by C. M. Wright
Chapter 12
I stand is total shock, my arms and gun still pointing at the bathroom. I hear something clatter to the floor and then a man cursing. Finally I see him as he falls beside Jake and and tries to wake him. This must be his brother. He looks like Jake and has a bald head, though not as tall or as big as Jake. He's thin from the cancer, so very very thin. Fragile-looking. Looking up he finally notices me. He throws his hands up and screams, "Don't shoot! I'm alive!" Well, no shit Sherlock. I haven’t exactly had a zombie come up and speak, asking to eat my brains, yet. I lower my arms.
He begs me to help him, gesturing toward his brother, and I move over to kneel next to Jake. Checking for a pulse, I tell him his brother will be alright. He just knocked him out. Pretty tough for a little dude with such a horrible disease eating away at his body. I feel a moment of sympathy. Maybe a little pity. And I hate that, knowing he'd probably hate that. But I can't help it. Cancer sucks and it shouldn't happen to anyone.
He stays by his brother's side, continuing to try to wake him, and I join Will at the door. Telling Will what happened, we stand and watch down the hall for movement and listen for any noise. Finally, I hear Jake's voice, though weak. I go back and kneel down next to him once more. I ask him if he plans to sleep all day and he gives me a slight smile/grimace. Grabbing his head, he moans. He looks up at his brother and says to him, "Lil' Dude, I'm happy as hell to see you, but you hit me like that again and I'm gonna kick your skinny ass."
His brother smiles at him, "Sorry, Bro. You gonna lay here and bitch or are we getting the hell outta here?"
We help Jake stand. He wobbles a bit, but after a few moments, regains his balance. He tells his brother he needs to get dressed, so Will and I step outside to give him some privacy. We leave the door open in case we need to let them know there's trouble. We can hear Jake helping his brother dress and his brother getting pissed off and insisting he can dress his own damn self. I grin at Will as we listen to them argue. Typical brothers. No matter that the world has gone to hell. They finally come out of the room and join us. Jake tells us we need to get as much medical supplies and meds as we possibly can. We grab several pillowcases and start filling them up. Jake goes in search of the meds and equipment his brother will need and also finds extra battery packs for the equipment.
Jake is down at the other end of the hall and is about to go into the intersection where this wing ends and the doors leading to the other wings are located on each side. I assume he is going to shut those doors. Suddenly, he whips around and comes running full-speed toward us, yelling for us to run. We turn and run toward the stairwell door and are almost there when his brother falls. Will and I stop and go back for him. I look up and see that Jake is almost to us and behind him, the entire hall is packed as far as I can see with zombies. Jake runs up and lifts his brother into his arms. I think any other day, his brother would fight him about that. But I can see his face looking around Jake and it's one full of terror. Will and I grab the bags of medical supplies Jake had dropped and we take off after them.
We make it to the stairwell and Jake is trying to get over the zombie mountain we had made while still carrying his brother. As Will and I are waiting for our turn, I look back and am filled with anxiety at how close they are. Finally, Jake makes it over and just in time, too. Will tosses our bags over the bodies, grabs my arm, and pulls me up the mountain of dead zombies.
I get my foot stuck between body parts and fall. I pull and pull but it won't move! Will pulls as hard as he can on my arms. I feel a cold hand grab my leg. I close my eyes waiting for the bite I know is coming. I hear a gunshot and the hand loosens it's grip. I look up to see Jake putting his rifle back over his shoulder. Jake grabs hold of my right arm, while Will puts both hands on my left and suddenly I'm up next to the men. We all grab the bags and Jake and Will keep beside me as we run up the stairs to the landing. Safe. I grab onto Will and sob into his neck. God, that was terrifying! Jake gives me a minute then tells us we have to go. Jake lifts his brother again and we run to the top floor where we had parked. Sitting his brother on the floor, Jake looks out the window. He jumps to the side and we all do the same. I look over at Jake and he shakes his head at us. We stay quiet.
