Vaccination - 01

by Phillip Tomasso

  I sat there. Thinking.

  Shit if he didn’t actually have a point.

  # # #

  Hands on my shoulders woke me. I jumped up. I’d fallen asleep at the table.

  “We’re going to move.” Allison knelt beside me.

  “They’re gone?” I said.

  “All of them. Not sure when, or how long, but they’ve moved on.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Noon.” I looked around the kitchen. Sunlight filled the house, even with curtains pulled closed. “Why’d you let me sleep so long?”

  “You needed it,” Josh said.

  “We all did.” Allison stood. “There’s coffee.”

  A cup of coffee and a cigarette sounded amazing. Sounded normal. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. No missed anything. I dialed my daughter’s number. Fast busy signal. “Everyone’s ready?”

  “We are,” Josh said. “Want to take a fast shower?”

  I looked up at the kitchen ceiling. Remembered what was upstairs. A shower sounded better than coffee and a cigarette. “I’m going to pass,” I said.

  Josh said, “How far, exactly, to your kids?”

  I looked at Allison. Knew what she was thinking. They weren’t there last time I talked to Charlene. They’d had to flee. My daughter was using an ax. “Near the lake. Big house, at the end of Dewey.”

  Josh looked like he’d swallowed his tongue. “That’s still a few miles.”

  “We should try and get another car.”

  “Bet the people that lived here have one.” Dave started opening drawers.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Car keys. They must be around here.”

  By the phone on the wall near the back door was a key chain rack. I walked over, lifted a set off the hook. “Like here?”

  Dave beamed. “Exactly.”

  I shook my head. Was going to be a long day.

  We stopped at the garage door. I pressed an ear to the wood. Behind me, they were all ready with their garden tool weapons. “On three,” I said.

  As slowly as possible, I disengaged the deadbolt. I turned the lock on the knob, and then pulled open the door.

  Dark, but clearly empty. Where was the car?

  “The driveway?” Allison said.

  Made sense. They had car keys. There must be a car. If not in the garage, then in the driveway. We left the kitchen. Walked in a line.

  Allison smelled like Pert Shampoo. She’d showered. I must smell like shit.

  Three of us huddled between the front door and staircase. Josh stood by the picture window. With the back of one hand, he parted the curtain and chanced a look outside.

  “Well?” I said.

  “Still looks clear.”

  “We should go, then. While we have the chance,” Dave said. He looked at me and nodded. His tongue might as well be dangling out of the corner of his mouth, and his nose wet. That’s how much he reminded me of a giant sheep dog.

  “I agree, but maybe now is the best time to try the television. See what the news is saying.” Josh let the curtain fall closed.

  He also stared at me. Got the feeling if I said, No, that would be the end of it. And we’d venture outdoors, blind.

  “Good idea. Keep it low. Very, very low,” I said.

  Dave walked toward the couch.

  “Uh-huh, Dave. We’re staying right here. By the door. Away from the windows,” I said. “We can see the set fine from here.”

  Josh stayed low. He squatted in front of the television and turned it on.

  We all stared as he flipped through channels of nothing but white-snow-static.

  Until he stopped on what seemed to be the only channel still . . . alive and working.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Fox News Reporter, Jeremy Thomas sat in front of a green screen. A helicopter’s view of Washington was displayed behind him. Chaos ensued on the White House grounds. Secret Service used automatic rifles to fire strings of shots at zombies.

  “Recent reports indicate that the President is safe. While the nation’s capital is under attack, both the president and vice president have been taken to separate secure undisclosed locations. All branches of the military are working together to combat the common enemy. It is advised that everyone remain indoors until the situation is controlled. Phone lines are down. Cellular towers are working, but sporadically. The National Guard and all branches of the military have been deployed on US soil. Safe-compounds are being set up in the following states and cities. . .”

  Static - white snow. The signal lost.

  Josh banged the TV.

