by Betts, M. E.
"Carla," Elmer said, "I'd like you to meet my new friends here. I'd still be trapped, if it weren't for them."
"Well, come on in," Carla said, holding the door open, "all of you."
They sat in the living room for around an hour, trading stories and snacking on Carla's homemade apple pie, made with fresh apples from the dwarf tree outside.
"I knew if I made my pie," Carla said, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin, "Elmer would smell it and come home, come hell or high water."
"What can I say, dear?" Elmer said, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. "You make one heck of a pie."
Shari stood, swallowing the last bite of food in her mouth. "I agree with Elmer," she said. "It really was an amazing pie. It's getting late, though. I really should see about finding those keys."
"I'll go with you," the Professor said.
"The rest of you are welcome to stay until they get back," Carla offered.
"Thanks, Mrs. Neumann," Hugo said.
"Yeah," Phoebe concurred. "Your house is beautiful--way more comfy than the radio building I've called home since April."
"How do you think I feel?" the Professor joked as he and Shari headed out the door. "I practically called that place home before the apocalypse."
"Careful, you hear?" Elmer said. The Professor flashed him a thumbs-up, closing the door behind him as he exited and followed Shari down the porch stairs.
"So what will these keys look like?" Shari asked as they started down a patch of healthy, formerly pampered but now overgrown lawn. There were about twenty acres between the Neumann's house and their neighbor's sprawling, newer construction manse next door.
The Professor shrugged. "Like keys, most likely. It might say Cessna on it, and it might not."
"Let's hope they aren't the types of people to have an inordinate amount of keys," Shari said.
They reached the recently paved circle drive where Elmer's neighbor had left his truck. They peered into the interior of the cab, noting that the driver's seat had been thoroughly soaked in blood, which had since darkened to a deep, sun-baked maroon.
Shari opened the passenger side door, cowering from the whoosh of hot, acrid air that was immediately sucked out of the vehicle, washing past her.
"Gross," she said, "it smells like rotting biological matter and new car in here." She leaned into the cab and checked the seats, floor and glove compartment to be sure the keys hadn't been left in the truck.
"On to the house?" the Professor asked as Shari stood, gently closing the door.
"Yeah," she said, arming her drywall hammer. The Professor reached into his shoulder bag, taking out a sawed-off shotgun. On his belt was an unbreakable steel mallet which Shari had lent him.
They ascended the stairs of the elaborate covered porch which wrapped around the first floor, much of it capped by balconies overhead. They heard a loud buzz from the back yard, letting them know something rotting was likely nearby. Shari locked eyes with the Professor as they continued to follow the porch, wrapping their way around the colossal house until they found themselves on a sprawling rear deck. There was a deluxe outdoor kitchen and dining area running the width of the house and a hot tub on the outer corner of the deck. A wide, wooden staircase led down to an expansive paved area with a murky, green inground swimming pool and an intricate outdoor fireplace and firepit constructed of matching red bricks. Shari descended the stairs, approaching the pit for a closer look.
"There's something in there," she said under her breath, crouching to look at the ashes. She saw a corpse, charred and blackened, plus something else. She looked for a moment longer, then rose to her feet to brandish her hammer as she realized that she was looking at one full body in addition to a disembodied leg.
"I don't think we should be here," she whispered, backing away from the house as her eyes fluttered over each window. Her hand hovered over her holster, ready to dive for her revolver. The Professor followed suit, coming down the stairs to follow Shari back toward the Neumanns' house. His gaze met hers, his eyes questioning.
"Third leg," Shari explained, her tone hushed. "It's gotta belong to somebody."
She saw a slight flicker of movement from a ground floor window, and a moment later a bullet buzzed past her, missing her by a couple of feet and burrowing into the lawn behind her. She and the Professor ducked behind the fireplace, guns drawn. Shari peered around the edge, gazing briefly toward the window. She couldn't tell whether or not the shooter was still there. A few moments later, she heard the back screen door swing open.
