Chapter 33
William led the way to Norman’s. They walked with purpose. With the forest as thick as fur on either side, the freshly paved road was an anomaly given its surroundings. The three of them were thankful for the level ground, since the storm in Whittier had also produced a white covering on much of Shotgun Cove. The roads were not yet icy and produced sure footing as opposed to the muddy and slick ground in the trees around them. The shadows were longer and lingered later, helping the snow resist the urge to melt.
The walk to Norman’s big lodge took them about fifteen minutes of steady moving. When the big house came into view, Gordon, William and Neill all stopped and looked around. There was no one to be seen and nothing to be heard.
The enormous lodge, which dwarfed William’s by several hundred square feet, looked locked and secure. Only William appeared to be without concern by that fact. Under normal circumstances, Norman’s lodge was bustling with activity and teeming with visitors; the troubles in Whittier had barely changed that reality.
The house in front of them would be perfectly at home in a ghost town. The men slowly and cautiously approached the lodge, watching and listening for any signs of life.
Movement in an upstairs window caught Neil’s eye. He stopped and watched for anything more. William slid over next to him and followed Neil’s pointing finger to the window. Neither man spoke for fear of disturbing the quiet and drawing attention to themselves.
William saw nothing at first. Neil never took his eyes from the window. When William looked again, he saw someone move in front of the opening. It was Melinda, Norman’s wife. William recognized her hair and the fleece top she was wearing but she moved too quickly for him see any details.
William lifted his index finger as if to say, wait. When he saw Melinda walk in front of the window again, he called out, “Melindaaaa.”
Seconds later, Melinda, a tough, middle-aged woman who laughed and smiled more than anyone William knew, burst through the window headfirst. She tumbled in a flurry of trailing glass and accompanying curtains.
When she hit the wood shingled awning covering the front porch, she pitched and rolled violently, her face drenched dripping blood from her shattered nose and the many gashes caused by the breaking glass. William started to run to her assistance but Neil grabbed him by the collar.
As she hit the muddy but solid ground below, Melinda toppled over, seemingly folded in half in the wrong direction, her neck twisted and broken. William was speechless. Her position was indescribably unnatural. William couldn’t bring his feet to move and his breath was threatening to seize in his chest. The three of them watched for several moments while William and Gordon came to terms with what they were seeing. Neil was waiting for something else entirely. He knew what to expect and needed these men to know as well.
Gordon stepped forward but William said, “No. Wait. Something doesn’t feel right here.”
William couldn’t have been more right.
Despite her broken body and the red storm of blood her fall had caused on the undisturbed carpet of snow, Melinda began to move. Her arms folded as she dug her fingers into the ground and pulled herself forward. Her torso tilted backward and, like a carpet unfolding, her legs flopped over into their proper place.
Gordon had hit his limit. He leaned forward and spilled his coffee and muffin onto the snow covered leaves at his feet. The hot vomit burned his nose and his throat terribly. He took two steps back, spitting more of the bile from his mouth.
“That’s what happens when someone gets bit,” Neil said. “They get real sick real fast, they die, and then they come back like that. She’s coming for us. They are only driven to eat...eat us.”
Melinda’s snail paced crawl gave Neil a moment to finish. “Gordon, you said the bodies you saw over here were riddled with gunshot wounds. Right?” Neil didn’t wait for an answer and went on, “The only way to kill these things is to destroy the brain. You have to hit them in the head with whatever you got on hand.”
William raised his rifle, but Neil touched his shoulder again. “It makes too much noise. When they’re easy like this, use something else.” Neil pulled his bat from his backpack and walked slowly over to the slithering creature that had once been a very familiar neighbor to Gordon and William. Without any pomp or circumstance, Neil lifted his bat and smashed in her skull with three quick swings.
Melinda grunted twice with the first two blows and then was quiet. Neil joined the other men and asked, “Is there another way in other than the front door?”
The other two men were still dumbfounded and speechless, having a hard time processing or accepting what had just happened. Was that Melinda? It certainly looked like her. Did someone or something throw her through the window or did she drive herself through the glass? Why? Why to any of it?
“Gentlemen,” Neil urged, “we have to move. Whether we go in there or just seal it up, we have to make it happen now. We should probably check out the other places that have people in them too. How many people live in Shotgun Cove?”
Still no response from neither Gordon nor William. Neil started to walk around the building alone when he heard a set of footsteps join him. He knew it was William without having to look back. He was glad to have the big man along with him.
Seeing other footprints already in the snow, Neil looked up and saw that a window on the side of the house had been broken outward, much like the one through which Melinda had flown. He scanned his surroundings.
Trees, trees, and more trees. In some places, the trees were so densely packed that snow had not made it through to the forest floor. The trees were actually a good thing, because trees shed leaves this time of year. With the ground covered in fallen leaves, it would be exceptionally difficult for anything to sneak up on them.
Continuing around to the back door, Neil allowed a dejected sigh to escape. The door was standing open. There was blood stretching from the bottom of the stairs to the middle of the cleared lot where a mostly devoured corpse was resting. There were multiple sets of footprints around the eviscerated carcass, all of which led off away from the cabin.
