Scott dashed out the door, shouting “Stay here! I’ll get her!” He ran to the back gate, passing the remains of his friend Tom splayed on the lawn. His skull was punctured in places. The fence door was wide open. He secured the gate and ventured to the edge of his front yard.
Katie had vanished.
He ran to the Park’s house first. Bits of Ridley’s body scattered the front lawn. Scott tried unsuccessfully to forget the sounds of her final cries. He twisted the knob on the front door. Locked. He rang the doorbell and knocked as loudly as he dared. He thought about jumping the fence into the backyard but he couldn’t waste a lot of time looking for Katie. If she was in her house she would hear him. If she was not in her house, she could be anywhere and getting farther away by the second.
Hearing nothing from inside the house, Scott leapt off the porch and ran down the street.
The neighborhood was overrun with hollow men. At the next corner, Scott saw a clump of them gathered around a kill. He edged closer, fearing that he would find them feeding on Katie.
When he approached the pack of feeding hollow men, he saw it couldn’t be her. There was too much meat and bone for it to be the body of a nine year old. A nearby black biker helmet rocked as it was jostled. Inside it, protected by the thermoplastic, was the intact head of the victim, its mouth frozen open in a scream.
The biker’s Harley leaned against a white car parked on the street. A smear of red paint began from the car’s rear bumper and disappeared behind the motorcycle’s frame. In a failed attempt to dodge the hollow men converging on him, the biker had struck the rear of the car and scraped along the side of it before being pulled off the Harley to his horrific demise. . Scott marveled the Harley was still upright against the car. He was also surprised he hadn’t picked up the distinctive sound of the loud engine.
Slipping past the gruesome buffet, he searched anxiously for a sign of Katie. She couldn’t have gotten far. He assumed she’d hidden. He gave himself a little distance from the zombie kill and risked shouting for her.
“Katie! It’s Uncle Scott. Let me know where you are!”
He had attracted all of the wrong attention and none of the right. Necrotic heads snapped in his direction. Calculating the amount of time he might have before the hollow men fell on him, he shouted again.
The advancing menace spread out; previously unseen zombies appeared from side lawns and backyards, closing ranks across the path he had counted on to get home. Much like a rising tide, they hadn’t surged in quickly, but a significant mass of them surrounded him before he realized.
He wracked his brain for an alternative that didn’t include trying front doors and praying that the house would be both unlocked and unoccupied. Pacing steadily away from the zombies that were herding him, he suddenly thought of one escape likely to still be open to him.
Between two of his neighbor’s houses were two fences that ran parallel. One neighbor had used chain link, the other planted a wooden fence that had fallen into disrepair over the years, sagging away from the other. This created a narrow gap that Scott believed he could slip through and the zombies likely could not.
Keeping the shambling corpses in view, he backed into the first neighbor’s yard. The creatures hemmed him in. He whipped around to run to the fenced area and promptly butted heads with the corpse of a sturdily-built, pajama-clothed black man. It had stalked Scott silently. If Scott hadn’t chosen that moment to turn, the creature’s teeth would already be ripping into his neck.
It had no brain to concuss, no sensation of pain that would rock the zombie back. It grasped Scott by his bruised shoulder. The zombie lowered its mouth to bite.
Scott slammed his right forearm underneath the dead man’s jaw with all his strength, delaying the snapping teeth from breaking into his skin. Meanwhile, the pack of ravenous zombies that had followed him into the yard were now just a short lurch away.
His arm weakened. He pressed his forehead against the creature’s cheek. It was sickeningly pulpy, like an overripe plum. It reminded Scott of how a spider’s venom liquefied flesh after one painful bite.
The scrape of his brow split the zombie’s skin, sloughing it off like a wet Band-Aid, making its head slide past Scott’s grip.
CHAPTER 31
FOR HER, HE FIGHTS, AND BLEEDS
From the back of the house, Laura heard Chase and Scott unintelligibly shouting at each other. She ran into the kitchen too late to see Scott leave and saw Chase weeping on the floor, his shoulders spasming with each sob. She pulled him onto a bench and used a wet towel to clean the blood from his arms and face.
