Dead Fall

by Joseph Xand

  I reminded him that he wore one for Aunt Diane's wedding when he was three, but he doesn't remember, so he says that doesn't count. Plus she got divorced so, you know. That one ended sadly, too.

  So we set out to piece him together a suit. I'm no expert, but luckily we found a catalog behind the counter with pictures of people in suits, so we used that as a guide.

  We picked a suit, dark blue, which I liked. It had pinstripes and a gold inseam, but he didn't like it. He chose a black suit with deep-gray pinstripes, but he tossed the matching pants and replaced them with slacks of a lighter gray. We found a vest the same color as the slacks, but which had a sort of floral design, and he liked that, too.

  He picked out a plain white shirt, which he didn't like at first because he said the sleeves "looked stupid." I explained to him they were French cuffs, and after I found a pair of gold cufflinks and showed him how they worked, he really liked them. (Can't believe they make French-cuffed shirts for kids! Well…they don't make them anymore, I guess.)

  There are lots of fancy belts to choose from, but he found he preferred just a plain black belt with an ordinary silver belt buckle. Brandon's like that mostly. He also prefers vanilla ice cream, chocolate chip cookies, and plain Hershey bars. Not that we've seen any of that in a long while.

  So it was the same with the dress shoes. I suggested different styles and colors, and he was good enough to try them on, but in the end, he settled on a pair of non-glossy, run-of-the-mill black shoes.

  With the tie, we ran into some problems. Neither of us had any idea whatsoever how to tie a tie, and the store didn't have the clip-on variety. So after Brandon surprised me by picking a bright-colored tie with an intricate cube pattern, we spent an hour trying to figure out how to tie it. Finally, although it still wasn't right, we managed a knot that looked in the ballpark of what a tie should look like.

  We topped it off with a handkerchief sticking out of the front pocket of his jacket. It was teal, which matched parts of his tie. Handkerchiefs also have special ways of being folded before being stuffed into breast pockets, and we didn't know how to do that either, but the store DID sell handkerchiefs that came pre-folded.

  After everything was decided, we dressed him up and stood him in front of a mirror. I have to say, even with the flamboyant, cockeyed tie that didn't fit with the somewhat somber black and gray motif, he looked really handsome. He looked so much like dad just then (who wore suits all the time), and it was all I could do not to cry.

  After he was dressed, I brought our new battery-powered radio up front with us and played a Beatles' CD. Abbey Road, which was one of Mom's favorites. Then I talked him into letting me show him a few dance moves.

  We were having a lot of fun. I'd spin him around, then he'd spin me. He took to the dancing quicker than I expected. He's quite a natural at it. We laughed and cut up for the first time in a long time.

  Then he stopped dancing. He looked down at himself, the clothes he was wearing (the clothes he is still wearing while he sleeps next to me) and when he looked up again he was crying. He walked back to the mirror and stared at his reflection and cried.

  Finally, he said, "I shouldn't have left mom and dad like that. I should have put them to rest. We should have buried them."

  I didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. What's done is done and Lebanon, Pennsylvania is a good distance from Philly. I'm not happy about how we left mom and dad, but I don't blame Brandon. We've killed more than a few of those things since we left home, but before we left the house, we didn't know how to kill them. And who knows if we could have killed mom and dad even if we had known how.

  But none of that changes the obvious. Brandon was dressing for a funeral after all.

  The moment was broken when the pounding started. I should have turned off the radio when we stopped dancing, but I didn't think the music was very loud. Although the coast had been clear when we arrived days ago, zombies must have been passing by the parking lot. They were drawn to the noise and started beating on the front windows. The windows and doors have roll-up metal grating in front of them, so there's no concern of them getting in. But we didn't want to draw attention to the store in any way. It may be obvious to someone passing by on the road outside that something of value may be in the store if zombies are gathered outside.

  Plus we know from experience that once the pounding starts, it NEVER stops.

  We've talked about breaking into some of the other stores in the strip mall. There is a small hobby store and a Radio Shack and a Hallmark. We thought we could find some entertainment among those. Now we may have to find a new residence to get away from the constant beating. The rattling metal seems really loud.

  But that's not a priority. Tomorrow we hit some more houses. We want to hit the entire first row of houses before we do anything else.

  I'll bet Brandon will wear the suit. He said before he went to bed that he plans to wear it for awhile.

  All for now.

  * * * * *

  Dear Diary,

  (The next day)

  A lot has changed in the last 24 hours. One day we are making long-term plans for staying in the store, and the next we are having to pack as much as we can carry and leave.

  We got up this morning and headed down to the houses below as planned, pushing our shopping cart ahead of us. We were moving along pretty quickly, hitting four houses in about three hours and filling eight huge duffel bags with food and other stuff.

  We were at the next to the last house at the end of the row of houses when we heard noises outside—vehicles on the street in front of the houses, car doors shutting, people talking and laughing, even gun shots.

