And a body hung by its neck from the tree.
All four of them gasped. “Oh god,” said Shelley, putting her hands to her mouth.
The body rocked back and forth, swinging as wind shook the dry leaves of the tree.
“Is that Tom?” said Shelley.
“Who else would it be?” said Lee.
“Shut the fuck up Lee or I swear to god.” Caleb turned and headed for the door. The others followed behind him. Ella stayed at the back, afraid of what might happen when he opened the door.
Caleb reached the door and put his hand on the handle. He paused.
“Open it, pussy!” said Lee. Ella looked at him in surprise. Lee had never talked like that in his life.
Caleb glared at Lee silently, then turned the handle. The door swung open.
They all stepped outside, slowly. The cold fall air bit at them and a light rain was falling. It was silent except for rustling leaves and the slow, methodical creak of the branch the body hung from.
It was Tom. A rope had been tied around his neck and then to the tree. His face was purple and bloated and saliva ran from the corners of his mouth. Blood ran from his nose. He hung limp and still. His shirt had been torn open, revealing his bare chest. Words were carved into his chest, crude and bleeding.
For Dad.
“Those sons of bitches,” said Lee. The door to the Communications Office opened. Other Keepers filed out, muttering among themselves and gasping when they saw Tom's body.
Tom's eyes opened and his body jerked. He blinked and moaned down at them. His hands clutched at them. He hissed and gurgled.
“Dammit Tom,” said Caleb, quietly. “I don't suppose that's you coming to.”
Tom groaned and kicked his legs, struggling to get to them.
Lee cocked the rifle, aimed and fired. The dart lodged in Tom's forehead. Tom jerked, then was still.
Caleb looked back at Lee.
“You see?” said Lee. “You see what I mean? These people are animals. We have to stop them. We have to maintain control.”
Caleb was silent for a second. “To the Bites, then.”
* * *
Angie stepped up to the glass door and looked down into the parking lot. The collapse of the deck had, oddly, saved them. The noise they'd made in Bobby's apartment would have attracted every corpse in the building if the deck hadn't made a much louder noise outside. A good twenty to thirty corpses stumbled around the parking lot, rain running down their torn, rotting faces.
Now if only we could get to the car, Angie thought, sighing and biting her lip. The corpses from the building were all outside, which was good. But they blocked the way to the car, which wasn't.
Park stepped up beside her. “They'll probably thin out after a while.”
Angie nodded. “Yeah.” A few stragglers had already wandered off, distracted by noises outside the apartment building.
She turned away from the door and looked around the living room. Maylee and Dalton sat on the couch. Maylee rubbed her eyes. Dalton's head slowly slumped forward, then jerked up. He blinked and looked around, yawning. They both still wore the clothes they'd worn to sit at home and eat pizza with the babysitter. They were lucky they were wearing shoes when the corpses attacked. It all happened so fast. There had been no time to prepare, no time for anything.
Angie looked down at herself. Her hospital smock was torn, wet and dirty. Her whole body ached, trembling with exhaustion.
She had to sleep. The kids had to sleep. More than just catnaps in the car.
She looked at Park, who must have guessed what she was thinking. He nodded to her.
Angie turned back to the kids. “Okay, guys. We're spending the night here.”
“Oh thank god,” said Maylee, slumping back deeper into the couch.
“I know how you feel,” said Angie. “Let's also see if we can scavenge some clothes from Uncle Bobby.”
Dalton frowned. “Isn't that stealing?”
Angie blinked. “Well, yeah, I mean, no. Not really. Bobby's family. And I'm sure he would have given you clothes if, well, you know.”
Dalton nodded, then looked down at the floor. He scratched the top of his head and yawned.
“Alright then,” said Angie. “Let's go.”
She led Dalton and Maylee to the bedroom. Park followed, leaning against the door frame and watching.
