Alive! Not Dead!

by R. M. Smith

  We waited.

  They walked past us. Undead, decomposing, rotten. They gargled, spit, and lunged as they walked. They looked like they were tripping over themselves in their undeath.

  Some were clothed. Some were naked. There were old and young, children. All of them had a bruise of some kind on their face or head. Some had their hair torn out. Some carried things like ripped limbs or branches. Some were covered in blood. Others looked almost like a normal person, except their faces were emotionless and they walked with a dead stiffness as they prodded by.

  What was driving them westward? Where did they all come from?

  Did that loud crackling sound attract them? Had another nuke gone off? Was Moses Lake still active? Had Washburn launched something into the atmosphere that alerted all undead to congregate to it?

  There were so many of them.

  None of them noticed us at all.

  We stayed hunkered down in the small car for a very long time. My legs were cramping and I needed to move, but I wouldn’t dare. For a while, Mindy fell asleep, her head resting on the passenger seat, her legs underneath her on the floorboards.

  I watched her sleep as the undead marched past.

  After a long time, the sun started to set. The undead kept walking past. When night fell, I could still hear them out there, shuffling, a grunt every now and then. Sometimes one would bump against the side of the car, or even hit the back end, but they kept going around us like we weren’t even there.

  I woke up at dawn the next morning. There were no more zombies walking past us. I dared a peek out the door. It was clear. I woke up Mindy. We got back on the motorcycle after a quick beef breakfast. We continued eastward, moving left and right through the jumble of stalled vehicles.

  A few hours later, we were a few miles west of York, Nebraska. There was a slight rise in the road ahead. As we came up it, I noticed that another large group of zombies was approaching.

  Mindy noticed the group, too. I could tell because her grip on my hips tightened.

  Then she said “There’s someone there! A lady!”

  Some woman with long red curly hair was brushing off her legs. My first thought was that she looked like Rachel. I quickly put that thought aside. The lady didn’t see the approaching zombies.

  Mindy and I hopped off the motorcycle. I ran ahead of Mindy a little bit. The lady still hadn’t noticed the zombies. Quickly I jumped, launching into the air tackling the lady. I said loudly “Get down! There’s more coming!”

  “Fuck!” she whispered.

  She had been standing right next to a van. I jumped into the front seat and Mindy jumped into the passenger side again. I looked for the redhead, but she wasn’t anywhere in sight. I kept the door unlocked for a minute just in case she tried to get in, too.

  Where did she go?

  “She’s under the van!” Mindy said. “I saw her go under!”

  “Dammit!” I whispered as I locked the door. The window was rolled all the way up.

  We hunkered down, waiting, as another wave of zombies slumbered by.

  It was a very long time before this group had passed us. I think it took almost a day and a half for them to finally dwindle off into the horizon.

  With hunger raging in my stomach, I opened the van door to get out.

  Looking under the van I saw that the redhead was asleep.

  “Hey,” I said. “You hungry?”

  Mindy got out and ran over to my side. She said “Hey. You alive?”

  The lady stirred then slowly slid out from under the van. She tried to stand but couldn’t. She reached for me. I grabbed her arm to steady her. “You ok?” I asked.

  She shook her head slowly. Her long curly red hair was full of dirt. “Not really.” She had deep lines in her skin. Her eyes had dark circles under them.

  I said “We have some food on our bike. Come on let’s eat something.”

  “Ok,” she said, finally steadying herself. “Thank you.”

  We walked her over to our bike. It was untouched. I opened the cooler taking out a bag of meat. Mindy grabbed three bottles of water from the pack. We stood by the bike eating. We were all starving.

  “You got any aspirin in there? My neck is killing me?”

  I looked at her. “Did you get bit?”

  “No. But when you tackled me, I think I pulled a muscle in my neck. It’s stiff as hell.”

  “Oh sorry,” I said.

  “It’s ok,” she said rubbing her neck. “It’s better than being dead.”

