“Yeah, it was a cool, shiny black one. It was pretty.”
Rachel smiled and touched the child’s head, “Yeah, it is a cool jacket isn’t it? My Mom gave that to me for my birthday.”
“Your birthday? When did you have that?”
“About two weeks ago.”
“Did you go to Chuck E. Cheese?”
Smiling and laughing a little, Rachel answered, “No, I guess I missed out, huh?”
“Yeah, they got the best pizza and have you ever played skeet ball?”
“Yeah, I think I have.”
“That’s the best, and then you get tickets and you can go get cool stuff at the shop. Last time we went, I didn’t have enough tickets to get the purse and make-up that I wanted so Marty gave me some of his tickets. Danny did too. I still have the purse but I used up all the make-up.”
“Did you have fun?”
“Uh huh. But it wasn’t my birthday then. We just went because we’d all been good and Mom said that if we were good and quiet on Saturday then we could go on Sunday as a treat.”
“I guess you were good then.”
“Yeah. If you didn’t go to Chuck E. Cheese, then where did you go?”
“My Mom took me out to dinner at a place called Glacier Brewhouse. We had a really nice dinner and we talked and talked. It’s nice just to sit and talk with your Mom sometimes.” Feeling herself start to get emotional, Rachel turned away and said, “Well, my Mom gave me the jacket that night. She knew that I wanted it but knew that I’d never buy it for myself. She just wanted me to have it.”
“I’ll help you find it.”
“Thanks kid...Jules, I mean.”
“You’re welcome. My Mom always asks me ‘Where do you remember seeing it last?’”
Crying now, Rachel said, “Mine too, Jules. Mine too.”
They looked upstairs and down but could not locate it. They even looked out in the garage, despite the fact that Rachel couldn’t remember the last time that she’d even been in there. Someone may have moved it and set it in there by mistake. They looked and looked but in the end came up empty handed.
It was early afternoon by then and things had started to settle down. Most of the activity in the house was happening, not surprisingly, around the fire. There wasn’t anything specific that was happening really, they were just hanging out and waiting, activities that had become the mainstay of their day-to-day lives.
Emma wasn’t in the room. She was down the hall in one of the bedrooms. She was still angry and hurt by what had happened between her and Officer Ivanoff. She couldn’t be in the same room with him anymore. She was frankly concerned that she wouldn’t be able to control herself around him anymore and fly off in a rage that might just leave him dead. She was carrying one of the pistols that Neil had scavenged from Fred Meyer. It was a smallish silver revolver that smelled of oil and was somewhat heavy in her hand. Deep down, she hoped that he’d try it again and she could stop him permanently. As it was, she just avoided being around him. She figured that was just the safest thing for all of them because she knew that a gunshot would certainly give their sanctuary away. She wouldn’t, however, hesitate to use the gun, regardless of consequences, if he ever came at her like that again.
For his part, Officer Ivanoff was downstairs alone in the darkness of the boarded up family room, staring at the blank television screen. He was remembering past football games that he’d watched on his own television. He missed his ritual. Living in Alaska, he’d grown accustomed to the fact that NFL games started early in the morning. The hassle of having to wake early on Sunday mornings to catch the games, especially Seattle Seahawks games, wore off after a very short time.
Sitting down in the dimly lit basement family room, he was suddenly startled to see his youthful cousin sitting comfortably with his feet up on the couch. His boyish frame and smiling face appeared exceptionally comfortable on the small couch. His father was there too, standing in the doorway with a bag of his favorite chips, Lays Barbecue. The Seahawks had the ball and were all set to snap. The three of them held their breath while they watched Hasselbeck scramble behind his defensive line. He couldn’t seem to be able to find a target and then he saw him; a streaking receiver running along the sideline. He arched back and tossed the ball, a perfect spiral, into the air.
