by Dean James
“We’ve got to get moving,” I said. “We need to find food and water, and I need to cover myself a bit better. This whole frozen Dan thing doesn’t quite fit my staying alive lifestyle.” Gingerly I slipped my arms into my coat, the rough material like steel wool against my still sensitive skin.
“How do we get out? We still don’t know what’s outside,” Abby replied.
“I’ll have to go check,” I said grabbing my trusty zombie skull crusher.
With the light of the morning streaming through the porous barn, I could finally get a good look at the gore spread across my clothes. My white shirt was stained a dull rust color that spread from below my neck and onto my boxers. My drab green jacket had been painted with bloody spatter, congealing into a thick crust along the top of the zipper.
“Oh my God, that’s nasty!” Abby’s nose crinkled. “I can’t believe you let me sleep in that filthy coat.”
“Let you?! I don’t exactly remember volunteering its services!” I shot back, opening the car door.
Her head snapped towards me, mouth opening for an attempted response. I didn’t wait for it. I slid out and quickly closed the door before she could say a word. We had been married for eight years, and in that time I can count how often I’ve won a fight with her on one hand, with fingers to spare. However, I had learned the marital version of guerrilla warfare. Stick and move, get a shot in when you can, then run for your life before she carpet bombs your position.
My legs were on fire the second I stepped out of the car. Living in the Midwest, you learn to respect winter. When most of the country says it’s cold, we’re still running around in shorts. When we say it’s cold, we mean when you freeze to death out there, we’re not coming to look for your dumb ass until next April at the earliest. I needed to cover myself, and fast. I had little desire to spend the rest of the zombie apocalypse with world class frostbite.
Without thinking beyond my immediate need for pants, I cracked the barn door open to peer outside. I was instantly blinded by the intense sunlight reflecting off the pristine snow. A heavy thud landed within inches of where I stood. I pushed my way out the door, hammer swinging wildly in large arcs. I knew I wouldn’t have been able to secure the door, and my best hope for my family was to keep whatever it was at bay until I could actually see it.
The hammer suddenly rebounded on something that could have easily been a tree trunk. The old injuries in my hand rocketed back to life. Pain radiated in waves up my arm and into my damaged shoulder. The thing grunted as it toppled over, the earth below my feet vibrating as its bulk hit the ground.
I didn’t have the strength to lift the hammer, much less swing it. I backed up until I was against the barn again. If the dark blobs walking across my clearing vision wanted to get at me, they wouldn’t have a better opportunity. All I could do was hope and pray as the snow blindness cleared. Blobs became shapes. Shapes grew legs…four of them. Dark shapes became black and white spotted shapes.
That’s when I felt like a real jackass.
The cow I had apparently clobbered kicked and thrashed until it was standing on unsteady legs. Its left eye was partially closed, but looked intact enough. I can say I had never seen a pissed off cow until then. It made a noise at me that probably could be translated to “asshole” as it walked away with a drunken gait.
“I’m really, really sorry!” I said. Yes, I was apologizing to a cow. I really felt terrible about the whole ordeal. It glanced back at me as if to tell me where I could shove my apology. It disappeared into the small herd wandering aimlessly in the open field.
I checked around the barn, and everywhere I walked I saw more cows. It was as if someone had truly left the barn doors opened and the animals had wandered off on their own. Then the thought struck me. Maybe they had come here for the same reason we had. They were running for their lives, and found this safe haven to rest.
I walked back to the barn, taking in the sounds of the field. The hooves crunching the snow and earth below as the bovine mass lumbered along. The gentle chewing of whatever they could find amongst dead stalks of that year’s harvest. The loud plop of a cow pie as it hit the snow in a steaming pile, releasing its fragrant bouquet for the world to enjoy.
Yeah, it was time to leave.
“Did you see them?” Abby asked as I got in. Her head whipped around like a nervous deer after hearing a twig break in the distance.
“No, but I did find the makings of the world’s largest barbecue,” I said. I dropped the hammer back to the floor, and leaned back in the seat. The warmth of the car was heavenly on my bare skin. But my toes were still burning. That was a bad sign. The ache in my hand still thundered up to my wrist as well.
I popped the car into reverse, and backed out slowly and carefully. I didn’t want to add vehicular cowicide to my roster of crimes against bovine kind that day. As we emerged into the morning light, I caught sight of a small access road that had been hidden in the darkness. I turned the wheels, dodging a few of the herd as we made our way past the ancient building. The decrepit state of the barn was even worse in the daylight. It was a wonder that we didn’t end up needing to dig ourselves out after we woke up. If one of the cows nearby farted, the whole building could have fallen on top of us.
“Daddy, why is that cow walking funny?” Katie asked, pointing back towards the herd.
“Um, no reason,” I said. I tried to focus on the road ahead of me. Abby’s stare bored into the side of my head.
“Dan? What did you do?” Abby’s eyebrow rose. Her hands cupped over her mouth, her eyes glistened as her facial muscled worked to keep a smile at bay.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Did you hit that cow?” Abby’s voice all but squeaked.
