by Max Lockwood
“No, no,” she said quickly, looking at her watch. “I rarely sleep longer than a few hours at a time. Are you tired?”
“Not really,” he lied. “You should go back to sleep.”
“I don’t know if I could,” she said. “Nightmares, you know?”
He nodded. If there was something everyone had in common now, it was the fact that no one could escape the horror of everyday life in their sleep. Matthew’s dreams tended to be abstract and weird but with small elements of truth that always revealed his greatest fears. He didn’t need a dream interpretation to tell him what was going on in his subconscious.
If it weren’t for the fact that sleep was necessary for proper brain function, he would consider pumping himself full of stimulants to keep him awake at all times. But he had been lectured many a time about the dangers of sleep depravation. At a certain point, brain cells die if they don’t have the chance to rest.
“I think you could use some sleep,” she said quietly. “When was the last time you got a little shut-eye?”
Matthew tried to count the hours, but his exhausted brain couldn’t quite make the calculations. It had to have been over twenty-four hours ago.
“I don’t know,” he said wearily. “I guess I am a little tired.”
“Here,” she said, quickly getting up from the couch.
“Oh, no—” he started to protest.
“I insist,” Ellie said firmly with a smile on her face.
“Don’t let me sleep for too long,” he said, climbing onto the couch. “Maybe just an hour or so, and then we can switch.”
“Sure,” she said, picking up a magazine from the table. “I’ll keep an eye out for anything strange.”
“Good,” he said as he sank into the couch.
It took a few minutes for Matthew to feel safe and comfortable enough to fall asleep, but when he counted all the safety measures in place, he was able to close his eyes. The three of them had already killed all the zombies on the first floor and checked to make sure the doors and windows were secure. The room they were in was made of solid materials and was locked. Also, Ellie was awake to stand guard. If anything bad happened, Matthew was certain she would wake him up first. Just in case, he set his bat next to the couch so it could be picked up in an instant.
Before he drifted off, Matthew pleaded with his subconscious to give him just one hour of uninterrupted slumber. He didn’t think it was too much to ask for a short period of time without stress or fear. The last time he’d slept, he had reacted to his dream so violently that Genevieve had tears in her eyes when he came to. Apparently, he was yelling so loudly that she’d thought they were under attack, but when Ellie tried to rouse him from his slumber, he’d nearly hit her in the face. If she hadn’t ducked, he would have certainly broken her nose.
When this happened after Matthew’s discharge, his wife was very understanding and supportive. She was always quick to center him in reality by forcing him to name everything he observed in their bedroom. After he described the temperature, smell, and objects in the bedroom, he was able to calm down enough to drift back to sleep. Eventually, he’d learned how to do that himself.
The dreams were worse when he was upset about something or over-tired. Unfortunately, in the middle of a dangerous outbreak, these were everyday occurrences. Before he could talk himself out of taking a brief rest, his exhaustion overtook him. He drifted off to sleep as rotting feet thumped around on the floor above him, reminding him that he would never feel safe.
5
“Hurry up,” Matthew whined as he pulled on his sport coat and checked his reflection in the framed mirror that hung by the front door. “The reservation is at seven and it takes twenty minutes to get there. If we’re even a minute late, they’re going to give our table away.”
“Two minutes, Matthew,” his wife replied from the bedroom. “Just relax.”
He scoffed. Easy for her to say. She was as cool as a cucumber all the time. Matthew didn’t know how she did it. He was getting better at relaxing since he came home, but not to his wife’s liking.
“Ready,” she said, emerging from the bedroom. “You look nice,” she noted as she grabbed her purse.
“No, I look the same, just in a suit.” He laughed. “You’re the one who looks nice.”
Rebecca looked good in everything, but her date night ensemble really took the cake. The knee-length dress highlighted every curve. Matthew wanted to run his hands along her body, but then they would certainly miss the reservation.
“To hell with the restaurant,” he exclaimed. “Why don’t we just order takeout and make love all night? You’re too tempting.”
She rolled her eyes. “That would just be the same as every other night,” she said. “You promised me that we would do something special for our anniversary. I want a fancy dinner, way too much wine, and a dessert so decadent that you have to roll me from the restaurant to the car.”
“I did promise that,” he said as he grabbed the keys to his car. “So, what do I get in return?”
“In return?” she asked, folding her arms in front of her chest. “You get to enjoy this meal too.”
“You know what I mean.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes again. “Matthew Swift, I know exactly what you mean. Besides, what you want isn’t payment for putting on a coat and taking me to an expensive dinner. That implies that I don’t want it too.”
She smiled and playfully slapped him on the butt as they headed out the door.
On the drive to the restaurant, Matthew and Rebecca held hands as if they were back in high school. Though they had dated since they were teenagers, they’d waited to marry until Matthew’s second deployment. Rebecca thought it was morbid, but Matthew insisted that she get some benefits if the unthinkable happened to him while he was away. But married life had generally been pretty blissful.
Of course, every relationship had its ups and downs. It was challenging to maintain a strong connection when they were thousands of miles apart. Even when he returned, Rebecca struggled to take care of her husband when his mental state was less than ideal. She did a good job, by his standards, but there were tough days where she cried in the shower. However, she put on a brave face lest he feel worse about himself for upsetting her.
