Soaking up all the love she could, Cara patted him on the shoulder and turned around. “I’m going back down. I’ll see you when you’ve called it a night.” She disappeared down the ladder and spared one glance back.
Bryant turned back to training the young one. “Okay, let me see that bad boy.” He took the gun from the child’s hands and set up for a shot. He touched his eye to the scope for a few warm-up shots. The crosshairs rested on what used to be his high school English teacher. Bryant remembered getting a “C” on his paper on the Lord of the Flies for not listing Simon as a representation of Christ. Despite the grade, he had fond memories of her and the book. Ka-Pow. The body dropped and he moved the cross to a new target.
The circle of vision the scope provided revealed a scene so disturbingly normal that Bryant performed a double-take. An adult male, deceased of course, sat leaning against a tree. An adult female sat beside him with a dead hand resting on his thigh. Bryant’s view faded and reappeared as a resurrected grade-school boy stepped in front of his sight. The child approached the pair and sat down in the female’s lap. Slowly, the dead creature wrapped its arms around the adult’s torso and rested its pale head on her chest. The trio remained motionless as if posing for a family portrait. Bryant felt shudders along his entire body. The scene below felt significant, but he did not know why.
“Is it my turn?” Tommy asked.
“Oh yeah.” He had forgotten the little boy wanting to learn how to defend himself. He began his instruction, but the dead family resting under the tree would not leave his mind. Everything seemed to turn on itself. The idea of pure instinct now had a challenger.
***
Everyone ate in the dining room on the bottom floor. Rick joined them but Martin volunteered to keep the shotgun trained on the captive while he was out of his cage. Each of them thought that the portions had diminished, but only Tommy spoke. “This isn’t as much as usual.”
Eric hesitated before answering. “Eight people eat a lot of food. We need to start rationing.”
Stephanie cried out, unable to restrain herself. “This is hopeless. We should kill ourselves and save those things the trouble. If we go outside, we’ll get eaten. If we stay in here, we’ll starve. What a choice!”
“No, no no! Just shut up!” The priest suddenly stood up, shouting down at all those still seated. “People, do not give up! When you think of every great story, it focuses on people overcoming odds. It takes willfulness and strength of character to forge your own destiny! I do not plan on sitting here and wasting away, nor do I plan on letting those abominations devour me. I plan on surviving. Not only that, I plan on really living. I will be cautious, not fearful. I will be brave, not foolhardy. Most of all, I will drag every one of you kicking and screaming to safety with me if you do not feel inclined to come.”
Rick countered with a sarcastic sneer. “Nice speech, padre. How do we find a safe place?”
“If we break out and find a place that has not progressed as far as this, we can stock pile several years worth of food and ammunition. We can find better conditions, and warn people. An army of soldiers could easily crush these dim-witted creatures.”
“Okay. How do we get out of the building? Those things aren’t leaving a square inch uncovered.” Rick retorted.
“That will require some planning, but I’m sure that we are up to the task.” The priest sat down, feeling self-conscious now that his passion had subsided. “I hope you all agree with my sentiments and will help me plan an escape.” He continued eating his meager meal in silence.
Tommy looked at Cara and asked, “Are we really leaving?” His eyes contained a hopeful wonder.
Cara stroked his hair. “Not yet, but finish eating your canned meat slop. You’ve got to be at full strength.” Tommy shoveled another fork full into his mouth and made exaggerated chewing motions.
Eric nodded. “After dinner, we can start planning. Right now, let’s get the meal out of the way so we can concentrate.”
Everyone responded by collecting the dishes and placing them in the sink. Rick went back to his closet, but the meeting did not change location. If the captive had an idea, they might use it. Eric stood while everyone else sat. He marched around the table like a general trying to appear authoritative.
“What we need to do is decide on a location first and then figure out the ideal way to get there.” He began.
Bryant interrupted. “Actually, I have some information that we might need to discuss. It might affect the outlook we have on the trip.”
Eric flustered. The teenager tried to steal his thunder. “What earth-shattering news might you have for us?”
“Well, on the roof earlier today, I saw a family of zombies. I mean, as in an actual social unit. A mother, father, and son acted as a group. It wasn’t anything impressive but it made me stop and think.” Bryant paused, letting the new info sink in. Hopefully, one of them would come to the same conclusion on his or her own. “The child displayed affection toward both adults. Also, whenever they moved, they moved together.”
Father O’Brien clutched the shotgun and watched the door. He knew what Bryant hinted at. He spoke up trying to drown out the doctor’s muttering. “You think that they are remembering more than we have given them credit for.”
Cara voiced her opinion as soon as that thought came out into the open. “Anthropologically, the behavior is typical. When not foraging for food, idle time with family or members of your tribe would be the norm.”
Bryant tried to refute it. “They are learning, if not learning, then accessing more memories, not just instinct. They were once human and still are in some respects. The knowledge some of them may have is dangerous.”
The priest spoke in a low voice, almost to himself. “They are more like us than we would like to admit. How basic is the concept of a gun? Even a small child knows how to grip one and fire. What about a car? Driving is so second nature to us. One of them could start a car and slam it into the building.”
