“I want to cover them up with something,” she said. “They deserve at least that, if we can’t properly bury them. Can’t just let them rot like this, out in the open, with no dignity.”
“That’s fine. We should do that,” Jill agreed.
“There are some towels and sheets in that closet down the hall.” Becky pointed to the little hallway behind Jill that led into the laundry room.
Jill walked over to it and opened the door.
“Just grab something big enough, please, if you don’t mind.”
Jill rummaged through and brought three sets of maroon bed sheets and handed them to Becky. She took two and left one to Jill. She knelt down and spread the cover in the air; it slowly descended onto the bloody man.
Becky stood over her folks for a minute and blew them another kiss. She thought of a prayer but decided against it. What was the use of it? If all the prayers in the world had brought down this scourge onto mankind, well then, it was all in vain. People prayed to a God that had turned away from them, but then again, humanity had it coming for a long time. If anything, people had brought this upon themselves.
The way everything looked, there won’t be any finger-pointing and scapegoat-finding this time around, that is, unless this just happened to be an isolated incident. But she very much doubted that it was. If all the stations only broadcasted emergency messages, this had to be big. Just how did it all spread so quickly? Was it really all coming from Love Canal?
It was useless to think about it.
She got down on her knees, untangled and spread her folks apart then lined them up next to each other. She covered the corpses, and as she did it something caught her eye. It was across the room, just sticking out behind the right leg of the armoire in the dining room.
Her dad must have been getting ready for trouble when Mr. Dwyer had stumbled in (or maybe he was already in the house and then turned, there was no way of knowing), because that thing on the floor under the giant piece of furniture was definitely his handgun. Probably, it had been knocked out of his hand during the struggle and then it had skidded and landed there. If only she had come over instead of going jogging with Tom, maybe they would all be together now. Every action has an infinite number of consequences and her choices most certainly contributed to this particular outcome. There was no way of shaking off her feeling of guilt.
“Hey Jill,” Becky said as she snatched the gun. “I found something.”
“What?” Jill asked from the kitchen, then, after a moment, walked into the living room.
“My dad’s gun. Check it out.” She flashed the gun in front of her, all proud of her new find. The weapon would increase their chances of survival, for sure. As much of a threat the undead posed, the living were just as dangerous. That crazy religious nut had almost killed them all.
“That’s awesome. One piece of good news.”
“You can have it. I’m sure you’re a better shot than me. I mean, given what you and Jack…”
“No, yeah … totally. I’ve had enough practice, I’d say. Definitely could handle this.” Jill took the gun and studied it.
Becky didn’t really know what kind it was. All she remembered was her father saying something about it being a 9mm or something. Was that right? It looked like any other handgun she had seen in the movies and it made no difference what it actually was. As long as it fired bullets, and Jill knew how to use it, they would be fine for the time being.
“Well, let’s hit up the garage and see what we can find there,” Becky said, thinking of all the tools that were there. She was sure all of that junk would be a great weapon in their arsenal of home improvement items.
“Sure, then we can go.”
“Yeah, I’d like to go to my aunt’s house and see if they’re alright.”
“That’s fine with me. You lead the way. It’s not like I have anyone here. In that respect, I’m flying solo. Congrats, you’ve adopted an orphan.” She laughed at her own joke and followed after Becky.
As Becky reached for the handle, several gunshots came from somewhere on the street, followed by yelling and screams of alarm and fright. More gunshots and yelling followed and then one of the walking dead appeared in the kitchen window.
“Oh shit!” Jill said and pointed the gun at the thing that was now pounding on the glass. “It’s gonna break in!”
Then the sound of glass shattering in the dining room drew their attention away from the door that led into the garage. Becky let go of the handle and ran to inspect the cause of the noise. She thought it was just a stray bullet, but deep down she feared the worst.
“Guard the kitchen,” she added to Jill as she ran past her.
“Well, we’ll see how that goes,” Jill said nervously as she fixed the gun on the thing on the other side of the glass.
When Becky got to the other side of the house, she saw that three zombies had made their way inside by shattering a window and were now slowly getting to their feet. One of them decided to continue crawling over the shards of glass, leaving a bloody trail over the floor.
“This never ends,” Becky whispered to herself.
“What’s going on in there?” Becky asked nervously.
“There’s a bunch of them in here,” Becky replied.
“Define bunch.”
“Three. Looks like there are more of them outside.” Becky slid the machete out and cut the head off the closest walking corpse. It fell away and rolled over to the TV stand. She kicked one coming up close from behind, then drove the machete through its neck. The thing still kept coming after her, but she held it at bay. It was a woman she had surely seen around the neighborhood before. Even with the serrated blade stuck into her throat and coming out through the back of her neck she still pushed on and tried to pile on top of Becky. With one swift kick, as if she were punting a football, Becky sent her flying back to the window and quickly ran to finish the job. Broken glass was still sticking up in places in the window frame, so she gave the woman another shove, sending her down, then watched her head impale on one of the larger shards.
