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

by Steve Wands

  Then Yussef pointed at a deader walking towards them and they forgot they were having a good time.

  33 YARD WORK IS HARD WORK

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  All the bodies near the house were piled atop one another. It was a disgusting mass of twitching limbs.

  “I can’t believe we had this many bodies around the house.”

  “Believe it. Let’s go get some of these branches laying all over the place and then let’s light ‘em up.”

  “Do you think the fire will draw more of them here?”

  “The thought has crossed my mind.”

  “What will we do?”

  “Just what we’ve been doing.”

  “What if it’s a lot?”

  “Doesn’t change anything. We have our contingencies. We’ve talked about all this before.”

  They threw fallen branches onto the pile and then Jeff started to douse the bodies in gasoline. He circled around a few times till the container was empty. Then Walter made a torch with a piece of branch and a rag dipped in gas and walked around igniting the gasoline.

  First the clothing started to burn and then, so did the rotting flesh. The flames seemed to move slowly but within minutes the pile of bodies was a raging bonfire. The smell was obscenely revolting, and yet a pleasing scent reminiscent of honey-glazed ham was intermingled.

  “I’m getting kinda hungry. Let’s go see if your mom is cooking anything up.”

  “How the hell are you hungry?”

  “How are you not? This was some hard work.”

  “Gross dad.”

  By the time the three of them entered the house and cleaned up, Laura and Maria had put together a lunch for the kids. Which consisted of jelly bread sandwiches, watered down juices, and the last of the applesauce.

  They ate quickly and scampered off to play, as Walter, Jeff, and Barbara took a seat at the table.

  “You three look exhausted already.”

  “That’s not nice, ma, dad always looks like this.”

  “Funny. Dear, please tell me we have something other than jelly sandwiches for lunch today?”

  “Well, you kids can have peanut butter and jelly. And I’ll even make you all triple-deckers if you want.”

  “Yes please,” Jeff said with a smile.

  “Only if you cut mine into squares.”

  Walter only grumbled, and Laura smiled as a result.

  “It’s not just kid-food, Walter, it’ll do you good on these hard days. It has a lot of calories, a lot of fat, and a lot of protein.”

  “So does a hoagie.”

  “Well, when you go back out, swing by the deli and pick up some cold cuts.”

  “Are you done for today?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I can’t do anymore. I thought it best if we all wash up today. Empty out the open containers of water and replenish them with fresh water. See if we can store any more if we have any more empty bottles or anything.”

  “And tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow we’re going to hit a few more homes. Run over to Gupp’s and look for fencing. Hopefully we can start putting up some kind of fence tomorrow ‘round this time.”

  “Yeah, then we can start taking the kids out regularly.”

  “That’d be nice.”

  “For a bit at least. I for one cannot wait until winter. The colder the better. The more snow the better. Slow them things down.”

  “It’ll slow us down too. But snow is a long ways off.”

  “You never know. Anyhoo, we’ll just worry about the fence for now. Just keep doing one thing at a time and try to make ourselves better off for the next day, and the next day, and the day after that.”

  Laura cut each sandwich down the middle from corner to corner and slid a plate over to each of them.

  “Thanks mom.”

  “Ditto.”

  Grumble.

  “Oh, Walter,” Laura smiled.

  Then she tilted her head and looked out the window at the large bonfire blazing in the front of the house.

  “Makes me think of some of your war stories.”

  “It feels like a war.”

  Jeff and Barbara kept their mouths quiet and full. Their father rarely ever spoke of his time at war, not that he wasn’t proud of his service, he was, but he related talking about it to the feeling of pulling scabs off of wounds. It was an itchy, raw feeling and was best left alone.

  Walter much preferred to talk about tomorrow. He didn’t have a lot of use for yesterdays, and he sure didn’t want to waste today talking about them. His children knew this; Laura did too, perhaps more than anyone. So when Walter mentioned the war, even in brief, they kept quiet in the hopes that more talk of his time in it would be revealed.

  But he had nothing more to say about it, as usual.

  Laura watched the fire and the room was full of chewing and an occasional grumble. The sounds of the kids playing was a faint noise in the background.

  34 THE BRIDGE

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  The dead man was wearing a necktie and nothing else. His body was shredded as if a hundred hands had clawed at his body trying to rip his insides out. His bottom ribs were exposed and what intestines he had left were draped over his genitals. His nose was bitten off and his eyes were gone, replaced by two ragged holes. He opened his mouth and a throaty gurgle poured forth.

  Frankie, gripping a pry-bar, stormed over to the dead thing and swung violently at the dead mans head, sending him into a car and then sliding down. Frankie kicked it as it tried to get back up and swung again into the dead mans face. He swung again and again till his face resembled a jack-o-lantern that’d been kicked in and left on the porch far too long.

  The group continued forward, unimpeded by the violence. Frankie rejoined them once he caught his breath, looking around like a wild animal for another dead thing to pulverize. Frankie loved the adrenaline rush. It was the only time he didn’t feel run down and tired. It made him feel alive, strong, and he wanted to stay that way.

