Darlene twisted in time to see Esperanza disappear into the pouring rain. “Come back! Don’t leave me!”
Ice-cold hands grabbed Darlene’s ankles and spun her around. Looming above her were the starved faces of Jerry and Samantha.
Esperanza ran across the water-soaked yard, Darlene’s screams chasing her. The Mexican woman stopped for a moment, lost in the darkness and pouring rain. There was a flash of brilliant lightning and she saw the small barn. She ran for it, her bare feet slipping in the mud, the hard rain blinding her. She reached the small barn and ran for the far side, heading up the stairs. Her feet slid on the slick wood and she fell to the stairs, striking her jaw. Blood oozed from her lips. Forcing herself up, Esperanza ran to the top of the stairs and beat on the door.
”Ed! Se abren!”
Darlene was no longer screaming.
The door opened and Ed filled the doorway, dressed only in his britches. “What is it?”
Esperanza pushed past him, slamming the door shut behind her and throwing the latch. Ed’s room was small and held only a bed and dresser. A lantern sat on top of the dresser and a rifle lay at the foot of the bed.
“Now hold on here.” Ed said, “You just can’t barge--“
“Mataron a Darlene. La comieron.” Esperanza swung the rosary around, aiming the cross at the door.
Ed backed away from the door. “What? Slow down, you know I can’t understand you when you talk that fast.”
Esperanza crossed herself. “El diablo los tiene!”
“What in the hell are you talking about?”
Esperanza looked at Ed. “The Devil has them! They ate Darlene…I tried to save her, but there was nothing I could do.”
“Who ate her?” Ed reached for the door. “I better get Jerry, you’re not making any sense.”
Esperanza grabbed Ed by the arm. “He is one of them. Him and Samantha. You need to get a gun, they’ll be--”
“What are you talking about? I saw Jerry not more than ten minutes ago. He was getting the horses.”
Something struck the door, the wood bending from the impact. The latch shuddered.
“They’re here! Get a gun!” Esperanza backed away from the door, tears running down her face. She crossed herself and silently muttered a prayer. They were going to come in and get them, tear them to pieces. Esperanza prayed that her death would be fast and that God would welcome her into Heaven.
The door burst open, wood chunks flying through the air. Jerry’s darkened form loomed in the doorway, his face and chest and hands covered with bits of bone and flesh and blood and wood. Rain sprayed through the shattered doorway.
“Got room for one more?” Jerry said.
“The Devil! Shoot him!” Esperanza backed toward Ed’s bed, the cross outstretched. God would protect her from this looming horror, had to protect her.
Ed looked at Jerry with disbelief. “Uncle Jerry? What’s going on? I thought you were going to town.”
“It’s the hunger, Ed. It never stops. You eat and eat and eat but it’s still there….” Jerry stepped into the room, blood running from his mouth. Ed backed away from his uncle, unsure of what was happening, but horrified at the sight before him. Jerry tossed a half-eaten arm toward Ed. It landed at the young man’s feet.
Ed looked at the chunk of flesh, his eyes wide with horror. Warm urine ran down his leg.
Esperanza backed into the bed and turned and saw the rifle lying on the floor. She picked it up and aimed it at Jerry, the rosary hanging from one hand.
“Just one bite, Ed, just one.” Jerry stumbled into the room, blood and gore dripping from his hands and mouth. Ed tried to move, but his body wouldn’t obey. Jerry’s eyes were black and his teeth were stained red.
Esperanza fired, the bullet striking Jerry in the right arm. The sound of the shot echoed across the room and the air stunk of spent gunpowder. Jerry turned to her, his face a mask of rage.
“You fucking bitch!” Jerry rushed Esperanza and she fired again, this time striking him in the chest. Jerry stumbled back a few feet, blood and foam oozing from the wound. He raised his head and looked at Ed. “Are you going to let that bitch do this to me?”
Ed stared at his uncle in horror.
