The Dead Are Sleeping

by Paul Westwood

  The force of the lead shot tore into her body with savage force. The white skin of her chest turned black with the color of blood in the moonlight. That massive damage would have stopped anyone but it was only a temporary setback for this creature. She only faltered one step before coming on again. It seemed impossible. I chambered another shell and fired without aiming. There was no time to do anything else.

  She was so close. The load of buckshot hit her square in the head, smashing the skull open with a sickening sound that reminded me of a pumpkin being broken against the curb. The remnant of humanity fell backward, taking a few steps like a broken marionette before falling into a heap. A wave of guilt, stronger than my other killings, washed over me. My knees began to buckle. Bile rose in my throat. Turning my head I threw up. I wondered what kind of monster I had become.

  I didn’t have a chance to finish that thought. A chorus of screeches and screams began to grow louder and louder. The sound was coming from the house. I looked that way and at that moment a whole mob of pale skinned creatures burst out of the open door. There were at least two or three dozen of them, all heading toward me. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my body. I left the gas can and pump on the ground. Turning, I began to run toward the truck, going as fast as I could.

  “Sarah! Start the truck! Sarah!” I heard myself shouting, my voice gripped with panic.

  I got to the street. The footsteps of my pursuers were growing louder in my ears. There was the truck. The single headlight was on, throwing a beam of light on the street. There was the sound of the engine revving and then the truck lurched backward hard enough that the tires chirped on the asphalt. The movement stopped. Sarah was trying to drive! I headed for the passenger door, opened it, and jumped inside. As I shut the door, I turned and saw the hands of my pursuers against the glass window.

  “Go!” I shouted.

  Sarah was in the driver’s seat, her body close to the steering wheel as her short legs barely reached the pedals. She was screaming in frustration. The hands of those creatures – ghastly white – were now pounding against the metal and glass of the truck, surrounding us. Their screeching and wailing was reaching a fevered pitch. Reaching over, I blindly pulled the transmission lever all the way down. I snaked my left foot over and jammed the gas pedal down, crushing Sarah’s foot at the same time. The truck leapt forward, bogged as the cursed traction control came on, and then shot ahead. I managed to jerk the steering wheel in time to miss the parked car in front of us. And then we were clear, accelerating hard.

  I glanced behind us and saw the pale mob still chasing us, going as fast as they could to try and keep up. In another few seconds the truck was over a hill and the creatures were out of sight.

  Sarah was sobbing, her eyes glistening with tears from the light of the dashboard.

  October 22nd - Night

  Sarah pulled over so I could take over driving. As we switched positions, I heard the terror in her voice as she spoke.

  “What were those things?” she asked.

  I shook my head as I put the truck into gear and drove forward. “I don’t know. I really don’t. All I know is that we have to put as much space as we can between them and us.”

  We were still somewhere in the middle of the town. I wondered how many more of those creatures – whatever they are – were out there. Was it just that house or was this entire area filled with them? I remembered the cryptic warning those two men had told us. At the time I didn’t believe a word they had to say. Now I felt like a fool for not listening to them.

  In the weak glow of the single headlight I saw another figure on the left side of the road. The neck of this thin man turned toward us and he immediately gave chase, having enough time to try and grab at the front fender. He missed but kept on coming after us. And then I saw another one, this was a woman with gray hair and a stained nightgown, who was on the other side of the road. She also gave chase. I began to speed up. This new development was unnerving.

  “They’re everywhere!” Sarah exclaimed.

  “I know, I know,” I grumbled as I picked up the speed. They wouldn’t be an issue in singles or even a small group, but in a large mob these things could overwhelm us. We had to get out of here as soon as possible.

  Our luck held out. Except for getting temporarily lost near a row of factories and having to run down one of the pale creatures, we soon broke free of the city and got back into the country. Here there were no signs of them but I still didn’t feel any safer. Were these things just here at this city or everywhere? I didn’t know. But my larger worry was the state of the gas tank. The truck was nearly out; the gas warning light had been on for the past few miles. This truck had a thirsty mill and perhaps wasn’t the best choice for this type of long journey. But at least it could carry a lot of gear. And when you had to scavenge to live, that was important.

  Eventually I found a place to park the truck. I pulled in behind a rural gas station with smashed out windows, a few battered cars, and a dense line of pine trees in the back.

  “Stay here,” I said to Sarah. “I want to take a look around before we commit to staying here.” Glancing at the gas gauge, I added. “Though we’re not going to have much choice since we can’t go on much further on the fuel we have left.” I turned the engine off and got out of the truck. The shotgun was held at the ready. No one was here so I cradled the shotgun in the crook of my arm and turned on the flashlight. I went toward the back entrance of the gas station.

  I stopped midstride. I suddenly remembered what I had seen at my neighborhood: the figure rushing out of the burning house that was gunned down by the soldiers. That automatic gunfire had done nothing to that person until a headshot had taken it out. Was it related? If it was then it meant these creatures were not a local phenomenon. They could be all over the place. Was the virus the cause of all of this? But that was impossible. Anne was dead. My friends and family were dead. That was an indisputable fact. I heard the last breaths of my wife – I knew she was dead. The thought of her coming back to life and trying to claw out of that grave would drive me to madness.

