Feeling helpless, Jeff wanted to scream or cry out, but knew he could do neither. He was lost in a world that was already dead.
With his eyes still closed, Jeff continued to listen as the moans diminished and the sound of wet, ruptured bodies smashing into the hard ground echoed all around him.
Chapter 10
Megan cleared the small copse of trees, keeping an eye out for movement. The sounds of the infected faded as she gingerly climbed a fence into a neighbor’s backyard. The woods were too thick for her to comfortably navigate, and there were far too many places for those things to hide.
The house she was behind looked ruined, the sliding glass door shattered and scorch marks on the walls. Megan noticed a few broken chairs inside but tried to avoid looking closer, fearful of what else she might discover. Five minutes later, she was huffing and trying to catch her breath before she had to paw her way over yet another fence. The baseball bat proved an encumbrance when she needed to climb, but she was grateful to have it.
It was hard to tell where she was since the street curved and Megan could not pick out her own backyard off in the distance. It was hard to gauge how much farther there was to go. Bending over, she leaned against the fence and sucked in as much air as possible. Her joints ached, and her muscles burned. She was severely malnourished, having lived on stale crackers and stagnant water for several weeks.
Stretching her back, Megan heard a satisfying pop. She slowly began pulling herself over the fence, grunting with the effort. She wanted to sit for a little bit but knew that if she did, she wouldn’t want to get back up. Her landing in the next yard was heavy and agonizing. She stood slowly, eyes closed as she tried to stretch her stiff muscles again to avoid getting a Charley horse. When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to spot someone creeping out of the back door of the house.
The woman must have seen her from inside and moved to the porch. The split second of excitement Megan felt at seeing another person was immediately replaced with a dull lump of sadness. The stranger was one of them. Her throat had been ripped out, rendering her silent. Her lips were parted, her arms stretched in front of her as she shambled from the concrete patio to the lawn. Megan thought she saw the white of bone deep in the ragged strips of flesh hanging from the raw wound in her neck. The woman wore a dirty, bloodstained housecoat and the frayed black remains of what had once been fuzzy slippers. There were visible wounds besides the one to her throat. Her flesh was gray but holding together.
Megan scanned her surroundings as she gripped the aluminum bat possessively. The yard was filled with children’s toys, and the grass had grown out of control. The far fence looked a mile away. Her eyes darted back to the woman. Megan’s mouth twitched as she recognized her.
“K-Kathy?”
Kathy Serna was one of the stay-at-home moms sprinkled liberally throughout the neighborhood. The childless Megan had not spent much time with her except for the occasional polite wave as they drove past each other’s house or shared random chitchat as Megan went on one of her routine walks around the neighborhood. She felt a glimmer of hope when Kathy’s eyes widened at the sound of her voice.
“Kathy? It’s me, Megan. Megan LeValley. Don’t you recognize me?”
The desperation in her voice excited Kathy. Megan’s hope died as the infected woman lurched forward, her dull eyes filled with homicidal glee.
Megan paled at the sight. She raised the bat like a samurai sword and began to slither sideways, moving toward the far fence.
The desire to run screaming was powerful, but her body refused to allow her to turn away from Kathy. Megan’s legs felt like they were stuck in wet cement.
Kathy was moving slowly as well, but still far too quickly to give Megan the time she needed to come to grips with the fact that her neighbor wanted to kill her.
Megan cringed behind the baseball bat, shaking her head in denial. Kathy was almost on top of her.
Suddenly, the bat came crashing down on Kathy’s head, knocking her backwards. She stumbled over a tricycle and fell to the ground, her legs tangled up in the wheels.
Megan gawked at the bat and then at her hands. Her arms ached from the effort, though she barely recalled swinging the bat. As she glanced down at Kathy, who was trying to free herself from her child’s trike, she realized the blow had not been very powerful. It was just enough to knock the ghoul down, but not enough to cave in her skull. Megan felt a flutter of nausea at the thought. The baseball bat was too heavy for her to wield effectively.
She cursed as Kathy untangled her legs and began to rise. Megan thought that she might be able to make it to the fence, but her brief experience with Jeff had taught her something: these people, whatever they were, never gave up. Kathy would keep coming, even if Megan ran, no matter how many fences there were between them.
Megan’s eyes moved to the far corner of the yard, where she spotted a pile of sticks and tree limbs. She forced herself to turn her back on Kathy and bolt for it. After leaning the baseball bat against the fence, she picked up a thick tree branch that felt light but solid in her hands. A wave of numbness came over her as she turned back to her neighbor and hefted the branch.
Kathy had not gone far when Megan came at her with the limb. She put all the strength she could muster behind the blow, connecting across the bridge of the woman’s nose. The ripe pop of cartilage was lost in her grunts as Megan swung again. Her next blow caught Kathy in the ear. She let out little yelps as she continued to batter and beat on the creature.
A minute later, Megan surveyed her handiwork. She wanted to turn away from the mess that had been Kathy Serna’s head, but she couldn’t. Not right away. It would have been hard to tell where her face once was if not for the position of the body. Megan had kept swinging relentlessly until Kathy stopped trying to grab for her. Even then, she had kept at it until the tree limb cracked in her hands.
