by David Rogers
She might be able to let go of Joey and Sandra, though she still harbored a faint hope, desperate though it might be, that someone would figure out how to fix the ‘zombie’ problem. But Candice . . . she would rather die than let her only remaining child go.
Sighing, Jessica set laptop and remote on the table next to the recliner, then rubbed her face tiredly. She was tired, and she knew she needed to sleep, but it was going to be hard. And she refused to take something to aid her sleep; she didn’t dare. Someone might call about Joey or Sandra, Candice might need her in the middle of the night, or something else, something worse, might happen. She shuddered involuntarily, then got up.
Her parents had retired about half an hour ago, with her mother promising to handle breakfast. Jessica knew that was really just a courtesy notification; you just about had to threaten violence to keep Sharon out of the kitchen when there was a meal that needed to be prepared.
Dinner had been an anomaly, purely for Candice’s benefit, to have been an unwrap and bake meal rather than something involving what Sharon termed as “real cooking”. Jessica knew that no matter when she rose tomorrow, her mother would have whipped up something far more elaborate and involved than what Jessica normally managed for the first meal of the day.
Walking into the kitchen, she poured out the last inch of undrunk tea in her glass, then stuck it in the dishwasher. It was only half full, but considering what Sharon was likely to do tomorrow . . . Jessica bent under the sink and pulled out the box of dishwasher detergent. Filling the soap slots, she replaced the box, then closed the dishwasher and got it started on its cycle so it could be unloaded in the morning, ready to be filled up after Sharon tore through the kitchen making breakfast.
Jessica went through the house, double checking the doors, then quietly went upstairs and half crept down the hallway. The door to the spare bedroom was closed firmly, and no light shined from beneath it. Her bedroom door stood half open, and when she got to it she saw Candice had dragged the enormous stuffed panda bear in with her.
Pausing in the doorway, Jessica took in the sight and smiled. Her daughter lay on her side, both hands and one leg flung over the stuffed bear that was almost as big as she was. Brett had won that for her four years ago, when Candice was six and had gone berserk when she’d seen it at the Gwinnett County Fair.
Jessica leaned her head on the doorframe, remembering. Brett had turned to her, and given her a knowing look, then bent down and suggested a couple of rides they both knew Candice, and Sandra too, who had only been ten back then, would eagerly enjoy. He said he needed to go to the bathroom, but they should go ahead without him.
When Jessica and the girls got off the Ferris wheel, which had followed the merry go round, a kiddie roller coaster that did little except go up and down without being too fast, and a spinning car ride, Brett had been waiting for them with a big smile on his face. Candice took one look at the panda bear beside her father and shrieked in delight, tackling the bear in a full on charge, wrapping her arms around it and laughing.
Jessica felt a shimmer of tears forming, and wiped at her eyes quickly. She was done with crying, she’d done far too much of that already today. Brett had been so pleased with himself, especially later that night in bed, when he’d told Jessica how upset the carnival game operator had been when Brett had spent less than six dollars winning the bear at the baseball throw. She remembered laughing when Brett told her how much more angry the operator had gotten after Brett had won the bear, and then told him that he’d been an all-state pitcher in high school.
“I miss you.” Jessica whispered, then blinked and shook off the memory. Crossing to the bed, she pulled the covers Candice had kicked off back up, making sure to cover Mr. Bear as well as her daughter. Working by memory and feel, she quietly opened drawers, finding one of her nightgowns and changing for bed. She was just finishing brushing her teeth in the dark at the bathroom sink when she heard a car alarm go off outside.
Jessica paused, listening for a moment, then took a final few swipes at her back molars with the brush before starting to rinse it off. The alarm was coming from too far away to be her Accord. She was swishing water around in her mouth when a second alarm joined the first. Putting the cup down, Jessica quickly spat into the sink to clear her mouth.
Then, grabbing for her robe, she went back into the hallway. Somehow, she managed to pull the bedroom door closed, shrug into the robe, and get downstairs without stopping or tripping over anything. Pausing at one of the front windows, she pulled the curtains aside and peered outside curiously.
