Lakewood Memorial

by Robert R. Best

  "The desk should slow them down pretty good," said Park, turning to look down the hallway.

  "Yeah," Angie nodded.

  A moan came from further down the hall. The rest of the group turned to look. A corpse, a man with a missing ear and arm, was stumbling toward them.

  "Hey fuckface," said Park. "You missed the party in the room back there."

  Park leveled the rifle at the corpse and fired. The corpse's head snapped back and it dropped to the floor.

  "Not bad," said Angie.

  "Yeah," said Park. "If only deer would walk as slow as these things."

  "And if only you two talked as little as they do," said Mr. Paulson. "Are we going or what?"

  "This way," said Angie, walking down the hallway. "Follow me."

  They moved quickly and quietly down the hall. Angie's back strained under the weight of the alcohol jugs tied to her waist. The whir of Mr. Paulson's wheelchair was the only sound.

  Each of the patient rooms they passed was empty. Blood and hunks of meat were scattered across the beds, across floors and across the walls. But nothing moving. Nothing biting.

  "So far, so good," Angie muttered.

  They passed a room and Angie glanced inside. A patient was hanging sideways off the bed. A large hole had been chewed into their head. Brain and bloody muck coated the sheets.

  They had cleared the room, Mr. Paulson bringing up the rear, when a corpse burst through the door.

  "Shit!" said Mr. Paulson. The corpse was an old man in a cowboy hat. Portions of his cheek were missing, and flaps of bloody skin dangled as he moved.

  The man grabbed Mr. Paulson. Mr. Paulson wrenched at the joystick and the wheelchair sped backward. The man held on, dragging alongside the chair. The man's teeth inched toward Mr. Paulson's face.

  "Someone get this fucker off me!" Mr. Paulson yelled.

  "Dad!" yelled Kristen, racing after him.

  "Dammit, dumbass!" yelled Park. "Use your gun!"

  "Dad!" Kristen kept running, holding her gun in one hand and showing no sign of using it.

  "Shit," said Park. He leveled the gun at the chair and fired.

  Kristen screamed and dropped to her knees. Mr. Paulson's chair stopped. The corpse shook, then slid to the floor. Blood oozed from under the corpse's hat.

  "You crazy fucker!" said Mr. Paulson, wheeling the chair further back, away from the corpse.

  "Dad!" said Kristen, climbing to her feet and rushing over. "Are you okay?"

  "Of course I'm okay," said Mr. Paulson. "No thanks to you three." He wheeled around her and back to Angie and Park. Kristen followed.

  Angie watched them approach and sighed. Kristen looked shaken, but Angie refused to feel sorry for her. Not yet. "I gave you the gun for a reason," she said.

  Kristen looked at the gun in her hand and frowned. "Sorry."

  "Don't be sorry," Angie said, turning back to head down the hall. "Just be smart." She started walking. The others followed.

  Things were quiet for several more feet. Angie held up a hand and the others stopped. A few feet up ahead, another hallway split off to the right. And many feet ahead of that, several corpses had stumbled out of their rooms, groaning. The corpses hadn't noticed them yet.

  "Wait here," Angie whispered.

  "Fuck that," whispered Park. He turned back to Kristen and Mr. Paulson. "You two wait here."

  Angie and Park crept toward the opening of the side hallway.

  "This the second hallway you talked about?" whispered Park. The corpses up ahead continued to ignore them.

  "Yeah," whispered Angie. "And it looks like we might have to use it. Unless there's even more of those things down there."

  They reached the edge of the opening and slowly peered around it.

  The second hall was empty.

  "Looks good to me," whispered Park.

  "Yeah," whispered Angie, casting a glance at the corpses further down to their left. They still hadn't noticed. "It's just a longer way around. We'll have to move even faster. I've got to be outside when my kids get here."

  Park nodded.

  "Hey!" yelled Mr. Paulson. "Are we fucking moving in here?"

  Angie and Park turned back to Mr. Paulson. Kristen whispered to him. "Dad, we've got to be quiet."

  "For fuck's sake," said Mr. Paulson, loudly. "You all retarded? Those things are dead. They can't hear."

  The corpses down the hall moaned and started moving toward them.

