E52

by Lowther, Shawna Stewart

  “What a shame,” I think to myself. “What a wonderful home.”

  Leaving the living room I cross the small entrance-way, pass the stairway leading upstairs and continue to the kitchen.

  “That is strange,” I think to myself, spotting a glass of water and some crackers on the table.

  The area is clean and not like the rest of the table, appearing that both have recently been placed there.

  Panicked that someone is watching me I glance around.

  “Is there someone here?” I ask.

  No one answers.

  I listen contently.

  “What is that sound?” I wonder to myself.

  The sound of scuffling can be heard coming from a closet in front of me.

  “I am not here to hurt anyone,” I convey, slowly walking toward the closet. “See I am lowering my gun.”

  I hold the gun down to my side and continue to take slow steps toward the closet.

  The closet door opens a tad, lighting up the small area. A little girl is cowering beneath the bottom shelf.

  “I won't hurt you,” I state. “You can come out.”

  Her big blues eyes sparkle in the light. She is young, maybe 7 years of age. She looks tired and scared.

  “Come on, it will be okay,” I tell her, holding my hand out for her to grab.

  After making her way out of from under the shelve she stands next to me. She is quivering.

  “Are you the only one here?” I ask.

  She nods her head indicating to me that she is.

  “Where are your parents?” I ask.

  “They are upstairs,” She answers, her voice trembling.

  “But I thought you said you are the only one here?” I ask.

  The little girl lowers her head allowing her long brown hair to shield her face.

  “They are like them,” she states. “They are locked up in the room.”

  My heart plummets into my stomach.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “They are like the other people who came here. They want to eat me.” She answers; now looking at me, I can see tears streaming down her face.

  “How did this happen?” I inquire.

  The little girl takes the glass of water from the table and takes a drink.

  “One night I had forgot to close the door when I let our dog out.” She explains. “A noise woke me up and when I looked downstairs I saw the dead people walking around. I tried to warn my mom and dad but they would not wake up. I did the only thing I knew to do and slipped out my bedroom window. They attacked my mom and dad while they were asleep.”

  The thought that this innocent child had to witness such horror breaks my heart. Tears fill the corner of my eyes.

  “I heard them screaming, but I couldn’t do anything. I was to scared.” She sobs.

  Pulling a chair out for her, I motion for her to take a seat and relax. I place my hand on hers and lightly squeeze it.

  “After the people left, I saw my mom and dad walking around my room. I thought they were okay, so I came back in.” She cries. “But they weren’t. Their bodies had been mutilated and they looked dead, but they were alive. They tried to attack me.”

  “Here.” I state, handing the little girl a napkin to wipe her eyes.

  “I ran into their room and climbed out their window.” She continues. They followed me, so I snuck back upstairs and closed their door. They have been up there every since. Sometimes you can hear them scream.”

  “How long have they been like this?” I inquire.

  “I think it has been about five days now.” She answers. “I hide in my room most of the time and only come down when I need something to drink or eat.”

  “I am sorry,” I say, lightly rubbing my hand through her hair.

  “Can you go check on them?” She asks, suddenly. “I am afraid because I have not heard them today.”

  Knowing that they are one of the Creetions and that I will have to shoot them bothers me. I do want this child to hear me shoot her parents.

  “I tell you what,” I agree. “My son is out in the truck, if you go check on him, I will go check on your parents.”

  The little girl agrees.

  With her hand in mine we walk to the front door. I open it and glance around. The area appears to be free of any walking dead.

  “His name is Tommy,“ I state. “What is yours?”

  “Claire,” She smiles.

  “Well nice to meet you Claire,” I smile.

  With a light touch I shake her hand.

  “I will be right back out to get you,” I state.

  I turn and walk to the front door.

  “Wait!” She screams out.

  “What is your name?” She asks.

  “Myrna” I answer.

  She smiles at me.

  “Please help them,” She states.

  After smiling, I turn and walk through the front door. I close the floor just as my knees buckle. I crouch down and cry. The only way I have to help them is to kill them, and I am certain this not what the little girl has in mind.

  Allowing myself to cry for a few moments, I then gather my thoughts, wipe my eyes and hold my gun tightly in my hands. I cock it and walk upstairs.

  There are only two doors upstairs. I walk up to the one closest to me and place my ear against the door. There is not a sound to be heard. I place my hand on the doorknob and turn it. I want to be the one with the element of surprise so, I push the door open with such force that the door slams into the wall behind it, making a loud banging sound.

  The room is decorated all in pink with animal print accents. It is obviously Claire’s room. I walk in and look around. Her bed is nicely made; stuffed animals neatly lined up on the edge of bed. She has a little white table with four chairs to where three beautiful dolls sit with tiny china cups and saucers in front of them.

  “A tea party,” I say softly.

  For a brief moment I sit down at the table and pretend to join the party. Remembering back to a time when I was a child and I would love to play games with my dolls.

