A crash from outside made us both jump, and Ben left my side to run to the window. He opened it and looked out, his whole body tensing.
It was as if opening the window had opened the door to a whole new world, one my ears weren’t quite ready to believe in or understand. Screaming and shouting had erupted outside, with bangs and explosions following closely behind. I ran to Ben’s side but he held me back.
“Don’t look.” He gripped my shoulders again.
My thoughts strayed to the supermarket and the scene I had witnessed outside. The blood, the people, the fighting. My chin was trembling but I pushed his hands away and moved to the other side of the window.
The image before me didn’t seem real.
This is hell; surely this is hell?
People were roaming the streets covered in blood. Some were huddled around something on the ground, viciously pulling and tugging, and it wasn’t until there was a gap in the crowd that I saw it was our neighbor Sandy, who lived across the street. My hand moved to my mouth to hold in my scream as flames burst from a house farther down. Cars plowed into one another, flipping up into the air and crashing back down in a scene that resembled a movie stunt. But it wasn’t a movie and it was no stunt. My neighbors, my friends were all trying to escape the hell they saw, too, but for most it was too late. There was no escaping this.
I tore my eyes away from the carnage and looked at Ben, my eyes wide and brimming with fresh tears. Everything had been so normal only moments before. I was out there, on the street, dragging in my stupid groceries, and yet now…now!
“Ben, what’s happening?” I choked out the words.
He came closer to me and abruptly pulled me into his arms and away from the window. He kissed the top of my head and squeezed me. “I don’t know, Nina. I honestly don’t. I was at work and…and these guys came running in. They were shouting and swearing about being attacked. One of them had a huge chunk missing out of his arm—I mean a big fucking chunk… just missing. I could see right down to the bone!”
A shudder ran through my body as I tried to block out the image he was describing.
Ben clung to me as he continued to speak. “He was panting and wheezing and I tried to call for an ambulance but the call wouldn’t connect. Then I heard this moaning and these other people came into the garage. Nina, they didn’t look right, they looked sick, they looked…” He pulled back and looked at me, with something in his eyes that I had never seen in them before: fear. “This sounds fucked up, I know, believe me I know, but you have to believe me. They looked dead.”
I snorted and pulled out of his arms, my eyes instinctively going back to the window. There was no denying it, though my very soul was begging me to try.
“What are you saying, Ben?”
His eyes flitted to the window again, to the image we both could see out there. To the people dangerously injured and yet still fighting, to the people beating on each other and never giving up, to the madness that surrounded us. I swallowed, feeling sick to my stomach.
“I don’t know what I’m saying. I just know that these people are dangerous, really dangerous. We need to get out of here, we need to get away, somewhere safe, away from everyone for a little while.”
I watched in horror as Sandy’s leg twitched. The people, whatever-the-hell they were, stood up and walked away, seeming to have grown bored with her. Sandy sat up, her insides tumbling out into her lap, and I yelped and gagged on the vomit that immediately formed in my throat.
Ben grabbed me and pulled me away from the window, hugging me against him. “I know, baby, I know.”
“How is this happening, Ben?” I felt sick, my stomach was twisting, and with every new bang and scream from outside it twisted a little more, ready to spill its contents to the floor—rather like Sandy’s, I couldn’t help but think morbidly.
I felt him shrug and he kissed my head again. I pulled back to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead there was another crash and scream sound from outside and Ben reached down and picked up his bag.
“Can they get in here?” My voice shook.
“I don’t think so.” He glanced out the window and I did the same, watching a couple of people pass our house. They looked sick; deathly pale and covered in blood, but thankfully they seemed oblivious to us. Ben’s pickup and my car were surrounded with people, though, and there was no chance we could get out to either vehicle without being spotted. “I think if we close all the curtains we should be okay for a couple of hours, but we can’t stay here. As soon as things calm down we have to go, so I need you to pack some stuff. Can you do that?”
I nodded, feeling numb yet getting straight to it. It was better like this, I thought as I grabbed my bag from the bottom of the closet and began to unzip it on the bed. My hands were busy and I didn’t have to think about what was happening outside while I worked. “Where are we going, Ben?”
I grabbed some socks and underwear from my drawers and then went to the bathroom for my toothbrush. My hand gripped the thin plastic handle and I stared at it, my mind a tsunami of thoughts.
A toothbrush? I’m packing a toothbrush while hell breaks out on my driveway and my neighbors are ripped apart.
I clutched the sink with both hands and retched into it repeatedly, my stomach’s contents doggedly refusing to remove themselves. Tears were in my eyes from the force of each heave—or maybe it was the realization that this was it. Apocalypse now, and all that other crazy shit. I finally looked up at myself in the mirror. I was pale and shaky, my mascara smudged under my eyes like I had slept in it. I glanced behind my reflection to see Ben watching me with sad eyes from the doorway.
“We can go to my parents’ cabin up in Woodland Springs. It’s off the grid, isolated, and we can take the boat to the island. There’s always plenty of food since they spend their entire summers up there. We can wait this thing out, Nina, whatever the hell it is. That’s where my parents will be. Where we’ll all be safe together.” He looked almost hopeful.
