by Billy Wells
“I guess I wanted to try it after all. I'm so hungry, I could eat a horse. What are we going to do? Sounds like that howling is getting closer.”
“Don't worry, darling, we’ll set another trap. We’ll have to watch it more carefully this time. Remember I have a gun, and I know how to use it.”
Maggie looked at him with her dark beautiful eyes, and a ray of sunshine suddenly broke through the trees and illuminated her face with a heavenly glow. The worry seemed to dissipate from Jerry’s face as if he considered this a sign that their luck was about to change for the better.
Not far away they came upon several bushes of wild berries. Neither of them knew what kind these were, but Jerry and Maggie immediately started to cram them into their hungry mouths. After eating their fill, they lay back against a tree trunk, and Maggie started laughing.
“What's so funny?” Jerry asked.
“I don't know. Things have been so bad I just felt like laughing.”
“You know those berries might be poison.”
“I know.” She grinned and burst into more uproarious laughter and added, “But they taste good.”
After about an hour Jerry sat up holding his belly and groaned, “My stomach is feeling a little queasy.”
Not long after, he hobbled into the bushes and vomited up all the berries he’d eaten followed by a bad case of diarrhea.
Later, while he rested next to the large oak, he thought the howling of the wolves seemed even closer than before and the sound of something moving in the woods became clearer.
“Are you any good at climbing trees?” Jerry asked, inspecting the one they were leaning against.
“My daddy said I was a real tomboy when I was growing up. We had a tree house in the backyard I had to climb almost every day.”
“We need to get off the ground so the wolves can’t get to us, and this is a perfect tree. It has several limbs I can reach to climb up on.”
He motioned for her to stand, and, placing his hands together to form a step, he told her to put her foot in his hands, and he would lift her up. Maggie complied willingly as the howling seemed only a stone’s throw away.
Cringing in pain from his injured and infected leg, Jerry lifted Maggie upward so she could grab a limb. Once she reached the first one, she easily climbed farther onto the others higher into the tree. Ignoring his distress, Jerry jumped as high as he could and just barely grabbed hold of the bottom limb. Pulling himself up to that first limb so he could reach the upper ones was the hardest thing he had ever done.
Straining with all the strength he could muster, he finally struggled to where Maggie was perched in the tree above. The agony in his shin felt like hot needles piercing every inch of the throbbing gash. His heart was beating so fast he thought it might explode. Then the thrashing they’d heard was closer yet, and a dark shape emerged from the bushes behind the tree they had just climbed.
Suddenly an armless zombie in tattered rags shambled into view and approached their tree. It sniffed the air like a bloodhound, and it wasn’t long before it looked up and saw them peering down at him. A big gob of drool seeped from his black tongue and oozed onto the ground. The abhorrent, decomposing thing’s jaw was broken, and its chin and the lower row of yellow teeth dangled below the upper row of rotten teeth.
"I thought all the zombies were in the city," Maggie whispered in Jerry’s ear.
"That's what I thought. Maybe some farmer died and became one of these things himself. They say the dead are coming back alive and eating the flesh of humans.”
Maggie gave a low moan and closed her eyes. It was hard to look at the monstrosity with his missing arms, his protruding black tongue that seemed longer than Gene Simmons’s of Kiss, and his jaw of hideous teeth bobbing up and down upon his neck.
Jerry shook his head and grimaced. “Why would someone go to all the trouble to mutilate the thing when they could have smashed in his head with a rock? Everyone knows by now how to kill a zombie. At least they do in the city.”
“It’s so cruel,” Maggie whimpered, trying not to look.
Suddenly two dark shapes bolted from the underbrush and pounced on the armless, slack-jawed, undead thing. Maggie turned toward the commotion below, but one glimpse of the grisly act of ripping away flesh sent her snuggling back into the protection of Jerry's arms.
Jerry sat in disbelief at the horror of the two wolves tearing at the hapless zombie, who could only try to kick them away. It wasn't long before several other wolves fell upon the half-eaten zombie, still thrashing and shrieking madly.
