by Elle Klass
“And place your phone on the table. You’re not going to be on it with your friends, complaining about how mean we are,” added my mother as I turned on my heel to head to my room.
Reluctantly, I slipped my phone out of my back pocket, laid it on the coffee table, and slunk down the hall. In my room, I pushed the door closed and plopped on my bed. I had no choice but to study for Monday’s test. I dragged my science book out of the backpack resting at the foot of my bed and opened it.
Hours later, I woke. My face planted in the textbook, drool forming in the corners of my mouth. I blinked my eyes then rolled over and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, the fan whirring above my head. The human heart and brain marched through my mind. I shook my head to rid the thoughts, then up-righted myself and grabbed my black nighty trimmed in white lace.
After changing my clothes, I drifted to the window. The sky was dark except for a few blinking stars. Maybe I could go live on an alien planet that didn’t make children learn about anatomy. It was so gross, and next quarter we had to dissect a frog. Yuck! The last thing I wanted to see was amphibian guts -- or any guts.
A thump from the hallway made me jump. I rushed to my door. There was more thumping against the wall. Cracking the door open, I peered into the hallway and gasped. My father walked into the wall repeatedly, an arm hanging from his mouth. Gross! My mother, missing her left arm, limped after him. Double gross! It was her arm dangling from his mouth, the flesh torn as though it had been ripped off. It couldn’t be, I must be dreaming. I pinched my arm. No, I was awake.
A rancid odor wafted up my nostrils -- iron swirled with rotting corpse. I covered my nose to lessen the smell and peered, dumbfounded, out the door again at the spectacle of my parents, their skin void of color. My mother’s eyes darted towards my door. “Mom?” I said, my voice quivering.
She didn’t respond in words, instead her listless limping drag picked up and she was running towards me. My father growled, lifted his head and followed on her heels. The looks in their hollow eyes and the blood dripping from their mouths told me they were goners. I slammed the door shut and locked it. Thinking quickly, I pushed my nightstand in front of the door.
Falling into the corner of my room furthest from the door, I watched in terror as my door shook from the impact of my parents on the other side. Get a grip! I inhaled and exhaled several times, trying to get a handle on the situation. They made me leave my phone so I didn’t have it. Crud! My only option was to sneak past them to get it. I shuddered. That idea was out. If I stayed in my corner, eventually they’d break the door down and I’d become food.
If I climbed out my bedroom window, I could get to the garage. I knew the code and where my dad kept an extra set of keys. Thump, thump. The door was slackening with each hit. There was no time. I opened my window and scanned the neighborhood. Not a soul in sight. I climbed outside and sprinted for the garage. Nervously, I plugged in the code. Darnit! I punched the numbers again and this time the garage door opened.
I sighed, relieved, when I noticed the garage door leading to the house was closed. I locked it for good measure then scrambled to the dryer and reached across the top, fumbling for the key. In a rush, my hand grazed it and it pinged to the ground beneath the dryer. Jeez!
I braced my feet against the cement floor. At that moment I realized my feet were bare. The only thing on my body was my lacy nighty. Great! No time to worry about my clothes. I used all my strength to pull the dryer, gripping it tightly as I slid one side then the other, until it was away from the wall. It was much lighter than I expected and the acrylic wax my dad insisted putting on the concrete floor made it slide easier. The shiny key lay against the cement floor. I picked it up and a thump against the metal of the car sounded behind my back.
Slowly, I turned, expecting to see another walking dead person. At this point, that’s what I assumed my parents had become. They resembled the dead people in 28 Days Later. I put my hand over my heart when I saw my neighbor’s tabby cat. He was always hanging around, but my parents never allowed him in the house. My mom had bad allergies to his fur. His eyes looked normal, so I strode toward him. He purred and curled on the trunk of the car. His behavior told me he was ‘normal’. I reached my hand out and he slipped his head beneath it, rubbing against my palm.
“Boy, it looks like you’re coming with me.” I couldn’t leave him there to become food for however many dead things wandered the night and I was too spooked to check on my neighbors. They could be dead things too, and have the desire to eat me. The silence was eerie and my gut told me to leave.
