“I really don’t want to go in here, guys.”
“Neither do we, Jack. I’ll go in by myself, no reason for everyone to go.”
Mike placed his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder as he was reaching for the knob. “You sure?”
Without reply Jimmy opened the door and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.
Jimmy looked around the brightly painted child’s bedroom. The usual scatter of toys, a table with coloring books and crayons, and a small bookshelf filled with books. Looking past all that, he could see a faint lump beneath a blue blanket covered in images of trucks of all shapes and sizes.
He wanted to wait for just another moment before pulling back that blanket, as he knew he must do to be certain of what lay beneath it. Stalling, he first went to the closet, opening the door slowly, pistol raised. He wondered for a moment if this closet ever featured in scary stories or bad dreams for the boy that had slept here.
He remembered the closet in his room, as a boy there were times when he was sure that something hideous lived in his closet. The few times he ran to his father crying because the door had slowly swung open after being closed, his father always taken the time to reassure him that nothing lived in his closet. He would always come and check it, then shut the door once more.
One morning, his father had come into his room while he was playing, carrying his small tool box. He didn’t ask what his dad was doing, he just watched as the man used some different screwdrivers on the door latch. His father stood up, proclaiming the door was fixed and would not open unless he turned the knob first.
“It was just a loose catch Li’l Jim, nothing to worry about. No ghouls or ghosts or zombies in your closet.”
“What’s a zombie, Dad?”
“A nasty old thing, rotten from the grave and all they do is eat people up.”
He remembered his mother calling from the other room, “James Ely Mitchell, don’t say that to him! Good grief, you’ll give him nightmares.”
Jimmy stood looking into the open closet, filled with the toys and clothes of a young boy. A single small tear rolled down his face, sadness not just for the loss of the little boy in the bed, but for the little boy he had once been.
The rest of the room was clear, and he could stall no longer. Stepping up to the bed, he gripped the edge of the whimsically decorated blanket and lifted it just enough to see underneath.
The parents in the other room must have watched their young boy die, the sickness taking him quickly but with much pain. After tucking their little boy in safely one last time, Jimmy could see them climbing into bed together, holding hands and ending the nightmare that had come to life in their home.
Jimmy rejoined his friends waiting in the hall and declared the room and the house cleared. Taking a few pillowcases from the hall linen closet, they went through the bathrooms and kitchen looking for medications as well as anything else useful. Once they had checked every room, including the garage, they left the house, closing the front door tightly behind them.
The next house was empty of any inhabitants, living, dead, or living dead. They quickly went through the rooms, adding to the pillowcases, which were already becoming cumbersome.
Leaving this house Mike told the others, “What do you guys say we leave these bags beside the road, maybe in the ditch a bit so they aren’t easily visible?”
“Why? We’re only getting the most important stuff right now; I hate to just leave it beside the road.”
“The bags are already getting heavy,” Mike told Jimmy, “and we need to be able to react quickly, carrying these around will slow us down. We can get more whenever we clear a new place. Leave them lined up along the road, pick them up on the way back.”
“I think it’s a damn good idea,” Jack said.
“What the hell, it would be a lot easier than packing them with us all day.”
Placing the bags under some leaves at the edge of the road, they made their way down to the next house. The place was very small, and looked as if it were going to fall in at any moment.
“Looks like this place was abandoned years ago. Check it or keep going?”
“Let’s check it Jack, but we aren’t going in past the door. I would really hate for us to fall through the floor.” Jimmy looked at Jack, a big smile on his face, “Well, I’d hate for ME to fall through the floor, you on the other hand…”
“Ohhh, that hurts,” Jack told him, “but not nearly as much as it’s going to hurt when I feed your ass to the next zombie that comes along.” Both men laughed quietly as they made their way up to the old house.
They stepped gently up onto the porch, careful of their footing. Jimmy was about to lean around and peek in the door when a board made a loud crack beneath his foot. He stumbled, catching himself on the doorframe when a gray and black form low to the ground shot through the open door.
Jimmy was knocked from the porch, sprawling on his back in the long grass. Jack watched as the creature, which they quickly realized was a large dog, came bounding back for Jimmy. He saw it coming; barely having time to throw is arm up over his face. He felt big teeth graze his arm, and just before they would have broken skin he felt the dog jerk and give a loud yelp.
Mike had run ran forward as soon as he saw Jimmy hit the ground. He was there in time to kick the snarling dog just as it put its mouth around Jimmy’s forearm. Knocking the dog off of Jimmy, he drew up his rifle and pulled the trigger twice, hitting the animal and killing instantly.
Jack came down from the dilapidated porch, he and Mike both leaning over Jimmy. “Holy shit, man! Are you ok?” Jack reached out to give Jimmy a hand up.
Back on his feet, Jimmy took a few deep breaths, trying to slow his hammering heart.
“Good freaking grief! Dog must have been hungry, or scared out of its mind.” Jimmy looked at his friend, “Thanks for saving my ass there.”
“No problem. I didn’t feel like carrying said “ass” back.”
Jimmy laughed, the hard thumping of his heart slowing. “This does bring to mind one question though.”