Jerry never imagined feeling sorry for a zombie, but he did for this pitiful creature. He had no idea if being eaten alive was as painful to an undead zombie as to a human, but Jerry couldn’t bear to watch the unbridled horror of it for fear it would drive him insane. The pack of snarling, ravenous wolves gobbled up the thing’s legs, leaving only a head without a jaw and a shredded torso of exposed ribs writhing on the ground. Jerry put his hands over his ears to keep from hearing the relentless chewing and sucking of the rotten flesh, and the noise of the bones breaking, while the undead thing squealed until its vocal chords were torn out.
Finally the wolves seemed to have eaten all they could and scurried off. Except for a pile of gnawed bone fragments, the zombie’s head was all that was left for the maggots. The nose, the ears, and the cheeks were gone, and only the top row of yellow teeth remained, still trying to bite without its lower jaw. One eye kept moving back and forth in its socket.
Jerry would never have believed wolves would go after a bloodless corpse, but he had seen it with his own eyes. He wondered if eating the living dead would turn these animals into zombie wolves. What a sight that would be, he thought.
Nestled in a web of limbs guaranteed to hold them safely in the tree, Jerry finally drifted off to sleep with precious Maggie holding him tight. In the morning, when they awoke, the wolves were long gone, but the skull’s eye was still moving and the upper teeth still biting the air incessantly. Apparently whatever brain the thing had inside its skull was still functioning.
“How long could this go on?” Jerry gasped, shaking his head in disgust.
He knew they had no choice but to leave the safety of the tree. They couldn't stay there any longer since they were both starving. He needed to find them something to eat before it was too late. As soon as he slid down the tree and touched the ground, he picked up a large stone from the ground and battered the zombie’s skull into a pulp until everything stopped moving. Thank God, the poor bastard was finally eternally dead.
Jerry’s ankle had turned black, and he had to lean on Maggie so he could hobble back to the trap where he hoped he would find an animal of some kind.
When they got there, just as before, the door on the trap had fallen, but there was nothing inside. They saw more discarded fur, bones, and bloodstains on the ground. The thief had brushed away most of any tracks with a broken limb of dead leaves they found tossed along the trail.
“If I get my hands on that lowlife, he’ll wish he was never born,” Jerry screamed in disgust, not considering his current weakened condition.
“What are we going to do?” Maggie whimpered and looked at him in deep despair.
“We let him get away again. Shit!” Jerry shrieked, shaking his fist and grimacing in mortal pain. “Next time I have a bullet with his name on it. I promise.”
“Oh, Jerry, your ankle looks so much worse, and it's smelling really bad.”
“Don't worry your pretty head, Maggie.” But behind the weary smile, Jerry assumed gangrene had already set in. There was ugly puss oozing from the wound and that awful odor. He was so weak he could hardly stand. What could he do if he did find the person stealing the food? He probably couldn’t get close enough to fire off a good shot or even lift his gun to shoot it.
“I need to rest for a minute, darling.” Jerry grimaced. “I'm so thirsty. Plus my head feels like it's on fire.”
Placing her hand on his forehead, Maggie raised
her voice in concern. “Oh, Jerry, you’re burning up with fever. Rest here. I'll see if I can find some water.”
He thought of telling her not to go into the woods alone, but he could barely keep his eyes open. He just said, “Take the gun. There could be zombies or wolves lurking nearby.”
“No, darling, you need the gun more than me. I can climb a tree or run away, but you can barely hold up your head.”
Jerry didn’t argue; he just watched her disappear into the woods.
Maggie searched and searched but couldn’t find any more berries or water. She decided to get back to Jerry to see if he was all right. What if the wolves had found him slumped by the tree? Without Jerry, she would never survive in these woods, and she would never find his grandma’s house. She had always lived in the city. She knew nothing about hunting. Her food had always come from the grocery store. She had no idea how to survive in the wilderness.