  “How do you do?” I say to the blonde doll dressed in all white.

  I become angered. Angered at the thought that because of a group of people who decided to make an army of the dead has now caused children like this to lose their families…lose their childhood.

  “I hope every one of those people died,” I think to myself.

  Livid, I stand up and in one swift movement I knock everything to the ground.

  “Damn you people.. Damn you to hell!” I scream out.

  I walk out and close the door behind me, take a deep breath and walk over to the other door. I lean against the wooden door and listen. Moaning can be heard. I listen closely until I can pinpoint that they are at the back of the room. I open the door.

  Every instinct in my body yells RUN, but I know I must do what I came up here for. I must kill these two people…these two monsters.

  As soon as my scent enters the room the one of the Parents turns and sprints toward me. He is badly mangled and is missing an arm. The only indication that the monster in front of me is a man, is the clothing that remains on his body. His movements are jolting and like the others, he has only one thing on mind and that is to devour my flesh as fast as he can.

  I aim and shoot. The bullet strikes his head, the right half of his forehead is blown away. He falls to the ground.

  Moaning continues to echo throughout the room, but I do not see anyone else. Just in case I had not killed the only person I see in the room, I walk over and shoot one more time. His head exlodes. He is dead but I can still hear someone else.

  Frantic, I look around.

  “Where is the moaning coming from?” I question in my mind.

  Cautiously I walk over to the other side of the bed and glance around.

  “Are you kidding me?” I say aloud.

  Lying on the floor is what appears to be the mother. The lower half of her body is missing, leaving only her spine
, torso and head; her legs are nowhere to be seen.

  “They should have just finished you off,” I snicker.

  She growls at me, showing her rotten teeth. The stench coming from her mouth smells like a dead rotten carcass that has been sitting in the sun for days.

  “Well you will be easy,” I state, pointing my gun toward her.

  Just as I aim toward her head and pull the trigger, my leg is captured by something under the bed. I trip and fall. The bullet rings the the air, never hitting its target. I look down at my leg; someone has my leg in their grasp. There is someone else in here and at this moment I am their captive. I cannot take the chance of being bitten or scratched so I rest the barrel on the tiny wrist and pull the trigger. The bullet rips through the bone detaching the rest of the arm. A small child leaps from under the bed, the power that the child possesses knocks me back. Losing my balance for but a second, I grab the small child and throw him forward. His body slams on the dresser in front of me, but he is not fazed. He lunges forward like a crazed animal, his mouth overcome by foam, his eyes black as coal. The idea of killing a child rips through my emotions, but I know it must be done. Before he reaches me I unload two rounds in his head. He instantly stops and falls, his body rests just beyond where I shot his father..

  Afraid to take any chances, I quickly turn my attention back to the mother. She has managed to get closer to me with the use of her arms. I take aim, and shoot. The bullet strikes her chest, she stops for only a second. I shoot again, this time I do not miss. She falls back.

  Believing in “Double tapping” the dead I walk back over and shoot her one more time in the head. She never moves again.

  Taking the three bodies I lay them together then stand over them and stare. It is hard to tell what they looked like before. Although they are not as decayed as most I have seen, they still possess the same death look as the others. You can tell by the deep gashes in the fathers face and body he fought the “dead” off for a while, causing me to become curious as to why the gang of people did not fully devour the man, or the child.

  “Could this attack be from one of the first born and they were increasing their army by keeping the men intact? I ask myself. “And if so, why did they not follow the pack elsewhere?”

  I continue to study their bodies like artwork. I can not come to a conclusion.

  “Why didn’t she tell me about the little boy?,” I wonder to myself. “Does she know about him or was he one of the others that got left behind?”

  I place their hands together and lay the small boy between them. I look over at the bed, the sheets are covered in blood from the attack they experienced days before. I take the linen from the bed and lay it over them.

  “I need something to give the little girl to take with her.” I think to myself, knowing that I can not leave her here alone.

  I glance around the room for a picture or something that she can have that remind her of her family before this horrible ordeal took place.

  “That will do,” I say aloud.

  Sitting on a tall wooden dresser by the window is a large picture of Claire, her mom, her father and a young boy. My heart sinks. The monster beneath the bed was her brother.

  “I wonder why she did not tell me about him,” I wonder to myself.

  The two people in the picture are that of maybe thirty. The woman has hair of gold and her eyes, green. She is stunning. The man appears to be the same age. His hair dark brown and his eyes the same color as Claire’s, blue like the sky.

  “What a shame,” I think in my head. “Such a lovely family vanished by the army’s wrong doing.

  I take the picture, close the door and walk back into the first room I had come to. I need to get some clothes for the little girl; I do not want her coming back in the house.

  After gathering a bag of clothes I take the doll I had been admiring earlier and then walk back downstairs and to the kitchen.

  I had noticed before the decor of the kitchen. Decorated in country motive I admire the wide variety of ceramic farm animals that are displayed on the counter tops and shelves and the red and white checkered curtains that cover the kitchen windows.

