Lakewood Memorial

by Robert R. Best

  The pizza boy at her back grabbed her by the hair. He moaned and bit into the back of her head. Brooke sucked in a sharp gasp as his teeth scraped against her skull. Then pain hit and she shrieked.

  She felt the pizza boy pull away a section of her scalp. She heard him chew. The corpses in front of her, led by the eyeless man, drew close. The eyeless man moaned and leaned in to bite her shoulder. Blood shot across the eyeless man's face, pooling in his empty eye sockets. Brooke screamed and the eyeless man chewed.

  The other corpses drew near. Brooke was nearly lost in a haze of pain and shock. Her right hand still gripped her cell phone.

  The kids.

  She mustered the last bit of sanity and strength she had. She turned to face the pizza boy. He was chewing on a hunk of her scalp. Brooke saw her own hair and skin dangle from the pizza boy's mouth.

  "Fuck you," she said. Then she flung the phone over his shoulder, out into the yard.

  Please God, let them find it.

  The eyeless man bit into her neck. Numerous cold hands closed on her.

  Brooke screamed one last time.

  * * *

  "We have to get the phone!" said Dalton, pulling Maylee back toward the kitchen.

  "Forget the phone!" yelled Maylee, tugging him back the other way. "We have to get out of here!"

  "We gotta call Mom!" yelled Dalton, wriggling his hand free of Maylee and running back inside.

  "Dammit, Dalton!" said Maylee. She gripped the handle of her bat and followed.

  Maylee ran inside and first saw the broken-neck corpse stumbling blindly around. His face was still buried in his chest and he was far enough away to be safe for the moment. Dalton was grabbing the phone off its charger. He started dialing. Maylee ran over and snatched it from him.

  "Forget the damned phone!" she said, dropping the phone on the counter. "We have to get out of here NOW."

  Brooke's screams came from the living room. Both Maylee and Dalton stopped and looked at each other. The broken-neck corpse jerked in reaction to the scream, moaning into its chest and reaching at nothing.

  "Brooke!" yelled Maylee, running through the kitchen and into the hallway. Dalton followed behind her.

  The hallway was full of corpses, all pushing their way into the living room with their backs to Maylee and Dalton. Somewhere among them, Brooke was screaming. Maylee couldn't see her.

  "Brooke!" Maylee shouted. She slammed the bat into the head of the closest corpse. The corpse shook and turned to face her. It was an old woman wearing a floral-print dress and a half-rotten old hat. Her eyes were white and she chattered brown, rotten teeth at Maylee.

  Maylee screamed and the corpses clogging the hallway turned in response.

  "Crap," said Dalton.

  "Yeah," said Maylee. She turned to run back to the kitchen. Dalton followed.

  Maylee stopped as she reached the kitchen. The blond woman missing the bottom half of her face was staggering in. Her bloody, ruined jaw worked up and down and she let out a bloody hiss.

  Maylee gripped her bat tight and ran to the woman. Screaming, she slammed the woman across the head as hard as she could. The woman's head snapped to one side with a loud "pop" and the woman staggered. Maylee ran past her and into the side yard, assuming Dalton was behind her.

  She was wrong. She spun around, looking. "Dalton?"

  "Mom?" came Dalton's voice from the kitchen. "Mom, it's me!"

  Maylee ran back into the kitchen. Dalton was at the counter, phone held to his ear.

  "Dalton!" yelled Maylee. The corpses from the hallway were staggering into the kitchen. The two corpses already in the kitchen were staggering around, heads limp, but it was only a matter of time before one of them found him. Maylee rushed over and snatched the phone from Dalton's hand. "Dammit, we have to go!"

  Mom's voice came from the phone, quiet and metallic sounding. "Maylee? Is that you?"

  Maylee looked around the room. They had seconds to get out, maybe. She put the phone to her ear. "Mom?"

  "Maylee?" came Mom's voice. "Oh thank God. Is there..."

  "They're everywhere Mom, they just keep coming!"

  "I know, honey. Just please get somewhere safe!"

  Maylee looked around. It was going to be tight. "Mom, I'm sorry."

  "What?"

  Maylee swallowed. "I'm sorry for what I said, Mom." She sniffed and wiped at her eyes.

