by Glen Krisch
He rolled onto his back and stared up at the stars twinkling overhead. The sky seemed to spin, and his stomach pitched and heaved, and he was certain he would vomit again.
His mind flashed to those terror-filled minutes when he was bound by the wrists and ankles and tossed into the back of Dylan Primrose’s van.
(Oh, dear God, Dad is gone … Charlie, Mom, Kendra … they’re all gone. I’m all alone. Alone … alone … alone …)
Billy closed his eyes against the swirling stars, and tears pushed through his lashes, pouring down his cheeks. He was alone.
“No,” he screamed, and he could barely hear himself over the zombies, who now counted among their number the members of his family. “No!” he cried, and the one word he found the ability to articulate became a broken, wretched thing as his voice cracked and gave in. Billy Upton cried until there were no more tears left to shed. He soon felt so empty that it seemed the only sensible thing to do was to simply roll off the roof and let gravity take care of matters.
Stars pinpricked the backdrop of night sky like bitter jewels, the inky blackness surrounding them haloed in indigo. There was a light to be found amongst all this death and loss, there had to be; otherwise, he really should just offer himself to the monsters below like some kind of morbid communion wafer.
Instead of rolling into the abyss, Billy Upton rolled the other way, until he was able to get his hands and knees under him. And with the night encompassing the world for as far as he could see, there was only one option—to wait it out.
Slowly, with adrenaline-sapped limbs, he crawled up the incline of the roof until he reached the chimney at its peak. He wedged himself next to the bricks, pulled his knees close to his chest, and hugged his arms around them. He trembled in fear, but also from the cold. Breath gusted from his lips in a pale fog. He rested his cheek against his arms and, no matter how hard he tried, failed to block out not only the milling undead waiting for him, but also the memory of his sister feasting on the flesh of their mother.
~
Billy awoke with sunlight warming his exposed skin, and the rumble of a 4-wheel drive vehicle approaching. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and shivered, his limbs stiff and as cold as ice, his thoughts muddled and slow. His tight back muscles threatened to spasm as he cautiously stood, holding onto the chimney for balance.
A construction-grade pickup truck was closing in on the house. Some kind of metal grating had been welded over its windows. Two men dressed in green jungle fatigues stood in the pickup’s bed, training machine guns on the zombies straggling their way toward the house. The truck struck occasional bodies. When they slowed near the house, a zombie somehow hooked its arms over the tailgate. One of the men in the truck bed fired a single round into its skull, and it fell to the wayside, rolled to a stop, unmoving.
Billy, feeling on edge and uncertain, ducked down next to the chimney.
The truck circled, finally coming to a halt about fifty feet from the house. One of the men—a tall, lanky black man with a thick graying beard—leaned over, exchanged his machine gun for a megaphone, and held it to his lips.
“Hello in the house! We know there are survivors inside. The horde wouldn’t linger if there wasn’t living flesh to tempt them.” The man lowered the megaphone, and another—a twenty-something white man with a blond mullet and dangling earrings—whispered into his ear as he pointed to the second floor.
Billy shifted his weight, ready to jump up and down and wave his arms, but something caused him to hesitate. A feeling deep in his gut.
The horde turned its attentions on the truck, soon surrounding them. The man with the megaphone fired a handgun, clearing the area closest to the bed. The blond man strafed his machine gun across the crowd, dropping them so quickly they soon piled up, creating an obstacle for the others.
The man once again held the megaphone to his lips. “We can’t wait around forever. Whoever you are inside, you have five seconds to make your presence known.”
“One …” the man said as the machine gun fire escalated. “Two …”
Billy took a deep breath. He didn’t know what to do; he didn’t know these violent strangers, but he also didn’t see any other way to get off this roof. His best bet would be to simply hide and wait for them to leave.
“Three!” the black man said, and then exchanged another whispered conversation with the blond guy as they nodded in agreement. “Four! Last chance! We can’t pass up an opportunity to destroy this many zombies all at once.”
Billy didn’t know what he was talking about. He lifted his head slightly, trying to get a better view.
“Five! May God have mercy on your souls!” the man shouted, his voice cracking on the last word.
He set aside the megaphone and picked up a tube-like weapon, lifting it to his shoulder. He toggled something on top of the tube (it’s a sight piece for lining up a target, stupid! he cried out inside) and only then did Billy realize it was a grenade launcher, like in that one Schwarzenegger movie. It let out a loud whoosh as the grenade shot out at the house.
Billy finally stood, waving his arms for attention, but it was too late.
An ear-splitting explosion sounded as the roof came apart in a torrent of fire, splinters of wood, and other debris. The blast tossed Billy skyward, his limbs twisting, shattering, torn to pieces, set ablaze.
He never felt the impact with the ground, just the exhilaration of flying oh so high.
CHAPTER 14
Billy blinked, his mind a mix of sludgy thoughts. He had the strangest sensation as he watched Charlie pull out his pocket knife. It was like all this had already happened, but, of course, that was impossible. Before today, he would’ve never considered the reality of zombies walking the earth. That idea was downright silly, a thing for movies and comic books. Nothing close to this situation had even crossed his mind until now.
