In the Lone and Level Sands

by David Lovato

  “I hate to sound insincere,” Garrett said, “but we need to get the fuck out of here.”

  With many of the barricades open, zombies were heading for the intersection.

  With a heave, Kyle lifted a piece of bleacher, and Dex pulled Ralph free. Ralph hadn’t been the only one under there; a zombie reached out from the rubble and sank its teeth into Kyle’s arm. Kyle screamed, and dropped the bleacher. A pile of rubble it had been supporting came tumbling down, burying Kyle’s entire lower half.

  “Fuck!” Dex said. Layne forced himself to move, and rushed over to help.

  “Help, help me!” Kyle said. “Get me out of—Aah!”

  No one could see, but they all knew that the zombie was still alive beneath the rubble, glad to be trapped with a fresh meal. Kyle screamed.

  “Get him out of there!” Layne said. Ralph and Dex tried to move the bleachers, but nothing seemed to budge more than an inch or two. Garrett grabbed a beam and lifted, but it hardly moved.

  “It’s eating me, it’s killing me!” Kyle said. Everyone had rushed to his aid, except for Jessi, who remained where she was, sitting on the pavement.

  Warren jammed a gun into the nearest crack he could find. Garrett saw what he was doing, and lifted the beam again. Warren had a bit of space, and opened fire. He emptied the gun into the crack.

  Kyle had broken into tears. He was no longer screaming, but blood was trickling out of a gap and along one of the beams, where it fell to the ground below. Whether it was Kyle’s, the zombie’s, or both, Layne didn’t know. He tried to lift the rubble off of Kyle.

  “Kyle, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” Ralph was saying. Kyle shut his eyes tightly, cried, and reached for Ralph’s hand. Ralph looked almost reluctant, but took it, and squeezed.

  “Kyle, we’re going to get you out of there,” Layne said.

  Kyle shook his head. “Don’t you get it? It’s over! It’s over. I’m a dead man. I’m dead now, Layne.”

  The others exchanged glances. Keely looked away, and then her eyes widened, and she screamed “No!”

  Jessi, who had crawled over to where the majority of Kara had come to stop, was cradling a bloody, hairy mass in one arm, and reaching for a gun with the other.

  “Jessi, stop!” Layne said. He hesitated, torn between Kyle and Jessi. He never moved. Jessi put the gun to her head and pulled the trigger.

  As his knees hit the ground, his skin scraped and began to bleed. Layne wished it had been different. He wished she would’ve blamed him, turned the gun on him, and killed him instead. His hands touched the ground, his tears poured onto the pavement, mixed with rain that began to fall with no warning.

  Layne looked at the mess lying on the ground before him, saw mother and daughter folded together, permanently asleep, passed on to a world far better than this one could ever be or had ever been.

  When he returned to Kyle, the rain was falling harder. Kyle was struggling to keep it from entering his mouth. Ralph spread his shirt out in a sort of shield.

  “I don’t want to be one of them,” Kyle said.

  “Okay,” Layne replied. He found a pistol nearby. He looked at the others. Most turned away. “I’m sorry.” The words felt trivial, they felt empty and meaningless. He wished he hadn’t said them.

  “Layne, we… We agreed to do this. We agreed to follow you.” It didn’t help.

  “Guys,” Layne said, “take what you need. Find weapons. I’ll meet you outside. You don’t have to see this.”

  “Wait,” Kyle said. “Ralph, will you stay with me? Will you do it?”

  Ralph looked up at the sky. He choked down his sadness and said, “Yeah, Kyle. I’ll stay. I’ll do it.”

  “I don’t want to die alone.”

  The others said their goodbyes, then walked down the nearest street. The remaining torch light faded as they went, and they disappeared into darkness.

  Kyle’s skin was already turning pale. “Do you want to say something?” Layne asked Ralph. Ralph stared at his friend.

  “Can you leave us alone?” Ralph said. Layne nodded, and walked down the street to join the others. “Kyle.”

  “Yeah.” Kyle could barely talk. Ralph closed his eyes.

  “I’ll see you in the next life.”

  Ralph pulled the trigger, and the gun clicked.

  He took a deep breath. He began to walk backwards.