  Dalton seemed to finally notice how close the corpses from the hallway were getting. He looked around, panic on his face.

  "Maylee honey, I'm sorry too." It sounded like Mom was crying. "Just please..."

  Dalton started screaming. Maylee looked around. The corpses were close now. One grabbed Dalton. He kept screaming, struggling with the corpse.

  "Dalton!" yelled Maylee, dropping the phone.

  "Maylee! Dalton!" came Mom's distant voice from the phone as it fell. Then Maylee was too far away to hear.

  Eighteen

  Angie clenched at the sound of her children screaming. She was pacing the patient hallway, cell phone against her ear. Park had given her the other rifle. It was slung over one shoulder, slapping against her back as she paced.

  "Maylee!" she screamed into the phone. "Dalton!"

  She heard the sounds of a struggle. And moaning. And her children screaming.

  Then she heard something knocking the phone around. Feet? Hands? Her kids' hands?

  "Maylee?" she yelled. Freeda ran in from the nurse's station.

  "Dalton?" Angie yelled. Tears were coming freely now. She heard more screams, then the sound of something crunching down on the phone. Then static.

  Then nothing. The phone was dead.

  Angie stopped. She was at the far end of the hallway, in front of the window that looked out over the darkened trees and hills behind the hospital. She listened to the hum of her own phone.

  "Maylee! Dalton!" she screamed. She was shaking. Her phone finally recognized the connection was lost and dropped it.

  Angie was crying. "Oh god." She snapped the phone shut and let her hand fall to her side.

  Then Freeda was behind her. "Anj?"

  "They're dead, Freeda." Angie didn't look back at Freeda. She stared at the dark outlines of treetops. Somewhere out there are more of the things that killed my children. Killed them while I was stuck in here.

  "You don't know that..."

  "I heard it," said Angie. "Oh god, Freeda, I heard them screaming."

  "Anj..."

  "I wasn't there. Why the hell wasn't I there? My children died and I wasn't there."

  Behind her, Freeda said nothing.

  Angie drew in a ragged breath. "I can't do this anymore, Freeda."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean I'm done," Angie said, putting her forehead on the glass. I could break out the window. I could jump.

  "Don't say things like that..."

  "What the hell am I supposed to say?" said Angie, turning to face Freeda.

  Sam Shuab grabbed Freeda from behind and bit into her temple.

  Freeda gasped. Blood spurted from her temple and Sam chewed. His eyes were clouded and thick dark fluid oozed from the gaping hole in the back of his head.

  "Freeda!" yelled Angie.

  Sam pulled Freeda back down the hallway, chewing and moaning. Freeda grabbed at Angie but missed. Her arms flailed at nothing as Sam pulled her back. She kicked, her legs scraping against the floor.

  Angie lunged forward, dropping her cell phone to the floor. She grabbed Freeda with both hands and tried to pull her away. Sam pulled back and bit deeper into Freeda's head. Freeda screamed. Blood ran down her face and into her open mouth. Her fingers dug into Angie's arm, strong at first but quickly becoming weaker.

  Sam wrenched Freeda away from Angie like an animal protecting its food. He took several steps back, dragging Freeda with him. He kept chewing into Freeda's head. Freeda started shaking and convulsing.

  Angie rushed after her. Her foot landed on her cell phone. She stumbled and heard her phone
snap in two under her feet.

  Angie stopped and watched Sam eating Freeda. Cold reason hit her. It's too late.

  And only then did she remember the rifle on her back. One more failure to add to the pile.

  She pulled the rifle from her shoulder and leveled it at Sam's forehead. How long had it been since she'd last handled a gun? She couldn't remember.

  She remembered enough. She fired and Sam's head snapped back. Blood and bits of Freeda's head spilled from his mouth. He let go of Freeda and fell over backward.

  Freeda slumped to the ground, twitching.

  Angie stepped over and looked down at Freeda. Tears stung Angie's eyes and cheeks.

  Freeda convulsed and jerked. Blood ran from her temple and onto the floor. Freeda looked at Angie. Pain and fear filled her eyes.

  "Damn it," whispered Angie down at Freeda. "I'm sorry."