Malachi could feel his heart begin to race. Would he catch that pass? It seemed like such a long shot. If he did though, it was smooth sailing all the way to the end zone. He looked over at his cousin. He was chewing feverishly on his snack of choice, Slim Jim beef sticks. He returned Malachi’s stare and smiled.
When he looked back, the television wasn’t on anymore. He was back in the dark room. His father was gone, as was his cousin. Malachi was alone again. He stood up from the recliner and moved to the small couch. He touched where his cousin had been sitting and felt around for any evidence that he or anyone had been there. The fabric was cold and the empty wrappers from the beef sticks weren’t there anymore either. He massaged his sweaty forehead and temples, trying to will away the doubt and confusion. They had been here with him, but how? And where were they now?
He sat down on the couch and about screamed when he looked over and saw his father sitting in the Lazyboy recliner. “What’s wrong Mal?”
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, buddy. I’m here. What’s wrong?”
“I...I...but how...where...aren’t you...?”
“Just like you, Mal. Can’t put together a single thought and get it out of your mouth. Nothing’s changed has it?”
With his eyes as wide as his mouth, Malachi looked around. The game was gone from the television and his cousin was still absent, but his father was definitely there.
“How long have you been here, Daddy?”
“What do you mean by that, little man?”
“You know I don’t like it when you call me that.”
“Father’s right I guess.”
“Why are you here?”
His father, still watching the blank television screen, asked, “Why are you?”
“What do you mean? We had to come here or else we would have been...”
“Would have been what? Have you been a bad boy again?”
“No, Daddy. I just...we just...”
“You and your friends haven’t been setting fires again have you?”
“No, Daddy. I’ve been a good boy.”
“You’d better. Remember what happened to your cousin at the school?”
“Yes, Daddy, I remember. I haven’t been playing with matches. I learned my lesson. You don’t have to...”
There was a long pause during which Malachi looked around the room again. When he looked back at the recliner, his father was gone. Malachi’s childhood uncertainty, long forgotten and set aside, was still there, though. The soreness of bruises from decades ago returned to his arms and shoulders; he could almost feel the knuckle indentations on his skin.
He heard a voice again but couldn’t make it out clearly. He heard it again. He looked around trying to figure out from where it was coming. He couldn’t make out the words, let alone their source. He held his breath and concentrated.
“Officer? Officer? Are you hungry?”
He opened his clinched eyes and saw a big Asian guy standing in the doorway now. It took a second more before he recognized the man as Tony from upstairs. He looked at the man for a good long while. He bit his lower lip, chewing on the raw, chapped skin there.
Tony waited a moment longer and then entered the seemingly subterranean room. It felt like a dungeon down there. The meager light coming in around the edges of the plywood covering the outside of the window barely provided any illumination at all. He was afraid that he might be disturbing or even waking the man. Though he couldn’t see him well, Tony could sense a degree of uncertainty in the other man’s body language. He stalled a second or two longer, hoping that the other man would speak up or at least acknowledge his presence in the room.
“Are you okay
?”
Officer Ivanoff finally leaned back and said, “I’m good.”
“You hungry?”
“Naw, I’m good. If I get hungry, I’ll come up.”
“D’you want some company down here?”
Shaking his head, “Naw, I’m good.”
“Okay. You need anything, just holler.”
At that, Tony went back upstairs. He found Dr. Caldwell sitting in the kitchen with Emma, Neil, and Meghan. Tony leaned into the wall and waited for the discussion to come to a pause, at which point he could interrupt. They were talking about what they had seen and where. The doctor was describing the numerous police barricades they’d seen while they flew over them in the helicopter. Neil had an Anchorage city street map on the table and was moving it around to mark the locations of each of these failed barricades. They were trying to plot probable escape routes and identify alternate routes around possible roadblocks and problem spots.
Finally, Tony couldn’t wait anymore. He looked over his shoulder to make sure that he was only talking with the four people at the table. “Guys, I don’t know if that cop downstairs is doing alright.”