  Mr. Paulson blinked. "Well, fuck me."

  "Yeah," said Park.

  "Come on," said Angie, starting down the side hallway.

  Park followed her.

  They moved quickly for a few feet before Angie realized Kristen and Mr. Paulson weren't following.

  "Wait," said Angie, stopping. She turned and trotted back to the main hall.

  Mr. Paulson was struggling with his chair. Kristen was trying to help. The corpses were closing in, getting close to where Angie stood, leaning out into the hallway.

  "What's wrong?" said Angie, running over.

  "Fucking chair's broken!" said Mr. Paulson, wrenching the joystick from one side to the other.

  "Careful, Dad," said Kristen. "Don't break it."

  "It's already fucking broken, idiot!" yelled Mr. Paulson.

  Park came back into the hallway. He looked at the three at the chair, then at the corpses coming closer. "We gotta move!" he said. He fired down the hallway, taking down one of the approaching corpses.

  Angie moved to the back of the wheelchair. Mr. Paulson cursed and wrenched at the joystick. The corpses groaned and drew nearer.

  "Wait," said Angie. "A wire came off the battery. It must have come loose earlier."

  Mr. Paulson wrenched the joystick from one side to the other. "Damn it! Those fucking things are getting closer!"

  "Your fault, dipshit!" said Park, firing at another corpse. The corpse went into a spasm then fell, limp. Three were left, getting close now. Soon they would block the way to the side hall. Park backed up, reloading the rifle.

  "Hold on," said Angie, taking hold of the loose wire and moving it back to the battery.

  Park finished loading the rifle and shot down another corpse. Two were left. "We don't have unlimited ammo here! I was only able to grab a few boxes!"

  Mr. Paulson swore and leaned on the joystick.

  Park fired again. One corpse was left, a large man with bloody, matted hair.

  Angie snapped the wire connector into place on the battery.

  The wheelchair sprung to life and shot down the hallway. "Shit!" yelled Mr. Paulson. The chair collided with Park, knocking him forward. Park sprawled to the floor, spinning to face up, toward the corpse. The corpse groaned and reached down at him. Park tried to move his rifle into position but the corpse knocked it aside in its blind grasping.

  The corpse groaned and opened its mouth.

  A shot rang out. The corpse's head snapped to one side and its body shook. Then it fell over, off of Park and onto the floor.

  Angie looked to see Kristen lowering her rifle.

  "Shit!" said Park, standing. He kicked the wheel of Mr. Paulson's chair. "Be fucking careful or you'll be dragging your crippled ass!"

  "Hey!" yelled Kristen, pointing the rifle at Park. "You leave my father alone!"

  Park scowled at her.

  More groans came from the far end of the hall. Another group of corpses came into view.

  Angie pushed Kristen's gun down and addressed Park. "We gotta go."

  Kristen pulled her gun away from Angie's hand but kept it down. "Keep your friend away from my father."

  Angie looked at Kristen. "My friend is half eaten in the nurse's station."

  She turned away from Kristen and Mr. Paulson and headed for the side hall. Park raised his eyebrows at her as she passed.

  She stopped at the entrance and looked down the second hallway. Still clear, as far as she could tell. "Okay," she said, looking back to the others. "Let's hurry."

  Twenty-Two

>   Maylee looked quickly up and down the street. "Come on," she said. "Let's go."

  She ran to the open garage, Dalton behind her. The car sat inside, the running lights casting the garage in a dim glow.

  "Wait," said Dalton, stopping behind her.

  Maylee stopped and turned. "What?"

  Dalton was staring at the garage. "I thought I heard something in there."

  Maylee turned back to look. She saw nothing. The running lights switched off and the garage fell back into darkness. She listened. She still heard moans, far away but getting closer, but nothing coming from the garage.

  "It's fine," said Maylee, gripping her bat. "Come on." She raised up the keys and clicked the unlock button again.

  The running lights came back on.

  Something lunged at them from under the car.

  They both screamed and jumped back. Maylee dropped the keys and raised her bat with both hands.

  A small and very startled mouse blinked at her and ran down the street.

  Maylee watched it go for a moment, then let out her breath and lowered the bat. "Dammit."