"You saw that bitch in the fireplace?" roared a deranged male voice. "She saw I was bit, so the heartless wench tried to shoot me dead, no questions asked." He laughed. "And so I had to shoot her dead, no questions asked. That was my wife, so what do you think you've got coming?"
Shari and the Professor heard the door latch closed, and a moment later they could make out the sound of a crutch scraping across the well-polished planks of the rear deck. The sound traveled down the short flight of stairs to the patio. Shari brushed the loose strands of hair away from her ears, listening intently to the labored, impending tread. She crept around the fireplace just as the unseen figure reached it and circled around, revolver drawn, until she stood silently behind the disheveled, one-legged man who had raised a .45 pistol and pointed it at the Professor. Shari squeezed the trigger, burying a .357 Magnum round into the rear right side of the man's head.
She and the Professor made their way to the house and entered the back door. They found themselves in a luxurious living area with a gleaming marble wet bar and Italian leather furniture situated to enjoy the view of the backyard and its once meticulous landscaping. The oversized windows and skylights lining the ceiling flooded the room with daylight, calling attention to a peculiar fact. Shari approached the barstools that lined the wet bar, turning her head to read the words scrawled across the cherry finish on top of one stool.
PROPERTY OF BOB SEEVER, the dead inhabitant had written in black marker. She looked at the next stool, also bearing the name of its former owner, along with the next one after that. She advanced toward the leather armchairs, noting that they, too, had been branded in black marker. She studied the room, noting that no item, large or small, had managed to avoid bearing the insignia of its owner. The two continued through the house, and it was the same in each room, all of the possessions labeled.
"This nutjob had a lot of time on his hands," Shari muttered, a family photo catching her eye. It depicted the married couple, apparently much younger, and their adolescent children. Across the protective glass, the thick black marker lines confirming ownership partially obscured the faces beneath. They came to the garage, a large, two-story structure with a loft area and a workshop running along the rear wall.
A large pool of blood, long dried, sat on the floor. As Shari inched closer, she saw a chainsaw on the counter above the blood stains. The blade bore the words, PROPERTY OF BOB SEVER, and so did the dried blood on the floor beneath.
"Jesus," the Professor breathed, pointing toward the blood on the floor. Shari looked down to discover that Bob Seever had seen fit to declare ownership of his dried blood puddle, where he had presumably amputated his own zombie-infected leg. She gazed down the length of the counter, her eyes seizing on a bundle of small, shiny objects.
"Keys!" she cried, hurrying to fumble through the keys on the ring. "Holy shit, these ones say Cessna!" She paused, looking more closely at the two plane keys. "And they don't say that they're property of Bob Seever!"
"Ha!" the Professor chortled. "Good thing, huh?"
"Now let's get the hell outta this creep 'fest," Shari said, making haste for a side exit.
Back at the Neumann household, Shari and the Professor explained the ordeal, culminating in their successful acquisition of the keys to the Cessna.
"I always knew that guy loved his possessions like nothing else," remarked Paul, the Neumanns' son, "but holy shit, I didn't realize that he was that cracked in the head."
"He was an odd character," Carla said. "Didn't like for anyone to so much as look in the direction of his house. He always made me uncomfortable." She shrugged. "Can't say I'll miss him."
"So you're off to Chicago, then," Elmer said.
Shari nodded. "Assuming these keys start the plane," she said, starting toward the door to the front porch. "I'm gonna go out for a quick smoke. Maybe check that transmission from McCormick place one more time, make sure it's still a go."
"What about that animal you got outside?" Elmer asked. "I don't imagine you plan on taking that horse onto a Cessna."
"No," Shari said, "I guess I don't."
"You're more than welcome to leave her here," Carla offered. "There's more than enough in the fields for her to graze on, at least 'til spring, and plenty of well water. We don't have a barn, but, well--" She let out an uncomfortable titter. "I think one just opened up next door."
"We'll do the best we can for her," Elmer said. "You saved my life and made my wife a very happy woman."