After a quick search of dressers and the closet, they found suitable clothes. Angie found jeans, new socks and a T-shirt of her brother's that would reasonably fit. Maylee found jeans, a jacket and an Ashton Tigers T-shirt among Bobby's girlfriend's clothes.
Then they discovered Bobby's girlfriend had a son. Several years younger than Dalton, judging by the size and content of his clothes, but his clothes just barely fit. Dalton wasn't happy, especially when Angie handed him the biggest child shirt she could find. It had a smiling panda bear on it and big letters reading Mommy's Big Boy.
“Mom!” said Dalton, looking at the shirt and frowning at Angie. “This is a baby's shirt!”
“What, you saying you aren't my big boy?” said Angie, smiling at Dalton. “Besides, if it fits, wear it. Turn it inside out if you want.”
Dalton looked at her, then sullenly back at the shirt. Park smirked, then pushed off the door frame. He walked back into the hallway.
“Okay, guys,” said Angie. “You guys change in here and I'll go to the bathroom.”
“Okay,” said Maylee, nodding. Dalton nodded, still glaring at his new shirt.
Angie stepped into the hallway, shutting the bedroom door behind her.
Angie carried her new clothes to the bathroom and set them down on the counter. She saw Park back in the living room, staring at the parking lot. She walked over to stand next to him.
Down in the lot, the corpses had thinned out further. By morning most of them would be gone.
“You guys won't be able to stay here for long,” Park said, not taking his eyes off the corpses.
Angie nodded. “Yeah. I figured we'd head back to Lakewood. If we're going to just take some house and live like squatters, we might as well do it in our hometown.”
Park looked over at her.
Angie looked back. “I mean after we give you a ride to your ex's.”
Park nodded and looked back to the lot.
Angie looked at him a moment longer, then turned back to look outside. A corpse in the parking lot dragged its broken leg behind as it wandered in a perpetual circle. Its ruined foot scraped the asphalt with each step. “How old are your girls again?” she said.
“Fifteen,” said Park.
“Twins?”
“Yeah.”
Angie nodded. They were both quiet for a moment. A corpse in the parking lot had a long split down the center of its chest. Ribs could be seen, stained red and black, but slowly washing clean in the rain. “How long since you've seen them?” said Angie.
He snorted. “Fuck if I know. Years.”
“You know where they live?”
“Yep. I get letters. Court papers. We got joint custody. She's required to let me know when she moves.”
Angie frowned at him. “You have joint custody but you never used it?”
“No,” said Park, rubbing his stubble. “Never did.”
“Prick,” said Angie, quietly. She looked back to the parking lot. “A dad shouldn't leave his kids.”
“They left me.” Down in the parking lot, a corpse with no eyes reached around aimlessly. Its fingers landed on other corpses, clutching at them.
“At first, maybe,” said Angie. “You left them after.” She walked away, leaving him at the glass door. She moved into the bathroom and shut the door.
She went to the sink and turned on the water. She leaned forward on the counter, watching the water run into the basin. She cupped her hands in the water and washed her face. Straightening, she looked at her dripping face in the mirror. She looked tired.
Then the weight of the last twenty-four hours hit.
Twenty
-four hours ago she was getting ready for work, and Maylee was complaining about Angie's insistence on using a babysitter. Maylee was old enough to babysit kids herself. Maylee was right, but Angie didn't care. Maylee and Dalton were children, and children needed protection. And Brooke, the babysitter, had died protecting them.
Brooke, dead.
Freeda, Angie's best friend from the hospital, dead.
All the patients and staff, dead.
Her brother, dead.
Dead.
She wiped her face with her hands and looked over at the shower. She sighed. She was exhausted and there was no time for luxuries. But she had to. Who knew when she'd get the chance again?
She stripped as quickly as she could, tossing her hospital uniform to the floor. She noticed, for the first time, all the dirt, scrapes and flecks of blood all over her arms and torso.
She turned on the shower as hot as she could stand. She climbed inside and washed herself. She moved as quickly as she could, but slowed down with each passing second.