He was the spitting image of his father. She studied him sitting with his head hung down, his shoulders shuddering, his body shaking. She froze in worry. It seemed like a repeat of Tom all over again. She’d seen through the window earlier that morning when Ridley walked up to Tom, sat, and put her arm around him just before he…
No. Chase was not his dad. He was a terrified boy whom she’d watched grow up from a toddler. A boy she had rocked before putting him down for a nap, who sat on her porch with her daughter every summer, licking homemade popsicles. Chase was all alone in the world. Laura was the only mother he had left.
She wiped the blood away, revealing the ugly bite already beginning to fester. Grey, spidery lines formed at the edges of his ripped skin. Closing her eyes, she put his head on her shoulder and rocked him, humming softly.
Chase’s sobs quieted and he took a breath. “The sliding door was open. When I went to close it, I saw Katie was standing on a lawn chair close to the fence. She was saying, ‘Daddy? Is that you Daddy? Uncle Scott said you died. Hello? Can you hear me?’
“Uncle Scott warned me, and I believed him, but I had to make sure. I mean, he told us Dad had turned into one of those things. What if it Scott made a mistake? What if my dad was trying to find us and didn’t see us back at our house? What if he needed help? I had to know.”
She nodded. This boy would end up dying simply because he missed his father. Guilt rested heavily on her for not helping him come to terms with it better before now. But she couldn’t possibly know the right thing to do at every given second. She grappled with the likelihood that there would be more of these wretched losses.
Chase paused, gingerly resettling the wet cloth against his torn skin. Laura imagined the stinging of raw nerves exposed in his wounded cheek. He went on, the words sounding like his mouth had been stuffed with cotton.
“I looked over the fence, too. Dad was just standing there. He was the only one around. I wanted him to come closer to see if he’d really turned into one of those things. He turned his head to stare at us, then turned away again. One side of his face was dirty. His hair was spiked with blood. He kept opening his mouth, except we couldn’t hear him. I thought maybe he was being careful, trying to keep those things from sneaking up on him.”
“Katie stepped down from the chair and must have lifted the latch on the gate. I didn’t see her do it. The door opened just a bit and Dad pushed his way in, and the door knocked Katie down. He stared at both of us—trying to decide who he wanted to get first, I guess. He still looked like my dad, but the way he walked and the emptiness in his eyes… he didn’t even recognize us.
“I still had this.” He pointed at the mattock. “I must have carried it outside without realizing. I slid myself over to shield Katie and started swinging it back and forth. I warned him to get away. I’ve been bigger than my dad since last year. I thought I could beat him if I needed to. He got around me. I didn’t think those things could go fast.”
“He almost got Katie, so I jumped on him and dragged him to the ground. He flipped around, grabbed at my legs and bit me. He couldn’t get through my Levis. I kicked at him until I finally got free. Before I could stand up, he got on top of me again. I had my arms against his shoulders so he couldn’t bite me again. But I couldn’t hold him. I was tired and afraid. He was really strong.”
At this point, Maddy glided into the kitchen f
rom the garage. Her face was stricken with despair. She’d picked up enough to understand what had happened.
“While my dad fought me, Katie came up behind him and began hitting him with her fists. She kept yelling ‘Dad, stop. It’s us. You have to stop.’ He seemed to relax, as if he’d realized he was doing something wrong. He started to get off me. When the pressure came off my chest, I thought he might go after Katie again. I tried to get up. He turned around, held my head in his hands and bit my cheek. I got away from him.
“He chewed on the piece of my cheek that he bit off. It hurt so bad. I was so angry. My brain went all fuzzy. I hit him on the head with this.” He lifted the mattock. “And then I hit him again. And again.
“Dad is dead. I think he—or it—probably killed my mom. He tried to kill Katie. And now, I’m…”
He stopped speaking. He wasn’t ready to say it. Laura couldn’t bear to hear it; she made soothing noises and patted his head until he composed himself enough to continue.
