21
Kerry
Time had passed slowly for the first few days when he hadn’t come back, each minute dragged on for hours. He’d given her very specific instructions and she promised she would do them. If he didn’t return, she had to run. She had to take the kids and go. They’d die here if she didn’t.
Don’t come looking for me because we both know what it means if I’m not back in a few hours. But don’t worry he’d added. I’ll be careful. I’ll be back. Really, it’s no big deal, I know how to deal with those things.
They were down to the last bag of dog food. Chris had skipped over the Alpo and Old Yeller when he was looking in the neighbors houses for food but she didn’t. It wasn’t so bad when softened with water and cooked with eggs. The children had long since stopped complaining about the food, they would happily eat a can of spinach if it would take away the empty ache in their stomachs. They asked about Chris for a day or two but finally stopped. She had forced a smile and told them a lie none of them believed.
“Daddy will be home soon. He’s fine.”
She dozed fitfully in the chair, keeping a vigil every night, feeling the ache of loss deep inside her. Her tears were quiet and when the sun rose, she knew her wait was over. There was frost on the ground. It had been weeks; he was gone and they were dying. There was nothing left to eat and winter was coming. If they didn’t go now, they never would. Chris had put a fresh battery in her minivan, stolen from Mr. Hardy’s big Kubota tractor, and had filled it with siphoned gas
“Just in case.” he’d said when he kissed her goodbye. “But don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it and we’ll be having spam steaks for dinner.”
There was nothing for breakfast but the kids wouldn’t complain. They had aged a hundred years in the past few months.
“Hey guys, I need you to gather up your backpacks.” She said as she woke them. “We’ve got to leave. We’re going to Lakota.”
They didn’t ask about Chris and she didn’t say anything about her plan. She knew it was a long shot, knew she wouldn’t find him, but she had to try. She had to at least look. Just a quick drive by of the grocery store, it wasn’t really out of the way.
She led them into the garage. She’d packed the van with the few supplies she had which was only their clothes, some blankets and a gun. She was stoic and kept her eyes dry. She couldn’t show them fear and she couldn’t succumb to it herself. If she started crying, she might never stop. They had seven hundred miles to cover in a minivan long overdue to be traded in for something newer. She would have to find gas but she knew how to siphon, Chris had shown her. They’d be okay. They had to be. There was no other choice. They loaded quickly and strapped in. She had known this day would come and had been preparing. She’d blacked out the back windows to protect the kids from seeing any of the horrors they might encounter on the road. She made sure they had their ear buds in and switched on the DVD player in the headrest. Something to occupy their minds, distract them and keep them from looking around and asking questions. She had no allusions of battling a horde of zombies, fighting valiantly and overcoming overwhelming odds. She would try, she would do everything she could to make it to Lakota but if she couldn’t, if they got surrounded, she had an option. She double checked the load in the gun Chris had brought home from one of their neighbors. Six bullets rested in the chamber, enough to do the job. Enough so they wouldn’t have to become one of those screaming undead things.
She sat facing the garage door and thought about Chris one last time. This trip was supposed to happen in the truck, the one he’d armored up and had extra gas cans in the bed. The one he’d taken into town for a quick supply run. I just need to test it out before we hit the road, you know, run down some zombies so I know it works. If the town’s empty, I’ll grab some food from the supermarket. If not, I’ll come right back. No worries.
They should have stayed together, tested out the truck along the way and made the trip on an empty stomach.
Steeling herself, she hit the key, not a hundred percent sure it would fire up until it did. Please, she prayed. Don’t let me down this time. It had given her problems; it had been in the shop twice this year but there never seemed to be enough money to fix it right. They could only afford one car payment at a time and there had been two more years on the truck before it was her turn for something new.
She hopped out, double checked through the little windows to ensure nothing was around and slid the door open.
She dropped the van in gear and didn’t bother to close the garage door. She’d never be returning. To come back was slow death by starvation.
The van protested and shuddered for a few minutes before it smoothed out and started running right. It was the first time it had been started in months. As she eased out of the subdivision, she passed wrecked cars and open doors in the houses. Curtains flapped in broken windows and long dead bodies were on overgrown lawns and driveways. The GPS was already programmed for Lakota, she followed the mechanical voices instructions, driving around abandoned cars and checked the gauges. Three hundred sixty-four miles until empty. That would put her past Des Moines and out in the middle of nowhere. It would be an easy place to find food and siphon gas.
She turned south as she exited the Rolling Hills estates and gripped the wheel tightly. There was no traffic at all. No kids playing on swing sets. Nobody mowing their lawn. No one working in their garden. She hadn’t expected to see people but the stillness of everything was disturbing. Leaves covered the road and one set of tire marks was still barely visible in places.
She was following Chris’ path.