A knowing smile spread across Emma’s face and she said acidly, “That guy only wears a cop uniform. He’s nowhere near being an actual cop. No cops I’ve ever known would or even could do the things that he’s done.”
Dr. Caldwell understood Emma’s comment, but everyone else’s faces were questioning. Emma was about to clarify for all of them when she caught the doctor’s eyes and thought better of it. She accepted the fact that there would be a more appropriate place for Malachi to have to answer for what he tried to do to her, and for his cowardly behavior. She didn’t like it, but she did trust Dr. Caldwell’s judgment.
Dr. Caldwell looked at Tony and asked for him to elaborate.
“Well, I was down there with him for a few seconds but I don’t think he knew that I was there. He was looking right at me but he just didn’t know. And then, when he did realize that someone was in the room with him, I don’t think that he knew that it was me. I mean, I’ve seen some blank stares in my time and even some nasty glares, but he was totally...absent.”
Caldwell asked, “What was he doing?”
“Nothing. Just sitting there watching a blank TV screen.”
“Did he threaten you or appear to be a danger to himself?”
“No. He just didn’t seem right to me.”
“It’s probably just exhaustion. Give him some room and if he wants to stay down there by himself, well, we’ll just have to accommodate him on that one. Let’s all keep an eye on him, though.”
Emma added, “Yeah, we don’t need a Columbine or Virginia Tech on our hands.”
With that comment, Neil was suddenly concerned about the presence of the newcomers. He could tell that there was something more going on, especially with Emma, but he wasn’t sure what it was. He needed to know because they couldn’t afford any surprises. There just wasn’t any room for problems in their little sanctuary.
Forgetting about his unease when he was downstairs, Tony began to munch on a can of Hormel chili that had been cooked in the fire. He asked, “So what’s going on?”
Neil started to explain that they were just trying to prepare for contingencies, when he was interrupted by a quiet, but clearly audible electronic tone that repeated and repeated and repeated. It was a cell phone. It was Rachel’s cell phone. She realized it almost immediately. Her phone was in her jacket and her jacket was...outside.
She now remembered that she’d taken it off to help Emma, the police officer, and the doctor while they were trying to climb up onto the deck. It was still sitting out back on the side railing of the deck. It was outside ringing and ringing.
Rachel, who was sitting in the living room hanging out with Jules, leapt to her feet and ran to the back door. She saw her jacket and flew outside to retrieve it. She fumbled with the pockets until she found the phone and powered it off.
Neil looked at her with both hope and terror in his eyes. She shook her head and said apologetically, “It was just my alarm. It’s time for my annual doctor’s appointment. I turned the phone on earlier to see if we’d gotten a cell signal yet and I guess I forgot to turn it off. Sorry.”
Jerry, who had positioned himself at the front window, said, “Uh, guys? They know that we’re here now. Come take a peek.”
Outside in the street, the crowd of zombies, who had been just gathering and waiting, all began to turn and walk over to the house. Their movements, which had become slow and stiff, became more organic. Their steps picked up pace as the excitement grew in the crowd. They had been detecting odors of the living for some time, but hadn’t been able to pinpoint the source. The noise was all that it took.
There were probably more than a hundred of them in the street by then. They gathered around the front of the house and began to pound the siding with their fists, their feet, and even their heads. A few made their way up the short flight of steps leading up to the porch and started to bang on the front door.
Neil’s fear suddenly gripped him again. They didn’t have much of a choice any longer. They were going to have to go outside and face these things. Their refuge had been compromised and it was just a matter of time before it would be breached. He felt that familiar chill on his arms, his legs, and up his spine. He also felt a sense of despair start to nag at him. He had begun to believe that they might all make it out alive, but that feeling all at once faded. He knew that they were in trouble.