I opened the car door and laid him on the front seat, noticing my mom’s gym bag on the floorboard. Unzipping it, I fumbled inside and found her shoes then slipped them onto my feet. They fit well enough.
At fourteen, I didn’t know how to drive, but I’d seen my parents do it. It couldn’t be that hard. I stuck the key in the ignition and turned it. The motor sputtered, then caught. I slipped the gearshift into reverse and eased on the gas pedal. Instead of going straight, the car veered to the left and ran into the trash cans sitting alongside the road for tomorrow’s pickup. Trash bags spilled into the street as the car pushed them into the road with me. It looked so much easier when my parents drove.
I looked at the house one last time. It was a simple suburban home with gray concrete siding and white columns surrounding the front entrance. I shifted the car into drive and turned the wheel, although not far enough, as I ran over the freshly cut grass, leaving tracks in the lawn. If my parents weren’t dead, I’d be in so much trouble.
Chapter Two
I didn’t know where I was going, or where I would be safe, but I was extra happy no cars were on the road. It took me a few minutes to get used to driving and I crashed into my fair share of mailboxes and even sideswiped a car. I’m sure the blue paint was all over the passenger side of my mom’s car, but the situation couldn’t be helped. My heart was beating faster than my head was processing. What was happening? Shock. Maybe I was in shock.
On the empty freeway, my head cleared and I thought about the situation. My parents were dead, walking dead people. That made them zombies. Holy fudgeballs. “Holy freakin’ fudgeballs,” I screamed. A few tears puddled in the corners of my eyes and my nose burned as I struggled to keep from crying.
Granted, my parents were angry with me earlier and disappointed in my biology grade, but they were my parents and we had plenty of great times. I was a typical, spoiled, only child and I’d taken that too far with my horrible grade, letting them down and myself. I heaved as regret washed over me. The last words I’d ever have with my parents were ‘I’m sorry. I’ll ask for extra credit.’ How lame! I’d taken them and my picture perfect life for granted.
Wiping my eyes, I pulled myself together. I didn’t have a phone and couldn’t call anyone. I thought of Sarah, my best friend, and wondered if she was zombified too. I had to find out. I veered off I-95 and followed the familiar path into her subdivision, Willow Lakes. Easing the car to a stop in front of her house, I looked both ways then slipped out of the car when I saw nothing.
It was weird, not a soul was anywhere, like I was the only person alive on the planet. I crouched behind the bushes near her room and peeked through the curtains. The full moon illuminated it enough for me to see through the small gap where the curtains met. She lay on her bed asleep, so I tapped on the window. Her head twisted towards the window and I fell backwards, scrambled onto my feet and ran. Blood poured from her mouth, her deep brown eyes now hollow and lifeless. Her beautiful ebony skin now pale and ashen. No, not Sarah! my brain screamed.
I ran to the car and, without thinking, jumped inside. I wanted away from the dreadful sight of my best friend, now a zombie. Inside the car, I took a deep breath and collected myself. I hit the lock button, listening for all four doors to click. Then I realized that maybe I should have checked the backseat before jumping inside the car. Darn teenage impulsivity!
Seeing too many horror m
ovies, and knowing someone was always waiting in the back seat, I whipped my head to the left. No need to waste time, if a zombie was lingering behind me I’d rather meet them head on than allow them to munch on my neck before I could attempt to protect myself. The backseat was clear except my neighbor’s tabby cat. He looked at me and purred.
The street lights shone on something silver in the backseat, beneath a pile of mail. Pushing the mail out of the way, I found it was a set of keys. I jiggled them and a blue plastic tag fell against my hand, Earnest Earl. Dad’s boat! I hadn’t thought of the boat.
I closed my eyes and mapped the way to the marina. When I opened my eyes, a group of zombies shuffled towards me. Where did they come from? I questioned, but didn’t have time to figure it out. Maybe they had heightened olfactory receptors and smelled me? My brain was thinking anatomy again!
