Jeff’s face darkened, and George realized his newfound friend was getting angry. Jeff leaned forward, his eyes flashing with rage. “Have you had to face off against someone you knew, someone who had turned into one of those things?”
The question took George by surprise, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn’t say a word, but Jeff already knew his answer.
“Unless you’ve looked into the eyes of someone you love who’s been bitten and turned into one of those things, you have no idea. Until you look into their eyes and see that there is absolutely no recognition or comprehension of who you are anymore, you wouldn’t understand.”
Jeff continued staring until George had to turn away, uncomfortable with the look in the other man’s eyes. Jeff stood and paced the room.
“I’m sorry, Jeff.” It was lame, but it was all he had. George didn’t look up to see if the other man had acknowledged his apology, and he received no response. He looked down at the cards scattered in front of him.
A few minutes later, Jeff sat back down across from him, staring out the window. The two sat in silence for a while longer, until it became awkward.
“So what happened? If you want to tell me…”
Jeff rubbed his eyes. He looked across at George and felt profoundly exhausted.
There were no sounds except that of the crickets outside, no movement except when a slight breeze moved a branch on one of the trees. Slowly, Jeff began to tell his story.
Chapter 22
Jason was lying in bed on his stomach the next morning when he felt the fingers on his back. He had his pillow wrapped around his head and tried to ignore them as they gently rubbed, coaxing him to get up. He moaned and mumbled something about letting him sleep for just a few more minutes and pulled the pillow tighter.
“Come on, Jason, it’s time for breakfast,” the voice implored. It was muffled, and he tried to ignore it, his eyes clenched shut.
“I made your favorite…” The words were soothing, tempting him to get out of the bed. The fingers began scratching his back the way he loved.
“Momma, no! I don’t want to get up. Let me sleep for a little while longer,” he whined and shook the hand off.
He heard the clicking sound of disapproval and could imagine his mother’s head shaking as well, her hands on her hips, like she always did when she was irritated with him.
When she pulled his pillow away, he shifted onto his back and slowly let his eyes adjust to the morning light.
“Now get up, boy. It’s time for my breakfast too.”
Jason opened his eyes and saw his mother standing in front of him. She was dressed in the blue scrubs she wore for her job as a nurse in one of the big downtown Cincinnati hospitals. They were splattered with blood. Her braided hair had come loose and was disheveled, floating around her head. He looked at her face and saw that her eyes were cloudy. She grinned at him, revealing smashed and blackened teeth. Bits and pieces of her ashy skin were flaking off.
She touched his face with her hands, which were desiccated and missing much of their skin. As she caressed his cheek, she leaned over, her hand slipping behind his neck.
“You better get up now, boy. ‘Cause momma’s hungry.”
* * *
When Jason sat bolt upright, he was staring into the startled face of Megan, who had just tapped him lightly on the shoulder.
Megan stumbled back and nearly fell at Jason’s reaction, her hand clamped to her chest. He slid back on his bed toward the wall, his eyes wide with fear.
“Jesus, Jason! You scared the heck out of me!” Megan laughed, her heart pounding fiercely. Shaking her head, she smiled at him, but then realized that Jason’s expression was not gradually relaxing, like hers was. His eyes were still wide with fear as he stared at her and shivered.
“Jason?” The word was hesitant. Megan took a step forward and stopped when the boy scooted farther away from her on the bed. “Are you okay, honey?”
Megan gave him a smile that was as bland and nonthreatening as she could manage, but Jason remained backed up against the wall, in the corner of the bed.
A few moments later, as she stood waiting, Jason began to regain his composure. He rubbed his eyes and hid the wetness at their rims.
“I’m okay. Could you just leave me alone, please?” Jason forced the words out slowly to hide any trace of emotion in his voice as he covered his face with his hands. When he pulled them away, Megan was still standing in front of him, the look of concern on her face even greater.
