by Shana Festa
Me and my dog, cohorts in crime.
Rambo had nothing on me. Knowing I was about to take down the bitch better known as the Rossi nemesis, I felt charged. Oh yeah, this was gonna feel good. I was prepared for the kick this time and aimed for center mass. The gun let loose a short burst and the zombie’s shoulder exploded in a spray of congealed goo and shards of bone. The disgusting thing, once known as Lena, kept coming, and the next shot created a perfectly placed hole in the front of her head. The exit wound was messier, and I could only imagine the size of the fissure as her brains splattered the asphalt. Take that, skanky ho. Fuck with my family, will ya?
"Booyah! Suck it, boys." This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
I just hoped that I wouldn’t turn out to be Private Pyle from Full Metal Jacket. I may have enjoyed that a bit too much. But hey, everyone has had the murder fantasy at least once in their life. I just got to play mine out. It was too bad Vinny wasn’t here to revel in the vindication.
I spent the next hour learning to shoot by experience. All those countless hours mastering Duck Hunt as a kid had come in handy. I placed the rifle against the wall and was about to sit down when I heard someone clear their throat behind me. Turning, I recognized the soldier from the day before.
"Puri, is it?" I asked him.
"Good memory. You’re Jake’s wife, Emma. Right?" The mention of my husband’s name sent a stab of pain through my heart.
"Yes, sir," I mocked, trying to use humor to hide my sudden onset of emotion. "Did you hear from them? Are they alright?"
"No, sorry," he said, while a look of sympathy crossed over his face. "I was actually wondering what you were doing with that weapon."
We both looked at the rifle leaning against the wall. Shit, I thought. He’s probably pissed I touched it.
"I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I just—"
"That weapon needs to be cleaned."
"Oh," I replied, a little surprised that he wasn’t tearing me a new asshole for taking it in the first place. "I can do that. Should I use Windex? Or something more like Armor All?"
He looked at me in horror, like I had just said his mom had a big ass or something.
"Follow me," he ordered.
So I did. Picking up the rifle, I followed him into Target. He’d taken over the customer service desk for what looked like a major gun-cleaning operation. The counter was covered with a white towel and on the towel were various brushes, rags, and bottles of some kind of oil. Next to the brushes was a loose piece of paper with what looked like a checklist neatly printed in black marker. The page had been laminated and, judging by the curling edges, it had been around the block.
I sat down across from him and watched him meticulously realign everything. "So, Puri," I started.
"Call me Seth."
"Okay, Seth. What do I need to do?" Looking back, I would regret that question.
He proceeded to hold up his sixteen item checklist and provided me with a detailed explanation of each step. After he demonstrated how to field strip the rifle, I had to repeat the process back to him three times before he was satisfied. At least he didn’t time me or ask me to do it blindfolded. I noticed he kept winding his watch. In fact, even when he wasn’t winding it, his thumb absentmindedly stroked the face.
"That’s a nice watch." I gestured at the timepiece. The design was simple, but elegant. A shiny steel band encircled his wrist, looking as flawless as the day it was purchased. Its black dial stood out against the band, and the face housed three smaller dials. The glass was clean and free of scratches. By the pristine condition of the item, it was clear it was more than just a watch to Seth.
"Yeah," he sighed, "they don’t make ‘em like this anymore." His eyes fell on the watch, and he got this far away look in his eyes. There was an awkward few seconds of silence before he shook his head a little bit and came back to the present.
"It’s an Omega Speedmaster. My dad got it in the sixties when he was in the Navy, and I inherited it when he passed a few years back." He let the statement hang in the air for a few seconds before motioning for me to continue stripping the rifle.
For three hours we sat there stripping, cleaning, and reassembling the weapon before he was confident I could do it on my own. A few times the conversation steered into the danger zone of loved ones and he would abruptly change the subject. I decided I liked him. His rank was Chief Warrant Officer W-5, which didn’t mean a damn thing to me. The only thing I needed to know was that he was able to fly the helicopter.