Esperanza cocked the rifle and raised it, aiming for Jerry’s head. The blast blew the left side of Jerry’s face away. Liquefied brains dripped from the cavity in his skull and Jerry fell backward. Esperanza stood there, still aiming the rifle, unsure if Jerry was really dead.
Ed looked down at Jerry, his mind trying to navigate through the madness he had just witnessed. He looked at the shattered door, at his dead uncle. This couldn’t be happening. What would make Jerry do such a thing? Sure, he could be a hard man at times, but he would never turn into such a monster. Ed dropped to his knees, nausea racing through him. He looked at Jerry’s blasted head, then turned and vomited.
“Do you have another gun?” Esperanza asked. She still held the rifle out, but her hands shook from fear. Cold sweat slid down her face and she felt light-headed and sick. The entire room stunk of blood and rotting flesh and gunpowder.
“Yeah…there’s a Colt under my bed.” Ed closed his eyes. Vomit dripped from his lips and his throat burned from the bile. He had to focus, deal with the situation. His head still felt light as he struggled to his feet, heading toward the bed.
Samantha lunged into the room, tackling Ed from behind. They crashed to the floor, Samantha’s bloody hands digging for purchase on Ed’s back. Her face was painted in crimson and bits of flesh jutted from between her teeth. Esperanza clubbed Samantha in the head with the butt of the rifle, driving the dead woman back. Her hands trembling, Esperanza raised the rifle and shot Samantha in the face. The dead woman dropped to the floor, a pool of blood forming a circle around her head.
Ed lay on his stomach, his face buried in the floor, panting for breath. He pushed himself up, fighting to keep his balance. His stomach lurched again, but this time he kept its contents under control. He got up and pushed the shattered door to his room closed.
Esperanza lowered the gun and collapsed onto the bed, tears running down her face. She kissed the rosary several times, thanking God for saving her, for sparing her from the horror that had damned Jerry and Darlene and Samantha.
Ed moved toward the bed and sat next to Esperanza and put his arm around her. Esperanza continued to cry. Blood and flesh and foam and mucus were splattered across her face and arms and chest. Ed released Esperanza for a moment and staggered over to his dresser where he got a clean undershirt. He returned to Esperanza and began to clean her face.
“They were all really sick,” Esperanza said, “but Jerry said he was well enough to get the wagon and take them to town, to see the doctor.” Esperanza lowered her head.
“I know. I saw him outside. He told me to go back to bed.”
“They chased us through the house and Darlene fell down the stairs and was showing the signs of the sickness. I tried to get her out, but her leg was hurt and there was nothing I could do.” Esperanza paused. “I could hear her screaming.”
Ed glanced at Jerry and Samantha. The gore seemed fake, like it was part of some twisted stage production like the kind they put on in New York City. Surely this couldn’t be real, could it? What could have turned them into those kind of monsters?
“The sickness did this,” Esperanza said. “The Devil’s sickness grabbed them and would not let go.”
Ed had never put much stock in Esperanza’s religious beliefs, but what he had just witnessed seemed well beyond the realm of the natural world. Ed got up and reached under the bed and pulled out a small wooden box. Inside was the Colt and around forty rounds. He set the box on the bed and pulled on his pants, boots, and a shirt. He looked at Esperanza’s muddy bare feet. “You want some boots?”
Esperanza nodded.
Outside thunder and lightning sliced apart the night sky. The wind pushed the door open and rain splashed into the room through the shattered doorway. Ed walked over to the
dresser and pulled a pair of boots out of the bottom drawer. “Here ya go.” Esperanza took the boots and pulled them on.
“They too big?”
“Yeah.”
Ed pulled a couple of pairs of socks out of his drawer and handed them to Esperanza. “Stuff those in the front of the boot and then put your foot in.”
Esperanza did as Ed said.
“Better?”
“Yes.”
