Dead Tropics

by Sue Edge

  “I doubt a bit of rain will stop the corpses,” He said dryly. “but I feel sorry for the poor bastards trying to fight them in these conditions.”

  The sliding door quietly opened. I peered around to see my oldest daughter standing behind me.

  “The rain woke me and I couldn’t get back to sleep.” She answered my unspoken question. She looked across me at Mike. “Hey Mike.”

  He tipped his head at her before pulling his long body out of the chair. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies.”

  As he disappeared inside, Michele flopped into his chair. “Man, it’s cold out here!” She shivered dramatically.

  I agreed, waiting to see what she wanted to talk about. The nervously tapping fingers signalled something on her mind.

  “Mum, do you think Uncle Joe is alright?” She blurted out. I sighed. Of course she was worried about Joe. He had stepped in willingly to fill the huge void left by Charles’ death. When she was going through her ‘I hate mum’ phase, which was all too often, Joe was there to tease her back into good humor; when she needed time alone, he took her fishing and they would contentedly not talk to each other for hours. He had become as much a lifeline for her as he had for me.

  “I think he’s fine, honey. He is probably having the time of his life fishing.”

  “But what about when he comes back? What’s going to happen then?”

  That was the question, wasn’t it. I reached over and place my hand over hers, holding her eyes. “I’m going to do everything I can to keep him safe, honey. If I have to go pick him up myself, I will.”

  Michele nodded slowly, searching my eyes. She must have felt reassured because I felt the tension fade from her hand. Attempting a smile, she pulled back her hand.

  “Wait till I tell him how you kicked butt at the shops today.”

  I laughed. “He’ll never believe you.”

  She grinned, glancing at me. “Where did you learn those moves, anyway?!”

  I shrugged nonchalantly, aiming for supercool mum rather than desperate and lucky. “You watch enough tv, you pick something up, I guess.”

  Michele sighed and relaxed back against the deckchair. She closed her eyes and we sat in a companionable silence for a few minutes.

  “Hey, Mum?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You know how I always said I was never going to bring a guy around because you would embarrass me?”

  I smiled to myself. At least one good thing appeared to have come out of this disaster of a day. I appeared to have developed just a little bit of credit with my daughter at last. “Yes?”

  “That goes double now.”

  D’oh.

  Around midnight, as our watch was coming to an end, the deluge faded to a steady drizzle. Michele had gone back to bed. I stood at the balcony, straining to see if I could hear or see anything unusual. Mike came up to stand beside me, little Phoebe sticking close to his heels.

  “I can’t hear any gunfire.” Mike murmured.

  “Thank heavens. That must mean it’s over.” Maybe it meant we would be safe tonight.

  “Hmm.” His noncommittal response sent a chill through me as I realised what he was thinking. Had the battle been won - or lost? Could the zombies be on our doorstep this very minute?

  The heavy mist from the mountains now lay heavy at the bottom of our street, ever so slowly rolling towards us. Phoebe started to growl. Mike clicked his fingers and she stopped, but I could see her body quivering anxiously.

  Across the street, Jodie’s collie, Molly, started barking. A light came on in the house and the door opened. Jodie’s oldest daughter, Jasmine, poked her head out cautiously and, not seeing anything, let the dog out. The black and white collie raced out and down the street towards the mist, barking frantically. My heart started to pound. I had a really bad feeling about this.

  Jasmine walked down her front steps. “Mollie! Mollie! Come here, girl!”

  The dog disregarded her and disappeared into the mist, barking. The barking became a panicked squeal and then - silence. My disquiet turned into full-blown alarm.

  “Jasmine!” I called across the street urgently. “Get back in the house!”

  She looked towards us, hesitated for a second, and then hurried back inside, closing the door behind her.

  “Stay out of sight,” Mike murmured, pressing himself against the thick verandah beam. I followed his lead and tried to merge myself against the building as I peered into the street. Between the darkness, drizzle and fog, I could see little more than dark shapes. Across the street, however, the house light illuminated the area around it.

