White Flag of the Dead

by Joseph Talluto

  “Let’s get unpacked.” I said, picking up Jakey and my duffel bag. I had another trip to make for another bag, but these days we traveled relatively lightly.

  Unpacking the cars and getting settled in took a very short amount of time. The condos were very nicely furnished, and as we discovered, furnished exactly the same. Even the colors of the furniture were identical. The offices were on the first two floors, and the condos made up the top four. Tommy quickly found the stairs to the roof, and set up an observation post. Old habits, I guess. The girls were happy to be sharing a bedroom, since it was just like old times, and Jason and Lisa were happy for the opportunity to be a positive influence for the girls. Jakey liked the new place and immediately began exploring. I was grateful to see that the condos had functional fireplaces, and Duncan had found the office copier paper supply, so kindling was taken care of. I had the odd thought that if the plague had hit later, the gas station would have a supply of those ever last logs that burn for hours. How inconvenient some viruses can be.

  I got a surprise when I learned that only two of the couples we rescued wanted to stay with us. The other couple and the woman whose husband was beheaded, as well as the teen, wanted to head south for warmer weather. I tried to tell them that the zombies seemed to be slower in the cold and we could have a few months of relative safety as opposed to the warmer climes that favored the Z’s. But they were having none of it, so I waved goodbye as they headed out. They didn’t take me up on the offers of food and supplies, so I think they just wanted to escape this place and every memory associated with it. I could respect that.

  I got another surprise when I went back into my condo. Charlie had apparently been strong-armed into trading with another crew member and was no longer sharing a place with me. I got a shock as I went into the condo and found Sarah playing with Jacob.

  “Where’s Charlie?” I asked, looking into the bedroom and seeing Sarah’s gear.

  “He and I traded. I figured Jake could use a woman’s influence. Any problems with that?” Her tone held both trepidation and challenge.

  I shook my head. I came to the realization that even though I was the leader, I really wasn’t in charge.

  23

  I leaned to the left as Charlie’s knife flashed past my neck. I lunged forward with my shoulder and knocked his arm up, while stabbing towards his midsection with my own blade. Charlie deflected the blow with his free hand while his knife hand stabbed downwards. Spinning away to the right I avoided the stab and backed away, forcing Charlie to come to me. His face was impassive, and moved fluidly towards me, his knife held low with the blade pointing upwards. My own blade was held the same way, and each of us looked for an opportunity to strike.

  Charlie glided close and struck with the speed of a rattler. I stepped back just out of his reach and grabbed his wrist with my free hand. He pulled me in close in an attempt to free his hand and I released his wrist suddenly, causing him to jerk his blade back out of the way and stumble slightly backwards. I lunged forward and my blade tagged his neck, causing Charlie to grunt and swear.

  “Dammit! I knew you were going to do something like that but I fell for it anyway.” Charlie exhaled loudly and rubbed his neck. “Thank God we keep the sheaths on our knives. Did you have to stab so hard?”

  I laughed. “Quit whining, you baby. I notice you didn’t pull your stab when you nailed me in the kidney last time. I’ll be pissing blood for a week, thank you.”

  Charlie grinned. “Best out of three?”

  I hefted my knife. “Love to. Gun cleaning for the loser?”

  “Deal.”

  Charlie and I had agreed that we needed to keep up with training, since we were going to be heading out later that day to clear out homes and hunt for supplies. Tommy and Duncan were gathering supplies for the winter from the nearby grocery store and drugstore, and Sarah was working with Kristen and Chelsea to get the new people to the community situated and up to speed with what we were trying to do. I accepted the fact that the world as we knew it was gone, and not coming back for a long time. But we had a chance to remake what had been lost, avoid the mistakes we had made, and use this plague as an opportunity to hit the Restart button on the world. That is, if we managed to live that long.

