I watch as it comes out of me. The weight of my idiotic charge has twisted the metal, bent it inside of me and as it comes out of me, I can feel it scraping, cutting, and tearing as it goes. The dusty, white frame is coated, slicked over with my own blood and it’s a peculiar, surreal feeling to be looking at so much of my own blood. It’s like I’m completely detached and watching a movie right now of myself struggling to stay alive. It’s almost a comical feeling, how helpless the situation is. I’m not sure if Lexi is shouting at me, but I look down at the cut through my bloody shirt and see that it’s jagged. Not good, not good at all.
I clamp one hand down on my stomach, pressing as hard as I can on the wound, and it hurts immensely. There’s so much blood that my shirt is slippery on my skin. Everything stinks like iron and I know that familiar smell. It’s the scent of blood. I’ve known it since I was a child. I always thought it was a strange smell, especially that it’s coming out of me, especially now. There’s something about the pain that anchors me to reality, like it’s pulling my drifting soul back to my mortal coil and forcing me to remain in the present. I don’t begrudge my body the pain. It’s a lifeline or a rope that I can follow through the blizzard of agony. Pain is just my body’s way of telling me that I’m in trouble. I tell myself that over and over again as I walk, looking at the windowsill.
Still gripping my Sig, I turn toward the doorway and watch as the first zombie fights through the sea of bodies to try and get to me. It’s another woman who is balding, only a dozen or so stringy locks remain as she looks at me with her mouth twisted in a snarl of broken teeth. I squeeze the trigger and feel the recoil of the gun in my hand, but it feels so distant and unreal that it bothers me in a disconnected, unimaginable, terrible way. There’s nothing I can do. I feel like this fading photograph of a world has finally reached me and now everything feels so unreal, so forgotten, even my own sensations are distant. The blood that splatters across the doorway and upon those behind her is enough to make me feel alive for a flash, but it immediately sinks below the surface of my emotions, drowning in the sea of disbelief. I’m dying and I can hardly feel it.
Isn’t my life supposed to flash before my eyes or something? Aren’t I supposed to be seeing faces of my beloved family members that I’ve lost waiting for me? Isn’t there supposed to be a bright light and a warm, welcoming embrace from the Almighty? I got jipped. Someone ripped me off along the way. All I feel is like I’m sinking in quicksand and there’s no one nearby that I can shout to, so what’s the freaking point?
Hands clamp down on the woman, pulling her into the roiling sea of limbs and teeth and snarls, dragging her into the thing that’s closest to hell that I can comprehend. I don’t pity her. I don’t even feel sorry for her. I just turn, feeling the pale, unflattering sunlight upon my face as I approach the window. It hits me that everything has been slowing down, or maybe I’m just hypersensitive to all of it. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m just taking it all in at a higher level, so the world seems slower, forgiving.
Lexi is waiting for me with her hands stretched out, reaching back into the house without a drop of color on her face. She looks at me with her eyes wide, completely washed clean from all the bloodshot veins that plagued her whites earlier. How does that happen? How is that healthy? I reach up, taking Lexi’s hand and with each footstep, it feels like tremors of pain are ripping through my body like a giant swinging his hammer against the earth. My bloody fingers slip on her skin as I grab onto her wrist, letting her do most of the heavy lifting. Lord knows, I’ve done my fair share of the lifting lately. Now it’s her turn.
Getting my foot up on the windowsill, I feel the muscles in my abdomen moving, constricting, shifting, tightening, doing what muscles do and it sends torrents of pain ripping through my body. I want to drop to my knees, but as the sole of my shoe grinds against the glass, I feel the strength deep down inside of me, willing me onwards. I have to get out of this house. They need me. The pain in my stomach is unbearable. I know that I’m crying but I can’t help it. I can’t get rid of the feeling that everything is falling to pieces around me. Everything has become such a colossal mess and I’m going to die here. I’m going to die in this wretched place, so close to Jason’s place. Death has always been inevitable, but I always thought that it would be in the distant future. Even lately, as we’d experienced so much of the death around us, I never thought that I would actually die. I never thought that I was going to die in one of these places. I’d always find some way out. There is always an escape. But I know the truth now. I know that death has been waiting all along. I know that death was never something that I was avoiding or escaping. I was dancing in the jaws of a dragon and the beast had finally decided how best to kill me.
