Graveyard: A Stay Dead short story collection

by Steve Wands

  Every minute.

  Every second.

  From here on out.

  Lorraine sat down on the couch in the living room adjacent to the kitchen. She coughed and pulled a small blanket over her shoulders. She invited Danielle over to join her. Danielle did. They sat next to each other, quietly. Behind them was a large window. The shades were drawn and the curtains closed. To the other side, the one closest to the kitchen, was another couch, a larger one, and across from that was a large coffee table. It had a few magazines on it, duct tape, a hammer and a mason jar full of nails. Across from the coffee table against the wall before the hallway was an old wooden entertainment center. The television sat in the center with a VCR above it and movies to the left and right. There was an empty fishbowl with rocks at the bottom and loose change more than halfway to the top, mostly pennies and nickels. Clem always stole the quarters for coffee. They talked for a stretch, mostly random things–what school she attended, where she was from, and Danielle asked as many questions as she answered. They all looked tired, and Lorraine was the first to say it. She wanted to go to bed. She wanted to wake up and have this nightmare be over with. Danielle said she was tired as well, and if Clem didn’t mind, she would check out the apartment.

  “Remember sweetheart, if you don’t feel comfortable, you just come right back here, OK?” Lorraine said with a tired smile.

  “Don’t worry about that.”

  Clem peered out the door, checking for trouble. There hadn’t been any yet. They were in a very safe and remote part of the building. It was highly unlikely that anything or anyone would be able to get to them. The roof was questionable, but all the more unlikely. Danni had seen them walk pretty fast–some could even still run–but she had never seen any jump. They crept out of the doorway, Lorraine just behind, closing the door to a crack. Clem opened the other door. They walked in and he closed it. Lorraine kept her end open. She wasn’t as cautious as Clem and didn’t see the need to lock it just yet. Once inside, Danielle felt scared and nervous. Clem showed her around. The setup was exactly the same as Clem’s apartment, though not as neat and orderly. There were toddler toys strewn about. The place looked ransacked, but Clem assured her that it was just because they left in a hurry. As soon as the news broke, the tenants had headed to their folks place. Danielle wished she had done the same. Clem showed her around the apartment and wrapped up his tour in just a few minutes. He assured Danielle that there was plenty of food, enough for a few weeks at the very least. There weren’t a whole lot of liquids, but somehow they still had water, juice boxes and plenty of wine. Clem, a few days after the town went to shitsville, had filled up whatever jugs and mason jars he could find and filled them up with water. There had also been a large number of powdered drink mixes, a few bottles of alcohol, and some kids’ juice box cases in one of the closets. All in all, things could be worse.

  Clem assured Danielle that if she needed anything, if she didn’t feel comfortable, no matter what time it was she could come back and stay with them. She nodded and thanked him and kept her door open until he was safely inside his apartment again. Lorraine and Danielle locked eyes for a moment, exchanging a look that was somewhat maternal and intrinsic in human nature at times like these. Although to Danielle’s knowledge, there had never been times like these. They both closed their doors and Danielle locked hers, put her back against it and slumped to the ground.

  The apartment was dark, but she had a flashlight that Clem had left with her and she had an assortment of candles waiting to be lit on the countertop in the kitchen just steps away from where she sat. She was thinking–trying to come up with some sort of plan, as utterly useless as it would be–instead of breaking down and crying, which is all she really wanted to do right now. She felt the onset of tears in the wells of her deep, dark brown eyes, but she held them back and picked herself up off the ground. She lit the candles and spaced them out a bit so she could get a better look at the whole place. She cleared off the kitchen table, which was a small set that could seat four, and she deemed that this is where she was going to start piling up things that might be useful.

