3.2 As the World Dies Untold Tales Vol. 2

by Rhiannon Frater

  “Crap!”

  “Reload it!”

  “Do you know how?”

  “No,” Ken whispered.

  Lenore flipped the shotgun around and held it by its warm barrel as Mr. Thames drew closer.

  “Let’s run!”

  “It will follow us!”

  Ken sobbed while he clutched the cat carrier even tighter in his arms.

  “I’m gonna hit its head,” Lenore said. She blinked her eyes, trying to focus on the task. “I’ll hit him until he doesn’t move, then we run to the house.”

  She saw Ken nod wildly beside her. Lenore fought back fear and concentrated her attention on the zombie. Beyond the walking remains of Mr. Thames, she could see more zombies gathering around the accident, feasting on what was left of that poor girl in the car. It was only a matter of time before they saw Ken and Lenore.

  Ken unexpectedly let out a frantic, awful noise and rushed Mr. Thames. He shoved Cher’s cat carrier into the old man’s chest, toppling him over. The zombie tried to grab onto Ken, but her friend skirted away, clutching the carrier tight as Cher caterwauled angrily.

  “Hit him, Lenore! Hurry!”

  Lenore danced around Mr. Thames’s grasping hands and smashed the butt of the shotgun down onto his head. It made a horrible noise as his skull shattered and dented in. Yet, he continued to grab at her. Lenore slammed it down a second time and busted in the front of Mr. Thames’s face. It was shocking to see his features vanish beneath her blow in a gout of blood. She hit him one more time and finally he stopped thrashing.

  “Run! Run! Run!” Ken screamed. He turned and ran.

  A swift look down the street told the horrible story. The zombies had seen them and were coming. Some struggled just to walk, while others easily leapt up and started to sprint toward Lenore.

  Lenore dashed after Ken. Her head swam a bit as she struggled to keep running in a straight line toward her grandmother’s house. Cussing under her breath, she clutched the empty shotgun tightly in her hands. She would not die today without a fight.

  “The blue house, Ken!” she shouted. “Run to the blue house!”

  Ken darted across the lawn to the house and started banging on the front door.

  Lenore forced breath into her painfully-constricting lungs, but it was getting harder to run. Her body felt so heavy and her head felt like it was about to fall off her shoulders.

  “Please, please, please,” she prayed.

  She was almost to the front yard of the house when she heard the first gunshot. She let out a wheezing gasp and spun around to see that the zombies were still in pursuit. A few broke off the main pack toward Tito Hernandez, Olympia’s son. Her grandmother’s best friend was nowhere to be seen, but her son was on the lawn of her home firing at the zombies. He was snarling out cusswords in Spanish as he deftly fired at the running crowd. His short form was rippling with muscles and sweat beaded on his tan skin. His short black hair glistened wetly from the oil he always used to slick it back and his sunglasses hid his dark eyes.

  “Run, Lenore, run!” He continued to fire and reload calmly.

  The zombies fell beneath his bullets, but there were at least five still heading straight for him.

  Ken continued to bang on the door. “Let us in! Let us in!”

  Lenore reached the walk up to the house and huffed and puffed her way up to the steps. Checking over her shoulder, she saw the zombies struggling to maneuver over the white picket fence bordering the Hernandez house. The zombies had forgotten about Lenore and were focused on the Hispanic man. Tito continued to pick them off one by one. He was coolly efficient and brutal with his accuracy.

  “Do you have your key?” Ken was gasping loudly.

  “Yeah, hold on,” she answered, and handed him the bloodied shotgun. She fumbled around in her jean pockets while Cher, the very upset kitty, meowed loudly.

  “Where is my Mama?” Tito’s voice was surprisingly close. He was already running up the walk. Behind him the street was littered with dead zombies.

  Lenore managed to grab the key out of her pocket and shoved into the lock. “I don’t know.”

  “Is she with your grandma?” Tito reloaded his pistol and looked around uneasily.

  “I don’t know,” Lenore said and unlocked the front door.

  “Be careful, Lenore,” Tito said to her. “Open it slowly.”

