“That really can’t be good,” Becky said almost under her breath. It looked like the entire city of Buffalo – which was about eight or nine miles from where they were on River Road – was in flames.
“What are we gonna do?” Jill asked.
“We’re going there, and that’s that,” Becky answered and gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I have to make sure my parents are alright.”
Jill said nothing. She had no parents of her own here to make sure they were alive. She had no one here but the dead boyfriend whose body she had left behind to be consumed by the dead. It made no difference to her where they were headed. She was sure her time was up on this damned planet. She let out a long sigh and sunk back into the seat.
***
They made it to Grover Street just after six o’clock in the evening and Becky feared what she would find in her parent’s house. The neighborhood around Grover Street looked like a warzone, with crashed and abandoned cars blocking most of the way out to the major highways surrounding the area.
When they pulled into the street where her folks lived, a siren sounded off somewhere not too far away. It had to be the fire stations four streets over, but it wasn’t the usual screeching one that blared from the trucks. This was most likely to signal an emergency.
Two cars left the driveway of the third house, the dark blue ranch style where Mr. and Mrs. Oberman lived. Mr. Oberman’s parents lived in Florida, and if she had to guess, they were heading for the airport.
Was Florida safe? Were the dead down there too? Who knew?
Another car pulled into the road behind them and flashed the lights. Its driver sped up, got to their side, and rolled the window down. The man inside yelled, “Get the hell out, while you can.” Then rolled the window back up and passed them, knocking one of the mailboxes in its way.
“What a lunatic,” Becky said and saw her house. The car was still in the driveway.
“He’s right,” Jill added.
Becky ignored this little tidbit and pulled right behind her parent’s brand-new Dodge pickup.
“Everything looks alright,” Jill observed as nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary.
Becky thought so too, but she felt that something was off. With everyone leaving the area or looking out on them from behind their curtains, there seemed to be no movement at her parent’s place. Her mother was always the first one to come to the window and see who just pulled in, and that would happen within mere three or four seconds of someone coming over.
Not this time.
Becky killed the engine and got out of the car.
“Mom? Dad?” Becky called as she walked up to the side door and saw that it was cracked open. Still, no one came out to greet her, or at least drag her inside, like she expected her neurotic mother to do. “Anyone home?”
Her heart beat faster as she reached for the handle and swung the door open. There was a foul odor coming from the inside and instead of the welcoming voices or the sound of television playing, there were low and guttural gurgles.
“Everything alright?” Jill whispered behind her and placed her hand on her shoulder.
“I don’t think so,” Becky answered and shook her head. “I’m worried,” she said as she stepped in. Her mind raced, coming up with different scenarios, drawing on a number of canvases of outcomes and each one was more morbid than the others. Someone was in there and it wasn’t mom and dad. At that moment, she hoped they were somewhere else, far away from here. Anywhere but here. She heard the snarls again, they were coming from the living room; sounds of tearing and hungry chewing.
The knife was in the car, she remembered, and it was pointless to go back now as she was already stepping into the kitchen, and there was a knife rack on the counter, right next to the sink.
Turning to Jill, she put her index finger to her nose, signaling her to be quiet. Looking toward the doorway that led into the living room and dining room areas, she reached for the rack holding several different kinds of cutlery and pulled the biggest one out. It was her mother’s brand-new set, most likely not even used yet.
A shadow appeared onto the floor, slowly growing larger.
Becky raised the newly acquired weapon and shuffled across the polished linoleum and put her back to the wall. She put her other hand up, telling Jill to stay where she was. Jill nodded and Becky watched her swallow hard as she prepared for what was about to happen.
The undead were definitely in the house, at least one of them, and by the sound of its groans it was right there behind the wall. She heard it drag its feet over the hardwood floor and then there was the telltale expression on Jill’s face: the zombie had noticed her standing there and immediately lunged.
Before it could get further into the kitchen, Becky grabbed the dead man by the shirt and stabbed the knife through the back of his head. The blood that covered her hand was still relatively warm, so this man had to have died within last couple of hours.
She pulled the knife out and shot a reassuring look to Jill as the body hit the floor.
It was Mr. Dwyer, from next door, Becky discovered as she stared at the corpse in disbelief. How was it possible for him to turn this far from Love Canal, unless this plague of sorts was airborne? And if it was airborne, she and Jill would be turning as well. There was a possibility for an incubation or gestation period. They could be carrying it in their blood and die eventually, then reanimate. Multitude of scenarios ran through her head as she stared quizzically at the dead next-door neighbor.
Rick Dwyer used to drive her and his daughter Mandy to track meets. His family was over for several Thanksgivings and the past three Christmases were spent over at their house.
“That was too close for comfort,” Jill said as she came closer and looked and observed the lifeless body.
Becky wondered where his wife Martha was, but that wasn’t of utmost importance at the moment. Her parents were.
The feeling of dread settled in, crawled up her back and sent a shiver down her spine as she thought of her mother and father. Deep down she knew they were dead. What was Mr. Dwyer doing here if they were gone?