She moved closer to the bed, and Jason pressed himself against the wall, shying away like a skittish horse in its pen. Megan hesitated for a moment and then moved forward until she was at the edge of the bed. She sat down at the foot of it, as far from Jason as she could.
“Please don’t,” Jason said, scrunching his body up into a tight ball.
“Jason, what is it? Please tell me, maybe I can…” He was shaking his head and shivering again. Megan stopped, frozen where she was and said nothing, just continued to stare at him.
The boy wrapped his arms around his legs and buried his face behind them, hiding himself as much as possible from her prying eyes.
“Please go. Just go.”
Megan continued to stare at him without moving.
Jason looked over his knees and saw that she was still there, still looking at him. “Why haven’t you left? Get out now!” His voice was ragged. There was resentment there, but the tremulous anger was a cheap façade covering up something else, and Megan saw through it immediately. Jason was afraid of her.
The confusion snapped her out of her frozen state, and she crept closer to the boy, unable to stop herself. “No! Get away!” Jason said and looked like he was trying to burrow into the wall. Megan could see the terror on his face as his eyes grew to the size of saucers, as if she were some boogeyman or evil troll come to swallow his soul.
She stopped momentarily and stared at him. Jason hid his face behind his knees again, and his chest rose and sank rapidly, as if he were desperately trying to catch his breath. He spoke quietly, whispering between rough sobs, and she could barely decipher any of it. “Please no...God please no, no Momma no, leave me alone, Momma, please!”
Megan reached out and moved her hand toward the top of his head, hesitating at the last moment. Swallowing hard, she let her hand rest on the boy’s head. He jerked away from her touch, a look of terror on his face that curdled her blood.
When the look disappeared, Megan tried for a warm smile and moved her hand slowly toward Jason again. His face was filled with dread, but he did not try to move away this time.
A single tear rolled down his cheek as the gentle woman touched his face. Jason tensed but did not squirm anymore. She delicately rubbed the tear away and moved her hand across his cheek. He faintly remembered the sensation of the bony fingers caressing him in his nightmare and held back a scream. Megan’s fingers felt warm and human, though, and the memory began to fade.
“It’s okay, Jason. I promise it’ll be okay,” Megan repeated slowly, gently, as he closed his eyes and let her wrap her arms around him. She felt relieved when the boy finally relaxed and his arms slipped around her. When she felt the warmth of his tears on her shoulder, she began to rock him and felt her own tears coming in response.
They didn’t say anything else, just held one other.
* * *
Jeff burst in a few minutes later holding one of the rifles. The woman and the boy jumped apart, startled by the interruption. Jeff did not blink at seeing them comforting one another. He was dressed, and the bandages on his head were covered with a baseball cap. He had a tense look on his face.
“It’s time to go. Grab everything you can; we’re leaving now!”
With that, he left. Megan and Jason stared at each other, sheepish smiles crossing their faces.
They were still lost in their own thoughts when they heard a loud thump below. It sounded like it came from outside the house. Before they could react, the
y heard several more loud thuds. A sliver of fear set Megan’s hands and feet on pins and needles, and she looked at Jason. He looked as frightened as she felt. She moved to a window and bent two slats on the blinds to stare out at the front yard.
There were at least twenty rotting shapes making their ponderous way toward the house.
“How in the hell did they find us already?” Megan cursed.
Several more thumps rattled the outside of the house, and they heard glass breaking downstairs.
“Let’s move it, people! Come on!” Jeff yelled up the steps as Jason scrambled to pull on a shirt he had found in the dresser. He had slept in his jeans.
“Grab what you can, and I’ll meet you downstairs!” Megan repeated Jeff’s orders and turned to run out the door.
Jason left the room a minute later with a pillowcase filled with a few things he had collected from the bedroom. As he hit the stairs, the thunder of a rifle shot made him stumble. He took off toward the kitchen and met George coming the other way.