  “Don’t,” Kyle said. “Don’t leave me. Don’t let me die alone.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ralph said. He looked around for something, anything. He looked back at Kyle, whose eyes had closed. When they opened again, they were different, they were empty. Kyle thrashed and groaned.

  Ralph saw the others at the end of the street. They were all staring at something on the ground. The darkness enveloped him, and his eyes tried to adjust. Ralph felt cold. He felt alone. He joined his friends and saw that they were looking at a large message spray painted on the ground.

  GOD IS DEAD

  Layne looked at Ralph. He put his hand on Ralph’s shoulder.

  “He held my hand,” Ralph finally said. “He reached for my hand, he didn’t want to be alone.” He tried not to choke. “And for a moment, just a tiny, short little moment, all I could think about was how wrong it was for two men to hold hands.”

  “Ralph,” Layne said. He put a hand on Ralph’s shoulder. “Nobody is going to blame you for—”

  “I am!” Ralph tore away from Layne’s hand. “I’ll never forget this! My friend died! He needed me, but my head got stuck someplace it’s been my whole life, while his was ending right in front of me!”

  “Ralph,” Katie said. Ralph dropped to his knees, crying. The rain came down harder. Time went by.

  “They’re wrong, you know,” Ralph said. He sniffed hard and stood up, rubbing his eyes with his entire sleeve. “Whoever wrote it is wrong.” Lightning struck in the distance, a roll of thunder echoed past. “God isn’t dead. He’s laughing.”

  65

  In the Fort Knox Infirmary

  Evan felt every surge of pain from the wound in his abdomen as he lay in the recovery room, but it had been dulled by the medication coursing through his body. The pain would pass; he was glad to be alive.

  He looked down at his torso, which was covered in bandages. A spot of red showed faintly through. Soon, Dr. Faulkner walked into the room.

  “How’re you feeling?” he asked.

  “I’m feeling fine, now.” Evan chuckled as if to drive the point home.

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “So, will I be able to leave today?”

  “Yes, actually. I can clear you now. Just try to take it easy, Mr. Jacobson.” Evan nodded and sat up. “We’ll have some clothes in here for you to change into momentar—”

  “Good morning, Daddy!” Mal said as she and Cynthia entered the room.

  “Morning, Mal!” Evan extended his arms and hugged her. Cynthia turned her head to Dr. Faulkner.

  “Does he have to stay in here much longer, Doctor?”

  “No, he’s all ready,” Dr. Faulkner said with a smile. “He’s still got some healing to do, but he can leave right now if he feels up to it.” Evan nodded.

  ****

  “I can’t believe where we are, what we’ve done,” Evan said. The eight survivors sat in a circle in the rec room. “It’s amazing really. I mean, not in a good way, but in a million years I never would’ve dreamt up anything like this.”

  “We’re lucky to be alive,” Cynthia said.

  “A lot’s changed in such a small amount of time,” Vanessa said. “I thought I wanted to stay when my husband was bitten. I guess we think a lot of silly things in the heat of the moment, don’t we?”

  “Not silly,” Daisy replied. “Interesting things. The type of stuff that wouldn’t come to us under different circumstances. I don’t think it was silly of you to want to stay by your husband’s side.”

  “Thanks.”

  Stephanie and Jason were sitting close to each other. At on
e point, Jason locked fingers with Stephanie. “Some are good,” he said. He looked at Stephanie, then the rest of the group. Stephanie didn’t say anything, but smiled. “I know it’s kinda bad to say, but if none of this had happened, I’d never have met Stephanie.”

  “You could have gotten into an accident back in Chicago,” Daisy said, “and then your princess in flashing lights would’ve come to the rescue. You’d be the guy to pretend to be unconscious to get mouth-to-mouth.” She laughed.

  “I wouldn’t doubt it. I wanted to try that since seeing The Sandlot as a kid, but I never got the chance. The lifeguard was always some oily guy.” Stephanie laughed.

  “I wondered when you would say something,” Evan said. “I’ve seen how you two are.”

  “Well, here it is,” Jason said. “No secrets anymore.” He grinned. Evan smiled, looking from Jason and Stephanie back to Cynthia.