  “There’s the bridge,” Scott pointed.

  “We’re making okay time,” Judy added, “Still got daylight too.”

  “Not for long,” Eddie said.

  “No, but hopefully long enough to light our way across the bridge.”

  “In a perfect world.”

  “How’s everybody looking back there?”

  “The kids are still riding high. They’re probably putting a hurting on the fellas’ backs.”

  “I’ll swap someone out,” Joseph offered, and then fell back and did just that.

  “Stacey? You want to ride on my shoulders for a bit? I think Scott is getting tired.”

  “Are you getting tired?”

  Scott chuckled, “Yes, Stacey, I’m getting a bit tired. Uncle Scott could use a break, whattya say?”

  “Okay. You can take a break.”

  They moved over to the side for a moment and switched off.

  “Thanks Eddie.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Eddie couldn’t help but think of his little sister as Stacey sat atop his shoulders. It took everything in him to not break down and cry. He searched the roadway and hoped to see a deader or two, anything to get this kid off his back and his mind off of his dead siblings. The memories were far too painful. If he could bury them all in the dirt and walkaway he would. He’d love to forget it all and wander around without knowing whom he was or where he’d come from. Dead family, dead friends, and a dying world were the things you needed amnesia to forget.

  The daylight was being dragged down across the horizon and the sky was cooling in color and temperature. As the group made their way through the rows of abandoned vehicles the shadows grew longer and deeper. The air grew chillier, but not by much, just enough to cool the sweat off the backs of everyone walking.

  Judy found herself in the lead and was walking quicker and quicker. Scott and Judy used to walk for an hour or more every morning. Judy loved hiking, and walking. She wasn’t an outdoorsy kind o
f woman and she wasn’t super concerned about staying in shape she just liked to walk. It always made her feel better. Early in their relationship Scott tagged along on her walks just to spend time with her, but after awhile he appreciated it in equal measure.

  Her years of walking came in very useful nowadays and she felt herself gaining energy from walking whereas the others just grew tired. She had to make an effort to keep her pace in line with the others but it was getting harder the closer they grew to the bridge. Her and Scott were now a few car lengths ahead of everyone else and the bridge felt like a beacon of hope as opposed to the act of disparity it had been made out to be.

  Frankie dropped back from the group and hung around the tail end, making small talk with Chuck and Chung-Hee before falling behind them as well. He lingered around the cars now, taking longer and longer to get through them. The blood smears started to look like letters. It was a language Frankie wanted to learn. Some of the smears and spatters looked like paintings in a modern art exhibit and he even started touching the dried smears as he went by. Following them as if they were his. He looked drunk, uninhibited as he continued. Chung-Hee looked back to see where he was and at a quick glance it only looked as if Frankie were running his hands along the cars as you would a wall just to feel the texture.

  Frankie caught back up with the tail end of the group and as he did a few deaders presented themselves. One crawling out from underneath a truck, another getting up from the side of the road, and another falling over the concrete divider. Frankie smiled and walked over to one of them, pry-bar at the ready.

  Chung-Hee went after one, and Chuck the other.

  Chuck was still very much squeamish about fighting the dead off. He kept his distance and hated having to get close at all to them. Regardless he got in and dispatched the dead thing, as did Chung-Hee who saw it simply as a task. He went about killing the dead as he did taking out the garbage. He just went and got it done. There was no joy in it, or trepidation. He just did it.

  Frankie on the other hand was still hitting the thing in the head. The body bouncing from the force of each blow. As Frankie walked away the body continued to convulse and twitch.

  It was near dark now. The group had made it to the foot of the bridge. The tollbooths were clogged with cars, trucks, and buses. The scene before them was an absolute nightmare, and the bridge beyond it looked only slightly better.

  Scott turned to the group, “Any of you ever see the movie The Gauntlet, with Clint Eastwood?”

  “Yeah,” Jon-Jon said, “but didn’t he at least have a fucking bus?”

  35 STOCKPILING

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  With little trouble the next day came and so did the next day’s tasks. Walter, Jeff, and Barbara were up and ready to go by the time the rest of the household trickled down the stairs. Jeff hugged and kissed his little ones goodbye. They were upset with him for leaving, and as much as it tore him open he knew he had to go out so that they could have a better tomorrow. Or at least the chance of one. He gave his wife a kiss, and Walter did the same. They were both told to be safe and Barbara stood around awkwardly just wanting to leave already and get it over with.

  “We ready?”

  Walter nodded, “Yep, let’s get on with it.”

  “Are you coming back for lunch?”

  “I don’t know, we’ll be gone however long it takes. So don’t count on it I guess.”

  “Daddy, I want to come too. I can help,” Tommy said, standing tall.

  “Oh, Tommy-boy, I know you can help me, but I need you here. You have to look after your little brother and sister,” then Jeff got down on his knee and leaned in close to whisper, “and you have to keep grandma, and mommy safe too. They’re old ladies.”

