Nothing is Certain

by Shawn C. McLain

  Growling in response he pointed at her. He held the ladder. He pointed at himself and motioned climbing. Halfway through his pantomime, she was waving him on hurriedly. A noise in the darkness made the interior that much more inviting. While she was second-guessing if she really did want to go first, her decision was made as her hand was thrust onto the side of the ladder. It was held there, the eyes in the mask boring into hers.

  “ Yeah, yeah,” she whispered again, indicating to him to hurry. Brows furrowed under the knitted eyeholes. A grumble sounding like “shuddalefter” disappeared in the noise of the ladder scraping down slightly as the feet sank into the soft earth.

  Even in this, his movements were quiet. He was at the top, crouching just below the window. Slowly he inched up to peer through the window. He stood up completely, checking out the area as far as he could. Nikki cringed when he tapped on the glass and returned to his crouch. The ladder shook; she tightened her grip. He whistled down. She watched as he gestured that he couldn’t see any movement in the room. He was standing again and trying the window. It opened easily, and he slipped through. Nikki’s foot was on the bottom rung when his head appeared out the window. He motioned for her to wait. A deep frown crossed her face. Now that she was alone, the darkness seemed to creep ever closer. Her hearing was returning slowly, yet every sound seemed amplified a hundredfold. Her hands gripped the ladder as she nervously tried to see any movement from the shadows. Every rustle of dry leaves and every animal noise screamed an approaching zombie.

  “ Come on, come on, where are you?” she whispered. A horrible thought crossed her mind: What if he found one, and it got him? Her attention returned to the light above. Terrified that she was alone again, she started to back away from the cabin, keeping the window in sight. Her breath exhaled in a rush of relief when his head poked out the window again.

  “ Psst,” he hissed, motioning for her to come up. She was on the ladder and halfway up in seconds. Something was moving in the trees. Glancing up she could see he was watching something else, not her, as he held the ladder steady. She paused, looking back over her shoulder. “Come on, hurry it up,” he hissed. His order, mixed with the crunching of the bushes, urged her to the opening.

  Shaking with fear and exertion, she allowed him to grab her arms. “What took so long?” she demanded as she began to climb through.

  “Had to make sure it was clear,” he grumbled as he helped her through the window. Once she was in, he knocked over the ladder.

  “How are we supposed to get out if we need to?” she asked, exasperated. The mistrust began to return in her stomach. Her hand found the hilt of the knife.

  “Through the front door,” he replied, ignoring her reach. He pulled off the ski mask. He was older than she was but not much, maybe twenty or so.

  “Then why did you make me climb the ladder?”

  “Huh?” he grunted, while rubbing his hands through his messed hair and scratching his chin. He started to walk away. She stood dumbfounded and watched him go, shaking her head at him.

  “Brilliant. I’m stuck with an idiot,” she mumbled.

  “OK. So where is the body?” she asked with more bravery than she felt. She began to inspect the room. There was no sign of a struggle, no blood on the floor or walls.

  “What body?” he asked, inspecting the lamp. It was a battery-operated one, very bright. “Well, there is no one here, so I assume they are dead. Why else would the place be empty?” She glared at him, her hands on her hips.

  “Don’t know.” He shrugged.

  “Did you check the cellar? They are always in the cellar,” she said, her brave tone wavering.

  “Nah, just up here.”

  She started to panic and head to the stairs. “So they could be below us right now?” Fear drove her voice up an octave. She was torn between the window and the stairs. All she wanted to do was get out. She was positive the cellar would be teeming with zombies all ready to spill out and get her, or perhaps there was a sea of them milling about in front of the door. Her only escape route was blocked because this dolt knocked over the ladder. She had been having nightmares like this since the first night.

  Picking up the battery-powered lantern that was lighting the room, he walked over to her. “My name is Shane, and I will not let them get you. What is your name?”

  “What? We have to get out of here. I know we do.” She was heading toward full-on panic now.

  “Hey, it’s cool. The downstairs is clean; there is no cellar. I don’t know where the owner went or when they will be back, or your name,” he tried to reassure her.

