by Zuko, Joseph
“I’m fine,” Karen whispered. She could see more of the woman now. Her lungs were still taking in air but the shotgun’s pellets had devastated her torso.
Leon moved with haste from the garage and stared down the barrel of the shotgun, keeping the woman dead in his sights. Her body laid flat along the floor and a half gallon of blood had already collected under her. A revolver sat inches from her outstretched hand. The shotgun blasts had shredded her left arm and carved a hole into her chest.
Karen’s hand moved to cover her mouth as shock and dismay covered her face. She recognized the woman from the photos. This was her house.
The woman’s pretty blue eyes flicked up at the two of them and then she coughed out, “Mike…went to go get the kids…from school…he…he never came back.” Blood seeped from her mouth. There was no saving her. Which meant she was about to turn.
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry. You were shooting and…oh God,” Leon ran his hand through his hair and his voice shook like a leaf.
Karen knelt down next to the woman. Her trembling hand reached out to comfort the woman, but she didn’t know how.
“If Mike comes back…with Tyler and Maegan…tell them I love them…” The woman’s breathing became erratic. The pool of blood on the floor had doubled in size.
“I will. I promise. We are so sorry. We didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.” Karen’s words felt cheap and useless. The woman’s breaths came to a stop. It would not be long until she became infected.
“Is she dead!? I killed her! I fucking killed her!” Leon was breaking down. This was more than he could take, but someone had to finish the job. Karen lifted the revolver from the ground and handed it to Leon. “No! I can’t! I can’t do it!”
“This is the world we live in! This is how it is now!” Karen was filled with anger, rage and sorrow. Her words came out like poisonous venom. She felt equally responsible for what happened. She may not have pulled the trigger but it was her idea to find a car and break into this house. “Leon, you have to do this!”
The woman convulsed on the floor. They only had seconds.
“I can’t do it! Please!” He begged. She didn’t want to be the one to do it either.
The woman’s lips drew tight. Her eyes opened and they were black. She began to push herself up off of the floor.
“Leon, do it! You have to!” she scolded him like a child.
“No!” he sounded like a toddler.
The infected woman’s arm reached out for Karen’s leg. There was no more time to argue. She had to make a difficult choice and it looked like Leon was not up to the task.
She grabbed the gun, aimed, and squeezed the trigger.
The infected woman’s brains splattered all over the perfectly clean hardwood floor. The revolver smoked in Karen’s hand. Her arm dropped to her side and she turned away from Leon.
A few minutes passed and not a word was spoken.
“Thank you.” Leon spoke so quietly Karen could barely hear him. Robin pulled the same act every time she got in trouble and had to apologize to her sister for hitting or pulling her hair.
“Yeah.” Karen stepped out of the kitchen and headed for the steps that lead to the second floor. “Get the booze and meet me in the car.” She said it with no emotion. No inflection. Like a robot rattling off commands.
“Where are you going?”
“Her bedroom.”
“Why?”
“There is probably a box of ammo on the nightstand or in the closet.”
“How do you know that?”
She stomped up the steps, “That’s where I would keep it.”
Leon lifted the bag and the bottles clanked together. He moped out of the kitchen and back to the car.
Karen pushed open the door to what she guessed was the bedroom and there on the nightstand was a box of shells. The woman’s walk-in closet door was open and the light was on. Much like the kitchen, it was spotless and everything was color coded. Karen took a few steps closer to the closet to investigate more. It was beautiful. Exactly the closet Karen had dreamed of her whole adult life. All of the articles of clothing were from Nordstrom or some even nicer store that Karen had never heard of. She took another step into the small room and a full length mirror revealed the nasty pile of a mess that was Karen. Her outfit had been doused with so much blood and gore today that it could never be clean enough to wear again. The dead woman downstairs was about the same size as Karen.
Nothing at Mama’s is going to fit me. She thought.
I need the clothes and that poor lady is never going to wear them again.
A backpack sat in the far corner of the closet. Karen moved to it and unzipped the zipper. She scanned the room and found jeans, tank tops, another sports bra, socks and a light weight black leather jacket. To save space she wore the jacket. The backpack was only half full.
What about the girls and Leon?
Leon’s clothes were pretty gnarly after what he did to that infected kid.
Karen left the lady’s closet and stepped into the husband’s. She flipped on the light and found it as well organized as the wife’s. She took a pair of jeans and a long sleeved flannel shirt from American Eagle.
Before leaving the master bedroom she made sure to pick up the box of ammo. It was a case of fifty rounds minus the six that had been taken to fill the gun. An expensive looking frame held a photo taken by a professional photographer. It was the family sitting on a massive boulder on the Oregon coast. The vast Pacific Ocean stretched out behind them on a perfect summer’s day. The family wore matching tan pants, white t-shirts and had their bare feet dug into the sand. Karen stared at the photo and before she left the room she took the picture with her.
