The Home: A Zombie Survival Short Story

by Chris Stoesen

  From behind Mikayla, Meredith spoke, "Oh my, he's not a bashful guy, is he."

  "Leave the nice man alone, ladies. We need to open the med cart."

  He moved to the office door and looked inside. The medical cart was locked inside. Not wanting to wait, he lifted his booted foot and kicked the door handle. The door broke and swung into the room. He waved Mikayla into the room to look at the cart.

  She moved into the room and pulled at the drawers of the medical cart. They were, of course, locked. She pulled a small flashlight from her pocket and shone it around the room. There on the wall was a set of keys on a lanyard. The type a busy nurse would wear around her neck when trying to administer medications to thirty or so patients. She grabbed the keys and began to work. The fifth key on the ring of eight keys unlocked the medical cart. The top drawer had some notes taken on the patients. It was dated two weeks ago. Just about the time the outbreak began. These people had been abandoned, but the staff took the time to lock up the medications and tidy up before they left. She just shook her head in disbelief.

  On top of the medical cart was a closed laptop computer. That probably had everything she needed to know, but if there was any kind of password on it, it would take too long to figure it out. She went through the various drawers looking for a familiar vial.

  In the third drawer, she found it. She pulled the vial out of the box and read the tag. It was insulin. But the handwritten date on the vial made her heart sink. The vial was over four weeks old. She knew that if you did not refrigerate insulin, it would go bad in less than a month. The vial in her hand was worthless. She slid it in her pocket anyway.

  "Carlton, we need to find the fridge where they keep the meds cool."

  She used her flashlight to check her pump. The small box that kept a constant stream of insulin to her blinked its warning. She was running low. If the light turned to red, she had less than four days to live. Her hope was now, but a small dying ember. After all, if they refilled her pump, that only gave her another month's supply. They had to keep any extra that they found cold. There was a sword poised above her head and the threads holding it there were slowly parting.

  Carlton called out, "Follow me."

  He swept the area in front of them. They moved into the center of the atrium. The last time Carlton was here, he remembered it being so neat and orderly. There was a puddle at the base of the tree. Apparently the wall was not the only target of Jerry's bladder relief efforts.

  The first of the wheelchairs was in front of them. Carlton pushed on the body with the barrel of his rifle. The body was stiff and unyielding. It also smelled of death and feces. With no one to feed or give these people their medicines, they had died wherever they had rolled themselves. Shining the flashlight on the second wheelchair in the atrium, he spotted his Aunt Jenny. She too had died in her chair while waiting for something.

  A wave of regret washed over Carlton. True, he was not Jenny and Bill's child, he still felt like he should have come sooner or done more for them. He tried to visit as often as he could, but he had his own family to worry about. Carlton shook himself out of his sadness and continued his sweep of the atrium.

  The third wheelchair was empty.

  "Stay sharp. There may be more moving in here than old Jerry."

  There was another hissing fluid sound from behind them to the right. Both Mikayla's light and the light on his rifle illuminated Jerry taking a drink from the water fountain. Then they also heard a dragging noise.

  Emerging from behind the half wall that separated hallway from the atrium emerged a slow moving zombie. The zombie was a former patient. She must have crawled right past Jerry. From the dress and the obvious wig, Carlton recognized her as one of the patients who lived just down the hall from Aunt Jenny. Her name used to be Mildred. The left side of her face was chewed off.

  From what he remembered, she was the sharpest of the patients in the ALF. Her main issue was mobility. She lacked the strength to stand or move herself around in her wheelchair. But here she was dragging her undead form across the ground. The virus did not make them any stronger. The zombie still had the limitations of the body that it took over. They just did not fatigue the way the living did.

  "There are zombies in here. Stay alert. Don't get to close too anyone," Carlton warned.

  Carlton took aim and fired a single shot that blew off the back of undead Mildred's head. She dropped to the ground, unmoving. The girls were impressed. The only sound the rifle made was a light pop. The sound of the chamber cycling was louder than the shot and the clink of brass on the tile floor was louder still. That was a quiet rifle.