  Mindy smiled kindly.

  “Thanks for saving my life, “the lady said. “If you wouldn’t have knocked me down, I might have ended up like my guys…so, I want to thank you for that, at least.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said.

  “What guys?” Mindy asked, curious.

  “My son and my husband. They’re both dead on the highway over there.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Mindy said as she touched the lady’s arm.

  She started to cry a little. “We were heading toward Omaha after evacuating from Salt Lake.”

  “Salt Lake?” I asked. “What happened there?”

  “We don’t know. We were told to evacuate. It was all over the radio. They were saying that a nuke had gone off in Seattle and another was believed to be in Salt Lake. They didn’t know if it was an accident or what. They just said that the whole city needed to evacuate immediately. I don’t think a lot of people believed it; but my husband did thank God. He was terrified. He pushed us to leave and I’m glad he did because…because Salt Lake was hit – and that was so long ago now…we’ve been going nonstop. I’m so tired. So tired.

  “He wouldn’t let up. We kept going on and on. He would siphon fuel and we’d just keep going. We’d drive along until we’d come across a washed out bridge or somewhere we couldn’t cross. He would always find a way around it. He’s good that way, you know.

  “We heard something on the radio. He always had it on, listening, hoping to hear something, anything. Then we heard Omaha…safety. So we went with it. It was the only thing we had heard for so long. They said Omaha was safe. We were going there but then this traffic jam…and the van over-heated…”

  “You’ve been on the road since August?” I asked.

  “Has it really been that long?” She wiped her forehead with her dirty sleeve. “My God. We stayed in a cabin in the mountains when the snow hit. We had a home,” she said, smiling slightly, reminiscing about something.

  “Why do you think they nuked Salt Lake?” I asked again.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t think we were at war with anyone – at least I hadn’t heard of any flare ups with any other countries.”

  “We’re from Washington,” I said. “We escaped the nukes around Seattle.”

  “Oh my God, you survived? Did anyone else make it out ok?”

  “There were some others yes, but they didn’t make it afterword. One didn’t want to go on and the other fell off a bridge.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Mindy said “We’ve met others too but they were killed.”

  “By ramblers?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  She looked at us. “Are you going to Omaha, too?”

  “No. We’re heading south.”

  We were silent then for a minute as we ate more of our dried chopped beef.

  “The safe zone in Omaha sounded good,” she said. “That’s where we were going.”

  “Is it a military safe zone?”

  “Yes, how did you know?”

  “Just a guess,” I said. “What’s your name?”

  “It’s Donna.”

  “Donna,” I said staring at her, “I’m Dan Kingsley. Please don’t go to Omaha. Come with us.”

  “And I’m Mindy Thompson…Kingsley,” Mindy said. “And yes, please don’t go to Omaha.”

  She stepped back a step, looking at both us closely. “You seem so serious. Especially how you talk like that. There’s something wron
g…why don’t you want me to go to Omaha? What do you know about it?”

  “About Omaha, not a thing,” I said. “This is the first we’ve heard of it. As a matter of fact, you’re the first person Mindy and I have seen since…wow, it’s been a long time…well, since Denver.”

  “What’s wrong with Omaha? Why don’t you want me to go there?”

  “I’m betting it’s corrupt.”

  “What’s corrupt about it?” Donna asked.

  “We’ve dealt with the military,” I told her. We told her about Moses Lake, Washburn, the soldiers, FEE-FEEs. We told her how two guards helped us escape.

  “You think Omaha has the same thing going on that a place in Montana did?” Donna asked wide eyed. “That’s a long way apart! There’s no way they could be connected – especially if it’s been nuked.”

  I gave her a stern smile. “Mindy and I are not going to Omaha.”

  “Well you don’t have to! I just met you! How can I know if you two aren’t corrupt?”

  “We’re not.”

  “You’ll die if you go there,” Mindy said. “They have gas chambers.”

