Zombies! Rising from the Dead

by Richard Palmer

  Chapter One:

  My name is Bruce. I had a very normal, everyday life until seven months ago. I lived in Barkley, a rural town in the middle of nowhere. It was the kind of town where everyone knows everyone else and no one's private business is private for very long. A tractor pulls out in front of you on the highway and you know the person on the tractor because he's also the towns' pastor. The sheriff is the guy you drink beer and go fishing with on the weekends, and your lucky if the only gas station in town happens to be open on the day you run out because the next station is thirty miles away. You know the kind of town I'm talking about.

  I had a nice home buried back in the country just a few miles outside of town. You head out of town hang a left and drive about five miles out on Cider road; a long winding gravel road that takes you out and drops you in the middle of nowhere. My place was a red brick, ranch style house on a few acres of land. It was about a mile off the road and shielded by a host of large Oaks and Maples, I didn't have a neighbor for miles. It was completely isolated and I did rather

  enjoy that isolation, why? Because I didn't care for people; now perhaps that was because of my line of work but I will get to that later.

  I enjoyed the simple life, when I wasn't working I spent a lot of time outside. Yard work was one of my biggest past times, I loved being outside. The sun and sky are so bright and blue in the country, that's something you don't get in the cities with all those tall buildings, the traffic and the smog---out here in the country it’s clean and crisp. The warm country air fills your nose with the familiar scent of honeysuckle and freshly mowed grass. I love the smell of fresh mowed grass, nothing says summer better. The feel of fresh soil between my fingers, cool to the touch, earthy, clean and pure.

  Night time was cool, dark and peaceful. When the trees mask the sun and the light fades into the night, its total darkness. You can see everything in the night time sky here, people in the city just think of that moon-lit sky as just being a few of stars and a big white orb we call the moon, but it’s so much more than that! From here you can see the Milky Way, swirls and hints of other galaxies, hosts of shooting stars as well as sister planets like Mars and Venus. Your mind goes on an adventure as you begin to think about all the possibilities out there. There is a whole universe to gaze upon which you would never be able to see in the city through all of its street lights, sirens and harsh neon signs.

  My home was my oasis, my place of refuge. I could go outside do my yard work and get all the fresh air anyone could want, get enough sun that my skin was beet red by the time I finished. Then in the evening sit outside and enjoy that wondrous nighttime sky.

  Inside was no different; a refuge. I had worked many years to get it that way. When I first bought the house it had been abandoned for a number of years and the tale-tale signs of neglect had started to set in; I saved it. Torn shingles, hanging gutters and decaying frame work were just some of the problems to be fixed; but I saw promise in the old property. The renovation process took several years and I had done every bit of it myself, except for the electrical which Rick did, being a certified electrician and all. I felt a great sense of accomplishment in what I had done, but that was a long time ago and renovations had been finished for many years now and were nothing more than distant memories.

  One of the things I most enjoyed about my little oasis was the basement. In-ground, surrounded on all sides by earth save one wall with open access to the outside patio. Think of it as a cave in terms of shelter, quite useful during tornado season. I had updated it so that all my little “toys” would be down there.

  Upstairs was very much for company and appearances, in terms of design and decorating. All the things you would expect to find in the average person’s home. It was bland with off-white paint and stuffy, clichéd paintings of waterfowl covering the walls, a dinette set for entertaining guests at dinner time. Further back three bedrooms all finely made up with mint condition, seventies era furnishings. An inn table and a lamp adorned either side of the bed, a dresser and of course large bulky queen size beds that saw little use other than by the occasional passing dust bunny. It was all very adult, proper and much like what you would find in a hotel. The upstairs wasn't me at all, it was a formality, something setup to appease the delicate sensibilities and palate of visitors and the infrequent over-night guest.

  Downstairs, ah now.....that was very much me. The basement I mentioned earlier; finished to be a home theater for certain. It contained all the varied aspects of my own personality, the outward physical manifestations of my own mind. Opening the door to the stairs leading down, there was a striking difference between what was to be found upstairs and what lied just beneath your feet. As you descended those heavy wooden stairs, movie memorabilia lined the walls on either side. As you entered the basement and rounded the stairs, a pool table and an old arcade machine sat off to the right. It’s one that I had salvaged from an old restaurant years ago. The walls were covered with finely framed posters from all my favorite films. A finished wooden bookshelf which held my DVD’s had been built-in under the stair casing. Further back in a short dead-end hallway, there was a rack which held video game consoles and behind the home theater sat a dark mahogany bar where company could sit on

  50's era bar stools and enjoy a meal or drink before watching a movie. Scattered throughout on various stands and shelves were all assorted types of toys and collectables, items I had either picked up in later years or that I had held onto since childhood. In the entire house the

  basement was the room I spent the most time in. (Funny that it should end up as the room that eventually saved us all).