Annoyed and scared, I cranked the motor and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The car plowed forward, hitting the lead zombie. It thumped, flew, and slid beneath the car. More zombies hit the car; body parts and blood covered the windshield.
I fumbled with the dash, depressing buttons, looking for the wipers. Once I found them and turned them on, they swiped away the blood, leaving streaks on the windshield. Stuck in the pasty, bloodied streaks were little black dots. I looked closer, squinting my eyes. They were lovebugs; horrible little insects rumored to be created in a lab at the University of Florida to control the mosquito population in the state. Twice a year, spring and fall, they marred every vehicle on the road and were a complete nuisance. I was thinking science again! And the thoughts kept coming. The heart pumps blood throughout the body. Did the zombies’ hearts still work? Did I kill them?
Slamming on the brakes, I wanted to know. I turned the car around, hitting the side of a truck’s bumper as I did. I drove by slowly. The body parts were still moving, and a couple whole zombies struggled to get to their feet. So how do I kill them?
With the car running, I considered my options and owned up to my morbid curiosity about them. I rifled through the contents of my mom’s car. No weapons. Disappointed, but not stupid, I turned and ran over the zombies struggling to get up and turned around again, the car thumping over their wriggling bodies and crunching away at their bones. I got back onto I-95 and headed towards the Marina.
Where did the zombies come from? Was there anyone else besides myself that was not a zombie? Crap, Jacksonville, Florida is the biggest city in the U.S. There should be people somewhere. On second thought, it was the biggest city, but under-populated. Any who, people should be somewhere.
When I reached the marina, I shut my lights off just in case it attracted zombies and pulled into the parking lot. I scanned the area. Something bobbed up and down from behind a wooden crate. Narrowing my eyes, I studied it and was sure it was a person, but wasn’t sure if it was a zombie. I had no weapons except for the car. Thus far, it worked sufficiently to disable zombies.
I backed out of my space and cruised near the bobbing person, but I still couldn’t tell. I cut off the engine and waited with all the doors locked. I was in no hurry, except my stomach was complaining because I’d skipped dinner. The cat jumped onto my lap and rubbed against my chest.
That provided another wave of thought. I didn’t eat, maybe the food at our local market was poisoned or carrying a virus. Darn, science again! I eased my seat back and waited, but I still couldn’t tell. Maybe it wasn’t a person at all, but an animal or something blowing in the breeze.
The sun peeked over the horizon. I wiped away my fear, grabbed my mom’s heavy gym bag as a weapon and stepped out of the vehicle, leaving the cat inside, both sets of keys clutched in my fist. I stepped closer to the object and took a deep breath as I peered around the side of the crate. A shovel was thrust against my chin.
“Holy crap. I’m alive, don’t hurt me,” I screamed. “And you’re alive!”
“Shh. You won’t be for long. Your screaming will alert them.” The young man lowered the shovel and grabbed my hand, pulling me down behind the crate.
I didn’t recognize him, but he looked older; maybe a junior or senior. His long, chestnut hair stuffed into a quick-minute ponytail. His green eyes softened as he whispered: “By the looks of your wardrobe,” his eyes scanned my lacy nighty, “you’re escaping zombies too.”
Normally, I might have been embarrassed, but today I was glad to be alive. “Look, if we can get to my dad’s boat we can get out of here.” Straight and to the point - that was me. I didn’t have time for small talk when walking dead people could be lurking. I also didn’t think it wise to waste time on small talk and hugging. That’s when stupid movie people always got killed.
He peeked over the crate. “Where’s your dad’s boat?”
“Here somewhere.” I shrugged.
“That’s a lot of help. Maybe you didn’t notice, but this is a marina and there’s at least fifty boats.”
I sighed.
“Do have anything to fight with?” he asked, his lips in a straight line.
“No, I’ve been using the car to plow over them.”
He looked around and picked up a piece of metal. “It’s not much, but you’ll have to make it work.”
What the heck? His eyes grew grim and I heard the distinct shuffling of zombies. Oh crap!