Finally, Jake whispers as loud as he dares, "There are a lot out there. Maybe fifty. We might be able to get to the Hummers. It's a big risk tho."
I lean my head back against the wall, raising it toward the ceiling, and close my eyes. My heart is pounding. I turn my head and look at Jake's brother, then back to Jake. He's watching me and apparently knows what I'm thinking, because he looks as worried as I am that he can't possibly run fast enough with him in his arms. My brain kicks in and I tell everyone that I have an idea. I run it past them to see what they think.
"Will and I run to our Hummer and drive off down the ramp. After we get far enough away, we stop and draw them toward us, giving you and your brother time to get in your vehicle safely." They think about it and finally agree it's a good plan and about the only option we have.
Will and I move to the door and I look out. I'm relieved to find the closest zombies are about twenty yards away and this should be fairly easy to do. We pull our guns out and get ready. I unlock the door and look back out to see if they had heard us. Didn't seem to. My hand without the gun shakily flattens against the door. I take a big deep breath and shove the door wide, already running. I reach Jake's Hummer and sharply turn to go to the passenger side of ours, when I come face to face with a fat rotting man. He grabs for me and I back up. I have to back up some more in order to get a shot that will take him down. Will ran past me, going so fast he couldn’t see the problem I'm facing. I hear him running back to me, screaming my name, but I shut him out. I raise my gun, aim and fire. I have no time to run and he falls on me. His head is on my chest and his big body has me trapped. He knocks the breath from me when we fall. I'm struggling to breathe at the same time I'm trying to get his fat ass off me. Finally, I feel the weight of him leave me as Will pulls him off and then grabs me, pulling me to the Hummer.
I look up and see the horde of undead are almost on us. I fling myself into the passenger seat and yell at Will to come on. I grab his arm and give it a yank to let him know I mean NOW! He scrambles inside the truck on top of me and slams the door shut. The zombies are immediately at the windows, banging and moaning. Will gets off of me and slides behind the wheel. Jamming the key into it's slot, he starts the truck, rams it into reverse and plows over some of the zombies behind us. Turning the wheel as he reverses, he is able to down the ramp. Will stops near the turn, and we both twist around in our seats, watching the zombies slowly shuffle our way.
I see Jake cautiously open the stairwell door and carry his brother to his Hummer. When I see Jake safely get inside, I tell Will to keep going and we make it down to street level and out the exit to the main street. The zombies follow us, allowing Jake to get out. We take off at a faster speed and Jake follows.
Chapter 13
The further away from downtown we get, the fewer zombies we start seeing. Eventually, we feel safe enough to pull into the parking lot of a gas station. Turning our vehicles toward the street so we can see the open areas better, Jake pulls up as close to my side as he can get. He and I roll down our windows.
Jake says, "Well, I can't believe it, but we did it. Thanks to both of you. I couldn't have done this by myself. Thank you for helping me get my little brother back. I guess this is where we go our separate ways."
"You know, you're welcome to come to Missouri with us." Will tells him. I look at Jake and nod, pleading with my eyes for him to say yes. We could really use him and his knowledge. Plus, we can all help with his brother. Jake looks at us for awhile, indecision on his face. He raises his window and turns to his brother. They are obviously having a discussion about the offer. Finally, he lowers his window again.
"Are you both sure we won't be more of a burden?" He asks us.
I shake my head and tell him, "No. Not at all. I don'
t think you or your brother would be a burden. You could actually be a huge asset to us by teaching all of us how to use weapons and whatever other skills you possess." Will agrees and says so. Jake looks at his brother again and I see his brother nod. Jake turns back to us, grinning and nods his own head. I grin back at him, excited that he and his brother are going with us.
We see a couple of undead heading our way. Still two blocks away, we don't hurry.
"So, now that we are going to be staying together, maybe you should introduce us to your brother." I tell him.
