Just Another Day

by Jacob Louis Sims

  I jumped down and landed right next to him, in a dismount that any Olympic hopeful would’ve creamed their jeans to if they had seen. Well, it wasn’t that good, but I was still proud of it, ‘cause I had done it without breaking my fuckin’ legs.

  “Okay, Gus, this is it!!! Let’s move!!!”

  And then we were off, on the last great run of our long, terrible journey through the hell that our once-beloved city had become.

  21

  If we were in a movie, we would’ve had some cool fuckin’ victory song playing for our soundtrack, something heroic and empowering, but as it was in real life and not some stupid-ass over-blown, CGI-fucked movie, the only soundtrack we had was the moans of the undead and the deafening blasts from our weapons as we made our way to the little garage door.

  We were a little bit over half-way there, when a sound that I hadn’t heard since back when I was poundin’ the ground in the urban shitholes of Kosovo and Iraq popped in my ear holes - the sound of a fuckin’ rocket flying through the air, one that sounded like it was coming right at us.

  “Gus!!! Get down!!! Get the fuck down!!! Incoming!!!”

  We dove to the ground, with our backs faced to where it sounded like the rocket was coming from (not because it was planned that way, but because the packs on our fronts didn’t really allow us to land on our stomachs). The rocket exploded less than a second later, somewhere close behind us, raining zombie gore and tons of blood over the entire area. We both immediately rose to a knee, back-to-back, weapons at the ready and fingers on the triggers, having no clue as to what the fuck had just happened. We honestly didn’t know if we were being helped, or if we were being hunted as possible zombies, the fuckin’ rocket landed so goddamn close to us.

  “Jesus Christ, Dave!!! Holy shit, that was fucking close!!!” Gus yelled, the both of us firing at the zombies that were getting closer and closer to us. “Who the fuck is shooting fucking rockets at us?!!!”

  His question was answered before he had even finished his sentence, when at least a platoons’ worth of people came running and firing at the zombies from between the houses that were closest to Route 251, cutting them down in their tracks. It was the warriors we had seen from Schimmer’s the day before. The glorious bastards had survived the night and were still fighting!!! I couldn’t fucking believe it!!!

  They rushed right past us, quick nods, pats on our backs, and the occasional pound being the only communication as they cleared the street of its zombies. We rose from our crouch and watched as they quickly and expertly dispatched of the ones that had not been killed by us in our escape from the house - which was by then fully ablaze and crumbling, with a massive ring of zombies around it that was burning and melting into an unrecognizable mess.

  “Well, Gus… after you, buddy,” I said, gesturing to the garage door where Sue and Frank were standing.

  “Hah! Oh, my god, Dave, I am so happy! Okay… let’s go. But… let’s go side-by side, okay? Neither of us deserves to be ahead of the other here. We both have been through a lot since yesterday, and we should walk up there as equals. Plus, it’ll look cool, like in the movies.”

  “Ha-hah! Okay. That works for me… In that case, walk slow with a little swagger in your step. Alright? Like the motherfuckin’ badasses we are.”

  “Fuckin’ A. Let’s do this.”

  So we strutted our shit to the waiting Sue and Frank, enjoying the first real peaceful moment we had had since yesterday morning, with the sun shining down from a beautiful blue sky. We had fucking made it.

  After the tearful reunion - of which I stood to the side during, not wanting to get in the way - we made our way upstairs to Gus and Sue’s apartment. I was so fuckin’ relieved that Frank and Sue were still kickin’ and that Gus had got there in one piece.

  It got me thinking about my situation, my family and friends. I thought, that if those two were still alive, maybe some of my family and friends were, too. I highly doubted that even three-quarters of them were still alive, but I figured that at least a few of them had to have lived through this mess. At least one, for sure. There was no way that dude was dead, no fuckin’ way.

  Only thing that sucked, was that they were so fucking far away. I decided that I would leave the next day. I had to know. But not until I got me a long, hot shower, a good night’s rest, and a change of clothes. And of course, a few dee-licious, cold motherfuckin’ beers. A man has got to have his priorities!

