Nothing is Certain

by Shawn C. McLain

“ OK, so I’m looking for a big place with a wall,” he told a squirrel that ran away. The thought of a huge old house made Kyle smile. He had always liked the big old gothic houses. “Probably haunted and shit. That would be cool.” The smile slipped from his face. “Krissy wouldn’t like that too much.”

  A noise from the trees across the road made his blood freeze. Kyle stared into the underbrush, straining his eyes. A rabbit scampered out of the bushes and across the road. Breathing a sigh of relief, he returned to his search. Finally he located the section he was looking for. There were three—no, four potential places.

  “OK, that is one seriously large bunny,” Kyle said, not wanting to turn around. He patted his hips and realized he left the gun in the car. “That was stupid,” he chastised himself, still not turning around.

  Wishing desperately to see a deer, he began to slowly turn back to the car. A thump and then a dragging met his ears. “Deer don’t limp,” he said out loud. His gaze fell on a man. He might have been in his forties; he could have been twenty as far as Kyle could tell, as the man was a mess. Several holes in his shirt and pant legs told of being shot, but the tear across his cheek screamed of being bitten.

  “ Shit!” Kyle breathed as the man crossed the path back to the car. “OK, just run around the fucker—aw, nuts!” he spat as a woman slunk out of the bush. She raised her hands to him; a gun hung on one of her fingers, and the arm was bloodstained and bitten.

  In panic Kyle ran away from the car, and the zombies followed. He turned to the woods but thought better of it, as his two new friends had just come from there. Changing course quickly, he ran past them toward the car. It was a smooth cut. I should never have given up soccer, he thought for a second. The driver’s door still hung open, but he ran along the passenger side. Waiting at the back for a beat, he glanced back. It had worked; they were following toward the passenger side. He ran to the open door and jumped in, slamming the door shut and locking it quickly.

  He hadn’t run that far, but it felt as if he had run a minute mile. “Yeah, ya dumb fucks, ya can’t get me now!” He turned the key, slipped the car into gear, and sped past the confused ghouls.

  New Day, New Trouble

  The sun was bright; the room held a chill, and Nikki ’s eyes hurt. The dark circles under her eyes contrasted the white of her knuckles on the phone. She had been awake all night. No one had come, no one had called, and no one answered. They had started moaning somewhere around midnight, one or two at first. The gunfire had died out not long after. The acrid smell of smoke still permeated everything. She knew someplace close by was still burning. She had seen them in the light it cast. They were in the tens by the four-o’-clock chime of the old church clock a block over. Now there was a stream of shambling, gore-covered undead.

  The small radio she held to her ear to keep the volume low told her things were bad. There were evacuation sites she was supposed to go to. Through the night the list got shorter and shorter, with reports of lost communication. Before, there was just an automated recording, saying to stay tuned for further instructions; the announcer had said, “Survivors are urged to stay in their homes. Keep the doors locked and stay away from the windows. The National Guard will be going door to door to evacuate civilians. All first responders are to report to the following locations…” Nikki had given up on the radio not long after that.

  The street in front of the store was now full of them —stumbling, shuffling dead. Nikki eased her fingers off the hard plastic, and the phone dropped into her lap. Her head drooped and then sprang up, eyes wide in terror. Had she just nodded off, or had she been asleep awhile? She checked her watch; it was barely seven thirty. She had just nodded off. Picking up the phone, she turned it over slowly, as if that would make it less disappointing. Still no calls; however, there was service. Fingers flew over the numbers—no answer; the next set of digits—no answer. After several failed attempts, the phone voiced its need for power through a series of angry beeps.

  Crawling through the store, Nikki found her goal: a display of phone chargers. As she pulled one down, her shirt got snagged on a peg. Several items clattered to the floor. Nikki froze. Several hands, faces, and bodies collided with the front window. Rolling onto her back, she watched the ceiling and prayed for them to go away.

  Watching

  Alistair sat in the middle of his couch, watching the world fall into chaos. His multiple satellite receivers with several hundred channels from around the globe had steadily been going dark throughout the day. China was the first to go to black. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the undead or the statecontrolled media. He had been amazed at how different the Chinese news had been from the rest of the world. They had contended the entire time that there was no illness in the countryside and for the population to leave the cities in an orderly fashion until the government could sterilize the areas.

