by TW Brown
“I’m going to slip out for a bit,” I whispered.
“Out?” Carl opened his eyes and regarded me with a look of curiosity. “You think anybody can just go out anymore?” The word ‘out’ was heavily emphasized with a sincere dubiousness. It was obvious that he thought I was not playing with a full deck. “Them folks in that housing development are all probably getting up right about now. Least, any of ‘em that’s got enough left to come back.”
“I need to find a vet and get Chewie cleaned up properly,” I insisted.
“And what do you think is gonna happen when you don’t come back?” I noticed that he did not say ‘if’. “Who’s gonna take care of that dog? These kids? You think I’m gonna do it? And if I up and leave, Betty and these youngsters are as good as dead.”
“Yeah, but you aren’t that guy. Remember, we talked about that just a bit ago.”
“That’s because I have you on hand to take the brunt and the burden for the most part. I’m just here as backup.”
My eyes drifted down to the boy sleeping under his hammock. Carl shot the boy a look over his shoulder and then returned his gaze to me, a hint of red creeping into his cheeks.
“I can’t control where the boy sleeps.” His protest was sheepish enough that he and I both knew right then that he was full of it.
“Look, that dog probably means more to me than any single one of you people,” I said evenly. It was time that I made a few things clear. “If I was on the roof and could only drag one of you up or my Chewie, you’d all be screwed. And it wouldn’t even be close.”
Carl seemed to consider my words for a moment, then nodded. “Fair enough. Always good to know where a person stands. So, you say you’re going out for supplies at a vet. You know what to grab? You know what sorts of things are to help fight off infection? Bigger question, you even know where a vet is from here?”
“I figured that I could just grab one of the Harley’s from the garage.”
“Ever ride a Harley?”
“No.” I added hastily, “But I have ridden a bike, so I don’t imagine there is that much difference in the operation.”
“You ever heard a Harley?”
I opened my mouth and then closed it just as quick. I knew without him saying just what the flaw in my plan would be. I would be ringing a dinner bell for the undead that would be heard for miles in this new, relatively silent world. For as smart as I thought I was, that topped the list of things that idiots would do in the zombie apocalypse.
“You’re gonna have to go on foot. But before you do, I suggest you figure out where the hell you’re going.”
I stood there like an idiot for several seconds. How would I find a vet nearby? And just wandering around was asking for trouble.
“There is a clinic just down the hill in the direction you came from,” Carl finally offered. “Might not be such a bad idea to hit it now. It probably ain’t high on the looters’ lists. We should be able to slip in, grab some useful supplies and be back here within a few hours.”
“We?” I arched an eyebrow.
“You don’t think to go out there alone do ya?” Carl challenged.
“And who is going to stay here and watch over the others?” I’d had my mind made up that I was running this mission solo. I’d fully convinced myself that I would be faster if I was alone.
“The others are not entirely helpless,” a voice came in a loud whisper from the top of the stairs. I looked up to see Betty coming down. Her lips were pursed and she was obviously agitated. What was new?
“I may not be able to do much, but I am certainly not an invalid. I will get up to speed and do what needs to be done. Obviously this is something that I don’t understand, but that does not mean I can’t be helpful.” The woman reached the bottom of the stairs and fixed both Carl and me with her beady eyes, her chin thrust out in challenge.
“You think you can hold this place down, keep it looking like nobody is here, but be ready to fight off a living person if they come through our gate?” Carl stepped up to Betty. “There ain’t no 9-1-1 if somebody comes trying to kill you. And if you don’t think that is a possibility, then you weren’t listening to what was going on just up the hill.”
I saw Betty’s face pale. She’d obviously heard.
“Look, I can’t tell you that I would be able to kill another human being—” she started, but Carl cut her off.
“Then you aren’t ready.”
“Wait a minute.” I felt the need to interject here. “Just because she isn’t Gung Ho to start killing the living—” Now it was my turn to be cut off.
“You better start paying attention to what is going on around you. We got stranded on the interstate because somebody probably just wanted what we had. They shot at us. Then they more than likely took out that vehicle we saw heading back the way we’d come from. And you think those folks in that fancy little pre-fab neighborhood wish maybe they would’ve been quicker on the trigger when whoever it is that showed up and did whatever was causing all them screams we heard before the zombies came?”
I didn’t think Betty could grow any paler. I’d been wrong. She swallowed hard and twice tried to speak before the words actually made their way out of her mouth.
“You don’t think I know that bad things are happening? Well I do. But I also refuse to believe that we are the last decent human beings alive,” she finally managed to spit out.
“Yes, and you are probably right, but I would say that the burden of proof is going to have to be on a stranger. I won’t allow anybody near these little ones until I feel I can be in the same room as they are and close my eyes.” Carl moved closer to his hammock as he spoke.
He’d just revealed more about his true nature in those few words and that single action than I think he realized at the moment. I also knew without a doubt that Betty and the kids would be safe with him if something happened to me. Unfortunately, I was not as confident when it came to my dog. That made my decision easy.