  A specific decoration captures my attention. It is a large black and white cow that looks to be a cookie jar.

  “How cute,” I think to myself. “My mom use to have one of these.”

  Admiring the cookie jar I run my hand gently over the top, remembering my Mother.

  “Lest see if there is anything in here,” I say aloud.

  To my delight the cookie jar is full of chocolate chip cookies. I take one from the jar and bite into it. They are not fresh but they are eatable, so I place them in a small plastic bag and continue my search for food.

  I need to take as much food as I can so I search each and every cabinet. I fill as many bags as I can and decide to leave some in case another person in need comes by.

  I glance over at the large white freezer that sits at the far end of the kitchen. I had heard of people that had managed to find enough gas to keep a generator going so that they could keep fresh meat. There is a slim chance that this family was one of them but I must check.

  Prepared for the rancid smell I might encounter I walk over to the freezer, set my bags on the ground, plug my nose and open the freezer.

  As soon as I get the door open the room is overtaken by the smell of rotten meat, the immediate area is overtaken by flies. Slamming the door down, I duck down into a crouched position and cover my face.

  “That was a bad idea,” I think in my mind.

  Once the area clears of most of the flies I stand up and gather the bags and walk away. The smell has sickened my stomach, so walk over and take a glass out of one of the cabinets, walk to the sink and turn the faucet on. The cool water settles my thirst and my stomach.

  “I don’t think I will ever try that again,” I think to myself taking one last drink. “I had no idea that rotten meat would smell that bad. Now back to business.”

  It has been about an hour since I sent Claire to sit with Tommy in the car. I have not heard anything, so I feel confident that things are okay.

  “I am sure Tommy has her playing with cars by now,” I think to myself. “He could always get Bill to play with him.”

  “Bill…” I think to myself.

  A lump forms in my throat.

  “Oh my god what have I done!” I scream in my head.

  I had been so worried about what Claire not seeing her parents that I had forgot about what Tommy is capable of.

  “Please let her be okay,” I think to myself.

  Dropping the bags of food I have been gathering I run to the front door and swing it open.

  “No!” I scream.

  The windshield and windows around the car are splattered in blood. The red serum keeping me from seeing what is inside. I grit my teeth in anger and fall to my knees.

  “What did you do Tommy?” I scream.

  Burying my face in my hands I scream as loud as I can, letting my anger flow freely.

  “How could I be so careless,” I scream. “I caused the death of a child!”

  Unaware that Tommy is standing behind me I continue to cry. I leap back as I feel someone lay their hand on my shoulder, I lose my balance and fall to the ground.

  “Why Tommy?” I ask, glaring up at him.

  “I am suppose to make others like me,” He states, pointing to the car. “See, now Claire is like me.”

  A pounding sound comes from within the truck, the sound that of a desperate person trying to free themselves. The backseat window begins to crack Claire continues to thrash at the window until it shatters. She awkwardly crawls out.

  Claire is now standing at the car door. Her body badly mangled by the small bites of a three year old child. Flesh dangling from her face, arms and neck. One of her eyes hang by the orbital muscle that holds it close to the upper part of her cheek, the other remaining untouched.

  My mouth opens wide, I can believe what Tommy has done.


  “She is all better now, Mommy,” he states, blood splattering from his mouth on to my clothes.

  Scared that I will be his next victim I scoot toward the front door. I had dropped my gun and need to retrieve it before I become the next victim.

  “Where are you going Mommy?” Tommy asks. “She won't hurt you.”

  He laughs.

  “Do you want to be like me too?” Tommy asks.

  When he was a baby he had bitten me and I had not turned. I often wondered if it was because I still had some of the drug in my system or if because of the drug I have become immune to the infection. When bitten by him, his father and Bill did change and now Claire so I know he does carry the poison and that in fact it is as potent as the others. All I know is that I am not willing to take the chance.

  “No Tommy! I do not want to be like you, nor did Claire!” I scream. “You are alive, you can still talk and think, she can’t do that any longer and I don’t want to be like that, no one does.”

  Tommy tilts his head and looks at me with a expression of confusion.

  “Why?” He asks, reaching down to touch me.

  I flinch. I am scared of my own child.

  “I don’t think it hurts,” He says.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Me biting you,” He states.

  He glares at me with eyes of uncaring. He is getting worse, like Bill had predicted.

  As I grab for my gun, I get a glimpse of Claire, she is sprinting toward me. I leap up and aim for her head; my aim is sturdy; I do not miss. She falls to ground, her blood spews from of the wound and on the ground around her.

  “Why did you do that?” Tommy asks. “She just wanted to play.”

  I glance over at my son. Although I know what needs to be done I do not have the heart to kill him. I still am determined that I can save him, all I need is the medicine.

  “No Tommy,” I state. “She wanted to eat Mommy.”

  He continues to stare at me, confused.