by Nord, K. C.
I couldn't have been out for more than a few minutes; everything was pitch black when I came to; at first, I was pretty disoriented but soon realized that I was inside a bag, possibly a feed sack being awkwardly carried by two people. My head was pounding, and the heat inside the bag made me feel queasy, which made me fear that if I didn't get out of this bag soon, I would start vomiting, which was the absolute worst thing that could happen. Panicked, I started struggling and yelling, doing everything that I could to get away and maybe attract some help.
One of the people carrying me, a woman from the sound of her voice, started cursing, and seconds later, I was dropped roughly on the ground. And the bag was pulled roughly from my head, blinking in the bright light, I looked around and realized that I was now inside of a barn or shed. Half of the room had been made into a large cage, empty except for a wooden chair in the middle of the room and a pile of rags in the corner. It reminded me of an old jail cell with bars going from the floor to the ceiling.
I jumped to my feet and came face to face with my attacker. It was the angry woman from the market and a boy in his late teens.
"Don't touch me, " I yelled and pushed her away, only to recoil when she pulled out a knife and held it to my throat.
"You're not going anywhere, little girl," she said with an eerie smile. "Bubba's hungry, and it's way past his dinner time."
"Momma, I really don't think that this is a good idea." The teenage boy said nervously.
"Shut-up Teddy, when I want your opinion, I'll ask for it." She snapped and drew the blade across my neck, smiling at the thin line of blood that appeared.
"Well, I'll be. you don't recognize me do you, little girl?" She said with surprise. "let me introduce myself, I'm June Miller, and this is my eldest son Teddy. I'm sure that you remember my youngest Oliver, after all, your family did murder him."
My eyes widened in fear, and with a bitter smile, she pushed the knife in just a little harder, drawing more blood. " Your family took away my baby boy, and now I'm going to take you from them."
"What are you talking about," I whispered in shock. "Oliver was a zombie; he attacked us. Nobody wanted to hurt him."
"Lies," she screamed. "There was nothing wrong with Oliver. He was perfectly fine that day until your mother decided to kill him."
She reached behind me and unlocked the cell door before pushing me inside with an evil smile. "Now, your family will know what it's like to lose a child; it's just too bad that they won't be here to see it happen."
"Momma, please don't do this." Teddy pleaded before she reached out and roughly slapped him across the face.
"Teddy, I've just about had it up to here with you. You're starting to act just like that no-good father of yours." With that, she reached out and patted him on the head with an absent-minded smile. "Now, be a good boy and do as I say, and I'll bake you an apple pie for supper tonight. Also, be sure and clean up the mess after Bubba finishes, you know how messy of an eater your pappy can be."
I waited before she left before turning to Teddy; it was evident that June was completely insane, but maybe with his mom gone, I might be able to talk some sense into Teddy. I glanced across the room; my backpack with my gun safely stowed inside was lying on the floor just a few feet away. But, it might as well be miles with me locked inside this cell and unable to reach it.
"Teddy, you have to let me out," I whispered urgently.
"I'm so sorry," he shook his head regretfully. "Momma would kill me."
My heart sank. "Please, Teddy, just unlock the door, she doesn't have to know that you did it."
"She would know," his gaze dropped to the floor, and he started to turn away. "It's too late anyway now that Pappy is awake."
I heard a shuffling noise from the corner of the cell; apparently, what I had taken for a pile of rags lying on the floor was Teddy's dad.
Urgently I gripped the bars of the cell, " Teddy, please throw me my backpack and at least give me a chance."
He paused at the door, " it won't do any good; Momma already took your gun."
I felt all of the strength leave my legs and gripped the bars tighter, fighting to stay on my feet as he left the room without another word.
"Teddy, you know this isn't right. Please go get help!" I called after him all the while, knowing that it would be too late even if he did go for help.