  We carefully looked out a front bedroom window of the house to see two big trucks parked across the street out front and about six men laughing and shouting at the few zombies walking along the street.

  I'm not sure, but they might be the same group that lives at the nearby gated community. I thought I recognized one of them as a lookout on the wall.

  So they shot the zombies, then two of them went into the first house across the street and two more went into the house next door to it and directly across from us. Each pair carried with them two of the really big, army-style green duffel bags, rifles, and a battering ram like S.W.A.T. team people use on TV to break down doors. The last two stood guard next to the trucks, watching for the occasional zombie to come walking towards them, and then one of them would raise his rifle and put it down.

  After about 10 to 15 minutes, the first pair came out of the first house, dropped their full duffel bags into the back of a truck, grabbed two more empty ones from the back seat, and then moved to the third house in line. The pair from the second house was just coming out when the first pair was breaking down the door to the third house.

  The second pair dropped off their duffel bags, and one of them was telling one of the guards (Dodger, I believe he called him) that he'd found a big porn stash when gunshots popped off from inside the third house.

  All four men outside ran into the third house, guns ready.

  About a minute later, two of them came out shoving a guy in front of them. A LIVE guy! He looked like he'd been shot in the shoulder. They pushed him roughly to the ground. They were quickly followed by the other four guys, and two of them were dragging out a screaming woman.

  Two of them held the woman up while the other four took turns kicking the guy on the ground. All of them were laughing.

  The woman screamed at them, begging them to stop. I think she called the guy on the ground Lyle. Then they started feeling on the woman's chest through her shirt and making Lyle watch while they did it. He kept trying to get up, saying, "Don't you touch her!" but someone would kick him back down or knock him down with a rifle butt. And they'd all laugh every time.

  One of the group said something like, "We gotta teach you not to bring a knife to a gun fight," and they all laughed some more.

  Finally one of the guys said, "Let's get her back. We
can hit these houses later. But we're gonna party tonight." The woman screamed louder and kept begging that they leave them alone and take anything they wanted from the house, but one of the guys told her they had everything they wanted right here. He ran his hand over her crotch.

  Lyle tried to stand up one more time, but one of the guys shot him twice in the chest. The lady screamed and screamed.

  They dragged her fighting and tossed her into the back seat of one of the trucks, two of the men climbing in after her. Then they all loaded up, turned the trucks around (one of them turned around in the driveway of the house we were in) and drove away.

  Brandon and I sat at the window on the bedroom floor for a long time, almost like we were too scared to move. Neither one of us spoke, but I thought I heard Brandon sniffle a couple of times as if he might be crying. Neither one of us had ever seen a live person killed before.

  I can't imagine what they are doing to that poor woman right now.

  About twenty minutes after the trucks left, Lyle started moving again. Eventually, he stood up, facing our general direction. His shirt was covered in blood. He wasn't moving at all, just standing there, and for a moment I thought he might still be alive and not one of those things. Just too shocked to move.

  But then a squirrel came down from a tree in the front yard and scurried across the yard in front of Lyle, headed for the tree in the next yard over. Lyle saw him and gave chase. The squirrel barely made it to the next tree, Lyle moved so fast.

  When we finally left, Lyle was standing beneath the tree, looking up into it and clawing at the bark as if he were trying to climb.

  When we got back to the store, we knew we had some decisions to make again. We know it's too dangerous to go back down to the houses. Those guys could come back at any time. We also don't know how safe the store is either. We could stay here until those guys finish ransacking the houses, but for all we know the strip mall is also on their list of places to hit.

  Especially since the zombies are pounding on the front of the store now. Like I wrote before, it's a dead giveaway that there could be some activity inside, so they might decide to check it out.

  After a lot of discussion, and more than a little arguing, we've decided to load up one duffel bag with supplies and find a place nearby to hold up, at least for a little while. But we'll stay close and go back to the store once the coast is clear.

  In the meantime, we'll hide the rest of our supplies behind clothes and shoes, and hopefully, they'll all be here when we get back.

  Brandon thinks there will still be a lot of stuff left for us once they are finished rummaging through the houses because of how fast they went through each one. I don't know. I think they've done this many times before and probably have a system down that is efficient and thorough.

  We'll see.

  Brandon wants to bring his new suit with him, even though I've tried to convince him it's not a necessity. But he insists. I did draw the line at the dress shoes. They are too bulky and take up too much room in the duffel bag. He said he'd wear them, but they aren't practical for all the walking we have to do and the kind of terrain we have to cover doing it.

  We head out tomorrow morning.

  There are a lot of zombies out front now, drawn in from the pounding of the others. But honestly, they appear to be the least of our worries.

  There are worse things out there than zombies.

  Chapter 6

  O VER THE NEXT SIX days after Karen was attacked in the barn, the prison and the surrounding valley was a flurry of activity. Since Thad first noticed the two men evaluating the prison (and possibly Thad as well) from a distance, the two men returned every other day, but each time with a contingent of people that grew in number with each visit.