* * *
Chapter 15
This is Jeopardy
Nursing a sore shoulder, I sat on the patch of grass next to the card table and began to think about Jake again. The wandering corpses had begun to thin out and I wondered if they were migrating elsewhere or if someone else was killing them. I knew they hadn’t begun dying off from decay because the ones that wandered into our vicinity looked like they had gone through a meat grinder. The air had a constant rancid odor that I suspected would only get worse as the days passed. Through my rifle’s scope, I got an up close and personal view of the maggot riddled corpses. What I first thought to be the heat creating a rippling effect in the air turned out to be millions of maggots infesting the undead. They writhed in open wounds and fell out in clumps as the zombies moved.
They were still slow and shambling, but their movements had taken on a stiff appearance. We had learned about the rate of decay in nursing school. There were two distinct steps in the process: Autolysis and Putrefaction. In Autolysis, the body’s enzymes start to digest themselves. Extreme temperatures affected this stage. In our situation, the heat would be speeding this up.
Putrefaction was the gross part. Bacteria from the intestinal tract is released and starts liquefying the body. It was easy to distinguish newly reanimated from the original bunch if you knew what to look for. Newer zombies were bloated and their skin took on a green complexion. Their eyes bulged and tongues protruded from the buildup of gas.
Corpses more than a few days old, however, showed significantly more decomposition. Their skin became marbled and blistered. Hair began to fall out. As the putrefaction continued, a greenish-black liquid oozed from their mouth and nose and any other orifice. The pressure of the gas would cause eruptions in the skin to create another opening for the liquid to escape. The science geek in me knew that the brain would eventually liquefy. Unfortunately, I didn’t know how long that would take or if it would even solve our zombie problem.
The depths of random stuff I thought about to take my mind off Jake’s absence never ceased to amaze me. I bet I could make a killing on Jeopardy, assuming Alex Trebek wasn’t roaming the streets as a mindless shuffler. There’s got to be some irony in there. I may never be on Jeopardy, but I definitely spent a lot of time in jeopardy.
Adam brought lunch out to me and I picked at it. I had no appetite and my stomach was in knots. Gabby had taken Daphne into the store and was no doubt chasing her around and giving her a good workout. "He’ll be okay, Emma. He’s got a good team at his back."
"I know. It’s just that…I’ve been beyond the walls. It was bad out there. I know I don’t need to tell you that."
He got a far off look in his eye, no doubt remembering his own personal experience of the outbreak. "You just need to find something to take your mind off it. A watched pot never boils, and all that shit."
I feel bad for what I did next. I set him up and knew he wouldn’t be able to get out of it. "Are you willing to help me find something to take my mind off of it?"
"Anything, just name it." Poor guy had no idea what was coming. I couldn’t turn back now.
And then I dropped the bomb. "Tell me about Janelle, and what happened during the first days of the outbreak."
The mere mention of her name made him shudder. I knew he had been suppressing his feelings, still in denial about his family. The far off look returned and he began reciting his story. "I met Lany when I was twenty-three. We had
moved in together after a month and were married after three. A year later, Janelle was born. Lany got really depressed after that. I didn’t realize how far apart we grew until she left for grocery shopping and never came back. Janelle was only a year old. Divorce papers were delivered a week later. At least I knew she was still alive.
"My neighbor, Sadie, watched Janelle at night so I could work. By the time my shift ended, I worked nights doing security for the Baker Museum in Naples, this thing was already out of control. It took me three hours to get home. Alive and dead people were all over the streets. Had it not been for the brute force of my truck, I wouldn’t have gotten out of a few nasty run-ins. I tried calling Sadie over and over, but it just went to voice mail. My condo complex was infested with them. It’s the first time I ever used my gun on anything but paper targets."
He took a deep breath, stealing himself to utter what came next. I put my hand over his for support and waited until he was ready to begin.