“What’s that?” Jack asked.
“Why aren’t we wearing some sort of bite guard? Something for the neck, arms, and shins would be a really damn good idea.”
Jack nodded, “Yeah, you’re right about that. We probably should have been doing that from the beginning.”
“Do you guys want to head back, or should we keep going?”
“What’s the matter, Jimmy, you gonna let a puppy scare you back home?” Mike’s laugh was infectious.
“This next house is huge, and it looks like there are five or six large buildings back there. We have to check them all; let’s make this one the last for the day. When we come out again we need to have some sort of bite-protective gear on, though.”
In silent agreement, the three men began to follow the white fence that appeared to surround most of the property. They could have shortened their walk by climbing the fence, but agreed that climbing over it was simply an unnecessary risk. By following the fence they were also able to tell that the front door of the house was standing wide open before they walked up to it.
Standing in front of the house, far back from the large front porch and open entry door, the men took a moment to survey the property. Dried blood, looking almost black from where they stood, stained the doorjamb, as well as bloody footprints up the front steps.They could also see broken glass glittering around the door.
“Broken glass on the outside, someone shattered it from inside,” Jack observed. “Should we do the walk-around like the last two?”
“Yeah, do the walk-around, watch the windows, but let’s stay back far enough that nothing can pop out from a corner or bush and grab us.”
Jimmy and Jack nodded to Mike, and moved left around the large house. Taking their time they watched the windows as they went, finding nothing until they came to the back door, which was also hanging open. They could see footprints, leading past them to the large circle drive. The
one pickup truck there had a bloody hand print on the door and smears over the window.
Jimmy walked toward the pickup, seeing another set of footprints mixed with the first. He moved slowly, his friends behind him moving as quietly as he was. He stopped a few feet from the truck, stooping low to check underneath, and to see if there was anything hiding on the other side.
Standing back up he nodded at the other two men and walked directly to the truck, examining the smears around the door handle. He turned around to look at his friends as they walked up to him.
“Someone ran out here, thinking to escape in the truck, couldn’t get it open and ran off, maybe? Whoever it was must…” A loud thump came from behind them, causing Jimmy to jump forward, nearly knocking Mike over. Jack shouted, “Oh, fuck me!” and stumbled backwards.
All three men righted themselves quickly, turning back to the truck, ready to face whatever was there.
A bloody hand slammed at the window again, smearing gore across the inside of the window. They could see bits of flesh being torn from the hand as it tried to grab at them through the glass.
The creature rose up behind the window, its skin looking tight and bloodless. The skin had begun to split in several places, showing the tissue and bone just below the surface. They could see a gaping wound on the dead things’ upper right arm, dried blood and flesh surrounded a hole that went all the way to the bone.
“You were right, Jimmy, someone did try to escape by getting into the truck. Right after he got bit. I wonder how long he’s been in there.”
“Jack, you ok?” Jimmy asked.
“I think I might have pissed a little. Other than that, yeah I’m just fine.”
“No worries man, I won’t say anything if you don’t tell anyone I tried to jump into Mike’s arms,” Jimmy said, a half-hearted grin on his face.
“Is that what you were trying to do?” Mike asked, grinning back at Jimmy. I thought you might have just felt a sudden need for a hug.”
“What are we going to do with this guy?” Jimmy asked, facing the truck.
“Bologna face? Just open the door, and I’ll put a blade in his head before he can even get out.”
“Bologna face”, Mike? What the hell?”
“Well look at him, he looks like a piece of bologna someone left on the dashboard in the hot sun.”
“And you have seen a piece of bologna left on the dashboard in the hot sun?” Jack asked.
Mike gave a short laugh, “Yeah, one of the girls did that once. Lisa and I could never figure out which one did it. It was over a weekend and I didn’t find it until I went to work Monday morning. I’m telling you, that guy looks an awful lot like that piece of sun baked bologna.”
Though the dead creature was securely closed inside the truck, they knew it had to be dispatched. Jack stood back, watching the house to make sure nothing came up behind them. He also had no desire to see the job being done.
Jimmy opened the door for Mike, swearing as the smell inside the truck hit him. Mike drew back the SOG Kukri; the same one Lisa had carried with her, swinging hard at the zombie’s head as soon as the door opened. The undead thing had been pushing against the door, and fell forward as it came open. Mike’s swing missed the head, striking solidly on the neck, severing the spine.
“Aw, damn it!” Jimmy exclaimed, jumping back from the head as it bounced near his foot, splattering thick gore on his boots.
“Well, shit,” Mike said, cursing the head and his missed swing. When the head stopped bouncing Mike placed his foot on it to keep it from moving away from his blade, the teeth still snapping. He placed the tip of the kukri against the thing’s temple and pressed hard, bone cracked and the blade sunk deep into the brain.
Once the teeth stopped snapping, Mike removed his foot and wiped brain matter off the blade in the thick grass. Jimmy had no comic remarks, and the other two did not want to stand around talking about what had just happened.
“Let’s finish the walk-around,” Mike said, sheathing the long blade and taking off toward the house.
