when she found one. He wasn’t waking up and she couldn’t lift him by herself. She looked around and Joseph met her eyes. He ran over instinctively and she yelled for him to hurry.

  “He’s alive!”

  “Thank Christ,” Joseph replied. “Let’s get him out of there.”

  Joseph was a strong young guy and had no trouble pulling Jon-Jon out of the van and hoisting him over his shoulder.

  “Follow me,” Judy said as she started jogging away.

  “Everyone’s out of the van.” Abdul said, pulling Frankie back from the onslaught of dead.

  “Let’s go!” Abdul yelled.

  Scott turned and ran, surveying the area for his wife.

  They converged at the two vehicles, the dead not far behind.

  “Fuck! We’re not all gonna fit.”

  Abdul looked at his truck. “Guys, get on top of the truck. Hold on to the roof racks.”

  “They can’t ride up there!” Carrie yelled.

  “Joe, put Jon in our truck. Janice, get in there too. Dawn I think you should hop in too, and if anyone else can fit. Chung you might be able to squeeze in the back on top of the luggage.”

  “The rest of you start climbing,” Scott said as he hopped in the driver’s seat.
>
  Eddie and his brother Joseph climbed up Scott’s SUV, laid down on their bellies, holding tight to the roof racks. Chung-Hee hopped inside the SUV and sat on top of the luggage in the back, while Chuck and Frankie climbed up on top of Abdul’s SUV.

  Frankie slapped the roof to signal they were good to go and Abdul began to accelerate and not a moment too soon, since the dead were already in reach of the truck behind them.

  The dead clawed at the window as Chung-Hee stared at them.

  “God damn that was a close call,” Scott yelled.

  “You’re not kidding,” Chung-Hee said.

  Dawn sat next to Jon-Jon who still hadn’t woken up.

  Judy looked back at her, “He’s going to be okay, Dawn. Jon’s a tough guy and he’ll pull through. He must’ve hit his head pretty hard. Just give him time, and keep his head up.”

  “Thanks, Judy. He better pull through. I’m starting to like him.”

  “Don’t start getting soft, now.”

  “I’m not. Women like me don’t get soft.”

  “How’s your nose?” Joseph yelled over to his brother.

  “Hurt’s like a bitch, man.”

  “You break it?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Feels like it, for sure,” he said, licking the blood from his upper lip.

  “Could be worse.”

  Eddie didn’t want to think about it. Damn right it could’ve been worse. Him, his brother, and his mother could all be dead by now. All the suffering, the heartache, and the surviving these last days would all be for naught. If that was the case he would’ve chosen to be eaten on day one and just get it over with, but luckily they were still alive. Hanging on to the roof racks of a stolen truck and being stalked by the living dead, but alive.

  Was it worth it, he wondered, and thought it had to be. Surely this was better than the alternative. Surely this was better than being one of the living dead.

  19 FREE LUNCH

  (back to top)

  Abdul sped through the path along the road, bobbing and weaving out of the way of bushes and low-hanging branches. He continued to look for an opening that would allow them to get back onto the road but none presented themselves so he stayed the course. The kids thought the ride was fun and squealed in delight when Abdul hit a large bump, sending them up in the air.

  “He’s still not awake.” Dawn said somberly, stroking his hand.

  “He’ll be fine,” Judy reassured. “Janice, how’s your head? Are you feeling okay?”

  “Oh, I’m okay. Just a bit of a bump. The older I get the easier it is to bleed. Believe it or not I’ve bled worse from paper cuts.”

  “You’re a tough woman. When we stop—if we stop, I’ll see if I can scrounge up some Ibuprofen, or maybe something stronger if either of you need it. You might start feeling sore later, once the adrenaline wears off.”

  “My neck is already starting to hurt,” Dawn said.

  “At my age, I don’t know what’s a new pain or an old pain,” she smiled, without even realizing it.

  “How about you, Chung?”

  “I’m good. A little cramped over here, but I can’t complain.”

  “Good.”

  Scott rolled down the window and shouted to Eddie and Joseph on the roof, “How you guys holding up?”

  “Just great!” Eddie yelled back.

  “I keep getting hit by these fucking branches!”

  “Sorry—doing the best I can!”

  After an hour or so of slow moving on the side of the road the incline softened and the congestion of abandoned vehicles lessened allowing the two-car convoy to get back on the road.

  Abdul pulled over to the side and slowed down. Scott pulled up next to him and rolled down the window.

  “Scott, do you think it would be better to look for a new vehicle now, or continue moving forward?”

  “I don’t know. What do you guys think, up there?”

  Eddie slid over to the edge, “I can hang on as long as we have to. Joe’s fine too. I’d rather keep going and get some more distance between us and the deaders we left behind.”

  “Might as well keep going,” Frankie joined in, “at least while the road is clear. Ya know? Go as far as we can. Then when it gets congested again, we’ll have a better chance of finding another truck. More to choose from and shit.”

  “Makes sense,” Scott agreed. “Chuck, whaddya think? Can you hold on longer?”