  Meredith whispered, "Where do you think the zombie is that bit the old lady? And why did that one not attack Jerry. He was right there and she moved within inches of him."

  With a shrug, Carlton pointed to Mildred's now still form, "I don't know, ask her."

  Both girls simultaneously responded, "Smart ass."

  Carlton grinned fiercely as if he was paid a wonderful compliment.

  They turned and continued their movement across the atrium. Ahead of them was the dining area. There was a small enclosed room in the center that was for family visits with their loved one. It had a glassed in wall and door so other residents could watch their lucky fellow inmate eat with family or friends. To either side was a small dining area with five tables on each side. There were four place settings on each square table.

  Carlton advanced slowly. The two figures at the tables did not move. The first was an elderly white man. His dentures were on the table next to his head. He had his hands folded on the table with his head resting on them.

  Again, Carlton prodded the back of the man. This one sat up straight and opened and closed his mouth a few times. To announce to the world that he was now fully awake, the man proceeded to let loose a terrific fart. The methane released from the man's bowels did not improve the scent cocktail that permeated the room.

  Carlton studied the man. His skin looked normal as well, besides a few liver spots. There was no sign of the virus in him. He did not turn to look behind him.

  "Damn. That just stinks. I bet it's been a while since you have been changed too. Poor guy."

  Carlton did not recognized him but had seen him before. He had rather advanced dementia and was usually found asleep. Carlton had spotted him trying doors on previous visits looking for a way out. Not seeing anyone, the man laid his head back down on the table and closed his eyes.

  Seeing how slowly the living were moving around the room, Mikayla asked, "if there are zombies in here, how are Jerry and this guy still normal, er, almost normal? They can't get away from them."

  "I have no idea. Maybe, when the mind is as far gone as these folks, the virus has no interest in it. Whatever it feeds on, is no longer present."

  "But that old lady zombie, she was turned," Meredith responded.

  "Ah, she did not have Alzheimer's or dementia. Her daughter is an asshole. She locked her up in here, paid the bill for a year and never came by to visit. The place wanted to release her to a nicer place but the daughter would not respond. She was a wonderful lady. She had great stories about entertaining soldiers during the Korean War while working for the USO."

  "So zombies only want healthy brains. That explains why Meredith is still around," quipped Mikayla.

  In response, Meredith held up a middle finger in Mikayla's face.

  The next body in repose at a table was dead. They could smell the death coming off of the lady. Her head was lying in a bowl of long cold soup. The back of the dining area was again separated off from a hallway by half walls that were less than four feet high. The gap in the middle of the half wall revealed a pair of legs wearing a white pants and tennis shoes. A bite mark was present on the leg. Carlton leaned over the wall and saw the body of the nurse. It was Penny. She was the kindest of the nursing staff. She greeted all of the patients with a hug and a kiss. Now she lay not just undead, but truly dead as a frying pan had caved in the side
of her head. Someone swung that pan with a bit of force to drop the undead Penny like that. The pan that had done her in was lying beside the body.

  "Someone else, is or was here," Carlton whispered back. He pointed to the body of the nurse.

  "That was Penny. She was my aunt and uncle's favorite nurse. Seems she got infected. I wonder if between her and Mildred, if one of them had bitten the other."

  Leaning further around into the hallway, he could see the cleanup area. It was stacked with dirty dishes. The doorway to the kitchen was obscured. He moved around the half wall and into the cleanup area. Light spilled out from underneath the kitchen door.

  Carlton reached out with his left hand and pushed the door open and glanced in. There on the floor was a middle aged black man. He sat bolt upright and picked up a heavy cast iron frying pan. His eyes were wild and he looked panicked.

  Before anyone could say or do anything, five patients stood and moved in front of the man. As far as Carlton could tell, they were all uninfected. Most had a far away look in their eyes. One of the patients was immediately recognizable. It was Uncle Bill. Before he had a moment to say anything, Bill pointed at Carlton.