  I had been in contact with Nate when we arrived here two weeks ago, and he had both good and bad news. The good news was the fence was being expanded very well, and they had begun firing the homes south of St. Andrews Road, a major roadway in that area. They had also made a push to the north and were firing the homes and subdivisions along the Route 45 corridor. He figured the burning would take at least a month, but thought winter was a fine time for a fire. I agreed, and was going to get started on some nearby homes today. The bad news though I am sure Nate didn’t think so, was that my old friends Frank Stearns and Kevin Pierce had left the community, and were headed in my direction. Great. Maybe I’ll just shoot them once and for all. Accidentally, or something. Of course, I could hope that the zombies get them, but since it was winter and we had managed to determine that cold weather effectively slows them down to the point of immobility, Kevin and Frank’s chances were actually pretty good.

  Charlie and I faced off again, and were grappling quite well when Sarah walked in on us. She was holding Jake, who looked like he had been crying. Sarah eyed the two of us, then asked “Who won?”

  I rebuckled my knife onto my belt and attached the leg clip. I took my son from Sarah, and said “We both lost once. You interrupted the tie-breaker.” I turned my attention to Jake. “What’s the matter, buddy? You were supposed to be sleeping.” I bounced him gently and he laid his little head on my shoulder. He was getting bigger all the time, and starting to pull himself up on the furniture. His favorite game was to walk around the coffee table, chasing his daddy who crawled around.

  Sarah rubbed his back. “He seems more upset these days when you’re gone, like he knows what you’re doing.”

  I shook my head. “I know I should be spending more time with him, but it’s critical we move as much as possible while the zombies are slow.” I was actually looking forward to the deep freeze days of January when we could move in relative safety and clear out hundreds of homes and businesses. “Don’t worry little buddy, Daddy will always come back.”

  Sarah looked at me. “You make that promise a lot?”

  I glanced back at her. “Every time I leave.”

  “Thought so. When are we heading out?” Sarah was already dressed for success, having spent her morning in training with Kristen and Chelsea.

  I thought about it. “We’ll head out when Tommy and Duncan get back. I don’t like to leave the place without a veteran around.” It wasn’t that I didn’t trust the other members, but Tommy and Duncan had been through enough that they would be less likely to make mistakes. And since we still had no idea who was responsible for the bullet riddled cars we had seen on our way here, I didn’t want to take any chances. “Where are the new couples? John and what’s her name?”

  Sarah smiled. “They are out getting firewood for the condos, and the other new couple, Ryan and Amy, are with them.”

  “Okay. Well, we’ll head out when the boys get back. You want a crack at Charlie?” I asked, tossing a thumb towards the big lunk.

  Sarah’s eyes turned predatory, and she took a step towards Charlie, who retreated with his hands up. “No way, man. She’s too fast for this old country boy.”

  Sarah turned on her heel and walked out of the office we used for training. She winked at me in passing and I laughed out loud. I left with Jake while listening to Charlie ask “What?”

  Tommy and Duncan returned from their trip an hour later. They reported that the grocery store had been looted, but they still managed to get quite a bit of canned and dried goods. Duncan had found a decent amount of baby food for Jake, and a goodly supply of diapers, for which I was very grateful. They had also looted the pharmacy, grabbing whatever they thought would be helpful. I had told them to look for anythin
g that had ‘cin’ or ‘cillin’ in the name, as chances were it was an antibiotic. They had also grabbed a bunch of aspirin and cold medicine. Although, when I thought about it, I hadn’t had a cold in a long time, probably because the population had been reduced to the point where we didn’t have the same contact with germs like we used to. Odd bonus, but there it was. They also had picked up some supplies for John Reef, one of our new people. He was a plumber and had an idea about using a reservoir tank and giving us running water. If it worked, I would personally kiss him.