  Alistair had wondered what “sterilized” had meant until a report from Korea made it clear what the Chinese had planned. Several large metropolises had been wiped from the map. China had used some of its nuclear arsenal on itself.

  “Nice to see you’re comfortable,” Rebecca commented as she came around the couch.

  Alistair looked up at his wife and sighed. “China nuked itself. Can you believe that?”

  Rebecca slumped down next to her husband and picked up the remote. “I thought it would be North Korea,” she noted, changing over to the BBC.

  “ No, they have said nothing. They are still doing the normal stuff as if nothing were happening there,” he replied, scratching the stubble on his chin. Rebecca watched the BBC for a few moments. London was in flames, and the military was trying to get the living out.

  Alistair rubbed his eyes and looked at the screen. “What station is this?” he asked, as there was no announcer describing the scene. Then it hit him. “Good Lord, is that downtown?” he gasped.

  Rebecca had switched over from the BBC and was now going between several traffic cameras and then to a few security cameras they had hacked into. “What the hell are they doing?” she muttered, watching a group of people on the top level of the parking garage next to the hospital. “Oh, they need to get moving!” she said as she moved to the edge of the couch.

  “They were there all night,” Alistair noted, but he, too, had moved to the edge. “Hey, get out of there!” he called, knowing full well that the people in the armored car couldn’t hear him.

  “Oh shit, here they come!” Rebecca pointed at the screen. Zombies began to stumble up the ramp onto the top of the parking structure.

  “ Go, go, go!” the couple screamed in the softly lit living room with the seventy-two-inch LCD screen and comfortable microfiber couch. They held hands and gasped as the truck started to move. The zombies had now surrounded it. Several were flung off as the vehicle swung wildly around and dropped out of sight down the ramp. With a huge sigh of relief, the husband and wife slumped back on the couch and then turned to look at each other.

  “ I really think I hate this new reality TV,” Alistair said with a sigh. “See if you can find Kyle. I’ll go make some coffee,” he added, getting up. He gave his wife a kiss and wandered back to the kitchen. The guilt of being so protected while watching others fight for their lives sat heavy in his stomach.

  Shaking his head, he stood up straighter as he entered the gleaming gourmet kitchen. “I knew something like this was coming. Most people just buried their heads in the sand and trusted the government. It’s not my fault—I just planned better.” Scanning the packed pantry, he located the coffee shelf and selected an open container. He only felt slightly better.

  Finding a Friend

  The fog had completely lifted now, revealing what should have been a clear, sunny day. Instead, the sunlight was dimmed by the smoke from the still-burning fires. Kyle was painfully aware of how hungry he was. He needed to find something to eat—and his parents. His uncle was one of those survivalist nuts, as Kyle’s father put it. For years he had been prepared for a mili
tary assault or a government breakdown, so zombies shouldn’t be a problem for whatever defenses Alistair had put in place. Kyle tried to remember what his uncle had done to make money. All he knew was that Uncle Alistair had a lot of it—and spent a lot of it on his bunkers.

  “ I bet Dad no longer calls him a nutbag.” Kyle laughed. A frown creased his face. “Now all I have to do is find the place.” He tried to remember if they ever visited the house as he drove through the empty streets of a neighborhood. It had to be one of those big old houses he had seen. It had to be walled off; it just had to be. So all I need to do is find the tallest wall with barbed wire and spikes,he thought as he passed a house whose manicured lawn was rutted by the tires of a car that now sat in the living room.

  His stomach gave a loud grumble as he stopped at the end of the block. He sat waiting, staring up at the stop sign. “Dude, it’s a stop sign, so it’s not going to turn green, and what the fuck? Not like a cop is going to give you a ticket.” He laughed at himself. “Man, I need something to eat.”

  Slowly he pulled into the driveway of the nearest house. The front door was open. “Well, that will make it easier.” He shrugged. Looking around, he noticed it seemed deserted enough. The streets were empty. He wasn’t sure if this made him more uncomfortable. Where did everyone go? he thought.