  "Damn it, the gooks are in the perimeter. We need fire support. Sergeant, call HQ and tell them we need some Hotel Echo in the worst way!"

  Bill shouted this at the top of his lungs and started moving towards Carlton with a frying pan in his hands.

  "Shit, not again," muttered Carlton. He then stood straighter and barked out in a parade ground voice, "Captain Wilson, I need a status report."

  Much to the amazement of the girls and to the man that the patients were protecting, Bill Wilson came to attention and saluted.

  "Forgive me colonel. Things have been a bit tense here on the front. We are out of ammo. The enemy has breached out position and we have had to resort to fighting with entrenching tools."

  He held up his frying pan with that last bit.

  With a serious frown on his face, Carlton continued, "what are your losses captain?"

  "Sir, they are quite severe. I have two men out on forward patrol. The rest of my command is here in the bunker. Without resupply, I don't think we can hold out. Are the rumors true, sir? Are these gooks really the red Chinese?"

  "I am afraid so, soldier. May I speak with your men?"

  "Be my guest colonel."

  With that, a spark that was in Bill's eyes vanished. He slowly moved off and sat in a chair. The other patients likewise moved to sit down either in wheelchairs or in chairs that had been brought back into the kitchen.

  "Hello there Amos. What are you doing here on the floor?"

  Amos put the frying pan down and tried to catch his breath. He tilted his head sideways to his right side and had a look of concentration. His eyes narrowed as he thought. In a flash they opened again with recognition.

  "Carlton, is that you?"

  "Yeah, it's me. What are you doing here?"

  Carlton came fully into the room and looked around. The kitchen was a mess. The five residents and Amos had obviously been living there for some time. Amos wrinkled his forehead and asked the question that had been bugging him about Carlton's exchange with Bill.

  "Carlton, what was all that stuff you and Bill were talking about?"

  "Ah, yes. Bill was a captain in the Korean War. His men were nearly overrun when the Chinese intervened in the conflict. It seems that he thinks the zombies are Red Chinese infiltrators. He had flashbacks like this before. It's worse in winter when he sees snow. Before he moved in here, I had to take away his bullets for his rifle least he shot the mailman. His mailman was Vietnamese. Bill accused him on more than one occasion of being a communist infiltrator.""

  Feeling alone and scared, Meredith and Mikayla soon came into the kitchen as well. Carlton introduced them to Amos. Since Amos was at ease, the residents did not rise up as they did when Carlton had first entered.

  "What happened here Amos?"

  "Well, when things all went to shit, the staff packed up and left and ordered me out too. I went home, but it did not sit right to let these people just die here without help. I'm no nurse, but I can cook for 'em. So I came back. I found Penny walking back. She said her car got in a wreck and that some man bit her. We came to the place and I started work cooking for the folks. Penny was giving out the meds and then she turned. The funny thing is, she only attacked one resident, Mildred. Poor Mildred just stayed there in her chair. Bill started shouting that 'the gooks were in the wire,' whatever the hell that means, and came into the kitchen. He grabbed a pan and killed Penny. Things were pretty quiet here. With no one to give them their meds, the patients started dying pretty quickly. I am sorry to say that Jenny did not make it. She was peaceful at the end, though. We have not had any visitors, but as far as I know, there are only seven residents left. Jerry is outside as is Henry."

  "Thank you for that, Amos."

  "I can't take care of them. You smell that out there. I started putting the dead ones in their rooms and locking the doors. But I just can't go on much longer. It's just too hard. I'm doing my best. There here can do some stuff for themselves. When Penny turned, I could not do her job. She came right after me. She ignored the patients and came right after me. If it was not for old Bill, I'd be dead."

  The man started to sob.

  "You did all you could Amos. More than anyone had a right to expect you to. Thank you for taking care of my Aunt and Uncle."

  Amos nodded. The four sat there quietly for a while.

  With a loud sniff, Amos asked, "How did you get here, Carlton? No other patients' families have come for their kin. Why did you come?"