Reluctantly, she walked through the doorway into the living room and to her sheer horror, saw her parents lying down over each other, entangled, their arms and necks half eaten away. There was a large puddle of blood around them. They were practically swimming in it.
Her knees buckled and she dropped her knife and tried to maintain her balance. Finally, she squatted by the giant DVD rack and covered her mouth with her bloody hands.
First Tom, and now … the rest of the family. The feeling of loneliness slowly sunk in her stomach, like a rock to the bottom of the ocean.
Everyone was gone.
In one day, in a blink of an eye, she was left all alone.
She stared at the mangled bodies as a grim confirmation that now she was on her own and it was live or die. Maybe death was the most reasonable and viable option. Her life as she knew it was gone, destroyed, and the world on the outside was heading straight to Hell.
“Becky,” Jill said as she stood next to her. Her voice was distant, the voice of a woman she had only met that morning and, at the moment, her only companion she could count on, if that was of any consolation. “I’m really sorry. Shit, I know that doesn’t even cover it, and saying it is just a custom, a habit at this point … but, I’m really, truly sorry.”
“Yeah,” Becky said, her hands still covering her mouth. “Yeah…” Her own voice sounded muffled, filled with pain and sorrow.
Was it the stench of Mr. Dwyers’ corpse in the kitchen that was making her want to vomit or the fact that the people who brought her into this world were contorted and eaten alive only a few feet away from her?
She got on all fours and started crawling but Jill stopped her. “No, don’t do that please,” she said and restrained her. “It’s not a good idea.”
“But I need to hold them one more time. I need to say goodbye.” Becky was now crying, any strength she ha
d left freely leaving her body. “I just want to touch them.”
“No,” Jill begged her. “Please. You don’t know what’s…”
And then the woman that was once her mother slowly lifted her head and looked at her direction, but whether or not she was staring directly at Becky was anyone’s guess. Her eyes had lost their natural color, the luster, now becoming more gray than brown. But this didn’t matter to Becky, because she was showing signs of life. No, it wasn’t life, she was dead, Becky thought, but wasn’t sure at this point.
“Mom?” she said and reached out with one hand.
“No, Becky,” Jill grabbed her hand then pushed her back toward the wall, away from the mangled corpses.
The woman let out a long, painful moan and started flailing her arms in the air, trying to break free. But she was pinned down, her legs wrapped up in her husband’s. Jill reached for the knife and held it close to her chest. Becky noticed and shot her a questionable look.
“We have to,” Jill said. “They’re not them anymore, I know you understand this. You’re in shock right now. But we either take care of them or we leave and don’t come back. But we should be leaving anyways because if they got to your folks, this place will be crawling with the dead in a matter of hours. I’m surprised more of them haven’t busted through the door yet.”
Becky wasn’t even listening anymore. It was the same thing over and over again; just the thing they had covered several times so far; about how if the people die then come back to life, they’re no longer people. Same old, tired, repetitive shit.
“I just want to be here for a little while longer,” Becky finally said.
“Alright.”
Jill let go of her and Becky slumped back against the shelf with a few dozen film titles. “I never got a chance to say goodbye to them.”
“Well, it’s not like anyone planned this. Don’t put this on yourself.” Jill was most likely trying to be supportive and helpful, but to Becky it all sounded cold and factual. What she needed right now was Tom, her goofy brother, to put his arm around her and make her smile. She needed to hear him crack stupid and inappropriate jokes and make her forget about the shit storm raging on the outside. Oh, and bring back mom and dad. Yeah, that would help too.
“They asked me to come over today,” Becky said. “She called me last night and asked me to come over and have dinner here, but I told her I had plans. Told her I might stop by later in the day and I had no intention of coming over. How shitty is that?”
Jill finally sat on the floor and scooted closer to her, their knees touching. Becky knew she did this so she could get a hold of her in case she tries to do anything stupid. “Again, you didn’t know. I know it’s not a really comforting statement right now, but you’re being hard on yourself and very unfair. This has been a shitty day, no one will deny that. You’re in a state of shock … shit, we both are. But just a couple of hours ago, it was you who dragged me away from that damned place and stopped me from ending my life right then and there. So that’s why I’m here. I owe you and I want to return the favor.”
“I just can’t bear looking at them like this, but I need to. I need to see them, be with them again.”
“I know and I wish none of this had happened. Who knows, it really might be the end of days or some shit. But, if it had to come to this, I’m glad I ran into someone like you and your brother. You’re great people, honestly, I mean that.”
And now her father started showing signs of movement as he turned his head around and at first stared at the bloody floor then at her and Jill. Blood poured out of his mouth as he let out a moan of anguish. Compared to her mother, he was a bit livelier and somewhat more aggressive.
“I want to do it,” Beck said and reached for Jill’s hands.
“Are you sure?” Jill asked.
“I’m sure.”
“Alright, as you wish.”
“The least I can do is not to be a coward and end their suffering. They’d want me to do it.”