Rachel could tell that she had just let the air out of everyone’s balloon. She was crying and begging for forgiveness. Kim left the front window, having seen enough already, and went over to Rachel who was sitting on the floor. Rachel’s long permed blonde hair was covering her face as she slumped forward. Her tears, obscured by the blonde curtain, coursed down her splotchy red cheeks and dampened her too-tight scavenged sweater. Kim tried to console her by rubbing her hunched shoulders and speaking kind words, but she knew it was all for naught.
Under her breath Rachel sobbed to herself, “I’ve doomed us all.” Kim wanted to tell her that it was just an accident and that all hope wasn’t lost, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Those words may have been the right things to say, but the words simply wouldn’t come.
Kim wanted to tell her that she was wrong. She really wanted to believe that Rachel was wrong, but the persistent silence that had reigned the streets for so many days refused to hear any of it. Kim’s doubt quieted her comfort to both Rachel and herself. She was understandably concerned that Rachel was painfully correct in her assessment. Of course Kim didn’t want to believe that, but Rachel’s words flashed bright and undeniable.
The pounding on the walls and doors was bad enough, but it didn’t appear to be all that they could expect. With the ghouls closer, a cloud of rot-filled air seemed to settle over the house, finding its way in through any seam or opening that presented itself. It was an odor that clung to clothing, carpet, and hair. There was no suppressing it with candles or air freshener—Kim tried. Jerry threw more wood onto the fire hoping that the warm air rising up the chimney would prevent some of the foul stench from trickling down. Nothing they did seemed to make any difference at all. After trying to deal with it for quite some time and nothing working, they all seemed to accept the fact that the reek was there to stay and the only way to get away from it was to get away from the house.
Neil remembered a segment from a history book in a college class from years ago. It was an entry about the American Civil War and, more specifically, the aftermath of the Battle of Gettysburg...or was it Antietam? He couldn’t remember for sure. What he did recall about the passage was the description of the battlefield. It was so vivid to him. The writer described a scene with bodies still strewn across farm fields several days after the battle’s end, on roads and footpaths, near streams and amidst trees. The writer wrote about the pungence that seemed to permeate the very air being breathed...of the sense that the air itself
was poison. He thought about that passage as he struggled to breathe shallowly, trying not to inhale any more of the reeking foulness than he absolutely must in order to survive. He felt himself stifle the urge from his churning, revolting stomach to vomit several times early on during that day.
Dr. Caldwell offered a temporary and less than ideal solution. He took a bandana from a drawer in a child’s bedroom, soaked it with perfume, and then tied it over his mouth and nose. It wasn’t perfect, but it made it so that he could keep working without having to fight the rising nausea every few moments. The others followed his lead; using any cloth they could find to become a makeshift surgical mask. To observe them was like watching a ragtag and under-equipped aid group dealing with a plague in a third world nation. They were all sweaty and filthy and their masks were rapidly becoming dingy.
Jerry, Meghan, Kim, and Dr. Caldwell were all rolling blankets into tight bundles in preparation for making a run for a new refuge. Neil and Tony were downstairs in the garage loading supplies into and onto the van. The stark reality of their situation was clearly evident to all of them though. They only had a minvan, which typically could seat seven safely, in which to transport nine adults and two children. Neil thought they could pile supplies onto the top of the minivan, despite the fact that there wasn’t a cargo rack on the vehicle. He felt that they could position items on the top and then tie them down so that they could mutually support staying in place. He didn’t know if it would work or not, but he was willing to try and Tony was more than willing to help.
Of course, while they worked, a legion of undead pounded themselves against the closed garage doors. Their persistent and mind-numbing moaning was all the more loud in the garage than it was in the much more insulated house. The constant sound solicited a nausea that was not unlike motion sickness.
“Could it get any worse?” asked Tony to no one in particular.
Neil looked at him sardonically and said, “One thing I’ve learned lately is to not ask that question because—”
“Yeah, I know. Sorry.”
Infection: Alaskan Undead Apocalypse Page 19