  As a group, they continued to monitor the prison from various locations and angles. They were sure to keep their distance and used the forest for cover.

  Thad assumed they were checking out all the possible entry points, as well as evaluating the growing hoards of the dead (which multiplied conspicuously as the reconnaissance continued) and appraising how well the fence around the prison was holding up to the dead's continuous onslaught.

  But Thad also knew they'd be foolish if they weren't regarding the prison from a defensive standpoint; that is, trying to decide if there might be anyone else in the prison who might oppose their moving in. Thad's view of the prison was limited, of course, but he did have the advantage of height. The best the newcomers could do was climb on top of their vehicles, which they had to do to see over the tall grass. Thad could see not only the outer buildings of the prison, but also the inner buildings of the compound.

  Thad's greatest fear was that the new group would decide to find a way to his cliff top in hopes of gaining a higher vantage point of the prison and discover his home. Then they might decide his home was better than the prison as far as a place to wait out the plague. After all, the house was high up, hidden, and much easier to defend.

  But his fear proved to be unfounded. Not once did he notice any of them turning their sights in his direction again. Instead, they focused their attention and planning on the prison itself.

  And, of course, their constant activity down below meant that Thad stayed busy up above. Every day more of the dead were drawn in from the roadways and surrounding countryside. And that meant more of the dead wandering accidentally up the winding drive leading to the top of the cliff above Thad's house.

  The driveway was sandwiched between rock walls. And any wayfaring corpse was inevitably forced up the mountain until the rock wall, growing shorter and shorter the higher up the mountain, wound down completely, giving way to a high grassy plain that ended abruptly at the cliff above Thad's property. Only a sharp right turn, which most of the dead bypassed, would put them on a curving, downward slope that lead to the house.

  Whereas before five corpses falling from above in a day was unusual, now it was becoming typical. Thad stopped allowing Karen to play outside for fear of one of those things falling on her unexpectedly. Not that the house offered complete protection, but at least the original roof, as well as the secondary roof he'd pieced together, broke the deads' fall and gave Thad time to react. But he'd already had to repair the secondary roof once.

  He knew it would continue like this unless the group of newcomers decided to move on to somewhere else. If they actually moved in, it may never end at all.

  And on the seventh day, they did just that.

  * * * * *

  The prison wasn't always in the valley below Dr. Palmer's home; that is, the original Dr. Palmer, Thad's father. When Thaddeus Palmer, Sr. first bought the cliff top outcropping (along with a large portion of the mountain itself), the valley was a dense forest.

  Thad was too young to remember the planning and building of the house. He didn't remember his father ordering expensive geological surveys to study the rock formations of the cliff that rose up next to where he wanted to build his dream home to be sure he wouldn't be constantly bombarded with falling boulders and rock slides. Nor did Thad remember all the money his father had to spend to cut a driveway out of the mountain before even the first building materials could be brought in (the building of the driveway alone took three years). Nor did he recall the actual construction of the house on which his father worked as a junior carpenter, the construction crew being patient of his father, all of whom owed him personal favors.

  Thad did have some recollection of his father building the barn; the very barn Thad would later partially deconstruct.

  Back then, the view from the edge of the cliff in front of the house was immaculate. The tops of the trees below resembled pillowy, rolling hills that changed colors with the seasons. The massive highway that today sat in the distance was then a thin road—little more than a trail—and most of it was concealed among the trees.

  Even the distant mountains seemed different then, like something out of a fairytale or fantasy novel, when viewed through the eyes of a child. Today parts
of the mountainsides and areas of their bases were pockmarked with ugly moments of civilizations—neighborhoods, business centers, industrial regions, and bald tracts victimized by deforestation.

  As a child, Thad grew accustomed to feeling like no one existed beyond he and his parents, living secluded in his own island in the sky far above the rest of the world. He was homeschooled, primarily by his mother (his father taking over his more advanced math and science lessons as Thad got older) until she died of cancer when he was ten. Then his father brought in private tutors.

  Starting at age twelve, Thad apprenticed at his father's private practice after his lessons and during the summer times. Early on Thad showed interests in studying diseases and bacterial infections. Whereas most kids were still trying to decide a general area of interest in life, still trying to decide which side of the brain they preferred to use, Thad entered college at sixteen and barreled towards medical school, intent on specializing in microbiology, with cancer fixed squarely in his crosshairs.

  Aside from his studies, Thad's father also tried to impress upon him the importance of being involved in the political process. As a prominent member of the community, Dr. Palmer would receive a copy of the city council's proposed agenda a few days in advance of their monthly public hearings. He and his son would discuss the particular itinerary items over dinner, as well as the community member who requested the item be brought before the council and why.

  Once a month, father and son would dress as if going to church to participate in the local hearings. Thad and his father would sit in the audience and watch the proceedings, Dr. Palmer explaining to his son the stringent yet basic principles of Robert's Rules of Order, checking off agenda items as the meeting went on, and commenting quietly on the particulars of what was discussed.