  "They had mice, too," said Dalton, also watching the mouse.

  "Probably had the same landlord," said Maylee. Her heart was pounding. She reached down to the pavement and recovered the keys. "Now hurry up and get in the car."

  Maylee ran into the garage and grabbed the driver's side door handle. She pulled open the door. She cast a look in the back seat, just in case. Nothing. She tossed the bat back there and climbed into the driver's seat. Dalton climbed in the passenger seat. They both shut their doors.

  "Okay," said Maylee.

  "You sure you can drive?" said Dalton.

  "Sure I can do it better than you," said Maylee. She tried putting a key in the ignition. It didn't fit. She sighed and tried another one. It didn't fit either.

  "You need the key that starts the car," said Dalton.

  "Be quiet, Dalton," said Maylee. Finally she found a key that fit.

  She was about to turn it when a corpse stumbled into view.

  They both gasped.

  The corpse was wandering down the street, passing in front of the open garage door.

  "Be quiet," whispered Maylee, staring at the corpse. "It hasn't heard us."

  She heard movement from Dalton's seat and looked. He was pulling the bat from the back seat.

  "Leave that alone," Maylee whispered. "Just keep quiet and let the thing walk past."

  "I want it just in case," whispered Dalton, clutching the bat and staring out the window. The corpse was halfway across the open garage door.

  "It's mine, anyway," whispered Maylee, grabbing the bat. "Give it to me."

  Dalton pulled back. "No," he whispered.

  "Dammit, Dalton," Maylee whispered. They tugged the bat back and forth. Maylee pulled hard. Dalton scowled at her and pulled back. Maylee shifted in her seat and her elbow hit the car horn.

  The horn blared out of the garage onto the street.

  "Shit," said Maylee, letting go of the bat.

  The corpse grunted and looked their direction. Two other corpses came around the corner. All three began to move toward the car.

  "Double shit," said Maylee, grabbing the keys and turning.

  "Hurry!" said Dalton.

  The car came to life. The corpses were close to the garage now. Maylee tried to put her foot on the gas, then discovered the seat was too far back.

  "Shit," she said, reaching down for the seat lever. She could hear the corpses groaning now.

  She pulled the seat up further and straightened back up. The corpses were in the garage.

  "Hurry, Maylee!" yelled Dalton.

  Maylee pulled down the gear shift and slammed on the gas.

  The car rocketed backward and slammed into the garage wall. Maylee and Dalton were thrown back in their seats.

  "Ow!" yelled Dalton.

  "Dammit!" said Maylee, fumbling with the gear shift.

  The corpses were closing in on the car.

  Maylee moved the shifter into drive and gave the car gas. The wheels spun but the car didn't move.

  "Why aren't we moving?" said Dalton, staring at the corpses and clutching the bat tightly.

  "We're stuck on something!" said Maylee, pushing harder on the gas. The wheels spun and she smelled smoke. The corpses reached the car. They grabbed at the hood and groaned.

  "Crap!" yelled Dalton.

  Maylee screamed and slammed all her weight on the gas. The tires screeched but the car stayed put.

  "Dammit!" yelled Maylee, slamming her weight down in the seat. The car bounced. She heard something behind the car clatter and the tires engaged. The car shot forward, knocking the corpses aside.

  The car bounced onto the street and kept going. Maylee and Dalton screamed as the car raced across the street and into a mailbox on the other side. The mailbox flew across the yard and smashed against the wall of the house behind it.

  Maylee finally took her foot off the gas. She was panting. She looked in the rearview mirror. The corpses were strewn in the street, beaten up but still moving. One of them was almost to its feet.

  "Damn, Maylee," said Dalton. "You sure you drive better than me?"

  "Yes," said Maylee. She put the car in reverse and backed into the street. The car bounced as it hit the pavement. She spun backward until the car was facing the right way. "Now put on your seat belt."

  "Seriously?" Dalton raised his eyebrows at her.

  "Dammit, Dalton, just put on the shitting seat belt right shitting now!" Maylee yelled, sounding a little like Mom when Mom was really, really mad.

  Dalton glared at her and clicked his seat belt into place.

