by T. L. Walker
"So are you going to tell me what you mean by 'dealt with the neighbors'? Were they alive or...dead?"
"A little bit of both," was my brother's vague response. I was about to retort, to insist that he explain, when Luke spoke up.
"They were alive. At first. Your mother wanted to let them inside, and while Joe and I were trying to convince her otherwise...they turned violent. We ended up having to...well. Defend ourselves. We didn't have time to move the bodies before it was dark..."
"And they...came back, didn't they?"
Luke nodded.
"Does anyone have any idea why? Or at least know how all of this began? I missed the boat on any actual news, and it's kind of driving me crazy."
"I don't think anyone knows for sure. Before communications went dark, I heard that the origin was in Asia...some reports said India while others said China, and then the North Koreans put out that they’d done it on purpose, so who the hell really knows. Apparently wherever it started, they tried to keep it a big secret...and were able to do so for weeks."
"Until someone brought it here to the States," I stated.
Joey nodded. "It escalated so fast that most people didn't even know anything was happening until it was too late. Luke and I had to sneak out of Charleston in the middle of the night; they'd put the city on lockdown and were trying to keep people from coming or going. If I hadn't run into Luke on the street right after things started going to hell, I'd probably still be there...but he remembered me saying that my family had a farm upstate, and convinced me that it would be best to leave the city as soon as possible. We barely made it out alive, but don't repeat that around mom, okay? She thinks we had it easy, making our way up here."
"No wonder she's acting like this isn't a big deal, then! Joey, mom doesn't need to be sheltered from the world. She's probably stronger than both of us. I mean...even after what happened with the neighbors, you still think you can protect her? There is no 'keep it secret, keep it safe' with this, Joey. You're not Frodo."
"Who?"
You've got to be kidding me. "Tolkien? Lord of the Rings?" When he shook his head, I scoffed, "Never mind." Again I felt Luke's gaze on me, and this time I actually turned to face him – but the bemused look on his face only frustrated me more. "Come on, Mike. Let's go find a place for you to sleep."
Mike, who had been following us around in silence for quite some time now, glanced at the light filtering through the curtains of a second-floor window that Joey and Luke had yet to board up. "Isn't it a little early to go to bed?"
"Oh, you don't have to go to bed. I just think we ought to find you a room before it gets too dark. Of course...doesn't look like there will be much else to do around here, so sleep may be the best option you have."
"Mom's still got some of our old games and books, and we have some battery-powered lamps and candles...but again, we're trying to conserve," Joey explained.
"Well, after tomorrow, hopefully conserving won't be as much of a concern." Luke winked at me as he said this – actually winked at me. I rolled my eyes in disgust.
"Holden! Here, boy!" I called out. I heard his toenails clicking on the hardwood floors and finally he came trotting up the stairs into the loft area. "I'm going to get Mike settled and then go to bed," I announced, looking pointedly at Joey. Before he – or anyone else, for that matter – could respond, I turned and headed down the dark hallway that led away from the loft. "This is my room." I pointed to the first door on the left. "And assuming Joey is sleeping in his old room, and that his friend hasn't taken up residence upstairs, there's a pull-out couch in here." I strode to the door at the very end of the hall and swung it open. The windows in this room had been boarded up and left that way, but at least it was clear that no one else was utilizing it.
There was a jar candle sitting on the end table next to the couch, a lighter beside it. I lit the candle and helped Mike pull out the sofa bed, gathered sheets and blankets and pillows from the closet, and make it up for the night. "You'll be okay in here?" I asked.
"Yeah. Better than where I've been sleeping. Thanks again..." He paused, clearly unsure about what to call me.
"Charlie's okay." I smiled. I wanted to ask him what he meant, where he'd been sleeping. I wanted to ask him about his family. But as curious as I'd always been, it was hard for me to cross certain lines.
Most lines, really.
"All right. Thanks, Charlie."