“This is not gonna last,” Jill shouted from the kitchen, and then the sound of the glass breaking came, followed by a gunshot. “There are more of them!”
“Alright, hang on!” Becky yelled back, and then brought her now bloody blade down severing the head of the crawling zombie. Blood spouted out of it like a fountain.
She ran to the kitchen and saw one of them crawling through the window, while two more stood at the side door and clawed at it.
“We can’t stay here. We have to go. The house will be swarming with them in the next few seconds. If we don’t get out right now, we’re as good as dead.”
Jill fired a shot and hit the one trying to crawl through. The bullet went through the eye and blew the brains over the siding of the house next door.
“Nice shot!” Becky said and she meant it. The expression on her face was one of awe and she made sure Jill saw it.
“Thanks,” Jill said proudly, taking a moment to enjoy her kill.
Becky opened the door leading from the kitchen into what her father called his ‘work space’, when in reality it was just a place he dumped all the tools into. It used to be a garage once, Becky remembered, but that was a long time ago.
“Just grab whatever you think we can use,” Becky said as she reached for a hammer. It was the first thing she saw, sitting on the work bench. She thought it was a perfect weapon, with a blunt and a sharp side, plus a decent length handle.
Jill ran to the corner where the switch that opened the overhead door was and took a crowbar that was standing upright.
“This’ll have to do.”
“Alright, hit the switch,” Becky said and pointed at it.
After a few clumsy taps with her index finger Jill finally got it to lift up.
As the door came off the ground, one of the zombies grabbed her ankle and pulled, sending her down on her back. She dropped the crowbar and her gun as she hit the ground.
“Damn it!” She grunted and immediately tried to retrieve one of her lost weapons.
“Jill!” Becky rushed to her aid. She kicked the man in the head, but not hard enough to get him off Jill. Paying no attention to her, he went for Jill’s throat, only to be blocked by her bare hands. Becky then swung around and mounted the zombie from the back. She placed the machete at its throat, grabbing the tip of it with her other hand, and then pulled back. The blade cut into her palm, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to pierce its head and risk the blood ending into Jill’s mouth or eyes. For all they knew that was how the disease spread. She pulled harder and the man finally began to let go of Jill. He focused his rage on Becky. She held him though; choking him with the machete that now she tugged with all the strength she had. It cut deep into the throat –and her palm – and the head started to tip backwards, until it came off and hit her in the face.
Jill recouped and salvaged her weapons.
“This shit is getting old,” she said almost out of breath. “Real old.”
“No time to waste,” Becky said. ”He didn’t get you anywhere, right?” She inspected her, trying to see if she had been bitten or scratched anywhere.
“I’m alright,” Jill said reassuringly.
“He didn’t get you?” She continued to feel her around her face, neck, and hands.
“No, I’m telling you, I’m alright. No injuries to report here.”
“Alright then.”
Becky tugged her by her arm and they ran to the car. They stopped for a moment, to witness the pandemonium that was engulfing the street they were on. People were running out of their houses, throwing whatever they had in their hands into their cars and driving off.
Those were the lucky ones, though.
Three houses down, a man and a woman flew out the second-floor window and ended up on the lawn. Kids’ screams came out of the house. The man had ended up on his back, his legs were obviously broken, and so he tried to crawl away, grabbing at the grass, digging his fingers into the ground. The woman followed him, first latching onto his right leg, then biting into it. The fabric came off along with the flesh, and blood spattered her face like a blank canvas.
“Holy shit,” Jill said in disbelief. She started stuttering, trying to spit out whatever she had on her mind, but Becky pushed her into the passenger seat.
“I know, it’s all messed up and terrible and sad an … and everything else you can think of, but that’s going to be us in a few seconds.” She shut the door and ran over to the driver’s side. “Buckle up because this will get extremely bumpy.”
“On it,” Jill said. She put her seatbelt on and checked her gun. “Just get us the hell out of here.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Becky said and kicked the car in reverse. They hit one of the dead coming from behind and then bumped over its body. The engine rumbled and the front bumper scraped the asphalt as she reversed then hit the gas to speed down the street.
Several people tried to stop them as they drove by. Some of the undead tried to get in their way only to be run over and have their innards spewed on the windshield.
“You ever seen the movie called Death Race?” Jill asked, trying to somewhat lighten the mood. “You know, the one about racing in prison?”
“No, I can’t say I have,” Becky responded absently, not really even thinking about her answer.
“Well, anyways, this reminds me of that movie. I never thought I’d be living it.”
“Anything is possible, I guess,” Becky said and took a sharp right turn, then an immediate left. An oncoming truck almost hit them head on. If they were half a mile per hour slower the crash would have been unavoidable
“That was too damn close, Becky” Jill nearly screamed and gripped the seatbelt. “I think my heart just stopped! Running away from the dead only to get plowed over by a truck.”
“Hey, we’re still alive if you haven’t noticed. Very much alive, thank you very much.”
“I can’t take these chances anymore. I’ve had enough for one day,” Jill said and chuckled nervously. “This is too much, I’m telling you.”