Swiftly I turned around scanning the cell for something, anything that could be used as a weapon. Luckily for me, Bubba hadn't eaten for a while, so he was extremely slow, but I knew that it would wear off soon when he caught my scent. Zombies who are without food for a while will go into some type of hibernation and only wake up when food is near.
The cell was empty except for the old wooden chair, it wasn't much, but it would have to do. Quickly I smashed the chair against the bars breaking it apart and picking up two of the chair legs to use as a weapon. I slid one chair leg into my back pocket and clutched the other in my right hand. Each chair leg had a hanger bolt at the end of the leg that was used to screw it into the chair, which could if I used enough force be driven through the eye socket of the zombie right into its brain.
This would be a little harder to do on a human being or a new zombie, but as they grow older, zombies also grow weaker and more fragile as their bodies break down and decompose. Of course, this makes them a lot easier to kill, but make no mistake; an aging zombie can still be very dangerous. And all it takes is one little slip on your part to create a brand new zombie.
Bubba shuffled closer, and I almost laughed out loud, as zombie's go, he was old and in very poor/mushy condition. This was going to be a lot easier than I first thought.
I moved back a couple of feet in order to draw him out into the center of the cell. He stood there, swaying almost drunkenly for a couple of moments before shuffling after me. Moving swiftly, I dropped him to the floor with a leg sweep, and almost in one move plunged the chair leg deep into his left eye socket, killing him almost instantly.
I turned at the sound of clapping and saw Grandma standing there with someone; the Sheriff I could tell by his badge and uniform and an angry-looking June Miller who was now in handcuffs.
Grandma unlocked the cell door and winced at all of the gore, covering me, " that wasn't bad at all for your first kill, sweetie, but we need to get you cleaned up because you reek."
June lunged forward but was brought up short by the Sheriff's grip. "I'll see and your whole family in hell, Erica Black, your daughter murdered my baby."
Grandma shook her head sadly, " the poor woman is completely insane, but you'd better keep her locked up, Sheriff. Because if she comes after anyone else in my family, I will end her right there."
"She won't be getting out anytime soon if ever." The Sheriff replied grimly, "I just don't know what the hell I'm going to do with her."
"She must have kept her husband locked up all these years in this cell, how messed up is that?" Grandma remarked.
"In my line of work, you see a lot of strange things, but I have to admit that this ranks right up there as one of the strangest. Bubba Miller was a drunken old son-of-a-bitch, but I don't think that he did anything to deserve that."
I sighed, drawing Grandma's attention back to my discomfort, " Let this be a lesson to you, Kaley, always keep your gun where you can reach it. A zombie isn't going to wait around for you to get it out of your backpack." She said before handing me my gun and backpack.
I winced a little at that, " lesson learned, Grandma, I won't make that mistake again. Now, if you don't mind, I really need a bath."
I turned to leave but paused for a second, " Sheriff, what's going to happen to Teddy?"
" Teddy will be just fine, he has an aunt who lives nearby, and I know she would love to take him in." He said with a reassuring smile.
CHAPTER THREE
We ended up having to rent a room at the local hotel for me to take a bath and wash off all of the zombie goo, so we just spent the night in Summerset. And after a big breakfast
the next morning, the three of us were back on the road in Grandma's old pickup truck.
The sun was already shining brightly, and it was a beautiful summer morning. My unruly ginger hair was in a long braid down my back, and I was wearing my typical attire of dark jeans, combat boots, and a tank top. My gun was in a holster on my hip, and my hunting knife was strapped to my right leg. I'd already been caught once without a weapon, but it wouldn't happen again.
I would have much rather worn something cooler like shorts, but out on the road, jeans provided a little more protection as it is a bit harder for a zombie's teeth to bite through the tougher material.
Grandma was sticking to the country roads instead of venturing into the city where it was less safe. Many of the streets were congested with old abandoned vehicles, which made you an easier target for zombies. After eighteen years, the roads weren't as good as they once were, but Grandma said that they were never as good as they should have been.