"When I got to my neighbor’s door it was open, hanging from its hinges like someone had kicked it in. Bloody hand-prints smeared the white door and hallway leading into the living room. The unit was empty except for more blood than I had ever seen. It trailed through the apartment like someone had been dragged, or had been dragging themselves, all the way to the back door that faced the courtyard. The back door stood open too, and I could see my neighbor’s half eaten body as she propelled herself with her arms away from me. I looked down and saw a tiny figure in the pool. I knew right away that it was Janelle. Her favorite teddy bear was floating next to her. She was still wearing her Barney nightgown, and she was floating face down in the water.
"My neighbor was between me and the only set of stairs leading to the pool, and I smashed her head in with the heel of my boot as I passed her. There was no doubt it was Janelle in the pool, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was gone before I even reached her. I still had to check. There wasn’t a scratch on her. As far as I could tell, she must have been running away and fallen in. She was only six. She could hold herself up on the ledge but she couldn’t tread water yet. I should have spent more time teaching her to swim. If I had, maybe she would still be here."
Adam buried his face in his hands and wept silently. I squeezed his hand; it was the only thing I knew to do. "I know it’s not much of a consolation, but maybe it was better that way. Would you have been able to take care of her if she had turned into one of them?" I motioned to the stack of rotting corpses being piled onto a flatbed for disposal on the other side of the barricade.
He shrugged and pulled his knees up to his chest. "I don’t know. All I know is there’s an empty place in my heart without her. She was my world, and I’m lost without her. I’d been trying not to think about her, to put that day out of my mind. But I realize now that I needed to talk about it. You’re a good friend, Emma. I appreciate you listening."
"I’m good like that." My retort earned a genuine smile from him. I felt for his loss. I didn’t lose a child. If almost losing my dog was an inkling of what he felt, I knew he carried a heavy burden.
* * *
Chapter 16
G.I. Jane
The radio squawked from the table next to me. "Base, come in."
I ran to the radio and picked up the handset. Pressing the button before one of the soldiers could pry it from my hand I replied, "This is base camp. Who is this?"
The other end of the radio connected and the sound of gunfire came through, making the radio crackle and hiss. "Forward Operating Base, this is Echo One. Fuel is a no-go. I repeat fuel is a no-go. The area is swarming with Charlie's. Fall back! Go! Go! Go!" The hissing cut off as whomever was talking on the other end let go of the button.
Seth grabbed the handset from me and shouted into it. "Echo One, this is Chief Warrant Officer Puri. Report?"
"We’re getting hit from every angle. They’ve blocked access to the Humvees. We’re retreating but taking on heavy casualties. Jesus Christ, they’re everywhere. They’re Arrgghgggllllgg…" His voice cut off, replaced with a wet gurgling scream and the sound of raspy moans. I hadn’t heard the moans so close since Jake and I had been running for our lives. A hail of gunfire sounded, then all went dead.
"Echo One, do you copy. Echo One, I repeat, come in, Echo One."
Nothing.
"Echo One, do you copy? Over."
Silence.
I grabbed the handset back and screamed into it. "Jake. Are you there?" He had to be okay. I just kept telling myself he was fine. He had gone with the other team. The other option just wasn’t possible.
My knees buckled and Adam caught me before I hit the floor. "Emma, he could be okay. Maybe he’s with the other team and on his way back to you as we speak." Sweeter words were never spoken, because in that moment I needed to believe them…needed them to be true.
One of the other soldiers shouted out by the gate, and we all looked up to find the transport vehicle closing the distance to the barricade. It was all hands on deck as we ran to open the gate and let them in, and I begged God the entire way to let Jake be on that truck.
As soon as there was enough space for me to fit through, I shot out of the lot and toward the truck. Not caring that I had forgotten my carbine by the radio, I ran with determination to find my husband. I leapt up on the foot well and held onto the mirror as I peered into the passenger window and screamed for him.