He picked up his bike from where he had let it fall to the grass. He walked it a good fifty feet, dreading every snapped twig, before he climbed onto it.
He was supposed to leave Charlie, find their dad and alert him to the dire situation. It made plenty of sense, and there was no way he wanted to remain at the fence with the zombies gathering on the other side.
Yet … he felt compelled to not leave, even though danger was so close.
He watched as his brother cut long lengths of vines from underbrush with his pocket knife, threaded them through the severed fence like a clumsy surgeon closing a fatal wound.
Billy didn’t leave. He wasn’t going to—that path had come and gone.
After a couple minutes, Charlie noticed his little brother was still close at hand.
“What’s going on?” Charlie said. “What’s wrong?”
“I— I don’t know,” Billy said and peddled back to his brother. “But we can’t stay here. We can’t let ourselves get separated. It’s a feeling in my gut. It’s more than just what dad would say about it. It’s like it’s life or death that we stick together.”
“Just go, man. I’m almost—” Charlie said, but then a zombie pushed through a clump of underbrush on the other side of the fence; seeing Charlie, it groaned, stumbling for him.
“Oh, man, watch out!” Billy said, too loudly, alerting the others.
The sounds of movement multiplied, drew closer, became more frenzied.
“Shit,” Charlie muttered.
An undead woman in a soiled lab coat stumbled to her knees and began to crawl toward him. Her fingers reached the fence, began to paw at it. The skin of her fingers and palms sloughed off like cheese pulled across a grater. Unfazed, she continued to try to reach Charlie, who looked back at Billy with desperation.
“Just use your belt,” Billy said, trying to keep his voice low.
“Dude, great idea … but if you haven’t noticed, I’m a little busy at the moment.” He shoved the zombie’s face through the c
hain-link. She fell back, but only a step, and it did little to deter her. If anything, it increased her motivation as she again pressed against the fence.
“Right,” Billy said and hurried over. “I’ll get it. Just hold the fence.”
“Sure, go ahead. Take your time.”
Billy undid Charlie’s buckle, then pulled hard on the belt to free it from the loops of his pants. Another four or five zombies were closing on the fence. Others would be near within seconds. Billy threaded the belt through the flaps cut into the fence and cinched it tight. He locked the buckle, and stepped away from the fence.
“I think that’s it,” Billy said.
Charlie looked reluctant to let go of the chain-link, the undead seeking his flesh only inches away. He released his grip, and surprisingly their patchwork repair held. For the time being, at least. He tiptoed backward, as if the sound of a crumpled leaf might send the fence crashing in on them.
“Let’s get out of here!” Charlie said in a raspy whisper.
They both backed away and hopped on their bikes. The fence bent from the weight of the horde, from their ceaseless insistence.
As they sped away, Billy kept pace. He was sure his big brother could drop him without much effort, but also sensed Charlie was hesitant to lead the way into the unknown.
“Thanks,” Charlie said. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah,” Billy said and paused in thought, “I think I did.”
They shared a grin and peddled on, and after riding in silence for a good stretch, Billy broke the silence.
“Charlie?”
“Yeah, little brother?”
“How do you know so much about zombies? You knew what a horde is. You didn’t seem all that shocked to see it.”
Charlie’s eyes darkened. His upper lip curled as if he might snarl. He stood on his pedals and cranked through a few turns of the gears, but Billy stayed with him.
“Charlie, come on.”
“Fine,” he sighed, and eased off the pace. They rode slow enough to talk. “That party I went to last week, you know, the one down at Milner’s Pond?”
Billy had known about the pond out near the primitives since he was a little kid. Only recently had he heard stories about how it turned into make-out point most summer nights.
“Yeah, the one at midnight Mom and Dad don’t know about?”
“You mean the party Mom and Dad will never know about?”
Charlie glared, and it was enough to describe the level of pain he would inflict on him if their parents should ever find out.
“Uh, yeah, that one.”
“Well, some of the people were talking. They weren’t all local. Heck, some even go to public school. But there was this one girl—”
“There’s always a girl involved when you open your mouth.”
“Well, yeah, you’ll know all about it soon enough, believe me.”
Billy grunted his disgust, but he pretty much knew what Charlie was talking about. He didn’t notice until recently just how incredible girls were, everything about them. Even though his thoughts had changed on the subject, he didn’t feel ready to share this information with the world, at least not just yet.
“So, this girl was talking about the undead?” Billy said, trying to redirect the conversation.
“Yeah … Lainy. She’s a sophomore and’s got a nice rack.”
“Earth to Charlie, earth to Charlie.”
“Right. So Lainy, we’d just been making out for a while when Pete Landers shows up with a pony keg of beer. Lainy loves her beer and downed three solo cups in nothing flat. I thought we’d then go off for some alone time, but she started telling this story around the campfire. I’m sitting real close to her on this ginormous fallen tree trunk. She’s talking about the rising dead, how they roam the land, searching for human meat. I think she’s bluffing, you know, telling a scary story around the fire.”