"Let me know if you need anything. I'll be up early and I'll come get you. I'm not sure you should be wandering the house by yourself...my mom is acting more than a little bit strange, and Joey and his friend seem kind of jumpy."
"Can't really blame them."
"No. I suppose not. Goodnight, Mike."
"'Night."
I left him in the back room and let myself into my childhood bedroom, Holden close on my heels. My windows were boarded up as well, and another candle and lighter were on the corner of my dresser. It was almost as if my mother had known I would come home...or at least, she’d hoped that I would. I opened a drawer and dug out a ratty pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, leftover from my college years when I would visit for a few days here and there, never arriving until I had to and often leaving before I was supposed to.
Once I'd changed, I carried the candle over to the window and pulled the plywood down. It was dark already, though it couldn't be much past seven in the evening, and I couldn't see anything except my reflection in the window, lit eerily by the flickering flame.
Suddenly Holden whimpered. When I turned to look at him, he was backing away from me and from the window, his hair standing on end. His whimper turned to a growl, and he gave me what could only be described as a pleading look. "What's wrong, boy?" I asked.
And then I heard it. The sound was so quiet that, had Holden not warned me, I probably would have missed it. I leaned forward and pressed my ear to the window. It had to be them...but the only way I could be hearing their sounds was if –
They're close. Too close. I stepped back from the window so quickly that I almost stumbled over Holden. He scurried out from under my feet as I set the candle down and put the plywood back up in the window, feeling my heart thudding in my chest. For a moment I thought about going to find my mother or Joey, about asking them if they could hear it too, but instead I moved toward the bed, crawled between the sheets, and invited Holden to lay down next to me. Once he was settled I blew out the candle and buried my head under the pillows. It was silly to think that I could still hear them; perhaps just knowing that they were out there made me feel like I could. Regardless, I lay there wide awake, feeling Holden trembling next to me, wondering if I would ever feel safe – or sane – again.
Obviously I should have known that safety – true safety – was impossible in this world. So how am I still alive? How am I still giving sound advice? Well, for now I'll just say that I got used to it. I've hinted before that I actually learned to thrive on the constant adrenaline caused by this crazy situation. I'm sure you don't quite understand how that happened – not yet. I know that I've been quite the whiny brat so far.
But the thing about the zombie apocalypse is that people change and evolve a hell of a lot faster than they would have otherwise.
Lay low at night. Like, really low.
Chapter 3
Exploration
When I dragged myself out of bed early the next morning, I wanted nothing more than a giant cup of coffee. I knew better than to think I would get such a thing, so I scoured the kitchen and settled for an apple before making my way back upstairs to wake Mike up.
I opened the door to the back room to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall. "You okay, kid?"
"Please don't call me that," he mumbled.
"Okay."
"Probably shouldn't use that word, either. 'Okay'. What a joke."
I wondered if he'd heard them too, last night, but I didn't have the heart to ask. "Hey, chin up," I said, forcing fake cheer into my voice. "You get to stay
here with my mom while Joey and Luke and I run to the gas station. I'll even leave Holden with you guys. My mom's not such bad company...I mean, at least she's alive."
"You're funny." Mike's deadpan tone belied his words.
"I'm a regular stand-up comedian. Now come downstairs. I've got plans to discuss with the guys, and I'm sure my mom will find something for you to help her with, if you're so inclined."
He merely shrugged in response, but didn't hesitate in following me down to the kitchen. My mother was already there, and within a few minutes Joey and Luke joined us.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Mom asked. She looked quite a bit more tired today than she had yesterday; I clenched my jaw shut to stop myself from pointing this out. I also glared at Joey, hoping he would take the hint and not speak the truth. It was clear that he didn't want to go to the gas station, but our mother didn't need to know that.
"We're going, mom. Do you want to keep cooking outside on that grill?" I leaned closer and whispered, "I heard them last night. I can tell you did too. If we're going to stay here, we need fuel, food, water. We're only going to the gas station today, but eventually we'll have to go farther. You might as well come to grips with that."