Those moments were few and far between, though. For the most part, they were just like any other young couple, struggling to create a budget and find balance in their home and work life. When they fought, it was usually over stupid things like Matthew’s forgetting to change the toilet paper roll and Rebecca’s leaving the lights on when she wasn’t in the room. These arguments could easily be solved by a brief shouting match, followed by cuddling up on the couch together and quietly watching TV.
Though their relationship was often put to the test, they were excited for what the future held for them. Late at night, they would discuss the possibility of adding a little one to their family. While they still felt too young for such a big change, Matthew was excited about the idea of having a child. It was certainly on their list of future plans. The couple had just purchased a home, a big upgrade from their rented apartments. Being out of the military gave them the chance to settle down in one place, something Rebecca was ready for.
“I didn’t have a chance to look up the menu online,” Rebecca said as they were seated at their table. “What should I order?”
Matthew looked over the menu with an expert eye. He had heard about the steakhouse at the culinary school where he took classes part-time. As much as his wife was excited about dressing up and going out on the town, he was just as excited to taste the food and see how it was plated. His dream was to one day work as a head chef at such an esteemed restaurant.
“You should get the scallops, and I’ll get the veal,” he concluded. “We can share.”
“What kind of wine?” she asked, looking over the extensive selection.
“Eh, I’m not really sure,” he admitted. “We’ll have to ask.”
Once the orders were placed an
d the wine was poured, Matthew reached for Rebecca’s hand across the table.
“You know, I’m not sure why we don’t do this more often,” he mused. He looked at his wife’s wedding ring and admired how the small stone looked in the soft candlelight. It wasn’t a spectacular piece of jewelry, but he’d bought it himself.
“I think you’ll remember why when you get the bill.” She laughed. “Does this place remind you of—”
“Our wedding reception?” he finished.
“My dad still brings up how much money they spent on that place.” She smiled. “If you remember, I requested something a little less extravagant, but my mom absolutely insisted that we use that ballroom.”
“I remember it well,” Matthew replied. “I was scared to look your dad in the eye for weeks.”
“Ah, he puts on a tough act. Just like you.”
Rebecca gave Matthew’s hand a squeeze. “It was worth it, though. That was the best night of my life.”
“And mine,” he agreed. “Though I could have skipped it all and gone straight to the honeymoon suite.”
“Shh,” she hushed, her cheeks turning pink. “Someone might hear you!”
Matthew laughed. She was so cute when she was embarrassed. He wanted to lean in a give her a big kiss, but that would only make her more embarrassed. Besides, he wasn’t one for public displays of affection. He’d save that for when they got home, if they weren’t too stuffed to move.
Shortly after their salads were brought out, police lights flashed as the cars sped past the wide window of the restaurant. Matthew set his fork down and watched, hearing the muffled sound of the sirens screaming.
“That reminds me,” Rebecca said. “Someone at work was telling me about this attack that happened in Chicago. I guess this man was out walking his dog late at night and someone ambushed him and mutilated his body.”
“That’s not good,” Matthew replied, crunching on a crouton. “Did you try these?” he asked. “Is that celery salt I’m tasting? It’s pretty good.”
“No,” Rebecca said. “You didn’t hear the worst part of the story.”
“Sorry, go on.”
“This wasn’t your average mugging. The person who attacked this man chewed him to bits. They had to use dental records to identify him. The dude ate his face off.”
“Ew.” Matthew grimaced. “It was drugs, wasn’t it? Even the creepiest killers aren’t that extreme. Besides, your average cannibal probably prefers to slow cook the meat and add the right spices.”
“That’s not funny!” Rebecca admonished playfully. “How freaky is that?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty messed up,” Matthew agreed. “What was in the guy’s system when they booked him?”
She shook her head. “They didn’t catch the guy. The only way they knew it wasn’t done by an animal was because the bite marks were unmistakably human. The guy is still out there.”
“Oh,” Matthew said, feeling bad for making light of the situation. “That’s actually pretty scary. Why didn’t I hear about this on the news?”
“Probably because you spend your free time playing video games and not watching the news.” Rebecca chuckled. “One of these days, I’m going to get rid of that thing.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Matthew gasped.
“Try me.” She grinned. “It’s either me or the video games.”
Matthew rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t handle dealing with me all the time. I know you use that time to read your trashy novels.”
She took a sip of wine. “You’re right. How else would I learn how to talk dirty to you?”
Matthew grinned broadly. “You’re amazing, do you know that?”
“Sure do,” she said, rubbing her foot on his shin.
After Matthew admired and analyzed their main courses, they heard a loud commotion coming from the back of the restaurant, near the kitchen.
“What was that?” Rebecca asked, looking over her shoulder.
“No clue,” Matthew answered. He was embarrassed to feel his heart race at the loud crash. It was almost certainly a kitchen mishap. Collisions happened from time to time when cooks were in a hurry. He felt sorry for the poor sap who had to pick up the stack of broken dishes. They would probably have to endure the screams of a stressed-out head chef.
