Vaccination - 01

by Phillip Tomasso

  The leaves did crunch underfoot. A plus. There was all that rain to thank for that. The mush and mud wasn’t great. I felt the ground suck at my dress shoes. Didn’t care if they got dirty. Just didn’t want them pulled from my feet.

  “Help, please. Help!”

  We stopped. Looked at each other.

  “Where’s that coming from?” Dave said.

  “Not that close,” I said. The voice, clearly a female, echoed. “Other side of the trees?”

  Allison kind of shrugged, shaking her head. “Could be.”

  “We have to find her,” I said. I know it sounded heroic, chivalrous-like. And it was. I did care. But her yelling was going to get all of us in trouble, too. Whoever was yelling for help had no idea what kind of swarm was headed in our direction. “That way,” I said.

  We cut diagonally through the trees, could see the end, only yards away. The Distillery parking lot was full. Just east of it were both an Applebees and Olive Garden. This small section of Greece was like restaurant central. And I was hungry. Very, very hungry.

  It still seemed a bit funny to me that we stayed armed with garden tools. One would have thought we’d of come across weapons. Guns? Machetes? Harpoons? Anything. Guns had to be out there. It’s all that was in the news as of late. Civilians and their personal armory stashes.

  I loved my shovel, felt good in my hands, and now I had one of Josh’s hand shovels in my back pocket, too. Dave’s pitchfork was tough. He had Josh’s other hand shovel. And Allison seemed to have mastered the multitude of hedge clipper uses.

  We must have resembled crazed farmers scampering between trees and out into the back parking lot of the Distillery.

  The woman still screamed. Not constant. Not always calling for help. She was clearly in trouble. Being chased, was my guess. We needed to hurry.

  I chanced a look up at Ridge Road. We were at least a few hundred yards from the main street. Behind the restaurant was a Hampton Inn. Cars in the lot. From here, without the burst of cries and screaming, it looked peaceful. Not much different from the Marriott, just smaller.

  “There she is.” Dave pointed.

  The woman wore a grey knee-length skirt, what once must have been a nicely pressed white blouse. She carried heels in one hand as she ran in the grass, toward Hoover Drive. A fast zombie in a dark business suit, complete with a thin black tie, was right behind her. He reached for her, swiping passes with bloated blue hands. She serpentined. Left. Right. Doubling back. Good moves. She was like an over-dressed running back. Her shoes the ball.

  We ran at her. At the businessman. Dave had his pitchfork tines out front, ready to thrust them through the zombie. The closer we got to them; I raised my shovel, ready to bat his head into the outfield. Allison just ran, her clippers in one hand, not worrying about readying her weapon until the last minute, less it slow down her approach.

  Just feet from saving her, the businessman won.

  He tackled her, and tried to bury his head onto her shoulder. She let out a blood-curdling scream and arched her back and bucked him off her.

  Dave reached them first.

  He drove the pitchfork into the guy’s back and hoisted him off the fallen woman as easily as bailing hay. Thick black blood oozed from the puncture wounds. Dave leaned his weight onto the fork, not letting the zombie roll over, stand up, or move at all.

  Allison stood in front of Businessman’s head. She spread the clippers wide. She got into a stance, one foot by each of his shoulders. Almost like eyeing a putt, she dropped the teeth of the clippers low, a blade on either side of its neck, and chopped. Hard. It did not cut off his head. It did bite into his throat, severed arteries. She repeated the process, over and over and over.

  I held out a hand.

  The woman took it. Her other hand was pressed onto her upper chest, just below the shoulder. Blood stained the blouse, where before some bleach and cold water might have washed out the dirt and grass stains.

  “Were you bit?”

  “No. It’s not my blood. He didn’t bite me. I’ve been in there, in the back office, locked in the back office for days now. Days. I just wanted to sneak out. Get something to eat,” the woman said. She babbled. She shook. Shock, I thought. She’s going into shock. “The kitchen was close. I’d done it earlier. Should have grabbed more food. I just took what I could carry. I needed more. The monitors showed it was clear. No one was in the halls. I didn’t see anyone in the hallway.”