  The backdoor of the gas station was unlocked. I went inside, running the beam of the flashlight along the walls and floor. This store, like so many others, had been thoroughly looted, but there was a door that led to a back office. The door could be locked from the inside and there was even a brown, cigarette burned sofa here, along with the scratched desk, chair, and a metal filing cabinet. The carpet was threadbare and the padding was thin enough that I could feel the concrete underneath. It would have to do for now.

  I returned to the back door and waved the flashlight at the truck. I saw Sarah come out, and then run toward me, going as fast as she could.

  “Are you alright?” I asked when she finally joined me.

  “I’m just a little scared,” she admitted. She was breathing fast, her eyes looking all around. “I keep expecting one of those things to pop out of those trees and get me.”

  “You’re not the only one. I think this place is safe. Now take this flashlight and head toward the office. It’s behind the counter there, okay? I’ll get the stuff from the truck.”

  It took two trips but I was able to ferry the sleeping bags, the camping stove, bowls, spoons, bottled water, and a can of soup from the back of the truck. When we were settled in behind a locked door, I began to cook. I had Sarah turn off the flashlight to save batteries. The only source of light was the low blue glow of the stove fire which only added to the dark atmosphere.

  “Tell me, Sarah, was your dad really a spy? I mean did he really work for a secret organization?” I started.

  “I suppose so,” she answered easily enough. “Of course it sounds fantastic to anyone who lives outside of Washington, but the whole city is filled with spooks since the FBI, CIA, NSA, and who knows who else work there. I mean it isn’t anything special in that town.”

  That reply sounded a bit too practiced as if she had memorized it. And perhaps her father had told
her that. I said, “I guess I wouldn’t know. What kind of work did your father do?”

  “Nothing dangerous. Or at least that’s what he said. I don’t think my mom would have approved. As far as I know he just did travel arrangements, and managed planes and cars for agents. He really didn’t talk about it much. Why are you asking me all of this? Does it matter now?”

  I stirred the soup with a spoon. It was chicken and rice, if it matters. “Your father, Ben, told me a strange story about a research facility with the codename of Zeta. In light of what we saw today – those creatures that attacked us – I’m beginning to think there is a connection to this place, which had stocked up with medical research supplies. I was planning on going to South Carolina but now I’m having second thoughts.”

  “I wondered where we were going,” she commented. “I was just going along for the ride.”

  I shrugged. “I suppose I should have been more straightforward with you, but I never figured on having a travel companion. But now that I have one, I don’t mind the company. I’ll tell you my plans now. I’ve thought this through and have decided to change our destination. We’re going to head to New Orleans, where this Zeta laboratory is located. I want to see if your father’s story is true.”

  “Of course it is,” she said, eyes narrowing. The memory of her father was too fresh for her to expect anything less than perfection from him.

  I gave her an apologetic smile. “I believe it now. Let’s eat and then we will have to make our plans. We will need some gas for the truck and even more food. It’s going to be a long trip by road, and if those creatures are everywhere, very dangerous.”

  “We’ll make it,” she stated with finality.

  I hoped she was right.

  When we were done eating, Sarah took the sofa while I took the floor. When she was finally asleep – all snores and gurgles – I left the office with the shotgun. I went out to behind the counter where I could watch through the broken windows. I was wound up enough that I couldn’t sleep. I felt exhausted but the idea of being caught in that room without a way out was too much for my nerves. I stood there, looking over the debris and watched the road. My ears were busy listening too. I was there for an hour or so, feeling annoyed with myself for being so paranoid.

  But my wait was not in vain. Walking along the road was a figure with such pale skin that it practically glowed in the night. I crouched down low enough that only my eyes could see above the counter. It wasn’t shambling or lurching along like a zombie, but there was an unnatural gait to the poor creature, like the forward motion was being pushed along by some unseen animal force. The head swerved from side to side as if looking for fresh prey. I half-expected it to get down on the ground and start sniffing for signs of us. But it moved on, unaware that I was there. Soon it was gone from view.

  That encounter did little to steady my nerves. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought we could be safe hidden away here. We just had to stay quiet and out of the way. The locked door should be enough of a warning if one of them tried to gain entry. The only fear was to be discovered by a whole mob of them, where my limited firepower wouldn’t be enough to overcome their numbers. Out here in the country it was a gamble I was willing to take.

  I stayed there for another thirty minutes, fighting off the urge to sleep. I soon gave in to my body and returned to the office. Sarah was still snoring away. I stretched out on the floor and fell into a deep sleep, the shotgun only a foot away from my right hand.

  October 23rd - Morning

  I woke up feeling rotten. My eyelids were crusty and I had a headache that was centered around my temples. I looked around from my spot on the ground. The office door was open. The sofa was empty. Sarah was nowhere to be seen. I felt my heart drop into my stomach. I scrambled up from the floor, and grabbed the shotgun.

