Deadies: Book 1, 2 & 3

by Krystell Lake

  “Joe! Joe! Stop it! Stop it now!” I hear someone yell and I realize it is my voice. A voice I don’t recognize because it is brutish and commanding.

  Much to my surprise Joe loosens his firm grip on Doctor Mark’s neck. Nick uses this opening to swing Joe around and slam him against the opposite wall. Nick covers Joe’s body with his own. It’s an odd man-hug, a bromance gone awry.

  “Joe listen, Doc, he’s a dumbass, okay.” Nick’s voice rang out. A tone that was soothing, forceful and fatherly. The fire in Joe’s eyes seemed to smolder into a single ember.

  Doctor Mark is choking, rubbing his neck and bent over like a man on the verge of a much needed hurl, a much deserved hurl.

  “Doctor Mark, who were you on the phone with?” I asked. The unknown number of deadies trapped in the basement continued to bang on the basement door. I jump at the unexpected loud thumps.

  “Kait.” He answered readily but with a sprained larynx. “This is not the right house. I think it’s next door. I made a mistake.”

  “You didn’t see your son down there with the deadies? Was he one of them?” I asked even though he probably wouldn’t be able to tell what they look like as animated cadavers.

  “No, Joan and Brandon weren’t one of those things.”

  Nick and Joe are standing beside one another looking at me for guidance that I don’t have to give. “What are we going to do?” I asked.

  “We’re going to get the fuck out of here.” Joe emitted exactly what I was thinking but could not put into laymen’s terms. I want to go but can we really just leave like this.

  “I’m not going anywhere without my family.” Doctor Mark bravely added.

  “You fucked that up, Mark! The freaks will be here in minutes because we had to use our guns.” Joe is pissed but he is back to his controlled emotionless tone, a tone that I now seemed comforted by. Psycho kill you with my bare hands Joe, I’m not too fond of.

  “If I have to go by myself I’m going.” Doctor Mark proclaimed and I believed he was serious. It appeared he grew some balls right after Joe choked him out. Being close to death will do that to you; give you strength and courage you didn’t know you possessed.

  “Instead of fighting let’s figure this out.” Nick spoke to us all.

  “There’s nothing to figure out. Fuck this shit.” Joe was still annoyed but he maintained a composed version of annoyed. I was annoyed as well but I had the strength to tuck my anger away for the time being and let my logical rational-self dominate.

  To hell with it, I’ll take the lead or we will be here all day. “Guys, we’re already here. We don’t have time for this. It’s going to be dark soon. Let’s go next door, see if they’re alive and get out so we can get back to the house… This is not up for discussion.” The men stand frozen in place. “Doctor Mark is it the house over here?” I point to the left. “Or the house over here?” I point to my right.

  “Here,” Doctor Mark points to the left.

  I’m tired and for some strange and unknown reason I think I’m not going to die today. I laugh inside when I think ‘what would Buffy do’. She would kick some demons ass, go to The Bronze and hang out with Willow and Zander. I want my Scooby gang to make it back to the post office to hang out with the other survivors. This thought warms me and propels me forward.

  I open the front door and dash out before anyone can protest. I grab the crowbar Joe left by the side of the front door and I’m on my way. I look back and Doc is behind me. Nick catches up to me and takes the lead. Joe takes the rear. He’s with us. When I see him, I’m grateful. We need G.I. Joe. After all he is an American hero.

  CHAPTER 10

  We all traipsed across the grassy lawn in a scattered formation where I’m at the helm. I pass an abandoned lawnmower with what appears to be dried blood on the handle. I didn’t even want to know how it got there.

  We bypass the driveway and walk a portion of the yellow brick pathway that leads to the front door. We made it from the wrong house to the other house next door without a deadie jumping from behind a tree, dashing out from behind a bush or shuffling from around a minivan. This move was too good to be true. I would say it, but I didn’t want to jinx our good fortune?

  I’m the first one up the single step that leads to the front door. The door has a huge oval shaped stain glass in its center. Smash the glass and you’re in. I would never have a door like this in Chicago but I guess suburbanites feel they’re safe from crime. Safe from crime maybe, but not safe from deadies. I reach for the doorknob. I twist the knob gently and it’s unlocked. Is that good? Or is that bad?

  I push the door slightly ajar. Just enough to peek my head inside. My eyes venture forward first. I see what has now become a normal sight. There is a frail male deadie straight ahead. He is shirtless and asleep or what appears to be sleep on the bottom steps of the staircase that leads to the second floor landing.

