by David Lovato
His gaze fell to the floor, and he began to weep. A headache had come over him. He couldn’t stop the memories; as much as he tried, nothing put them to rest. Even though he was not in Liberty when his family was lost, his head ached with the images, and even worse, the guilt. If only he’d been there. If only it hadn’t been so busy in Gladstone, he could have gotten off and gone to Liberty. He could have prevented this from happening to them. But thinking like that only made him feel worse.
John limped to the pharmacy and found some gauze. He sat down carefully in the aisle, rolled up his pant leg, and cleaned around the broken skin. While he held a hand on the hole in his leg, he tried to open a bottle of iodine, but failed miserably. He tried again, and managed to pop the cap off. He poured the liquid on the hole in his leg. It stung, and his face was tight with pain. After that, he wrapped the wound with gauze. John sat in the aisle for almost an hour, surrounded by Band-Aids, gauze, and spilled iodine.
Hunger set in, so he made to his feet, took everything he’d used, and limped with it to a cart that had been abandoned with several food items inside. John set the partially used iodine and gauze into the child seat of the cart and pushed it to the express register he’d left open.
The register beeped as he ran the chips, bread, medical supplies, and everything else across the scanner. He cringed with every beep. His head was throbbing, and then he realized he could use some pain pills for that, so he limped back to the pharmacy, grabbed some, and then headed back to complete his order.
He spent the next hour or so in the cafeteria. John picked the farthest table back, a round booth near the window with the shade closed on the setting sun. He made a few sandwiches and listened to the stillness of the store, accompanied by muffled moans of the zombies outside. He leaned back (feeling a slight surge of pain run up his leg) and belched.
After throwing his silverware in one of the sinks in the dish room, John wandered to the front end. He moved the pallets of Pepsi away from the automatic doors. After that, he walked the store, unlocking the other exits. The last one he unlocked, at the end of a short hall, led out to the employee parking lot. A phone hung on the wall beside the door. John grabbed the phone with a cold, shaky grip and dialed 70. A soft tone emitted in the receiver, and John breathed raggedly over the intercom. He had a smile on his face.
“It looks really grim out there folks, but I just want to make sure all of my customers still have access to the only Ferrington in Gladstone. I’m glad we’ve decided to re-open our doors. You mean a lot to me, and I want to make sure you have everything you need.”
John hung up the phone. The door to the outside was just a few steps away. He opened it and stepped partially out. There were no zombies in sight. John gripped the door jamb and stepped out farther.
“I’m not going out there, you fucking bastards! If you want me, you have to come get me!”
John stood there for a moment, looking from side to side. He still saw no zombies. He waited a good minute before sighing and closing the door. Then, he began the long, lonesome walk back up to the conference room.
****
John remembered the phone call that changed everything. He had ducked for cover behind the customer service counter, and then the phone rang. Even on that day, surrounded by chaos, he had answered after the first ring. It was his son.
“Dad… Dad, can you hear me?” He could hear the fear in Vince’s voice.
“Vince, what’s wrong? Are you and your mom all right?”
“I’m fine, it’s Mom. She’s been bitten. What’s happening, Dad? What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know,” John said. “I wish I did, but I don’t! How bad is she?”
“Bad.”
“It hurts,” Carol said, barely louder than a whisper.
“Shh,” Vince said. “Don’t waste your energy. An ambulance will be here soon. Dad, are you going to be able to get here?”
John heard his stutter crackle over the phone. “I-I don’t think so. Not right away.”
“Mom?” Vince said, then he let out a blood-curdling scream.
“Vince! Are you okay?”
There was a lot of muffled commotion on the other end of the phone, and then Vince returned, breathing heavily. “Mom’s… Mom’s gone. She bit me, and I don’t have a lot of time. I love you, Dad.”
“No,” John said. “You don’t know that! Don’t say that!”
“I saw how long it took Mom to become the same as the thing that bit her!”
“This can’t be it! No! No!”
But that was it. Now John looked around the empty conference room at the things left behind by the other survivors who had stayed there.
“Why couldn’t I have been there? Why do I deserve this?”
****
John sat at the conference room table with the light on and a bottle of water held loosely in his right hand. He had been awake for hours. He checked his watch. It was 6:34 a.m. John took a sip from the water bottle and then set it down, rubbing his stubble-covered face with both hands. He sat there for another half hour, slowly finishing his water, letting his thoughts work themselves out.
I think I know what I need to do.
John smiled a broken smile. After that, he turned the light off and went back to sleep.
****
Just before 10 a.m., John woke up. It was the latest he’d woken up in a long time. He felt rested, almost good. He went down to the store. His leg still hurt, but limping made it easier.
John collected a small amount of food and water in a basket, and also took his knife and kept it in his pocket. When he had everything he needed, he headed for the south entrance. He went through the door without paying for any of it.
He stood in front of a bench that faced away from the window and peered out. It looked scary out there. There were groups of zombies wandering around in front of the store.