Eric almost jumped while shouting. “Listen, I ran a mile through the middle of those things. With the smarts of a dumb dog, they could have caught me. Ramming a car to get inside requires too many logical steps. It’s pointless to worry about anything like that.”
Cara sighed. “Brains don’t work that way. When you’re excited or stressed, you forget. In moments of inactivity, the brain is relaxed and free with information. It’s like an answer coming to you after you’ve stopped thinking about the question.”
Eric snidely remarked. “I am a doctor, little girl.”
Cara looked at Martin and Stephanie but they both looked away. “They don’t want to get involved” she thought.
Bryant added. “The ones I saw were not chasing food. They were sitting there, inert.”
A voice from the closet snapped at them. “They remember. I’ve seen it before you locked me in here. We need to leave or they’ll find a way in eventually.”
Martin shouted through the door. “Shut up you sick fuck! You just want us outside so you can try to escape.”
Stephanie grabbed his arm. “Let’s go. This arguing isn’t helping.” She led him upstairs, out of the reach of his stressor.
The priest shook his head. “We can’t act this way or we’ll die. We need solidarity”
Eric flicked his finger at Bryant. “We were talking about escape until lover-boy changed the subject.” He stepped through the doorway, disappearing.
Bryant patted Cara on her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “You know I’m right. They’re going to become more dangerous.” She kissed him, otherwise not responding.
They reached no escape plan and no consensus.
***
That night, everyone gathered to watch the newscast. As soon as the screen flickered on, a grave voice continued with a breaking story. “Riots shook Washington D.C. Large groups of people took to the streets trying to flee the city as the carnage spread through the city. Officials said that they have no explanation for the app
arent mass homicides but are confident that it will only be a matter of time before they have the situation back under control. Police are encouraging people to stay indoors.”
The assemblage groaned in disappointment.
“Casualties so far are unknown. Some people are claiming that the attackers are carrying the dead off with them. Other eyewitnesses say that they are eating the bodies. As of now, no city or state organization has commented on such outlandish claims. All that is known is that, so far, police and the National Guard have failed to quell the riots.”
Eric kicked the desk and cried out. “Why bother running? There’s nowhere to go!”
The priest leapt to his feet. “We are trying to assess the situation. As always, knowledge is power. So, be silent!”
The television continued, oblivious to the interruption. “ . . .It is true, as incredible as it seems, the man had no heart beat or respiration.” The interviewer held out a microphone for a man in a white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a tie hanging loosely around his neck. “However, we did pick up some brain wave activity. The man’s eyes reflex to light conditions and other stimuli. We have taken blood samples which we are still thoroughly examining. We are not ruling out a disease or foreign agents, for example a new kind of biological or chemical weapon.”
The TV spewed out more hopeless drivel than they could handle. Eric switched the set off with a hard twist of the ancient knob on the right hand side of the set. “It just keeps getting better.” Everyone disbanded for the night, hoping that things would look better in the morning.
Eight hours of sleep should have helped alleviate some of the hopelessness, but the morning broadcast waited for them with worse news. Eric turned on the idiot box and saw coverage of more riots. In one night of sleep, New York City, Los Angeles, Atlanta, Seattle, Dallas, Detroit, Philadelphia, and just about every major city in the United States had experienced the same thing as Washington had. A haggard reporter stood on a non-descript roadside talking into the camera. “The president has been safely moved but officials are not saying where he is. All that is known is that the mob broke through Whitehouse security, leaving chaos in their wake. I think it is safe to say that the nation’s capitol is now a war zone.” The shot cut to aerial footage of masses of people choking the streets. A line of men in camo began firing, but the horde continued to move forward.
***
Breakfast turned into a morose affair. No one spoke. Even Rick remained quiet while being let out for the meal. While the group ate, the moans of the dead filtered in through the windows. Eventually, Cara spoke. “It might not be so bad.”
Taking the bait, the priest asked, “What wouldn’t be so bad?”
“A world without humans.” The only noise came from the dead throats outside until she spoke again. “I know it sounds like a blasphemous thought, but maybe it’s for the best.”
Eric looked at her with undisguised hate. “That’s the attitude of a fucking coward.”
“I’m not ready to give up. I was just thinking about it from a what-if standpoint. The end of the human race would end pollution, bigotry, war, genocide. Everything evil that we have done would not happen again. The world could start fresh.”
Father O’Brien stared her down. “You’re forgetting some pretty important things: art, love, music, contentment. There are so many things in the world that are beautiful that also would never happen again. The whole point of free will is to choose good or evil. Some are naturally going to choose evil but there are the others. . .”
Cara looked around at them. “Like I said, I’m not giving up. I still think we can make it. It was just a what-if.” The disapproving lull which followed set the stage for a dramatic scene.
Five days of continuous noise had started to affect them all, but Stephanie broke first. No one noticed her softly rocking back and forth. She stood while everyone glared at Cara. Then before anyone could stop her, she ran for the barricaded doors. A long wail filled the room and snapped Martin out of his confused daze. She tried to pull a chair from the middle of the furniture mound in front of the door. “Got to get out; got to go, now.”