  ****

  It was July 2nd. A zombie, once a middle-aged, heavyset woman, wandered close to one of the entrances. She uttered curious, uneven grunts as she heard men laughing, talking, and other noises just beyond the door. The zombie stumbled slowly toward it. Her feet were bare, nearly black from dirt and congealed blood, and left faint bloody footprints along the way.

  A few other zombies in close proximity also picked up on the noise, and began hobbling along. One was a lost soldier, another an elderly man with a medium-length white beard caked with dried blood. The three zombies moved toward the door, with the fat one leading.

  The soldiers inside were off duty and were drinking. Adrian was there, sitting in a chair in a corner of the room with a bottle of Jack. He swigged a mouthful, felt the burn, and let the magic happen. He thought about his best friend. Sean was in one of the Fort Knox cells, and it was his fault. Partly, at least. He hadn’t seen the signs. He knew Sean was going through a rut, hell, a chasm, but he didn’t do anything but keep his distance. He wasn’t there for Sean, and Sean had snapped. There wasn’t a whole lot for Sean, now. Adrian took another blast.

  Clark and Aimes were both present. Clark had always been the life of the party, and he needed some fun. Aimes, however, was there because he was thinking about Julie and his baby-to-be a lot more often since his talk with Cynthia and Vanessa. He couldn’t help feeling depressed, almost enough to make him believe there was no hope for them after all. So, he had taken a few sips of a beer, and that had turned into a full can, then another. Soon Aimes was feeling pretty good, and Clark was entirely gone.

  “I’m glad—” Aimes said, his words slurring. “Glad that I came ov—er here, man!”

  “See, it’s just,” Clark said. Then he appeared to have lost his train of thought, but soon caught it. “Soooo much more fun if you let yourself slip a little… A little bit. You gotta have some fun from time to time, or else…” Clark formed a gun with his hand, put it against his head, and pulled the trigger. His mouth made a loud and very unrealistic gunshot effect.

  “That’s right, Clark!” Aimes said with a sloppy grin on his face. Seeing how drunk Clark was, Aimes decided to make his current beer the last of the night, though Clark seemed to have more powerful demons inside him that needed killing.

  After a few minutes, Clark’s eyes began to water.

  “Hey, buddy,” Aimes said. “What’s eatin’ you up?”

  “Nah. Nothing, man.”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit, Clark. Tell me… Tell me. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m just thinking about my girlfriend. I did… everything to save her! But there… there was nothing I could do!”

  “Don’t blame yourself.”

  “It’s so hard.”

  “I’m sorry, man,” Aimes said, being as sincere as a drunk man could. Clark began to cry.

  There was a sound at the door. Clark looked up with bloodshot, tear-filled eyes. “Who’s that at the door?”

  “I-I don’t know.”

  “We can’t let anyb-body else die because of these crazy pe-people,” Clark said. He stood up and took a few wobbly steps toward the door.

  “Be careful,” Aimes said. He stood up and followed Clark. Clark cracked the door and looked outside.

  “You guys n-need a place to wait this shit out?” he said. He didn’t even notice the blood, the blank stares, or the way they were moving.

  “Hrnnnnnnn?” the fat zombie said.

  “Place to stay!”

  “Dejehhh!” The fat lady’s eyes narrowed, realizing there was food, and lots of it.

  “Clark, I don’t think these are—”

  The fat woman shoved through the door and tackled Clark. He screamed as she dug into his neck, pulling out muscle, tendons, and skin in one bite. Blood sprayed from Clark’s neck like a sprinkler. The other soldiers turned to the sound, and Aimes drew his gun and fired at her head, right on top. Blood splashed out just as she was going in for another bite, and she collapsed on top of Clark.

  “Shit!” a soldier farther off said. He pulled out a gun and approached. “What happened?” He shot one of the other zombies, who was trying to get in on Clark. Aimes shot the old man zombie. Another soldier closed and locked the door.

  “I-I don’t know. I gotta—” Aimes went to his knees, found handholds on the woman’s body, and tried to push it off his friend.

  “Hurry,” Clark said. “I d-don’t wanna die under this bitch!”

  Aimes looked down at his friend with a big tear-ridden grin, but Aimes wasn’t happy. He didn’t mean to smile. He was horrified and he felt like God had played a cruel trick on him.