  With Tommy and Duncan back, Charlie, Sarah and I geared up for our excursion. We were heading to the subdivision which was north west of our current home. This was an older community, but it butted up against a forest preserve and a retirement community, so I wanted it out of the way as a possible threat. We were going to leave the town homes that were immediately to our north, as they could be used for any survivors we may come across this winter. I hoped to find many, but one never knew, and the old saying I needed to be careful of what I wished for kept running through my head. I snared Kristen to watch after Jake while I was away, and it pained me that the little guy cried as I left, but there wasn’t anything I could do. I certainly was not going to send someone out in my stead. This was my job, and I had to do it.

  We took the CR-V and headed out, moving north on 104th avenue until we reached two subdivisions, one to the east and one to the west. We passed a large ‘active living’ community, and I made a mental note to check that building out for supplies and such. I figured there might be some food stores in there, as most of those places had restaurants and such. Worth looking into.

  We rolled into the west subdivision and stopped at the first house. It was one of those two-story cookie cutter homes that builders loved to charge too much for and were put together too quickly. They had interesting names for the things like ‘The Appletree” or ‘The Chesapeake’ or some such nonsense. Right now, its name was Kindling.

  The weather was cooperative, mostly sunny with a few clouds. There wasn’t any snow on the ground yet, but we had a couple freezing rains. I had forgotten how much I had grown dependant on the weatherman, and trying to figure out what the weather was going to do sent me back to my days on the golf course grounds crew when we would gauge how much time we had before the rains would catch us too far from the garage. It was cold, around twenty degrees or so. There wasn’t much wind, but what there was tried very hard to get into every opening in my clothes. Typical Chicago winter.

  We stepped out of the car and checked weapons. I was carrying just my SIG and my trusty crowbar. I was getting low enough on ammo for the carbine that I was seriously considering a run back to my home to pick up the extra ammo I had left behind when Jake and I made a run for it. Sarah had her Ruger .22 and a long steel bar with a right angle bent into it. The end had been pointed but not sharpened, the idea being to crush the skill but not to open it to keep the infection contained until it could be burned. Charlie had his Glock and his tomahawks, as well as his knife.

  I walked up to the front and checked the windows. I didn’t see any movement, but that meant nothing. Charlie circled around back and when he came back reported nothing moving. I signaled to Sarah, who checked the front door and found it locked. That usually meant the people had left, but not always. Punching the glass panel next to the door with the end of my crowbar, I waited a minute to see if the noise had attracted any attention. One of our guys a while ago managed to get killed reaching in to open the door. A zombie grabbed his arm and had torn off huge chunks of meat before we could pull him out. He bled out screaming on the lawn.

  No activity so I reached through and opened the door. Sarah went through first, her pistol sweeping the living room and stairs. Charlie glided past and headed down the hall towards the back, checking the rear family room and bathroom. I went upstairs, SIG at the ready. The upstairs was dark, and for the millionth time I wished I had bought a tactical light for my SIG. Oh well. I improvised with a small Maglite, and checked the bathroom at the top of the stairs. I didn’t hear anything, but that wasn’t a sign all was clear. The room at the back was empty, as was the small room at the front. The master bedroom door was closed, which was never a good sign. I kicked the door and heard a small shuffling sound. Contact. I waved down the stairs at Charlie who came up and crouched beside the door, tomahawk held to trip up anything that might come out of the door.

  I nodded to Charlie and kicked the door in, the cheap hollowform door splintering around the handle. The door flew open and I got a quick look at the bedroom. It was indeed the master suite, and occupied. A single woman lay on the bed, her face grey and taut in the rigor of death. Her eyes were closed, and did not show any signs of violence. Her clothes were neat and tidy and her hands were folded across her chest. By the look of her, she had been dead for a long time. So what had made the noise?

  I motioned to Charlie to check the closet while I covered him. He threw the door open and fell backwards as a dove flew out of its nest and into his face. His momentum carried him to the bed, where he fell onto the woman lying there. Jumping up like he had been stung, Charlie glared at me and said “Clear.”