  "Yeah, I found myself having dinner with these two. They were home from college break and wanted to talk. They were in my fifth-grade Sunday school class if you can believe it. I catch up with a few of them each time they are in town. It just so happened, we were there together when things fell apart. We had my car for a while, but now we are stuck on foot. Mikayla here is diabetic. She needs insulin. Do you know if the med fridge has any?"

  Amos scratched his chin, "Yeah, it should. Jenny had a ninety-day supply around here somewhere. Let's see what we can do."

  He got up off of the ground and moved to the locked refrigerator. It was a normal looking fridge. It had a latch and padlock that spanned the two facing doors securing them together.

  "Do you have a key?"

  Shaking his head, "Naw, you don't need one. That is just there for looks. The front wall of that fridge is cheap as shit."

  He grabbed the lock and pulled. The lock and clasp pulled out of the four holes that it's screws had been resting in.

  "That damn lock was just there for looks. No inspector actually looked closely at it. We only unlocked it when there was an inspector checking us."

  Opening the fridge, Mikayla found what she wanted. There was a bag labeled Jenny McKendrick. She opened the bag and saw the vials. There had to be something like thirty of them. That was a considerable amount of medicine. She took the bag out of the fridge and set it on the counter.

  Taking off her bag, she rested it on the table on the right side of the room. A quick search had her find the syringe she was looking for. She asked the doctor to show her how to refill the pump when she was just 10 years old. The doc, who surely was dead or undead now, actually showed her how to do it. He even let her do it when she came into the office a few times.

  With a practiced hand, she filled the syringe and then refilled her pump. It took a couple of fills, but then the light changed back to green. She had picked up plenty of batteries. Now all she needed was a way to keep the other vials cool.

  The four sat in the room quietly for a few minutes when Mikayla spotted a small insulated lunch box.

  "Can I have that?," she pointed to the lunch box.

  Amos looked behind himself and shrugged his shoulders, "Why not. Penny does not need it anymore."

  With a couple of quick steps she grabbed the lunch box and opened it. Thankfully, there was
nothing inside and it was clean. She placed the bag inside the lunch box cooler. While she was doing this, Amos went to the walk-in freezer. He came back out with about five small cold packs. He placed them on the table next to Mikayla.

  "They ship us the meds that need to be refrigerated with these. Andrea, the administrator here, does not throw anything that could be useful away. Take them. That should help you out.

  Mikayla threw her arms around Amos and gave him a hug.

  "Thank you. These are perfect."

  She proceeded to place them inside the lunch box, then zipped the seal. The lunch box found its way inside her backpack a few moments later.

  They heard a moan outside the door.

  Carlton shook his head, "You know, half of the stink out there is from Jerry peeing on everything, don't you."

  The residents stood again and moved in front of Amos again. Amos' eyes grew wide and he motioned for Carlton and the girls to come next to them and duck down.

  Whispering, Amos said, "That ain't Jerry."

  The door slowly pushed open. A man in a business suit entered with a shuffling gait. He was missing his left loafer. They could see his legs and little else from their crouched position. The man stopped. Another pushed in behind the first. This one was wearing jogging shorts. The left leg was mutilated with multiple bite marks. Dried blood was caked all around the wounds.

  Carlton shouldered the rifle to prepare to engage. The two zombies just stood there for five minutes. A silent face off occurred between the undead and the patients. The zombies moaned. In an almost matching reply, one of the lady patients with their group also moaned. Both groups swayed slightly as they attempted to keep their balance. Looks were traded between Amos, the girls and Carlton. Mikayla's arms started to shake with fear. Sweat rolled down Amos' face. Carlton flexed his hands on his rifle and pulled it tighter into his shoulder. Meredith closed her eyes and her mouth moved in a silent prayer. Slowly, the two zombies turned around and went back out into the main room. The kitchen door swung shut behind them.

  A shaking Meredith quietly asked, "What the fuck just happened?"