Karen stepped across the hall to a bedroom. Its door was painted bright pink. Inside was a pink bunk bed set, pink dressers and pink walls. It reminded her of a book she would read to Valerie at bedtime. It was about a young girl named Pinkalicious who had to have everything pink. One of the stories was about her eating so many pink cupcakes that she turned bright pink herself. Valerie loved that book and requested it two or three times a week. The book drove Karen nuts and one day when Valerie wasn’t looking Karen donated it to a children’s shelter. The owner of this room was very Pinkalicious. Karen tried her best not to think about the fact that she was about to take clothing from a child that was most likely dead, but again her girls needed them more than a dead girl. She filled the rest of the backpack with hyper colored pants, shirts and underwear. They would be too big for Robin, but it was better than nothing.
Karen stepped down off of the last stair and headed for the garage where Leon sat, waiting for her. She joined him in the front seat of the Subaru.
Leon pointed to the backpack, “What’s all that?” he tried his best to get the conversation rolling and back on track.
“Clothes for us to change into.” Karen held the framed photo in her good hand.
“And that?” Leon asked softly.
“We don’t have time to bury her body properly. I’m going to bury this instead.” Karen looked forward out the windshield. She knew it sounded crazy, but she did not care. She was going to mourn this lady’s death one way or another.
Shit! I forgot to find out her name.
Karen popped open the glovebox and leafed through the insurance papers.
Lizzie! Okay, we will have a drink for Lizzie tonight.
“Let’s get home.” Leon tapped a garage door clicker that hung from the sun visor and the door shimmied up the tracks. He put the car into drive and pulled out the moment the door was all the way open.
The ride back took less than a minute. The streets of the neighborhood were still clear of the infected. Karen had the opener ready and Leon squeezed the Subaru into the overstuffed garage. They waited for the large door to come to a full stop. The lip of the door banged loudly against the concrete surface behind them. Karen stayed in the passenger’s seat with her arms wrapped around the backpack and photo. Leon put the c
ar into park and killed the engine. They sat in silence for a little while.
“When we do another run like that-”
Karen’s words were cut off by Leon’s, “We will do better.”
“We have to. We cannot afford to have innocent blood on our hands. What happened to Lizzie is all our fault. We have to live with that for the rest of our lives. Not one more drop.”
“Not another drop of innocent blood. I promise.” Leon extended his hand for them to shake on it. Karen released the photo and gripped his palm tightly as they sealed the deal. “Did I tell you that I was a bartender for five years?”
“No,” she said as she let go of his hand and pulled at the car doors latch.
“I make one hell of a drink.”
“Good.” Karen climbed out of the car.
Karen headed straight for the living room and Leon took the bottles into the kitchen. He started mixing Karen a cocktail right away. The girls noticed that their Mama was back.
“Mama!” Valerie always sounded so excited.
“Mama!” Robin copied. Karen had only been gone for fifteen minutes, but for the girls it was long enough to celebrate. Karen set the backpack in the middle of the room and she knelt down onto the carpet to give both girls a hug. Troy sat up on the edge of the couch.
“How are you feeling?” she asked her brother.
“Hungry, but I don’t want to eat again.” Troy’s words sounded steadier than before. Karen hoped he would be back to normal by morning.
“I got you girls something.”
“What is it?” Valerie asked.
“A new shirt.” Karen opened the pack.
“Oooh. Thank you. This one’s all dirty.” Valerie began to pull off her own shirt and a second later Robin followed her. Valerie’s shirt had been soaked by Troy’s sweaty back on the trip to Mama’s today. Karen found a nice pink shirt with a Disney character on the front at the top of the bag. She took it and pulled it down over Valerie’s head.
“Where did you get it? The store?” Valerie asked. There was no way Karen could tell her daughter the truth.
“Yep, we got it at the store.” Karen pulled out a purple shirt and squeezed Robin’s head through the neck hole. It was baggy on her little two-year-old body, but perfect to sleep in for the night.
“Too big,” Robin tugged at the end of the shirt to show her silly Mama that she had made a mistake.
“It’s all they had and it’ll be fine.” Karen finished helping the little one get her arms into their proper holes.
Karen stood back up and checked Troy’s ice pack. He needed a fresh one.
“When you were gone I looked around for Mama, but I couldn’t find her. Did she go with you?” Troy winced as Karen removed his ice pack. Karen needed to dance around this question for a little more until the concussion had worn off completely.
Leon scooted around the corner into the living room with an iced drink in both hands, “She’s still at the store shopping. We’ll pick her up later.” He handed Karen her drink. It was not a great lie, but it seemed to work on Troy for now. He leaned back onto the couch and rested his head on a pillow.
Leon pointed again at the photo from Lizzie’s, “Let’s do this in the dining room.” He pivoted and headed back the way he came.
“I’ll be right back girls,” Karen gave both of them a kiss on the top of their heads and then she followed Leon with the framed photo. She had no idea what she was going to say or do with the photo. It had been a long time since Karen had even been to a funeral.
When she arrived at the dinner table Leon already had a candle set up. He had just finished lighting it and stepped away from the table to make room for her to place the photo next to the flame. Karen carefully set the frame on the table and then took a spot next to Leon. They stood shoulder to shoulder, heads down and drinks held close to their chests.