  She timidly walked around into the living room, spotlighting a picture here, a toy there, a rickety television stand with what looked to be coffee or red wine stains. She continued to creep down the hall, peering into the large sliding door closets on the left. To her right a door. It was the child’s bedroom. She couldn’t go in there. The thought of going into the child’s room bothered her. She convinced herself that the folks who lived here were walking around dead somewhere, and the thought of being in a dead child’s room turned her blood to ice. She waved the light a few times in the room and then proceeded to the end of the hall. Danni entered the bathroom instead. To the left of that was a closet. She cautiously looked in all directions, scattering the dim light from her flashlight from wall to ceiling to floor. She looked around the messy bathroom: toothpaste caked the rim of the sink, the soap dish was shattered on the floor, the tiling was loose and the paint was peeling. The mirror was cleaned maybe a month ago, and her reflection looked ragged. She opened the medicine cabinet. Inside were bandages, a brand new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste, and an old beaten up half eaten bottle of antacids next to a bottle of expired ibuprofen tablets filled the shelves. She quickly snatched it all, cradled it into her free arm and quickly made her way to the kitchen table. She gently dumped it and quickly turned back toward the bathroom. Nearly tripping over a squeaky toy, she steadied herself on the television, took a deep breath and kept on her way. Once back in the bathroom, she double-checked the medicine cabinet–hair ties, cough syrup, a toenail clipper and a lingering toenail. She grabbed everything but the clipper and the nail, stuffing the items into her back pocket. She then knelt down and opened up the cabinets below the sink. It was a double-door, pulp wood cabinet, very no frills, with a child safety latch. She found an empty mousetrap and roach motels in each corner. There was bleach, an array of cleaners, a four-pack of toilet paper (with a roll missing), two bars of soap, a half-empty case of cotton tips, cotton balls, some scouring pads and a nasty old plunger. Gathering it in multiple trips, she noticed that the kitchen table was filling up quickly and her plan was making less sense. It became more of an exercise, more of a search. She was trying to figure out what to do next, and she shrugged off the thought that she didn’t know what to do and where to go. She had to do something that made sense to her. Gathering things into a single area made sense.

  Danielle continued to gather items from the apartment. They mostly consisted of clothes, which belonged to the former lady of the house. She had yet to visit the child’s room. She avoided looking at any pictures of the family. She felt a pang of guilt hit her when she came across photos of them, as if she was robbing their graves. But they didn’t say anything to her. They continued to smile. They were stuck in time, a better time–and they watched as Danni rummaged through their underwear drawers. A pack of matches here, a belt there­–she gathered the remotes she found in the apartment, taking the batteries out. She found a Walkman with no headphones. She found tape and tools and brought them all to the kitchen table, which served as her little base of operations. She was tired, hours into this and now she was void of energy. She went into the cabinets in the kitchen; there was a bunch of packaged goods. She grabbed a sack of pretzels and a can of fruit and started nibbling on the pretzels as she opened the fridge. The overwhelmingly rank scent of expired milk filled the air and she nearly gagged on her pretzel. Grabbing a pack of juice boxes, holding her breath, she swung her ass into the door, turning her back to it. Danni let the air back into her lungs and walked back to her table junkyard.