  Lenore swallowed and nodded. She gently pressed the door open. Her grandmother came into view. She was lying on the floor; face down, the phone still clutched in one hand. Without thinking, Lenore rushed to her side and fell to her knees. “Grandma!”

  Ken stumbled in, clutching the cat carrier, and looking around. “Lenore, be careful! She might be a zombie!”

  Tito stepped just inside the front door. “Lenore, be careful, chica. Seriously. This shit is whacked out. Back up.”

  “What he said,” Ken agreed.

  Lenore blinked back tears and shook her head. “No, not my grandma. No.” Her voice sounded wrong to her. It was muffled by emotion and the damn ringing in her ears.

  Tito appeared about to say something when Lenore saw a figure lurch into view behind him.

  “Tito!” Lenore’s voice sounded shrill to her own ears.

  The tiny Mexican man whirled about as his mother stepped onto the porch behind him.

  “Mama?”

  The old woman opened her mouth and blood spilled over her lips as she let out a hungry moan. Grabbing onto Tito, the old woman moved in swiftly for a bite.

  13.

  Trapped

  “On my gawd!” Ken shrieked as he stumbled away from the door.

  Tito didn’t say a word as he lifted his pistol and fired a shot straight up through the old woman’s neck as she lunged forward to bite him. A fountain of blood and brain matter erupted from the rear of her head. The silent zombie slid to the porch in a heap.

  Rotating sharply, Tito shoved Ken further into the house. Without a word, he locked the screen door, shut the heavy wood door, and bolted it shut.

  Ken stood in the foyer, clutching the yowling cat’s carrier to his chest. Lenore stared in shock at Tito. The Hispanic man walked rapidly across the living room, fell into a recliner, raised the hand still clutching the pistol to his forehead, and began to pray in Spanish.

  Lenore couldn’t imagine what he was feeling. She had felt as if the world had ended the second she saw her grandmother lying on the floor of their tiny little house. Her heart had literally skipped a beat in her chest. Looking at her grandmother’s fallen form, she knew she had to find out if she was alive or dead. She picked up a heavy leaded glass bowl from the coffee table, dumped out the plastic fruit, and moved to her grandmother’s side.

  Kneeling next to the woman who had raised her with a firm hand and a loving smile, Lenore could barely breathe. Her ribs suddenly felt too tight for her body and her chest hurt. Her grandmother’s face looked peaceful as if she was sleeping.

  “I don’t see any blood,” Lenore whispered to Ken. Her hand clutched the heavy glass bowl at her side, ready to strike. But would she be able to?

  Ken remained motionless, breathing heavily, his eyes wide.

  Tito’s prayer ended abruptly. Lenore heard the creak of the chair as he stood and his footfalls approaching. The tips of his battered boots came into view as he stood over her grandmother. Lenore raised her head to see he was aiming his pistol over her grandmother’s head.

  “Put the bowl down. I’ll do it if we have to,” he said.

  Lenore did as he said, then gripped her grandmother’s arm. Shaking the old woman, Lenore could feel her own heart pounding even harder. If her grandmother opened her eyes to reveal those terrible milky dead eyes, she didn’t think she could hold onto her sanity.

  A low, uneven moan issued forth from the old woman’s lips.

  “Oh, God,” Ken whispered.

  Tito didn’t fire, but Lenore saw his body tense.

  “Grandma?” Lenora’s voice rasped over the word. “Grandma, wake
up!”

  Her grandmother sat up swiftly.

  Tito and Lenore both jumped back.

  “Lord Jesus, save me,” her grandmother exclaimed and stared up at them in shock.

  Tito let out a long breath and lowered the pistol.

  “Grandma, you’re alive!” Lenore hugged her tight, relief flooding her.

  “Oh, thank God!” Ken threw his arms around both of them.

  “I won’t be if you keep on squeezing me like this!”

  Lenore released her grandmother, her smile so wide she felt as if her cheeks would crack.

  Her grandmother straightened her dress and looked around warily. Still woozy, she raised a hand to her head. “Okay, I remember going to the door and seeing...” She fell silent and glanced up at Tito sadly. “There were all sorts of bad stuff on the TV. I didn’t think it was here yet. But I saw-”

  “I already took care of her,” Tito said in a pained tone.