Megan felt faint and teetered for a moment. Twisting violently away from the corpse, she vomited up the bile scalding her throat. Her gut clenched, and she dry heaved for several more seconds, a jagged cry of pain mingling with the retching noises. Stumbling toward the fence, she left Kathy’s remains behind.
She whispered an apology to her neighbor as she leaned against the fence, wheezing and trying to gather enough strength to climb over it. It was not much of a eulogy, but it was all she could muster. She wiped furiously at the tears pouring from her eyes, angry at what she had done but even angrier at how she felt about it. The thought Better you than me, Kathy ran through her mind like a cold wind.
Megan realized that she didn’t feel guilty, even with all the anger and sorrow swimming around inside her brain. She was still alive and wanted to stay that way…no matter what she had to do. For weeks, all she’d wanted was to curl up and die inside her empty house as the world fell apart outside her window. But the pain in her arms from swinging the tree limb was a not-so-subtle reminder that she was still alive and that it was going to take a great deal of agonizing effort to stay that way. She spared no more glances back at Kathy as she climbed the fence.
Chapter 11
As Jeff navigated the fence line, he saw no indications of more infected in the wooded area. Through breaks in the trees, he could see more houses in other neighborhoods off in the distance, but he didn’t bother trying to get too good a look. He had his own turf to worry about.
The mess he had left at the pit was still fresh in his mind. The crawlers were easily avoided, but when one of the ghastly creatures struggled to its feet and began moving toward him, Jeff knew it was time to go. As he left, the last of the crowd were still taking the plunge, unfazed by the broken bodies lying below.
He crossed into an unfenced backyard, feeling naked without his baseball bat and nervous about having sent Megan on ahead. Too late to worry about that now, he told himself.
Once in the front yard, he saw no movement…and more importantly, heard no sound. The absence of moans felt strange. Jeff had never gotten used to them, even aft
er all the time he had been forced to listen while stuck in his house. Now that they were gone, he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it.
Staying low, he moved toward the sidewalk. There were still cars in several driveways, to which he gave a wide berth, not willing to risk being seized by a stray hand.
The air was thick with humidity and death. Only a few weeks before, Jeff had no idea what death smelled like. By now, he was an expert. It tasted like thick slabs of carrion rolling over his tongue. Everywhere he walked, he saw traces and residue left behind by the infected. Puddles of thick greasy liquid and green flesh were deposited in the grass and on the street. More solid matter, blessedly unidentifiable, was occasionally snagged on a low tree branch or splattered across a car window. He did his best to ignore it all as he approached Megan’s house.
Her garage door was still open, but he did not see her. An older green Toyota compact and a red Cherokee were parked inside. Jeff paused to scan the shadows and then walked toward the doorway.
As he moved closer, he spied Megan sitting behind the wheel of the Cherokee, facing away from him. Not wanting to startle her, Jeff stopped before he got to the door.
“Hey.”
She turned quickly. Seeing him standing there, she gave a halfhearted wave. Her expression was filled with a deep sadness, and Jeff felt a twinge of guilt.
When she did not open the door for him, he grasped the handle and pulled on it. Discovering it was locked, he waited for a moment. Megan had already turned back around, as if she had forgotten he was standing there. He tapped gently on the window and waited expectantly for her to respond.
When she didn’t react, Jeff raised his fingers to tap again, worrying that Megan had decided to crawl back into her shell and ignore him entirely this time. Before he reached the glass, the window began to lower.
Turning to look at him with her haunted eyes, Megan spoke first. “I want to leave. Now.”
Jeff opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off. “I can’t stay here any longer. I don’t care where we go, but I want to find other survivors.”
She looked at him expectantly, and after a moment, Jeff slowly nodded.
“Just get in the Jeep so we can get out of here.” Megan opened the car door and stepped out, forcing Jeff to back up as she continued. “You can drive…I don’t care, but let’s go!”
“That sounds like a great idea, Megan, it really does, but I already told you, the roads are blocked, remember?”
A dark look crossed Megan’s face as she tried to retrieve the memory of what Jeff had told her about the cars jammed at the entrance of the subdivision.
“I want to leave too, but I think we would be better off waiting until tomorrow. Maybe we can stay in your house tonight?”
Megan’s face went pale. Shaking her head rapidly, she took a step back. “No. There’s no way we can stay in there. I won’t stay here another night.” Her eyes grew hazy, as if she were lost in some old memory. An instant later, her gaze snapped back into focus, and the look she gave Jeff told him it would be pointless to argue.
“Okay, no problem,” Jeff said in a placating tone. He paused, thinking. “I’m sure we can find a house around here that hasn’t been broken into.”
Megan crossed her arms, her expression turning sour.
“We can leave tomorrow. I promise, bright and early,” he continued with his appeasing tone. He stepped closer to the petite woman and let his hands gently touch her arms. She did not shy away as he spoke again. “Because if we leave now, it’ll be dark before we get very far.” He let the meaning behind his words sink in. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for us to be out on the road after dark.”
Megan absorbed what Jeff said and stood quietly, her expression fatalistic. After a few moments, her features softened.