“There may be more in the lodge but there may be people too. Should we check?” Neil asked.
William thought Neil was the expert and was about to say as much when they both heard the sounds of movement and a scream from inside. Neither man needed any more encouragement. They climbed the stairs and entered a back mudroom where boots, fishing gear, winter gear, and the like were stored. They both noticed and were worried by a smeared bloody handprint, glistening wetly on the wall next to them.
Both Neil and William were carrying their firearms again. They crept through the adjoining rooms trying to ignore the mess and the mayhem which had ripped through the lodge. There was more blood and some long locks of dark, wavy hair that had been pulled violently from a woman’s head.
William motioned to the ceiling and so they worked their way upstairs. The room from which Melinda had jumped was locked from the inside. Neil held his breath and knocked. He whispered, “Is there anyone in there?” After several anxious seconds, they decided the room was likely empty. Melinda couldn’t have been thrown. Like Neil said, Melinda had leapt through the window in order to attack and eat William, Neil and Gordon.
They heard more movement. Swallowing hard and moving slowly, they inched themselves closer to the stairs. Footsteps. They heard footsteps just below them. Neil lowered the muzzle of his rifle toward the stairs and started to make his way down. In an instant, he saw a shadow and then a figure looking up at him.
William let out a little whimper that did not align with his frame, before he realized it was Ferguson staring back up at him. He was a cook and general handyman at another of the lodges in the area. He was a likable young fellow with a smile for everyone and unequaled culinary capabilities. Several of his salmon recipes had already created regular diners at the lodge and offers of employment from other owners.
He was a young guy living fast
and hard. The rough mileage showed itself in the many lines already formed on his face and the deep rasp in his voice. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, Ferguson said, “Front door was open. We heard shots. What the hell happened h—?”
Norman Kellogg sprung from the shadows and latched himself onto Ferguson’s tattooed throat. Grinding his teeth together with the power and ferocity of a shark, the thing that was once Norman, the wealthiest lodge owner in Shotgun Cove, cleaved Ferguson’s flesh to the bone, producing a fountain of blood which sprayed the walls and floor all around him. Norman was chewing the soft, warm skin when Neil shot once, sending a bullet at close range through Norman’s forehead. Most of what had been in Norman’s skull was sprayed onto the ground behind him.
Ferguson stood motionless for a moment, a look of profound surprise on his face. He stared at William for a moment as his life along with his blood seeped mercilessly from his body. He leaned against the wall and slowly slid down it to the floor, leaving a running smear of blood in his wake.
Neil aimed his rifle at Ferguson but hesitated when William shot him a look and shook his head. Neil started to say that it needed to be done, for both Ferguson’s and their sakes, but was put off again when William started to climb back down the stairs, placing himself between Neil and the young, stricken man.
“We gotta get outta here,” Neil said. “Now. Gordon, you down there?”
Gordon had just come to terms with Melinda’s fate in the front yard. Ferguson had run into Gordon outside and had talked him into following him into the lodge. No sooner had they entered than Gordon saw the man attacked by Melinda’s husband, who was then shot to death. It was a lot to take in all at once. Gordon heard William utter his name, but he wasn’t sure what to do. When both William and Neil appeared on the steps, he was still unable to respond.
He heard William ask if he was okay, but again he found it too difficult to speak. He nodded and shrugged at the same time.
Another voice caught their attention, a woman’s voice and one that was familiar to William. “Mia, is that you?” he called out.
“William?”
The big black man nodded in every direction, “Yeah. It’s me.”
“Did you kill Norman?”
“He’s dead.”
A narrow door below the stairs opened slowly revealing a young woman stuffed tightly into a tiny closet already full with other items. She fell out in a sobbing heap.
“Mia,” Neil asked, “is there anyone else in the house?”
William helped her to her feet while she sobbed, unable to answer Neil. He pleaded with her, “Can you answer him? Is there anyone else hiding?”
She nodded and pointed toward the stairs.
William asked, “Melinda?’ to which Mia nodded. “Okay, anyone else?” William saw no need in sharing the gory details about Melinda with Mia at present. If they went out the front door, she was going to see it for herself anyway.
Mia moaned, “Tom. He locked himself in the bathroom upstairs.” She then lost herself in her tears again.
Corralling the stupefied Gordon and the sobbing Mia up the stairs, William and Neil headed for the upstairs bathroom. They passed two open rooms in addition to the one in which Melinda had been but didn’t run into any more of the undead demons. Those rooms looked to be in good order; obviously the running battles that were fought in the house had spared these rooms.
On the right was the bathroom and its door was indeed closed. It looked like the door had been pounded heavily from outside without breaching it. William knocked while Neil settled onto his heels with his rifle ready to fire. There was no answer.
Mia said from further down the hallway, “Tom. It’s Mia. Norman is dead. We need to get outta here. Unlock the door.”
They shared worried looks when there was no response from inside the bathroom and were about to leave when they heard a sound from the other side of the door. William’s mouth dried instantly and his jaw clenched. He thought to himself, Not again, please.
To Neil’s surprise, the door handle clicked as it was unlocked, and the door opened slowly. A pair of scared, red eyes appeared in the small slit of an opening between the door and its frame.