For a moment she cried.
Then almost fell asleep standing up.
* * *
It is the day before. Lori sits in the car with Mom, driving home to get Gregory. “What's wrong with Dad's car?” Lori asks, looking over at Mom.
Mom thinks as she turns the steering wheel, then shrugs. “I don't think he said.”
Mom looks like something is wrong. She stares blankly at the road as she steers the car.
“Are you okay, Mom?” says Lori.
“No,” says Mom.
Later, Lori watches her mother’s driving as they turn up their street. She observes carefully, so she will be a good driver when it’s her turn.
Mom sees her looking and smiles. “What?”
Lori looks away, embarrassed. “Nothing.”
“Here we are,” says Mom, drawing near to their driveway.
Lori looks at their house as they approach. Their large front window is decorated for fall. Big plastic decals, shaped and colored like fall leaves, are carefully arranged on the glass. It looks very festive. The garage is open. Gregory's SUV is inside.
Mom pulls into the driveway and pushes the shifter to park. “Wait here,” she says, leaving the engine running. “I'll go get your father.”
Lori watches as Mom exits the car and shuts the door. Mom walks up the sidewalk and onto the porch. She unlocks the door and, leaving it open, walks inside.
She takes longer than Lori expects. Lori hears a creaking noise from outside, loud enough to be heard over the engine. She looks over and sees the large tree in their front yard. Its thick branches are swaying back and forth in the wind. Dry, colored leaves fall to their yard. Rain spatters on the windshield.
Something about the creaking branch bothers Lori, so she turns on the radio. She finds nothing that interests her, so she turns it off. She shifts in her seat nervously. What is taking Mom so long?
A loud “pop” comes from the house.
Lori is so startled she jerks back in her seat. Later she'll realize she heard a gunshot. Now, she's mystified. The sound is nothing like the massive explosions guns make in movies. It’s a sharp, cracking sound. Like something breaking.
A few seconds later, Gregory exits the house. He doesn't stop to close the door. He looks pale and shaken. He looks as though he's headed for the garage, then he stops, seeing Lori in the car.
For a moment Lori sees panic on his face.
Then it's gone. He smiles, looking like it hurts him to do it, then walks toward the car. Lori recognizes the smile. It's the smile he uses when he's explaining something very serious.
He opens the car door and climbs inside. “Hello, Lori.” He shuts the door. “I'm sorry but we have to hurry.” He pulls the shifter into reverse, without even pausing to put on his seat belt. Gregory always uses his seat belt.
“Where's Mom?” says Lori.
“She's staying behind,” says Gregory as he eases the car back out of the driveway. “I'll explain in a second.”
Lori knows that can't be right. Mom had just started her shift at work. Sure, Gregory ran the zoo so Mom could skip work if she wanted, but Mom isn't the type to abuse her position.
“Where's Mom?” repeats Lori, a little more insistent this time.
“Please Lori, give me a second. I'll explain.” Gregory backs out of the driveway and turns. He backs along the road, straightening the car. He slows alongside the open door to the house. Lori sees inside.
She sees Mom's foot, lying on the floor. The rest of Mom is hidden from view.
“Mom!” she yells.
Not thinking, not planning, not acting like herself, she opens the door. The car is still rolling as she jumps out. She hits the ground and stumbles, not thinking of how crazy she's being. Not thinking of how she's acting more like her twin sister than herself. Just thinking of the sight of her mother, lying on the living room floor.
“Lori stop!” yells Gregory, slamming on the brakes. The tires make a squeaking sound as they skid on the wet road.
Gregory's calls come from behind her. She recovers from her stumble, clutching the wet grass and using it to pull herself back to standing. She bolts for the house.
She hears the car door open behind her. “Lori!” yells Gregory, farther away as she draws near the porch.
She hits the concrete of the porch, her wet shoes nearly skidding. Not stopping, she runs inside.