  Lenore helped her grandmother stand. She could almost hear the older woman’s bones creaking.

  “I was on the phone with her and she said someone was at the door. We were in the middle of our soap opera and I wasn’t too pleased about her taking off just when Stefano was revealing his evil plans. Then I heard her screaming.” Grandma leaned heavily against the back of her sofa and sighed. “I couldn’t do nothing, but listen. It was awful.”

  Tito didn’t move, but Lenore saw a tear on his cheek under his dark sunglasses.

  “I went to the door and looked out and saw her out there...” Grandma sighed and shook her head. “…on the porch and Mr. Thames was...he was…I guess it was too much. I remember I was gonna go get the gun and then...I think I fainted.”

  “So none of those things got you in any way or into the house?” Tito asked.

  “No. No. I’m sorry, Tito, about your mother.”

  “Me, too, Grandma.” Tito lightly kissed her cheek. “I’m going to double-check the doors and windows. You three stay here.”

  Lenore lovingly embraced her grandmother, relishing the soft warmth of her body. She was given a firm, tight hug, then released. Ken flung his arms around the old woman and was rewarded with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  “It’s good to see you two are okay. Sorry to scare you, but my blood pressure makes it rough on me sometimes. I better take my pills.”

  Tito slipped back into the living room. The house was so small it didn’t take much time to check it. “Windows and doors are all locked. I closed all the curtains so that they can’t see us in here. Better close those, too.”

  Ken hurried over and slid the heavy velvet curtains over the bay window. They were plunged into an eerie darkness.

  “I need my revolver,” Grandma decided. “It’s under my bed.”

  “I’ll get it,” Tito said. “I want you three to stay in this room until I can figure out what to do next.”

  “You know, we can’t stay here,” Ken said in a quavering voice. “Once they figure out we are in here, they’re gonna get in.”

  “I know, man. That is why I gotta think,” Tito’s voice was sharp. “Just let me think, okay?” He walked out of the living room and into the kitchen.

  Ken made a face as Tito disappeared and Lenore shook her finger at him. “He just had to kill his own mama.”

  “He doesn’t need to snap my head off. I’m just trying to help!” Ken sulkily sat in a chair, Cher’s carrier on his lap, and his bag at his side.

  “It’s okay, baby. We’ll get out of here,” Grandma assured him.

  Ken’s skin was too pale and Lenore was worried about how much he was sweating. She felt completely exhausted, too, but Ken appeared sickly. He was not emotionally resilient. The day was definitely too much for her to bear so she imagined he must be on the verge of a breakdown.

  Tito reappeared with the revolver, sliding bullets into the cylinder as he walked. Lenore had forgotten all about the revolver. It had belonged to her grandfather.

  “Can you shoot this?”

  “I can shoot it,” Grandma said confidently. “I can kill those zombies. Trust me. After what I saw them do to Olympia, I can shoot ‘em.”

  Tito nodded as he handed it over.

  “I don’t know how to reload this,” Lenore confessed, pointing to the shotgun. “I beat the zombie with it instead.”

  Tito’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Okay. Let me show you how to do that. Where is the ammo?”

  Lenore lifted Mr. Cloy’s bag and the shells inside rattled around. For the next few minutes, Tito patiently explained to both her and Ken how to load the shotgun and what they had to do to fire it. Ken seemed to be barely paying attention and looked sleepy. Despite her head hurting so badly she wanted to remove her brain to release the pressure, Lenore felt keenly awake. She shook Ken a few times and he looked at her blearily.

  “Keep alert,” Lenore ordered him.

  Ken nodded. “I need water.”

  “I’ll get it,” Grandma said.

  “Be careful,” Tito ordered.

  “I got my revolver. I’m okay,” she answered, heading to the kitchen. Her fuzzy pink slippers slapped against the wood floor as she walked.

  “What are we going to do now?” Lenore asked Tito.

  “Get out of here. Out of the house. Out of town.”

  “We can take the old caddy in the garage,” Lenore decided.

  “I was thinking about Mr. Thames’s old RV,” Tito answered. “He’s got that thing in mint condition.”