  Part Deux

  Adventures in the Wild…

  “I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will,

  I’ll go to it laughing.”

  -Mr. Stubb, Moby Dick

  “What is that feeling when you’re driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? – it’s the too-huge world vaulting us, and it’s good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.”

  -Salvatore “Sal” Paradise, On the Road

  “Why O why did I ever leave my hobbit-hole?”

  -Bilbo Baggins, The Hobbit

  22

  When we all got upstairs, to the kitchen table where we all sat - not saying anything, just sitting quietly across from one another, glad to be together again - we could still hear the warriors moving on down the block, clearing the area as they went: their percussive gunfire, the explosions from tossed grenades, the whoosh and huge boom of the AT4’s. We could even hear their laughter, their camaraderie - something Gus and I knew about from the day before when we rescued the groomsmen from the trailer - plain and simple, killing zombies was fun. And it brought you together more than any sport ever could, ‘cause it really was life or death.

  It was odd that they didn’t stop to see how we were, though, but I had the feeling that by just seeing us alive, they knew that everything would be alright. After all, the majority of humanity seemed to have been wiped out, turned into the shambling undead, so the sight of a handful of survivors amidst all that death would’ve said a lot, especially to warriors such as they.

  We eventually got to talking after a while - slowly at first, each of us too afraid to say anything or ask any questions for fear of opening fresh wounds that we may not have known about since the whole thing started (it was only a little over twenty-four hours, but it was probably the worst twenty-four that any of us had ever lived through) - but as the time passed and the refreshments and food started making their rounds, the conversation started flowing easily, like it had before on any regular, old night.

  Gus and I told Sue and Frank of our little adventure from Gus’s harrowing rescue of myself and the late Linn, to our strange night with a kitchen zombie and our valiant attempt at escaping the flaming house and crossing the street - such simple tasks, under ordinary circumstances.

  They then told us about what had happened to them since Gus’s departure: how not even five minutes after Gus had sped off, the streets began to be filled with zombies walking from the nearby highway and mall (they knew that by the large number of teenage zombies that had shown up); how a few hours later, they let some girl into the house who was being attacked by zombies in the street, and how later she turned from a hidden bite and attacked Sue and Frank - where she was stabbed in the chest with a huge knife from Sue, and tossed off the bedroom balcony by Frank after chasing him all through the apartment; how they fought their way to the drive-way in between the houses, using Gus’s golf clubs to bash zombie heads in, to where their new invalid neighbor was being attacked - only to have to fight their way back empty-handed.

  Just like Gus and I, they had their own unforgettable day and night - those stories mentioned, and many more not. While they weren’t out amongst the undead as much as Gus and I were, what they went through was just as terrible as what we had gone through - just in different ways. I was personally very glad that they were safe and secure in the house for most of that day and night, ‘cause to be unarmed in all this crap was no way to be. I just wish we had had the chance to ask Clark how he di
d it before he turned, ‘cause I figured that information would’ve been useful down the road.

  We talked until the sun went down and then talked some more, the table and counters getting covered with the spoils of a good night: empty beer cans, piles of dirty plates and silver-ware, and empty food containers. It was like we were having a party, just a party where we couldn’t play any music, turn on the lights, or talk too loud. Sure, the streets had been cleared out by the nomadic warriors, and looked pretty safe, but all it would’ve took was one little zombie to hear or see us, and the fun would’ve been ruined. We were taking no chances.

  Hours and hours went by as we talked of our escapades, then talked of everything else, till finally, we all decided that it was time to hit the si-zack. There was no argument from either me or Gus on that one. We were both wiped the fuck out after the escape, and I was pleasantly drunk, too. After we took our showers we so desperately needed (it felt so fuckin’ good to get all that fuckin’ blood and gore off me), we all bedded down for the night. Frank let me take the spare bed he had been sleeping in since the beginning - opting to sleep on the couch - and as soon as I laid down in that bitch, I was out like a fuckin’ light. So comfy it was, I slept the sleep of the dead. Not that they ever sleep.