Ed put on his belt, loaded the Colt and placed it under the belt, and put the rest of the bullets in his front pants pocket. “We should head for town,” he said. “Get some help.”
“Someone should say something over their bodies.” Esperanza got up off the bed. “Help them make things right before they face God.”
“There’s time for that later. We need to get the sheriff and then we can get Reverend Schwartz to come out and say something.” Ed looked at Esperanza’s shocked and wasted face. “How does that sound?”
Esperanza simply nodded, a fresh flood of tears running down her face. Ed took her by the hand and walked toward the door, being careful to not step on Jerry or Samantha. Esperanza followed Ed out the door, the rifle and rosary clutched in one hand.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Paul crashed to the floor, the impact filling his head with a ringing white noise. He was in an office and a small lantern burned on the other side of the room. The office’s furniture had been broken and overturned, and the walls and floor were covered with blood and white foam and bits of flesh. A half-eaten corpse lay a few feet from Paul.
The dead man lifted Paul by one arm. Slobber and blood and white paste dribbled from the zombie’s hungry lips. Paul struggled to grab a gun from his belt, but the man spun Paul around and hugged him close, his mouth closing in on Paul’s face.
“Sweet, sweet meat,” the zombie muttered, his teeth clicking rapidly. The zombie’s breath stunk of rotten flesh and blood.
Paul smashed his forehead against the dead man’s nose. There was a loud crack and a stream of blood oozed from the wound. The zombie retaliated by throwing Paul across the room. Paul crashed into the far wall and slid to the floor, pain shooting through his back. The wood of the wall scraped Paul’s bare back and blood trickled from the raw flesh. The world turned into a long black tunnel for a moment and then slammed back. “Fuck,” Paul muttered, struggling to clear his mind.
The zombie lumbered toward him.
#
John ran to the building’s front door and pulled; it was locked. He rammed against the door twice, but it wouldn’t budge. A dead woman stumbled up to John, a yellowed hand reaching for his tender neck. John swung his shotgun around and blew the woman’s head off. He rammed the door again; it still wouldn’t budge. John turned back toward the window.
Two male zombies moved in front of the shattered window, their bare feet scraping against the soaked wooden floor of the porch. Lightning flared and for a second John clearly saw the entire street, the endless horde slowly marching toward him. John leveled the shotgun and fired and the blast blew the two zombies off the porch.
From inside the building came several shots.
A small boy bolted up onto the porch and for a moment John just stared at him, not registering that the boy was covered in blood, not registering the exposed rib cage or the hungry gleam in the boy’s eyes. The boy struck John on the left side and drove him back, his mouth trying to bite into John’s leg. John brought the shotgun down and smashed the butt of it into the boy’s face, knocking him away. John took one last look at the encroaching mob and jumped through the window.
Paul was on the far side of the room, struggling to get his other firearm out of its holster. The first revolver, its chamber spent, lay on the floor in front of him.
The zombie lumbered toward Paul, blood and foam dripping from its gunshot wounds. Paul looked across the room and saw John sitting on the floor. “Shoot him!” Paul yelled.
The zombie stopped for a moment, then turned around and looked at John. The zombie licked its lips. “Bones are good for sucking.”
John looked at the dead man and began to reload his shotgun. Several dark hands snaked their way through the shattered window next to him, raw and bloodied fingers grasping for flesh. The sound of splintering wood filled the office as the locked door came under attack. John aimed the shotgun at the zombie’s head and pulled the trigger. A red mist hung in the air for a moment and the body collapsed in a dead heap.
More hands snaked their way through the window and the door started to crack from the onslaught. Something struck the wall next to John. He turned toward the window and fired, the shotgun cutting a naked woman in half.
“Find a way out of here!” John struggled to reload the shotgun.
Paul stood and ran to the back of the room. There was a door at the rear of the office, partially covered by an overturned bookcase. Paul pulled the bookcase away from the door and exited the office.