“I saw Katie’d run away, and I shouted for her to come back. I ran to the driveway and yelled again. I didn’t see her, and that’s when I ran inside for help.”
Chase swallowed and glanced around. “Where is Uncle Scott? Why aren’t they back?” He was on the verge of total collapse. “Is my sister gone too? Are we all going to die?”
Laura tried reassuring the inconsolable boy. “Scott will find her, Chase. I know he will.”
She pressed his face to her shoulder again and rubbed his back. In addition to calming him, it also kept Chase from seeing the fear in Laura’s eyes. It was true. Her husband should have been back long before now.
CHAPTER 32
RUIN SEIZE THEE
Maddy snapped. She had been standing by helplessly the entire day. She hadn’t been able to do anything other than pack the van. Now she was losing the boy she would love for eternity. Her lips were tight with anger; her body trembled with frustration.
As soon as Chase finished his story, she decided to exact punishment on the carnivorous dead still hunting her family. Undetected, she picked up the mattock Chase had used to kill the zombie that used to be his father. She stormed upstairs, a ruse to misdirect anyone who might be tracking her movements in the house. She climbed through her bedroom window, lowered herself to the garage roof and then dropped to the ground.
Maddy first went to see what Tom’s body looked like. She didn’t recognize him. Chase’s angry blows punctured and dented his skull too severely.
She peered over the fence. Her dad was nowhere in sight.
A loose knot of three zombies shambled at the end of the driveway. She felt cold fury at anything tainted with the infection that had taken over Tom’s body and made him take Chase out of her life.
She chose Margie first, a single mom of two kids—a boy and a girl, whom Maddy had babysat for the entire summer last year. Michael was an adventurous six-year-old boy. Courtney was a blond girl of nine. They were two of the happiest kids she had ever seen. She hated to think where they might be.
Holding the weapon in both of her hands, she dodged past the clumsy grasp of the thing that had been Margie. She barely sensed a crunch through the handle as the sharp blade slid easily through the cranium. The creature collapsed to the pavement immediately, so quickly that it yanked the pickaxe out of Maddy’s hands.
The mattock penetrated the bone too deeply. She struggled to pull it free. It was hard staring into the slack and blood-encrusted face of her neighbor till she wiggled the mattock free, but anger was the only emotion Maddy had at that moment.
Taking a deep breath, she readied herself to kill another one, this time a male zombie she didn’t recognize. She hit with more measured force. She was learning to maximize damage while keeping the metal from getting stuck in bone. The second zombie went down.
She’d been calculating how to be the best survivor in this post-apocalyptic world. Practice would make a big difference. She developed a rhythm. A third one went down.
From behind, a legless one dragged its way toward her. Its hands were inches away from clutching her legs.
CHAPTER 33
DOLESOME DARKSOME HOUR
Fifteen minutes before, Katie had spotted her dad from the living room window. He stood at the foot of Uncle Scott’s driveway. He shivered as if he were cold. He must have the same sickness I have. Uncle Scott had never explained how her dad and mom had died. She thought maybe he had made a mistake, like when people get sick and are accidentally declared dead, and hours later, they regained consciousness in a morgue.
Seeing her dad seemingly alive broke through the hopelessness she’d felt ever since she’d woken up in the play fort. The bodies and the blood and the terror broke her. She had never watched a movie over a G rating.
When Emily’s dad said her parents were dead, she died inside. After crying herself empty, she’d functioned only on a basic level ever since, an automaton that did whatever the Hales asked her to do without being conscious of doing it.
Her brother saved her and paid the price for her mistake. When her dad bit Chase, her brother roared to his feet and swung the pickaxe fiercely. At a loss for what to do, she ran away. Chase yelled behind her, “Come back! Don’t leave me.”
She recognized her mom’s body in her front yard. Though little remained, Ridley’s fingers were intact. She wore a special ring on the middle finger of her right hand. It wasn’t an expensive ring, just a light pink pearl on a simple silver band.