“Don’t tell me—you started laughing, right?”
Charlie looked away.
“I guess her cousin or aunt or whatever, she’s a nurse somewhere near St. Louis. Her cousin was making her three a.m. rounds in a ward full of flu cases. When she never came back to the nurses’ station, one of the others went to look for her. She found her, all right. Dead on the floor, some old geezer chewing on her guts.”
“What happened?” Billy said, entranced by the story.
“This other nurse had the sense to close the door and lock it. She called security, and then I guess the message went up the chain of command real quick. The geezer was isolated, then every last flu victim was taken away before the sun came up. Supposedly, it was dudes in army fatigues that did the moving.”
“And you believe Lainy?”
“No reason not to. And then, when she finished her story, others started chiming in. Everyone’s heard similar stories. We don’t really leave the grounds for most of the year, and since we don’t have TV …” He shrugged.
“So the world is ending and we didn’t even know about it?”
“Pretty much,” Charlie said with a morose chuckle.
Charlie slowed his bike to a stop when they came across a fork in the road.
“What now?”
“Kendra. Think we should go get her?”
“Mom would be pissed if we didn’t swing by Blake Tanner’s place,” Billy said.
“You’re probably right,” Charlie said, though he didn’t seem one hundred percent sure.
“And it’s really not more than a few extra minutes out of our way.”
“Fine. Let’s just hurry up.”
They rode in silence again, with Billy thinking about noises in the distance, noises that could possibly be the horde, but he doubted it since the trail had veered away from the fence line.
“Do you think they’ll believe us?” Billy asked.
“Tanner and Kendra? Probably not. But they don’t have to. We just need to pass on the word, then we can leave Tanner’s cabin knowing we did our duty.”
Billy laughed.
“What?”
“You said doodie,” Billy said and snickered.
Even though Charlie tried to act like he’d left his immaturity behind, it was still a part of his personality, like it or not. He started laughing too, and as he really got going again, his front tire dipped into a crack in the limestone trail. He had no chance of righting his handlebars, his weight too far over the front wheel, and his laughter choked off to nothing as he fought to remain upright. But it was too late. His momentum sent him tumbling over the handlebars.
His right shoulder took the brunt of the initial impact, and then he caromed through a violent roll. Even over the screaming, Billy still heard the audible snapping of bone.
CHAPTER 15
Billy skidded to a halt and rushed to his brother’s side. Once there, he didn’t know what to do. His brother writhed in pain, clutching his left arm, an arm that appeared to have a new elbow joint midway up the forearm.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Charlie said through gritting teeth.
“Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap,” Billy muttered, his mind reeling.
Charlie groaned, shifted over to his hip and tried to lever up to standing, but a jolt of pain sent him back to the ground.
“Wait … just hold on.” Billy hovered over him, vacillating between reaching out to help and suppressing the urge to vomit at the sight of the ruined arm. “Why don’t you stay here? Tanner’s cabin is just around the corner. I’ll go get help.”
“No … I’m not staying here. Remember … we stay together no matter what? Just give me a second,” Charlie said. He fluttered fingers around the edges of the fracture, searching for the best way to support it. Finally, with pain sweat gathering on his forehead, he cradled his wrist. “Now, just reach under my right arm …”
Billy gently hook
ed his hand under his brother’s arm and helped him to his feet. He looked Charlie over, but didn’t see more serious injuries, just a scraped cheek that seeped blood like falling tears. “You okay to walk?”
“Think so. Let’s just go. You were right. The cabin’s just around the bend. We’d see it if it wasn’t for those trees.”
Charlie shrugged off any other help and started trudging down the trail.
Billy was going to try to walk both bikes, but Charlie’s front rim was shot. He pulled both bikes aside and set them in the underbrush, taking a mental note about the sugar maple nearby, then hurried after his brother.
“Fuckin’ doodie,” Charlie said without looking his way.
“What?”
“My arm’s bent every which way because of fuckin’ doodie.”
Billy didn’t laugh. There was no way he could laugh now.
Charlie let out a pained chuckle between gritted teeth, but they said nothing more.
When they reached the door, Billy knocked, noticed how pale and drawn Charlie appeared, and then knocked even harder.
“Jesus, just a Goddamned minute!” Tanner shouted.
The door opened a crack and Tanner’s shaggy head peered out.
“What?” he barked.
“Kendra here?”
“Nope,” he said, about to close the door.
“Wait!” Billy said, waving Charlie over so Tanner could see the damage.
“What is it now, kid? I’m really—aw, shit, what happened?”
“It’s a long story,” Billy said. “We’re Kendra’s brothers.”
“I sussed that one out just fine. What happened?”
“Charlie flipped off his bike up the road and broke his arm,” Billy said. “We need a ride, and fast.”
Tanner bit his lower lip and opened the door a few inches wider. He hesitated before looking from Charlie to Billy, then over his shoulder. “You got yourself put together, Kendra? Don’t want your little brothers seeing anything that’ll scar them for life.”