“I agree. You’re right.” Jill handed her the knife.
She took it without looking, got up and walked over where the last remnants of her immediate family laid tangled up in each other. The closer she got to them, the more riled up they got. Her father broke free first, but before he could grab her, she brought the knife down through the top of his head. She heard the skull crack, the brain split apart.
Then came her mother. She wore her white quarter sleeve cardigan Tom bought her for her last birthday. It was now drenched in red. As she crawled toward her, she slipped in the blood and fell face first.
“I’m sorry,” Becky said quietly and slowly placed the knife to the back of her head. She put in half an inch first, then continued going down until the entire blade disappeared in her skull. “I’m really sorry it came to this,” Becky said, then pulled out the knife and threw it aside. It skidded across the floor until it hit the wall.
“Do you want to leave now?” Jill asked. Her voice was mellow, understanding, patient; it had been all along, she just heard it differently at first, that very moment she saw her parents butchered.
“Yeah,” Becky sighed. “We should grab what we can first. Food, anything we can use as a weapon. I know there’s a gun in the safe upstairs. Maybe it’s unlocked. Who knows?”
“Alright, let’s do that.”
Becky got back to her feet and heard her knees crack. Everything ached and this day was like a speed train with no break in sight. She looked at her parents one last time and wished that the circumstances were different. She wanted them back. She wanted Tom back. If she could have one wish granted, that would be it. She’d give anything, pay any price just to have them with her, but realizing and accepting the fact that it wasn’t plausible was the first step to coping with it.
“I love you both, the whole world with a fence around it.” She blew them a kiss and walked into the kitchen where Jill waited for her at the fridge.
***
They packed a backpack and one side pack, the one Becky used to carry her laptop in college, full of food. Any canned goods they could salvage from the two pantries the house had, they took them. Jill did her best to keep them going, to keep Becky’s mind from breaking because what the girl had seen merely an hour ago would break the toughest of minds and hearts. Sure, her heart had to be shattered in a million pieces, but the girl was hanging in there. She was tough. And it looked like she came from a good home, something she never had the privilege of having. Was it a privilege or a right? Funny how those two lines blur. Some say everyone has the right, other’s that it’s a privilege. Fuck it, everyone should have a good home to start off with and if they mess up, well that’s on them. Everything was so neat and organized, placed just in the right spot with a purpose. The kitchen was wide, open and she imagined her mother just swinging from one side to the other, making delicious meals for the holidays. It was her domain, it had to be. The living room on the other hand showed the unity of the family, with numerous photos of Becky and Tom as kids scattered around the place. The dining room had a large round table that was kept in a pristine condition and was most likely used for big and important dinners, probably when the whole family gathered with aunts and uncles and all the kids.
It had to be nice growing up in such a family, Jill thought and wished to know what that was like, even if only for a moment.
Becky came down the stairs shaking her head. “No luck. I can’t crack the combination. I checked around the room too, but I’m positive it’s in there. So, no gun.”
“Damn it,” Jill said as she looked around. “Well, it’s going to be hand to hand combat then.” She swung her fists like a boxer, something that made Becky laugh.
“We can go into the garage and check some of my dad’s tools. I’m sure we can find something there. And my brother’s room, I know he had some weird shit in there.”
“Very smart, I like the way you think, lady.”
***
They walked down into the basement t
hat was mostly unfinished, save for the other half where Tom had been living. That part looked nicer than Becky’s apartment. There was Tom’s bed on one side, on a big fluffy black rug. A huge dresser occupied one corner, an armoire on other, and a fifty-inch television directly across, mounted to the wall. Right in front of it was a leather couch and a recliner, one of Tom’s most prized possessions.
“Right there, in the corner,” Becky said and pointed to a machete. She knew Tom had it, but what the circumstances around him acquiring it were she couldn’t recall. All of a sudden, one day, it was there.
“That’s gonna come in handy.” She took it from the corner and unsheathed it. It had a serrated edge and it was shiny and looked like it had never been used. There had been no reason for her brother to ever use a machete. A silly thought entered her head and she let out a chuckle.
“What is it?” Jill asked.
“Oh, nothing. It’s nothing.”
Becky slid her newfound weapon back into its sheath and looked around that tiny little abode. A sea of memories rushed through her head, especially of the times she and Tom played hide and seek before this part became his living quarters. It had to be shortly after they both entered high school that he moved down here. It didn’t always look as homely and furnished the way it did now.
Jill was trying to find something else that could be used as a weapon, but it seemed as though Becky had found the only one.
“Let’s go raid the garage and see what we can find,” Becky said and walked over to the stairs. “I wish we could stay here, though,” she added as she started walking up. “But I also wish for many other things too.”
“I know,” Jill said.
“But this shit show must go on.”
They walked through the kitchen again and Becky stopped at Mr. Dwyer’s corpse. She couldn’t leave him like this. She also thought of her parents and them being sprawled over each other on the floor, swimming in their blood.
Rise of the Dead Page 15