  “Yeah, just don’t go too fast guys, and no sudden breaking, please—we could go flying.”

  “Good point.”

  “After you, Abdul,” Scott said.

  “Okay, guys, hold on.”

  Eddie stared off to the side at the ever moving and changing landscape. Sparse trees littered the hills, industrial buildings bled into the grey of the sky and it all coalesced into a blurry image raking across his eyes.

  Now more than ever the world seemed to be dying. Autumn always brought with it a sense of change, but now, coupled with the insanity that was the living dead that change seemed more permanent. Each falling leaf was a breath from a dying world, each tree a decaying limb. The roadways were clogged arteries that pulverized a still-beating heart, unaware of the massive attack that would soon sweep its tissue and leave it cold.

  Maybe the clouds themselves would stay gray and fall out of the sky, blanketing the earth in a morbid dust-like haze.

  “This sucks!” Joseph yelled, spitting bugs out of his mouth.

  “It’s a free lunch!”

  Joseph held on to the roof racks with one hand, squeezing tighter than ever, as he used his other hand to wipe away the bugs that were smattering his face and collecting in his growing, but spotty, beard.

  The idea of having to eat bugs to survive was not a new one. It was something he thought about quite a number of years ago while watching a television show that paid good money for people to eat insects. The show was supposed to be about facing fear, but in reality it was just about grossing out the audience so that they would be too disgusted to change the channel.

  There were many similar shows Joseph watched when he could fit in time for television. Shows like Survivorman, Fear Factor, Man VS The Wild, and plenty more, and when Joseph came across an episode dealing with the ever-popular bug eating his stomach would turn and his mind would produce a scenario in which he had to eat bugs to survive.

  In these machinations of his mind he would get as far as putting the bug in his mouth and upon feeling its legs touch his tongue he would throw up. Just thinking about it make him sick, and now, picking bugs out of his mouth he wondered how much longer it would be before that little nightmare became a reality. He still didn’t know if he had what it took to eat a bug to live.

  He could wipe his ass with leaves. He could forego bathing and neglect his hygiene. He could ration food, drink tepid tap water, and sleep in cars. He could kill the hell out of deaders, and he was able to keep his sanity mostly intact as he dealt with the grief over the fallen members of his family.

  He turned his head to the side and tried not to think about it.

  20 BIG BAD WOLF

  (back to top)

  Sarah and Jim sat near the window most of the day. Jim was nervous with how many deaders had been visible today. This was more than he’d seen in a number of days and he attributed it to he and Sarah attempting to flee earlier. They lingered far longer than they had been and a number of them had even come to the home clawing at it and shambling around, searching for a way in.

  It kept both of them in a state of unease. Jim’s mind was taken off his earlier dark thoughts and now focused on the deaders outside. They needed something big to divert their attention. He hoped a car would drive by, a gunshot would go off—hell, he didn’t care what it was, so long as it made them go away.

  Sarah grabbed the binoculars from Jim’s desk and peered outside once again. She paused on each of the deaders. Taking in their grotesque appearances and their individual nuances distorted through the lens of death; one deader walked w
ith his arm bent in front of him as if shielding his eyes with his forearm; another dragged its leg along the pavement and shrugged it’s shoulder; one had facial tics; another was buck-naked and pale, her milky white skin contrasting against the dried blood that covered her forearms and hands that evidently poured from the gashes in her wrists.

  She saw another one in the distance. There was something familiar about the deader and as it stepped out of the shadows his face could be seen more clearly.

  “No…”

  His eyes were wide. His cheeks sunken in and the skin of his lips shriveled tightly around his teeth.

  “Oh God, no…”

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  His shirt was in shreds and covered in dried blood. She could see his innards hanging out from underneath it and draping over his pants down into the street.

  “Oh, fuck.”

  “Let me see.”

  His intestinal track dragged dryly along the black top, shredding more with each step.

  “Goddamnit.”

  “Here, give me the binoculars.”

  It was Boone.

  “I don’t see anything special. What was it? What did you see?”

  She was crying now, “Boone, my friend.”

  “Shit. He’s out there?” He felt stupid even as the question came out of his mouth but there it was.

  She nodded, putting her hand over her lips.

  “I-I’m sorry. Jeez, that’s awful,” Jim didn’t know what else to say. He was grasping for something. Anything. “Why don’t you go lay down? I’ll keep an eye on things. You should rest up.”

  “Yeah, okay,” she said, as she walked out of the room looking just as pale and hollow as the dead things in the street.

  The daylight seemingly took forever to die, but in the dusk the only thing that changed was how much of the dead Jim could see. He knew they were out there. Scraping at the door, prodding at the siding, walking down the streets. They knew he was in there. Somehow, they knew it and it creeped Jim the fuck out. He sat at the top of his stairway, listening to the sounds of the dead as they inspected the home. He could hear Sarah sleeping now, too. She went from sobbing to snoring, snoring to sobbing, and then back again to sobbing.