“Lori!” yells Gregory from outside.
“Mom!” yells Lori, stumbling into the living room and turning.
Seconds later, she runs back out, screaming and crying. She collapses, screaming until she's hoarse.
* * *
Lori jerked awake. She'd fallen asleep sitting up. Her neck ached. She couldn't move her arms or legs. Her mouth was covered with something. For a moment she panicked.
Then she remembered. She was tied to a chair somewhere in the zoo. Tied there by her dad. By Gregory.
He stepped into view. Lori grunted muffled obscenities at him, biting at the gag over her mouth. Then she slumped in her chair. God, she was so tired. How long had this been going on?
“I'm sure you are tired,” said Gregory, apparently noticing her slump. “You've been screaming and thrashing all night and most of the day.”
She glared at him. Her eyes blurred. She blinked to clear them. They blurred again.
“Poor girl,” said Gregory. “You're exhausted.”
She pulled herself straight in the chair. She would not show weakness. Not to him.
“I bet you're starving, too.”
Oh god, she was. The realization sent a cramping wave through her stomach and throat.
“Aren't you?” Gregory said.
She stared at him, then nodded. She hated herself for doing it, but she nodded.
He nodded back, then knelt down before her. He rubbed his neatly-trimmed beard. “I can take off the gag. Maybe even untie your arms. But you have to understand why I did what I did. You have to understand I had to.”
She panted into the gag, her stomach quivering from hunger. She stared at him, saying nothing.
“Do you?”
She looked down at the floor. God, she was hungry.
“Lori look at me,” said Gregory. He reached out and lifted up her chin. She recoiled from his touch. He dropped his hand. She lifted up her head and looked at him.
“Do you understand, Lori?”
She stared at him.
Then shook her head no.
He hung his head. He sighed, then looked back up at her. “Fine. Do you at least promise not to scream? Or try to hit me?”
Her stomach clenched. Her hands, tied behind her back, trembled from exhaustion.
She nodded.
“Okay then.”
Gregory stood and walked behind her. She felt his fingers working at the cords around her wrists. She flinched at his touch, but did her best to hold still. A few more seconds and her hands were free. She briefly entertained the thought of punchin
g him, but repressed it.
She brought her hands around to her front, rubbing her raw and aching wrists. Gregory's hands changed to the gag. She felt him tugging at the knot, wincing as it tangled with her hair. The gag loosened and slipped off.
She panted and spit. Her mouth was dry and her stomach ached.
“Ready for some food?” said Gregory, walking back around to stand in front of her.
“Okay,” she said, her voice low and hoarse.
She looked down at the cords around her feet. Gregory followed her gaze down, then met her eyes when she looked back up at him.
“Not yet, Lori,” Gregory said. “Not until you understand.”
She looked down at the floor. “Food.”
“Okay,” said Gregory. “I'll be right back.”
He stepped over to a closed door. He fished a keycard from his pocket and held it up to a reader set in the wall next to the door. A red light on the reader changed to green, and the door clicked. He opened the door and walked out, shutting the door behind him.
She waited for a moment, making sure he was gone.
She shifted in the chair, hiking up one hip. She dug around in her jeans pocket until she found her cell phone.
She pulled the phone out and flipped it open. Her first thought was to call the police, but she was afraid Gregory would hear. How close was he to the door? Her next though was to text Ella, let her know where she was. She frowned, trying to remember clearly. Had Ella forgotten her phone yesterday, or was that some other time? She couldn't remember.
She glanced at the door. The lock still showed red. How long did she have? And did Ella have her cell phone or not?
Her head hurt from hunger and exhaustion. She couldn't remember. She opened the text function on her phone and started typing.
Six
Park inched Angie's car down the road, reading the house numbers as they went by. Angie looked out the passenger window, doing the same.
“There,” said Dalton from the back seat. He pointed over Park's shoulder, out the windshield and farther up the street.
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