The side door whined as John exited through it into the drive-up lane. It was covered by a huge brick overhang. Once he made it past that, he saw a beautiful, nearly cloudless blue sky. It felt great to breathe in the fresh morning air.
John headed for his car, which was parked in the employee parking lot. He didn’t see many zombies on this side of the store; those he did see were too far away to be a bother. John sat down, turned the car on, and drove toward the Liberty Ferrington.
Less than half an hour later, his car pulled into a nearly deserted parking lot, and he parked as close to the door as possible. John thought about the knife in his pocket, but figured it wouldn’t be as efficient a weapon as he might need. He remembered his golf clubs in the trunk; he’d gone just about every weekend, bringing his family if he could.
John popped the trunk and climbed out of his car. He reached for his golf bag and grabbed his 9 iron. John rubbed the shiny blunt end for a moment, and then hurried inside.
The first place John had in mind was customer service. He went around the counter, but found nothing. He looked around. From where he was standing the building looked mostly empty, but there were a lot of places to hide.
As he went around the customer service counter, John saw a zombie wandering close to the pharmacy. It was almost as if it were browsing the aisles. John stepped on a broken bottle. The loud crunch alerted the zombie.
The zombie hobbled quickly toward the sound, and John looked for a place to hide, but there was no use. The zombie had definitely seen him. Its face was snarled and bloody. The man it used to be wasn’t quite as tall as John, but was younger. Still, John wasn’t afraid. He swung the club hard, as if it were a baseball bat, and hit the young male zombie in the face. It fell to the floor, down but not out. John backed up a little and smashed the club into the zombie’s left temple. The zombie collapsed, and didn’t move after that. Blood leaked out of its head onto the floor. John breathed heavily and looked down at his white shirt. It was decorated with speckles of red.
John moved on to check the break room, then Vince’s office, and then all of
the departments. He took a side trip when he got to the pharmacy. Beyond the counter he found the small orange bottle he was looking for, put it into his pocket for later, and then resumed his search.
He found Carol in wine and spirits. He looked down at her partially eaten body. Her eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling. John wept for his wife for a moment, and then heard something farther off, behind him. It sounded like something had been knocked over. He turned around and saw the entrance to the wine and spirits storage room.
John sneaked over to the doorway and entered. Not far into the room was Vince. He was hunched over a corpse, eating the near-rotting flesh of what was probably once a female bagger. John turned away, fighting back tears. He even thought of forgetting his mission and going back, but he decided he’d come too far to do that.
He would have called out his son’s name if it was his son, but this creature no longer was. Vince was gone. This was only a deranged humanoid, at best.
“Hey, thing!” John said. He smacked a nearby metal shelf several times. The loud metallic cracking sound got Vince’s attention. He saw John and grunted excitedly, then jumped up and shambled toward John. John glared through fiery tears and readied the golf club. When Vince got close, John swung as hard as he could. Vince crashed to the floor, bleeding and motionless.
Tears came down as John found something in which to wrap Vince and Carol. He moved them out of the store one at a time via a cart he’d found in wine and spirits, then loaded them into his car. He drove off with the perfect burial place in mind.
There was a spot where John and Carol would take Vince when he was younger: Watkins Mill. They would walk around for hours at that old mill, they’d sit and have a picnic in the field, feel the breeze and the warm sun shining down on them. Many times, they’d sit under a weeping willow, especially if it was hot. It was the perfect way to spend an afternoon, and this made it a wonderful place to bury his family. They could be there forever.
Watkins Mill was never busy, so it was completely empty when John got there after a fairly lengthy drive that was made longer by blocked and crowded roads. He drove to the spot he felt was the best.
The tree’s drooping limbs swayed in an untainted breeze. John knew he could be all alone with his family here. He smiled as he surveyed his sanctuary.
He buried them under the willow, and then used his knife to shave away some of the bark, inscribing their names in the tree’s flesh. When he was finished, he sat down between the shallow graves, the shovel sticking out of the ground next to him. John leaned against the tree for quite a while, feeling the cool breeze. Next to him was the plastic pill bottle. It rested on its side, empty.
John looked up into the tree’s branches. He could see little crevices where sky poked through. John sighed, the sweat beneath his white dress shirt dripped down his body. He felt hot and sleepy, so he decided to lean his head against the tree, close his eyes, and let the breeze cool him down a little.
44
On the Other Side of the Bridge
“Okay guys,” Dex said. “Best Seattle band.”
The group was heading northeast along Kingston Ferry Road. They had left the bridge behind them, and the twisting forest trail had put it out of sight. The cars were still numerous, and the survivors had decided to wait until traffic thinned down before trying to find a few they could take to Seattle.
“And don’t everybody say Nirvana.”
“Death Cab For Cutie,” Lacie said.
“Death what for what?” Garrett said.
“I think I’d have to say Nirvana,” Jessi said.
“I’ve always been partial to Queensrÿche,” Kyle said.
“Who?” Layne asked.
“I don’t know what any of you are talking about,” Warren said.
“Aw, come on,” Dex said, “you have to have heard of Nirvana, at least. Or Alice in—”
Layne stopped walking and raised his hand for silence.