  Danni drank half the pack of kid’s juice. Though her tongue and lips were now blue, the sugar didn’t give her any more gusto than what she had before. She felt a bit more refreshed, but her eyes fought to close. She wasn’t against the idea of sleep, but was afraid to let her guard down. She was also afraid that the friends she left to die on the rooft
op would find her in her dreams. She was convinced there was nothing she could do to help them. She was also convinced she was a coward for not trying. She had just run away, like she had done many times in her life. Even now, whether she knew it or not, Danni was preparing to run, this time without a destination. She just wanted to run away–wherever away was had to be better, or at least so she thought. Shoving a handful of pretzels into her mouth, Danni picked up the flashlight and went into the bathroom. She tried the water; it was still on and was warm. She pulled off her shirt and put it over the door. It was still damp. She had a small lizard tattoo underneath her bra strap, tail pointing toward her shoulder and its head cocked toward her face. Rinsing off the soap thoroughly in the warm water, she then washed her face. She closed her eyes and gently lathered her face and neck. A few drops of soapy water trickled down her neck, passing her collarbone, racing down to her breasts. Cupping her hands to fill with water she leaned into the sink and splashed her face with the water. It was refreshing. She did it again, and once more. On the last one, she held her hands to her face–eyes wide open. She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment and grabbed the guest towel off the rack. Gently padding her face and neck dry, she hung the towel over her shoulder, took her flashlight and walked into the couple’s room. She made her way back to former lady’s side of the closet, where she grabbed a long-sleeve shirt and a regular t-shirt. She also went back into the lady’s dresser drawers, looking for a new set of underwear and perhaps some lounge pants or sweats. Danni found the sweats in the first drawer. She grabbed a pair of dark grey pants with a black stripe down the legs. She now rummaged through the bras and panties, not entirely convinced they’d fit right. She stripped down entirely. The flashlight illuminated her frail thin body in the darkness. She was athletic but more thin than fit. She had a scar over her nipple, a small one and not really noticeable except on close examination. She had a few freckles south of her belly button, and a thin short strip of hair below that. She grabbed a bra out of the drawer. It was dark brown, with pink frilly lace on the top of the cups. She tried it on. It was a bit tighter than she expected, but it fit. She kept it on and looked for something fitting to wear below. She tried on a similar set of bottoms. They fit, but sagged a bit. She would wear them if she had to, but continued looking. The next pair practically fell off and the one after that was just as loose as the first. A few more and she came to the conclusion that the lady of the house had a bigger ass than she. Danni kept the first pair on. Then she put on her new sweats, which were loose as she expected, her long-sleeve shirt was next, followed by the short-sleeve shirt over that. She pulled off her wet socks. They were filthy. Taking the towel she wiped off her feet. Finding the sock drawer, she grabbed a pair of ankle socks, white with a red strip across the toes, and pulled them on–perfect fit. She looked across the dresser, waving the flashlight back and forth. She found a few hair ties and slipped them onto her wrist.

  Back in front of the closet she put the flashlight on the bed. Sitting down, Danni put her head down and threw it back up, throwing her hair up and putting one of the hair ties in place with one fluid motion. She now had a ponytail. She peered into the bottom of the closet, examining, then rummaged through the sneakers and shoes, flip flops, sandals, boots and slippers. She put on the slippers and grabbed a few sneakers. Into the living room she followed the light from her flashlight and found the couch. She sat down and tried on the sneakers, which she figured were about a half size too big. She put them off to the side and slid her slippers back on. She went back into the room and pulled the blanket off the bed. Danni threw it onto the couch. It landed half on and half off. She continued back into the kitchen. Walking around now as if she’d lived there awhile, Danni walked toward the row of candles. With her flashlight on, she blew them out, and made her way to the couch once again. She nuzzled up under the blanket with a small couch pillow under her head and the flashlight in her hand close to her chest. She stared at the dark entertainment center. Her eyes began to play tricks and her eyelids kissed. She turned off the flashlight and sleep came soon.

  She slept through what was left of the night, until Clem knocked on the door. Startled, she jumped to her feet, nearly tripping on the blankets as they fell to her feet.

  “It’s me, Clem.”

  “Hey, Clem. Everything okay?” Danni asked, opening the door.

  “Yeah, yeah, well you know, as good as it can be, considering. Just wanted to let you know that we made a big breakfast, fresh coffee if you want,” he said, smiling.

  “Oh, that sounds great. Just let me grab my sneakers.”

  “Sure.”

  Danni bounced out the door and she and Clem headed across the hall. She could smell eggs and toast, and the scent of coffee filled the hall. Danni walked in and when she saw the kitchen table all set up and ready to eat, her jaw hit the floor. Lorraine closed and locked the door after they walked in. She pushed them over to the table, saying, “eat up.” They would’ve gladly done so without the order. Clem, Lorraine, and Danni ate with vigor. Sunlight was creeping into the house through the drawn curtains and closed shade, making Lorraine’s scrambled eggs look that much more golden. Danni dropped a scoop of eggs onto a piece of buttered toast, folded it in half, bit it, and washed it down with hot coffee, black and sweet, just the way she liked it. It also happened to be the only way she could get it. The milk went bad last week. Clem was chomping down some bacon, and Lorraine was salting her eggs and sipping her coffee. After breakfast they talked for a bit, and Danni asked Clem if she could get to the roof. Not knowing why she wanted to, and not really caring, Clem showed her. Lorraine didn’t follow; she was terrified to go outside. Her granddaughter was one thing, but a town gone mad was something she’d rather forget altogether and just as soon never see.