“What about your house?”
Jeff stiffened, his hands dropping away as his face went blank and emotionless.
“My house…” He shook his head as he looked off into the distance. He was still trying to wrap his mind around everything he had done. “My house is gone.”
Megan waited to see if more of an explanation was forthcoming. When Jeff’s eyes refocused on her, she realized he was still waiting for her response to his suggestion about finding another house in which to camp for the night. Sighing deeply, she nodded.
Jeff smiled, and she returned it faintly. He slid past her, between the two vehicles, and leaned into the Cherokee to look inside.
“Is the tank full?”
Megan shook her head. “I think there’s half a tank…maybe less.”
Jeff gave the SUV a wistful look before he stepped back and carefully shut the door.
“You have anything useful in your house?”
He could see a twitch of anger cross Megan’s face and then disappear under a veil of sadness. The question had to be asked, even if it stung. All their possessions, all their cherished memories, were useless now, obsolete. The only things of value that remained were items that might help them survive another day.
Megan walked to the door at the back of the garage, bumping into Jeff as she passed. She looked like she was sleepwalking. Slumping over, she sat on the steps leading into the house and put her chin in her hands. When she spoke, her words were monotone, nearly robotic.
“My husband’s gun is on a table next to the front door. There’s a box of bullets on the top shelf of the closet in the master bedroom. It’s behind a stack of shirts. The keys to both cars are on a hook in the kitchen. There are a few cans of food on the counter, but the only water left is in the bathtub.”
Jeff’s eyes lit up when he heard the word gun. Seeing her downcast expression, he worked to keep his own solemn.
“You’re not coming in then, I take it?”
Megan did not look up as she shook her head. Nodding, Jeff touched her shoulder as he moved past her up the steps, opening the door into the house.
“Whatever you do, don’t go down to the basement.”
Jeff turned, looking at Megan from just inside the door. Her back was to him, and he could gather nothing from her slumped shoulders. When she said nothing further, he quietly shut the door and moved into the depths of the abandoned house.
* * *
Megan’s mind wandered back over her experiences of the past few weeks. Flashes of her husband barricading them inside the house flitted through her mind. She remembered him leaving in the jeep and promising to come back with enough supplies to last a month. When he had returned, his arm was bleeding from where one of those lunatics had bitten him. She recalled how he begged her not to let him turn into one of those things and slipped her the revolver before passing out from the pain.
Her reverie was interrupted by a sound from outside the garage. Megan leapt to her feet, her back pressed against the door. She glanced around, trying to find the baseball bat she had brought back with her. It was sitting in the passenger seat of the Jeep. Her heart raced as she took a single step toward the SUV and then hesitated, fearful that she might alert whatever was out on the street to her presence.
A minute later, after no more sounds came from outside, she crept toward the front of her garage. When she saw the culprit that had startled her, she let out a short embarrassed laugh and moved to the edge of the garage.
An orange housecat was on the porch across the street. It had knocked over a flowerpot and was digging into something next to the pile of dirt and broken shards of pottery. It raised its head when it heard her laugh and stared at Megan.
Her stomach churned as she realized what the cat was standing on. As it dipped its head back down and tore into the hunk of meat, ripping off a small piece and chewing it, its eyes never left the woman standing across the street.
Megan could see the blood dripping off its whiskers as it stared at her, indifferent, as only a cat can be. It lowered its head again and continued digging into its maggoty meal. Its bright coat was tarnished by clots of dirt and a few smears of dried blood, but it lo
oked to be in good health. Plump, in fact. The end of the world had been good to this particular feline.
Retreating into the garage, Megan tried to blot out the image of the cat and its grisly feast.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the door at the back of the garage open. Jeff walked through the doorway and smiled at her, not noticing her startled expression or her hand gripping her chest as she leaned against the Corolla.
He carried a plastic grocery bag and had jammed her husband’s.357 Magnum into the waistband of his jeans. He raised the bag, showing her what he had collected. Megan could see the bullets and the Jeep keys through the transparent material, along with three cans of vegetables that represented the last of her food except for the stale crackers still up on the nightstand next to her bed. They had been her primary sustenance over the past couple of weeks. She couldn’t care less if she ever saw another cracker again.
“Can we leave now?”
Jeff was surprised by the irritated question. Megan looked even more agitated than before he had entered the house.
“Uh, yeah.” He composed himself and dug into the bag. “We need to get the van first.” Seeing Megan’s reaction change from irritation to anger, he explained. “The van’s tank is full. I don’t have any idea where we’re going after tonight, but I don’t want to do it on less than a full tank of gas.”
Megan didn’t say anything; she just folded her arms and rubbed them. Jeff was beginning to think this nervous habit was her favorite thing to do. He jingled the Jeep keys.
“So…you ready?”
* * *
The trip took only a couple of minutes. With no horde chasing them, they were better able to take in the extent of the destruction around them. A few houses were in good shape, while most were ripped apart with windows shattered and doors hanging off their hinges. The two of them cringed as they spotted remains scattered across the front lawns of several homes and silently wondered if they were the owners or just some other unlucky souls caught trying to escape the carnage on foot.
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