  “Sarah!” I shouted as I went out the door.

  “I’m in here,” was her reply coming from the main part of the store.

  She was on the floor, sorting through the debris. There was a little pile of wrapped junk food near her. The sun was up and a small breeze was blowing, sending paper and plastic into the air.

  I angrily said, “You scared the hell out of me. I don’t want you leaving my side, got it?”

  “Why? There’s no one around us.”

  I frowned. “After you fell asleep, I came out here to watch. I saw another one of those creatures last night. Luckily it didn’t know we were here.”

  “There hasn’t been anyone,” she said in her defense. Like a teenager, she was beginning to get angry with me for daring to question her decisions.

  Shaking my head I walked outside. I stepped past the broken glass, kicked a plastic bag out of the way, and went through the open door. There was nobody around, human or otherwise. The clouds were rolling of in the distance, the grass was tall and yellowing, and everything looked peaceful in the morning sun. I sighed, rubbed my temples, and wished the headache away. I was glad that nothing bad had happened to Sarah. I returned inside.

  “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” I said to Sarah.

  She looked shyly at me, half hiding her eyes with that wild, long hair. “It is okay, Tom.”

  “I was going to start the stove up. Is there anything you want to eat?”

  Sarah blushed. She made a face and stuck her tongue out. “I’m not very hungry.” She pointed to the pile of food by her feet. “I’ve already had enough candy.”

  “We’re all going to have rotten teeth soon,” I warned her. “I’ll make something for myself. But I want you to put away the rest of that food you found. Once I get some gasoline, we’ll be hitting the road.”

  “Okay.”

  I went back into the office and rummaged through the cans until I found some deviled ham. I ate it cold without anything else, had a few swallows of water along with some aspirin, and then went behind the counter. There I searched around behind the cash register, opening drawers and cabinets until I found a ring of several keys behind a stack of cigarette cartons. Perhaps it was hidden here on purpose. I grabbed the shotgun and motioned for Sarah to stay where she was.

  I went to the gas pumps. There were already three cars parked here, the owners probably pushing the vehicles in once their fuel ran out, only to discover that the pump didn’t work if the electricity was out. But I wondered if anyone had hit the main station tanks. Closer to the curb, and near a payphone – a rarity in this age – I saw four big iron covers that went over the underground storage tanks. Each cover was flush to the ground, but there was also an inset with a lock to stop any unauthorized tampering. Getting down on my knees, I began trying the keys until I found one that fit. With a grunt I was able to pry the cover off. A whiff of gasoline met my nostrils.

  A feeling of triumph washed over me. Resting the urge to whoop with joy, I tried to peer down the neck of the tank. I couldn’t see anything but darkness. But the smell of gasoline was strong. There had to be some fuel still down there. My hands scrambled over the asphalt until I found a small pebble. I dropped it into the neck of the tank and heard it hit bottom with a hard metallic clank and an even fainter liquid sound. That didn’t sound very promising.

  I rushed back and grabbed the flashlight. Sarah was busy packing up the sleeping bags and camping stove.

  “Did you find any gas?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I replied. “But I want you to look through the trash here and see if you can find a good length of string, a pen, and a plastic cup.”

  She gave me a quizzical look but didn’t ask any questions.

  I returned to the opening of the tank and shined the flashlight inside. Now I could see the bottom, which was a good ten feet below me. The bottom was still barely wet with just the faintest layer of gasoline. Given the length and height of the tank there were maybe a few gallons down there. It would be worth the work to get it. I turned my attention to the three other covers, unlocking all of them. Two others held gasoline – different grades – while the la
st one had diesel, which was useless to me. All of them were nearly dry, but if I combined all of the gasoline, I may have enough here to just fill the Toyota.

  Sarah came out and joined me. She was holding a wound up rope made of twisted blue and white nylon, a ballpoint pen, and a red plastic cup that would look at place in a fraternity party. She handed the items over to me.

  “Here you go. What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “Go fishing for gasoline.” I crouched on the ground to do my work. I took the ballpoint pen and pierced the cup two times near the rim, lining the holes across from each other. I then took the rope and began to unwound the blue part of the nylon until I had a thin but long enough strand to use. I cut this length with my pocket knife. A shorter length with knots on the end created a handle for my mini-plastic bucket. The longer part of the string was tied to this.

  “What we need to do,” I explained to Sarah, “is to scrape the bottom of the tank for the gasoline. We may not get much on every pass, but if we work at it long enough, we should get enough fuel to get the truck a little further down the road. Understand?” I handed the line and cup to her.

  She nodded.

  “I’m going to get an empty gas can out of the truck. You start. “

  Holding the other side of the string, Sarah dropped the cup inside of the first tank. I could hear the plastic hit the bottom and then scrape along the metal. I went to the truck and got a gas can out of the locked bed. When I returned, I saw that she already had the cup pulled up. There was only a tablespoon of fuel inside. She poured that into the open gas can.