“We don’t have time for this, Kelly,” the detective spoke in a soothing tone. It was the same voice he had used to talk jumpers away from the edge of bridges. “If you and I have a problem, we can work it out. But this is hardly the place to do it.”
Kelly did not seem to even hear what Lawrence said or notice the shells that were now just a couple hundred feet away. “You put a goddam gun in my mouth! Did you think I was just gonna forget about that? Did you think I would just go on being a good soldier?”
“Kelly, we can talk all about this but not right now,” the detective was now pleading with him. “We need to get out of here.”
“Oh, one of us is getting out of here. The thing is, only one of us is leaving.” All of a sudden, Kelly had his gun out and pointed at Lawrence.
“Kelly, what the hell are you doing?” The soothing voice was gone, and it was clear that Lawrence was angry. “You’d better think twice before you--”
Whether Kelly fired the gun on purpose or by accident, I am not sure. The bullet hit Lawrence in the left side of his stomach and knocked him off his feet.
Without realizing it, I had pulled my own gun out and pointed it at Kelly. He turned toward me, and I fired. Although I was sure I had aimed at his chest, the bullet just grazed Kelly’s shoulder.
“Hey, man! What are--” He never got a chance to finish as the bullet hit him just below the chin. His knees buckled, and he fell face first on the concrete. The knock of his skull on the pavement was like a slap in the face, and I suddenly realized how close the shells had gotten.
“Get outta here!” Lawrence yelled.
I ran over to where he was sitting on the ground. “Give me your arm so I can pull you up and get you to the van.”
“Not gonna happen. Now get outta here while you can.” He looked up and smiled at me before spreading his arms so that I could see the hole in his stomach and the pool of blood in which he was sitting.
“I can’t just leave you here. Now come on,” I demanded.
“You need to leave me here right now!” The detective yelled with all the strength he could muster.
I looked over to see the shells had reached Kelly’s body and were tearing it apart as I ran to the van.
“Take care of those kids!” Lawrence yelled as I climbed into the driver’s seat.
I started the van and shouted, “Hold on!” I stomped on the gas pedal, and we sped out of the gas station and into the street.
“Where’s Lawrence?” Taylor called from behind me.
Even as we were speeding down the street trying to avoid the undead things that were shuffling around, I wondered how I should answer that question.
The sound of gunfire that I assumed was from Lawrence’s pistol rang out again and again and again and then only silence.
The series of gunshots made up my mind as to how the question should be answered.
“Lawrence stayed at the gas station so that we could get away.” After a moment, I added, “And Kelly stayed to help him.”
“We have to go back and get him!” Taylor was suddenly standing next to me. “We have to go back right now!
“We can’t! Now go sit down and hold on! Take care of Christina!”
He spun around and went back to the couch.
I weaved through the shells that appeared to be moving up the street toward the sound of the gun shots.
“Lawrence!” Christina’s cry made it clear that Taylor had broken the news to her.
I was wondering if Christina would ever recover from losing another person who was close to her when I hit the shell of a large black woman in a pink sweat suit.
The impact did not stop the van, but it shook it pretty hard.
“You guys okay back there?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Taylor answered shakily.
“Yeah,” Christina answered though sniffles.
I hit another shell and said, “Sorry.”
I was only driving at about twenty miles an hour, but even at that speed it was hard to avoid the shells in the street. Fortunately, as we got further away from the gas station, the fewer shells we saw. When we had gone about two miles, the air exploded, and the street shook. I stopped the van and walked to the back.
From the door, we could see the flames shooting into the sky from what used to be the gas station. Even at this distance, the heat was unbearable.
I walked back to the front of the van and dropped into the driver’s seat. Taylor and Christina were silent. I knew they were both thinking of Lawrence. A picture of the big cop forced its way into my mind.
I could see him sitting on the pavement with blood pouring from the wound in his stomach. The shells were creeping closer. He winced from the pain. Lawrence wanted nothing more than to raise the gun in his hand to his temple and pull the trigger. He wanted nothing more to stop the pain and stop having to endure the sight of these shitty dead things walking around. The thought made him smile, but he knew that he could not do it. He needed to do whatever he could to help Christina and the others. Finally, he did the only thing he could. He said, “Eat shit, you fucking shells” and fired at the propane tank next to the store.
I shook the image out of my head and started the van. The street ahead was empty of shells, and we moved quickly. I really had no destination in mind. I was simply driving to get away from this place.
Chapter 4
“Can you open some windows?” I asked.
The smell of gasoline from the cans was strong. There were eighteen cans piled in the path running down the middle of the van. It made moving around difficult, but Taylor managed to step around them as he slid windows open. The fresh air quickly swept the fumes away and gave me an idea.
“What do you guys think about a road trip?”
I had pulled the van over to the side of the empty street and walked to where my new charges were sitting very quietly.
They stared at me blankly for a moment, before Taylor asked, “What do you mean?”
“Well, I think it might be a good idea to get out of the city for a while, and it seems a shame to let this fully-stocked camper go to waste. So we could--”
“Go camping?” Christina asked quietly.
