“Because the parasites know we’re here. And because this place isn’t fireproof.”
GHOST
I don’t want to be right about the parasites. I like this family. I feel safe here and I think they do too. For the first time in months I feel a part of something. It’s not that Eric didn’t make me feel like family, but our relationship was tainted by the undercurrent of imminent death…considering Eric’s advanced age and declining health, we both knew it was a relationship that wasn’t going to last. When the inevitable happened, I realized I had no one left to live for. I thought I could never feel more alone when Eric told me what happened to my family, so I was surprised at the strength of the emotions that I felt when he died. My despair was so overwhelming that I slipped in my training and violated Eric’s golden rule of survival: don’t be seen.
Why did I let that little girl see me? I was standing in Eric’s room next to his body, feeling forgotten by the world. Did anyone know I was here? Did anyone know I survived? I hadn’t called or texted or Facebooked or emailed anyone since the Invasion. Eric didn’t have a computer or a TV. I heard through the wind-up radio that the government made Internet servers and electricity a high priority so people could keep in touch. Eric said they were trying to provide people with access to entertainment to distract them from their miserable lives and keep panic to a minimum. From what I could hear on the radio, they were also trying to keep the kids from falling behind in school. It made sense to replace traditional classrooms with courses online combined with lectures on TV, but I wasn’t lucky enough to have that level of home-schooling.
Eric provided my education. It was a combination of dry history lectures and lessons on “what is wrong with this country.” This was not my favorite side of grandfather, but what he failed to cover in academics he made up for in survival training. Eric had lived through several wars, and he knew a thing or two about staying safe. His pessimism kept us both alive. Well, up to a point…the one thing he couldn’t beat was old age.
I stood by Eric’s body as it grew cold. A cloak of silence had settled over the place when he took his last breath, suffocating all hope. Does anyone remember me? Do any of my friends wonder what happened to me? If there’s no one who knows I exist anymore, if there’s no one around to see or hear me, do I even exist? Is this like that movie The Others where I’m trapped between worlds in the house I died in, unaware I’m dead? When I saw that little girl at the window, I had to feel like I was still here. If she saw me, I was. She probably wouldn’t be believed if she told anyone anyway. She was not at the window very often, so she was probably not allowed to look out and only did it on the sly. I can respect that. She appeared to be about eight or nine years old, and there’s an “R” rated world outside her window she should not see.
Her reaction when she caught sight of me lifted my spirits. She made me think of a puppy with her eyes wide with excitement and her face full of the joy of seeing someone new to play with. I could hear Eric scolding me in my head, but I didn’t care. I’d been seen, so I was still here. There’s satisfaction with being acknowledged and solace with making a connection with another person. Unfortunately it was short-lived. A shadow cast by an advancing storm cloud reminded me that I can’t afford to start caring about others; the threat of death continues to hang over this life and I have no more reserves left in my emotional arsenal to deal with the loss of someone else.
The hovering rain clouds were not the only new development. I noticed through the telescope that the dead were arriving in droves. They had worryingly changed their tactics; instead of trying the doors and windows like they used to, they were hiding. Their ability to plan and evolve was alarming. Why couldn’t they be like “normal” zombies who flounder about till they bump into a clueless victim? These parasites weren’t roaming without purpose. They were getting organized and using the art of deception. The ones who were still upright and mobile rolled around in mud before crouching down in the foliage, waiting for a chance to surprise someone. Those who were in a more advanced state of decay decided to finish out their festering existence as a trap: they laid themselves side-by-side on the ground around homes, hoping someone would stumble upon them so they could possess a fresh body. They kept so quiet and still, it was almost as if they had died a second death.
Then there were the freshly dead who took to breaking in my neighbors’ garage. I stopped seeing anybody in their downstairs windows after that. It was a relief to see them upstairs, it meant they had sealed up the lower level in case anything got through the garage door. Eric said the Macfarlanes were a pretty smart family, so they were probably set with barricades and food storage. He also added that they weren’t as smart as him, so it was best if I didn’t know their names or their stories so I wouldn’t feel more pain than necessary when they passed on.
I saw them more frequently after the power went out. I guess there was nothing else for them to do but look out the window and wonder when Homeland Security would save them. They must have believed the same lies I was exposed to on the radio. Some official announcer would say things like “Be patient” and “People are evacuated in order of need.” So how bad were things if a house half filled with zombies was not considered a problem big enough to take care of? How bad do things have to be when they can’t keep the electricity going? If the parasites were organizing and laying traps in the suburbs for a handful of people, I could only imagine how concentrated their efforts were to bring something as important as a power station down. Then again, it wouldn’t take much to take out one pole, and there wouldn’t be many people willing to come out and fix it.
Now they’ve seen a way to flush people out into the open. The Macfarlanes may feel that these parasites are wandering aimlessly, but they’re more organized than that. They seem to communicate telepathically, and they’re definitely looking for something in the embers of that burned-out home.
In a way I expected for them to ramp-up their game. The last two weeks have been a bit warmer than usual and that had to speed up the rate of decomposition. The earlier infected were already lying down in defeat…if the next wave of parasites didn’t find some new hosts soon, they would join their comrades mouldering on the ground.