  Her name-tag read, HELLO, I AM SUES MELIA.

  “Sues?” I said. I pronounced it like zoos, with an “S.”

  She stopped talking. Stared at me.

  I pointed to my chest, and looked at where her name-tag was pinned to her blouse. She looked down, snorted out a laugh.

  “Are you okay?” I said.

  I heard it first. In the silence that surrounded us, it was like thunder.

  “He almost bit me,” she said.

  She pulled at her blouse.

  I stuck my fingers into the holes of her blouse and tore the fabric, pulling the sleeve clear off. She gave me a harsh look, brows furrowed.

  “That was an expensive blouse.”

  “It was ruined, Sues. I just wanted to be sure your skin wasn’t broken.”

  She opened her mouth to say something else. I held up a finger.

  “I don’t care about the blouse. Really, I don’t. I just, you know what? I just don’t want to change. I don’t want to become one of those things. Because, you know, he almost bit me.”

  “But he didn’t. I don’t see any broken skin. We’ll keep an eye on it. But I think you will be okay,” I said. I had no way of knowing. I made my hand into a fist. Stop. Listen.

  “Should I cut my arm off? Will that--”

  “Shhhh,” I said.

  Dave looked around. Looked up.

  Allison pointed. “There it is!”

  It was the steady thump, thump, thump of a rotor blade. A white helicopter with a green stripe by the tail rotor. “Border patrol,” I said.

  Dave raised his arms. I grabbed at his elbow, pulled them down.

  “Wait,” I said.

  As if on cue, gunfire erupted from the cockpit. In the darkness, the bullets were like Roman Candles spraying all over Ridge Road.

  Someone let out a Hell Yeah. Might have been me. May have been all of us.

  “We need to flag them down,” Allison shouted.

  I shook my head. “Not a good idea. From up there, we probably don’t look much different than the zombies. We should find cover.”

  No one moved, though.

  It was awe-inspiring. The helicopter hovered just above the expressway ramp. Bullets rained down in glorious sprays that penetrated and obliterated the walking dead.

  When the gunfire stopped, we whooped and hollered. There was a chance we’d beat this. Not just the four of us, but humanity. All was not lost. I swore I saw a rainbow arc over Ridge Road. Okay, it may have been imagined, but if one had appeared, it would have been as appropriate as hell.

  The celebration was cut short.

  The helicopter pivoted. The tail was degrees higher than the cockpit. It looked menacing when it faced us. It became threatening when it came at us.

  Dave grabbed my hand. Tore Sues’ blouse sleeve from my grasp.

  “Run,” I said, turning.

  Dave jumped up and down. He waved the white sleeve over his head like a surrendering flag. He had the right idea.

  We all jumped up and down again, flagging the air with waves of our arms. The piece of shirt made the difference. It was an intelligent sign. Zombies appeared dumb as fuck. Hungry, but brainless.

  The helicopter stayed over the back lot of the restaurant. Suddenly, I thought running might have been the better plan.

  Allison took my hand. Another sign we weren’t mindless creatures.

  Sues took a stance like she was ready to sprint at the helicopter. I took her hand. Looked at her. I had to yell to be heard over the spinning rotors. “No sudden moves.
They’ll shoot us all.”

  A speaker crackled. “Stay where you are! A Humvee will be by in an hour to pick you up. Wave your flag if you copy.”

  Dave waved the sleeve.

  The front of the helicopter tipped forward, then lifted and spun around and flew away. We stood statue, still watching it fly north. I felt deflated. Help was coming. The chopper was leaving.

  I still didn’t have my kids.

  “I want you guys to stay here. Wait for the military to pick you up,” I said. “I will be back in an hour.”

  It was a lie. Mostly. If my kids were not at my place, I wasn’t coming back. I wouldn’t give up on them just because the Border Patrol was sending out a rescue team.

  Allison still held my hand. She squeezed it. “Dave, you watch Sues, here. Make sure she’s okay. Chase and I will be right back.”

  I wasn’t arguing with her. I wanted her with me. Might be selfish, but I don’t think I could handle being separated from her any better than I could, not having my kids.