  “You said you didn’t go downstairs! What if they come back and kill us for breaking into the house? What if they bring them back with them? Then we’ll be surrounded, and—and…”

  “I went down the stairs and could see most of the rooms,” Shane soothed. “Shhhh…”

  “What?” she hissed and dropped to a crouch. “Do you hear something?”

  “No, I was trying to calm you down.” He laughed.

  “Oh, this is funny?” she demanded. “You’ve brought us into the house of death!”

  “No, but you are.” He was smiling at her. “Damn, jumpy, you need to relax—house of death.”

  She glared at him. “Nikki,” she huffed.

  “Hi, Nikki.” He held out his hand and added, “Can I call you Nik?”

  She glared at it for a second and then shook it. “No,” she replied.

  “Whatever.” He shrugged, letting go of her hand. He grabbed the lantern as he headed down the stairs. Darkness enveloped her for a moment. Fear welled up, and she hurried after him.

  At the bottom of the stairs, she found herself in a small living room with a fireplace; to her left was a small kitchen. A door stood to the right. She hissed at Shane and pointed to the door. “It is truly scary in there,” he whispered. “A horrible sight.”

  She backed away, hiding behind him; her voice cracked as her hand gripped his arm tightly. “Blood? Body parts? Body?”

  “ Shitter.” He guffawed and received a painful punch in the arm for his joke. He tried to act as if it didn’t hurt. Rubbing the area, he decided not to mess with her too much right now. He also began to second-guess the wisdom of giving her that knife.

  Shane began to build a fire, so Nikki curled up on the couch. Pulling an old afghan off the back of a lumpy piece of furniture, she wrapped it around herself, not caring that it smelled musty. The fire crackled and spread warmth through the room.

  She didn ’t realize how tired she was until she woke with a start. For a second she didn’t know where she was. Then it all came back, and the hope that was always there when she woke was gone— the hope that it had all been a terrible dream. When she had been hiding in the attic for those days— weeks?—she really had no idea how long, but when she would wake, she would lie there for a moment with her eyes closed. She would try to ignore that she was not in her bed, and for just that moment, she would think, When I open my eyes, I’ll be in my bed, and none of it will have happened. But then she did open her eyes, and she would be staring up at the rafters and know it all had.

  Rolling onto her side, she looked over at Shane. She watched him for a few moments and wondered what he was thinking. He was staring into the fire. Occasionally he would poke at the coals, causing the log to spark. There seemed no other point to his ministrations to the fire. They had been in the cabin for a couple of hours and hadn’t spoken more since he had told her where the bathroom was. Her hand found the hilt of the knife; the gun he had given her was lying on the floor within reach. As she watched him, she couldn’t help but wonder at his intentions. She was very grateful to him for dispatching the undead and for helping her, but he made her nervous. He looked as if he had been living outside for a while, judging by his unkempt, matted hair, scruffy beard, and filthy clothes. She had only been forced out of her hiding place two days ago.

  “So what’s the plan?” she asked. She grimaced at the startled jump from him,
as if he had forgotten she was there.

  “Well, I think we should rest up here for a while…get cleaned up.” He looked down at himself. “Been a while for me.”

  She decided not to comment.

  “ Then,” he continued without looking at her, “I was heading to my uncle Alistair’s. He is a survival nut and has this bunker thing that is all decked out for the end of the world…So that seems like the place to be.” Shane poked the fire again. “You can come along if you want.”

  “Thanks,” Nikki responded, but the thought made her a little uneasy. Two guys in a bunker and her—that sounded like a safe bet. “I’ll think about it.”

  As if hearing her concern, Shane added, “Uncle Alistair’s wife Rebecca is really cool. She’d love to have another woman around to talk to.”

  A wife, huh? Well, this sounded a little better. “So where are they?” She decided to see what Shane was like and would make a decision based on him.