Hauling me out of the window, Lexi helps me as I stumble on the parched earth beneath my feet. I nearly crumble with the weight of my own body. My legs are shaky, probably from the shock. Everything is going to hell right now and I’m having a hard time keeping track of what isn’t worthless at the moment. I look up at the dried, gray fence and see that we’re not in the back yard. We’re on the side of the house. I look at the neighbor’s baby-blue house and feel slightly relieved, but not much. All I can think of is that there is still a horde of flesh-eating maniacs behind us and I can barely move without sending lightning bolts of agony ripping through me.
Turning toward the direction of the street, I realize in my absence of mind that the door was open. The zombies have beaten us to the punch. I watch as they stumble across the front lawn, looking for the source of the baby’s wail. They’re almost on top of Greg and they’re already ahead of us. Lexi ducks down behind an air conditioner and stares from the shadow cast across the small walkway alongside the house as the zombies start picking up their pace, charging the Dodge.
Three clear, close shots ring out and I know that Greg is on the defensive now. The Dodge roars to life and I can hear Charlie wailing weakly. His poor little voice is drowned out by the enormous, rumbling engine. Another shot rings out and I can see the shadow of a zombie collapsing out on the lawn. When it drops, I clamp down my hand on my stomach and feel the pain. God, it hurts so much. Taking a step toward the street, I know that we have to get out of here now. Time is a commodity in short supply for me and I’m not going to be able to make it if I’m standing out here, bleeding to death. We have to get to Greg and the truck.
Lexi turns and sees that I’m heading toward the street. Jumping to her feet, she intercepts me, putting a hand on my shoulder, but before she can say anything to me, I look her in the eyes and shake my head. It doesn’t matter what she’s going to try to say to me, I’m not going to listen to her. I’m dying. There’s a certain amount of drive in my mind that keeps me from accepting the fact that I’m physically dead. That’s a different state all together. I’m not terminal. There’s still hope, if I can just get to some supplies and see what I’ve done. God, if we could just get to Jason’s place, he might be able to take care of me. I shrug off Lexi’s hand and keep walking toward the street.
That’s when we both see Greg speeding down the street, in reverse. Three zombies from another street have joined pursuit, drawn by the sounds of gunshots and baby screams. As they approach the Dodge, they’re given exactly what they want. The tailgate slams into the first, knocking him back, under the bed of the truck before Greg slams into the other two, grinding them into the concrete as all three of them are churned, wounded, and left to die. I watch as the Dodge disappears down the street, catching just a glimpse of Greg looking over his shoulder as he makes a run for it.
I don’t blame him. I would think that we’re dead too. I look down at my bloody hand clamped to my stomach and smile at that thought. I am dead—no, I’m dying. I’m not quite dead yet, but at least he’s close. He’s got the right idea. I hear Lexi walking behind me as I make my way toward the street, no longer caring if there are zombies still in the front yard. I won’t be much of a fight for them. They could take me easily enough now.
>
Lexi grabs my elbow and pulls me away from the front yard. I don’t know what’s going through her mind, but we have to catch up with Greg. We have to get to him before I bleed out everywhere. I look back down at my wound as she pulls me around. I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe that I’m dying this way. I look at Lexi who is making her way to the wooden fence, blocking our path into the backyard. She’s going to get us killed. She reaches up over the top of the fence and finds the little ring attached to the chain which opens the latch and gives it a gentle pull. I hear the distinct click of the latch and she throws open the gate. I think we’re both expecting the zombies to come shuffling through, arms raised and mouths open, as we stare into the backyard. But there’s nothing there. Nothing is waiting for us on the other side but Lexi’s absurd plan. I shake my head. I can’t believe we’re going the wrong way. I should say something to her, but I’m afraid that I’m going to need every last ounce of energy if I’m going to make it to the truck.
