First Time Dead 1

by Chantal Boudreau

  “Lori, please, let me in!” screamed Sara. Her violent pounding caused her green bow to loosen and freefall to the ground. Sara knew she had no chance of convincing Lori, but she continued, “Lori, please…” She paused momentarily, growing quieter with her words. The next ones that escaped her lips were almost a dull whisper, “Please, Lori, I love you. You’re my sister, my best friend.”

  “I’m sorry,” Lori replied through the window, trying not to conceal her words within her sobs. “I wish I could help you, but I can’t. I’m sorry, Sara.”

  Sara nodded in silent and somber understanding. Her hands slipped down the window, leaving a trail of blood mixed with her handprints. Then, she was gone. She was ripped from the window and hauled along the ground by a gruesome mold-green old man with a deteriorated face and glowing red eyes. Sara’s shrill cries for help could’ve burst all the glass in the truck. Lori stared in horror, fear paralyzed her, but in her mind she was chasing after Sara, helping her get away.

  Lori realized she had only one choice—drive away immediately and quickly. She did just that, wishing her last moments with Sara had been different, better. Whimpers rose from the back seat as Zack, Lori’s eight-year-old brother, hid under a bundle of clothes; Lori had almost forgotten he was there.

  “Zack?” she questioned, probing his degree of consciousness. She slowed the truck to a stop in the middle of a bare street and turned to face the pile of clothes. “Are you alright?”

  “Is Sara ever coming back?” he replied, his voice a shaky whisper. He moved some of the clothes so Lori could see that his face was wet from tears. “Is she gone? Like mom and dad?”

  Lori’s eyes were red, bloodshot, and also full of tears, yet they still comforted Zack. She barely nodded her head in confirmation. He climbed out of the linen mound and placed his arms around her neck, burying his face in her shoulder. This was normal—their new normal. They could only depend on each other.

  “It’s going to be alright, I promise. We’ll make it, I swear. Just like your favorite Bon Jovi song, Livin’ on a Prayer,”she said as she took a shirt from the pile and wiped his face clean. He smiled, which Lori knew he would.

  “Cause it doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not, we’ve got each other and that’s a lot,” he said, continuing the lyrics.

  “For love, we’ll give it a shot,” Lori sang beautifully, her voice comforted Zack. They both started singing the chorus melodically, like they had done so many times before the sickness came.

  * * *

  The moon started to rise; Lori had driven for four hours before she pulled over to stretch her legs and fill up the gas tank. There were three cars with hoses in the tanks. Seems they have been deserted, probably after an attack while filling up. One of them should still work, Lori thought as she found a hose that had not been shut off and placed it in her truck’s gas tank. While the gasoline was pouring into the truck, Lori told Zack to stay covered and rushed to the gas station doors, hoping to get more provisions for their long journey. She paused just before the door and silently prayed the place would be deserted.

  “Hello?” she called out, hoping no one answered. Silently, she spent another brief moment at the door before she dashed in, grabbing bags of Doritos, boxes of Oreos, and two sodas, placing them in a bag she pulled out from behind the counter.

  Once at the truck, she pulled the hose out and placed it back in its original car. She got in the truck and set the bag in the backseat, something was different about the inside of the truck. The pile of clothes was gone.

  “Where did our clothes go?” she asked Zack, who was playing with the window.

  “I folded them up; I figured you were tired from driving so long. I wanted to help, so I put them in the suitcases that were in the bed of the truck,” he replied.

  “Aww, thank you, Zack,” she praised him and gave him a hug along with his soda. Lori started the truck, took a deep breath, and continued their journey—destination still unknown.

  * * *

  Lori drove down a freeway headed southwest. She eased the truck to a stop when she saw a black speck about the size of a person a mile or two down the road. Lori looked at Zack, who was thankfully sleeping again, and locked her eyes on the black speck. She continued to slowly inch down the road towards it, anticipating the worst possible thing at this point: another zombie. Once Lori was close enough to see that the black speck, now a figure with long blonde hair blowing slightly with the breeze, wasn’t a zombie, she climbed out of the truck and walked towards the figure. It was a young woman only a couple hundred yards away.

  Lori couldn’t help but become jittery. She had found another survivor—the first one in the last three-hundred miles. Lori’s dreadful frown immediately turned into a wide smile. She hadn’t moved more than twenty feet from the truck when her smiled disappeared along with her new found friend. Lori’s eyes widened as she quickly stumbled back to the truck. She had never seen a zombie do that, even though it’d only been three days. Lori was awestruck at the site of a sprinting zombie tackling the survivor with brutal force. The impact of the blonde’s head on the ground had splattered blood along the painted white lines of the freeway; there was no hope for her.

  Lori, holding in her screams of terror and anger, almost fell out of the truck trying to get in so fast. The only survivor she had found for miles now had a severe concussion if she wasn’t dead already, not to mention super-zombie salivating over her. Lori’s anger overtook her. She put the truck in drive and stood on the gas pedal, not taking it off until she felt the extremely large speed bump. Lori kept it at a steady pace and looked in her rearview mirror in time to see the super-zombie do a summersault. Stupid, idiotic, selfish zombie. That’s what you get, dumbass, she thought, still filled with anger.