  “I’m doing it, I’m t-trying.” Aimes looked up at one of the other soldiers. Most of them were gawking. “Go get help!”

  Finally, Aimes succeeded in moving the body off of Clark. When it hit the floor, it made a soft thud! The zombie’s eyes were open and stared blankly at the ceiling. Aimes put a hand to Clark’s neck, trying his best to stop the blood.

  “No,” Clark said, then coughed blood over his already bloody uniform. “No time. Just off me here, man. Sides, I-I wouldn’t be a good zombie.”

  “Don’t be stupid! You know I can’t… I can’t do that!” Aimes sat there, hovering over his fading friend, unsure of when Clark would turn. “You’re gonna be fine, buddy! You’re gonna be all right!”

  “Please… This, this hurts, Matt. You know there’s n-nothing anyone can do.” Through the drunken, crazy, emotional haze, Aimes was probed by his friend’s words, Clark calling him by his first name. He hadn’t done that since sometime back in middle school. Clark was serious, he just wanted out. And since Aimes wasn’t responding quickly enough, Clark began drawing his own sidearm.

  “No! No, I’ll do it. You don’t have to do it.”

  “Thanks. Just promise me something. Take care of your-yourself, okay?”

  “I will.” Aimes lowered his weapon to the left side of Clark’s head. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew he had to. “Later days.” With the barrel of the gun pressed to Clark’s temple, he sat there for a moment, and then Clark’s eyes changed. He let out a shriek and jerked toward Aimes, mouth agape. Aimes shut his eyes, and then a shot rang louder than he wished it had, and Clark fell silent.

  Aimes fell back on his rear, discarded the gun, and wept.

  ****

  “Are you all right, honey?” Cynthia looked down at Mal, who was not even picking at her food.

  “I don’t feel very good,” Mal said.

  “Where does it hurt, honey? Stomach?”

  “Yeah, it really hurts.”

  “What was the last thing you ate, hon?” Daisy asked.

  “A ham sandwich last night, with some chips.”

  “Come here, let me feel your head.” Mal turned, and groaned a bit. Cynthia placed the palm of her hand on Mal’s forehead. “Oh, you’ve got a bit of a temperature. You might have a bug.”

  “I feel like I might throw up.” Mal closed her eyes and waited for the contents of her stomach to shoot out of her, but they didn’t. Cynthia turned to Evan as he appro
ached with a tray of food and sat down.

  “Looks like Mallorie’s got the stomach flu,” she said.

  “Oh, really? Do you feel like you’ll throw up, Mal?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, let’s get you to a bathroom before you do!” Evan put a guiding hand on Mal’s back, and she stood up. They walked out of the mess hall, to the nearest bathroom. Mal groaned every couple of seconds, and as soon as they entered the bathroom, she hurried to the closest toilet and kneeled in front of it. She heaved and made a horrible grunting sound.

  Mal reared back from the toilet. She looked up, her hair falling onto her shoulders.

  “How do you feel now?” Evan asked. “Pretty good, I bet.”

  They walked out of the bathroom after flushing the mess away. Everyone looked up as they returned.

  “Doing okay there, Mally?” Jason said.

  “Yep! I feel like I could eat a pig, now!”

  “Well, until you feel better, you should wait on that,” Cynthia said.

  “I will.”

  “Tonight, we’ll get you some crackers or something and see if you can hold that down.”

  “Oh, mom, that’s so boring!” Daisy said.

  Cynthia laughed. “Don’t encourage her!”

  Jared and June were walking up to Evan’s table. June hovered slightly behind Jared.

  “Do you mind if my mom and I sit here?” Jared asked.

  “Not at all,” Evan replied.

  “Thanks.” Jared sat across from Evan, next to Eugene, who was finishing his soup. June sat down by her son.

  “Hello everyone,” she said. She turned to Eugene. “Sir, I apologize—”

  “P-please, there’s no need, ma’am,” Eugene said. “All is forgiven.”

  “Thank you.” June started eating.

  “Where are you guys from?” Jared asked. “All from Chicago?”

  “Yeah,” Evan said. “We were at my daughter’s ballet recital at a theater called the Belmont. It went to hell fast. Thanks to Stephanie here, we were able to get away in an ambulance.” Evan pointed to her with his thumb.