  Clem led the way to the roof. Once they got to the door, he paused, held his ear to it–barely breathing–and listened. Danni just tried to keep her breathing quiet but she was nervous as hell and had adrenaline pumping through her system. Believing it to be safe, Clem opened the door a crack, slowly peering out, keeping his weight balanced and his head on a swivel. He kept opening the door, slowly still, revealing more of the morning sky. There was dew on the roof and a chill in the air. Finally, Clem opened the door fully, but, trying not to expose himself too much, he stayed at a crouch. Danni was right behind him, mimicking his motions. She understood what he was doing and why. She didn’t want to advertise their whereabouts either. Nothing on the roof, although a few lurking ghouls were noticeable on the roofs of nearby buildings. Their roof was clear for now. The dead seemed different today–slower, lazier, she thought, and Clem seemed to think the same thing. They both crept to a concealed edge of the roof and peered over the ledge. Some of the dead were sitting, others staggering around. They were very spread out and not at all in the numbers they had been last night. Danni thought out loud that they must be in the buildings. Clem pointed at an open window across the street to confirm it. There were a few lurkers stumbling around in what looked like someone’s living room. In the street were wrecked cars, some smoldering and others parked neatly. Some looked brand new like they would start up and drive Danni to safety. In the distance she could see her friends’ car and how it stood little chance of making it through the small jumble of vehicles. Perhaps if the group had a large truck they could’ve simply smashed through.

  She wanted to know if they could still run; did rigor mortis affect these things, were they still alive? They looked almost peaceful–grotesque, nightmarish, but peaceful. They didn’t look angry, just dead. Danni doubted they were peaceful, and wasn’t up for finding out. Clem wanted to go back inside and Danni wasn’t going to argue. She went back into Clem’s place and sat by the window peering out. She didn’t see a single one of them run, not one of the sitters get up, and only a few crept out from around the side of a building. Danni went back to what she referred to as her place. Lorraine saw to it that she got in the door, and she and Clem went to check up
on their granddaughter, Josie. They opened the door and as usual the dead little girl started rustling about, pumping her hand from a fist to a bent-fingered claw. Her legs kicked and she tried to lift her head. Her actions were in vain. Her grandfather chained her down good.

  “Now, now girlie, it’s only me and your grandmother, settle down,” Clem spoke soothingly.

  It didn’t matter how soothing his voice was, though. He was only meat to her. A primal instinct of consumption was all the little girl had left. Lorraine couldn’t manage to speak, only whimper and cry. Her hands shook, she so desperately wanted to hold her granddaughter close, hug her and make her laugh. It took all her strength to not run up and hug her, or rip her from her chains and get her ready for bed. Josie had just turned nine a few weeks ago, and all Lorraine could think of was seeing her wear her pointy little blue hat and clapping her hands as she blew out the candles on her birthday cake. She’d do anything to go back to that day. But she couldn’t. She had to look at her granddaughter’s squirming body and know that she would never be the same. They kept her chained up all the same–just in case the next time they open the door to check on her, they would realize it had all just been a dream.

  Danni stood back at her table of junk holding the Walkman. She checked the batteries, and they were in it, double As to be precise. She then looked through all the other electronics and took the batteries out and put them in one pile. She then went back through the apartment, looking for a set of headphones for the Walkman. She decided to go into the kid’s room. She searched high and low. No headphones–more batteries, but no headphones. Discouraged, she put the Walkman back into her pile of junk. She scratched her head. Sitting back on the couch, she covered herself up and stared at the blank television. Fuck it, she thought, tossing the blankets back to the floor. She went into the hall and tried to open the storage door but it was locked. She knocked on Clem and Lorraine’s door and Clem answered.