  It was a flat screen. It did nothing to fix the picture. Instead, it wobbled on its base and fell forward.

  “What the fuck, Josh,” Dave said. I couldn’t have said it any better.

  Josh picked the set up. Set it back on the stand. The screen was not broken. White snow filled every bit of the 52 inches.

  “Check through the channels again,” Allison said.

  Josh had the remote pointed at the cable box, and was scrolling. “Nothing. We got nothing.”

  At first, I thought it looked and sounded hopeless. I’ll admit the US military never entered my mind. They were a positive ray. If anyone could thin out the heard of zombies, those boys could. Would. It wouldn’t be easy, but they had the training and weapons.

  “Where do you think these camps are?” Allison said.

  “I’ll bet one is in D.C.,” Josh said. “Probably one somewhere in New York, too.”

  “But we don’t know where,” I said. “Let’s look around. See if this couple had a transistor radio. My guess is they will. And batteries. That will at least give us some way of keeping a pulse on what’s happening.”

  “It’s a good idea,” Josh said.

  We scattered. The scavenger hunt had begun.

  Then something exploded.

  The house shook.

  Allison screamed.

  We all ran back into the living room.

  “You okay?” I asked, looking at everyone.

  “It came from outside,” Dave said, pointing at the picture window.

  I peeked out. I couldn’t see anything. “I’m going out,” I said.

  “We don’t know what that was,” Allison said.

  “It’s why I have to check,” I said.

  I had my shovel. “Lock this door as soon as you shut it, got it?”

  She nodded. I didn’t believe her. “Dave, you make sure this door is locked once I’m outside.”

  “You got it,” he said.

  I stepped out onto the front step. Didn’t need to go much further to notice three things. There was no car in the driveway, and the house next door was on fire. Colorful flames licked at the afternoon sky. Heat rolled off the burning clapboard and hit me like a wave in the face and chest. Third, the loud boom from the explosion was bringing curious zombies out of the woodwork. They were still a ways off, but they were coming.

  I turned, knocked on the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “Fuckin’, Dave, let me in!”

  The door opened. I’d only just stepped outside. Josh said his brother was a bit slow, but this was a bit ridiculous. He might have saved my life last night, but I’d bet money he’d also be the cause of my death. “We have to get out of here.”

  “What was it?” Josh held a plastic bag in his hands.

  “House next door. Gone. Coulda been a natural gas leak. Which means, we’re not safe in here. Not anymore,” I said. “The gas lines run from house to house. No fire department is coming and RG&E isn’t going to shut the gas off, if you know what I mean.” I started toward the kitchen, and back door. They followed.

  “What about the car?” Josh said.

  “Isn’t one.”

  “Where is it?” Dave asked.

  I ignored him. “Zombies are coming back. The sound. It calls them. Noise does. So we have to be fast, and we have to be quiet. Shut the two-ways off.”


  Josh and Allison switched off the radios.

  “I don’t think staying close to the houses is going to be smart. Not right now. We need to put some distance between us.”

  Another explosion, then two smaller ones rattled the walls of the house we were in.

  “What was that?” Allison said.

  “We have to move, now.”

  In a line, me at the front, Allison behind me, followed by Dave and Josh, we moved like a snake towards the back of the yard. Going around front didn’t make sense, it was where I had seen the gathering of walking dead. Running through yards and jumping fences didn’t seem easy either, but right now, it was the only option I could think of.

  The other explosion was another house. The two, side by side, were now fully engulfed. Black smoke rolled into the air. Inside the houses, white sparks and pops sounded. It was loud. The roar of the fire was deafening. Glass broke inside. Shattered. Sounded like ceilings caving, or staircases crumbling. Even at the edge of the yard, we could feel the heat. I don’t know how firemen run inside those things, wearing all that gear, and breathing into a tiny face mask.

  “Over the fence?” Allison said.

  “Yep. Over,” I said.