  “Switch off your light, Jasmine.” I whispered. If the zombies were here, they would be attracted by the only lit house in the street.

  “They didn’t finish boarding up the windows, like I told them to.” Mike noted grimly. Although there were a couple of pieces of wood reinforcing the side glass doors, I could still see into the room through the sheer curtains. If there was anyone moving around in the house, the zombies were bound to see it.

  Something moved on the edge of the lit area. Straining to see through the dark, I caught a glimpse of a leg passing through a beam of light. Gasping, I started to tremble.

  And then a figure stepped into the light. A man. What was left of him. Half of his chest had been torn away, leaving part of his torso and an arm.

  He stared at the lit house for a second before stumbling forward towards the stairs. Another figure followed him. And then another. I watched, aghast, as a crowd of zombies quickly grew around the house. They gathered at the windows and the french doors, anywhere they could see inside.

  Moaning, they banged on the glass. More and more figures pressed heavily against the panes. Then, the sound I had dreaded. The sound of breaking glass. The zombies began pouring into the house through the broken glass doors.

  Above the rain and the moaning of the creatures, the cries of the women in the house could be heard. Desperate, petrified, they pleaded for help, for mercy, for God.

  I clenched my hands uselessly, desperate to help and helpless to do so. Through the glass panes, I caught a brief glimpse of a woman disappearing under a wall of zombies. It was impossible to say who it was. The desperate cries for help pierced my heart like arrows. I wanted to clap my hands over my ears like a child as the screams went on and on.

  Yet, when there was finally silence, it was so much worse. I turned away, unable to speak. In the midst of that heartbreaking silence, I watched in horror as lights came on in house after house down the street. Next door, I saw the Bransons standing in the doorway, framed by the light of their home as they peered into the darkness.

  “What are they doing?” I hissed, dismayed. “They’ll draw the zombies straight to them!”

  “They don’t know that.” Mike sounded grim.

  “But we do. We’ve got to do something, Mike.”

  He met my eyes with a look of compassion. “There is nothing we can do right now.”

  Intellectually, I knew that. My heart didn’t believe it.

  As zombies stumbled out of Jodie’s home, drawn by the lights, I made a decision. I grabbed the loaded pistol off the table before Mike could react and bolted down the stairs.

  “Lori!” I heard Mike hiss.

  6

  Pulling myself over the roughly constructed barrier at the bottom of the stairs, I kept low and moved around to the back of the house. Keeping to the tree line, I made my way across to the elderly couple’s home next door. Nothing to it, I assured myself, get them inside and close those blasted shutters, head out the back door and be back home in five minutes. Sliding around the side of the home, I reached the front corner and took a cautious peek.

  A horde of dark shapes filled the street in front of their home. In the doorway, I could see the shapes of the Bransons blocking the light spilling onto the lawn.

  “Oh hell.” I muttered. Time had run out. I threw myself around the corner and up the three front steps, shoving the startled couple ba
ckwards. I slammed the door shut behind me and bolted it.

  “Lori!” Mrs. Branson gasped, her faded blue eyes wide with alarm. “What…”

  I didn’t waste time arguing as I rushed through the hall. “Mr. Branson, where is the remote for your shutters? You need to put them down now!”

  “Oh, uh, I keep it in the lounge room.” The old man looked flustered and lost but I did not have time to reassure him.

  Racing through an arched opening into the lounge with its surprisingly modern plasma tv and reclining chairs, I spotted a bunch of remotes on top of a display cabinet.

  “Which one, Mr. Branson?!” I yelled, feeling the precious seconds ticking by. I felt sick in the stomach as I heard panicked shouts and screams across the street. Another home, another family.

  “The, the silver one.” He stuttered. I grabbed it and, for a moment, tried to work out what button to press. Realising that I was wasting time, I thrust the remote in the old man’s shaking hand.

  “You do it, Mr. Branson. Please hurry!”