"Thanks, guys," Shari said. "It's really a load off my mind, not having to just abandon her." She started toward the front door. "I'll take her next door, get her settled in."
Shari lit up a smoke as she descended the porch steps. Eva nickered as she approached and unloaded the saddlebags. She mounted the horse and directed her toward the barn that sat between the Neumanns' home and the Seevers', flanked on both sides by a white-painted corral. She located a gate, dismounting and lifting a latch to swing the gate open, then took the lead and guided the horse toward the barn door past a lean-to. She tried the old-fashioned pump just outside the door, discovering that it worked. She filled a water trough before entering the unlocked barn. As she looked around the interior, she found bales of hay left untouched.
Shari wondered what had happened to the animals who had once inhabited the barn. She supposed that they had likely jumped the fence in their search for food once their meals had ceased to be delivered to them, after their owner had gone off the deep end. Shari portioned some hay for her horse before saying goodbye.
"Be good," she said, hugging Eva around the neck. The animal snorted in her apprehension, her ears back. "I can't take you where I'm going." She scratched Eva behind the ears one final time before turning to set back across the expanse of unkempt lawn toward the Neumanns' house, trying not to dwell on her sadness at leaving her four-legged companion.
She reached into her pack for her ham radio, tuning into 101.1FM to check the transmission again before the group departed for McCormick Place. The message was still being transmitted, along with an update added the day before. She replaced the radio, placing her hands in her pockets as she strolled through the chilled early autumn air.
As she neared the porch, she thought she saw a flash of movement to her left, in the back yard. She snapped her head around to survey the area, although she saw no further sign of movement.
"Looked like people," Shari muttered to herself, the words barely audible. She was vaguely aware that she wasn't entirely certain that anyone had been there. She looked around for a moment longer, her eyes flitting over the yard, then climbed the stairs and entered the house.
"Eva's squared away," she informed the Neumanns. "I gave her some food they had left in the barn, and some water. Thanks again. I can't tell you how mucgh I appreciate this."
"Ah," Elmer said, waving his hand dismissively. "We don't mind pony-sitting." He chuckled. "Not much else to do with our time nowadays, is there? Besides, the missus has always wanted a horse."
"Since I was a little girl," Carla said, smiling warmly. "I'll take good care of Eva 'til you come back for her."
"I'll drive the three of you, since you'll be leaving your four-legged friend here," Elmer said, motioning to Shari, Hugo and Finn.
"That would be great, thanks," Shari said.
The group bid farewell to Carla and Paul, trading hugs and warm regards. Shari, Hugo and Finn headed out to the pickup with Elmer while Daphne, Phoebe and the Professor headed out on the ATV.
"I'm not supposed to ride in a car without a car seat," Finn protested.
"I know," Shari said, "and that's generally a good idea, but we're gonna make an exception just this once."
They loaded the few bags and saddlebags into the bed of the truck, then took off down the road after Daphne.
Upon reaching the airport, Shari tossed the Professor the keys. "Start 'er up," she said, relieved when the plane roared to life upon the key being turned in the ignition.
"Looks like she's about halfway full," the Professor remarked, studying the plane's various gauges. "Should be more than enough fuel."
"Well," Elmer said, still inside the truck, "looks like you folks are all set."
"Thanks, Elmer," Shari said, leaning in the driver's side window for a quick hug, "for everything."
"You're very welcome, Miss Shari," Elmer said, "though I'm the one who should be thanking you."
"You guys take care," Shari said. "I'll try to cone back, but I don't know when."
Elmer nodded, throwing the truck into reverse. "God bless you folks," he called out the window, backing up and pulling back onto 52.
The group got themselves and their luggage situated inside the plane, and the Professor navigated the plane down the runway. As the plane lifted off of the ground, Shari gazed down through the window at the agricultural terrain below, its overgrown fields differentiated by darker green rows of trees. She looked back toward the Seever residence and saw that Eva was outside in the corral, visibly perturbed as she regarded the plane. As Shari surveyed the tiny town of Kentland, she could swear she saw, once again, a brief flash of movement in the in the main street running through town, a fleeting image of living, human movement which looked to her like a large figure dressed in black. She nudged Daphne beside her, who had also been looking out the window and toward the town below.