“Well, I guess, maybe, if we can find a good place, then we could go camping,” I said and smiled.
“You hear that, Taylor? We’re going camping!” The little girl could not contain her excitement. A moment later, her frown returned, and she whispered, “I wish Lawrence was going with us.” The tears started rolling down her cheeks once again.
I watched her for a moment before saying, “You know, some people believe that even when someone you know dies you keep them alive in your memories. So that means as long as we remember Lawrence, he will be with us.” I am not sure exactly how I came up with this idea, but it seemed to help Christina and Taylor.
The teenager answered back, “Well, I just know that Detective Lawrence helped me out when I needed… even though he was kind of a jerk about it.” Taylor started to smile but then looked away as if the memory was too much for him or else he felt guilty about calling Lawrence a jerk.
Christina quickly slid over on the couch and gave Taylor a hug. “My mommy used to give me a big hug whenever I felt bad,” she said between the sniffles that soon grew into full sobs.
I did not feel comfortable with interrupting the moment of grief or joining in with it, I just
waited until the crying ended and said, “I’m sorry for your mommy, Christina, and all the other people who are dead because of, uh, because of whatever is happening. But the best thing we can do is keep going, remember them and keep going. That is what they would want. right?”
Everything was quiet for a few seconds before Christina turned her tear-streaked face toward me. “Right,” she said quietly and smiled weakly.
“Right,” Taylor answered with surprising energy. “If Lawrence was here right now, he’d be yelling something about how we had to stop being a buncha crybabies and get moving.”
“Sounds awesome!” Taylor added, putting a little too much energy into his words.
I looked over at him to find that his shaky smile was crumbling. I started to say something but thought better of it and focused on the street ahead. The way was littered with empty cars. At least, I assumed they were empty. To tell the truth, I avoided looking closely inside the vehicles. Many had doors left open, stretching out toward us like claws.
Thoughts about the owners of the cars found their way into my mind before I could stop them. I saw a well-dressed young man sitting in a newer blue BMW honking his horn impatiently as traffic came to a stop. Suddenly, just as he pushed the horn for a third time, a heavy black man in a dirty white undershirt and blue jeans yanked the car door open and pulled the driver out of the car.
It is a very strange observation to make, but seeing the shells shuffle around was becoming somewhat normal. I realize how ridiculous that must sound. Somehow, corpses refused to
remain still and were instead slowly skulking up and down the streets and sidewalks. Every once in a while, a scream or some unintelligible shout would ring out, making me jump. But as I said, the repetition of these terrible sights and sounds drained the power from them.
Maybe it was the power of the human brain to make sense of the world by finding patterns and making new situations more familiar that quickly made the sights and sounds around me seem normal. The terror that had gripped me at the sight of the shells was no longer present. There were no more questions swirling through my mind about the reality of the world around me. The unbelievable had become believable, and the only thing left was for me to somehow deal with it. Adding to my new-found clarity was the realization that I was now responsible for the safety of two others.
I listened to the quiet voices and giggling of my new charges. The sound made me smile and feel hopeful. A recognition of the truly incredible adaptability of human spirit flashed through my mind, and that thought prevented me from reacting quickly to the person darting in front of the van.
The man slapped the hood. He looked at me with bloodshot eyes and screamed, “Stop this thing!” I did not notice the baseball bat until he swung it down upon the hood. “Let me the fuck in!”
I stared at the small dent left by the bat. The spattering of blood and flesh and bone covering the bat sprayed across the hood.
In the next instant, Christina screamed and I hit the accelerator. The man bounced off the van and hit the pavement. I watched in the mirror as he slowly got to his feet.
“Aren’t you gonna stop?” Taylor asked. He was now standing behind me.
Without thinking, I slowed the van.
“We have to go!” Christina yelled.
In the side mirror, I could see the man starting to limp quickly toward us. He was waving wildly. And then I saw the group of shells moving up on him from all sides.
“We have to let him in! Those things are gonna get him!” Taylor was screaming. “We have to help him!”
“No! We can’t!” Christina pulled on the boy’s arm as if to emphasize her words.
Taylor moved away from her touch and glared at her before going to sit back down.
The little girl was shocked by his reaction and stared after him.
“Christina, go sit down!”
My voice startled her, and she did not move for several seconds. Finally, she turned and went back to the couch.
I looked out to see the man had managed to get within about ten yards of the van before the shells closed in. He swung the baseball bat and knocked the shell of an older woman wearing a dark blue business suit to the ground. He pulled the bat back to swing again, but it was stuck. The man spun around to find the bat being held in both hands of a tall, black man in nothing but plaid boxer shorts. The mass of
shells closed in on him, and he was simply swallowed up within the squirming bodies.
“Taylor,” Christina said quietly. “What’s wrong?”
There was no answer.
Chapter 5
We drove through the city for what seemed like hours. The shells seemed to be just about everywhere. Fortunately, there did not appear to be communication between them, and they did not block our way by gathering in large numbers on the streets. For the most part, we moved past them before the things had time to react.