Lucas was sitting quietly between us and looking down the road ahead. I wondered what if anything was he thinking, and if I would ever have my twin back the way that he was before. Grandma said that she believed he was in there caught in a battle with the virus, and a couple of times, she'd got the impression that he was more aware of what was going on around him. But was just unable to express it. I hoped that she was right.
I sighed inwardly and felt a little guilty for feeling happy because, despite everything, I was happy. I loved traveling and seeing new places more than anything, and I planned to enjoy every bit of this trip. In a few days, we would be in New Orleans, and hopefully, Celeste LeBlac would be able to help Lucas. Tonight we planned to spend the night with Grandma's old friend, Mary Kirkland, who lived on a farm in Mississippi.
We stopped beside a beautiful lake for lunch, and grandma started a small campfire to boil a pot of water before taking out three pouches of her precious freeze-dried food. And a few minutes later, we added a little boiling water to each bag, and what looked like an unappetizing mixture of croutons, powder, and dried up bits of sausage turned into the most delicious meal of biscuits and gravy that we ate right out of the pouch.
Afterward, we swam in the lake for a while, and while drying off, I drifted off into a light sleep in the warm sunlight before being awakened by something tickling my nose. I opened my eyes to come face to face with a black cat staring at me out of the most beautiful green eyes.
I smiled and rubbed his nose, and he rewarded me with a loud rumbling purr before rolling over for me to rub his tummy.
"It looks like you've found a new friend," Grandma remarked.
"Do you think that we can keep him?" I asked eagerly.
"I'm not sure, Kaley. He probably already belongs to someone, and cats usually don't take well to riding in a vehicle."
"Please, Grandma, at least let me try. Besides, he wouldn't be out here in the middle of nowhere if he already had a home."
Grandma sighed and started packing up the truck, "well, if he wants to come along, he's welcome to do so, but if he doesn't want to, then you're just going to have to accept it."
"It's a deal," I replied happily and finished helping her clean up our campsite and load up the truck.
The minute we were ready to leave, the cat jumped up into the pickup cab and curled up on Lucas' lap for a nap.
I noticed that Lucas actually responded by petting the cat, which was a good sign that he was still in there somewhere.
Grandma smiled a little misty-eyed, " I think that he's going to be good for your brother, but we probably need to give him a name before long."
"Tucker sounds like a good name," I replied and reached out to pet the cat who gave a big stretch and yawned before closing his eyes and instantly going back to sleep.
Grandma laughed, "nobody is better at napping than a cat."
A LITTLE LATER THAT day, we had just driven through a small abandoned town when the pickup started coughing and sputtering.
"That doesn't sound good," Grandma remarked with a frown. " But if I remember correctly, there should be a service station just about a mile down the road."
"Do you think that it's anything serious?" I asked in concern?
"Not really, it's probably something as simple as a spark plug, or possibly it needs a new filter, both of which should be easy enough to come by."
"Half of the sign is missing, so I can't quite make out the name," I remarked when we pulled into the drive of the retro-looking rundown old service station and a small cafe."
" Red Rocket Gas N Go, was a chain of family-owned gas stations/cafes during the 1950s and 60s. By the time of the zombie apocalypse, there were only two left, this one and another one just outside of New Orleans."
I wandered around inside the store area while Grandma was looking through the garage for parts. Inside I found a whole storage room full of bottles of soda. Picking up a dusty bottle of cola, I went back out into the garage, "Hey Grandma, do you think that this cola is any good?"
"As long as it's in a glass bottle, it should be fine." She replied absently while looking through a box of spark plugs.
I grabbed a couple more bottles of cola and wiped all the dust off before popping the top off and taking a cautious sip of the warm soda. "It's not bad, and it even has a little fizz left," I remarked, taking another drink. "The stuff that they make at the market in Summerset is better, though."