Lights were on at the Johnsons’ house across the cul-de-sac, illuminating the driveway and front of the house. She didn’t see anything amiss, but their cars were both flashing their hazard lights which indicated it was their alarms going off. As she looked she saw porch lights go on at the Zhous’ house, next door to the Johnsons’.
Movement caught her eyes, and she looked back to the Johnsons’ driveway. She watched for a few moments, not sure what had drawn her attention, then she saw something moving around between the cars. Whatever it was, it wasn’t standing, and she wasn’t sure if it was an animal, or maybe a person trying to hide. The lights there were positioned such that it caused a shadowed area between the cars, and she couldn’t make out was she was looking at.
The Johnsons’ porch light came on, and she saw their front door open. Pete Johnson appeared, wearing a robe and sweat pants. He also had something in his hand, and Jessica frowned automatically as she made it out as a gun. She was not a fan of guns, especially not after today. Pete came down the single step from his porch and walked down the front walk to the driveway. He paused next to the closest car, his wife’s Hyundai, then slowly walked around the rear of it to look between them.
Jessica heard him saying something loudly, but not loudly enough for the words to be discernable other than as a distant chatter of a voice. He seemed to be talking to someone that was between the cars, and Jessica frowned again. Surely tonight, after everything that had been happening, even car thieves would be taking a break. She was contemplating getting the phone from the living room, maybe trying to put a call into the police for Pete, when she heard him yell suddenly, saw him using the pistol in his right hand to beat at something down at his knees.
He stumbled backwards, tripping and falling to the driveway. Jessica winced involuntarily, but he didn’t crack his head on the concrete. He was kicking with his legs, but she still couldn’t see what he was trying to deal with. The shadows were too deep between the cars. She let the curtain fall and was halfway to the phone next to the couch when she heard the gunshots.
Jessica froze for a moment, then hustled into the living room and grabbed for the cordless phone. Spinning back the other way, she unlocked the front door and threw it open, dialing as she ran outside. Pete was pulling himself backwards along the driveway as she ran down her driveway, and she saw Mrs. Zhou standing on her porch watching.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” A voice said from the phone Jessica was pressing to her ear as she ran, sounding a lot more stressed and hassled than she imagined the 911 operators were supposed to.
“Yes, my neighbor is being attacked by someone trying to steal his cars, there’s shooting going on.”
“Ma’am, what’s your location?”
“291 Summer Pond Drive, in Lawrenceville.” Jessica said as she reached the halfway point of the cul-de-sac. She could see the now all too familiar sight of blood on Pete’s sweatpants as he sat up, pointing the gun back between the cars again. She heard typing coming from the phone, then the operator actually sighed.
“Ma’am, there are very few police available in your area to respond to anything except a very serious emergency.”
“Pete, Pete!” Jessica called as she came within a few steps of his driveway. “Are you okay?”
“Stay back Jessica.” he said, glancing quickly over his shoulder at her before looking back at whatever he was aiming at. Now that she wa
s closer, she could see his sweatpants were ripped on the right calf, and the blood coming from his leg.
“Look, my neighbor is hurt, he’s bleeding.” Jessica said into the phone, trying and failing to keep the irritating from her voice. “Someone’s attac….” she trailed off as she finally drew within fifteen feet. Her eyes were close enough to resolve the subtle differences in the shadows between the cars, and she saw Mr. Wagner, who lived two houses down, dragging himself forward with one arm and a blank look on his face.
“Oh my God!” Jessica blurted, stopping in her tracks.
“Jessica, keep away from him.” Pete said, scrambling backwards without rising, awkwardly moving with only his legs and one arm, trying to keep the gun steady on Mr. Wagner.
“Ma’am? Ma’am?” Jessica heard from the phone, but she was barely listening. Her eyes were fixed on Mr. Wagner as he pulled himself forward, pursuing Pete. Mr. Wagner was a nice man, a retired Delta airlines pilot in his late sixties who prided himself on having one of the nicest looking lawns in the neighborhood. She often passed him on her way home each day from work, and most weekends as well when she ventured out on errands, out working in his yard. He always gave her a friendly wave when she went by.
