The Good, the Dead, and the Lawless: The Undoing
Page 19
Haven grasped the back of Phillip’s shirt and twisted it in her grip. “Think we can kind of... shuffle... him along? Some of those fresher ones move a little too fast for my liking.” They were closing in on them. Their rot wafted through her nostrils causing her to grimace with disgust.
Brett nodded. “Yeah. Alright, buddy,” he said to Phillip. “We’ve got to move a lot faster.”
They started to drag him between them as they made their way to the Camaro.
A gray hand jutted out of the one of the open windows, its gnarled fingers clawing at the air. Haven nearly jumped out of her skin and pivoted her hips to avoid its clutches. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the zombie was strapped into the car by its seat belt and wouldn’t be going anywhere soon.
They approached the orange car, and Brett leaned Phillip against the side, fumbling for the right key on his lanyard.
“Brett, hurry,” Haven told him in a low voice. She tried to calm her racing heartbeat.
He opened the driver’s side door for her. She shook her head. “I can’t drive stick. Get him into the car. I’ll hold them off,” she said, taking the baseball bat from him.
Haven didn’t risk a glance behind her to see if Brett was ready. She moved towards the zombies approaching the front passenger side of the vehicle. There were only a few near the trio, but an increasing number was steadily closing in.
The first zombie was relatively well-preserved and only had a bite mark on its arm. Haven could see that at one point, the creature had been beautiful in its human form. Long brown hair swayed gently in the breeze as the zombie lifted its hands for her. What were once prettily arched brows were furrowed in anger and hunger; prominent cheekbones were now sallow and sunken. When the zombie was close enough to grab her, it lunged at Haven head first, its decayed, festering face careening towards her at an alarming speed. Haven swung the bat, cracking the skull as the weapon connected with its target. The impact was hard enough to put a dent in its scalp and force one of its eyeballs to protrude, giving it a very misshapen, bug-eyed appearance. The zombie crumpled in a heap, but another took its place within seconds.
She heard the car roar to life and began backing around the hood. A handful of the undead were pressed against the passenger side of the Camaro, smashing their faces against the windows to get a better look at Brett and Phillip inside.
“Haven, get in the back seat! Hurry!” Brett yelled over the engine.
She didn’t need to be told twice. She pushed Phillip further down and jumped in beside him just as the car rocked forcefully sideways from the pressure of the zombies against it. Others were just behind them, practically tripping over each other to get to the Camaro.
“GO!” Haven shouted.
Brett shifted gears and accelerated forward, the tires squealing as they sped off into the night.
Chapter 17:
“So, after we had ridden in this bus with no AC, no bathrooms, no water for three hours, we finally get to the countryside outside of Beijing. I mean, you have to understand that this was July. It was so hot you could have fried an egg on the sidewalk.”
Texaco looked at Houston intently, head cocked, ears perked, permanent smile on its adorable puppy face.
“This guy who speaks no English picks us up at the bus station, which I might add is in the middle of nowhere. It was like something out of a horror movie. He drives us to his farm in this rusty, old jalopy. It’s a huge ranch surrounded by mountains. Horses are everywhere, all colors of ‘em. You should have seen Haven. She loves horses. Every inch of her was brimming over with excitement about getting into the saddle again. I was a little nervous, on the other hand.” He gestured down to his pants. “You know, man parts and all. I don’t know how the Indians of the Old West did it. Anyways, the last time I rode a horse, I looked absolutely ridiculous. I mean, we’re talking bicycle helmet, gym shorts, these bright green sneakers I used to wear, heels up, stirrups too short on a horse that was too small for me. Totally clueless. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her laugh so hard as she did that first time she saw me ride. She documented it all on camera, of course. I’m sure it’s on YouTube somewhere, knowing Haven. If YouTube is even up and running anymore.” He shook his head. “This time, however, she rode ahead of us, hair down, galloping into the wind. She looked so happy and at peace. She still says that was the best birthday present ever.”