  23

  I woke up the next morning and walked into the kitchen, where Sue was already up and at ‘em, cooking scrambled eggs and bacon for us all. It was so fuckin’ surreal, seeing her do such a normal thing like cooking breakfast, when right outside, beyond the walls and windows, the world was falling apart. Blew my mind. But it smelled so fuckin’ good. She even had a radio on the counter playing music quietly, that was being DJ-ed by an actual live person. And that dude was fuckin’ hilarious!

  “Damn, that smells fuckin’ awesome, Sue!” I said to her as I was getting a Hawaiian Punch from the fridge. “Looks good, too. Can’t wait to dig in.”

  “Well, you have to wait until Gus and Frank are out of bed, Dave,” she replied, laughing.

  “Yeah, that’s cool. I can wait. I’ll just sit here and enjoy this refreshing, healthy and fruity beverage,” I said as I took a swig and sat down at the kitchen table. “You know how this feels, just sitting here? Man… it feels so good.”

  “I bet it does, after the day and night you guys had. I couldn’t imagine having to go through all that. It must’ve been horrible.”

  “Wasn’t no vacation, that’s for sure. But we made it here - that’s all that matters.”

  “Yeah, thank god for that. Dave… I want to thank you for helping Gus get back to me safely. I was so scared that I would never see him again.”

  “Yeah, well… thanks. No prob. We helped each other out, though. I mean, if it wasn’t for him, I’d’ve been fuckin’ dead, walking around with poop in my pants and an annoying piece of gristle stuck between my teeth. Now that would’ve sucked!”

  She laughed her ass off at that (of course she would, I’m so fuckin’ funny!), and we both then fell into a comfortable silence, where she continued to tending to the grub and I finished Punchy. About five minutes later, Gus and Frank stumbled into the kitchen, awoken by the delicious odors that had drifted into their respective sleeping quarters.

  “Fuck yeah!” Frank said as he appreciatively glanced over Sue’s shoulder at the spread on the stove. “I swear I was just having a dream about bacon - and here it is!”

  “Looks good, Sue. Smells good, too,” said Gus. “Man, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.”

  “Horse cock,” I said under my breath, but still loud enough to be heard by all.

  “Yeah, whatever, Dave,” Gus said, laughing, as he and Frank sat down at the table. “Although, if it was cooked…”

  “Hah! Shit, man, if I was hungry enough I’d eat anything!” I said. “Dog, cat, horse-whatever, …fuck, I’d even eat people if I had to. But not raw like those fuckers outside do. I’d have to have my human cooked, maybe like they do in the movies - where they have ‘em on a spit, turning them slowly so as to cook ‘em evenly? Heard people taste like chicken, you know.”

  “Well, Dave,” Sue said as she was getting plates from the cupboard. “You’ll just have to make do with this for now. Sorry. Dig in, guys.”

  After we all had eaten our fill, we made our way to the living room - Gus sat in his recliner, and Sue, myself, and Frank sat on the couch where we always sat, like it was just another normal, ordinary day.

  “So… now what?” Sue asked.

  “Well… you guys want to watch a movie while we still have electricity?” asked Gus. “That will kill some time.”

  Since none of us could think of anything better to do, as we were all stuck indoors for an unforeseeable amount of time - unless we wanted to go outside and risk getting turned into zombie haute cuisine - the watching of movies seemed to be the safest bet, one that we all would’ve been able to enjoy as we were all avid movie lovers. Gus put in “Dawn of the Dead,” (why the fuck not, right?) and we all sat back to enjoy the film, with beers in hand that I had got from the fridge.

  After the movie was over I excused myself, ‘cause I had just farted, and went on back to the guest room where I had slept the night before, crop-dusting Frank as I passed by him. I heard him gagging as I walked out of the kitchen, laughing as I went.