He does and we learn his brother's name is Greg. He's 24 years old and has Leukemia. Just before all this crap happened, his cancer specialist had told him they think the treatments had been successful although he would continue being sick for awhile after all the trauma his body had been through. Apparently, Jake hadn't known this yet and I see the joy on his face. Greg sees it too and hurries to inform Jake that they weren't positive of that so they shouldn't get their hopes up. Jake nods but I can tell he only believes one thing. I really hope he's right. Greg looks down at his lap and tells us he was a football player in high school and had been offered a scholarship to a popular university. It is hard to picture him in a football uniform by the way he looks now. He continues telling us how excited how excited he was, how excited his family and his longtime girlfriend was. Then he got sick. His entire body hurt even when he wasn't moving. He grew so weak he could barely get out of bed, let alone play football, or even attend school. His parents took him to the doctor, who then referred him to a cancer specialist. After a ton of tests and a phone call, his entire life changed. He had to quit the team, he didn't get the scholarship, everyone treated him differently. Either they babied him, he says, giving a sharp look at his brother. Ignored him as if he didn't exist anymore, like his friends and his girlfriend. Or, worse, became disgusted with him and threw him out of their lives. He gives Jake a look filled with pain and Jake places his hand on Greg's fragile shoulder. I wondered what that was all about and figured we weren't going to be told. Just as I was resigning myself to accept that it was to be one more mystery, Jake looks at Will and I, and the deep anger and pain I see on his face makes me suck in a sharp breath. Maybe I don't want to know. But Jake opens his mouth and tells us, whether we want to know or not.
"We lived in Florida. Our Dad was a huge football fan who molded us into football players before we could even walk. He was never accepted on a team when he was a kid, so he was determined to see his sons on the field, but not just that, we had to be the best. We were never allowed to do anything else. No other sports, no other high school activities, hell," he gives a short laugh, "he even had to approve our girlfriends. Football cheerleaders only. If we did anything he didn't approve of, even talking to a "regular" girl about an assignment for class, it would earn us a beating. Dad was a big muscular man and, at our age, we didn't stand a chance of taking him on. We'd heard he was a mean son-of-a-bitch in school. Bullying everyone unfortunate enough to get in his way. Well, aging didn't change that. He beat our mom and she allowed it. Allowed him to beat us, sometimes severely, even when we were just little kids.
Jake pauses, obviously at a part of his story that is hard for him to tell, "When Greg had to quit the team and was in bed most of the time, growing weaker and sicker, Dad would come home from work everyday, climb the stairs to Greg's room, and while his own son lay helpless in his bed, he would beat him, yell at him, blame him for getting cancer, like it was his own fault. I was away overseas in the war and had no idea any of this was going on. Greg was the only one who ever kept in touch with me, except for the few times Mom had written, passing on the message that Dad needed money transferred to his account immediately so he could attend a pro-football game. I always sent it because I knew Greg would be punished if I didn't. Greg stopped writing me and I never knew why. I didn't know about the cancer."
Jake stops and looks at Greg, who shrugs at Jake, making it obvious it's an old argument.
Jake continues, "After a few months of not hearing from him, I sent a letter to a friend of mine back home, who told me about Greg. I went home on leave, and walked in on our dad, "Jake pauses again, trying to keep the emotions back, "I walked in on him beating on my little brother, who was already much thinner, too weak to lift a hand to try and fend off the blows. I beat him almost to the point of death, and probably would have, if our mom hadn't walked in and threatened to call the police on me. The threat of being thrown in jail didn't bother me. The disgust for that woman did, plus, if I went to jail, I wouldn't be able to protect my brother and he would definitely pay for what I did. So, I left my dad lying on the floor, unconscious, bruised, and bleeding, picked Greg up and we left that house for the last time. I took him straight to the hospital, where they documented the proof of the beatings, and called the cops themselves. Instead of me, my dad spent a short time in jail. Before long, he was out, free to harass us wherever we went, demanding money, showing up at the hospital whenever I took Greg for treatments, calling at all hours to scream and threaten us. The police couldn't, or wouldn't, do much. So one night, I packed up and moved Greg and I to Springfield, where I had been transferred to after explaining to my superiors what was going on. He hadn't found us, or at least, we hadn't heard anything from him or our mother, and then this zombie shit happened."