  “We’d have to go across the road for that.” Fear filled Ken’s voice and his eyes seemed even more sunken than before.

  “We can do it if we’re smart,” Tito promised him. “Load up on supplies here, get them into the caddy, drive not to the front of his house, but down the alley in the back to where the RV is, load up, get out of town.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Grandma piped up as she came into the living room holding a tall glass of ice water for Ken. “The zombies are trying to get in the back gate. I think the faster we’re out of here, the better.”

  Ken seized the glass of water and gulped it down like it was vodka. Lenore didn’t blame him. Her stomach was quivering with anxiety.

  “Let’s get packing and moving,” Tito said.

  Instead of rushing to obey his words, they all stood in silence and listened as something began to beat on the front door. Fear filled the room. Lenore felt like she was going to choke on it.

  “Children, we can’t stay here and wait for them to get in. Get moving. Now!” Grandma glowered at them, waving her hands.

  Her voice jarred them out of their frozen state and they began to quickly gather anything they would need on the road. Lenore watched Ken hurry to the kitchen, clutching his bag and cat carrier. He still looked bad, but at least he was moving. That gave her hope.

  Then a second set of fists began to pound on the screen door and she could hear the metal frame rattling.

  Time was running out.

  14.

  Planning to Escape

  Ken stood hopelessly in the kitchen not sure what he should be doing. He couldn’t remember what Tito had said. In fact, he was having trouble stringing his thoughts together into anything coherent.

  The banging on the front door resounded through the house. Ken couldn’t stop shaking uncontrollably and he just wanted to be with Lenore. Standing alone in the kitchen, he felt vulnerable. He sought out Lenore’s bedroom, desperate to be safely near her.

  He switched Cher’s carrier to his other hand and flexed his numb one. He had not realized how hard he had been clutching the handle. Inside the carrier, Cher let out another low hiss of frustration.

  “Shh, Cher. It’s okay,” he lied. He swallowed hard, trying to get the nasty lump out of his throat.

  At last he found the bedroom. Inside, Lenore was tossing some of her possessions into a bag. Her expression was a grim reminder of when he had done the exact same thing in his apartment. It wasn’t easy packing up a little piece of your life with no
idea when – or if - you would return. Lenore had already gone through this once before with Hurricane Rita. She had left for the shelter believing she would have a home to return to, but that had not been the case.

  Ken suspected that neither of them would be returning home this time. Zombies trumped hurricanes in the life-ruining category.

  “Stop staring at me,” Lenore ordered grumpily.

  “I can’t help it! I’m afraid if I look away I’ll lose you.”

  “You’re being a silly girl,” Lenore chided. She snatched a magazine photo of Common off her mirror and shoved it into the bag.

  Ken sniffled loudly as he realized any chances of either of them finding the man of their dreams were greatly diminished. The world had gone to hell and he was single. Freaking zombies had to ruin everything.

  “We’re getting out of here and going somewhere safe. So stop crying and be tough.” Lenore fixed her stern gaze on him.

  Even with a fresh wave of fear washing over him, Ken nodded and squared his shoulders.

  Lenore lugged her bag out of the room and into the kitchen. Ken trailed closely behind her.

  Tito was in the kitchen throwing canned and boxed food into plastic bags, mumbling in Spanish. He was swift in his movements and he seemed a little more agitated than he had been earlier.

  “What’s wrong?” Ken shifted uneasily on his feet.

  “I got through to my wife. She’s visiting family down in Laredo. It’s bad there, too. She took off in the car with my kids and my youngest brother. They’re having trouble getting out of the area.” His words were uttered in a tight, frustrated tone.

  Ken felt his stomach tighten. He had the desire to run to the bathroom and throw up. If Tito left them now...

  “Go get your grandma. We need to go. More of those things are out there.”

  Lenore dropped her bag and hurried out of the kitchen to find her grandmother.

  “Do you think we can make it?” Ken hated the way his voice cracked.

  “No,” Tito answered honestly. “But we have to try. I have to get to my family. Chances are it’s not gonna happen, but I gotta try. I’m going to get you guys going to a safe place, then take off to find them.”