Sadness crossed his features. “I miss her so much.”
Reminiscing for a moment more, his face suddenly brightened. “There was this one time... I invited her to go shooting with me at a gun range near her hometown, thinking it would be a cool, new experience for her. I was so smug, thinking I’d be teaching her a thing or two on how to hold a gun, how to load it, you know, the works...” He chuckled ruefully. “I should have known when the owner greeted her by name. She never once said anything to me about shooting before. I went ahead and let her take the first shot, thinking she’d be really cute and miss a whole bunch.” He leaned closer to the dog whose ears perked immediately.
“So get this. She screws up the shot, not even close to hitting the target, all the while smiling at me ever so sweetly as she says ‘oops.’ I went over to her and got behind her, showing her how it was done, how to aim. I was feeling all manly, puffed up like a freaking peacock. She nodded, pretending to really take all of my advice to heart. Then she casually loaded the rifle like she had been doing it her whole life, took careful aim, and hit center mass on the target each time for the next three shots. In a row, a freaking row, like a damn pro. Didn’t know her grandma and grandpa were gun nuts. She did better than I did, even though I still won’t admit that to her.”
Houston finally looked over at his companion. He had spent the last hour intently recounting his globe-trotting adventures with Haven to a dog.
“Lonely much?” he asked himself aloud. He reached over and petted Texaco. “Aww, buddy, thanks for listening. Once I find Haven and her family, I want to head to my parents’ cabin in West Virginia. You would like it there. Lots of squirrels, they say.”
He scratched Texaco between the ears which delighted the dog, causing it to kick its hind leg involuntarily. “I’m starving. Want something to eat?”
He stuck his arm out behind him and began fishing around until he found the plastic sack full of supplies from the gas station.
Taking his eyes off the road for a moment, he sifted through the contents, his fingers brushing against the bag of rawhide treats.
“Here we go.” He pulled the bag to the front seat and used his knee to steer as he tore it open and examined the contents. “Hmmm. These actually smell pretty darned good.”
Texaco broke the silence with an alarming bark.
Houston looked up just in time to see the headlights illuminate three figures. He cursed and grabbed the steering wheel, forcing the vehicle to swerve violently off the road.
The Trans Am skidded along the damp grass. Houston pumped the brakes desperately until the car finally came to a screeching halt.
His breath was uneven and shaky, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. He looked over at Texaco whose body was stiff and alert. The car windows started to fog from the chilly night air and the passengers’ heavy breathing.
Suddenly, a shadow appeared beside his door. Houston reached for his gun and pointed it at the window. Texaco was straining to get across his lap, barking ferociously.
He heard a tap. Then another.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that zombies didn’t tap. They shattered, they infiltrated, and they destroyed.
“Hello? Are you okay?” a male voice asked. “Hello?”
Houston wasn’t about to open the door until he knew it was safe to do so. While the man clearly wasn’t a zombie, he could also be one of the psychopaths taking advantage of the current state of lawlessness.
“Who’s there?” he answered gruffly.
Two smaller shadows joined the large one.
“Honey, it’s alright. Just stay over there for a second. Watch your brother,” the man said softly. “Sir, I’m sorry we scared you. It’s just me and my two kids. We’re not bitten.”
Houston sighed and wiped away the fog from the glass. Sure enough, he saw a man in his forties wielding a wooden baseball bat while standing in front of two small children.
From what he could tell, they didn’t look sickly.
He opened the door, still keeping his gun trained on the man, who protectively blocked his children from Houston’s view. Crickets chirped loudly in the darkness, the air cold and moist.
Texaco jumped out of the driver’s side and continued to bark until one of the children peered around the man, his big blue eyes eyeing the dog hopefully. Texaco ran over to the little boy and began sniffing him, its fluffy tail wagging. The boy squealed with delight.
“I’m really sorry we scared you, sir,” the man repeated.