  I had remodeled the house to be as self-sustaining as it could. Years ago we had a devastating ice storm which crippled the area and I wasn't spared its wrath by any means. Like most people at that time everything I had was powered by electricity; the heat, the lights, even

  the cooking stove. It’s funny; you just don't realize how dependent you are on some things until they are taken away and when the power failed I was stranded, helplessly at the mercy of Mother Nature.

  We were the last to get our electric service restored. Fourteen days without heat, warm water or any modern conveniences. Those lucky enough to have generators were able to hold out, but most simply couldn't hold out for such a long duration. There was no place to get anything, all the stores and gas stations were closed, every-thing had been impacted, imagine a complete breakdown of state and local government—if that's possible. Those who weren't prepared found themselves struggling through a life or death situation, I was one of them. Finally after four days of no power, constant sub-zero temperatures, and little to no, I packed up my F-150 and on a quarter tank of gas I headed north, last word was that it hadn't been affected as bad what with only the fringe of the front scraping by them, yet it

  was still a good sixty to seventy miles away.

  I traveled for almost two hours and the roads were terrible. Everything was bathed in a glistening, sparkling sheet of ice. A trip that should have taken an hour and a half took three. I had to be extra cautious, if a tire blew or if I lost control and ended up in a ditch here would be no one to come to my aid, no one to call because even the cell phone towers were down. I would be on my own.

  Luckily I came to a town called Cape Haverstock where I was able to rent a motel room and get a hot shower. They escaped the full brunt of the storm and had power restored a days ago. No one knew or wouldn't have dared playing the odds on trying to travel; I had lucked out and managed to get a room.

  I vowed after the ice storm that I would never be dependent on anyone else again for anything. Over the course of the next few years I installed gas appliances. Every winter
brought the threat of bad weather and reminded me time and time again why I was upgrading, funny thing too as in the minds of many gas appliances would have been considered old fashioned and outdated, but in this instance it made perfect sense.

  I put in a wood stove for emergency heat, with enough wood to last a whole winter if it came to it. A gas stove for cooking and gas water heater. I even had a large gas generator installed (we won't even go into that debacle!). In my pantry I stocked up on bottled water and can goods. It was expensive endeavor, but now I had enough supplies to last a lifetime should anything EVER happen again. I was determined to be prepared for the long haul, and it took

  roughly three years to get it all done and setup but by the end I was ready for just about anything (or so I thought).

  For as much as I loved the simple things and the outdoors, I was also a person who loved the finest in modern technology. Not only was it reflected in my home but also in my line of work. Speaking of...I worked thirty miles away in the city of Panatauk. Panatauk is...was a city still rural by any measure, but large enough to have a shopping mall and several big name department stores. I worked for one of the largest electronics stores in the country; we sold brand name electronics and offered a variety of over-priced services for those that could afford it, from installation to repair we did it all.

  My job was low paying with no benefits, but it was relatively easy and undemanding although it could be annoying at times. My role as it had been for the past five years was that of sales operator which was basically nothing more than a glorified receptionist. I fielded all the calls that came into the store and I was the first line of defense when anyone called with a problem or “wanted to speak to the manager...”. Ninety percent of my job was handling complaints and fixing someone else's screw-ups. The other ten percent was surfing the internet and that aspect of it wasn't particularly bad. I had

  my own desk, or more appropriately my own cubicle, so I had some measure of privacy. I didn't have to go out unnecessarily and deal with people, which is more than I could say for the unlucky sales floor associates. Nope, I’d just stay in my little office and pretend as though I was doing something useful or time consuming until something came along that demanded my attention.

  After years of dealing with the public I truly began to hate people. It sounds harsh, but those of you in retail or any other type of public service can certainly relate, you see humanity in all its selfish greed, and these days I try to avoid people when at all possible. I think this is why I so seldom go out and spend as much time as I do hidden within the confines of my little fortress of solitude. Outgoing people would consider me a hermit, a recluse, possibly eccentric; but only the rich are eccentric, the poor are simply crazy, thus I must be crazy. A doctor or psychologist might diagnose me with some form of phobia, derangement or paranoia—but that's a diagnosis I'm perfectly okay with, people leave me alone and I leave them alone.

  I have a few friends but only a couple I would consider close, Rick, a swarthy man standing about 6'6 and weighing just over three hundred pounds, bulbous with a large rotund gut. He was a behemoth of a man and a formidable sight. He talked with a heavy country drawl, with greasy jet black hair that was slightly thinning on top. Remembering many of those Old Italian mobster movies he looked every bit the part of a wise guy, someone that could have you snuffed out with the nod of this head. He could appear very intimidating to someone that didn't know him, but I did know him and the secret was that he was actually quite harmless.