  Dave went first. We handed him our garden tools. I hoisted Allison up and over next. Josh and I climbed at the same time.

  We landed in the next yard. The in-ground pool was covered. Cinder blocks held the cover in place. A tiny two-person gazebo sat alone between the pool and the back patio. Nice place. Probably had a house full of zombies inside trying to figure out how to open a door.

  “Keep moving,” I said. “This house could blow at any time.”

  “Should we keep following the gas line? I mean, stay on Mt. Read, or should we cut back? Go toward the street behind this one. What is it?”

  “True Hickory,” Allison said.

  “We could. We just follow it, and cut through the bit of woods at the end. Wind up in the Tops Friendly Market parking lot,” I said. “Okay. Let’s do that.”

  I wasn’t looking for a vote. We went kiddie-corner to the back fence, and repeated the jumping over process.

  Once on the other side, we knelt in a huddled circle. “With all these trees, we’ve got some cover. We’re not as visible. Let’s try staying away from the house, away from noise, and keep back here. Think we’ll be able to move faster. Once we get to Tops, I’ll figure out what next,” I said.

  No arguments. All three nodded.

  Sneaking through the backyards under the cover of trees was completely different from walking on streets, or sidewalks, or close to houses. This just felt fucking creepy.

  Most of the Maples had lost their leaves. Every step sounded like a gunshot when crunching down on dried out foliage, and I cringed. It couldn’t be as loud as I thought. But we were making noise as we made our way north toward the parking lot. Pines were full, and their branches would soon sport clumps of snow.

  Thankfully, it was a chilly November morning -- God, it was now November -- but it was not snowing. The morning air had a bite to it. At this point, it felt invigorating. Got the blood pumping.

  I held up a fist. Squatted low.

  Allison bumped into me.

  I looked at her, at my fist and rolled my eyes.

  “Really?” I said.

  Josh and Dave had stopped.

  “What?” Allison looked at me, head cocked to one side. Her dog-face, I always called it. Confused puppy.

  “The fist. See how I have it in the air? How I stopped?”

  “I see it.”

  “It means stop,” I said.

  “What does?” she said.

  “The fist. When I do this. It means stop.”

  “Says who?” She looked at Josh for support, but Josh nodded in agreement. “You knew this?”

  “Even I knew it,” Dave said, laughed -- came out more as a chortle, with a pig-like snort at the end.

  Josh drove an elbow into his brother’s gut. “You want to wake the dead?” He looked at me, half a smile.

  Good attempt. Not funny. I ignored him. “You ever see a movie in your life, Alley? I mean, I know, remember we saw that Gulf War movie just like in July, or August? Remember when they were going in to attack the enemy and the squad leader did this, with his fist? And his whole platoon stopped. They just, they stopped?”

  “You mean that two and half hour movie, the two seconds of film you’re referring to, do I remember it? No, Chase. You wanted to see that movie not me. I think I had my phone under my shirt and was on Twitter through most of it.”

  Bang, zoom. Was all I could think. “Tell ya what. You see me hold up a fist, if any of us holds up a fist, if you, Alley, if you hold up a fist. We stop. We get low. We be quiet. Deal?”

  “If you’d of said that before you became the squadron leader, we wouldn’t of had this terrible miscommunication. So why did we stop,” Allison said.

  I looked forward. Looked around. “Shit.”

  “Shit, what?” she said.

  “I had something important to say.”

  “But you don’t remember now?”

  I gritted my teeth. Grounded them. “Let’s get to the parking lot.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I held up a fist. Everyone stopped, was quiet.

  “I remembered,” I said. “When we get to the parking lot, we’re not just going to cross it. We’re going to check it out, find the best way to move back out in the open.”

  Allison gave me a look. She didn’t say it, but her eyes said, Duh.

  “What’s that?” Dave pointed.

  I followed that direction. Something was behind one of the pine trees. I clearly saw jeans and boots protruding.

  “They could be dead,” I said.