Occasionally she saw a car in the ditch or just pulled to the side with the door standing open. In one of them someone was still moving, struggling to get out. It was half eaten by something and the seatbelt held it in place. Its empty eye holes tracked her as it reached out in desperate hunger, its jaws snapping open and closed. She shuddered and sped up. She would be in Putnam in a few more miles and at least she would know what happened to him. The truck would be easy to spot.
What if she saw him all ripped up and gnashing his teeth at her like that thing back there? Her mind was awash in uncertainty. No, she told herself. He had the carpet coat. He’d killed those things before, he’d had to put a few down when he was raiding the nearby houses. He could be safe. He could be trapped on a roof or something. He could be waiting on her to come rescue him. She blinked the tears out of her eyes and ground her teeth. She could see his tracks cutting through the downed branches, leaves and pine needles. He might be there she told herself. There was a chance, stranger things have happened. She smiled a little, almost convincing herself it might be true. The van thumped and the wheel jerked hard towards the ditch.
Everyone screamed as she twisted it back on the road, barely avoiding an abandoned car. The van careened wildly for a moment as she sawed the wheel back and forth, over correcting and sliding on the damp leaves every time. Steam was hissing from the radiator and she almost started screaming in frustration as she brought it to a halt. She sat there for a moment frozen with indecision, not knowing what to do. Putnam was only few miles away, they were close. The van would make it to the grocery store and the truck. She had the spare key on her ring, the battery had to still be good and it was fueled up and ready to go. Maybe Chris was still there and he’d be waving from the rooftop. She could save him and they’d be on their way.
It could happen.
It could be like that.
She calmed herself, hushed the kid and opened the door. She had a plan. She must have hit one of those branches in the road. She’d make sure it was clear then they’d be on their way. She stepped out then screamed as cold hands snaked out from under the van and rancid teeth sank into her calf. She jerked away and the upper half of a rotten zombie came with her, fingers sunk deep into skin and its jaws open wide for another bite. Kerry danced and jumped but the thing kept biting, kept climbing up her leg with inhuman fingers as liquefying in
testines were pulled out and stretched along the road, it’s bottom half still jammed under the van.
She grabbed the thing by its greasy hair and tried to pull it off as it took another bite. She didn’t even feel her ripping skin being torn loose; her mind was a red cloud of mind-numbing terror. She tried to run but it tangled in her legs and she fell. It lost its grip and she crabbed away kicking at its face when it clawed after her. The kids were all screaming louder than her and the thing turned its gaze towards them then reversed direction, dragging itself back to the van.
“NO” Kerry yelled when she saw what it was after and jumped to her feet. She ran faster than it and threw herself in the drivers seat, slamming the door on the reaching hands. Bones crunched and she hit the gas, dragging the thing and leaving a long, bloody trail on the road. She had a death grip on the wheel and tried to shush the kids, maneuver around the fallen branches, control the pain starting to throb in her leg and calm her racing heart. Steam still poured out of the broken radiator. She was dead and she knew it.
Oh my God. The kids. She was at the verge of panic. Of completely freaking out. She was gonna turn, she’d seen her neighbors do it. She wouldn’t eat her own flesh and blood. She had to keep moving. Get them to some kind of safe place, some empty house where they might be okay. The kids were crying, ignoring the Disney movie and her leg was trembling, making it hard to keep steady pressure on the gas pedal. She had three chunks of it missing and in that things belly. It was bloody but not spurting. At least she wouldn’t die of blood loss. She could feel her leg growing colder, an iciness spreading through it. The virus. She wondered how much time she had. Probably not much. She had to protect the children, make sure she didn’t kill them. She was a little amazed at how clear her mind was working. She would have guessed she’d be a jabbering, incoherent wreck unable to think from fear but she was calm now. She knew she only had a few minutes to act and her babies would live or die based on what she did in those minutes.
She slowed the van and spoke calmly to the kids.
“Caleb, honey. Go in the back of the van and get mommy that rope. There’s a big coil of it in Daddy’s pack.”
When he brought it up to her, he started crying again when he saw her shredded pants and bloody leg but the coldness was moving faster, she didn’t have time to coddle him. She lashed her right hand to the steering wheel with the stout cord as she talked, telling them they all had to be brave. She pushed the old van and the temperature gauge continued its slow creep towards the red line.
She wasn’t sure if she could last until they made it to the supermarket and if she did, they wouldn’t be going anywhere else. Chris was dead. She knew it with certainty now. Those things moved so fast, one had killed her in just a split second. She had to find a house the kids could hide in, hopefully one with enough food to last them a while. She felt feverish, nauseous and the skull pounding throb of the worst headache she’d ever experienced. She kept talking to them while choking back the urge to vomit. Kept telling them they were going to have to take care of themselves now. In the few minutes they had she tried to tell them everything she could, any little thing that could help them live.
“Listen to me. Mommy is sick. I may act crazy soon. I can’t hurt you though. See I have my hand tied up. When that happens, I want you to run. There are scary people out there. Stay away from them. Do you hear me? Stay away from them. Look for nice people. Tell them you need help. Tell them I got sick and you need a place to stay. Do you understand?”