Chapter Three
“What’s this?” I asked, taking the shiny metal object from him. He narrowed his eyes. “It’s what I killed my family with to escape.”
I gulped and said no more. How could I complain, even though I’d have to get real close to kill them. “Thank you.” A weapon was a weapon, and it would probably do more harm than my mom’s gym bag.
“Make sure you stab them in the head.”
In the head. Stupid thing to question, since the brain controlled the body, but what about the heart? As an involuntary muscle, wouldn’t it keep pumping, even with an injured brain, unless I stabbed the part of the brain that controlled the heart? I thought quickly, my mind reviewing all the anatomy lessons that I willfully ignored. Then I remembered, to my surprise, the brainstem. If I could stuff this shiny, metal, spiked object into their brainstems I’d kill them.
The zombies’ paces quickened as they saw us through clouded eyes. He ran ahead, smashing their skulls with his shovel, as I ran towards a zombie outside the horde. It reached its arms towards me and I took advantage of my human agility and spun around it, stuffing the metal object into the back of its skull. It dropped to the ground, its body jerking in spasms, then it stopped.
More shuffled towards me. Luckily their movements were stiff, as if in partial rigor mortis. I spun and stabbed one in the head, pulled my weapon out, then stuck another in the back of the skull. I spun in circles, too fast for them, and gouged into their craniums and brainstems one after another, until a pile of dead zombies surrounded me. The movements seemed natural in a way I couldn’t explain. It was my life or theirs. I felt a tinge of remorse, but there was no time to dwell on it.
“Not bad,” he said, eyeing my conquests. “Zombie Girl, we need to move.”
I sighed, eyeing his pile. It wasn’t as impressive as mine and the shovel made far messier dead zombies. “We need to find my dad’s boat, Earnest Earl.”
“I’d say you can handle yourself, so you go right and I’ll go left. We meet back here in twenty minutes.”
“You want to split up?” I questioned. Since we had just killed a dozen or so zombies, there could be more near.
He drew in a deep breath, “We can cover more ground, and I think the coast is clear for now. You can holler, right?”
“Yeah, I can, very loudly. I gotta grab my cat first.”
“Your cat?”
“My neighbor’s cat. I can’t leave it.”
He shook his head.
My heart racing and my senses on overdrive, I clenched my weapon at every little noise I heard, but there wasn’t a zombie in sight. Clutching the cat with my other hand, I searched for my dad’s boat. The cat didn’t argue as
his bottom half fell below my arms, instead he purred as if he also knew this was his only chance for safety.
Searching for the boat was like finding a mouse in a barn. He had a nondescript white twenty-footer. Why wasn’t it red or blue, something that stuck out? Approximately fifteen minutes later, after identifying every white boat in the marina while watching my back, I found it.
As I climbed on board, the cat scrambled against my chest and leaped onto the deck. I searched for him and called “Kitty,” but he’d found a hiding place. I climbed up the ladder to the top deck. I had no desire to go back and hoped I could get my companion’s attention from where I stood. I waved my arms back and forth over my head.
He spotted me on the top deck. I guess my nighty stood out. He ran forward, a string of zombies on his tail. I scurried down and prepped the boat for a hasty departure. I untethered and pulled up the anchor. I’d watched my father do it and, since it was fully motorized, it was a simple process. Cranking the motor, I figured the basic mechanics couldn’t be too much different than driving a car, the motor sputtered to life.
He jumped, catching the side of the boat, as I found the lever that powered it forward. We sped away from the dock, zombies falling into the water after him. Clutching the edge, he pulled his body over the side and collapsed onto the deck. The rush of zombies fell into the water like dominoes.
Several minutes later, he joined me. “Do you even know how to drive this thing?”
“No, but you’re alive. A thank you would suffice.”
He twisted his lips. “Thank you, even though you left me clinging for my life.”
“You’re welcome. You have a name?”
“Bryce.” His eyes flashed ahead of us. “The river gets narrow in parts and your driving already scares me. I can maneuver a boat anywhere and know the intercoastal pretty well. I can get us into the open ocean safely.”