When I stepped away from her I realized that everyone was watching me. "What? Y'all know I'm right. We can't stay holed up here until we run out of the things that we need to live...and I don't see this getting better anytime soon."
"There's my glass-half-empty sister for ya," Joey mumbled to Luke.
I glared at my brother. "I heard that. So...what's the plan?"
"Handguns," Luke said. "But we won't use them unless we have to, so choose at least one other weapon as well. If you really want to kill these things, you need to get them - "
"In the brain, yeah, I got it."
"Right. Funny how fiction got that correct."
I shrugged. "Or maybe once upon a time it wasn't fiction."
"Touché. That said, we also figured out that if you get them in the spine – the neck is best, but a well-placed shot or hit or chop to the back can do it too – they lose mobility just like you or I would. The teeth still work, but if you're not stupid about it, well..."
"Understood. What do we have for weapons? I brought some kitchen knives, but please tell me you guys have something better lying around here."
"You know how Dad was. Here." Joey gestured for us to follow him into the dining room, where an array of tools and weapons was spread out across the long table. Hunting knives, hatchets, a baseball bat, some golf clubs, a crowbar, and even a sledgehammer.
"Do you guys have a preference?"
"Ladies first," Luke insisted.
After debating for a minute or two, I finally chose one of the larger hunting knives and the baseball bat. It had been a long time, but I'd played softball in my younger years and my father had always praised my strong swing. Let's just hope he wasn't exaggerating. Joey took the hatchet and a golf club, while Luke settled for another hatchet and the sledgehammer. He then gave each of us a handgun before tucking one into his own belt.
"We'll stay close together. This place could be overrun, but they seem to be slower, less active during the day. Maybe the sunlight annoys them, I don't know. We've got some duffel bags and backpacks waiting by the door with the gas cans, but we can't be stupid about this. Don't pick up any more than you can carry – we need to be in and out of there as quickly as possible."
Part of me wanted to disagree with or rebel against him; I barely knew this guy, after all. But everything that he said sounded logical, well thought out. "You've been planning this for a while, haven't you?"
Luke grinned. "Guess I just needed you here to convince your brother that it was necessary."
"Oh, I'm sure if you'd batted your pretty eyes at him enough, he would have capitulated eventually." As I was saying these words, I thought they sounded funny, but the hurt look that passed over Joey's face made me realize that perhaps they weren’t. "Sorry," I mumbled to him.
He eyed me for a moment, then turned away. "Let's just get going. The sooner we put this little jaunt behind us, the better." The three of us loaded up the big farm truck with some gas cans and empty bags, then climbed in ourselves. "Stay inside," Joey ordered Mom and Mike. "And don't worry about us being gone for a while. We have no idea how long this will take." I took note of the fact that our mother didn't acknowledge or agree to Joey's warnings, but before I could say anything he had backed out of the garage, turned the truck around, and sped up the driveway. He practically screeched to a halt at the gate; Luke got out to open it and Joey almost forgot to stop and let him back in once Luke closed the gate behind us. As we pulled out onto the road, I bit my lip and stared out the window to keep myself from complaining about Joey’s driving. I figured that I’d already upset him enough for one morning.
Instead I told them, "Put on some music." Luke looked at Joey, who shrugged.
"There are probably some old CD's in the glove box."
Luke opened it up and shuffled through the handful of discs before finally choosing one. It was a burned CD, no label on it at all, but everything else was clearly country or gospel, and I couldn't help but appreciate the fact that he grimaced at every single one of them. He slid the chosen CD into the player, and when the first song came on I almost laughed out loud. If anything will cheer Joey up – at least a little bit – this will, I told myself as I began to sing along.
"As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I take a look at my life and realize there's nothin' left...'cause I've been blastin' and laughin' so long that even my momma thinks that my mind is gone..."