  “We’re a team, guys. I’m going too,” Dave said.

  “I seriously need you to stay. Sues is in no condition to run with us. That’s what we’re going to be doing. Running. You need to stay with her. Watch over her. She needs protection right now. An hour is a long time. The noise that chopper made, it might have attracted more zombies than it wiped out, and you know what I mean?” I said. “I promised your brother I’d take care of you. Man, that sounds wrong. You are more than capable of . . . I promised him we’d be friends. As your friend, Dave, you waiting for the Border Patrol is the best bet. For all of us. We’re going to do everything we can to be back in time.”

  Dave had a freaking tear. “Stop, man,” I said. I pulled him into a hug. “We’re going to be right back. Okay.”

  “What if you’re not?”

  “You got your radio?” He patted it, where it was clipped to his hip. “You tell me where the base is. And we’ll come find you guys. Okay? Please, Dave. Do this for me.”

  “Take care of her,” Dave thumbed a finger over his shoulder.

  I nodded.

  “Go then. Run. Hurry,” Dave said. “Go!”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  A vehicle wrapped around a telephone pole is the first thing I noticed as Allison and I crossed Stone Rd, and headed into the apartment complex. Someone was inside the car. Blood splattered the cracked front windshield. I couldn’t pull open the driver’s door. It was bent and crushed.

  “Try the passenger door,” I said.

  “Stuck shut,” Allison said.

  I knocked on the window. “Hey, hey,” I said.

  The person inside did not move. Looked like the engine back was on his lap. We weren’t going to get him out. It did not look like he was alive. I saw no signs of breathing.

  I walked to the pole. It was split. The wires above kept it suspended. “Come on,” I said. “Nothing we can do here.”

  Allison stared at the car as we walked into the complex, toward my building at the back.

  My heart raced. I thought it might pop open behind my ribcage. I had no clue what to think. What to expect. I only knew what I hoped, and I was afraid I’d jinx it if I allowed even a hint of light into the darkness that made up my thoughts the last several days.

  We stayed close to each of the buildings. Since the copter left, I hadn’t seen a single zombie. Didn’t mean they weren’t around. They were. Had to be. I just wasn’t in any mood to encounter a single one.

  The nondescript brick buildings mirrored each other. Parking was a nightmare anyway, but right now, it was unnavigable. Abandoned cars askew all over the place. Made Allison’s words replay over in my head. Getting to Mexico seemed impossible, if only improbable at best.

  We rounded the last corner, and saw two zombies milling absently about. We hunkered down. They looked like slow ones. What have since become my favorite. I wasn’t foolish about it though. Getting overpowered by a group of slow zombies could happen as easily as getting taken down by a fast one.

  “Do we take them out?” Allison said.

  I made sure I only saw the two. They were it. “I think we should. Quietly.”

  It was, best I could remember, the first time we attacked them, instead of us waiting to be attacked. “On three,” I said, smiling.

  One. Two. Three.

  We stood.

  They saw us. They stopped. Stared.

  We charged. No battle cry. Just with weapons raised.

  They walked toward us, too fucking dumb to realize they were about to have their shit kicked out of them.

  It was hardly a fight. I smacked the shovel blade into the side its head. It crumbled to the pavement, stood on its knees. I raised the blade above my head and brought it down crushing his skull. Goo oozed from its ears as it fell forward, face first.

  Allison was pulling the closed blades of her clippers out of the second zombie’s throat.

  “Daddy!”

  I heard it. It echoed.

  “Dad! Daddy!”

  Two voices. I spun around to stare up at my apartment window. Their faces pressed against the mesh of the screen.

  I dropped my shovel. My hands rolled into fists. “Stay there. Stay right there!”

  I ran for the door, through it, and up the stairs to my apartment. I threw open the door.

  They were still on the couch, curtains parted.

  “What have I told you guys about shoes on my furniture,” I said, my eyes filled with tears, impossible to swallow the heart that filled my throat. “Get over here!”