The others followed and they made it back to the open front door without incident. They entered the house slowly with Jimmy in the lead position, Jack followed, and Mike brought up the rear.
Standing in the large foyer they could see blood and carnage everywhere they turned. A broken broom handle, blood staining the first six inches of it, lay on the floor inside the door. Bloody handprints and footprints were everywhere. A long, wide track of dried gore streaked the floor leading into the house; as if someone had crawled through a pool of blood.
The three men spent the next hour, going from room to room in the large house. The once nice home was now a tomb of carnage. They found several bodies, though none tried to eat them. Whatever had happened here, the people in the house were lucky enough to have died and stayed dead.
Once the house, from basement to garage to attic, was cleared the men gathered outside behind the house, taking time to suck in fresh air and expel the horrid smell of the house from their sinuses.
There was little conversation, the pervading smells and sights of violent death silencing any words they might have shared.
Mike broke the quite saying, “Let’s get these buildings done and go back to the Camp. I think I’ve had my fill for the day.”
“Those are stables back there,” Jack pointed out. “Maybe they trained horses, or rented stalls.”
As they approached the first building they caught the scent of more rotting flesh. The first building they came to was a barn, feed and hay were stacked throughout the building, as well as an old truck and several other implements dedicated to farming. There were no dead inside the building.
“Where’s the smell coming from? There’s nothing in here.”
Mike and Jimmy shrugged, having no answer to Jack’s question.
The next building was much like the first, filled with farming supplies. They spent as little time as possible inside, though it still took them nearly ten minutes to be certain the building was cleared. The smell of rot had gotten stronger as they went on.
As the group approached the next building, the first of three identical ones, they began to taste the rotten smell in the back of their throats. The odors were pervasive, and began to force each man to fight against his gag reflex. Pulling their shirts up over mouth and nose seemed to alleviate this, if only minimally.
Stepping into the large building the fetor of decay seemed to take substance, like a weight pressing down upon the three men. They found it difficult to move the further they went into the long stable. They began to see dead horses, bodies bloated and bursting inside the hot stalls.
The building was long and open, with hooks holding tack along one wall. There was nowhere for anything to hide. They pushed all the way down to the far end, looking in each stall as they went, the thick odor making each step forward a chore.
About three-fourths of the way down the building they came to an open stall. Bringing their weapons up, they approached slowly. Looking into the stall all three men turned away, yanking shirts from faces so they could vomit freely. After a moment of sucking in the fetid air they stood straight, replaced their shirts and turned back to the stall.
One undead man lay in the stall propped on the remaining bones of the horse that had occupied it. Most of the flesh and entrails had been removed from the carcass. They spilled from the split stomach of the zombie. This creature, whose only impulse was to devour, had consumed nearly every piece of horseflesh. Eventually its insides had burst, leaving its legs and lower body covered in a pile of rotting meat.
Reaching out to the men standing there, the creature snapped its teeth and moaned, but was held down by the disgusting pile that had exploded from it. Even now it was still driven to consume.
Mike snapped up his suppressed rifle, releasing one bullet into the skull of the horrid thing that lay there.
They stumbled down the remaining length of the building, glancing into each stall as they went b
y. Finding nothing but rotting horse carcasses they pushed through the partially opened sliding bay door at the far end of the building. Once outside all three stopped to vomit again, drawing great gulps of air in an effort to wash out the stench of the horse barn.
“Two more barns, one little shed to check and we can be finished with this fucking place,” Mike said, his voice heavy with disgust. “Let’s get this done.”
Taking one last swallow of water, swishing it around their mouths and spitting it out, the men stowed water bottles in their daypacks and moved on. The stench, though present, wasn’t as strong from this building. They found four dead horses and one person that looked to have taken his own life by impaling himself through the face on the busted handle of a garden rake.
“One more large building, the little shed, and we go home,” Jimmy told them. They lifted their shoulders, and began walking towards the last large building.
Chapter 11
“The last barn wasn’t nearly as bad, just a couple of dead horses. The little shed had some tack repair equipment in it, as well as that chainsaw we brought back, a few other yard tools. There’s more, but we can go back for that stuff later.”
“Sounds to me like you guys have had a hell of a day,” Gordy told the three once Jimmy had recounted the day’s events.
“Yeah, you could say that,” Jack said. He still appeared a little ‘green around the gills’, which had been Jan’s medical opinion.
After Jan had given them a quick checkup, they had sat down with Gordy at one of the picnic tables behind the main house.
A pot of coffee sat on the table, and they laced their cups with a bit of Mike’s moonshine. “It sucked, man, that’s all I can say. I’m hoping tomorrow goes a lot easier,” Mike said as he took his flask back from Jimmy.
“Do you guys feel like going back out tomorrow or do you want to give it a day, then start back where you left off?”
“I think we should stay at it, the sooner it’s done, the better,” Mike looked to his partners for confirmation.
“If Rick, or Sam or one of the others wants to go, I’d be damn happy to work here.”
American Revenant (Book 2): Settlers and Sorrow Page 6