Shane understood her disappointment. His own mouth felt like a desert. Moving past her, he began to check the cab of the truck. “Nik, hey,” he called her over.
“ Nikki,” she grumbled as she joined him at the cab. Smiling, he handed her a bottle of water and showed her a can of chili. Her smile matched his. She took a long draft of the water and then handed him the bottle. He took it and finished it. “Hey!” she shouted. “We should have rationed that!”
Smiling, he reached into the truck. He turned back to face her with two more bottles of water and another knife. Cracking open the chili with their new knife, he handed her the can. It was the most delicious thing Nikki could ever remember tasting. They sat on the tailgate of the truck, eating the chili and drinking the warm water. A little color had returned to Shane’s face.
After several minutes of sitting in silence, he looked over at her. She nodded. Returning to the cab of the truck, they took the last of the water, each stuffing a bottle of water in their jackets, and continued down the road. About a mile from the truck, they came across another car. This one was sitting in the middle of the road. Shane held out an arm, stopping Nikki. There was something about this that bothered him. Nikki placed a hand on his arm. “Keep an eye out,” she whispered.
Cautiously she approached the vehicle. There was a bloodstain on the side of the car. On the road, her eyes followed a long blood smear leading away from the door into the woods. Opening the door she covered her mouth, feeling the chili jump into her throat. The inside had blood covering the seats and dash. Bloody handprints on the windows told of a struggle. Something caught her attention. She looked into the back seat. She could see the child’s car seat. Jumping away from the car, she yelled. Shane rushed to her side.
“No, no, no, no!” she shouted.
“ Shhhh,” Shane cautioned while looking inside. In the car seat was an infant. Its skin was already starting to peel away from the skull. It reached out to Shane and gurgled, oozing black goo over blackened lips. Nikki turned away when Shane opened the door. The gurgling of the zombie became audible as he did. She wanted to run away, but then it was silent. Nikki sank to her knees in the middle of the deserted road and cried, cried as she had not done since she was a little girl. Getting a hold of her tears, panic now threatened to overtake her as she heard something get thrown in the woods. She wanted to run. She wanted to be home. She wanted to curl up in a ball and never move again. There were some sounds like a car trying to start, but she ignored them. After several minutes she felt hands gently pull her to her feet.
“The car appears to be OK…except…” he spoke calmly, soothingly.
“Wa-wa-what?” she sniffled.
He looked down sheepishly. “I think…I think it is just out of gas.”
The implication of his statement took a moment to sink in. “Oh God, you mean we have to walk all the way back to the truck?” she sobbed.
“Yeah. Come on.” He wrapped an arm around her, and they began the long walk back. “By the way, you have to carry the gas; I’m injured,” he said.
She tried to smile. “You will be injured,” she said.
The walk back was a blur to Nikki. She was trying to block what she had seen from her mind. For his part, Shane kept talking. He told her about an old car he wanted to buy. He told stories of sneaking out at night with his friends. Some of his tales, Nikki was pretty sure, were made up just to entertain her. Finally they reached the truck and gathered a couple of the containers of gas together.
“ We’ll leave most of them here—just take two gallons and then come back for the rest,” Shane said while holding his side. Blood had seeped through the bandage again. Nikki checked the truck and found a first-aid kit they had overlooked the first time.
“Great, the aspirin will take care of this.” Shane grimaced at his side.
She spared him one look before unpacking a bandage. It took a few minutes to change out the bloody wrapping. Shane was pale again. It took him a long time to ease off the tailgate. Nikki grabbed two of the gallon jugs and waited for Shane to get to his feet. He was still leaning heavily on the truck. He smiled at her as if to say he was fine. She wasn’t fooled. The shadows were getting longer, and she was anxious to get back to the other car before dark.