“I was blinded! I couldn’t see what it was! It freaked me out!”
“A…cow…scared…you!” she paused for a breath after each word before erupting in laughter. She shook her head, slapping her legs as she laughed her own face purple. Her arms wrapped around her stomach, sucking in huge breaths before erupting in new waves of laughter.
Katie, of course, joined in on the fun. She giggled and bounced in her seat, laughing right along with Abby’s hysterics. And suddenly, for the briefest of moments, it felt like a normal family outing. After the night of sheer terror we had survived, it was something we all needed. I chuckled a bit, even if it was at my own expense.
The moment ended abruptly as we emerged onto the main road. The view was surreal. Surrounding us stood miles of farmland. Glistening snow stretched as far as the eye could see, gently rolling across the plains, meeting with what should have been a blue sky on the horizon. Instead, the horizon burned. Huge plumes of smoke rose upwards, back where our house once stood. We can never really be sure, but I believe our home was forever lost to this world of the dead.
No one spoke. No one needed to.
Chapter Fourteen
I turned the car away from the flames and the smoke. Our lives were burning away before our eyes. Abby’s happy laughing face was gone. Her lips curled downward, blank eyes staring out her window. Tears rolled from her cheeks, landing with a quiet tap on her pants. Even Katie had gone silent, which is one hell of a feat for the girl who voiced every minor thought that flittered across her mind.
I had no desire to look back either. We had spent the night hiding from walking corpses. But the tremendous loss we had suffered didn’t really hit home until we saw our lives burning away. A hopeless despair grew deep inside me as I stole a quick glance in the rear view mirror. My old life was gone.
Abby read my mind and turned the radio on. I needed a distraction from the grief I was feeling. Even if the voice on the radio delivered more bad news, which was very likely, hearing something on the radio meant there were more people out there. We weren’t alone on that cold and desolate country road.
Abby searched across the bands, looking through static for a human voice. She had cycled through all the stations twice with nothing but wh
ite noise greeting us. With a deep sigh, she reached for the power button. Her finger paused in mid air when a voice cracked through the speakers once again. The new voice of Chicago, DJ Raspy Voice, gave me a glimmer of joy in the fact that he was still alive and kicking.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. During the time that we have been off the air, we were able to rest and gather whatever news we can to pass on to you. Many of those who stuck through with us during our broadcast have left to find their loved ones. We wish them well and safe passage. There are a few of us left, and we plan to stay until the end, in whatever form that will take.
During the early morning hours, the CDC issued a statement claiming that a pathogen of unknown origin has infected populations in every nation on Earth. A pathogen that is returning the recently deceased to life.
The infection was initially thought to be transferred through bodily fluids, a bite in most cases. This appeared to change suddenly in the early hours of this crisis. It is now believed the infection has gone airborne. In the very early stages of this outbreak only living people who had died after becoming infected would reanimate. Now those who have died for any reason will come back and attack any living creature.
U.S. officials have denied previous knowledge of this contagion. Foreign governments reject those claims, stating a long term containment program had been in place for months. News of this has enraged an already panicked population. Attacks on government buildings, military, and police in every nation worldwide have been reported, with several fatalities.
Here at home, the situation remains desperate. Defense forces have withdrawn from most cities to set up perimeters meant to stop the spread of the infected. This plan has failed in several major cities, including this one. As of 8 am central time, satellite imagery has shown most defensive lines have been overrun. Remnants of the military have retreated to parts unknown.
Ladies and gentlemen, if I may, I want to take my reporter’s hat off for a moment and talk to you plainly. Our studios are on the 20th floor. We have a good view of much of the city. When the four of us tried to rest last night, the city was in chaos. Police, military and even militia units fought street by street.
When the insanity of the night peaked, the people began to shoot anything that came towards them. From our vantage point, we witnessed several teens fleeing a group of infected. Moments later, they were gunned down by the very people who supposedly were here to help. Thirty minutes later, those very same teenagers got up and attacked another group of people attempting to flee the city. The madness of it all was almost unbearable.
This morning we awoke to a different kind of madness. There are no more patrols. If there are people left in this city, they are in hiding. All we see outside are ghouls. There are fires burning out of control all over the city. On our western horizon, we see massive columns of smoke rising into the sky. We’re watching everything we know in our home town fall to ruin. Nothing and no one here is safe.
There are four of us left here now. We either have no family to go home to, or getting to them is not an option. We have chosen to stay. Our studios are barricaded, and the floor has plenty of food and water for now. There are other floors for us to raid if need be, as long as the infected don’t find their way into the lower levels. We will work to further secure our location once this broadcast is over.
Which brings me to my next subject. Power has been inconsistent. We have a generator, but we have limited fuel. We have decided to broadcast three times a day until we can’t go on-air any longer. Once at nine am, again at three, and the final daily update will happen at eight. I want to end this morning’s broadcast with a warning. Do not try to enter this city. If you are here and can get out, you need to leave. This city is lost, hell is here to stay. Goodbye, and be safe.”