He entered a small sitting room. Two faded velvet chairs and a couch sat on either side of a long wooden table, and a large rug covered the wooden floor. A kerosene lantern still burned in one corner, casting a hollow yellow glaze over the room. Paul noticed a heavy wooden door at the back of the room. He ran toward it.
From the front office came the sound of shattering wood and multiple gunshots. A moment later John entered the sitting room, throwing the door shut behind him. John grabbed the chairs and threw them against the door. With the chairs in place, John pushed the couch in front of the door as well.
“That ain’t gonna hold,” John said. “We gotta get out of here.”
Paul opened the rear door and looked out at the dreary night. Wind threw rain at his face and he was suddenly very cold, goose bumps spreading across his body. Paul stepped outside and found himself in a narrow alley; a tall wooden fence protected the rear of the building. The alley was dark and quiet.
John ran to his brother and joined him outside. From inside the building came the sounds of shattering wood, scraping flesh, and clicking teeth.
“Now where?” John asked.
Paul reached back and closed the door before heading down the alley. “Maybe we can follow this and sneak past them.”
“Let’s go.”
The brothers crept down the alley, the rain picking up again. John’s bare feet sank into the mud and he struggled to keep his footing. They reached the edge of the building, then quickly crossed another alley that ran perpendicular to the first, and continued on. Lightning and thunder crashed all around them. They reached another building and looked behind them. Several zombies had already stumbled out into the alley and more were following. A little girl lead the way, one bloodied hand clutching a doll’s head.
John turned around and looked in front of them. The alley ended as the fence turned directly into the building, blocking their way. “We gotta go back.”
The brothers ran back to the intersection and started for the street. Dark shapes were already collecting at the end of the alley; on the side of the building to their right was a staircase.
The little zombie girl turned the corner and started to run toward Paul and John, a smile stretched across her face.
“Fuck,” John said. He ran for the stairs. “Follow me.”
“We’ll be trapped!” Paul looked at the ends of the alley; both were filling with the dead.
John was already sprinting up the stairs. “It’s either up here or down there with them.”
Paul took one last look to the little girl and started up the stairs. The bottom of the staircase was splattered with blood and the banister was broken.
John reached the top of the stairs. The door was cracked and smeared with blood and the handle was gone. John pushed the door open and entered; a moment later Paul followed him in.
They stood in a washroom. A metal tub sat next to the door, and a desk and dresser sat on the other side of the room. Blood covered the floor and two oil burning lamps burned dimly from the walls. A large window looked outside.
Paul holstered his gun and joined John. They got the tub in front of the door just as the little girl reached the top of the stairs. She tried to push the door open, but the metal tub refused to budge.
“No fair,” the little girl whined.
The brothers quickly reinforced the door with the desk and dresser. From outside came the sound of scratching nails. Thunder shook the building.
“Now what?” Paul said.
“I don’t know. That’s the only door.”
The door fell silent and for a long moment the only sound Paul and John heard was the rain.
“Hear that? Maybe they gave up.” John began to reload his guns.
“They didn’t give up. I get the feeling they never give up. They’re just looking for another way in.” Paul grabbed a towel off of a hanger and began to dry himself. From outside came another clap of thunder. “I don’t like being stuck in here.”
“Me neither, but the only other way out is through the window.”
Paul dropped the towel and walked over to the window. The frame was warped and the window would only open part of the way. Paul grabbed the towel, wrapped it around his right hand, broke out all the glass and looked out. The fence was directly below and zombies milled around, mumbling to themselves. On the other side of the fence was a rain-choked creek. Paul looked up. The roof was right above his head, easily within reach. Paul ducked back inside the window.
“I think we can get up on the roof," Paul said. "If nothing else, they shouldn’t be able to get us for awhile.”
“What do you think is going on?”
“Hell if I know.”
“I’ve never heard of anything like this. They’re eating each other. They shrug off everything that isn’t a head shot.”
“Maybe it’s a curse or something.”
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