"You see anything down there just now?" she asked.
Daphne turned to look at her, shaking her head slowly.
"Oh," Shari said. "Okay. It was probably just me." She settled back into her seat, trying hard to numb her mind as she took in the view below.
About fifteen minutes into their journey, Hugo cried out, pointing out his window to the west.
"Holy crap, guys! There are around a million zombies out there!"
"Get the fuck out, there are not a million," Phoebe said as she leaned over Hugo's lap to look for herself. She let out a low whistle as her eyes locked on the herd. "There are a lot, though, I'll give you that."
Shari craned her neck to see across the interior of the plane, peering through the opposite window. The horde stretched over the entire visible horizon, a carpet of undulating human rot heading south.
"Jesus Christ," she breathed. "You'd almost swear it's the whole undead population of Chicago, from the size of it."
"Some of them might be," the Professor muttered.
Hugo snickered. "The dead of winter, migrating south."
They flew over the farms of northwest Indiana, into the suburbs and past Gary. They were about halfway through the roughly hour-long flight when Shari saw wide strips of towering white dunes below, followed by the vast, blue-green expanse of Lake Michigan. They continued across the southwest border of the lake, the water to their right and the densely built south side of Chicago to their left. They soon approached the marina located between McCormick Place and the nearby Adler Planetarium, which sat on a pier jutting out into the lake.
The Professor lowered the plane, maneuvering his way through the marina until he was a few feet from a mooring dock. The group gathered the various bags and backpacks and began filing out of the plane.
"Marina's mighty full," Phoebe said, hopping down onto the walkway. "I bet I could figure out how to get some of these started."
"Then where would you go?" the Professor asked, hanging the luggage from inside the plane to Shari.
"Become a pirate," Phoebe said. "What do you think? Roam the shores o
f the Great Lakes."
"Gas'll expire," Hugo said. "That'll only work for so long, and then you'll have to figure out a different way to power them."
"I know that," Phoebe said, slightly defensive. "I hope this place has running water. I don't want to be holed up in a convention center with God knows how many other unwashed people."
"Ah, it's fine," the Professor said. "The place is huge. I'm sure you can always retreat to some quiet corner to stink up with just your own smell."
The group started toward the shore.
"I wonder how much of it they're using," Shari said. "It's not just a building, it's a complex."
"I guess we'll find out," Daphne said, taking in the sights and muted sounds of her deserted home city, a city which she hadn't seen since childhood. It was, indeed, the city in which she was supposed to have grown up. Shari noticed Daphne's reaction, her struggle to remain emotionally neutral, and wrapped her arm around the young woman as they walked at the rear of the group.
"Thanks," Daphne said under her breath, a single tear rolling downher cheek.
Hugo glanced back, noting her distress.
"Hey," he said, joining her side opposite Shari. "You okay, Daphne?"
Daphne nodded silently.
"The place brings back memories for her," Shari said.
"Oh," Hugo said, although he appeared to be puzzled.
"Of my childhood," Daphne elaborated.
Hugo nodded, dawning comprehension in his eyes. "Oh," he said, "I understand. We're here for you, Daphne."
"Thank you," Daphne said. "I really am happy, though. We all--" She paused. "Most of us made it here alive. I'm home and there's life here. We can all have a life here."
They came to a path that ran between the shore and the easternmost building of the complex. The northern and southern ends of the path were capped off, building to lake, with three consecutive rows of chainlink fence twenty feet in height. This afforded safe access to the marina via the convention center's easternmost entrance. At both ends, undead tumbled into the water in their attempt to circumvent the fencing in their way. It was, however, a futile attempt, as the fencing protruded ten feet out into the water. The submerged undead invariably stayed down, as there was a deep drop along the shoreline, and the undead, unbreathing as they were, were incapable of floating.