Tears formed at the corner of his eyes. He shuffled his feet and cleared his throat, “I’m sorry.” He paused for a moment and gathered his thoughts, “We did not enter that house with violent intent. We merely were searching for a vehicle to aid in our escape. Unfortunately for you, Lizzie, the worst did happen.” Tears flowed off of his cheeks and onto his blood stained shirt. “We won’t make excuses. We cannot rationalize today’s events. We can only offer our deepest apologies, our most sincere regrets and the promise that we will carry your memory in our hearts forever.” Leon used the back of his hand to clean off the tear tracks on his face.
Karen didn’t realize that she had broken her deal with the tear duct union until a drop rolled off her chin and landed on her chest.
“To you Lizzie,” Leon said as he raised his glass into the air.
Karen raised her glass as well and choked out, “To you.”
They drank. The cool liquid burned down her throat in the best way possible. Leon had found a lime in the cupboard and poured them two vodkas on ice. The Absolut was refreshing and hit the spot. It was a good start for the night.
“Thank you, Leon. How did you-?”
He cut her off again, “My father worked at a funeral home when I was a kid. I grew up going to them every Sunday. I think I’ve been to about five hundred different funerals over the years.”
Karen sipped at her glass, “It’s a good drink. I wish I had some cash to tip the bartender.”
“You are welcome.” Leon wiped his eyes clear one last time. Karen stepped away from the table and over to the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. She wanted to say something about her Mama. She peeked through the blinds and the barricade and there was Penny. Laid out on the ground next to the dead salesman. Just seeing Penny’s body again was too much for Karen. She wasn’t ready to give any kind of eulogy. She would probably get out one sentence, fall apart and turn into a heap of tears on the floor.
Tomorrow. I’ll say something tomorrow. When Troy’s feeling better and can help me get the words right to acknowledge this wonderful woman properly.
Karen emptied her glass. The buzzed feeling she needed to get through tonight was starting to hit her. Two or three drinks more and she would be right where she needed to be. Leon was there ready to take her empty glass and get her a fresh pour.
Leon’s fingertips grazed Karen’s hand as he took the glass. He swore he could feel the charge of energy zap out of her hand and into his. He turned away from her and headed back to his home bar.
“Make it a double,” Karen placed her order.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Chapter 12
Jim woke to the sting of a needle poking into the skin of his forearm. He looked up at the woman with the needle, Tina smiled as her thumb pushed the plunger and forced the antibiotics into his body.
“Devon?” Jim’s voice was rough and he coughed a little at the end of his question.
“He’s stable. Thanks to you. We don’t have a heart monitor so I check his vitals manually every couple of minutes.”
Jim could smell real food cooking in the kitchen. It smelled spicy, mouth-watering, and he couldn’t wait to eat it. “How long was I out?” He rubbed his face. His fingertips skirted around the wounds and massaged his temples.
“Thirty minutes. It’s almost eight o’clock.”
Jim looked outside and night had fallen. The dark purple sky held only a sliver of light. The sun was minutes away from setting on this day.
It was almost over, or was it?
What horrors would total darkness bring?
Frank and Sara stood on the back porch smoking cigarettes and drinking Cliff’s beer. They looked refreshed and cleansed. All of the dirt and blood that had covered their bodies had been washed away. Sara took a drag from her burning stick and coughed out the smoke. She was no pro, that was for sure, but she kept at it.
Cliff entered the living room with a bath towel in his hands, “Hey, buddy can you do us a favor?”
“What’s that?” Jim stretched out his sore muscles.
“Go take a shower. The smell is killing us.” Cliff
handed the towel over to Jim.
“What about the transfusion?” Jim accepted the towel and looked to Tina.
“You’ve given him enough. I already unhooked you. So go please and put your clothes in the washer.” Tina tended the steaming pan of sizzling food. “When you get done you can have dinner.” Tina ran a spatula through the shredded seasoned beef.
Jim got to his feet and pulled off his shirt. His back was covered with cuts and bruises from the fall out of the bedroom window at Frank’s brother’s house. On his way to the bathroom he picked up the plush Burt and Ernie dolls on the table. Next to the table was the other backpack that Jim had loaded with his extra underwear, socks and the medical kit from his bathroom downstairs. The dolls still had blood on them and he wanted to get them cleaned up before it was too late.
Jim stepped in front of the washer and dryer that was tucked in a closet adjacent to the front door. He dropped his shirt into the empty washer then he stripped down to his underwear. He was long past the point of caring about being this nude in a stranger’s house. He tossed all of his nasty clothes into the washer, put in some soap and kicked on the machine. When he turned back to head for the bathroom he spotted the new sawblade weapon Cliff had built hanging on the wall behind him. Cliff passed at that moment to go check on his girls when he noticed Jim checking out his handy work.
“I just made that,” Cliff beamed with pride.
Jim pointed to it, “May I?”
“Sure.”
Jim reached up and grabbed the sawblade, “Wow, it’s lighter than I thought it would be.”
“It’s made out of aluminum.”
Jim thumbed the nearly razor sharp tips of the saw, “Damn it’s sharp as hell too and the grip feels great.”
“I was inspired by your spear,” Cliff folded his arms across his chest.
“It’s really nice. It will definitely do the job.” Jim hung the vicious weapon back up on its hooks.