“I want my Mommy,” Clara cried.
“I know sweetie. I know, but Mommy’s not here and I need you to listen to me. Can you do that for Aunt Kerry?”
“Yes,” she sobbed.
She battled another wave of nausea, pressed the accelerator harder as the steam from the cracked radiator billowed from underneath the hood and tried to find a promising house. Something off the road and sturdy. She told herself it would be okay. Kids were tough. If she found them shelter and food, they’d be all right. They’d figure it out.
She didn’t believe it. They were seven years old. They would be dead in a week if not sooner and the tears rolling down her face wasn’t from the pain of the bites or knowing she was dying. It was for them.
She saw it then. Her children’s salvation. Faint smoke off in the distance. Someone was still alive; someone had a fire burning.
22
New Arrivals
It was a lazy Sunday and everyone was loosely gathered around the campfire. Chores were done and the twins were working with their polar bears using fish as treats for well performed maneuvers. The pair had quickly adapted to the saddles they had rigged up.
Vanessa and Ziggy were playing a game. She’d blown up some balloons and would hit them with her laser pointer. Ziggy waited to see which one was next and would attack, either popping them with her beak or gouging them with her sharp claws. Every balloon destroyed earned her more of the popcorn she was so fond of.
The boys were practicing spear or long hammer spinning, twirling them around their arms and necks and doing karate poses. Maybe showing off a little. Otis and Yewan dozed, completely uninterested in watching them dance around. Donny had gotten really good, even mastering some of the outlandish moves he’s seen in old Kung Fu movies. His spear never left his side, even when he slept, and its point had tasted deer blood often.
Swan was working a piece of deer leather, softening it up so she could make herself a buckskin shirt as her wolves and cubs enjoyed the warm sunlight.
Murray was playing toss with his monkeys but more often than not they wouldn’t bring the tennis ball back and he had to coax them in with snacks. They seemed to like the game of keep-away with the foxes better than fetch.
Harper was filing down the end of a bolt to make it pointy. She was making herself a morning star and was bound and determined to teach the giraffe how to follow simple saddle commands.
Gordon sat near the fire toasting a marshmallow just to show them he wouldn’t be shut out and that he didn’t care what they thought but he was fuming inside. He’d been working for hours chopping wood, doing his share of work, but Swan had sneered at the pile he had when he was finished.
“Vanessa can cut twice as much in half the time.” she’d said. “And she’s only ten. We need to change the rule from how long you cut to how much you cut.”
Cody had stepped in before they wound up in another shouting match.
“Gordon is still getting used to the work, he had blisters for weeks, remember? It takes a while to toughen up.”
Gordon hated him for butting in and pointing out that he was soft. He flipped them both off when they turned to leave. He hated this place. It was too much work, the animals needed constant care and he couldn’t understand why they didn’t put them outside the gate and forget about them. Every time he tried to tell them a better way of doing things, Mr. High and Mighty Cody would act like he was considering it and then tell him no. Sometimes he wouldn’t even think about it, like when he kept telling him they should move to someplace easier to maintain. Someplace that wasn’t so much work. You can leave if you want but we’re staying was the only answer he got to that suggestion.
The squeal of tires and the tortured sound of an engine on its last legs brought everyone to their feet and the monkeys scurrying for safety under Murrays’ jacket.
A minivan swerved into the lot and there was a roar from the undead milling around the front gate. It bounced off the wrecked school bus, slid sideways into the parking lot and rolled to a stop. It lurched forward again and jerked left and right; the driver seemed to have no particular destination in mind. It hit a few of the fast zombies then sped away, smoke billowing out from under the crumpled hood. The kids sprinted to the front gate and saw the van circle the expansive parking lot with the undead chasing behind. It looked like it was going to lead them away, get back on the road and go, but it swerved at the last second and took off down the long straight stretch leading to the oversized parking a
rea at the far end of the lot. It was empty now but, in the summer it was a place for campers and trucks and RV’s to easily maneuver and sometimes spend the night. The van swerved sharply again, tilted precariously to one side, then raced right back towards them. Its motor was clattering and they could smell the burning rubber of overheated hoses. Halfway across the lot, there was a clang of metal breaking, something deep and fatal in the engine and a different kind of smoke started pouring out but the driver didn’t let up.
It was all or nothing. Kerry could see them, the people at the gate. She was right, it had been a campfire. Part of her was steering the car and keeping the gas mashed, getting her babies to safety. The other part was roaring and jerking towards the fresh flesh only a few feet away behind her. The screaming and crying little chunks of meat that would be filled with warm, red blood. Kerry fought it harder than she’d ever fought anything in her life. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, completely tore through it hoping the pain and the blood would satisfy the craving for just a few more seconds. She was close. So close. She kept the wheel straight, her foot to the floor and saw them with clarity for a second.
The Feral Children [A Zombie Road Tale] Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 14