  “You don’t know that! How could you know? I’m going there! Anywhere has to be safer than out here!

  I closed the small cooler on the back of our bike and finished my bottle of water. I got on our motorcycle. I said “Donna please, don’t make me beg.”

  She snorted a laugh. “Beg all you want. I’m going to Omaha whether you like it or not.”

  I sighed. “Ok.”

  Mindy looked at me, her mouth open. “You’re letting her go?”

  “Her mind is made up.”

  Donna folded her arms nodding.

  Sighing, Mindy got on the bike with me. I started it up. “Last chance, Donna. You can come with us. We’re heading south, away from all this shit. Come with us. Your chances of survival are better.”

  “How could you know? No. I’m going to Omaha.”

  I drove off.

  Mindy thumped me on the shoulder. “Go back there and get her.”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  At York, we headed south. The southbound lanes were clear. The northbound lanes were backed up nearly to the small town of McCool Junction; 8 miles to the south.

  It got warmer the further south we went. It was still cold as the wind blew past. Whenever we stopped, we had to take off a couple coats.

  In Chester, Nebraska we slept on the second floor of a house which was connected to a Foote Café. The café looked like it was still in business even though everything was turned off or had rotted. Some of the tables still had plates of food on them. The food was long ago grown over with mold. Glasses that once held drinks were now empty. Straws covered in spider webs stood crooked in the cups. The windows were covered in half-open blinds. Dust billowed up into the slats of sunlight as we walked through the café. At one end there was an old jukebox. The glass was covered in caked dust.

  Mindy asked me, her voice catching “Is everything in this world dead, Dan?”

  I turned toward her, stopped and hugged her. “Not everything, hon.”

  “Will things ever be the same as they were before?”

  I didn’t answer for a minute.

  Then I said - and I believe this still to this very day: “I hope not.”

  JOHNNY

  The following morning we left Chester at dawn. The roads were clear. Every now and then we would pass some stalled vehicles. The gas tank on the bike was at three quarters of a tank. We didn’t need to stop to siphon fuel anytime soon.

  Normally, I kept the speed on the bike at a steady 30 mph just in case we came upon an unexpected wreck or damage on the road, but in Kansas, the road was flat. There weren’t many hills to speak of. I actually got the bike up to 50 for a bit.

  Around noon we pulled into the small town of Concordia. There was a C-Mart gas station as we came into town. Mindy said she needed to go to the bathroom. I pulled in and killed the bike.

  The town was quiet. There were a lot of trees in town. I listened for birds, but there was nothing; other than a slight squeaking noise. I thought it was probably a swing on a porch bench nearby swinging in the slight wind. The temperature was probably 62 degrees. It was pleasantly warm for the first day of June.

  When Mindy had finished her lady business, we went through the C-Mart. All of the shelves had been looted. The cash register stood open, money inside. The place looked the same as all of the other shops we had gone through. Nothing was new here. All of the glass that had been in the store windows was now all smashed across the floor. I figured it may have broken during a storm or when looting had become bad in the town.

  Mindy let out a quiet scream.

  A young boy, no older than 10, was hung by the neck in one of the drink coolers. All of the shelves had been removed from the cooler. A noose made of black electrical tape was strung around his neck. His feet were swaying slightly. The boy was naked. His penis had been cut off.

  The boy didn’t look like he had been killed by a zombie.

  Actually, he didn’t look like he had been dead that long. There was no decay on his body. His eyes weren’t sunken in.

  “My God,” Mindy said her hand over her mouth.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said, taking her hand.

  We went back outside.

  Mindy’s hand gripped mine tight. When I looked at her, she was standing, pointing, her other hand covering her mouth.

  She was pointing down the road. There were people hanging from light poles on the street. Naked. Men and Women. All of the men had their penises cut off.