After doubling back, she finally found the tree they had climbed to escape the wolves. She shuddered at the fragments of the zombie’s skull on the ground. At least it had stopped moving.
She quickened her pace and headed for the rabbit trap where she had left Jerry sprawled on the ground. When Maggie arrived at the spot, Jerry was gone. There was no blood on the ground and no sign the wolves had attacked him.
She cried out, hoping he was still alive and could hear her.
After moving a short distance away to the right, Maggie saw another tree with several limbs fairly close to the ground. She spied the outline of a person about halfway up the tree. She called his name but received no answer. As she grew closer, she was happy to see it was Jerry in the crook of a tree limb. She saw a log with stout branches leaning against the tree—which he’d apparently used as a makeshift ladder to get to a safer resting place. She climbed up the log and, reaching Jerry, found him either unconscious or sleeping. She decided not to wake him.
During the night Jerry came in and out of delirium. The infection in the horrible gash running up his shin had sapped his strength entirely. The ashen pallor of his face made Maggie think he was close to death. She sighed at the hopelessness of their situation. Whatever would happen would happen. She would soon be all alone.
The next morning Maggie was surprised when Jerry began to stir and appeared to be somewhat coherent. When he realized he was in the crook of a tree fifteen feet off the ground, he grabbed a limb to stop from falling. Looking up, he saw Maggie staring at him with the same forlorn, defeated look.
“I'm starving,” he wheezed weakly.
Maggie looked at him with her mouth agape. “I was so worried, Jerry. At one point last night, I wasn't sure you were still breathing. I didn’t know what to do. You were still burning up with fever.”
“I hate to admit, darling, but I'm feeling pretty bad. This fever has really beaten me down, but you still love me, don’t you?”
“Of course, I do.”
“The more I think about it, the harder it is for me to believe you really fell in love with me,” he said, trying to focus. “I've known you since the fifth grade, right?”
“You don't remember, but we were together in Mrs. Dickerson's class in the third grade.”
“I'm sure you're right, snuggle bun. I just don't remember you in the third grade. I had a crush on Barbara Woodring then, a cute little girl I gave a fire engine to, but who moved away.” His lips were so parched, it was hard for him to speak, but he continued. “During all those years, I never thought you noticed me at all.”
“I noticed you, but I was madly in love with Sonny Dellinger back then. I carried the torch for him until he married Sue Klein last year.”
“When you said you cared for me on the porch the other night, I felt like I’d just opened the door to heaven. It was a miracle come true.”
“Oh, Jerry, let's not talk about that now. I’m so hungry. We need food so badly.”
“I know, darling,” he said with his head lolling. He knew he was fading fast and should check the trap. “Okay, let's climb down and see if we caught something last night.”
Maggie couldn’t believe it when Jerry struggled down from the tree by himself. Then, gasping for breath after reaching the ground, he even helped Maggie down from the lowest limb.
As they headed toward the trap, they both kept an eye out for a stray zombie or the pack of wolves.
When they finally reached the clearing, Jerry saw the trap was empty, the same as before. He looked at Maggie with a defeated look she’d never seen before. “The same sneaky son of a bitch has already been here and stolen our food. Did you see or hear anyone prowling around last night?” he asked sharply.
“No, Jerry. I didn’t hear or see a thing. I was so tired I fell right to sleep.”
When Jerry and Maggie reached the stump where the bloody guts lay on the ground, Jerry picked up a morsel of meat from the leaves and handed it to Maggie.
“You need the food more than me,” Maggie said solemnly. “Please take it before you pass out again.”
Jerry didn’t argue and popped the morsel into his mouth.
They stood there, tired and weak. Jerry turned toward the mountain and peered into the desolate wilderness that went on as far as he could see.
“You said your grandma has a big farm around here somewhere,” Maggie said, shielding her face from the sun. “Don't you think it’s more important we make it to her place instead of setting another trap? Maybe we’ll find some berries along the way.”