Three soldiers filled the space, none of them Jake. Almost losing my balance, I jumped down and ran to the back of the transport. Running to catch up with the moving truck, I was back behind the barricade before I got close enough to see inside. Eighteen more soldiers sat on the bench seats, but no Jake. I couldn’t trust what my eyes were showing me, so I jumped into the truck and ran all the way to the back. Sure Jake was hidden by shadow.
I thought my world had already crumbled, but in that moment I realized just how wrong I’d been. Adam led me out of the truck like a child. I curled up on the concrete and wrapped my arms around my knees.
"He lied to me. How could he do that?" My screaming alerted Daphne that something was wrong. Like Lassie, she honed in on me and came to my rescue. I felt her nuzzling her way into the cocoon I had wrapped myself in, and she took up residence under my chin, shaking and giving me slobbery dog kisses.
Fifteen men, Jake included, didn’t make it back to the store. Adam tried to carry me inside, but I fought him. I refused to go inside in hopes Jake would return. I sat outside all night, eyes fixated on the gate. The air filled with the sounds of a heated debate between the remaining men. They were split; some wanted to go out and search while other, more prevailing heads, thought it best to wait until morning. The decision was made to leave at dawn. Ten men would stay behind to man the barricade; twenty-six would go in search of their comrades.
Meg was inconsolable, and I was in no condition to comfort her. She had witnessed her parents ripped apart before her eyes. The loss of her brother, her last bit of family, was too much to handle. Margie led her back into the store, one arm around Meg’s shoulder and the other gently stroking her hair as she whispered things I couldn’t hear into her ear. She really was a remarkable woman. She helped wherever needed and never complained.
When dawn came I stood before Lieutenant Dan, rifle slung over my shoulder. "I’m going." He searched my eyes and said nothing. One, slight nod of approval was the only indication he’d heard me. Adam, on the other hand, was a tougher sell. After a much-heated debate, he accepted my decision. The condition, of course, was that he would be accompanying me.
"I’m not going to let you go off half-cocked and get yourself killed. One day of target practice doesn’t make you G.I. Jane." I rolled my eyes at him and squared off.
"Adam, if you think for one second that I’m the kind of woman who would let my husband get stranded out there without moving heaven and earth to find him, then you don’t know me at all. If Jake’s out there, and I know he is, I’m going to find him and bring him home." I waved my hand in t
he air, motioning toward Target and put a caustic emphasis on the word home.
* * *
I rode up front between Warrant Officer Seth Puri and Lieutenant Dan. Adam was relegated to the back of the truck. Saying the atmosphere was fraught with tension would be an understatement. We were all wired. All hell bent on doing whatever it took to find them. I had the niggling fear that finding them would not mean finding them alive, but I shoved it down deep inside. I needed to stay positive.
Scenarios played out in my head regardless as we drove toward the fuel tanker. Our hopes were that they had barricaded themselves in somewhere and were safely waiting extraction. The other possibilities, far less pleasant, were too hard to speak aloud. They could be dead, or they could be undead. If they were undead, what would I do? Did I have it in me to put Jake down? I thought back to Adam’s fear of having to do the same for his daughter and made the conscious decision to focus on finding him alive.
The world had changed so drastically in the week and a half I’d spent behind the safety of our walls. The streets were desolate, like a ghost town in a spaghetti western. I half expected to see tumbleweeds rolling across the street in front of us. The buildings we passed each told a story of their own. One strip mall looked untouched by the savage events, while the next was a charred husk and barely standing. Its bare-bones frame looked like a blackened skeleton.
Everything was gray and colorless. Even the dried blood, once bright red, had turned a brown muddy color after it dried and baked in the sun. I held my palm up in front of me, cradling the sunlight like it was something to be held. It was the first truly clear and tropical day since the storm. A small glimmer of hope welled inside of me, finding meaning in this gift from Mother Nature. Maybe things would be okay after all.