  “ Next county over. They got this place next to the mountain. Backs right up to it so you can’t get to the house from the back unless you rappel down to it.” He was absentmindedly scratching his beard. “It is surrounded by, like, a ten-foot-high wall that has razor wire on top. The wall is two feet thick and has this crazy metal gate that retracts into the front wall.” He closed his eyes, trying to remember the details. “About every twenty feet out from the main wall are fences, all the way out to the main road.” Shane got more excited the more he spoke.

  “Wow, how did the hell could anyone afford all that?” Nikki couldn’t help but ask. A house built into a mountain had to be really expensive.

  “ Oh, Uncle Alistair made a lot of money on real estate or something. Dad never told me.” Shane jabbed the fire and was quiet for a moment. “Well, Uncle Alistair has lots of money and is really paranoid. So he built the compound. It has solar power, wind power, rain collection, and a well. He has a generator with something like ten years of fuel and more weapons than you can imagine. Some of them I don’t think are legal, but like I said, he has money.” Shane turned to look at Nikki. “Got to be safer than this place, right?” Then he laughed. “Maybe he was in the mob or an assassin or something.”

  She just smiled and nodded. “Or something. Do you want to get some sleep? I’ll watch the fire for a bit.”

  “I’m OK for now; you go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when I need to,” he assured her.

  Nikki closed her eyes and drifted back off to sleep. Her dreams now had her fighting a zombie horde from the stone walls of a castle. This was a good dream. A beam of sunlight from a crack in the boarded-up window woke her, and for a moment she panicked. Shane was not in the room, but then she heard him in the kitchen.

  “Didn’t you get any sleep?” she asked, stretching her sore back. It was better than the trees she had been sleeping in, but the couch was still quite lumpy.

  “ No, but now that you’re up, we’ll grab a bite, and I’ll sack out for a few. I’ve taken to sleeping during the day.” He walked over and handed her some stale bread with jam on it. “Not much else here. Doesn’t look like we’ll stay too long.”

  She nodded her thanks. “Maybe that is why the last person left?” she mused. He shrugged and finished his bread and sat down on the chair next to her.

  “Wait, hey, take the couch,” she said, jumping up.

  Shaking his head, he waved her down. “No thanks, I prefer to be in a more upright position.” He slumped into the chair, dropped his feet onto a low footstool, put his head back, and closed his eyes. It was only a few moments before his breathing took on the steady pace of sleep. She noticed that he kept the rifle barrel in his hand as he slept.

  How long have you been out here? she thought while studying his face. There were dark circles under his eyes and scratches on his face. The ghost of a bruise was still on his cheek. His hands also bore the signs of being outdoors for a while. She noticed he had washed them, but that only caused the cuts and scratches to show more vividly. Had he been alone from the start? If not, what happened to the others? Did he leave them to die, and she was just the bait if he got into trouble later? She was on her feet now, moving a little closer as if looking at his sleeping face would betray his intent. OK, Nikki, knock it off. He may just be a good guy. She returned to the couch.

  She didn ’t want to be alone, but sitting in the living room was really boring. She got up and wandered around the room, being as quiet as possible. The room was dimly lit, with only cracks of light making it through the barricades. There were no books or magazines, nothing to distract her brain. So she kept going into the dark place in her mind that always found the worst possibilities. Shaking the thought that she was being kept alive as a food source, she made her way to one of the boarded-up windows and looked through an opening.

  It was a brilliantly sunny morning. She could feel the cold through the glass as a draft blew across her face. One of the windows had to be broken, she thought. As she stepped back to find the opening, her foot slipped on what she thought were several small stones until the tinkle of metal told her different. As she bent down to get a better look, her eyes readjusted to the gloom. It wasn’t stones but shell casings. That feeling of dread crept back into her chest. Now that she was looking for it, she could see that all around the wall, there were lots of brass casings. Someone had been shooting—and shooting a lot.

  “ OK, so where did they go?” she whispered. She was not sure if waking Shane would be a good idea; his hand twitched on the rifle. Nikki made her way to the stairs and looked back into the room. Shane’s head rolled to the side as he gave a loud snort and shuffled on the chair. He was still sleeping. She surveyed the scene for a moment. The windows were boarded tight, the door securely barred. Why was the place empty? She nervously fingered the knife on her hip and reached inside her jacket to feel the hilt of the gun.