The fog was much thinner, but didn’t show any signs of going away. It was dark out, and beyond the first line of trees beside the road, it was nearly impossible to make anything out. To the right was nothing but water, but there was road in front and behind, and to their left was a gigantic forest.
“Did you hear something?” Garrett asked.
“I don’t know,” Layne said. “I can’t say, for sure.”
“Maybe it’s best if we keep quiet, guys. There may be more of them in those trees.”
The group went on. Every sound made them jump, but most were passed off as branches in the wind or a bird taking flight. There was, of course, the occasional sound that remained inexplicable.
It was getting cold. Most of the group was still wearing wet clothes, and Layne could tell this would be a problem. Just as he started a list of solutions in his head, he heard a shuffling sound from the forest up ahead. He stopped walking, and everyone else did as well.
“What was that?” Katie asked.
“I don’t know,” Layne said. “But maybe it’s time for us to get into some cars and drive.”
There was another shuffle, this one louder.
“Good idea,” Garrett said.
The group had lost many of their guns in the fall, and most of their ammunition had been discarded near the bridge, rendered useless by the water. Most of the zombies had been killed by the blast or attracted to the fire, and the stragglers had been taken care of. But the survivors were far from that now, and Layne feared that the group didn’t have enough ammo to get them to Seattle, much less to keep them safe in such a big city.
“This one has a key!” Lacie said, standing next to a minivan. “And it’s an eight-seater.”
“That means our second vehicle can be just about anything,” Layne said.
“So long as it’s not a motorcycle,” Garrett said.
“Well, damn,” Warren said, smiling.
“Here’s one,” Jessi said. She was pointing to a small car about twenty feet behind the first.
“Okay, let’s split up,” Layne said. “These cars may need to last us all the way to Seattle, or at least the outskirts.”
“In other words, don’t get in a car with anyone you can’t stand,” Garrett said. Dex laughed. Layne figured he would have as well, had he not been scared out of his mind by the now eerily absent shuffling they had heard.
“Katie will need to be in the first car, since she knows the way,” Layne said.
“What do you mean?” Katie asked. The others looked at her.
“You have family in Seattle, right?” Garrett said.
“Yeah, but I’ve never driven there, especially not from Astoria. I have no idea how to get to Seattle from here. And once we’re there, I really only know how to get to my girlfriend’s house.”
“Girlfriend?” Ralph said. He sounded shocked and offended.
“Shut up, that isn’t important right now,” Kyle said.
“Not important? The fate of her immortal soul isn’t important?”
“Hey, shut the fuck up for a second,” Garrett said. “I think I hear something.”
Garrett had a way of saying things that should’ve sounded offensive, but never did. And in this case, it worked. Everyone was quiet. The shuffling was loud now, and more continuous.
“I think we may have a friend,” Layne said. “Let’s just drive along this road and see where it takes us, for the time being. We’ll worry about the details when we get somewhere safer.”
“And warmer, preferably,” Warren said. “It’s getting cold out here.”
“Good idea,” Garrett said.
“I’ll take the minivan,” Layne said.
“I’ll come with you,” Katie said. “For all we know, we’ll be in these cars until we get to Seattle, so I guess it is best if I’m in whichever car is leading. Who knows? Maybe I’ll catch my bearings somewhere.”
“I’ll take the small car,” Garrett said. “Should be easy to follow you guys.”
“I don’t want to be separated from
Mom and Dad,” Dex said. “So I’m going in the minivan.”
“Me too,” Lacie said soon after.
“You all are making me feel so loved,” Garrett said.
“I’ll be glad to keep you company,” Warren said.
“I think I’ll ride in the minivan,” Ralph said. The others looked at him.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Garrett asked. He was thinking about what Ralph had said to Katie just a few minutes earlier.
“Positive. Yeah. I mean, it’s my choice, isn’t it? I want to ride in the minivan.”
“Then I will, too,” Kyle said.
“Kara and I will go with Garrett, then,” Jessi said.
“Okay. Any last revisions?” Garrett asked.
A moan came out of the trees nearby.
“I think we should probably just go,” Layne said. “Now.”
The groups checked the vehicles for any threats, then they got inside, and were off.
After a few minutes of driving, the last remaining cars faded out of sight, and, except for the random car every few miles, the road was clear. The sky was almost black, and both drivers relied on their high beams for vision. It was getting even colder, and Warren was the only one wearing dry clothes. Even though both cars had their heaters on, some of the survivors were shivering.
“Maybe we should’ve grabbed some clothes off of some… people who don’t need them anymore,” Garrett said. “Kara isn’t looking so good.”
Despite being quiet, Kara was shaking uncontrollably.
“You okay, honey?” Jessi asked.
Kara looked up at her. She seemed tired. “I’m cold.”
“Here,” Warren said. He took off his shirt, turned to the back seat, and handed it to Jessi. “The kid’s going to get hypothermia if she doesn’t get out of those clothes and into something dry. It’s way too big, but it’s dry, and it’ll keep her covered.”