Static filled the car before Abby slowly turned the sound down. She looked at me with a blank stare before shaking her head and turning her attention back out her window. I couldn’t say how she was feeling anymore than I could describe my own emotions. How is one supposed to feel when they have just been told the world was ending? How was I supposed to react to hearing the lives of my family would be in danger for who knows how long? All we could do is keep moving forward. And that’s what we did. We drove.
The road was oddly devoid of vehicles, moving or stalled. Even on back country roads, it was very rare to go more than a few miles without seeing at least one other car. Tractors were a common sight too, but winter would have most farming vehicles in storage.
I also attributed the lack of slow moving farm implements to the fact that I was not in a hurry. Had I been running for my life with a horde of ravenous zombies on rocket powered roller skates hot at my heels, rest assured there would be a harvester in the middle of the road driving slow enough to lose a race with a glacier.
The winding road took us out of the acres of flat farmland and into a densely wooded area. The trees were long since stripped bare of their leaves, leaving only evergreens as a reminder that life still existed in the hibernating forest. My thoughts drifted away to my younger days, when I would spend hours walking through the wooded mountains of Kentucky. I could almost smell the loamy earth of the hills. If I closed my eyes, I could have heard the tumbling waters of a stream, trickling its way down the hillside towards the bubbling creek running through my family’s property.
“Dan!” Abby screamed.
I slammed on the brakes. The bend in the road sent us sideways across the icy pavement. Tires bit on the pavement, and the slide became a screeching skid. Every muscle tensed up as I felt the car’s gravity shift. I was almost sure the car would be on its side before our out of control skid ended. The car rocked violently when our momentum slowed and the center of gravity shifted back just as we came to a hard stop.
“Everyone okay?!” I blurted out. I was shaking. My hands were fused to the steering wheel to the point that my knuckles hurt.
“Daddy, don’t do that!” Katie admonished. She drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs.
“I think so.” Abby was panting like she had just run a hundred yard sprint. She gripped the dashboard, knuckles as white as the ice outside. Her head hung down between her arms, her wide eyes fixed to the floor.
Before us lay the blackened wreckage of an accident that must have happened hours before. A red semi, without its trailer sat atop the charred remains of a minivan, as if the truck had attempted to use the van as a ramp. The van had burnt to the frame, leaving nothing but a charred skeleton of twisted metal. The blackened bodies of its occupants still remained in the front seat where they had died. The intense fire seemed to have prevented them from turning into one of the undead. Their heads tilted back, mouths agape in an eternal silent scream.
The truck still smoldered, its hulking body listing to one side looking very much as if it could fall over completely at the slightest touch. The driver’s door hung open. Unlike the van however, the truck driver was nowhere to be seen.
A state patrol car sat to the side of the road. The normally bright flashes of the strobes had dimmed to the point that they were barely visible. Long streams of blood smeared the length of the car. Red handprints covered its rear panel, a bloody pool gathering frost underneath the rear tire.
I looked over the area, an old feeling of dread creeping up my spine. It was not the first accident scene I had been witness to, and it was definitely not the worst, but it still sent my stomach into knots.
I jumped out of my skin when Abby touched my shoulder. Her eyes looked into mine, down to my hand, and back to my eyes again. I realized I had almost rubbed the scar on my hand raw again. Rubbing it didn’t help, there are some scars that never heal.
“You okay?” Abby’s voice was soft and tender. Her face was warm and caring. She rubbed my shoulder, taking my hand in her free one.
“Not really. But I’ll live.”
“We should get out of here,” Abby whispered.
“We shou
ld, but we need supplies. I’m betting there are a few things in that squad car we could use.”
“Dan,” she glared with one of her famous ‘you better not’ looks. “Stopping didn’t do that cop very much good did it?”
“I know, but we can’t keep going like this. We’re all hungry, and our only defense right now is a hammer. We need to take the risk.”
“We?” she raised an eyebrow.
“Okay smartass, I need to take the risk. You just watch my back. Be ready to haul ass out of here if something happens.”
“Should I wait for you before leaving?” she asked with a mischievous grin.
“I’d appreciate it if you did.”
I opened the door. Abby slid to the driver’s seat as I stepped out onto the icy asphalt. My footing was tenuous at best. I held on to the car until I was sure I could walk without sliding. My body was still painfully aware of the damage I suffered from my rooftop swan dive. Doing a belly flop onto a cold road didn’t sound much more enjoyable.
“Dan, please be careful.”
“I’m always careful,” I winked and smiled.
“Do I need to pull out your police record again?”
“That’s mean. You know that wasn’t my fault,” I said.
“That’s not what the fire inspector thought. And your neighbor’s insurance company. And the dog that never could grow hair back on its ass again. And…”
I slammed the door. Abby laughed as I pointed at her and walked away. Granted my track record for thinking things through and using caution was not stellar. In my younger years, I was what most civilized people would consider reckless. I considered it being a young man having fun. I had grown older and wiser since then, but I still liked having fun. I just kept my fun to misdemeanor levels instead of my old felony days.