  Cash bounced on the cushion, into the air and wrapped his arms around my leg before I could even drop to my knees. He wasn’t letting go, though. I had to loosen his grip. He re-wrapped around too tight around my neck. I didn’t stop him, didn’t need to breathe.

  “Daddy,” he said. “Dad!”

  Charlene was beside me. She knelt, too. She hugged me tight. I fit my arms around them both. “I knew I’d find you guys. I knew you were okay. I never stopped looking, never stopped.”

  Allison stepped into the room. She wiped tears away.

  “Get down here,” I said, grabbing her arm.

  “Hi, Allison,” Cash said.

  She messed his hair. “Hey there, Cash.”

  Charlene didn’t say hello, but she did let an arm snake around Allison’s shoulders.

  # # #

  I dumped crap out of my backpack. I snatched my phone charger for Charlene’s phone into the bag, then emptied canned goods from the cupboards. I snatched some jeans and shirts from my dresser and the kid’s dresser. The bag was popping-full, tough to zipper back up. I put batteries and my pocketknives into the front zipper area, and clipped one into the pocket of the pants I wore.

  “I don’t know what else to grab,” I said.

  The kids sat side-by-side on the sofa. Cash kicked his legs.

  “I don’t think we have the time to worry about it,” Allison said.

  “Where are we going, Dad,” Charlene said.

  “Away from here,” I said. “Somewhere safe.”

  They both smiled. Allison, too. I might have been, as well.

  “Daddy?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “I want to bring my ax,” Charlene said.

  She walked to the door. It leaned against the jamb. She grabbed the handle. The blade was coated in blood.

  I did not want my daughter to carry an ax. She was my little girl. She’d endured some tough situations, no doubt, but I was here. Daddy was here. She was safe.

  She was safe.

  Or was she. Were any of us?

  She had used that ax to save not only herself, but Cash, too. She’d demonstrated a strength and maturity, and courage that most adults never exhibit.

  I did not want my daughter to carry an ax, but instead of saying no, I said, “Of course, you can.”

  Chapter Forty

  The four of us left my apartment. The backpack was slung over a shoulder; I held hands with my kids
as we stepped outside. I did not want to risk letting go. Ever.

  A hint of morning touched the western sky. Red-lit altostratus clouds spread thin across the distant horizon. I took it as a good omen. Right now, everything seemed like a good omen.

  “We need to hurry,” Allison said. “I have no idea how long we’ve been gone.”

  “We’ll make it,” I said.

  “Make what?” Cash said.

  “Help.” I pursed my lips. We had been gone a while. We had over a quarter of a mile to go to get back. We’d make it. We had to. I could image Dave holding the Humvee. Keeping it there, even an extra ten minutes -- buying time for us to return. “We need to move fast. Stay low, and keep quiet, okay?”

  Again, we stayed close to the buildings. We made our way across the parking lot, using cars for cover until the next building. At Stone, we passed by the car that was wrapped around the pole without stopping. The man inside had not moved, was still slumped over the steering wheel. I felt a little better about him being dead. I had no idea how I’d of helped him, had he been alive and trapped.

  The plaza we crossed housed a pet, liquor, and toy store. Soho Bagels was a favorite of mine. Great coffee, awesome breakfast sandwiches. The sidewalks along the strip plaza were bare. By bare, I meant zombieless.

  I listened for choppers. Heard none. Nothing.

  We were making good time.

  Getting back to Dave and Sues would be easy. Hopefully, once we returned, it wouldn’t be long before the Humvee arrived.

  “Chase,” Allison said. Hated the tone she used. It shook in her throat. It meant she was scared.

  “Look,” she said.

  In the parking lot, halfway between Ridge Road and where we were, five fast zombies ran at us.

  “Ah, shit,” I said.

  “Daddy,” Cash said. “That’s not a--”

  “Not now, buddy.” I grabbed the door to a dental office. Too much glass. The front window. The door itself. But it was closest, and it was unlocked. “Inside, everyone. Now.”

  I didn’t get this far to be eaten now.

  Allison had the kids by the hand as I labored at pulling the door closed. It was set to close slowly. Hated that. As it shut, I realized there was no way to lock it. Was a key lock. I did not have a key.