  In the room, I sat on the bed and went through the pockets of my pants that I had been wearing for the past couple days (I was then wearing a pair of Gus’s sweats and an old t-shirt of his, too). They were a fuckin’ mess, all caked in dried blood and gore, dirt, and god knows what else. Stank to high heaven, too, like a dead racoon in the summer. I couldn’t believe that I had slept with them in the room, but I was fuckin’ tired, though. I pulled out thirty-seven fifty in cash and change - now useless, a couple receipts from the gas station and Dollar General, and my cell phone.

  Looking at my phone, I saw that it really wasn’t in that bad of shape. The little screen on the front of the flapper was shattered, but upon opening it up, the interior screen was intact. I began to think I was wrong when I told Gus it was broken the day before, that maybe the only thing wrong with it was that the battery was dead. I tossed the stank-ass pants (and the shirt I was wearing, too, ‘cause it was fuckin’ nasty) out the window - after making sure there were no zombies around - and went back to the living room, phone in hand.

  “Gus, do you have a charger I can use? I think my phone’s okay… just dead.”

  “Yeah, here you go,” he said, as he grabbed a charger that was on the floor in between his chair and the wall, and handed it to me. “Hope it’s not broken.”

  “Me too,” I said as I plugged the phone into the charger and the charger into the outlet behind the TV speaker.

  I couldn’t fucking believe it! My phone worked! The shattered screen illuminated when I plugged it in, and when I opened the flap, the inner screen looked normal and said that it was taking a charge. Fuckin’ A!

  Upon waking, I had thought about my previous plan of going on an overland trek to Streator to see if any of my family was still alive, and had decided against it. I had realized, after a good night’s rest, that to do it would’ve been suicide. I figured instead that I would stay with Gus, Sue, and Frank as long as they’d have me.

  But if I had the ability to call them up and check on them without risking my life, that would’ve been great. Even though I thought that the odds of any of them being alive was still very slim. Except for Bob. I hit the power button and set the phone on top of the speaker, grabbed more beers for myself and the others from the fridge, sat back down on the couch between Sue and Frank, and waited to see if the phone would hold a charge and work. I really hoped that it would.

  24

  We were on the third movie of the day, Sgt. Bilko (for some god-awful reason), when my phone vibrated twice. But it wasn’t the incoming phone call vibrate, which lasts for a little while - it was the short, quick vibrates that signify either a text or a voice-mail.

  I sat there for a minute with my mouth hanging open (�
�cause I really hadn’t expected any contact to be made - just hoped), then jumped up off that fuckin’ couch like I had been poked in the ass with a big fuckin’ needle, and nearly flew over to my phone. I was almost too afraid to pick it up - I just stood there with my left hand hovering over it for a minute, unsure if it really had vibrated. Then it vibrated one more time, and stopped.

  “Fuck!!!” I quietly yelled.

  I snagged that bitch off the speaker and popped the flapper open, and saw that I had seventeen missed text messages, eight missed calls, and seven voice messages - all spanning from the time I had stepped out my stairwell door to right before I had picked up the phone from the speaker. I was so fucking pissed! The whole fucking time I was on the run, people had been trying and trying to get ahold of me, and I never even felt the fucking thing vibrate or heard it ring (other than when Gus called) once. Not even once!

  All of a sudden, it hit me; that because I hadn’t answered my phone, people that might’ve needed me could’ve died, and it would’ve been all my fault. I was so sick to my stomach - I felt the acids just a-swirling around in there - that I started to fuckin’ puke. I tried to make it to the bathroom before I spewed, but was only able to make it as far as the kitchen sink. At least it wasn’t all over myself, like it was so many times before.

  No one came in to see if I was okay, and I was glad for it, ‘cause I didn’t want someone hovering over me and asking me if everything was alright, if I was gonna be okay. ‘Cause the fact of the matter was, I had no clue. As I was rinsing out my puke from the sink, I realized that my “gut” reaction to the multitude of missed calls and texts could’ve very well been wrong. For all I knew, everyone that had tried to contact me could’ve been doing the same thing that I was doing - just chillin’ with friends, watching movies, and drinking some beers.