“You aren’t coming.” The statement hung in the air for a moment, then dropped hard on the room. Carl whipped around to me, but I held up a hand. “You just made the case for why you need to stay. Betty may be ready for a lot, but if she had to actually kill another living, breathing human being, I doubt she could do it. You need to stay here and watch over her and the kids.”
“You can’t think to go out there without backup,” Carl argued.
“I’ll bring Chewie.”
“The dog?” He started to laugh, apparently thinking that I was joking. When I continued to stare at him without flinching, he sobered up in a hurry.
“She will let me know if trouble is close, and if something happens to me, then she won’t be a burden to you.”
“Evan, I agree with Carl here. I don’t think that is a good idea.” Betty stepped up and joined in on the debate.
“And you think you are gonna go with me? How long will you last if I have to make a run for it?” As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I wished I could get them back. She was just expressing concern. I’d returned that display by taking a shot at her. “I’m sorry, Betty,” I apologized, and I meant it. We hadn’t started off on good terms, but, like it or not, we were in this together.
“No need to apologize,” Betty said softly, the hurt coming through clearly in her voice. “I know what kind of shape I’m in. And no, I doubt that I would be a good candidate for you to bring along. I just happen to agree with Carl that it is not a good idea for you to go out there alone. I’m sure your dog is wonderful, but she is no substitute for another person watching out for you.”
“We can run this conversation around and around until we are blue in the face…” I don’t know why, but that single phrase suddenly struck me as funny and I started to chuckle. Carl soon joined in, and then, at last, Betty. Pretty soon, all three of us were laughing like idiots.
“Shut up, I’m asleeping!” a small voice groaned from under Carl’s hammock.
We all clamped dow
n suddenly but then that made us start laughing even harder. We managed to make our way into the gigantic living room, each of us with our hands over our mouths which only reduced our laughter to explosive bursts of air accompanied by the occasional snort. Once we were able to regain our composure, I looked at the pair with as much sobriety as I could manage though my tears and flushed face.
“I will be as careful as possible. Perhaps if I take a car from here and then park it a few blocks away when I come back with all the goods. Then we can slip out and bring in whatever I find bit by bit without me actually driving back to the gate.”
“And you would be leaving whatever you find in this car where just anybody could walk by and take what they want?” Betty said.
“I think it will be safe enough until we can go out there and grab whatever I manage to scrounge up.”
“Cars bring zombies and people…this has to be on foot. So maybe we should make a bit of a priority list,” Carl offered.
The three of us sat down and came up with a bunch of necessities. Once we had our list, we prioritized it and that meant that it was too dark by the time we had it all finalized. At some point, the kids had both woke up and come to see what we were doing. I saw the relief on Selina’s face very clearly when she discovered that the adults were still present and had not abandoned them.
“You get some sleep,” Carl insisted. “If you are making this run, then you need to be at the top of your game. Betty and I will hold things down.”
He made a good point. I went upstairs and, after laying out everything that I would be bringing with me tomorrow when I left at the butt crack of dawn, I stripped down and crawled into bed. I knew that I was exhausted. Chewie climbed up on the bed with me and flopped down. Making herself comfortable without showing the slightest concern that she almost shoved me out of bed. That single moment actually felt normal and I fell asleep with my hands knotted up in her fur as she commenced snoring almost immediately.
***
The rain had passed through and washed some of the stench out of the air. I moved through the knee-high grass slowly and carefully. There was a blessing and a curse to having this undeveloped plot in between our potential stronghold and this neighborhood. The good was that it gave us a natural and open clearing that would make approaching us without being seen next to impossible. The bad was why I was now being so careful; it was largely due to the creepy-crawly that pulled my foot out from underneath me and managed to gnaw on the toe of my boot before I drove my knife through its temple.
So many people had been either ripped in half or lost their lower limbs. At least that is the way it seemed. I sure as hell don’t recall seeing so many in that kind of shape in the movies.
I reached a fence that had sectioned off the backyard of one of the houses and could actually peek into that open area. The fence itself had been reduced to splinters in this location. From the looks of things, it had been crushed inward. I had to assume the zombies had done this with the sheer weight of their numbers.
All these houses facing this side had steep slopes to their yards. I hated being at the bottom. My line-of-sight would be hampered until I got up there. In this one yard I counted three of the undead. They were all gathered at a small doghouse. One of them was on its hands and knees with its upper torso crammed in the opening. Maybe it was stuck. That would be nice.
I slipped in and crept as slowly as possible so that I would not alert them to my presence. Already, I’d shifted to my hand axe. For some reason, that weapon felt natural in my hand now. There had been the opportunity for me to swap it out with a rugged machete Carl had located with some impressive gardening tools, but I had grown strangely attached to this particular weapon.