  Nervously, he ran a bony hand through his thin white hair. “Okay, let me think a moment…”

  The sound of breaking glass hitting the tiled floors in the room across the way brought our heads up sharply.

  “Oh my, oh my!” The little plump woman wrung her hands anxiously. “Why is this happening? What do they want with us?”

  More glass broke behind us in the direction of the kitchen and then one of the bedrooms. We were surrounded.

  Panic threatened to overwhelm me. Running to the lounge window, I peered out, hoping against hope that the route was clear. Just below the windowsill, a sea of soulless faces stared back at me through the gloom. As they spied me, their arms reached hungrily towards me like a field of plants bending towards the sun.

  Turning back, I saw the first dead figures stumbling through the arched doorway.

  “Run!” I screamed and shoved the old couple towards the other opening in the room. The gun! I reached into the back of my pants and pulled out the weapon.

  As more zombies piled into the room, I aimed at their heads and fired. It tore through the side of a zombie’s head, causing it to fall backwards into the bodies behind it. Glancing quickly behind me, I saw that the Bransons had, for once, moved quickly and were nowhere to be seen.

  I turned and headed after them towards the laundry door. The route ran directly past the kitchen. Before I reached it, I heard a pain-filled scream. Holding my gun in preparation, I turned the corner and saw the old man struggling to hold his wife’s arm as she was pulled through the narrow kitchen doorway.

  “Let her go, please!” He pleaded.

  From Mrs. Branson, I could hear no sounds. Coming up beside him, a quick look told me that the old woman was already dead. The three zombies filling the doorway were tearing into her throat and face with the enthusiasm usually reserved for free smorgasbords. Beyond them, another twelve or so zombies moaned and pushed in their attempt to reach us.

  “She’s gone, Mr. Branson. We have to go!” I yelled, knowing we only had seconds to spare. Oblivious to me and the danger, he continued to pull futilely at his wife. Looking around, I saw the first of the zombies from the lounge stumbling towards me through the narrow hallway.

  “Mr. Branson!” I tugged urgently at his sleeve. With a snarl, he pulled his arm away. Time had run out. Torn, I turned and ran for the laundry door at the back of the house. Behind me, the hall filled with the clumsy steps of hungry zombies. On my right, I caught a glimpse of bodies filling the hallway outside the bedrooms.

  A scream, quickly silenced, lent wings to my feet as I reached the laundry door. Flinging it open, I fled into the night, straight into a group of lurching figures.

  Screaming involuntarily, I skidded to a stop before the group as they turned towards me. Heart pounding, I spun around and sprinted between the houses towards the road. As I rounded the corner, the light from the Bransons’ home revealed several figures standing on the lawn like statues. They immediately swayed towards me. Through the rain, I could make out dark figures filling the street ahead. What the hell do I do now!

  A man was standing in the doorway of the home next door. As I looked at him, he raised his arm to me. There were zombies on his lawn already moving in my direction. I knew it was going to be a close call but I was fast running out of options. Leaping across the flowerbed separating the two homes, I charged towards the open doorway and the man reaching out to help me.

  Acutely aware of the zombies fast accumulating on my heels, I bolted up the steps of the raised home, two at a time. I glanced up at the man blocking the doorway. A large man, he filled the doorway, his head cocked as he looked down at me. Too late I realised it was because a large chunk of his neck had been gored out. I registered a body in the corridor behind him seconds before he lunged at me. Crying out, I stumbled backwards and fell hard onto the pavement, dropping the gun.

  In desperation, I drew my legs in and caught the zombie in the stomach as he threw himself on me. Using his body weight, just like I’d learned in a self-defense class, I launched him up and over my head. Leaping up, I grabbed the gun and backed up the stairs of the home, praying that there were no more zombies lurking behind me.

  With shaky hands, I aimed at the closest zombie before me and shot him through the head. It seemed a futile exercise with so many others ready to take his place but I had to try while there was breath in my body. I’d promised Jessie.