  He killed the engine and eased the door open. Cautiously he crept toward the door. Smiling, he clicked off the safety; he had remembered the gun this time. Pushing the door clear with a shaking hand, he entered the front hall. A kitchen stood off to the right that opened up into a living room. A short hall led to the left and what looked like bedrooms. All the doors were closed down the hall.

  Ignoring the closed doors, Kyle went straight for the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, he refrained from shouting as he grabbed an apple and some bread. He devoured the apple and rummaged through the fridge drawers, where he found some lunch meat. As he made a sandwich, a cat leaped onto the counter. Kyle yelped; grabbing his gun, he pointed it at the mass of fur. It rubbed against his hand. Rolling his head on his shoulders, he shook off the tension and then returned to making his meal. He sat for a moment, petting the cat and eating his lunch. He pulled a little piece of meat out and offered it to the cat. He smiled as it ate happily from his hand. Grabbing another apple, Kyle decided to check out the rest of the house.

  The cat followed him as he walked down the hall and tried the first door. “Hey, little dude, watch our backs,” he whispered to the cat as he turned the knob. It opened into a bedroom, a young boy’s by the look of it. Several cartoon posters hung on the walls, and action figures were scattered over the floor.

  He tried the next door. It was locked. He pressed his ear to the door and heard nothing. He gave the door a soft knock and listened. Still silent on the other side. Pulling a small knife from his pocket, he worked it between the door and the frame until it clicked and the door opened slightly. Looking in he saw the bathroom. The window next to the toilet was open, and bloodstains ran down the wall. Not looking in the tub, he closed the door and made sure it was still locked. The cat was at the end of the hall, staring at him.

  It mewed softly as he approached the door. Kyle finished the apple and threw the core aside. He wiped his hands on his pants and retrieved the gun from his belt. He slowly turned the knob and opened the door. The sight that met his eyes stunned him. On the blood-soaked bed was a man. He was naked and tied to the headboard and footboard. He struggled to free himself as Kyle entered the room. The man made no sound, as his lower jaw was missing. The cat at Kyle’s ankle hissed at the sight. Kyle only laughed.

  “ Well, either you were turning and your family tied you up to be safe, or you died doing some really kinky shit.” Kyle froze as the sound of a chair falling over from the kitchen made the cat jump. The man on the bed was more agitated, thrashing wildly against his restraints. Kyle raised the gun and turned to go back down the hall. Two zombies entered the hall; the cat hissed at Kyle’s ankle.

  “ Not to worry, little dude; watch this.” Kyle smiled down at the cat and raised the gun. He fired, and the zombie on the left fell backward and did not move. Kyle sighted in the second zombie, pulled the trigger, and…nothing. He pulled back the chamber to clear the misfire and saw he was empty.

  The cat was backing away, as was Kyle. The zombie was approaching quickly. Stiff legs carried it ever closer. Kyle’s hands dipped in and patted at his pockets, only to find a few loose bullets. He stumbled into the bedroom. The tied zombie was now making a gurgling sound and had freed one hand by tearing it apart to get it out from the restraint. Its thumb lay on the bed, and two fingers dangled loosely on sinew as it grabbed at the air.

  Kyle looked back to the door as the zombie approached. His foot slipped out from under him; a small, furry flash crossed the floor. Kyle was painfully on his ass. “Dude!” he yelled at the retreating cat he had just fallen over. He was lying against the bed. The zombie approached from the hall. Above him a creature struggled to free itself further. He could hear the anger and frustration in its gurgling moans.

  Feverishly Kyle again patted down his pockets. Panicked fingers grasped in his pockets. Three bullets scattered across the floor; he still held two in his palm. Pulling back the chamber, he tried to get the bullet in. The zombie loomed over him as he got the shell loaded. Shaking he aimed at the zombie. It was barley a foot away, leaning toward him, mouth open, a black hole guarded by gray teeth. He could smell the death emanating from it. He fired; the zombie stumbled back and fell against the dresser. Jesus, that thing got rotten in a hurry, Kyle thought as he wiped the sweat from his face.