Cutting through the dead, forgotten yard, we discover that all of the zombies have escaped their corral and are now rampaging across the streets and inside of the house. Stumbling, I catch myself, only to see blood dripping from my clamped hand and into the dusty, thirsty earth. I look at the drops forming a tiny puddle and then glimpse the house where the zombies can probably smell the agony that I’m in, the blood falling from between my fingers.
“Come on.” Lexi wraps an arm under my arm and hoists me back up onto my feet. I’m not sure I want to keep moving. My legs feel numb. I think that my body is starting to fail me. I take a few more steps before I know what it is that’s driving Lexi. I hear it faintly. I’m surprised that it’s not the roar of the engine that calls to us, but rather, I can hear Charlie’s cry. His weak, frail little voice piercing through the air is what’s giving my sister her sense of direction and dedication. I follow her, trying to pick up the pace as she climbs over the collapsed fence. I’m not surprised that the fence has started to recede into the ground after the rains. I step onto the wooden planks and I don’t even feel like I’m walking on wood anymore. It feels like I’m walking on rock hard dirt.
Charlie cries again and I know that Greg can only be a block or so away. I have no idea where he’s going or what his plan is, but I hope it involves maybe swinging by one more time to see if his girlfriend and her sister are still alive before he writes us off for good. I step into the back yard and I look around, trying to get my bearings.
Whoever lived here definitely had more money than they needed to live in a place like this. The yard was landscaped fantastically with a fire pit and a patio that looks like it could entertain people for any occasion. I look at the two-way fireplace against the wall, the barbeque that takes up fifteen feet of room, and I think that this patio looks more decked out than my entire house did growing up. Of course, the zombies definitely made their mark on the place. The patio furniture has been tossed, flipped, and broken. The windows into the house are broken and inside, I can see the confused, searching figures hunting for some way out.
I wonder what happened to them. They had money here. Maybe they got away from all of it. I feel a stinging shaft of pain ripping through me and wince, trying to fight back the urge just to scream. I don’t even have the luxury of screaming. God, I hate this. I look around at the wrought iron fencing that surrounds the other two sides of the back yard and the conjoining fence that the rich people had with their neighbors. Lexi has already seen it and is jerking me in that direction, pulling me more than she’s guiding me. She has more reason to survive this than I do. Hell, she’s actually going to survive this. I shake off the envy and bitterness that I feel sneaking into my mind and focus on walking. All I can do is think about how easy it should be to make my way across the yard, but my body screams at me, laughs at me, and throws my wound back in my face. My body feels like it’s mocking me, like it’s glad to finally be dying and moving beyond this world.
With each agonizing step, I follow Lexi to the fence and pass through it, silently making sure that it closes behind us. The metal fence only comes up to my shoulder, but it was enough to keep the zombies trapped in before. Hopefully it’ll do the same again. I follow her across the new yard, looking at the tattered umbrella lying next to a broken above ground pool that burst long ago and scattered yard furniture. There are no zombies waiting for us and I’m relieved for the lack of worry. It’s like we’re drowning in trouble right now, and the flood of horrors finally went down an inch.
Lexi’s hand slips free as we hear Charlie wail again, he sounds farther away this time. I watch as she runs after him, completely abandoning me in the process. I don’t blame her. I watch her run toward a hole in the fence where some of the boards have rotted enough or the nails have given way. She rips a plank free and moves into the next yard. I look at the empty doghouse and the chain staked next to it. I can see the bones of an animal just barely peeking from below the earth. It sends a shiver down my frigid spine.
Getting through the hole in the fence, I push free of the yard and stumble after Lexi. I feel a new spurt of blood running through my fingers. Something must have happened. It all must have started to dry or something. Hopefully it was clotting. Whatever was happening, it doesn’t matter now. The wound is open again and I feel the blood running over the sticky, hard scabs of blood covering my abdomen. I watch as Lexi tries to find a way over the fence, but gives up. I stumble around the pool after her, looking down at the ground that will soon be a tomb for my remains. Lexi pushes away from the fence and heads for the front of the house, rounding the corner and vanishing into the shade. I look up at the sun. We’re in the middle of midday, but it feels like we’ve been out here for an eternity. I’m just exhausted. I don’t have the strength for this anymore.