Grandma smiled and took a bottle from me, "that's because it's made from better ingredients, and it's not 18-years-old."
She wiped her hands off and closed the hood on the pickup, " the old spark plugs were pretty corroded, but that should take care of it. So if we hurry up, we should still be able to get to Mary's house by supper time."
"Or maybe not," I replied, looking out the garage door. Seemingly out of nowhere, the wind had whipped up, and the temperature had dropped at least 15-20 degrees, and the formerly bright sunny sky was obscured with dark angry-looking clouds.
"It's going to be pouring in a minute," Grandma shouted. " Let's get that garage door closed.
We had just gotten the door closed when the sky let loose with a deluge of rain. "I hope that we don't get a tornado," I said and shivered at the temperature change and my wet clothes.
"Hopefully not, but this old garage looks to be pretty well built, so I think that we're pretty safe inside here."
"From the look of things outside, we're probably going to be here a while, so I might as well change into some dry clothes," I said with another shiver.
The storm raged on throughout the afternoon, and when it became apparent that we were going to have to spend the night, we set up some of Grandma's camping equipment and made ourselves comfortable in the garage. Grandma and I spent the evening playing an old board game that she found in the storeroom. As children, Lucas and I loved playing that game, and I was hoping that he might take an interest in it, but he didn't seem to notice. A little later that evening, I saw that Tucker had curled up in his lap and was happily purring while Lucas petted him.
Around midnight I was awakened from a sound sleep, and as I lay there trying to figure out what had awoken me. I heard what sounded like someone was turning the doorknob on the side door and trying to get into the garage. I sat up and grabbed my gun, Grandma and Lucas were sleeping soundly in their sleeping bags a few feet away, and I wondered for a moment if it was just a dream, but then I noticed that Tucker was wide awake and intently staring at the door.
Quietly I crept across the room and peered out through the slats on the boarded-up window. It was pitch black outside, and without the intermediate flashes of lightning illuminating the landscape, I couldn't see a thing. Just then, there was another flash of lightning, and I was face-to-face with a zombie who was standing just outside the window. Staring into his cold dead eyes was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. And I swear that the blood in my veins actually froze for an instant, leaving me unable to move or even speak. Breaking the spell, I took a step backward but r
ealized that the zombie hadn't seen me when he turned away.
A second later, I felt Grandma's warm hand on my shoulder, and we stood there watching as the zombie who was wearing tattered coveralls seemed to be following some kind of a pattern. First, he would walk up and down the driveway and then back to the door where he would try the knob, and then he would do it all over again.
This went on for the rest of the night. It was a little unnerving and hard for me to sleep with him just outside the door all night. When I would start to drift off to sleep I would hear the doorknob turn again.
Realizing that there was no sleep to be had for us that night, we made a cup of tea and went into the office area, leaving Lucas and Tucker, who was now curled up with him, to sleep in peace.
"That is definitely new behavior," Grandma remarked.
"What do you mean?"
"The way that he seems to be following a pattern of trying the doorknob and walking back and forth between the driveway and the door. It's almost like he retains residual memories left from when he was still alive."
"Is that even possible?" I asked with surprise.
"Maybe, sometimes." Grandma shrugged as we watched the zombie walk back up the driveway to try the doorknob again.
I shuddered and pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. "I don't know how you can be so calm under pressure; zombies completely terrify me. Just the thought that someone who was once a human being could turn into a mindless monster that is filled with an insatiable hunger for human flesh is so horrifying."
Grandma looked at me with sympathy, "I promise you, it does get easier with time. But I'm not going to lie, the heartbreak of seeing someone you care about turned into an abomination like that never truly goes away."
"How did it happen in the first place?"
"I wish that I knew, at least then maybe we would have a chance of fixing it."
I sighed tiredly and rubbed my eyes, " I wish that I was braver like my mom."
"I know that your mom can be a little tough on you at times, but it's only because she's scared that something will happen to you."