Houston shook his head. “I could have killed you all. What the heck were you doing walking on the road at night?”
“Well, if you haven’t noticed, the streets are kind of empty these days. I thought it would be better to keep on the road. Can’t see in the woods. I didn’t want one of those creatures jumping out of a bush or something.”
“Understandable,” Houston replied, not taking his gun off the man.
“I’m Steven. These are my kids, Jessica and Blake.”
The children were ecstatically playing with Texaco, giggling with glee as the pup licked their faces.
Steven watched them sadly. “That’s the first time I’ve heard them laugh since their mom left,” he murmured absentmindedly.
Houston slowly lowered his gun. “Houston,” he said, extending his hand. “Where are you guys headed?”
They shook hands before Steven responded. “Woodbridge, Virginia. My wife... she was visiting her sister. She got stuck out there when all of this started. I haven’t heard from her in a couple days, but I know she’s still alive.” Blake ran past him, hiding behind one of his legs. He ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately, but his demeanor was downcast. “I know it,” he repeated. “Our house was overrun yesterday. We had to leave in a hurry and have been walking since last night.”
Houston narrowed his eyes. “Please tell me you’re not thinking to walk to Virginia.” He looked at the children, then shifted his gaze back to Steven. “You won’t make it.”
“We don’t have anywhere else to go. I love my wife; they need their mother.”
Houston leaned against the Trans Am. “You do realize that your rescue party consists of you, two small children, and a baseball bat.”
“We’ll figure out something. We would all want to be together, regardless of what happens. I know she’s still out there.” Steven kept saying it as though he himself needed convincing. He looked past Houston down the road, anxiety in his eyes.
“I’d give you a ride, but I’m headed south, to a small town in Georgia.”
“I understand. You’re lucky you’ve been able to make it this far. I don’t know how long it will take to get to Virginia on foot.”
Houston glanced at the children again.
“A while. Stay off the main roads. Avoid the cities at all costs.”
Steven nodded. “I figured as much. We’ve run into a few of those things here and there. One or two are manageable. I’m just praying we don’t come across a large group.”
Houston surveyed his disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes. “You have any food or water?”
Steven shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground. “Not a thing. We didn’t have time to grab any supplies. I found this bat in someone’s shed while we were escaping through the backyards in our neighborhood. I know the kids are hungry. I’ll be alright, but they can’t last long like this. Plus, with the cold...”
Without needing to hear anything further, Houston turned around and reached into his car, pulling out several bags. “Here, take these. I came across a gas station a while back and picked up a few things.”
At the sound of the rustling bags, Jessica and Blake ran over to them.
Steven looked at Houston with gratitude. “Thank you. That’s really kind of you.”
Houston waved him off. “Don’t mention it.” He took out some treats and gave them to the children.
“Kids, what do you say? Tell the nice man thank you,” Steven reminded them.
“Thank you!” they exclaimed in unison, their little hands tearing into the bags of chips hungrily. Jessica, slightly older than her brother, gobbled down half the contents in record time.
Houston whistled for Texaco and led the dog back to the car.
He walked over to Steven and shook his hand. “I wish you all the best of luck.”
“Thank you,” Steven whispered. “Be safe out there.”
Houston tried his best to push aside any feelings of guilt as he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
As he drove down the road, he watched the family in his rear-view mirror. Steven kneeled beside his children, gathering up the bags. Their figures grew smaller and smaller until finally, Houston crested a hill, and they were no longer visible. An overwhelming guilt crept up inside of him, one that he couldn’t ignore.
Texaco whined plaintively.
He sighed and stopped the car, the brake lights casting a spooky red glow around them.
“Are you thinking the same thing I’m thinking?” he asked the dog.
Texaco cocked its head to one side and rested a paw on Houston’s leg.
“Yeah, me, too,” he muttered.
He sat in silence for a moment, his hands running over the steering wheel.