There was no sound from the behind me, and I worried about that. I considered pulling over to check on them but did not want to take the chance. Better to keep moving. Always keep moving and then nothing bad could catch you, right? I thought of the man with the baseball bat. If he had just kept moving instead of stopping in front of the van, the shells would not have caught him.
Finally, the onramp to Highway 101 North and the Golden Gate Bridge appeared before us. My excitement got the better of me and I took the turn too fast. I heard a thump as something hit the wall, and, a moment late, Christina cried, “Ow!”
“Are you guys okay back there?” I called out.
After a few seconds, she answered, “I hit my head, but I’m okay.”
I waited for Taylor’s response but heard nothing.
After the moments of silence, Christina burst out, “Taylor, aren’t you going to answer?”
“I’m fine,” he snapped. “Okay?”
“Well, you don’t sound fine,” she commented before stomping up to the front of the van and throwing herself into the passenger seat.
Watching the melodramatics, I had to struggle to keep a smile from face. “What’s the matter?”
She looked at me with an expression that was comically serious. “Taylor is being a complete grump!”
“I am not,” he said from the back. “I just think that we need to help people.”
“Taylor, I agree with you,” I answered. “We should help anyone we can.” I paused for a moment, trying to catch any sign that he was listening. “But I have to think of keeping us safe, and that guy did not look like good news to me. I’m not going to risk you and Christina by stopping to pick up some psycho with a baseball bat!” The growing frenzy of my voice made it clear that I was trying to justify my actions to myself as much as anyone else.
The young man slowly made his way up to stand just behind the passenger seat. He looked out the windshield for a moment without saying anything. Finally, he hit the back of the passenger seat and leaned over it to look down at Christina.
“So who’s a complete grump?” He asked before starting to tickle her. She squealed with delight.
The van curled around a bend in the road, and we were facing the toll booths at the entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge. I slowed to a stop as we gazed silently at the famous-but-now-deserted span.
Taylor broke the silence by saying, “My class was supposed to take a field trip next month and walk across the bridge.”
Nothing could be said which would do justice to the idea things would never be the same again. The finality to the idea that was depressing and frightening. If the world had forever changed, into what exactly had it changed? It was not a question to which I had the time to find an answer.
We simply had to keep moving and, right now, moving meant heading across the nearly deserted bridge. I say nearly deserted, because, from where we sat, a few shells could be seen moving aimlessly between the several cars sitting on the bridge. I was not really concerned about any problem getting around the scattered cars or shells that we could see. What scared the living hell out of me was the image in my head of the van coming over the rise in the bridge and heading down into a vast horde of shells. The bridge would be an inescapable trap. We would never be able to get off before the van was surrounded and engulfed by the
mass of bodies.
“Ready to go?” Taylor asked.
I attempted to push the image from my memory before I replied, “I don’t know. How about you, Christina? Are you ready to go?”
“Ready to go
!” She shouted and giggled.
“Well, let’s go then!” I responded with every bit of the enthusiasm I could muster.
I pressed the accelerator, and with that we left the city and the past behind to head off across a bridge into the unknown.
Chapter 6
The van was filled with a sense relief at leaving behind the horrors we had experienced over the last months. Unfortunately, the feeling only survived a few seconds.
As I swung the van into the open lanes leaving the city, I could not keep my eyes from moving to the right and the toll booths on the opposite side of the dividers. Numerous cars were scattered around the lanes. It looked as though a couple of drivers had recognized the danger and tried to turn, only to find themselves trapped by those in the next lane. One car, a black Jeep Cherokee, had attempted to drive right through the tollbooth but got struck on the remains of one wall. My eyes teared up at the overpowering smell of gasoline or maybe they teared up at the thought of so many people driving into a slaughter.
Through the blur of watery eyes, I saw a man and woman sitting in the black Jeep as it slowly approached the toll booth.
“Slow down before you hit somebody!” The woman yelled as she crossed her arms in exaggerated disgust. “I told you we should have left the house earlier.”
The heavyset man in the driver’s seat turned slowly toward her and sighed. “I know that’s what you said, but then you spent twenty-five minutes putting on your makeup.”
“Don’t you dare try to blame this whole thing--” The woman’s words were cut off as a tall man burst through the window of the car door and yanked her out the same way. Her screams were cut off abruptly.
“Linda!” The man screamed as he turned toward the place she had been just seconds before. His hands frantically tried to open the fastener of his seat belt. In his frustration, the driver’s foot came off the brake pedal, and the car began to creep forward. He noticed the movement and stomped down on the brake. However, in his frenzy, the man’s foot found the gas pedal. As a result, the Jeep lunged forward into the toll booth and nearly out the other side. The driver continued revving the engine even after the car was unable to move. There was nothing changed for a few moments, then the engine died and the driver forced the car door open. He climbed out and stood unsteadily next to the car. In the next instant, he was surrounded by bodies that closed in until he disappeared beneath them.
Surviving Amid the Zombies Page 4