by TW Brown
We walked in silence for a while. As we approached a zombie or zombies that we could not avoid, one or both of us would move to take it down. At last, we came to an exit that gave me an idea. The Johnson Creek Boulevard exit would drop us pretty close to 82nd Avenue. There were shops and stores all along that strip. While the cars on the highway were problematic and risky, I was willing to bet we could find one in a parking lot.
I explained my idea to Carl. He nodded and we waited for Betty and the two kids to catch up.
“Okay, so we are going to go down there and find ourselves a car,” I explained.
“And steal it?” Michael said with an odd lack of emotion. I glanced over at him and he was just staring at his shoes.
I noticed that Betty was looking at me, then the boy, then raising her eyes like she thought I should know something. Well, she would need to be more specific. I did not have any idea what she was trying to signal to me with her eyes.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But I don’t think the owners will be missing it,” I said as casually as possible.
“Because they got ate up.”
I did a double-take. Michael still continued to just stare at the ground. I looked at Betty and she was almost leaning forward as if she thought I was about to answer the million-dollar question. I hated to disappoint her, but I had no clue.
“This just keeps getting better,” Carl leaned over and whispered to me.
I shot him a questioning look, but he just turned and started walking towards Johnson Creek Boulevard. I was confused and frustrated.
After a moment, I jogged after him. Chewie was not all that happy with my jogging and made an agitated huff to let me know that this sort of thing would only be tolerated on a limited basis. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Look, I hate to say it, but I’m not gonna hang with this group. I want to survive, and if you want to do the same, then I suggest you just cut the cord and let them drift away. They don’t stand a chance. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but Betty can barely keep up. The reason she is walking with the kids is because they move closer to her speed and don’t care if she stops to catch her breath every few hundred yards. The only reason they are still even with us is because you and I have been clearing the path.”
I turned back to Betty and the two kids. Selina was staring at me, one eyebrow raised like she was waiting for me to say something. Michael continued to stare at the ground. Betty stood between them with a look on her face that I could not even begin to read.
“So you’re just gonna bail?” I asked incredulously.
“No, I am gonna survive. And if you want to have even the slightest chance of seeing the sun come up tomorrow, I suggest that you do the same.”
With that, he turned around again and started walking. I stood there, unsure of what to do. One voice in my head told me to pull my gun and blow the creep away. The only thing stopping me was that I wasn’t a murderer. There was seriously no way that I could just shoot a person. Not a living one anyway.
I stalked back the few yards to Betty and the kids. As I did, I could see that our zombie mob was still coming. They were like the tide. And like the tide, it could come and sweep you away if you did not pay attention.
“So, what’s the deal?” I asked as I motioned with my head that they needed to get moving.
Betty glanced at Michael and then back to me. She mouthed something, but I was not proficient at reading lips.
“Just spit it out,” I snapped. I didn’t have the patience.
“Autism,” she hissed in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
It took me a moment, but then I realized that she was telling me that Michael was autistic. I knew next to nothing about autism. Okay, that wasn’t true…I didn’t know a damn thing about autism.
“We can worry about that later,” I said. “right now, we need to get off the interstate and check out the possibility of grabbing a car. Walking to McIver is just asking for us to end up dead. Also…I don’t know about you, but I am thirsty, hungry, and I need to use the bathroom.”
Michael made a snort and giggled, covering his mouth with his hands and then just froze. All my earlier thoughts came back to me and I glanced over my shoulder to see Carl vanishing around the bend as he continued his way along the Johnson Creek exit.
“Are you gonna leave us?”
I snapped back around to see Betty with tears in her eyes. Selina apparently picked up on the emotion quickly and her eyes were close tearing up. Michael just continued to stand there with his hands over his mouth, his gaze fixed firmly on his feet.
“I know I’m slow…and I also know I’m not an easy person to get along with. I’m set in my ways and not always accepting of others,” Betty managed while still sounding somewhat out of breath. “But I can’t do this alone. I’m afraid, and I honestly have no idea what to do. I don’t know why we are going to McIver, and I don’t know why we are talking about stealing a car. Honest to God, I could just sit here and wait for those things…” she shot a look back at the approaching herd of walking dead, “…and just let them have me. But I’ve heard those screams—”
Without warning, Michael shrieked. It wasn’t exactly like the one you heard from those who were being ripped apart, but it was a damn good impersonation.
I took a deep breath. It was in that instant that I knew there was no way I could desert these three and leave them to almost certain death.
“I’m not going to leave you.”
8
Out of the frying pan…
After it was made very clear to me that neither of the children would swap holding Betty’s hand for mine, I took position a few yards ahead and led my unlikely band of potential survivors along the Johnson Creek Boulevard exit ramp. We finally reached the end, and I felt my heart jump into my throat. Echoing my feelings, Chewie let loose with a soft rumble that was part growl and part whine.
If Carl had gone into the chaos I saw laid out before me, then he was either crazy, dead, or a freaking beast. The undead were wandering the streets in singles and groups everywhere. The orange sign of the big-box hardware and home repair chain was only a hundred or so yards away, but it may as well be on the moon.