“Ben, that place is miles away! How will we get there without…?” I turned to face him, unable to finish off what I was trying to say.
“I don’t know where else to go.” He shrugged helplessly. “I need you with me, Nina. I need you to be safe, and I need to get to my parents. It’s not safe here, we can’t just sit around and see what happens.”
I stared at him for a second, my heart feeling a rush of love. After everything that had happened between us, when it came down to it he wanted me with him. “Okay then,” I replied.
It seemed like a good plan. It was the only plan, and I didn’t have any better ideas. I nodded and continued throwing things into my bag, quickly deciding what I thought I would and wouldn’t need.
I threw things haphazardly into my bag. Thick socks, extra underwear, a fucking shotgun would be nice, too, now that I think about it! Jesus, this is madness. My hands were shaking and I begged myself to calm down.
“I’m going to pack some food.” Ben walked across the room and I stood up abruptly.
“Wait!” My heartbeat was going a million miles an hour. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”
I couldn’t help but think that my choice of words were surprisingly fitting considering my earlier thoughts.
The moment hung in the air between us for an unbelievable amount of time before Ben walked toward me and grabbed me, pulling me into another fierce bear hug. He pulled my face up to his and kissed me with so much force I thought he might have bruised my lips, but I didn’t care. I kissed him back, my mouth feeling like it had found its missing best friend. Tears streamed down my face, and when he finally pulled away from my lips and looked into my face, his expression was a mixture of happiness and sadness.
“Never.” He spoke the word forcefully, his gaze never leaving mine.
I smiled at him, unrelenting tears of fear and love mixing into one big wet mess rolling down my cheeks.
He smiled back. “It takes the end of the world for us to stop fuc
king arguing, eh?” he said sadly, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to mine.
I bit my lip and nodded, giving a small laugh as yet more tears trickled down my face. He thumbed them away and kissed me again, softly this time. The world had gone quieter outside, or at least the sound of my own raging heartbeat had drowned out most of the violence that was unfolding around us.
“I got a present for you today,” he said, pulling back to see my face.
“Yeah?” I wiped at my cheeks with shaky hands.
“Yeah.” He took my hand, and I picked up my bag with my free one and we went down the stairs together, with Ben leading the way.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and he stopped halfway down the stairs and turned to look at me.
Neither of us wanted to say what we thought was happening outside. Because to say it, to breathe life into those words, would be like bringing the nightmare to fruition. So I ignored the word that dominated my mind in favor of the words I needed him to know. The words I needed him to believe.
“I love you, and I’m sorry.”
“I know, Nina. So am I.” Ben tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He kept on walking down the stairs, pulling me with him, and when we reached the bottom he retrieved the box he’d thrown down earlier and handed it to me.
I stared blankly at it for a moment, flinching when a scream from outside broke the silence between us. With tears in my eyes I opened the box, and then I laughed until I was crying again.
Inside the box was a pair of navy blue Doc Marten boots.
“Now that is practical footwear.” He smiled.
Chapter Five.
I tied the laces tight, knotting them into a little bow on each boot.
He was right: they were practical. If there was ever a time for me to get those boots, I guess that would be it. Not that I would ever wish for an apocalypse, of course, but if there was ever going to be one, I would want to be wearing those boots, not the stupid high heels that I’d bought—even if they were exceptionally pretty.
I pulled the curtains to one side and peered outside. The sick people were roaming the streets, bumping into each other and then moving on. They still looked vaguely human—not how I’d expected them to look at all. Maybe it was because they were only newly dead. Who knew? That was what fascinated me the most. Apart from the blood, gore, and missing limbs, they still looked the same to me. Well, most of them did.
Emma Watson stumbled from around the side of her house and I blinked twice to be certain it was her, flinching when I knew for certain that it was. I couldn’t seem to stop the incessant chatter of nervous banter inside my head.
Hey Emma, how’s it going today? How’s work? Have you had your hair done? It looks lovely. Oh, by the way, where’s your arm? Oh hey, Dennis from number thirty-two. I heard your wife wasn’t feeling well, but man she really looks like death if you know what I mean.
My stomach turned, doing a little somersault. Sandy was there again. She was standing in front of her house moaning as if some sort of memory remained of her life before death, before her life... again, or whatever. Maybe it did. What did I know? It still didn’t seem real, but the hell that had enveloped my street begged me to argue with it.
The dead had risen. The dead walked. The undead were out there, eating my friends and standing on my front lawn, trampling all over my flowerbeds.
Goddamn it!
This couldn’t be happening. With all the curtains drawn shut and all the doors locked, we were relatively safe in our darkened front room—so Ben assumed. Neither of us knew what to do for the best. It wasn’t like this sort of thing happened every day and we had a practical survivors’ guide to follow.
What worried me the most was that no one had turned up to help. I expected the army, or at the very least the police, but nothing and no one had come to rescue us. I tried the TV again, though I knew from repeated attempts over the past several hours that all I would encounter would be a black screen with a single message scrolling across.