Suddenly, screams came from the kitchen. Matthew gripped the edge of the chair, ready to fly into action or run away—he hadn’t decided which.
“Should we call for help?” Rebecca asked, taking her cellphone from her purse. “Maybe someone got hurt.”
Waiters ran back to the kitchen to check on their coworkers, only adding to the chaos. The commotion only got louder as objects clattered to the ground and people yelled for help.
“I’m going to call the police,” Rebecca said, dialing the emergency number. As she spoke to the dispatcher, she wandered toward the back of the restaurant, toward the noise.
“Rebecca,” Matthew called. “Don’t go in there!”
“She wants to know what’s going on,” she hissed back at him as she gave the name and address of the restaurant to the dispatcher in a calm tone.
Feeling very uneasy, Matthew reluctantly followed her, just in case she got caught up in whatever was going on. Matthew desperately wanted to stay out of it, though his brave wife was drawn to help. He was reaching for her hand to pull her back from the door when it swung open, the edge hitting her square in the face.
“Hey,” Matthew roared as his wife fell to the ground. His brain was on fire now. No one harmed his wife, accidentally or not, and got away with it.
He raised his fists, ready to strike the next person who walked out the door, but he was shocked to see the face of the figure standing in the doorway. Instead of pushing on the door with both hands, it walked face first into it, standing menacingly above Rebecca.
The man’s face and hands were covered in blood, but he didn’t seem to care. His eyes were glassy and unblinking, instantly sending a chill down Matthew’s spine. His skin was such a strange shade of gray that he thought someone must have been pulling a prank and it had gone wrong. No living being looked like that.
Before he’d had time to process the situation, the man pounced on top of Rebecca, tearing at her throat. She let out a blood-curdling scream.
Matthew went blind with rage. He grabbed the man by the hand and wrenched it behind his back as far as it would go. Instead of sending the man straight to his knees, he somehow got loose, leaving two gnarled fingers in Matthew’s grip. Not fully recognizing what was happening, he grabbed the man attacking his wife by the waist now, throwing him to the ground.
But the attacker had also had a firm grasp on Matthew, so they tumbled to the ground together. Matthew smacked the back of his head against the tile floor, causing him to momentarily black out. When his vision returned, he saw the figure hovering over his wife again as she went silent.
“No!” Matthew cried, scrambling to get to his feet. His head was spinning and his already scarred face was burning. He grabbed the monster by the hand, ready to pull it away from his wife when he heard a loud pop.
The attacker fell to the ground with a thud. Matthew whipped his head around to a horrified police officer pointing a gun at the fallen creature.
An ambulance arrived seconds later, but it was too late for Rebecca. Her injuries were so severe that Matthew had to excuse himself from the police interview to be sick. His mind was in an absolute fog. His beautiful wife had been savagely murdered, right in front of his eyes, and he hadn’t done a single thing to stop it.
Even after he went home alone, he felt terribly ill. He shivered as he lay in the steaming tub, scrubbing at the spots on his face where the monster had scratched him. He worried that there was some sort of dangerous drug or biological agent on the thing’s hands because Matthew’s illness couldn’t be explained by grief. For about a week, he’d had headaches that no painkillers could touch. He spent Rebecca’s funeral completely out of his mind on medication to get hi
m out of bed. He had terrible aches and chills that no amount of sleep or warmth could remedy. He couldn’t keep anything down, and after his display at the funeral, Rebecca’s parents threatened to take him to the hospital if he wasn’t better in a day.
Then, as quickly as the illness came on, it was gone. He woke up after a blur of a week and felt like his old self again. He was deep in mourning, but physically, he was perfectly fine. He spent the day going through Rebecca’s things, but he found himself completely unwilling to get rid of anything.
Holding one of her favorite sweaters in his hand, he inhaled deeply, smelling her perfume on the garment. Then, before he could stop himself, he let out a gut-churning wail into the soft cashmere. He screamed until the air ran out of his lungs. Then, his body shuddered so hard it felt like someone was shaking him.
“Matthew,” Genevieve said, her hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“What?” Matthew mumbled, sitting straight up. He held a moist throw pillow in his hand.
He took a deep breath and observed his space. The rooms still smelled of overpowering air freshener. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat, making his head itchy. Genevieve and Ellie were both staring at him, looking uncomfortable.
“Bad dream?” Genevieve asked, handing him a bottle of water.
He blinked. He had experienced many a nightmare, but there was something so different about this one. Usually, dreams were works of fiction. This one was an exact memory, clearer than he could even imagine in his waking hours. It was so vivid and realistic, he felt as though he’d gone back in time to the worst day of his life and lived it all over again.
“You could say that. Did I–did I say anything?” he said, embarrassed at what he might have done.
“You kinda yelped,” Ellie said. “It startled me.”
“Sorry,” he said, sipping the water carefully in case it didn’t stay down.
“You can go back to sleep if you want,” Ellie offered. “It’s only been a few hours. Genevieve’s just woken up.”
“No,” he said firmly, getting up from the couch. “You can sleep if you want. I couldn’t sleep, even if I wanted to.”