Now, there was no sign of any emotion on his face, friendly or otherwise, as he clutched at the driveway with his fingers and crawled after Pete. Mr. Wagner’s nose looked broken, and there was blood dripping down across his lower lip. As he opened and closed his mouth, she saw his teeth were bloody as well. He’d been shot in the shoulder, and that arm was dragging almost completely limply next to him, with only a few jerky twitches to indicate it wasn’t completely immobilized.
“Ma’am? What’s happening? Talk to me, what’s happening?”
Jessica found she had backed several yards away, and only remembered the phone when the operator all but shouted. “It’s one of them.” she said into the phone, feeling her grip tightening around the plastic receiver. “One of the disease victims. Like at – like on the news.” she said, changing what she had been about to say at the last instant. She’d wanted to say ‘like at the school’, but decided without really knowing how she’d thought about it that might confuse things too much.
“What’s the victim doing?” the operator asked, her voice suddenly less harassed and a lot more professionally brisk.
Jessica jumped as Pete fired the gun again, almost dropping the phone despite the death grip she had on it. She couldn’t help the little scream that escaped her lips. Mr. Wagner had been hit in the face, and when her eyes registered what the bullet had done, she did drop the phone. It slipped from her suddenly slack fingers and clattered to the cul-de-sac’s asphalt, utterly forgotten as she stared in horror.
The right half of Mr. Wagner’s jaw had shattered under the impact of the bullet. She could see into his mouth and cheek in a way that was disgusting. There was almost no blood, just the faintest film of red liquid that wasn’t even trickling, more like a slight oozing, that came from the injury. Despite the horrific nature of the wound, it didn’t seem to bother Mr. Wagner at all. The remaining half of the jaw continued opening and closing, and he continued his steady progress from between the cars as he pursued Pete.
Jessica saw Pete sliding backwards again, and darted up to him abruptly. “Here, get up.” she said urgently, reaching down to try and help him. She lifted with her hands under his arms, almost staggering as he pulled heavily on her as he rose awkwardly. He glanced briefly at her, then threw his left arm around her shoulders. Jessica helped him limp backwards, looking back over her shoulder, then saw the mailbox.
“Here, lean on this a moment.” she said, changing direction and backing over to it. When he had a grip on the post, she left him and ran to the phone she could see lying on the street. Scooping it up, she pressed it to her ear and heard a buzz of background noise, similar to an office. “Hello, hello?”
“Ma’am?” the operator said immediately. “What’s happening? Are you alright?”
“The victim, the zombie, he’s attacked my neighbor. He’s been shot twice, but he’s still coming.”
“Who’s been shot, your neighbor?”
Mr. Wagner was half in and half out of the light coming from the security fixtures on the front of Pete Johnson’s house. He had ceased his crawling, and was now struggling to rise. As she watched, he tried to lift himself with only his left arm and succeeded only in pushing himself over on his side. His right arm was no help at all, and the lack of its use seemed to be confusing him.
“No, the victim. My neighbor’s shot the victim.” Jessica blurted. “But my neighbor, Pete Johnson, he’s been injured.”
“Okay, there are people on the way now.” The operator said, her tone still, finally, professional, with no trace of the earlier exasperation present. “How many victims are there?”
“Just the one.” Jessica said, but she turned and looked around to make sure, remembering from the school how they never seemed to make any noise. There were lights on at half the houses that she could see, and almost a dozen people were in view, standing on their porches, or in their driveways and front yards. No one, apart from Mr. Wagner, seemed to be anything other than normal. She looked back to the Johnsons’ driveway in time to see Mr. Wagner fall over on his side again, as he tried and failed again to get up.
“You need to keep everyone away from the sick person.” the operator said. “Is that going to be possible?”
“I think so.” Jessica replied. “He’s . . . hurt. He can’t seem to get up, and when he crawls he isn’t very fast.”