Will and I sit, speechless. We have never heard more than a few sentences at a time from Jake and this speech was horrifying. I look away, trying to get the rage that I'm unable to release on the two people who deserve it, under control. I look at Will, who's wearing the same expression of barely controlled anger as I am. How the hell could those two monsters do that to their own kids? And then to continue when one of them has cancer and is dying?
I stare down at my lap and breathe in and out a few times. Feeling a little more stable, I turn my head back to Jake and he's already staring at me. His eyes lock on mine and we freeze that way for a few moments. Finally, he blinks.
He turns his head to the windshield, lets out a big sigh, then turns back to us, saying, "We better go." He starts his engine and I turn my attention outside the vehicle and suck in a sharp breath. The undead have surrounded us and are closing in. Will starts our Hummer, and I push the button to raise the window. Jake cuts a path through them and we follow Jake to the interstate. I call my mom and find out that, for now, they are parked on the side of the interstate a few miles outside Springfield, but if they have to move, she'll call me. I hear relief in her voice that we are all safe and, in the background, I can hear the boys asking if it was me and if we are ok. She turns on speakerphone, and I talk to my boys. We call out I love you's and hang up.
I relax in my seat and and think about all we had done today. I'm exhausted. Finally giving in, I lay down on the bench seat and put my head on Will's leg. Pulling my legs up to try to get warm was the last thing I remember.
I wake to Will lightly rubbing his hand over my hair and calling my name. I struggle to open my eyes and finally get one eye half open. The passenger door flies open behind me and two boys climb on top of me, hugging Will and I both. After the second elbow to the stomach, I tell them to let me up. We listen to the boys explain their adventure to get here. They ask about our own and we give them the shortened version, leaving out some key details. Mom and Dad come over as we are all getting out. They hug us both.
Jake walks over smiling. I notice Greg is sitting in their vehicle looking exhausted but happy to be with his brother. I ask Jake how Greg's doing and he tells me he just gave him his meds but he seems to be ok, other than tired. As Jake, Will and my parents talk about where we are going, I wander off to the side of the road. Looking around and listening, I decide it's clear and head down the slight ditch to the rows of small trees and bushes. Yep. Gotta pee. I find a good spot that is surrounded by pretty thick bushes.
As any woman can tell you, crouching down to pee sucks in every way. What woman hasn’t thought of snakes biting them on the ass, or some kind of poisono
us plant, or, HORROR! falling over into the wet mess on the ground? It's happened. Sure, usually it's a woman that's had just a bit too much to drink but, still. And then the fear of pissing all over your pants, shorts, underwear (or panties if you're wearing the sexy ones) AND THEN, the dilemma of wiping. So, do you use a leaf, but again, there's the poisonous issue. Or maybe wiggle and jiggle dry? Because just trying to air dry is impossible. Since I forgot to grab a roll of the damn toilet paper, I have to choose between the wiggle/jiggle method or a leaf. One other problem with having to pee crouching, you can't see what's coming for you over the barrier of greenery. That really, really sucks.
Should I have gotten Will or my mom to keep a look-out for me? Yep. This is one of those parts in the movies where you get so pissed off at how stupid one of the actors are for doing this very thing. You yelled at the screen, calling them every name in the book, as if they can hear you. I did, too. Call me all those names now, cause I screwed up.
Crouching down and finally finishing, doing the wiggle and just starting the jiggle, I hear a moan from the bushes closest to the field, not the road. I forget about the jiggle and yank my pants up, not bothering to zip or snap them. I grab my gun from the ground where I had placed it and take a few steps back. I can see movement between the dense leaves and branches of the bushes. Too dense to actually see details, just movement. But the moans and shuffles are unmistakable.