The trip back was slow. The jugs seemed to gain weight with every step, and Shane seemed to get slower. Even in the fading light, she could see he was very pale. He spoke very little. She kept having to shake a thought from her mind—the thought that he might not last much longer. So it was her turn to keep up the steady stream of stories. Nothing as interesting as his, she thought, but he did perk up a little when she mentioned wanting a motorcycle.
The trees began to press in on them as the sky changed from blue to gray. It would soon be black out, with no light except from the stars and moon. The power was out in the cities, so the night had regained its darkness. It was this darkness that urged Nikki forward, burdened as she was. It seemed to take twice as long to get back to the car as it took to get to the truck. The feelings of fear grew with each step. She wanted, needed, to be in that car. It was too open here, too dark. Finally they were back. Tears of relief ran down her face. Stumbling the last few feet, Shane slumped against the side of the car, his breathing labored.
“ Get in; I’ll fill the tank.” Her voice was breaking with stress. Darkness was overtaking them quickly. As it did, the noises from the woods amplified. Shane opened the passenger-side door and called her over. When Nikki reached his side, he looked terrible in the yellow interior light.
He handed her a funnel. “You’ll need this to get the gas in the tank.” Then he pressed the gun into her hand. “You may need this…for me.”
Panic threatened to overtake her. Her hands shook as she pushed the gun back to him. Swallowing her fear, she looked him in the eye. “Well, you can’t die. I…I don’t know where I am going, and…”—she cast around for a reason—“and I only have a learner’s permit, so I have to have a licensed driver with me.”
Coughing, Shane laughed. “Well, in that case, I guess I have to be OK.”
“ Damn right; now, get in the car.” She eased him into the seat. He laughed weakly as she snapped the seat belt on. She hurried to the back of the car and worked the funnel into the tank. She shook badly, spilling gas over the pavement as she tried to fill it. Her head whipped this way and that way with every sound. The second jug empty, she dropped it and hurried to the door. She tried the handle and it was locked. “Why the hell did we lock this?” She gasped.
A twig snapped to her left. A shuffling sound from a shadow ahead. She began to panic again; she rattled the handle; the door gave, and she stumbled back. Shane had barely slumped back into his seat out of her way as she jumped in. Slamming the door, she relocked it. Gasping, she glanced at Shane. His eyes were barely slits.
Trying to get her breathing under control, she turned the key. The engine whirred but did not turn over. She pumped the gas and tried again. “Wrrr-wrrr-wrrr.” Something hit the back of the car. Nikki’s eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror. The corpse’s face pressed against the glass of the back window. “Oh, Christ!” She fumbled for the key again.
“Wrr-wrr-wrr,” said the car.
“Unnnnggghhhhh,” responded the woods.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” she cried while bouncing in her seat, urging the car to start.
“ Wrr-wrr-wrr-wrrrrrroar!” The engine burst into life. Hands hit her window, and she screamed. A zombie began to pound on the hood. She looked out Shane’s window and saw bloody hands pressed against it.
“Get us out of here!” Shane yelled while grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. His eyes were huge. Nikki turned back to the wheel and slammed the accelerator to the floor. Nothing happened.
“Put it in gear, girl!” Shane screamed.
“ Don’t yell at me!” she screamed back. As she threw the car into drive, the engine caught, and the tires squealed. The face in the back and the hands on
the windows were gone. But the zombie in front clung to the hood. Nikki slammed on the brakes. The zombie slid off with a thud. She pulled the headlights on and screamed, throwing herself against the seat. The road was full of zombies with more pouring out of the woods by the second.
“ Go, go, go!” Shane hissed. His color was white, but there was life in his eyes. He was still with her, for the moment. Teeth gritting, she turned the wheel, threw it back in drive, and smashed the accelerator. They slammed into two zombies and thumped over a third. Pulling the wheel over, she aimed for another zombie. She reached the side of the road, slammed on the brakes, and threw it in reverse. The transmission clicked a few times and then caught as she slammed down the accelerator.