  Angie pointed down and shot Freeda just above the left eye. A large red hole appeared in Freeda's head and Freeda slumped still.

  "Oh god!" came Kristen's voice from the front of the hall. Angie looked. Kristen stood there, Park behind her. Mr. Paulson was out of sight somewhere behind them.

  Kristen started to run in. Angie pointed the gun at her.

  "Stop! All of you stop!"

  “Oh god," said Kristen, shaking and putting her hands to her mouth. "I'm so sorry."

  "You shut up! I should shoot you right now!"

  "I couldn't do it," said Kristen. "Sam..."

  Tears came faster now. "He was dead! I'm sorry for that, but he was already dead!" She motioned with the gun at Freeda's body. Her face still showed the fear and pain she had died in. "This didn't have to happen!"

  She looked down at Freeda for several seconds. She drew in a breath and spun the gun around to face herself. She put the barrel in her mouth.

  Kristen stepped forward. "No!"

  Angie took the rifle out of her mouth and pointed it back at Kristen. "Stay back! There's nothing stopping me from shooting you first!"

  Kristen was crying. "Your kids..."

  "My kids are dead, you stupid bitch. And so am I."

  She turned the rifle back on herself. She put her mouth over the barrel. It was still warm from shooting Freeda. She put her finger on the trigger.

  The cell phone in Freeda's smock started ringing.

  Angie stopped and stared at Freeda's pocket. She could see the phone flashing.

  Kristen stood still at the front of the hall, biting the ends of her fingers.

  The phone kept ringing.

  Angie slowly removed the gun from her mouth and lowered it. She knelt down next to Freeda's body. Freeda stared at her with empty eyes. Angie fished the cell phone from Freeda's pocket. She opened it and answered.

  "Hello?" she said.

  "Mom?"

  Maylee.

  * * *

  Maylee stood in the middle of the street just in front of what was left of her house. Dalton stood next to her, looking scared but unhurt. She held her bat in one hand and Brooke's cell phone in the other. She'd found it in the middle of the yard, where Brooke appeared to have thrown it. That or she made it out here, then went back into the house before ...

  "Maylee?" said Mom's voice on the phone. "Oh my god. Are you okay? Is Dalton okay?"

  "We're both fine. We tried calling your phone but it wouldn't answer. Finally I remembered Freeda's number. Brooke..." Maylee paused and swallowed.

  When she and Dalton had escaped the kitchen, dropping the phone and ducking under the grasp of the corpses, their first thought had been to run around to the front of the house. That was the way Brooke had been running when they separated, and that was where Brooke's screaming had come from.

  And that's where they had found what was left of Brooke. She had been torn open. Like a bag of meat and organs. And those things, those corpses that somehow still walked and ate, were crouching down next to her, pulling out hunks of her and eating. They had looked vacantly at Maylee and Dalton as they chewed.

  "Why aren't they attacking us?" Dalton had asked.

  "Because they already have food," Maylee had responded. "As soon as they run out, we'll be next."

  Brooke's head had been the only recognizable part of her left. Her hair spread out toward the sidewalk. Her open eyes stared at Maylee and Dalton.

  Maylee tried not to think of Brooke. Tried to focus on Mom's voice on the phone. "They got her, Mom."

  "Oh my god," said Mom, quietly. "Listen, you have to get somewhere safe and hide."

  "Nowhere's safe, Mom," said Maylee, walking up the street. She looked into the windows of the cars parked along the curb. Looking for something.

  She found it.

  "Maylee, you've got to..."

  "Mom," said Maylee, cutting her off. "I have to confess something to you."

  Mom paused. "What are you talking about?"

  Maylee rubbed her hand on her forehead and looked up and down the street. She could hear screaming and see corpses wandering in the distance, but nothing close. The phone beeped in her ear. She held it away from her face and looked. The battery was dying. She sighed and put the phone back to her ear. "You know my friend Stacy? We've been sneaking out her mom's car from time to time. To practice driving."

  "Maylee, you're fourteen!"

  "I'm pretty sure I know that, Mom." She rolled her eyes at Dalton. He was looking up and down the street, looking scared. "And we don't have a lot of time right now, Brooke's phone's dying."

  "You brought it up. Why on earth are we talking about this now?" asked Mom.