Stay inside and lock your doors. Do not attempt to go outside for any reason. Do not attempt to make contact or reason with the infected in any way. The infected are highly aggressive. The government will be in contact soon.
That’s it. Nothing more.
This is real, then. I leaned against the wall, my legs too weak to fully support me. This is actually happening.
“Ben, what now?” My voice was quiet, and I was unsure if I was asking him or myself.
“What now?” He turned to look at me.
“Yeah?”
“We get the fuck out of here.”
“But, the TV says…”
“I don’t care what that thing says. We can’t stay here. They’ll find us eventually.” He seemed so determined, strong, and dominant. Not the laid-back man I had been angry with for so long.
“But…”
“Jesus, Nina, ‘but’ nothing. No one’s coming to help us.”
My lower lip trembled, tears forming in my eyes again. I’m such a fucking cliché. “You don’t know that, Ben.”
“You’re right, I don’t.”
“Then why can’t we just wait and see? Just for a day or so, maybe… maybe someone will come.” I didn’t want to wait around there for any length of time, but then again I also didn’t want to step outside and be eaten alive, either. However, if there was a chance of help coming and saving us, shouldn’t we take that chance?
Ben looked to be pondering my words. His hand rubbed the back of his neck before he looked up at me and answered. “Okay. So we’ll wait.” His jaw was still grinding away with worry, but with the gun hooked into his jeans and his new can-do attitude, I felt safe. Little did I know.
A bang from the backyard interrupted us and we both ran to the back window and peered out through the curtains. Some of the sick people had found their way onto the small space that used to be our patio.
“Shit,” Ben said, his voice barely audible next to me as the gate swung inward, allowing more and more of the things inside.
Shit would be it indeed. Double shit. Holy shit. Yes, all of the shit above and much more.
Chapter Six.
“I thought the back gate was locked,” I said in horror as another thing pushed inside, drawn by the moaning of the others.
Ben’s gaze was fixed on our slowly filling patio, but I didn’t even need to look at him to know that he was cringing at my words. I knew he was thinking of the broken lock on the back gate that I had asked him to fix for the past six months. The broken lock that was probably the beginning of our crumbling marriage and might now be the end of our lives.
Typical man. You nag and nag and nag at them to get things done, and they keep putting it off with the same dismissive remark: “what’s the worst that can happen? I’ll fix it next weekend.” Well, this was the worst that could happen! Just like that, the six months’ worth of anger flared up again. This was just one of the many reasons I had been feeling like I was giving more to our marriage than he was and I was constantly moaning at him. But he’d been too lazy to do anything proactive in our marriage, around our home, or anywhere, come to think of it.
It’s funny isn’t it, even in the midst of something like that, I could still be angry with him for something which was, especially then, inconsequential.
DIY. One of life’s, and most marriages’, greatest failures.
“I’m sorry.” He put his arm around my shoulders and I relaxed against him without even thinking about it, letting my anger dissolve.
“I know you are.” The anger was still there, but when your neighbors are filling your yard with their disgusting dead asses, I guess there are more things to be angry about in the world than just your husband’s laziness. Even if it could end up getting you killed.
As the day drew on, we tried to devise a strategy for our survival. One of us needed to be on watch at all times. Ben wasn’t happy for me to be on guard duty, but he couldn’t stay awake forever and I wasn’t going to stan
d for his male chauvinistic bullshit, anyway. We had our bags packed so that when we saw our opportunity we could make a run for it to his pickup; for the time being we just needed to secure our valuables and sort out something to eat, and we’d be fine.
Yeah right.
Every time I looked outside I felt sick. The dead looked gross—not as gross just then as I expected them to look over the coming days, but gross is gross. What was worse, though, was how they smelled. That wasn’t me being a snarky bitch; that was the truth. It made me feel sick—the sight of them, the smell of them. It was a sensory overload that had been thrown in the blender and turned up to super speed. A full-palette smoothie of zombie glorification.
I let my thoughts wander to the supermarket trip, and I finally realized exactly how lucky I had actually been to get out of there when I did.
The scream as I was leaving.
The blood and the crowd around the person on the floor.
The man making a cross sign at me from his car.
I shivered at the thoughts and images that forced their way into my head as I pushed food around my plate with my fork. Ben had cooked something for us to eat, though I had tried to insist I didn’t want anything. He’d cooked chicken on the George Foreman grill on the bedroom floor, and tipped half a can of cold beans onto my plate to go with it. I didn’t even like beans. So there we were, eating chicken and cold beans, sitting down on the bedroom floor like happy-go-lucky hippies, while the world turned to total and absolute shit outside our bedroom window. This was just plain wrong.
“It was happening at the supermarket.” I looked up at him over my plate of food.
“What was?” His appetite hadn’t been affected at all, typical man, and he continued to shovel food into his mouth. He looked at me finally. “You need to eat, Nina. We need to keep our energy up.”
The Dead Saga: Odium 0.5 (Nina's Story) Page 3