  “ OK, Nik, you’re still armed, and Shane seems to know what he is doing. Let’s have a look upstairs. You know there is nothing up there,” she whispered to herself while staring up the stairs. A full minute passed with her foot still on the bottom step.

  “ Come on, girl, get it together,” she huffed. Shane grunted from the chair. She pulled the gun from her jacket and mounted the stairs. Slowly and carefully she advanced, pausing to cringe on a creaky stair. Nothing happened; Shane didn’t even grunt. Blowing out the breath she’d been holding, she continued on.

  Halfway up the stairs, she began to notice scratches on the stairs and walls. They looked like someone’s fingernails had clawed at the wood. Near the top she noticed blood in the scratches. At the top of the stairs was a stain she hadn’t noticed the night before. It was dried blood. It was a large pool, but it seemed thin, as if it had been cleaned. Something else odd about it was that there was a rightangle cutting into the pool.

  There must have been a rug, but where did it go? Nikki thought as the pit of her stomach tightened. The upstairs was one room. There was a bed along the one wall and a dresser by the window. Other than this, there was nothing except…“The closet,” she whispered.

  Silently she crept up to the door. A shaking hand reached out to the doorknob. It squeaked as she slowly turned it. The latch slipped free, and she flung the door open, gun poised and ready.

  “ Oh…God!” she gasped. “Who the hell owns this much flannel?” Relief crashed over her; the gun hung slack in her hand at her side. The bottom of the closet was empty except for a pair of muddy boots. She grabbed one of the less-offensive-looking flannels and pulled it over her jacket and headed to the window. More confused than ever, she whispered, “Under the bed…” Head turning slowly, she began to crouch down. “Ugh…” Her face crinkled in disgust as she only saw crumpled tissues. Rolling her shoulders to relieve the tension of the last few minutes, she wandered closer to the window.

  “ Someone died here, but where did they go? If someone survived, so where did they go?” she pondered. Something caught her eye. Several long, black hairs swayed in the cold breeze. They w
ere caught in the rough wood of the window frame. They were too long and too dark to be Nikki’s. “Were you coming or going through the window?” she asked the hairs.

  When You’re Downtown

  Mary and Chris spent the first day away from the others in the apartment. The woman who let them in was older; she reminded Mary of a teacher. Her name was Gwen. Another woman there was only a few years older; she had short, spiky hair, blond that turned orange and then red as it progressed, giving her the appearance of flame. Her name was Hayley. Chris learned that Hayley and Gwen had worked together somewhere. Gwen had been the manager and Hayley her assistant. They carried over this relationship to how they ran the apartment.

  So along with those two, there were four other people in the apartment: a couple in their thirties, an older man, and another woman who was older but not as old as the man, as far as Mary could tell. The group stayed together, cramped into the one-bedroom studio apartment for three days. Nobody knew whose place it was. From what Mary had gathered, Gwen and Hayley had met the older man on the first floor. Together they were hiding. They picked up the other woman and her daughter the first night. The five of them had explored the second floor, finding several zombies. That was where they had lost the daughter. The third floor was clear, so they found the open apartment and made it their safe place.

  After the fourth day, the young couple left to find relatives. Gwen had tried to talk them out of it. The older man, Mary couldn’t remember his name, had not bothered much to dissuade them. His comment was “The food will last longer.”

  “ I wanna go, too,” Mary whispered to Chris after the couple left. She trusted Gwen and Hayley, but the other two bothered her. The man was always watching her. It made her uncomfortable. Hayley had noticed and had already started hovering around her. This also bothered Mary. The other woman— Sue was her name—was always crying. Mary felt bad for her, but it only went so far. Mary and Chris had lost their parents and friends. “Everyone has lost someone,” Mary grumbled in Chris’s ear. “Get over it and move on. We needed to think about what’s next. How are we going to get out of this mess? We can’t stay in town.” Chris hushed her as the conversation began to heat.