  * * *

  With the super-zombie and the anger over his actions barely a blip in her memory, Lori pulled up in front of a sign that read ‘‘Rusty Café.’’ Zack was still fast asleep. It was a long drive, and although zombies aren’t very pretty, the drive was scenic. They had ended up in the outskirts of West Union, West Virginia, which is where Lori’s grandmother had lived; at least, as far as she could remember. Lori took her father’s M9 handgun out of the glove box and opened the door slowly, using her cell phone as a source of light as she stepped out.

  A sign swung slowly in the wind, rasping eerily as she walked under it. Lori opened the café door carefully as a small bell rang twice near the top left corner of the door. She scanned the darkness, holding up the gun in anticipation of another undead creature lurking nearby. To her relief, the café was empty…apart from herself.

  She walked cautiously to the kitchen, her sneakers squeaking against the cold tile floor. Once inside the desolate room, Lori reached for the light switch only to remain in the dark. She would have to continue to rely on the faint glow of her cell phone.

  “Shit, well this is just perfect,” Lori whispered. Her voice was soft and seductive, which was only accented by her golden hair and deep oceanic eyes that held a slight hint of green, a picturesque vision of perfect beauty and femininity. Yet, even with looks that could kill, her shyness and lack of personality had prevented her from ever finding a boyfriend.

  Lori searched through the fridge for a real meal when pans rattled behind her. Her hand tightened around the gun as she spun around—ready to fire—only to find that the wind from the open door had been pushing the pans back and forth as they hung from the ceiling. She resumed shuffling through the contents of the belly of the open metal beast. Jelly caught her eye and she began to salivate over the idea of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She grabbed the jelly, looked through a nearby pantry for peanut butter, and scanned the dark room for bread. After gathering her ingredients, she began searching through the drawers for a butter knife. She opened drawer after drawer looking for a knife, but only found odd items such as firecrackers, cigarettes, wires, electrical tape, wire cutters, and even gloves. Finally, her search revealed a steak knife.r />
  Lori spread the sweet jelly on the two pieces of bread, followed by the peanut butter and another slice of bread. She looked up periodically to check for any movement in the truck…there was none…and, once she was finished, she took the sandwiches out to it.

  Once back inside the truck, Lori locked the doors for their safety. Zack picked his head up and yawned.

  “Are you hungry, Zacky?” Lori asked the exhausted boy.

  “No…not really. Well…kinda,” he replied. “Where are we?”

  “West Virginia, Grandma Lucy used to live here, but I don’t remember where,” she said, handing him his snack before enjoying hers.

  After they finished, Lori asked Zack, ”Did you sleep well?” His answer wasn’t what she had hoped.

  “No…I dreamed of mom,” he said, wrapping his arms tightly around her and burying his face in her shoulder to hide the tears in his eyes.

  “Everything will be okay, I promise,” Lori assured him as they both drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 2

  The sun peeked over the mountains and shined on Lori’s face, waking her. She looked around before starting the truck, thankful that Zack remained asleep. There was no point of him having to endure the drive through West Union.

  She eased her truck onto a back road, trying to remember the route her dad used to take to their grandmother’s house. After about five miles, she decided her instincts were right. Lori spied the windmill that she knew to be next to a farm. The place had a certain untouched, uninfected feel to it. She pulled around the back side of the barn, blocking her view of the house, and parked. Zack had awoken to the sound of the engine dying and looked around eagerly before jumping out of the truck. Lori followed him to the big door of the barn and opened it just enough for a small person to fit. Popping her head in, she scanned the inside; it seemed vacant. After the okay from his sister, Zack ran inside looking around like a happy child should. Lori went back to the truck to gather some of their belongings and took them into their new safe house. Before she entered the barn for good, she stopped and glared at the house. It would be too obvious for them to stay there. The possibility of windows breaking would make them easy prey. She briefly wondered if anyone was inside, but discarded the thought of checking the house and went into the barn.

  Lori decided to examine their surroundings more carefully. Most of the items were normal farming tools: clippers, rakes, scythes, etc. However, there was one item that was unusual, a bow. It was dark green with black accents, a beautiful piece of work. She picked the precious item up with a sparkle in her eye.

  Lori had read a lot of mythical books throughout her last years of high school; she had a undying interest in elves, archers, and hunters. There was only one thing that tied her mythical curiosities together, the weapon of choice: a bow and arrow. On top of that, Lori had taken an archery course her junior year of high school, until she was kicked out of the class. “Creating stressful tension with the teacher’s favorite student” was how the dean put it. Since that class in high school, she hadn’t touched a bow, and thus let the dream of being the female version of Robin Hood dissipate.

  Lori picked up the arrow that sat beneath it, propped up against the wall, and place it in its rightful place, between the frame and string of the bow. She pulled back on the string. Memories of spending hours perfecting her aim on the school’s archery range came back to her. Some said she was the best in the school, but Lori knew she was the best in the district. She tensed up, pausing, then released her fingers’ grip, causing the arrow to soar through the air. Lori realized she hadn’t really aimed her shot at anything in particular. The arrow soared across the barn and into a dart board lying on the other side. Lori retrieved the arrow and placed it and the bow next to her as she sat down next to Zack.