As they drove on, Becky noticed that they had changed one hellish scenery for another one. Every street they drove through was covered in violence, bloodshed, and utter pandemonium. Families tried to remain together, mothers and fathers protecting their children, siblings protecting each other; everyone equally trying to fend off the living dead.
A few houses were on fire, but no sound of sirens could be heard, no fire trucks coming down the street to put them out. People didn’t even bother to make an effort. They simply packed their things and drove off.
Maybe that was for the best, Becky thought as they passed the large clouds of smoke. Those were simply caused by belongings caught in flames, and they were easily replaceable. Lives were not.
“It’s everywhere,” Jill said after a few minutes of silence.
“Yeah,” Becky sighed. What more was there to say? She searched for more words to add to her simple answer her basic acknowledgment of Jill’s statement, but in the end, came up with nothing.
“How far does your aunt live?”
“Just up the 290 West, in Amherst, about ten minutes from here, but the way things are, we’ll be lucky if we ever get there.” She turned onto the ramp to merge on the highway and nearly hit a pickup truck in front of them.
Ahead of that car was what looked like a never-ending line of vehicles that stretched as far as they could see.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was a traffic jam to end all traffic jams, Jill thought and shook her head. Three more cars pulled up behind them and now they were sandwiched in the middle of the merging ramp. She opened the window and stuck her head out in an effort to see if there was any motion at all. No such luck.
“Looks like we’re really stuck,” she said and realized she was only stating the obvious. She then added, “But it’s not like you can’t see that, I guess.”
“People are probably trying to flee the city, get out while they can.”
“Yeah…”
“At this point we’d get there sooner on foot, but then again, we’d risk running into a few more hordes of the dead.”
“Well that’s the decision we might have to make eventually, because there is no way this will get going any time soon. You can’t even see where it begins or where it ends. For all we know there is no getting through to where we’re going. Maybe the highway is blocked off at some point further down.”
People started beeping their horns at each other, as if sounding them off would clear the standstill. Jill turned and saw that some were now abandoning their cars and walking away. There was an entire family of five taking what they could carry by hand and departing the scene.
Becky turned on the radio and fiddled with the search button until she found the only station that was still on and was playing an emergency message.
“…indoors. If you come in contact with one of the infected, aim for the head. Destroying the brain is the only way to stop the dead from further attacks.”
There was a brief pause, followed by three long beeps, like a Morse code. A man came on the air, preceded by the rustling of papers and some feedback. Whoever he was or whatever he was doing, he tried to get it out to the public as fast as he could. As the man started talking on the air, three helicopters flew over the highway, followed by two fighter jets. The clouds were finally giving way to a weak sun, its rays slowly emerging through the gray thickness.
“We have Dr. Robards here in the studio with us and he will shed some more light on the situation we have on our hands. Dr. Robards?”
“Who is Dr. Robards?” Jill asked confused. They were now freely throwing names out there, trying to show people that they actually had professionals handling the situation, and Dr. Robards – or even Dr. Smith – would reassure the average Joe that the crisis was being dealt with.
“Probably someone from CDC or something. Who knows?” Becky said and p
ut her head back, then closed her eyes.
“Honestly, it is very simple,” Dr. Robards got right into it. He sounded older, with a dry voice, that of a math professor at a university roughly sixty or so years ago, Jill thought and smirked. “Do not go outside, as you’ve heard from the message and in case you do come in contact with one of the infected, the best course of action is to destroy the brain. That seems to kill them … again.”
“Kill them again?” The man who introduced Dr. Robards asked confused.
“Well yes, they are dead to begin with. Those who were dead can be reanimated, as we have witnessed and had hundreds of further reports. Any bite or scratch or exchange of bodily fluids with the dead is highly infectious. It is too early to make any statements regarding the cure, but as of now we have not found anything that combats the virus and we do believe it is a virus.”
“Do you know what strain? What is this virus, doctor?”
“We are not sure at the moment, but we do have our leads and will make a statement as those leads are solidified.”
“That is not telling us much, doctor. I am sure you can give us something. Give the public something—”
“I am not at liberty to disclose statements that are only based on speculation. I have my superiors and when I get the word, I will be more than happy to give you a statement. Until then, this is all the information I am at liberty to come out with.”
“You … or should I say your superiors, have given us all the same crap for the past two hours and it’s not much to go by except that the people should stay indoors.”
“You must understand the situation, and that is that we are dealing with something unprecedented and very aggressive. We cannot make unfounded claims—”
“Cannot or don’t want to?” The man hosting the doctor had become riled up, impatient, his voice becoming sterner and damning.
Becky and Jill exchanged concerned looks.
This is it, this is when the government became the bad guy, Jill thought as she continued to listen. Sure, she and Jack had spent countless nights debating and arguing about just how deep the conspiracies went and how shady everything was. It was the government that controlled the media and everything that was fed to the general populace. And this right here, this chat between the esteemed Dr. Robards, who she had never even heard of, and this radio guy was getting out of hand. Robards was probably just some dude they sent in to feed them a load of bullshit. The radio guy had courage to actually call them out on it.
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