  As his panic calmed, Kyle became aware that something was on his lap. Picking the object up, he examined its pink, spongy texture. Turning it over, he saw the nail; it was one of the fingers from the zombie above him. Looking up he saw the other finger about to drop off the mutilated hand.

  He was instantly on his feet, staggering away from the bed. Realizing he still held onto the finger, he cried, “Dude! Sick!” Flicking the finger across the room, he yelled, “Shit!” The zombie on the floor began to crawl toward him. Quickly Kyle loaded another bullet and fired. This time the bullet found its mark, and the ghoul’s head slumped forward, blood and brain oozing on the rug. A tearing sound from the right caused Kyle to look back over his shoulder.

  The bone of the tied zombie ’s leg was starting to show. Flesh was separating from its other wrist as it fought to get free. Its hand slapped at the bed, sending the other finger flying at Kyle’s head. The cat hissed from the corner. Kyle batted down the digit and then grabbed for a loose shell off the floor. He grabbed the first finger again, yelped, threw it again, and pick up a bullet. He loaded it but stayed his hand. The knee of the zombie was beginning to separate from the lower leg.

  Bent over, quickly gathering the last two bullets, Kyle straightened up. He backed out of the room, quickly calling for the cat. “Dude, Dude Cat, come on, we’re leaving!” The cat followed him out of the room. Kyle pulled the door closed. The cat watched his movements. Together they hurried down the hall. The cat paused at the front door as Kyle ran through it. Out in the street, he saw it was no longer deserted. The cat meowed plaintively from the door but would not follow.

  “ Dude! Dude!Come on!” Kyle yelled and patted his leg, urging the cat to follow. Several zombies were converging on the house now. “Shit!” he cried. He stepped toward the car, hesitated, ran forward, and scooped the trembling cat out of the doorway. The bed zombie had extracted itself from the room, leaving most of its limbs behind. Kyle watched, reminded of the Terminator at the end of the first movie. A nip on the chin from the cat told him he was wasting time. Running for the car with the cat over his shoulder, he dodged a couple of the undead. Wrenching the door open, he tossed the little creature onto the passenger seat and slammed his door shut. As he turned the key, the engine roared into life. He backed over a zombie and tore through the lawn.

  The cat was standing on its back legs, lookin
g out the window. “Dude, what the hell? You need to learn to come when I call you,” Kyle admonished the cat. It turned to look at him and gave a small “Merrow” as it sat back on the seat. It seemed to be hanging its head. Kyle looked at the cat. It looked back at him with sad eyes. “Apology accepted,” he sighed, “but don’t hesitate again, you big fraidycat.” He scratched it behind the ears, and the cat purred loudly.

  Do Something

  “I don’t know! Hack into the road-construction signs! Make all the lights point to the house! Do something to get him here!” Jen screamed at the monitor.

  “ Jen, you’re not helping,” Rebecca stated calmly. “Alistair has tried to do all those things and more. The problem is, the power is out in some areas, and the lines are down in others. We can’t access the road-warning signs, and even if we did…it might not be Kyle who shows up.”

  “Have you seen other survivors?” Ray asked. “Why wouldn’t we want to help them?”

  “Well…” Alistair began tentatively, “some of the things we’ve seen haven’t exactly put some of the survivors too far above the zombies.” Alistair paused, not sure if he should explain. “I watched a camera from the park. This guy killed two other people for their camping stuff.” He sighed and continued, “I think you’d be better off with just people you know.”

  “No! That is crazy. We have food, water, shelter, and safety. How can we not try to get as many people here as possible?” Ray demanded.

  “I don’t want as many as possible; I just want my son!” Jen shouted from behind him.

  “I want him here, too. But we can’t ignore other survivors. People need to help each other now more than ever,” Ray started.

  “Ray, that is not the best idea…” Alistair interjected.

  “ And if we open this place up, maybe someone will know where Kyle is hiding, or where others are, and Kyle could be with them. Or—” Ray was cut off by an angry shout from Alistair that was quickly cut off by Rebecca.