  Rick and I were similar and yet different in opinions and attitude. We shared a common interest in movies, video games and political opinions. More importantly than that is we both share the same disdain for people in all their diluted ignorance. A disdain coming from no one particular incident, just a culmination of life experiences that had left us unblinded to the truth.

  People use the term “grizzled” when referring to old men; old men who have lived too long and seen too much becoming bitter at the world for perceived injustices, but in truth perhaps those perceptions are not as off the mark as one might think. At almost forty years of age both Rick and I were quickly getting to that point in our lives. We were beginning to understand these old men more and more every day and young people less and less. I perhaps understood a little better, after two failed marriages and burying most of my family to cancer I was starting to get bitter. Rick wasn't much better being constantly surrounded by the cascade of sick and dying loved ones and watching the endless conveyor of divorce around him. We were getting to that point where we didn't have too many things to say and much of what we did have to say was pessimistic and vile. Others coming to us seeking advice and encouragement often found themselves looking too hard and too long only to find nothing, and yet in this mutual hatred for humanity we found friendship.

  I met Rick when I moved into town back in the fifth grade. How we became friends still surprises me.

  Waiting in line one day in the cafeteria he asked to borrow a nickel. Of course a nickel is nothing; but to a ten year old kid in the fifth grade it was a great deal, especially in those days. I lent him the nickel despite the warnings of others. He gave me his word he would surely pay it back within a day or two; well that day quickly came and went, as well as the next day and the next. Weeks went by with nothing, not a word, well nothing except excuse after excuse.

  We were at recess a few weeks later on a particularly sweltering afternoon. We were on the playground and the hot sand was radiating the heat right back up into our faces. I didn't have a lot of money for a drink, by chance I noticed Rick at the soda machine getting a coke and I walked up to him and asked him for that nickel he had borrowed so many weeks ago, that nickel would have put me just over the top so I could get something to drink. His reply was swift and impartial “I don't have it, I don't have it...I will pay you back next week” by this point I had had enough of his lies and lost my temper. I punched him in the gut and then placed him firmly in a headlock throwing him to the ground, as he fell he lost his grip and a handful of shiny coins came spilling out of his hand. I scooped up my nickel and walked away, adrenaline still rushing from the experience. It was a long time after that we ever spoke again, I avoided him and he avoided me.

  It was very coincidental that once I finally started attending church later that summer I found out that Rick attended there as well. Perhaps that is how we became friends in the long run. It certainly wasn't long after that I recall sitting on the steps of the church after Sunday school playing games and comparing the number of my toys against his, with the episode at school long since fading into memory; in this single respect children have a uniqueness all their own, that being the capacity to forgive and forget.

  Rick and I, as well as a few others formed our own niche' in school. Our little troop endured through middle school on into high school and eventually beyond. After high school many classmates moved on to start their own lives and own endeavors, the once strong bonds of friendship becoming lose, frayed and finally fading away which often does happen in the course of life. Sometimes though, in rare cases friendships endure, and such was the case with Rick and I, and we remain close friends even to this very day. Over the years we moved from place to place one never far behind the other, in college we were even in the same frat house together. In all the long years no matter what the adventure it was Rick who was always there to share the ride.

  Many years later we both eventually ended up back in Barkley. As the old saying goes “there's no place like home” and the one place we struggled to get away from for so very long we discovered wasn't so bad after all. Rick moved into the family home which had been willed to him after his parents passed. I moved into my current home a few miles down the road. He worked at the local paper mill and I took up my job in Panatauk.

  Now years later as it would happen we met up with Frankie by sheer happenstance. You see, both Rick and I were big Gamers and there was a video game store in Panatauk called the Game Pad. We often fre
quented there and Frankie was the owner. Going in from time to time and checking out all the latest new releases or seeking game info we would always find Frankie there behind the counter. We would stop and talk with him in passing, discussing upcoming games, the latest movies or newest trends in home theater. Over the course of a few months a friendship quickly emerged and Frankie began to hang out with us more and more often. In some ways Frankie and I were more alike having had similar life experiences.

  Both Frankie and I had been married...repeatedly, and rather unsuccessful at it. We talked at length about the pitfalls of marriage and relationships. Frankie was more akin to me in appearance as well, standing only an inch or two taller than me at 5'6, but a bit heavier. He also sported a thinning hair line and the slightest hint of a lightly colored beard.

  Things went on normally; everyone just lived their lives as people do. Work, dating, bills, bitches, breakups; just life, nothing more nothing less.

  We would get together once every few weeks, the three of us, and just hang out. We’d watch movies and maybe have a few beers, fully expecting this lifestyle to go on uninterrupted and after all why shouldn't it?

  It was a good life, and I am grateful for every moment of it.

  Then just as abruptly everything was turned upside down. The things we understood and had come to expect from our world came crashing down around us.

  Chapter Two:

  Something Goes Amiss