Martin reached her first, grabbing her by the shoulders and yanking her back. The others caught up and held her down. Her arms flailed with strength no one suspected that she possessed. When the girl regained her composure, the hands slacked off and Martin hovered over her, asking her pointless questions.
“Are you okay? Please, don’t ever do that again. Promise me.”
Cara’s voice, firm and heavy, came down like an H bomb. “Rick is gone!”
Eric looked around. “He took the shotgun!” His mind raced for a second. “The rest of the guns are on the second floor. Martin, you stay with Stephanie and the rest of us will stop him from getting the rest of the guns.”
The Father, Eric, Bryant, Cara, and even Tommy (who accompanied solely because no one noticed him tagging along) ran blindly up the stairwell and spilled out into the sanctuary. Everyone froze at the sound of the pump sliding. Tommy, still on the stairs, quietly stepped up to the third floor as Rick commanded the others.
He held the barrel pointed at the center of the group, where Eric and Bryant stood. Rick spoke in a confident, steady voice. “Stop, don’t move.” He smiled like a shark. “Looks like the shoe is on the other hand now, don’t it?” He glanced down at his weapon. “It’s pretty scary, ain’t it? The barrel looks as big as a train tunnel when you’re staring down into it. Or maybe it’s like looking into a deep well right before you fall in?” With one hand, he tossed a length of rope to the group. It fell at the priest’s feet. “Start tying. Everyone tied to one pew.”
Cara tried to reason. “What are you hoping to accomplish? One person can’t hold seven others prisoner.”
“I’m not taking prisoners.” His eyes gleamed with a lack of rational thought. “I’m taking off and leaving you here as dog food.”
Cara challenged him again. “How will you sleep? No one will be with you to stand guard. At least here, you’re protected.”
“What?” His eyes bulged. “I’m supposed to be grateful for that closet full of dried blood and puke? I brought food and ammunition. What did I get for it? Locked up!” He lost control shouting the sentences with a frantic speed.
“You were locked up for rape!” Cara shouted back.
“You think you’re so smart. You’re just a dumb Yankee bitch. You can’t outsmart me. I’ve got a gun and you don’t.”
Father O’Brien slowly leaned down to pick up the rope. “He’s right. He has the gun. At least together, we’ll have a chance.”
Rick watched the old man with disdain. “You probably think that your God is going to step in, don’t you? I’ve got news for you. We are fly specks to Him. We aren’t special. He can create an entire universe in seven days. Why should he give a shit about a football player in Fayette?”
Bryant wondered if the slick sheen and drops of water on his face came from sweat or tears. Asking a maniac if he was crying could get him a stomach full of buck shot, though. They co-operated. Four people sat down and found themselves lashed to a pew against the side wall of the church.
Rick gripped the knots and seemed satisfied. He looked into Bryant’s eyes and then into the doctor’s. His face wore a predatory expression as he addressed the group. “I’ve forgotten someone.” Then he stalked toward the stairwell with a grim determination. He entered the doorway, disappearing out of sight. Then the captives heard a shotgun blast.
***
Martin sat Stephanie against the wall and handed her a glass of water from the sink. He knelt down and stroked her hair. “Just sip on that.” He tried to keep his voice mellow and flowing. Secretly, he feared that Rick had gotten the drop on them all. “I’m going upstairs to help find Rick.”
Her frightened eyes widened and she reflexively grabbed Martin’s arm. He gently peeled her fingers away and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right back.” She thought he was going to say mo
re, and felt relieved when he did not. That would just add unneeded complexity to a dire situation. She loved him but not in the way that he wanted her to. She saw Martin as a big brother type, a protector. She watched him walk toward the door and knew that this was the end of everything.
***
Martin stepped across the threshold and looked up. He met Rick’s eyes at the top of the flight of stairs. Reflexes took over for both men. Rick raised the weapon as Martin threw himself sideways back into the kitchen. The crack of the discharge culminated in a random pattern of black pellet sized holes in the wall. Rick muttered an expletive and took the stairs one step at a time. He crept forward as if he were stalking a deer. His eyes never left the doorway below him.
Tommy watched Rick slowly descend. With the stealth only a small child is capable of, the ten year old slipped down to the second floor, tensely watching the bad man’s back. Rick, however, could not be distracted. His revenge-fueled tunnel vision had taken out all other senses.
Tommy breathed a sigh of relief when he entered the sanctuary and saw everyone still alive and wriggling around in their bindings. He quickly ran over and began pulling at the rope. Tommy’s small fingers skillfully dissected each knot, freeing Bryant first.
His first act upon being freed was to grab a gun and command the others to do the same. “Grab all the ammo you can. Some of us will search the top floor while the rest stay on the second flight of stairs and watch for movement on the ground floor.”
Cara grabbed a rifle and announced to the group, “I’ll go with Bryant.”
Eric shrugged. “As if that’s a surprise.”
Tommy ran forward and grabbed Bryant’s hand. “I want to go with you.”
Bryant knelt down and made eye contact. “It’s safer with everyone else. He might be up there waiting.”
Darkest Days: A Southern Zombie Tale Page 27