“Okay, so just keep everyone away. Get inside if you can, and close and lock the doors. Try to keep an eye on the victim so you can tell the team where he is. Can you do that?”
“Yes.” Jessica said, glancing at Pete. He was leaning heavily on the mailbox, panting a little. The leg of his sweatpants was now bloody all the way to his ankle, and she realized he probably needed help walking. “I need to help my neighbor walk, his leg is hurt.”
“I’ll be here. If you get disconnected from me, you can call back and give your address again, or just wait it out. A team is on the way.”
“Sure.” Jessica said, tucking the phone under her arm. She hurried back to Pete. “Nine-one-one says everyone should get inside, stay away from . . . him.” she said as she reached him, flicking her eyes at Mr. Wagner, who was still trying without success to get up. Pete didn’t respond, and when Jessica looked at him, she saw he was looking pale, his eyes wide.
“Pete?”
“Pete!” Jessica heard a woman’s voice scream, and looked up to see Rebecca Johnson running from the house, wearing a robe that was loosely tied at her waist, too loosely. Even had she not been moving fast enough to cause the bottom of the robe to stream out behind her, the top was gaping enough that she was effectively naked. Jessica had time to notice her neighbor was a natural redhead, and that she had some rather interesting . . . jewelry . . . on her nipples before the woman arrived and nearly knocked her husband over by clutching frantically at him.
“You’re hurt!” she blurted, as Jessica staggered when she hastily braced Pete against the arrival of his wife.
“It’s not bad.” Pete said through gritted teeth. Jessica thought if it were bad enough that he couldn’t stand or talk without sounding like he was in pain it was probably bad enough.
“What happened?” Rebecca said, sounding both worried and confused.
“You need to get inside.” Jessica said quickly, glancing back to Mr. Wagner. He had abandoned trying to rise on all fours, and had now rolled over and managed to get to a sitting position. Now, as she looked at him, she saw he was making much better progress at rising like that.
“What, why?”
Jessica sighed, knowing what was about to happen. “Nine-one-one is on the way, and they said to get back inside.” She gestured towards the zombie.
Rebecca looked at the driveway, and screamed when she saw Mr. Wagner. The shot away piece of his jaw was clear
ly evident, and from this angle his nose was obviously bent in an unnatural direction. Plus there was the bullet hole in his shoulder. Jessica blinked, and had time to wonder just what kind of gun Pete had shot Mr. Wagner with before she shook the thought off and reached out to grab Rebecca by the shoulder.
“Rebecca. Rebecca.” She shook the woman a few times, and Rebecca finally stopped screaming. It might have been because she ran out of air, but rather than refilling her lungs and continuing, she looked at Jessica with a slightly dazed look in her eyes. “Help me get your husband inside.”
“Yes, yes.” Rebecca said faintly. Between them, the two women managed to help Pete hobble across the lawn and into the house. Jessica helped ease him down on the couch, which mostly involved making sure she made sure he didn’t wave the gun in her direction as he half sat and half fell into the cushions. He was sweating, and Jessica reached out to grab Rebecca by the arm again. “Get some towels, something, wrap up his leg while you wait for the ambulance.”
“Ambulance?” Rebecca asked, sounding like an uncertain child.
Jessica took the phone out from under her arm and exhibited it before the woman’s face. “Yes, ambulance. Nine-one-one is coming, but Pete probably needs that leg bandaged while he waits.”
Rebecca nodded slightly and went past Jessica, presumably to get something for the bandaging, then stopped and looked back at her. “Where are you going?”
Jessica pointed across the street, to her house. “Nine-one-one says everyone should stay inside, and I have to make sure my daughter is okay.”
“But–”
“Look, call them yourself, give this address, and you can talk to the operator, okay?” Jessica said, stepping to the doorway and peering out cautiously. She could just see Wagner at the rear of the cars, he was still sitting rather than standing. She looked across the cul-de-sac, at her house, and suddenly noted she’d left her front door standing open. “I have to go. Call nine-one-one if you need to talk to someone.”