  Hours passed and Lori tried to entertain Zack, but eventually ran out of stories from when they were kids. “I’m hungry,” Zack said with a frown while clutching his stomach.

  “Okay, hold on,” Lori replied, walking out of the barn to the truck. It was almost midnight.

  Lori looked up at the moon and stared at its beauty. The moonlight was so bright Lori could see her shadow on the ground as she opened the door of the truck. She grabbed a couple of bags and walked back to the barn. Glancing at the house, she stopped in her tracks; a light was on inside. Her stomach growled and she looked down as if to silence it, but when she looked back up the light was gone.

  She blinked her eyes, confused at what she had seen. It’s just my imagination playing tricks on me, she decided, and continued towards the barn.

  Lori sat next to Zack, handing him a bag of Doritos. Lori opened the Oreos and was blasted with a chocolate, sugary scent, making her mouth water and her stomach beg for a treat. She took a cookie out, closed her eyes, taking small bites between mmm’s and oh my God’s. She took the second one and twisted the top off, scraping the frosting off with her teeth.

  Before Lori could reach for another, a crackling sound drew her attention outside. Fear ran through her body as she quieted Zack’s movement. Click. Another sound came from behind the barn door, followed by more crackling. Lori grabbed the bow, strung the arrow, and aimed at the barn door. She had left the gun in the truck. Smooth, Lori, smooth, she scolded herself.

  The barn door opened slightly, and moonlight flashed onto the hand that moved it. Lori pulled back tighter, waiting for a clear shot. Before she could get it, a gun with a flashlight mounted onto it blinded her. Lori felt confused, squinting to block out the overpowering light.

  “Put my bow down,” said a deep voice from behind the light. Lori refused, thinking the infected had now learned to talk. It took almost all her strength to keep hold of the string of the bow and not let the arrow fly as the flashlight revealed a man of average height. He didn’t look much older than her, and he was dressed in army pants and boots, a snug fitting t-shirt and a hat.

  Lori lowered the bow as her eyes ran across the stranger’s face. Strong jaw line, nicely placed cheekbones, and dark eyes. Lori stared in awe when her eyes met his. She’d initially thought they were dark and brown, but they were blue. Not regular blue, these eyes saw though her, as if they could see into her soul. They were a deep blue, like nothing she had seen before. She got lost in the mysterious man’s eyes, so lost that she hadn’t realized she’d lowered the bow.

  That sound of the bow bouncing off the floor brought Lori back to reality from those deepening eyes. She saw trust in them, but the barrel of the gun pointed at her and Zack said otherwise. She grabbed Zack, protecting him from what would happen next.

  The gun lowered, “Will you relax? Damn, I ain’t gonna bite you,” the man said, laughing at his ironic comment. “I’m Steven.” He stuck his hand out for Lori to shake, which she did hesitatingly.

  “What are you doing here?” Zack asked.

  “I should ask you the same question. How did you get into my barn, little man?” Steven replied.

  “We’ve been here for almost a day now. How did you know we were in here? And what do you mean your barn?” Lori butted into the interrogation.

  Steven was surprised by her voice. He blinked a couple of times, dumbfounded. “I’ve been living here for two months now. After California became infected, lost electricity, water, and supplies, I came out to this place, preparing for the infection invasion.”

  Lori was caught in her head for a couple seconds. “So, this zombie thing started in California two months ago?” she asked.

  “Three actually. It took roughly three and a half weeks for everything to shut down. It’s going to happen here soon, too. That’s why I chose this place, windmill for electricity, which means no generator, which means no need for fuel or noise, which means less infected. And any noise I do make is masked by the longest creek in the world: the Middle Island Creek.”

  Lori felt proud of herself; she had chosen the perfect spot to hide, to protect Zack. “What about water?” Zack pointed out, sharing his chips with Steven, listening intent
ly. He seemed to like Steven already.

  Steven looked at Zack and answered his question, “I keep two packs of water in the truck for when I’m not home or an emergency happens, and there’s a well behind the house. Do you know what a well is?” he reverted the question back to Zack.

  “Yes, Grandma Lucy had one. She lived out here, too. Before she died,” Zack answered.

  “Oh, I’m sorry about her,” Steven said, frowning, but Zack ignored him, focused on stealing an Oreo from Lori.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your names,” Steven said, looking back and forth between the two.

  “I’m Lori, and this is Zack. Sorry for intruding in your barn we’ll leave if you would like,” Lori said, standing up and grabbing her things.

  “No, it’s okay. It’s been a while since I’ve seen another survivor.” Steven looked at Zack and smiled, making Lori’s heart skip a beat, confusing her even more. She remembered the sight of a lonely girl walking down the freeway just moments before being tackled by the super-zombie that came out of nowhere. She winced and sat back down, shaking the thought from her head, forcing herself to change what she was thinking about, which was quite easy with Steven’s next words.