  The left leg moved.

  We all flinched. “Shit. Okay. Dave, Josh, you guys go around to the left. Allison and I will approach straight on. Not a sound.”

  The . . . forest . . . was thicker the closer we got to Tops. It was harder and harder to see the backs of houses on either our left or right. We were in the middle of the thicket.

  Allison and I did the leapfrog thing again. Moving from tree to tree. We were extra careful about where we stepped. A snapped twig, a pile of crunchy leaves, and our stealthy converging would be blown.

  Allison moved ahead of me. Stopped by a fat round Maple. She pressed her back to the tree. She held up a fist.

  I waited.

  She looked at me, brow furrowed. She waved me to her.

  I walked as silently as possible.

  “I did this,” she said, holding up her fist.

  “I know. I stopped.”

  “But I didn’t want you to stop back there. I wanted you up here.”

  I pursed my lips. Hoped they looked like I was smiling and nodded. “What?”

  “It’s a kid. A teenager. Doesn’t look like a zombie.”

  I peeked around the tree we hid behind. I could see the kid. The teen. He now had his arms wrapped around knees pressed to his chest. He was shivering.

  I looked, saw Josh and Dave. Held up a fist.

  The fist was getting old.

  They stopped though.

  “They coming over here?” Allison asked.

  “No,” I said. “They’re not.” Her head went to one side.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Cover me. Just in case he attacks. Be ready.” I stepped away from the tree. I held my arms up, the shovel in one hand, blade down.

  I took steps toward the large pine.

  “Hey?” I said. “Hey, kid.”

  He was alert. Might be cold, but he wasn’t sleeping. He jumped to his feet.

  I hadn’t noticed the Glock earlier. He held it in both hands. The barrel aimed at me. From where I stood, about ten yards away, looked like a head shot for sure. I raised my hands higher. “We’re not zombies,” I said.

  “What do you want?”

  “We’re just passing through.”

  The kid looked l
eft, right, real fast like. If his peripheral vision focused on anything, I’d of been surprised. He was checking his surroundings, didn’t blame him.

  Wish he didn’t have a gun pointed at me. “We just want to get past you. No trouble.”

  “We? How many of you are there?”

  I didn’t want to throw us all under the bus, nor did I want to throw Alley under there either. “Two,” I said. “My girlfriend. She’s hiding. Doesn’t like guns.”

  “Tell her to come out. I want to see her. How do I know she doesn’t have a gun pointed at my head?”

  “She doesn’t.”

  “But I don’t know that, do I?” He had to be about sixteen. Maybe seventeen. Aside from his jeans and work boots, he had on a grey hoodie over a maroon Greece Cardinals Football shirt and jean jacket. He wore the hood. I couldn’t see his eyes. They were overcast in shadows. I couldn’t see much else, actually, beyond the front of the handgun pointed at me. “Put the shovel down, and have her come out.”

  “I am not going to have her come out. She’s not a threat.”

  “Put the shovel down.”

  “Not going to do that, either kid. And stop yelling. Your voice is going to attract zombies, all right.”

  “I’ll raise me voice and you can’t do shit about it.”

  “I can’t,” I said. “Not from here. Not with you aiming your gun at me. But he can.”

  “He can, who?”

  “Behind you.”

  The kid laughed. “I look like a fucking moron?”

  “I don’t want to see you get hurt. We want nothing from you. We just want to pass by. But if you don’t lower the gun, you’re going to get hurt.”

  “I’m not turning around. You’ll charge me.”

  “From here?” I laughed, quietly, shook my head. “I don’t think so. But then again, I don’t need to charge you.”

  “Oh, right. Because, ‘he’ is going to stop me,” he said.

  “That’s right.”

  “Why don’t you go f--”

  Dave swung in a swooping arc the handle of the pitchfork. It slammed onto the kid’s forearm.

  I worried the kid might misfire.

  Instead, the Glock fell from his hand.