Jerry looked at her with the same long face she had seen before and stared at the sun high in the sky, as if trying to decide what to do next. “I'm a little confused right now, darling. I'm not thinking straight.” Jerry leaned against a tree to keep his balance.
Perplexed at Jerry’s continued indecision about setting out for Grandma’s house, Maggie said as innocently as she could, “You said, when we were making love under the stars, that your grandma’s house was within walking distance, and you could easily find it.”
“That was before my leg got infected, and I could still walk. I wasn't burning up with fever then either, my darling.”
“Let me help you find it. You said your grandma has a lot of cattle and chickens, acres and acres of corn, and even a well fed by a mountain stream. It sounds like heaven, and I can't wait to see it. Which way is it?”
Jerry slumped to the ground next to the bloody stump beside the empty trap. He hoped his head would clear if he rested awhile.
Maggie looked at him in disbelief. It was as if he had all the time in the world. Didn’t he know the clock was ticking and they were going to die if they didn’t get to Grandma’s house?
After a time, Jerry said, “When did you figure out you were in love with me?”
“Jerry, don't talk about that now. We need to find your grandma's place.”
“Humor me. I'm catching my breath anyway. When did you fall in love with me, my darling?”
Maggie exhaled deeply and finally answered, “I guess it was right after Sonny married the cheerleader. Sometime around last May.”
“Really,” Jerry said, thinking back. “That was right about time the principal said I was too old to go to school anymore. He said I was mentally challenged, and I should go to vocational school to learn how to be a mechanic or a janitor.”
“I don’t remember anything about that, Jerry. Don’t keep talking. We need to go. We’re going to die right here if we don’t get a move on.”
Jerry ignored her comment and continued, “You probably heard all the kids calling me a birdbrain and saw the graffiti someone wrote in Magic Marker all over the wall outside the cafeteria. But in spite of all that, you fell in love with me anyway. For more than two years, you never told me how much you cared. What did I do to win your sweet love, my darling?”
“Jerry, every minute we sit here, we take a chance on the wolves or the zombies finding us. We need water and food now. We can’t make it another day.”
“Don’t worry, darling. We're gonna leave soon. Tel
l me what I did to win your love.”
Maggie didn’t understand why, but she saw how important this was to him, and she had no choice but to humor him. “When the zombies attacked the village, you saved me and several other families from certain death. You were a hero. I couldn't believe the way you took that baseball bat and tore into those ghouls. When I saw the blood splatter all over your T-shirt, and the muscles bulging in your massive arms, I knew you were the one for me.”
“Really,” Jerry said exhaling deeply, “but that wasn't last May when Sonny married the cheerleader, that was only about a week ago. That was the same night I told you how rich my grandma was and about the big farm she had with all the cows and chickens.”
“I don't remember that as much as those muscles bulging and your rock-hard butt when you swung the bat and splattered the zombies’ heads all over the porch.”
“Maggie,” he said sadly, a tear rolling down his cheek, “I don't think you're being completely honest with me. I told you that I worship the ground you walk on, and I never thought someone as pretty as you could ever care for me.” More tears rolled down Jerry's face. “I was so happy about being in love with you, until I woke up last night and didn’t find you snuggled in my arms. Instead, I saw you climbing down from the tree like a thief in the night. Your daddy was right. You really are a hellava tomboy. It was hard going, but I followed you.”
“You followed me?”
“Yes, I've been noticing for days you don't seem as weak as I am. I thought you must be sneaking food somehow, and last night I saw you take the rabbit from the trap and break its neck. I don't know what you used to gut him. I guess you’ve got a knife hidden in your jeans. I saw you make tracks into the bushes, but I knew you were just making it look like someone else had taken the food.”
Maggie looked at Jerry in a completely different light, and her face morphed from the innocent pushover female in distress she had been showing him to something savvy, all knowing, and all calculating.
“Do you really have a grandmother?” she asked coldly.