I knew that there had to be at least a few vehicles in that parking lot. And it would be likely that one of them would be an older model. That was crucial if we were going to be able to hotwire it. New cars had too much going on, and I didn’t feel confident that I would be able to get one of them started. I just knew an older model pickup would be sitting in that lot.
“We can’t go back the way we came,” Betty cried.
I turned to see the leading edge of our zombie tail coming down the exit. Our only choice was to hurry across this intersection and make our way back up onto the interstate.
Or…
I looked to the left and up the gradual slope. We could get across that overpass that crossed over Interstate 205, and if my memory served me correctly, there were a few small strip mall locations as well as the fringes of a residential area over there. It wasn’t the packed in scene like the Portland neighborhood we’d left behind. While certainly not rural, the neighborhoods out here were simply not anywhere near the levels of congestion.
It was a coin toss, but my dry throat and the rumble in my belly won out. I turned left.
“This way,” I insisted when Betty did not immediately follow.
“Why wouldn’t we just try our luck back up on 205?” she asked. “We’ve been doing fine.”
“Yeah, but without some food and water soon, we may start running into trouble.”
I glanced down at my big Newfie and was so proud of how well she’d endured thus far. Her mouth was a foaming mess, and I knew right then that my mind would not be changed. She absolutely needed water. And then there was the fact that this day was passing and I had no desire to be out in the open when darkness fell. Sure, it was still hours away, but I had no idea how long it would take us to walk the entire distance
to McIver if that ended up being our fate.
“I think we need to get off the street for a day or two. There is too much going on right now.” As the words came out of my mouth, I became convinced that was the right choice.
Betty nodded. “Yes, perhaps that is for the better.” I saw a shadow cross behind her eyes.
“I’m not gonna bail.”
She actually started and I was pretty sure I’d just hit the nail on the head with what had been passing through her mind. I couldn’t blame her. The past several hours had been madness, and it wasn’t like there was any sort of bond between me and her…or those kids for that matter.
“You’re gonna steal a house now,” Michael said those words with the same emotionless tone he’d used when stating that I had planned on stealing a car.
“We are just borrowing it,” I tried to assure him.
“I don’t think the owners will come back. Probably eaten,” he said with the flat calm that apparently always permeated his voice.
“Let’s go.” I did not want to keep standing here while that herd coming off the interstate drew ever nearer. Also, we’d been lucky up to this point, but I was not willing to continue risking that stroke of luck as all the zombies off to our right continued to do whatever it is that zombies did when they weren’t eating people or following them.
We started up the road, and when I reached the overpass and could look back in the direction we’d come, I felt a queasy feeling in my stomach. I knew that there had been fires burning, and I’d obviously been aware that a growing number of the undead were following us. I was not prepared for the at least mile long serpent made up of what must be hundreds of zombies that were coming along and picking up stragglers as they went. It was a cartoon snowball, growing to something indescribable.
Then there were the fires.
The dark fingers pointing skyward in the form of the pillars of smoke rising into the late morning/early afternoon sky were almost as numerous. In some cases, the plumes were so massive that they had to encompass entire blocks. I thought back to my house and the encroaching fire that had chased me from it.
“This is so bad,” I said needlessly. “So much worse than any movie.”
“What movie?” Betty asked, her breathing already coming in labored gasps as we resumed our trek up the long and gradual slope.
I glanced over at her and realized that maybe not everybody had a glimmer of an idea as to what might be going on. While I had certainly seen the classic Romero flicks, I never considered that I was perhaps the minority. Horror was sorta like comedy when it came to the general public. It was segmented at best and some folks snubbed it out of hand just because they would not ever “lower themselves” to such things. Betty was probably one of those types.
As we made our way towards a parking lot where I saw a sign that read “Biscuits Café” in bright red letters, I gave her the briefest of rundowns regarding the zombie genre. I told her about movie zombies (or ghouls is what would have been the name we’d be calling these things if the original label given to the undead by George Romero had stuck). I told her about the way the infection was spread.
“That is ridiculous,” she managed to wheeze as we stopped at the door to the small café.
I looked inside and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that the place looked untouched. Then I looked back at Betty and the kids. “You got a better explanation for what is going on? That doctor for the CDC changed her tune. She saw it for herself…before she got bitten.” I paused and recalled her broadcast. “Only, this thing with the eyes is different. Those dark squiggles seem to be an indication that a person is infected. I’m no doctor, but I know what I’ve seen.”
“Blackshot,” Michael whispered loudly.
I considered his statement and thought that was as good of way to describe the symptom as any. I returned my attention to the door. I was not versed in picking locks. It always looked easy on television or at the movies, but I had no clue. I’d also noticed that this small parking lot was empty of cars, which was a bit of a bummer.