Getting around the corner, gasping and wheezing for breath, I see that thankfully, Lexi has left the gate open for me. I feel tired and everything is hurting in my abdomen as if someone has wrapped a spiked belt around me and twisted it tighter and tighter. I look out on the yard and see the truck but I can hardly hear it over the pounding of my own heartbeat in my ears. There are thoughts whirling around my mind and distracting me from the world, like I’m walking in a fog of my own mind right now.
The truck is in the street, waiting for us. I look at the dirty, disgusting vehicle and smile at the sight of it. It’s such a miraculous thing to see it there, coated in scabs, dust, and filth. Stumbling forward again, I keep walking until I’m halfway across the yard. I look up and down the street for signs of zombies, certain that they’re coming for us. As I look, seeing no signs of them, I suddenly realize that I’ve been the biggest fool in the world. All that work, all that effort, and now my own death is at hand and it’s all been for naught.
“I forgot the phonebook,” I mutter to Lexi who is standing at the door, holding Charlie and comforting him. “Goddamn it,” I say over and over again, my head pounding with the mocking truth repeating itself over and over again. I left the phonebook behind and I’ve lost my life for nothing. I’ve speared myself through the stomach on a vanity project that is now nothing. It’s useless. It’s hopeless. Everything is all wrong.
I feel like I’m going to pass out. Lexi puts Charlie into the seat, not reacting to a word that I’ve said. In fact, she doesn’t seem to give a care in the world to the fact that I’m dying for nothing right now. I watch as she quickly puts Charlie away in the back seat of the truck and turns around, holding in her hands the phonebook.
“I grabbed it before I climbed out the window,” Lexi tells me before she gently places it back inside of the truck. She motions for me to come closer so she can help me into the back of the truck and I grudgingly comply. I don’t know how I’m going to get into that Dodge without help. I reach up to grab the grip and my bloody fingers slip. “Come on,” Lexi says, pushing me in and climbing in after me.
I look in the seat against the door at Charlie who is fast asleep once more, happy to have his mother back.
Sitting down feels nice. It’s a welcome change from running through yards, trying to escape the freaks out there. I can feel my worries and my troubles slipping out of me, sinking into the cushion of the seat and dripping down from there. I don’t care anymore. I keep pressure on my wound, but I feel like I’m doing it for someone else’s sake.
“Why the fuck didn’t you listen to me?” Lexi snaps at me as she slams the door of the truck and gives Greg the signal to get out of here. I feel the truck move, but my eyes are fixed on the ceiling, looking at the tarnished cloth. Everything is a mess, even the truck. “Move your hand.” She grabs my wrist and pushes it away. “Let me see.”
She looks at it and I already know what she’s going to say, what anyone would say. The wound is bad, real bad. It’s the kind of wound that puts people in the ground. I know it, she knows it, so let’s all stop playing the game.
“It’s just a scratch,” she says weakly, trying to comfort me with a lie that we both know isn’t going to work. She looks at the wound and shakes her head. “Fuck, this is all my fault.”
“How do you figure?” I ask her, trying to regain my strength. I have to endure this. I have to keep fighting and keep awake. If I fall asleep, there will be no hope of them reviving me. I’m the only one who has a chance at fixing this. I’m the only one that can save my life.
“It doesn’t matter,” Lexi says to me, trying to put on a brave face where she has none. “Like I said, it’s just a flesh wound. Nothing vital’s been hit.”
It’s a lie, but I’m okay with her believing what she needs to for now, even if it’s that she’s deceived me. I try to think about how long I’m going to have. With the supplies on hand and the kind of injury, it’ll be easy to clean the surface of the wound, but the infection is going to kill me. I look at Greg in the driver’s seat as he heads north. Strange that I thought it was going to be him who died from an infection. If I go, he’ll certainly come following after me shortly. I turn and look back at Lexi, who is trying to clean my wound.
LEFT ALIVE (Zombie series Box Set): Books 1-6 of the Post-apocalyptic zombie action and adventure series Page 88