“Stop, stop!” Shane yelled as she almost went into a ditch. “I told you to stop yelling at me!” she growled. Turning the wheel and putting the car back in drive, she barreled through the undead mass.
“ Why does—” thump of a zombie against the hood, “everyone—” smack of a ghoul off the sideview mirror, “always—” she swung the wheel to run down another zombie, “yell when I drive?” She turned to glare at Shane.
He had one hand on the dash and the other on the ceiling of the car, bracing himself. “Because your driving is scarier than the dead,” he said, wide-eyed.
“Whatever,” she grumbled and slammed through a small group, sending them flailing like bowling pins. The road was finally clear.
No Longer a Certainty
Alistair sat watching Washington burn. A long line of military vehicles passed by the camera, the same as they had seen in Philadelphia and New York. Rebecca had not said a word in a while. As the helicopter picture showed the capitol building in flames, Alistair noticed the look on her face.
“What in the world is funny?” Alistair demanded of his wife.
“It’s just…” she seemed to struggle. “It’s just there is nothing left for certain.”
“There never was anything. Why do you think we built this place?”
“No, no,” she replied. “You remember the old saying. Nothing is certain except for death and taxes…” She watched as it dawned on him. “That’s right, neither is certain anymore.”
Two More to Go
Gwen and Hayley whispered in the corner of the room. Mary sat alone, pretending to read a worn-out copy of an H. P. Lovecraft collection. Chris sat with the two kids they had found hiding in an apartment on the floor above. They had brought them and all the food they could back down. One of the kids was called Squeaker by Chris, because that was all he did. The little girl was named Lucinda. They thought the two were siblings until Lucinda corrected them. “He is a nice boy, quiet, but I don’t know his name,” she had explained.
Squeaker would point at something and squeak. He would answer questions with a head nod or shake. Gwen theorized why this was. “I would bet his parents told him to keep quiet. When faced with the horrors, he couldn’t.” She sighed. “I bet he thinks he is responsible for their deaths.” Mary thought this was stupid. She spent a lot of time with the boy but never tried to get him to speak like the others. She would just talk to him. It felt good talking about things with someone who didn’t ask questions, interrupt, or try to help. Chris agreed with Hayley that Mary shouldn’t be burdening the kid with her problems.
“ I’m not telling him anything he doesn’t know,” Mary protested one night. “He has seen some shit, I can guarantee that. Instead of just listening to him squeak, I think the more we share with him, the more he will open up.”
“Are you kidding me right now?” Chris demanded. “All that stuff you went through at the rescue center—that is stuff no kid needs to hear. Hell, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Well, I’m so sorry what I went through annoys you.” Mary’s voice began to rise. “At least someone here listens.”
“ What, a kid who doesn’t talk back and can’t tell you to shut up?” Chris’s voice rose to meet hers. “Oh, and because I didn’t see anything? I didn’t see Dad eating Denise from next door! I didn’t see Mom coming out of the kitchen with her guts hanging out! I didn’t watch parts of Denise fall out of Dad’s mouth as she got up and the three of them started to come after me!”
“You said the house burned,” Mary said softly.
“It did. Who do you think set the fire?” Chris was crying now.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“ How could I? I had just picked you up from that bloodbath. What did you want me to say?” Chris swiped at his eyes. “Hey, Mary, I know you’ve been through some shit, but I just burned up our dead zombie parents and the nice lady who used to babysit us.” His back was turned to her. Mary’s hand hovered over his shoulder. She tried to touch him, but he pulled away. Squeaker had appeared in the doorway. He walked past Mary to crouch in front of Chris.
In a voice cracking and barely audible, the boy spoke. “Not your fault.” The words sounded painful to him. He rubbed at his throat. “Not my fault.” He reached out to hug Chris. He looked over Chris’s shoulder at Mary and Hayley. “Dead people’s fault.”