By the time I’d gotten within striking distance of the first zombie, I could see that the one on the ground had indeed gotten stuck inside the small dog house. That left the other two. The first had obviously been an employee of a fast food chain. The shirt with those all-too-familiar Golden Arches was a mess, but the logo was very recognizable. The poor kid looked to have been pulled down and feasted on. His lower body was an absolute wreck, and there were parts and bits hanging out of him that certainly should not be. My axe came down, and I caught him solid on the crown of his head.
One of the skills that I was learning and becoming more adept in was the quick pullback after a strike. If I didn’t, the body could fall and pull the weapon from my hand in the process. There was no way to avoid the sting that came from the sudden and violent contact, but if I braced for it, then it seemed not to hurt quite as much.
The second was just some random female. I didn’t bother to get that close of a look. In fact, I was trying not to look too closely at any of them. That seemed to humanize them a bit too much for my liking. Maybe the day would come when I would be okay with this, but for now, it was too soon. These had been regular people as recent as maybe even yesterday. The fact that they were the walking dead was perhaps something that I could come to terms with over time. For now, I needed to act fast.
I glanced at the one stuck in the dog house and decided it was definitely not worth my time to screw with it. If it somehow managed to dislodge itself, and I ran into it on the way out of this place, then I could deal with it at that time.
I jogged up to the house. The rear sliding glass window was completely destroyed. The stench from the house was so bad that I did not know if I could endure going in. I pulled out the wads of cotton that Carl had given me and swabbed them all across my upper lip and under my nose. They were coated with Vick’s Vap-O-Rub and flooded me with the smell of chemically reproduced eucalyptus.
I stepped inside and saw bits and pieces of human remains all over the place. That was in addition to the fallen corpses with various severe and traumatic head wounds. A few had taken shotgun blasts up close and were missing large portions of their heads. In a few cases, the dark, chunky spray that had dried to the walls told me where the shots had taken place.
I stopped in the kitchen and began to go through the drawers. This idea had come from Betty. While many people had long since stopped needing phone books, that did not stop them from being delivered. Some people disposed of them right away, but others shoved them in drawers. Maybe it was out of habit, but she’d made a good point about that possibility being our best bet for finding the exact locations of a lot of things we might need. Also, I was to check around for maps—another dinosaur that was fading into extinction. Still, if I was going to find an atlas or something of that nature, checking around in the kitchen area was a good start.
I was thrilled when I struck pay dirt on the first try. In a drawer of the island counter structure in the center of the kitchen, I found a local directory and stuffed it into my empty backpack. My pack had been in the garage with a bunch of other high end and very useful camping gear that we’d loaded the majority of into the Hummer. The pack would allow me to carry more stuff easier than just a simple duffel. It would allow me to keep my hands free in emergencies in addition to being a much quieter way to transport goods.
The next thing I did was head down the hall for the bathroom. While we’d found a few basic things in the house we were staying in, there had been a pitifully short supply of actual first aid gear—which I found strange considering some of our other finds that indicated the individuals who lived there were obvious outdoor types.
This house had what I expected I would find in most of them as I did my search. There was a bit of isopropyl alcohol, some hydrogen peroxide, and even some antibacterial ointment. There was a box of Band-Aids, but there were only three left in the box and they were the smallest ones that are barely good enough for a paper cut.
Upstairs, I found another bathroom, but this obviously was the one used by a teenager. There was absolutely nothing of use unless I counted the half a roll of toilet paper and the almost empty tube of toothpaste. I decided to stop long enough to scan the book for vets in the area. I found one. Now I needed a proper map to show me the best way
to get to it.
After making a note of some of the things that would be useful for us to come and grab, I moved on to the next house in hopes of finding a map. I had to creep along behind the car parked out front and then climb through the hedge that acted as a natural barrier between the residences. I made it to the side entrance to the garage, but discovered that it was locked. Creeping along the side of the house, I peered over the fence around the backyard. It looked clear and I hurried through the gate, closing it behind me before I allowed myself to exhale.
I stepped up on the small porch and a sound from behind me made me pause. It was coming from the yard of the house that I’d just left. Turning, something in my gut told me that whatever I was about to see…it was very bad.
Apparently, at some point, the zombie that had been stuck in that small dog house had managed to free itself. That had allowed what I was now seeing to also come out of the small, igloo-shaped piece of plastic.
What had once been one of those little yipping dogs that I personally never had any use for was now a matted mess of blood and gore. This poor thing had been ripped into at the belly and now dragged most of what remained of its insides behind it.
It sort of waddled as it made its way across the yard. When it reached the stairs leading up to the back porch, it paused and seemed to regard those stairs for a while before trying to climb them one at a time. As it scrambled up to the second stair, that trail of its guts got caught on the lip of the lower wooden step and eventually pulled most of the strand free.
Carl had been right. The dogs turn just like people. But then why hadn’t Chewie done so? My mind recalled having heard something about it taking as much as up to seventy-two hours. That would mean anytime now she should be hitting that mark. Part of me wanted to abandon this quest right here and now. If she turned while I was gone, that would put the burden on Carl most likely. He would be the person to put her down. In my mind, that needed to be me. Period.