  "Thank you," said Maylee, then put on her own seat belt. "Now we can go."

  She put the car into drive and drove.

  Twenty-Three

  Angie entered the laundry room, Park right behind her. Kristen and Mr. Paulson followed. One of the dryers was still running, loud and hot. Stacks of linens were piled everywhere.

  Mr. Paulson looked around. "You people actually wash these things? Shit, how dirty were they before?"

  "Be quiet," said Angie. She walked to the other side of the room, where another door led back out into the hall. She looked carefully around the edge of the door. Nothing.

  "Okay," she said, walking back to the others. "It's clear for the moment. Let's get our shit together and then get back to it."

  She walked to a folding counter and set her jug of alcohol on it. Freeda had been folding sheets at this table. She undid the belt around her waist and took one of the full jugs from the belt. She used the full jug to refill the used one. Then she slid the jug back onto the belt and tied the belt around her waist.

  Park was reloading his rifle. He shook the box of ammo and cursed. "Running kind of low already."

  "Great," said Mr. Paulson. "So we'll all get halfway, then run out of ammo and get eaten. What a great fucking plan this is."

  Park looked at Mr. Paulson. The large dryer in the corner rumbled and groaned.

  "Well, here's a thought," said Park. "How about you keep your fucking mouth shut and quit attracting their fucking attention?"

  Kristen sighed, looking at both Park and Mr. Paulson. "We aren't getting out of here, are we?"

  "Quit saying crap like that," said Angie, adjusting her belt.

  "Sam died before we even got out of that room. How in the hell are we going to make it all the way out of this building?"

  "I said quit saying crap like that!" Angie snapped, glaring at Kristen.

  Kristen sighed again and backed up against a wall. She put her head back.

  Angie gave her one more glare, then went back to adjusting her belt.

  The dryer stopped.

  The groaning didn't.

  Angie spun around to face the dryer. Park turned his rifle to it.

  "What the hell's that noise?" said Mr. Paulson.

  The groaning could be heard clearly now. It was not mechanical. It was lou
d and gurgling. From what sounded like a choking throat.

  Angie looked more closely at the dryer. It was set a foot or so away from the wall.

  "Shit," she said. "It's behind the dryer."

  "Well, it's stuck then," said Park. "Let's leave it and get the fuck out of here."

  "Wait," said Angie. "We can't be sure. It could be someone hiding."

  "They're awfully fucking small," said Park.

  "And not very verbal," said Mr. Paulson.

  "It could be a hurt child," said Kristen. "A survivor. Hurt and hiding."

  Angie looked at Kristen and nodded. She hated her, but she was right.

  "We have to make sure it's dead before we leave it," said Angie.

  "Fine," said Park. "Just hurry."

  Angie stepped toward the dryer. The groaning continued. It did indeed sound like a child's voice.

  "Is someone there?" said Angie, taking another step.

  The groan became louder. Whatever was behind the dryer gurgled and moaned.

  "It's okay. We're friends." She stepped up to the edge of the dryer. "Don't be scared." She looked over at Park. Park nodded and got his rifle ready.

  Angie nodded to Park and turned back to the dryer. She took a breath and pulled the dryer further away from the wall. She leaned over the top of the dryer, looking down.

  Two small, cold hands grabbed her face and pulled.

  "Fuck!" Angie heard Park say behind her.

  "That's it," said Mr. Paulson. "She's done. Let's get out of here!" Angie heard the wheelchair start to whir.

  Angie looked down at what had grabbed her. A small child, hungry and very obviously dead. It was a small boy with portions of his scalp chewed away. He tugged at Angie's head but was not strong enough to get his writhing mouth to her.

  "Oh shit," said Angie, softly. It was the boy. The boy Angie had seen eaten.

  "Stop right fucking there!" yelled Park, presumably at Mr. Paulson.

  The wheelchair stopped. "You gonna pull a gun on a crippled old man?" said Mr. Paulson.

  "Stop pointing that thing at my father!" yelled Kristen. Angie heard Kristen's gun cock.

  Angie felt tears coming. The boy writhed and gnashed at her. His fingers pawed at her face, but he was too weak to do any damage. "I'm sorry," she said.