  We heard the sound of approaching motorcycles. Quickly, we ran back into the C-Mart. There was a door leading into the back through swinging doors. We hunkered down behind some old boxes and waited.

  It was almost midnight by the time Donna Mattingsly finally made it to the city limits of Omaha, Nebraska. There were three soldiers who met her as she came into the city.

  She asked them “Is there somewhere safe I can go?”

  “Yes ma'am,” one of the soldiers said. “We have transportation to the base. You see the Greyhound bus over there?” He motioned with his rifle.

  Donna saw the bus. It was running. She saw people inside.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “That will take you to the base. It is safe there.”

  “Thank you,” she said. She went to the bus. Inside, another soldier was sitting behind the wheel. He nodded to her as she got in.

  The rows of seats had some people in them. Some were crying. Some smiled at her as she walked past and sat in an empty seat. The bus wasn’t full at all.

  A young woman sitting in front of her turned around and smiled at Donna. She said, “We’re safe now. We don’t have to worry about getting eaten anymore!”

  Donna smiled back. She was so exhausted.

  The bus sat there for two hours waiting for more survivors to show up. Donna slept as the bus left. Another bus pulled up behind as hers left. It waited for more survivors to show up.

  When her bus stopped at the closed gates of the military base, Donna woke up. Looking out the window, she saw soldiers lining the sides of the road. They were all armed with machine guns. There were also high barbed wire fences on both sides of the bus.

  Somewhere deep inside the base, the bus stopped. A strong, lean looking soldier came in when the door was opened. He was sharply dressed in his military uniform. His gun glistened in the bus’ overhead lights. He was wearing a gas mask. As he looked over the group of survivors he said “Welcome to Offutt Air Force base. You will be safe here.”

  Many of the passengers clapped happily.

  We heard someone come into the C-Mart. Their feet were crunching on the broken glass near the front of the store. Mindy was grabbing my arm tightly.

  “Where’d you hang the fuck?” someone with a brash voice asked.

  “In the cooler.”

  The footsteps walked across the floor. We heard a gun cock follow
ed by a shotgun blast. There was a thud as someone hit the floor. Then only one set of footprints walked back out of the store. A motorcycle fired up. We stayed hunkered down in the store until the sound of the motorcycle was gone. It sounded like it went west.

  “Is it Skin?” Mindy asked me, her eyes wide.

  I shook my head no. It couldn’t be.

  We stayed there a few minutes longer. I dared a peek out through the swinging doors. There wasn’t anyone around. Taking Mindy by the hand we went back into the store. A dead man was lying on the ground next to the cooler with the dead boy inside. The dead man had been shot in the head. “Jesus” I muttered. “What the hell is going on in this town?”

  Mindy whispered “Let’s go.”

  Hurrying now, we got back onto the bike. Mindy was looking back over her shoulder as we headed south on 81. The town was small. We were on the south outskirts in a matter of minutes.

  I got the bike up to 50 again. We rounded a small curve in the road. There was a roadblock ahead of us. Two police cars with their lights flashing were parked nose to nose in the middle of the street. On either side there were two men and a woman. All of them were holding shotguns. As we approached, one of the men on the right side of the road leveled his shotgun at us. He motioned for us to slow down.

  Mindy’s grip tightened around my waist.

  “Calm down,” I whispered. “Let’s just get through this.”

  Donna Mattingsly was going through interrogation. She was in a group with five other strangers. All of them had been stripped naked. They were now standing in front of a soldier who was demanding that they piss in a cup.

  “You have no right to do this to us!” one of the strangers yelled at the soldier.

  The soldier slammed the butt of his rifle into the man’s jaw. Donna heard it break.

  “You piss when we say you piss, FEE-FEE!” he yelled at the bleeding man.

  A cup was rudely shoved between Donna’s legs. She obediently urinated in the cup. Another soldier wiped her when she was finished.

  She thought to herself: If I do everything they tell me, maybe I might be allowed to escape like those other people did.