On the Last Leg
The last zombie had banged off the car several minutes before. With the road cleared out in front of them, Nikki let up on the accelerator. Her legs shook, and her hands ached. She flexed the fingers of each hand, trying to get the feeling back. She checked the rearview mirror and could not see any of the undead. Shane relaxed into his seat, breathing heavily and holding his side.
“You doing OK?” she ventured.
He just nodded. The adrenaline was fading, and so was he. He was shivering even as the heater began to work. Distracted as she was with the mirror and her passenger, Nikki was surprised at how quickly they returned to the fuel. Coming up on the truck, she slowed and turned around to head back in the right direction. Stopping as close as she could to the fuel they had collected, she left the car running.
“ You just relax, OK? We’ll be cruising down the road to your uncle’s in no time.” Nikki jumped out, scrambling for the jugs. Cursing, she dropped one of the plastic jugs and returned to the car to get the funnel. “Just hold on, OK? Be done in a second.” Shane gave a weak thumbs-up. Gas splashed again as she poured another two gallons into the tank. She reached for a third, hesitated, and put it in the back of the car. She looked around, grabbed all the jugs she could, and loaded them, five gallons in all, into the back. Feeling it was loaded enough, she began to pour the last gallon into the tank. Over the glug-glug of the emptying plastic, she heard them approaching on the road. The low moaning and the scraping shuffling met her ears even from a distance.
“ Screw this!” she breathed as the headlights began to illuminate the mass of walking undead. There was some gas left, but she wasn’t wasting any more time. The jug flew from her hand, landing with an empty clatter on the road. She was back in the driver’s seat before the jug came to rest.
“I know what you are going to say, so I don’t know why I am asking but,” taking a deep breath, she pressed on, “but are you sure this is the way do we need to go?”
Shane cracked an eye and sighed, pointing in the direction of the oncoming dead.
“Knew it.” She grimaced as she locked the door, buckled her seat belt, and put the car in drive. Picking up speed she rammed into the wall of corpses.
Haven
The sun began its slow ascent into the sky. Alistair switched from the night-vision scope to his regular binoculars. He was always an early riser, but he rarely was up before the sun. Something was coming; he could feel it. Retreating from the open air of the tower to the observation room below, he checked the bank of monitors showing the various fence lines and gates. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.
When Alistair bought this place from the government, there was only one perimeter fence. Now there were four of them. One ran the length of the road, ten feet high, topped with razor wire. A half mile from there was the second fence. This was also ten feet high, but it had wire at the bottom and top. A mile after
that was the third fence. This was fifteen feet high with metal spikes every few feet, sticking out at an angle. It looked as if something used to stop charging cavalry. The final line of defense was four twenty-foot-tall walls, three feet thick with iron spikes and razor wire along the top. A trench ran the length of it. It would cause an attacker to be exposed and have to climb out into gunfire. That was what it was designed for. The building inside the wall had been a missile silo. The grand house above the tenfoot-thick door was formidable enough before one even got into the bunker. It had steel metal shutters, reinforced walls, thick doors, and places to shoot from. It had two towers from which a sniper could take out targets in relative safety. The building could withstand several hits from RPGs.
Checking the cameras, Alistair noted there were now three of the creatures wandering around the front fence near the front gate. From the grainy video, he couldn’t tell for sure but thought one of them could have been the foreman who helped build the house. Shaking the thought, he flipped through about half of the twenty or so cameras. He let the images flash by not really taking them in until movement caught his eye. He flipped back to the image in question, thinking it would be a deer. Alistair’s feet, which had been up on the console, hit the floor. His full attention was now on the monitor. Between the second and third fences, shuffling through the dry leaves and brush was one of the undead.
“ How in the hell did you get in there?” he asked the zombie, tapping on the monitor as he did. It didn’t seem to be doing any harm or seem to have any destination. It just wandered aimlessly through the brush. Carefully he rechecked all the gates leading to the compound. They were all closed. “You didn’t climb over the fence,” he muttered, clicking through several more images.
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