It’s only a matter of time before they make their next big move.
JESSE
I could help if they just let me look out the window.
I like it here. I’m comfortable here. It’s exciting to have space to run around in, especially in a home that’s more funhouse than house. Naked’s getting comfortable too, she’s exploring and rooting around in all this new stuff and wagging her tail nonstop. Well, at least she was earlier—right now she’s sitting by Ghost at the front window and she’s all tense. We’re all tense. We’re stressed and dressed like we’re ready to run again.
Yeah, we’re back in our boots and raincoats with our split kits at our sides. I can see why Houston was angry at the thought of leaving; I don’t want to go either. We should be kicking back having dinner and playing Uno. Instead we’re all split up at different windows…except me. And everyone has a fire extinguisher to play with…except me. What’s the point of anyone but me having a fire extinguisher? They’re not doing anything with them! If I could have one I would sit down on the waxed wood floor in the hallway, turn it away from me, turn it on, and see how far it could push me down the hall.
No one wants to talk to me. They keep telling me to be quiet, that they have to listen really closely for something. Mom and Ghost are wearing these weird contraptions over their eyes. Mom says it helps them see in the dark. I think it makes them look like spies on a stakeout. I wonder what I have to do to get them to let me try those out.
I go up to Naked to see if she will play with me, but she starts to growl and the hair on her back stands up straight again. That’s the first thing I notice. The second thing I notice is a new smell. A bad smell. A smell even worse than a backyard full of dead bodies. It’s bitter and its harsh and it a smell so bad it forc
es my mouth down in a heavy frown. I have to hold my hand over my nose just to try to breathe. “What’s that awful stink?” I ask Ghost. He doesn’t move or say anything ‘cause he’s watching something really carefully out that window. I tiptoe over to Mom. “Mom, what’s that smell?”
I can tell Mom’s bothered by it too, the nose on her face is all wrinkled up like it can’t believe what it’s smelling. She’s not really paying attention to me either because she answers in a flat voice: “It’s the smell of burning flesh.” I can’t tell which is worse, this smell of burning flesh or rotting flesh. Mom’s staring just as hard as Ghost is at something outside, so I go find Houston to ask him some questions. I have no luck with him either. He just slowly pushes me down and away from the window, his eyes never leaving the outside. I go to KC, but she’s like the others, except she’s shaking like she’s freezing to death or something.
I hear a hissing whoosh! and spin around to see Ghost turn his fire extinguisher on at something out the window. Suddenly Mom turns hers on and shoots it like a weapon at something outside. I hear KC and Houston’s extinguishers go off as well. And then I see a light through Ghost’s window that seems to be coming from next door. It’s not a big light like the ones they turn on at baseball fields at night or a streetlight or car headlights or anything. I’m not used to this light, but it’s familiar. I squint my eyes like I do when I try to focus on a math problem and try to remember where I’ve seen this light before.
Wait! I’ve got it! I’ve seen it at camp when we have campfires and on bonfire nights when we roast marshmallows and in my aunt’s backyard when we roast potatoes and toast Starbursts on our sticks.
And I saw it last night when our house was on fire.
RENEE
They keep coming at us, embers burning in their rotting hands. Sometimes the hands are so decomposed, the coals burn straight through them. We pick the human torches off as soon as they get close enough to hit with the foam from our fire extinguishers. We neutralize the glowing coals, but they keep coming at us with more. I don’t think these extinguishers are going to make much of a difference, not with the house next door on fire. Once the trees catch alight it’s only a matter of time before Eric’s house does too.
I never knew Eric’s next-door neighbors, they always kept to themselves, so I don’t know how to feel when I see them run out of the house, kits in hand, only to get bitten by a waiting mob of the undead. Despair starts to creep over my consciousness, just like it did last night. I watch as groups of parasites go to other houses and set them on fire. We’ve got our kits, we’re all suited and booted for flight, but where can we run? The only house they’re not bothering to burn is Laura’s and that’s probably because they know it’s not worth the effort if there’s nobody at home. The moment we enter it, it will become the next target.
I’ve already tried to summon help. I shot off another flare as the zombies made their slow and deliberate way over here, but there’s no sound of helicopters coming to our rescue. I’m thinking about how bad things must be all over if troops can’t be spared to check out a line of homes on fire. I’m still thinking about it when my extinguisher sputters and dies. “I’m out!” I shout to Ghost. This is followed by Houston and KC echoing “Me too!”
I sure hope that creepy kid has a plan.
JESSE
Everyone’s finished playing with their fire extinguishers and have met up in the hallway. We’re all looking expectantly at Ghost. Ghost looks over us like he’s checking to make sure we’re all complete. He turns to me and says, “You’re in luck, Jess. Would you like to check out that hole where Eric’s laundry chute used to be? We turned it into a slide, and you get to be the first to ride it!”
Awesome! That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard! Why don’t other people turn their laundry chutes into slides? I know my nan had a laundry chute when she was little and she used to force her cat to use it as a slide, but a slide inside the house for people? Brilliant! Who knew Eric could be so cool?