  I calmly holstered my SIG, propped my crowbar against the wall, and then proceeded to laugh like I had not laughed in a long time. By the time I had finished, I had tears running down my face and my stomach felt like it had been subjected to a thousand sit-ups. Charlie had begun to laugh as well, and when Sarah came up to see what the hell was going on, the two of us were bent over at the waist, laughing our fool heads off. She shook her head at us and went downstairs to wait outside.

  We went back downstairs and met up with Sarah, who had gone through the downstairs looking for anything useful. She had some foodstuffs, but nothing else. I left the door open and we went to the next house.

  We proceeded like this down the street, picking up supplies here and there, a couple of rifles and shotguns, and batteries and tools. We did find zombies, but the cold weather had slowed them down so much it was almost ridiculously easy to kill them. They could barely move, and it was no trouble to smash their skulls and end their existence. After a few of these, Charlie and I started to get creative. I speared one using my crowbar like a javelin, and Charlie spent five minutes practicing throwing his tomahawks at a teenager who was stiff in a corner. With several of them, we practiced with our knives, perfecting the best way to kill them with a knife. Charlie liked the temple entry, while I was a proponent of the top of the head thrust. We argued the point until Sarah told the two of us to shut up.

  We reached the last house on the street, and went through our routine of checking the windows. I noticed a lot of furniture had been moved around, and the kitchen looked like there had been a fight of some sort. I could see a blood trail leading out of the kitchen. Something had happened here, and recently. I signaled to Sarah and she tried the door. Thankfully it was unlocked, and the three of us slid silently into the house. Immediately it was obvious there was trouble here, and we spread out to check the downstairs.

  Finding nothing, we met back at the stairs. Sarah and Charlie shook their heads at me and I returned the favor. It was in that moment I heard a long scratching sound, and I glanced upstairs. Charlie heard the same thing and put away his tomahawks, drawing his Glock and holding it ready. Sarah placed her bar against the doorframe and pulled her gun as well. I looked down at the blood trail that led out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Whatever was making the scratching noise was upstairs.

  I drew my SIG and slowly went upstairs, Charlie watching my back and aiming at the top of the stairs. My flashlight illuminated the darkened hallway and as I stepped higher I could see two forms in the hallway. One was the body of a man who was clearly dead and the source of the blood trail. He had been torn up pretty badly, and I could see blood splatter on the walls and red handprints where a struggle had taken place. The man had fought to get to the door at the end of the hallway, and died trying to protect what was in it. The zombie on t
op of him, his wife, I guessed, was slowly scratching at the door with both hands, her fingers worn to the bone. Her clothing was covered in blood and gore, and when I hit her with the light, she slowly turned her dead head towards me. I could see stringy bits of meat hanging from her bloody mouth, and dried blood covered her face. She had so thoroughly torn apart her husband that he had no chance to come back as a zombie. She slowly rose to her feet and took slow, painful steps towards me. Her thin arms raised and her lips curled back as she moved closer towards the light that illuminated her.

  I didn’t waste time, I simply shot her in the head and dropped her next to her husband, the shot sounding unnaturally loud in the small hallway. I moved towards the door and stepped around the mess in the hall. I leaned against the door and listened carefully. I didn’t hear anything, so I tried the door and found it open. I pushed it in and found myself in a nursery. Oh, shit. I thought. Not again. I looked around and saw that the nursery was for a little girl, based on the pink animals and yellow duck stenciling on the walls. I approached the crib, expecting the worst. There was a small form curled up in the corner of the crib, and I couldn’t tell if she was dead, zombified, or other.

  My heart was full of dread as I reached in and carefully turned her over. Her face was angelic as her head turned towards me. Her eyes were closed and she was dressed in one of those fleece sleeper blankets, and I guessed she was approximately three or four months old. I sighed and brought up my SIG, wondering again why God punished the little ones. I lined up her small head and stopped. For some reason, I couldn’t pull the trigger. Charlie came up to the door and saw me pointing my gun at the crib.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, holstering his Glock.

  “Something doesn’t seem right.” I said, lowering my weapon.