“Man,” he said softly.
Turning the car around, he headed back down the hill.
The family came into view again.
Houston pulled up beside them and rolled down the window. They seemed surprised to see him.
“You know how to drive stick?”
“Ummmm... yes. Why?” Steven answered with confusion in his eyes.
Houston reached in the back seat and pulled out his backpack. He sat still for a moment staring at the car, a bittersweet expression on his face.
Then he got out, Texaco at his heels, and faced Steven.
“She’s all yours,” Houston replied simply, handing him the keys.
“Wha... Are you serious?” He stood before the young man in shock, unable to reach out for the proffered key ring.
“You’ve got two little kids. It’s just me and Tex here. How many miles is it to Virginia anyways? You don’t have a hope and a prayer if you try to make it on foot. I’ve only got a short trek ahead of me. I’ll be fine.” He took Steven’s hand, opened it, and set the keys firmly in his palm. “Good luck, Steven.”
Before the stunned man could respond, Houston shouldered his pack, whistled for Texaco, touched the jet black hood of the Trans Am for the last time, and began the long journey home to his one true love.
***
Faith had just made it up the stairs to the attic when she realized her grandmother wasn’t behind her.
“Grandma!” she screamed, pausing on the ladder to look behind her.
She heard loud crashes in the living room, a bang from the shotgun. She desperately wanted to hide in the attic.
“Grandma!” she shouted again, hoping to hear a response so that she wouldn’t have to leave the potential of safety so nearby.
Still no answer. The ones she’d seen in the yard were now in the house.
“Lord Jesus, please help me,” she said in one breath, her palms sweaty.
She crept down the stairs and peered around the corner of the attached garage.
Sure enough, eight of the monsters were steadily moving past her hiding spot towards Rosemary.
Faith ducked back behind the door frame and inhaled shaky, sharp breaths. She wished her siblings were there so she
wouldn’t have to fight the terrifying creatures by herself.
But they weren’t, and Faith was the only one who could help.
She searched her surroundings for something to use as a weapon, her eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness. Her fingers hurriedly groped the contents of the room.
They finally brushed across something long and hard. It was her grandmother’s Native American spear, the one with the brightly-colored turkey feathers dangling from the spearhead. She briefly remembered hearing the story behind its procurement. When Rosemary was just a teenager, she’d tried to become a member of a Sioux tribe in her hometown. She had been completely fascinated with Native American folklore and figured that if she wasn’t Sioux by blood, she could certainly buy her way into their tribe. Her parents, of course, had been absolutely aghast at such an idea and instead attempted to placate her by purchasing the spear as a memento.
For now, it was just perfect. Faith grabbed the spear with trembling, unsteady hands and moved into the house.
She cried out in terror when she saw her grandmother.
Cornered against the oven in the kitchen, Rosemary flung the shotgun around with all her might at the figures closing in around her. She made contact with the jaw of one zombie, only inches from her face. It stumbled backwards, its jaw hanging at a strange angle. Upon failing to reach her, its brows furrowed, making it look angry and inhuman. Then it lurched forward joining the others again. When they grabbed the shotgun in an attempt to get to her, she let the weapon go, and instead snatched up her cast iron skillet from the stove, slamming it into the face of the closest zombie. Faith could hear the wet crunch from where she stood. But Rosemary was losing strength fast.
Several new zombies were coming through the broken windows. Their white, hungry eyes were focused on Faith.
She stood frozen in fear, her feet cemented to the floor. Seconds seemed like hours. Her heart was pounding so fast she thought it would explode out of her body. Faith wanted to run away, leave this house, and hide somewhere deep in the woods.
She wanted to save herself.
The numbers of monsters snaking into their home was increasing by the second. Faith realized that right now, her grandmother was all she had. Everyone else close to her was gone, and while she hoped more than anything that they were alive and well, in this very moment, it was just the two of them, and she didn’t want to face these things alone.