The kids heard the story many times. Tom bought the pearl for her on their second date. They stopped at a “pearl in a bucket” place. For fifteen dollars, Ridley got to pick the oyster, the girl at the counter removed the pearl. Customers never knew what size, shape, or color they would get before the tongs emerged with the pearl from the oyster they had chosen. Ridley closed her eyes and wished for a delicate pink pearl. She got exactly that. Tom had the pearl mounted for her with Wishes come true inscribed inside the band.
Katie stumbled into her house, locking the door behind her out of habit. Emotionally lost, she climbed the stairs and went into her bedroom. She pulled from under her bed a shoe box of small treasures, jewelry, and pictures before going to her parents’ bedroom.
The room was both comforting and heart-breaking. Pictures of her smiling family hung on the walls. She gathered one of her dad’s shirts and a bottle of jasmine-scented lotion her mom often used. She took a pillowcase rich with her parents’ scents and put the contents of her shoebox, the lotion, and shirt into it. She despaired over the thought that she was all alone. Forever. She collapsed into her parent’s bed, crushing her face into their pillows and cried the tears she didn’t know she had left.
She never heard her Uncle Scott knocking on the front door.
CHAPTER 34
NO GRACE AFTER MEAT
Bill found the day the most liberating of his life. Society broke down. Humanity was under siege, and he would be part of the juggernaut. He could do anything with impunity. He felt no fear. After Wilma’s attack, nothing more could be done to him. His arm was usable but numb. Already he sensed the infection chomping away at him. Otherwise, he thought he might like the apocalypse.
He imagined the virus was a single living entity and tried to argue with the creature, making a case for operating symbiotically. Bill’s entreaties were met with silence and each minute that passed, another piece of his life force got swallowed into the growing void inside him.
Before he lost this life forever, Bill decided to enjoy every moment. He loped from kill to glorious kill. He looked for an opportunity to switch from observer to instigator.
He happened to be watching when Katie ran into her house. Moments later, Scott arrived at the front door, calling out for the little girl. Bill smoldered with anger when he saw Laura’s husband arrive. If not for him, last night would have been one of Bill’s most glorious.
Bill waited for the little girl to open the door. When she didn’t answer, Bill watched Scott run to a different part of t
he neighborhood, calling over and over “Katie! It’s Uncle Scott.” His foolish shouting attracted a growing following of zombies in his noisy wake.
Uncle Scott? An ugly lust bloomed within him. Bill was not a pedophile. He didn’t have a sexual desire for the little girl, though performing that kind of act on her might fill a different kind of need.
He was a sadist. He craved the fear, the battering down and crushing of a human spirit. Scott had prevented him from acting out his fantasies with Laura the night before. His hunger to inflict pain became more acute. His mind churned out interesting ideas for her.
Bill waited patiently for Scott to disappear out of sight, then cautiously approached the house, disengaging the gate leading to the backyard and lureda few of the shuffling dead into the yard behind him. Before they could get to him, he slipped into the house from the back door, calling, “Little girl. Where are you? I’m here to help you.”
He ran from room to room until he found Katie on the bed in the master bedroom. Her head was still buried in her parents’ pillows. He sensed her despair, and barely stifled the triumphant cackle that rose in his throat.
She jumped when he shook her.
He shouted in a voice meant to terrify and disorient little Katie, “Those things are just outside the house. Where are your parents? We need to get out of here!”
Her blank expression and tear-stained face led him to believe her parents were no longer living.
He soothed her to win over her confidence. “Poor girl. My name is Mr. Koenig. Tell me what happened.”
Weeping the entire time, she told the story of her father and Chase and how she found her mother dead on the front lawn. Bill listened, his expression a mask of sympathy.
“It’s going to be OK, I promise,” he purred. “I knew your mom and dad. They wouldn’t want you to get hurt. Come with me and I’ll take you to a safe place. Let’s hurry.”
The Hollow Men (Book 1): Crave Page 15