  Tommy thought about this for a second. His mom and grandma were old, he thought. And Sandra and Wally were too little to help out, “Okay. I’ll stay and protect them.”

  Tommy raised his chin proudly, smiling at his father.

  They drove off to the last house they had scavenged the other day and picked up where they left off. There was a lonely deader staggering a few feet down the street. Initially it was walking in the other direction, but upon hearing their arrival it had turned around and started walking towards them.

  “I got it,” Jeff said, walking towards it briskly.

  He quickly dispatched the dead thing and left it to twitch in the street.

  They hit the few homes on the street, yielding plenty of supplies with each one. They had even scored a few weapons as well: a shotgun, and three handguns, each with a few boxes of ammunition. Whomever they belonged to was obviously trying to prepare for the deaders as they were sitting loaded at a small kitchen table, loaded and ready to fire. Also on the table was a radio and flashlight, which they took as well.

  “Building up our arsenal,” Walter smiled as he put them in the back of the truck.

  “Not a bad haul.”

  “Gupp’s?”

  Jeff nodded and took a turn behind the wheel. Driving off to the Gupp’s Hardware, the local store that Walter and his son routinely visited almost every weekend during the spring for one thing or another.

  “Going house to house I kind of hoped we’d run into someone.”

  “Anyone in particular?”

  “No. Just anyone alive, ya know, surely there has to be more of us left in town.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that too. I’m sure there has to be, but there were a lot of them things that came through town.”

  “Maybe we should drive around looking for others?”

  “Maybe, kiddo, maybe. Let’s go to Gupp’s first though, see if we can’t scrounge up some fencing materials.”

  “Where would we start, though? If we were going to look for others?”

  “I’d want to hit the police station first. I think that’s where most people would still try to go to for help, and Davis was organizing everyone from there if any of his people are left I’d think they would still operate out of there.”

  “Worst case, maybe we can find some more guns, too.”

  “Well, here we are.”

  “The police station is right down the street. Should we go check it out first?”

  “Let’s stay on task, okay. Once we finish up here we can head over there later. Look at this…it’s nice and boarded up. Looks just the way they left it.”

  They walked around the building, making sure no deaders were in the area, and came back around to the front entrance.

  “I sure do hate doing this,” Walter said, before he smashed out the glass on the front door.

  “No alarm.”

  “They had a silent alarm. I remember they switched it out, because the old one would always get tripped on accident, and the damned thing was blaring. He just got fed up and upgraded his system.”

  Walter reached in and spun the lock, opening the door. He didn’t think a deader would be in the store, but he entered cautiously all the same. Barbara followed and Jeff hung back momentarily, making sure they wouldn’t be followed in by anyone, or anything.

  “All right,” Jeff said, catching up with them, “they have what we want?”

  “Not sure, but take a few of these snow shovels back to the truck will ya?”

  “Snow shovels. Really?”

  “Hopefully we’ll be able to use them, no?”

  “Yeah. I guess I hope so.”

  Walter looked around. The place was nearly empty. Practically wiped clean. All the practical things that one might think to acquire while in an emergency were gone; batteries, flashlights, gas cans, extension cords, etc. Thinking outside of the box, Walter looked at a pallet of spring seed mix. Why would anyone have wanted to grab these earlier? Walter saw they could be used like sandbags.

  He spun around. Noting the shovels, rakes, hoes, and then noticed a few post diggers, “Barbara, go bring those out to Jeff.”

  She bundled them up in her arms and carried them out.

  There was no lumber left in the stor
e, but Walter spotted several bags of QuickCrete and figured they’d be good for something eventually--at least for setting the posts. As soon as his kids came back he had them carry those out as well.

  By the time they were ready to head home they had found some machetes, scores of nails and screws, random tools, chainsaws, toilet paper from the backroom, cases of soda for the small vending machine near the register. Surprisingly the hodgepodge of goods took up the bed of the truck. Walter wanted to come back for the pallet of seed mix, but found he had to explain for what.

  “You really want us to come back for seed mix?”

  “Think of them as sandbags.”

  “Okay, but for what?”

  “For fortification, what else?”

  “With no fence, what do we fortify?”

  “Whatever we need to. Besides, just because we didn’t find what we need here doesn’t mean we abort the fence. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

  “We’re not skinning cats.”

  “We can fortify the door, the porch--What will it hurt to come back for it?”

  “Our backs, and our gas tank.”

  “Then I’ll come back myself for it.”

  “Fine. Fine, we’ll come back for it. Now let’s go bring this shit home, okay?”

  ***

  Only a block away from Walter and his kids Davis stared down at the floor of the holding cell.

  I’m not going to die in here. I’m not going to die in here.

  This was his mantra. He would not accept this place as his last. He knew he would get out eventually. If only he could convince the others, who already looked as if they’d resigned themselves to death.

  “Why is this happening?” Danni asked.