  "Because someone left their keys in this car," said Maylee, looking through the window. "And we're stealing it."

  "Maylee, you will do no such thing! The police..."

  "Have more important things to worry about. We're coming to the hospital."

  The phone beeped again and went dead.

  * * *

  Angie swore at the phone and dialed Brooke's number. It rang and rang, but no answer. Either Maylee was ignoring her or the phone had died like Maylee had said. She snapped the phone shut and walked to the nurse's station.

  Kristen was standing there, red faced and crying. Park was standing with his arms crossed, rifle slung over his shoulder. Mr. Paulson sat in his wheelchair, scowling about something but keeping quiet.

  "We going?" said Park.

  "Yeah," said Angie. "We're going. We've got to get to the parking lot as soon as possible. My kids are alive and they're coming here."

  "Oh thank god," said Kristen.

  "You shut up," said Angie. "We're getting out, I'm getting my kids and we're getting the hell out of here."

  "Works for me," said Park, shrugging. "Which way we going?"

  "Pick a hallway," said Angie, taking the rifle from her shoulder and gripping it.

  Nineteen

  The corpses behind the glass doors writhed and grasped at them. Park stared at them, rifle slung over his shoulder. Why had he come back? What was he doing standing here with these people? He could have been dead by now.

  "You sure guns will be enough?" asked Kristen, looking at Angie. "I'll have to push Dad."

  "Glad someone thought of that," said Mr. Paulson.

  Angie looked at Kristen, then Mr. Paulson. "Wait here." She slung the rifle over her shoulder and walked down the hallway. Park noticed she walked around Sam and Freeda but didn't look down.

  "And what's on your deep ocean of a mind?" said Mr. Paulson.

  "How much you'll slow me down," said Park.

  Kristen scowled at him. Good. Last thing he wanted was anymore fucking friends.

  It would be so easy to just blow his head off right now. Let them have one extra gun and one less person. Easy.

  Angie walked back in, pushing an electric wheelchair. "Forgot we stored these in the back room."

  Mr. Paulson snorted. "You mean I could have had one of those fuckers all this time?"

  "Sure looks that way," said Angie. She pushed the chair until it was right next to Mr. Paulson.
/>
  "Here," she said, grabbing Mr. Paulson's arm. Kristen grabbed the other one and they helped Mr. Paulson over to the new chair.

  Angie moved to switch the oxygen tank from one chair to the other. She glanced at Kristen, doting over her father. Kristen's face was red and taut. Full of anguish. Angie's face briefly softened, but the look was quickly gone. Damn right, thought Park. Stupid bitch got her friend killed.

  The tank done, Angie stepped over to the front of the wheelchair. "Push the button here," she said, pointing.

  "I know how to do it," said Mr. Paulson, pushing her hand away. He pushed a button on the right arm of the chair and the joystick-like controller lit up. He pulled the controller back and the chair lurched backward, almost hitting Kristen.

  "Whoopsie-daisy," said Kristen, her voice raw and flat. She laughed but her eyes weren't in it. Park considered offering to shoot her, but he chuckled and looked away.

  "What's so funny?" said Angie.

  "Nothing," said Park. "Can we go anytime soon?"

  "Damn," said Kristen, looking at her hands. Black grease from the wheelchair's underside was smeared across her fingers.

  "Better wash those," said Angie. "Don't want to drop anything once we're out there."

  Kristen walked over to the sink and turned on the hot water. It sputtered, spit out a few drops, then stopped. Kristen turned on the cold. Nothing.

  "What's wrong?" said Angie, walking over. Park followed, curious.

  "Great, just great," said Kristen, wiping her hands on her shirt. She sniffed and rubbed at one of her eyes. Black smeared across her cheek. "The water's out."

  "Something must have happened to the main," said Park. "All kinds of shit going on out there, it's a wonder the lights haven't gone off for good yet."

  Angie nodded. "Wait, if the water's off..." She looked around at the ceiling. "Give me your lighter."

  "I'm out of cigarettes," said Park. "Can't help you there."

  "Just the lighter," Angie said, not taking her eyes off the ceiling.

  Park shrugged. He fished out his lighter and handed it to her.