Seeing Mia and the other men, Tom let the door open wide and fell forward. He was sobbing as much as Mia, seeking comfort in her arms. Instinctively, Neil looked the man over and saw the unfortunate signs of a recent bite on his right forearm.
As was the case with many of the wounds Neil had seen over the months, the bite looked superficial and largely innocuous. Under other circumstances, Tom might need a tetanus shot and a day to recuperate. This bite, though, carried a death sentence and much more.
William could sense Neil’s dread. He looked at him and shook his head. He said, “I know what you’re thinking but we can’t. We just can’t.”
Through her sobs, Mia asked, “Can’t what?”
Neil took a deep breath and was about to answer when at the opposite end of the hallway emerged Ferguson, seething with rage.
Gordon was confused. “Fergie, are you okay then?”
Blood was still pumping from the gaping wound on the young cook’s neck. The entire right side of his body was covered in uneven streaks of red, much of the red syrupy fluid dripping and pooling on the floor at his feet. He stood there in the hallway seemingly confused but that lasted only a moment. When he looked up, his expression was absent everything but the fury that filled his eyes to overflowing.
With a subhuman growl, he took three huge strides and then Neil’s rifle barked. The bullet struck Ferguson in the chest and hurled him backward. It wasn’t a kill shot, but it was enough to stop his charge and buy Neil the time to hit him with a more aimed and calculated pull of the trigger. The second bullet hit Ferguson on the bridge of the nose, painting the hallway behind him with blood and gore, dropping him where he stood.
“We need to leave,” Neil said. “Is there anyone else?” He wanted to say more, but he could sense the others around him had hit their limit of bad news. Tom didn’t look like he was going to die any time soon, though the color was fading rapidly from his cheeks.
Mia shook her head and looked at Tom. She could tell something was not right in her young friend and worried for his safety. Neil knew she couldn’t begin to guess how worried she should be, and he didn’t have the heart at the moment to break it to her. He would be satisfied if they got away from this place.
Walking out the front door, William knelt next to Norman’s grotesque corpse. He took a deep breath and fished into the dead thing’s pockets. He struggled to control his gag reflex until he finally laid his finger on what he sought. He nodded triumphantly when he produced the key ring.
“I bet one of these goes to Norman’s truck.”
Gordon smiled a gleeful acknowledgment, his typically dour attitude lifting at that possibility. Norman had a beautifully kept Land Rover LR4, which had had everyone in the Cove salivating for some time. The LR4 was both rugged and refined. If he could afford one, Gordon had thought he might be interested in getting one too. That was a big if, and his sense of practicality would always outweigh his sense of adventure.
William could see it in Gordon’s eyes, so he tossed his old friend the keys. “Wanna drive?”
Gordon smiled, his teeth yellowed from a lifetime of coffee and the occasional pipe. He brushed back the puffy tuft of white hair on the top of his scalp. If he had had sunglasses, he would have pulled them on and said something like, “Let’s ride.”
As it was, he had no sunglasses and the corpse-littered house killed any levity he may have felt. Gordon looked down at Norman’s corpse for a quiet moment. He wondered how many others he would see similarly in the days to come.
The big green Land Rover was parked on the opposite side of the lodge in a carport with a pair of high end Ski-Doo snow-machines and equally nice Honda four-wheelers. Next to the carport was a partially constructed single-engine plane beneath a blue and green tarpaulin.
“Geez,”
Neil remarked. “This guy had more toys than Santa.”
There wasn’t time to admire the vehicles; Tom’s wound and his disposition were both going from bad to worse. Neil had seen it far too many times. The process was painfully familiar. He wished he could spare them all, but there was no getting around it. Tom was living on borrowed time and if they weren’t careful, he would be borrowing from all of them.
Chapter 34
They arrived back at Gordon’s house to find a table full of food and Betsy waiting at the window above the front door. She hid her relief at Gordon’s return. She asked with a smile, “Did you stop at the car dealership? Dear, you should probably consult your wife before...”
Betsy’s mirth dried up when she saw Tom in the doorway. He was being carried more than he was walking, his legs dangling and useless on most steps. His arm looked terrible, like he had been poisoned or something. The flesh around an obvious bite was discolored and the veins leading away from the wound looked to be filled with tar. Tom, barely hanging on to his consciousness, was led to a spare bedroom upstairs.
Neil recommended that they tie Tom to the bed as a precaution. William understood Neil’s concerns but was still not clear on the specifics. He accepted that something happened to people suffering bites by those who had already been infected, although he didn’t know if he accepted that nothing could be done once someone was bitten. Neil seemed to be in an awful rush to put a bullet between people’s eyes.
Then again, William had stopped Neil from doing the same to Ferguson who then tried to attack them the same way Norman had attacked him. It was all just so crazy and surreal to think that any of this could be happening. This was the stuff of folklore and of the past. How could this be happening in this day and age?
Maybe he would get some answers after talking with Mia. Perhaps some of those information gaps plaguing his understanding would be bridged.
Back down in the main room, Neil said to William, “I think we should head back to your lodge. We need to let them know what’s going on.”
Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (Book 4): Resolution Page 19