  I aimed at another zombie and missed him entirely but the zombies were so close together, that I took out the face of a woman behind him. She collapsed, taking a couple of other zombies down with her. A moan erupted from behind me. Shit! Spinning around, I saw the dead man on his knees about to plant his teeth in my thigh. I swung around and jammed the gun into his mouth. Baring my teeth in an instinctive snarl, I blew the back of his head out.

  Jumping over his fallen body, I ran through the house, searching for the back door. Fortunately, there were no more zombies in the home and I made it to the laundry door unimpeded. Opening it cautiously, I slipped into the welcoming darkness.

  Pressed against the back wall, I froze till my eyes adjusted to the dark, straining my ears for any unnatural sounds over the steady patter of rain. Shouts, screams, bangs and thuds could be heard all over the street, making it difficult to isolate closer, more dangerous, sounds.

  My peripheral vision caught movement to my right. Figures were shuffling across the manicured landscape, searching for fresh victims. I peered at the forest edge, trying to calculate my chances. Could I make it? I believed I could but what if the zombies had already made it into the trees? There would be no way for me to see a zombie lurking amidst all that shrubbery. I would be a sitting duck. No, I decided, I had to find another way. I almost snorted at my own thoughts. What other freaking way was there?! Up the street full of zombies?

  I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself. My mind raced through various potential scenarios, none of which ended well for me. Finally, I settled on a solution which, at least, had a chance of success. I would try for the river.

  7

  I heard the moaning and bumbling sounds of zombies drawing near on my left side. Time to move. Dropping to my knees, I shuffled under the raised home, refusing to think about all the spiders I knew would be there. Cautiously, by feel, I made my way to the front of the home. I banged my knees a few times and had to swallow a few screams as critters scuttled over my hands. Finally, I found myself under the front stairs staring into the street.

  Most of the corpses on the street had wandered off. I could only count four in the immediate area. However, I could see dark shapes moving across the street, surrounding the home of the family of boys. It was impossible to see how many zombies roamed further up the dark street. My best chance was to head down the street and make my way to the river through one of the undeveloped blocks. Thankfully, being a newly developed area, there were more grassy blocks than homes at this end.

  Slowing my breath
in an attempt to think more clearly, I plotted my course. The two blocks on the right of the boys’ home were undeveloped so if I could make it across the street safely, I would have a clear run to the river. While shallow at the moment, the river was fast moving and filled with rocks. It was my hope that the zombies’ lack of coordination would make it impossible for them to reach me in the middle of the river. I guess I was going to find out if my theory was valid.

  Like a horse coming out of the starter gate, I bolted out from under the house, past the zombies on the lawn, across the street and into the grassy field. The grass was knee high, forcing me into a leaping gait which slowed me down some. Moans that seemed to come from all sides told me that I had been spotted. I didn’t waste time looking behind me. Instead, I strained to see the trees that would signal I had reached the riverbank.

  Suddenly, the trees loomed ahead. Without pause, I dodged the branches and pelted straight into the fast-moving water. I fell to my knees on the uneven rocky bottom. Water splashed into my eyes and mouth. Pulling myself to my knees, I sloshed through the shallow rapids towards the deeper middle.

  A splash behind me jerked my head around. I couldn’t see anything in the dark but I saw the spray as the sound of another splash echoed through the rain. Facing upriver, I started forcing my legs through the current. My pants were soaked and dragging against my skin as the current tried to wash my feet out from under me. I stumbled and grabbed at a large rock to prevent myself from being washed downstream. Steady, I told myself, just take it nice and easy.

  Through the rain, I could hear frustrated moans keeping pace with me from the bank. Another splash but so far no zombie had approached me. I allowed myself to hope that I might make it. As long as you don’t get washed down straight into their arms, I reminded myself, so focus!

  After ten minutes of battling the current and uneven ground in the dark, I was completely exhausted. I was beginning to doubt whether I could make it all the way to the bridge. I focused on placing one foot ahead of each other, blocking out the rain, the moans and the occasional scream.