“Get to the garage, now!” He pushed the boy in front of him as they raced in the opposite direction. George was carrying the other rifle, and it still looked awkward in his hands.
Another shot rang out from behind them as Megan tore down the steps. George motioned her toward the garage, and they sped in that direction.
“Jeff, get to the van now or we’re leavin’ your ass!” Jason almost laughed when Megan tossed the remark behind her.
They hit the garage, and Megan ushered them into the back of the van. George made a halfhearted attempt to get behind the wheel, but Megan was having none of it. The keys had been left in the ignition, and the engine turned over immediately. Several fists slammed into the wooden garage door in response.
“How in the hell did they find us?” George’s question echoed Megan’s earlier inquiry. “I mean, there were none of them around last night. Not a single one. Now there’s a whole goddamn platoon? What the hell?”
“They were probably around the area, and the noise we made coming here stirred them up. It was only a matter of time before they found us.”
“Yeah, but once we got here and settled in, there wasn’t much noise for them to pick up on. We don’t have any electricity going, we hid the van—”
“I don’t know, George. No idea.” With a shrug, Megan dismissed the conversation. She turned to stare at the door leading to the house and squeezed the steering wheel impatiently. Several more fists joined in with the others at the big door behind them and thuds sounded against the plywood they had quickly nailed over the side door window the night before. It would hold, but not for long.
The next minute felt like an eternity as they waited for Jeff. The monotonous thudding was punctuated by another rifle shot inside the house that made everyone jump.
Relief showed on all their faces when the door opened and Jeff ran up to the van. When he heard the big, heavy garage door vibrate behind them, he twisted around and pointed the rifle in its direction.
“Come on, get in!” Megan demanded as Jeff swiveled again at hearing other fists slamming into the side door.
“How the hell are we supposed to get out of the garage?” Jeff asked as he looked from door to door, not sure which was going to break first.
“I’ll smash down the door!” Megan yelled out at him, exasperation filling her voice. Jeff shook his head. “You’ll do more damage to the van than the door. It’s not some cheap aluminum job; it’s reinforced wood.”
Grinding her teeth impatiently, Megan glared at Jeff. “You have a better idea?”
He ignored the sarcasm and looked at the side door again. He studied it for a moment, and Megan saw his face shift. He turned to her and smiled.
“Give me five minutes and then lift the door.”
Before she could protest, he moved over to the side door and unlocked it. Megan’s jaw dropped as she watched him.
“Is he insane?” George inquired, horror filling his voice.
She sighed. “George, that’s about the only thing I’m certain of anymore.”
After a few moments, the side door flew open and two rotters burst in, falling forward. Jeff was on them quickly, using the rifle butt to smash in the back of an old man’s head. His skin was a dusky gray, and the rifle shattered the back of his skull. He toppled over, the force of his landing driving his jaw up into his sinus cavity. All of his bodily fluids had dried up long ago, and there was no backsplash of blood or gristle as Jeff finished him off with a swift heel to the back of the head.
The other creature wrapped its hand around one of Jeff’s hiking boots. It was probably a woman, its long stringy hair still hanging in clumps from its skull. Leaves and dirt made it impossible to determine her true hair color, and weeks out in the elements had burnt most of the exposed skin to a leathery brown. He didn’t panic as she lifted her head and dragged herself toward his leg. He whipped around and slammed his other foot on top of her head, pushing it to the ground. He had not used tremendous force, fearing he would topple over with the effort. She continued to struggle, her hands trying to scratch and claw at him.
Jeff shrugged her grasping hand off of his shoe. He maintained his balance and shot a quick look over to the open door. Seeing no one else coming, he put his full weight down on the woman’s head. A snap echoed in the garage, and he stomped her again. Feeling no more movement underneath his foot, he stepped off the corpse and moved to the door. Peering out, Jeff turned and waved at Megan before moving outside and pulling the door shut behind him.
Megan glanced over at George and back at Jason. They looked as stunned as she felt at Jeff’s insane actions.