“Just move over once you’re at the bottom so no one lands on top of you, then sit tight and wait for us. And don’t forget to take your kit with you.” Sigh. There’s always some safety rules to go with the fun. That’s okay as long as I get to go on the indoor slippy slide again and again I’m happy.
I run right up to it and get ready to zoom down it, but then I stop. It’s all dark and I can’t see to the bottom. Suddenly I’m scared. What’s down there? I don’t want to slide down to a place I can’t see and be alone in the dark! “I changed my mind,” I announce. “I don’t want to go after all.”
“Too late!” I hear KC say behind me, and she shoves me down the slide!
“Moooooooooom!” I howl all the way down. The tunnel starts out big and gets narrow, so narrow I have to squiggle my way out of it because of the split kit on my back, but then I land on something springy. I feel around with my hands and realize where I am real quick.
I’m in a car! Eric’s slide goes through the sunroof of a car! This is even better than the way the Dukes of Hazard get into a car. I hear KC yell, “Move it, Jess. I’m on my way down!” and quickly scoot one seat over. KC bounces down next to me and scurries to the back seat. I join her just as Houston plops down. I hear a yelp as Naked gets pushed down the slide and we pull her to the floor at our feet. Mom gets stuck for a bit in the bottom of the slide and I hear her mumble something I would get my mouth washed out for saying. Ghost follows her and pushes the slide away while he stands in the passenger’s seat.
There’s not a lot of room now that we’re all in here. I don’t think this car was meant for more than four people. I wish I could see what car it is, but there’s no light so far. I hear the tinkling of keys being passed from one person to the next and hear Ghost whisper to my mom “I’m going to have to stand through the sunroof and manually pull the cord to the garage doors to get them open. The parasites won’t expect us to be leaving until the house is in flames, so hopefully there won’t be too many in the driveway. Can I count on you to drive? Can I count on you to run these things over if they get in the way?”
“I’ve done it before,” my mother says grimly. I bet she’s thinking about the time she dragged one of the infected home under her car. I wish I wasn’t thinking about that right now, in this strange car, in a dark garage, with zombies on the other side of the door. My mom’s voice comes right at me out of the darkness: “Jesse, I want you to keep your head down and your eyes closed. Don’t open them until I say so.” I start to protest, but then I remember what that ghoul looked like crawling out from under mom’s car and decide there’s nothing out there I want to see.
KC
I’m sure it’s not good to have one’s adrenaline up this high twice in two days. I thought my mind was going to explode from an overload of danger the night before, yet here we are again, about to rush out of another burning building into the waiting arms and teeth of the Undead. This time my brain is too far gone to worry about going crazy with fear. This time it’s my heart I’m afraid for—it’s beating so hard and fast it’s about to burst. I smell the smoke coming from the house above us, but I don’t say anything. I hold my breath as Ghost gives one almighty pull on the cord and the garage screeches open.
I’m still holding it as Mom peels out of the garage. She doesn’t even make it four feet before she hits one of those things. She can’t help it; they’re everywhere. A quick look around reveals what I already suspected: every house on fire, including Eric’s. Did anyone else make it? I strain to see through the haze, but fail to see anyone I recognize.
I look at Ghost, who’s pulling the sunroof shut on Eric’s Jeep. (When did Eric get a Jeep?) I look over at my mother and take in her solemn and determined expression. Her concentration on the road is intense, and every time she hits another parasite, her bloodless lips press into an even tighter line of tension. From the look in her eyes I think she recognizes some of the parasites she’s ramming with the Jeep.
It’s like we’re
in a scene from some bog-standard horror movie. We’ve got the dark of night, we’ve got the fog (well, actually, it’s smoke from the burning buildings…) and we’ve got an undead horde after us with a hearty appetite for warm bodies. We’re just missing one thing: these zombies make no noise. Fictitious zombies constantly moan and groan, but these just wordlessly scrape their way along the pavement. I don’t know why, but I find this more unsettling. There’s nothing but the sound of the engine, the dragging of feet, and the occasional car-shuddering thud when we have to hit someone.
And then I hear a desperate voice cry, “Help! Up here! Please don’t leave me!”
HOUSTON
It’s Martin, the kid that rides KC’s bus and annoys the hell out of her. He’s up in a tree fending off the crowd of zombies at the base of the trunk, whacking and pushing each corpse away with a stick.
“We can’t fit him in here.” Ghost says in an even but determined tone. I bet if he were driving he would have driven right past Martin, but Mom ignores him and comes screeching to a halt right under the tree’s branches, smacking a few parasites out of the way with the front of the Jeep. Before Ghost gets a chance to argue, KC pries open the sunroof. “Jump onto the Jeep!” she shouts.
The roof bows deeply under Martin’s weight, and he isn’t exactly heavy. The zombies have now turned their attention to the Jeep. They push at the heavy plastic sides and search for openings with their fingers. I hear Jesse whimpering and can feel KC shivering next to me. Ghost forcefully pushes KC back down into her seat and yells back up at Martin, “There’s no room in here! You’ll have to ride on the roof! Hold onto the luggage rack bar!” Then he pulls the sunroof shut.
Notes from a Necrophobe Page 8