Both guys turned to look at me, eyebrows raised, but when I continued to rap along with Coolio it took just a few moments for their stolid demeanors to crack. And then they were singing along as well, and we were all laughing, though far too soon the song and the drive were over and we were once again facing our ridiculous new reality.
We were forced to pull over a good quarter mile from the intersection where the gas station was located. We let a few minutes pass to make sure all was quiet before we gathered up our weapons, bags, and gas cans and climbed out of the truck. "I'd lock it if I were you," I reminded my brother as he started to walk away without doing so.
At least now when he rolled his eyes at me for ordering him around, it took just a few murmured lines of "Gangsta's Paradise" to put a smile back on his face. "Death ain't nothing but a heartbeat away...I'm living life, do or die, what can I say? I'm 23 now, but will I live to see 24? The way things are going I don't know..."
"All right, all right, shhh," Luke cautioned. I couldn't help but turn and stick my tongue out at him, which earned me yet another grin.
"I'd rather die smiling, thanks," I whispered, but after that I obeyed his warning to be quiet.
The closer we got to the gas station, the more difficult it became to pick our way between the haphazardly parked cars and the suitcases, boxes, and bags that littered the road. Most had been ripped open, their contents strewn far and wide, empty bottles and cans and every other type of trash one could think of littered across the ground.
"Maybe this won't be so bad," Joey murmured. "All this stuff everywhere...I think those...those things... are a bit too clumsy to figure out how to navigate through it. And there doesn't seem to be anything alive for them to eat, anyway."
"Don't be so sure that we're in the clear. Not yet. I heard them last night...a lot of them. And they couldn't have been all that far away." I shuddered when I remembered the sounds; it was almost as if I could still hear them...
"Oh. Shit."
We were in the parking lot now and couldn't miss the cause for Luke's exclamation.
Someone had taken it upon themselves to lock what appeared to be dozens of people inside the station convenience store. Whether they'd been alive or dead at the time, I couldn't tell, but they were definitely undead now – and despite how quiet we'd been in our approach, they had to have known we were coming. The
y were groaning, moaning, snapping their jaws, scratching at the windows and doors, piled up against the glass as they strained to escape and attack us. Not even the hum of the station’s backup generators could cover the God-awful noises the damn things were making, and I felt my heart hammering in my chest as I stumbled back a step.
"So much for getting anything useful from the store." I didn't even bother to hide my disappointment.
"We'll damn well get at least one of the things that we came here for," Joey snapped, rushing over to the gas pumps. For a moment his initiative took my by surprise, considering how he'd been so against this trip in the first place – but only for a moment. Soon enough both Luke and I followed suit, taking up our places at the pumps on either side of him and hurrying to fill up our own cans. I couldn't help but glance up at the store every few seconds, but we were able to fill and recap the cans without any sort of incident.
"Maybe we should pick through some of this junk on our way back to the truck," Luke suggested. “If we can't get anything from inside, trying to salvage some stuff out here isn't a bad idea."
"Okay," Joey said warily. "But only directly on the way back. These things are already heavy enough." He hoisted his gas tank up a little, and headed toward the closest pile of belongings. I split off to his left and Luke to his right, and we slowly made our way back to the truck, stopping every few feet to poke through the piles of things left behind. Most of it was useless, though once in a while one of us would make a soft noise of excitement when we found a package of granola bars, a can of fruit or vegetables, a handful of MREs, even a few half-empty boxes of ammunition. I collected some clothing, too, because Mike didn’t have anything other than what he was wearing, and I certainly hadn't packed much for myself, either.
Not surprisingly, Luke heard the noise first. He stopped, stood straight, held up a hand, and slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder. But by then, I'd heard it too – the sound of glass breaking.
What made me turn to look? Did I have some sort of death wish, that I didn't just grab what I could carry and run for the safety of the truck? Or was it just sheer curiosity?