Looking at the other businesses that made up this little complex, I spotted a dentist, an optician, and an insurance agent’s office. Food and beverage were the priority. We needed to get inside this café. I could see a cooler on one wall that was filled with soda, sports drinks, and, most importantly, water.
“Everybody keep a lookout.” I scanned the area and could not believe that there was not one single rock or brick lying about.
From where we were located, I could look back towards the interstate. I was relieved to see that the horde had not turned our direction. The only problem would be the moment I found something to break into this place. Noise was travelling much farther these days with the relative quiet.
I jogged the length of the building and was about to round the corner in my search when I heard Betty call out from behind me. “Evan?”
I turned to see her standing there with the door open. The kids had already ducked inside. Feeling like a total idiot, I rushed back.
“Michael just walked over and pulled,” she said with a sheepish grin that let me know she felt just as silly for not even bothering to try to open the door either.
I gestured for her to enter and that I would follow. As soon as I stepped inside, my hand went for my axe. The very identifiable smell of the undead hit me right in the nose. Kids being kids, they had not even bothered to pause and rushed for the cooler, jerking the door open and grabbing sodas.
I hurried past and climbed up on the counter. There was nothing on the floor, but there was a door to the back—the type with the small, square window that was in place to hopefully prevent collisions as people came and went. I saw a head move past in a slow manner that told me what I needed to know.
“Everybody stay back from the counter,” I hissed. Scanning the room, I saw an area that was at least partially out of sight of possible passersby out front—and well out of sight of the little door window. “Over there.” I pointed.
Betty, to her credit, grabbed the kids and ushered them to where I indicated. Chewie padded along, apparently content. Of course, it could have had something to do with the bottle of water that Selina had opened and offered.
Once they were out of the way, I lowered down to the floor and crept to the door. Peering inside, I saw the kitchen side of this little café. My heart just about did a flip when I spied all the shelves loaded with canned goods. Also, there were at least two walk-ins. I was betting one to be a freezer and the other to be for produce and the like. This was the zombie apocalypse equivalent of hitting the lottery. All I needed to do was take down the one…damn, make that three zombies in the back.
“Okay, here is the deal,” I said in a voice that was barely a whisper when I returned to where Betty, Chewie, and the kids waited, “I have to go in there and take down the zombies.”
“Now you are going to murder,” Michael said in a voice that was not even close to a whisper. It was loud enough that it made me jump.
“That’s not—” I started, but the thud of something bumping into that door to the back of the restaurant shut me up and made me spin around just in time to see one of the zombies stagger out.
It could have been funny if I’d been a spectator rather than actively involved in the situation. This one zombie was a girl in her teens by my best guess. She was wearing a blue pullover shirt with the restaurant’s logo on the left breast. Her neck was a mangled mess, ripped out badly enough that her head sat tilted to the right on her shoulders like she was examining something. She had frizzy dark hair and what had probably once been freckles were now just ugly dark blotches all over her skin.
This zombie almost seemed to take her place behind the counter like she was waiting to take an order. Her body had to turn for her to actually put us in her field of vision…provided zombies really could see. Her mouth opened and the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood up when that awful baby cry sound came from her.
Unable to
help myself, I turned to Betty. “See? Not all of them make those low groans, some of them make that noise, so be careful. You may think you are rushing in to help, when really, you are going to your possible doom.” I didn’t mean for it to sound so ominous to the point of being cliché, but it was the truth.
“Stay put,” I said as calmly as possible, and then I approached the female zombie.
As I neared the counter, it fixed its rheumy gaze on me. The body jerked and twitched a little as it re-oriented on me and then lunged, its arms swiping at air. Since I was still a good several feet away, all it managed to do was topple forward against the counter. This sudden movement caused its head to loll forward and now it sat awkwardly with the chin almost nestled between the girl’s breasts.
Before it could recover, I moved forward and brought my axe down on the crown of its head. There was a now-familiar jarring sting that shot up my arms as the hard skull cracked under the force of my blow. A second later, there was an ear-piercing scream from behind me. I spun, not sure what I would find or have to face.
Michael had pulled away from Betty and was pointing at me, screaming at the top of his lungs. Betty had instinctively recoiled and moved away, shielding Selina from him.
“Michael,” I hissed, hurrying over to the child.
Like a switch was thrown, he stopped. His hands folded in front of him and his gaze returned to the floor. “You murdered.”
That single statement was not spoken with any emotion. He was reporting what, at least to him, was a fact. Being totally ignorant, I could only assume that this behavior had something to do with his autism.
Chewie had risen from where she’d sat beside Selina making a mess as she did her best to drink as much of the water being poured out as possible. The dog seemed to sense something and went to stand beside the boy. As soon as she did, Michael plopped down on the floor and began to scratch her chest and pet her down the length of one leg.
There was no chance for me to try and make sense of anything as the door banged open and the other two zombies appeared. I was now pretty sure which of these had been the root of the problem here. There was a boy with a nasty rip on one arm about the same age as the girl I’d just ended and a woman I guessed to be in her thirties. Her mouth was a dark smear of dried blood.