“I guess all we can do is wait to see if he can pull this one off,” she offered weakly. They sat and listened as the volume of the moans outside rose when Jeff let out a muffled war cry. Suddenly, the banging on the garage door lessened and they heard sounds of dragging footsteps moving away from it.
Megan listened to Jeff’s taunts that mingled with the moaning replies of the infected as he moved farther away. She turned to George.
“Okay. Well, the maniac has gotten them away from the door, I guess. I’m going to open it so we can get the hell out of here. George? Can you cover me?” She stared at the big man and saw the nervous look on his face, the rifle sat propped across his legs. Sweat was coming off of him in buckets and his already pale complexion was practically glowing in the semi-darkness of the van’s interior. He looked over at her, swallowed hard, and nodded. Jason looked more assured than George. For an instant, she was tempted to suggest that he take the rifle but dismissed the idea quickly.
Megan tried to focus on the garage’s interior. Lifting the heavy door would only take a second or two; then she would be back in the van and safe. It would be easy. She took a deep breath and made the sign of the cross as she pulled on the door handle and slid out of the van.
Moving backwards, she kept one eye on the side door and the two bodies on the floor. They exuded a foul stench that was potent in the enclosed space. George opened the sliding door on the van and pointed the barrel of the rifle toward the door through which Jeff had left. Megan turned to examine the garage door’s lock.
As she grasped the handle, there was a sound of wood shattering behind her and then a loud hissing noise. Megan jumped as a rifle blast echoed through the enclosed room. She turned to see four bodies spilling into the garage from the house. Cursing, she realized that they had forgotten all about the infected chasing Jeff across the interior of the home.
Megan fumbled for the revolver jammed in her waistband as George stepped out of the van and lined up another shot. She tugged at the gun as the second blast rang out. She was struggling with the .357’s hammer, which was snagged on her shirt.
Wrestling it free, she moved next to George. All four rotters were still closing in, and she aimed at the closest.
A puff of smoke came out of the barrel at the same time the bullet punched a hole in its chest. A spray of black mist came out its back a
nd drenched the next stiff in line. Though stumbling slightly, it kept moving forward. Megan saw its mouth move, but the ringing in her ears blotted out its cries of rage.
George awkwardly rammed another cartridge in place on the bolt-action rifle and fired his third shot. Megan saw a puff of dust as the bullet went wild, striking drywall two feet from any of the targets.
“Get the bat!” she screamed, trying to steady her hand and take aim once again.
Her next shot passed through the upper cheek of her closest enemy, which was less than ten feet in front of her. It moved a half step forward, its head rocked backwards, and then it folded up like a lawn chair and landed on its back. The others were unfazed and continued coming. Megan took a breath and fired at the next, puckering its nasal cavity. A dangling piece of cartilage broke free from its nose as the body crumpled to the cement.
The last two were almost on top of her. Fighting rising panic and her shaking hands, she fired wide, blowing a hole in the third monster’s shoulder. Its arms were extended, reaching for her, and the fourth was beside it, ready to pull her down.
Megan could finally hear their excited moans as they got close. Eyes wide, she took aim as a clammy hand gripped her arm. She felt the dry, cold skin of the bony fingers wrapping tightly around her elbow, yanking the weapon off target.
Pulling the trigger, she felt a bolt of pain that was a combination of the recoil and the sensation of her arm being nearly yanked out of its socket. Suddenly, hands that had been reaching for Megan’s neck fell away and there was a white-hot burst of pain as she was knocked to the ground.
Tumbling sideways, she could feel the cold grip on her arm release as she was slammed to the garage floor. Doing her best to ignore the pain flaring through her shoulder, she rolled over and tried to raise the gun again.
As things came into focus, she saw George slamming the last of the infected up against the garage wall. Megan tried to take aim, but George was already charging at it like a lineman, a bellow of rage bursting free from his lips.
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