  I tilt my head to the right. Inside the dining room are two deadies standing up asleep with their faces slumped down on top of the dark dusty oak tabletop. I open the door further to look to my left behind the door. I see two more deadies, napping side by side sitting on the floor with their backs up against a red wall.

  A huge painting of the downtown Chicago landscape sits on the lone wall. The canvass is a vivid portrayal of what the city used to look like. I blink twice and wonder if I can will the painting to fall and crush the skulls of the deadies that sit underneath it. That would take care of at least two of them. This would be a good time to have telekinesis.

  I have scanned the room enough to my liking. When I turned to address my rescue crew, all eyes are on me. I raise my index finger and place it out and to my lips. I give them a silent shhh. I don’t want to do anything that might stir the deadies into action. If I could stop breathing completely I would. The best defense is not offense. The best defense is utter silence.

  I have more to say so I ball my fist and release it. I place my index finger up in the air and signal by pointing straight into the house, through the closed door. I turn to them. I hope they understand last minute sign language.

  I balled my fist again and raised two fingers and point to the left of the door. I repeated the two fingers and pointed to the right. I could tell they understood exactly what I was trying to convey. Nick held up five fingers. I shook my head yes.

  They understand and I was relieved. I learned these preschool hand gestures from my days on the fashion runway, backstage sign language.

  I mouthed the word ‘sleep’ and they all shook their heads. Great, they understood. I placed the crowbar gently on the ground and slowly pushed the front door wide open.

  All the deadies hadn’t moved a muscle. I hope the hardwood under our feet isn’t a loud creaky nuisance.

  I pushed the door completely open and tip-toed my size nines into the house entryway. I wasn’t sure but I assumed all these houses were similar in floor plan so I retraced the steps I took in the house we were first in next door. Don’t wake the deadies. Don’t wake the deadies. Don’t wake the deadies played over and over in my head like a Britney Spears song in heavy rotation on a top forty radio station.

  I looked over my shoulder and I couldn’t believe these three guys were following me. This is weird. I’m the leader. I’m Fergie in the Black Eyed Peas. I’m the H.M.I.C. the head model in charge. This is no Versace runway this is a zombie apocalypse and I’m too sexy for this bullshit, but not too sexy to be eaten by deadies. I got to remember that.

  I raised my loaner Glock and pressed forward down the hall to what had to be the direction of the basement door. Hold up, wait a minute, there’s a deadie on the floor asleep on the goddamn basement door. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck us.

  I stop in my tracks and I know the guys do the same although I don’t look back to check. I’m not going to take my eyes off this dead bastard in a Hawaiian shirt, old cut-off denim shorts and flip flops.

  I can’t shoot the deadie. It will wake him and the five others we just passed up.
God what if there are more than just these six in the house? Hopefully it’s just these six. There are four of us and six of them. The odds are not in our favor. Are the odds ever in our favor? Every second of a minute, every minute of an hour, we are a stones through away from death.

  I can no longer lead. I don’t know what to do next. How do I get this deadie off the door without putting a bullet in him?

  Nick emerges at my side and he raises one finger, the wait a minute signal. He has a plan. Thank goodness. I refuse to thank God. God, yeah you, I have some choice words for you, Mr. Almighty. God seems to be on sabbatical somewhere out there. Maybe he went to Disney World, to hell with Mr. Omnipotent, Omnipresent, and Omniscient.

  Nick left me standing there and I didn’t turn around to see where he disappeared too. There would be no sudden moves from me. That was a guarantee. I was planted firmly right here. I made a pack with myself not to breathe too loud, think too loud or blink my eyes too loud.

  Nick was back in seconds. I looked over at him and he was holding the crowbar I had left at the door. He didn’t give me any eye contact, he just took two steps in front of me and jabbed the long sharp pointy end of the crowbar into the skull of the deadie.

  The crunch of the crowbar crashing into the skull and brain of the deadie was a disgusting crackle and gooey sloshing sound that I couldn’t compare to anything else. At least the deadie didn’t wake. Nick tried to pull the crowbar from the dead oozing skull. The crowbar got stuck, lodged in the blood, brains and bone. Gross! Nick put his boot on the shoulder of the deadie for leverage and yanked the crowbar from the dead man’s skull with one swift motion. That sound was grosser than the other. I would have thrown up in my own mouth if I wasn’t hardened by all the regular incidents of grossness that were now commonplace.

  Nick cleaned the bloody crowbar on the deadies ugly Hawaiian shirt. Nick then hooks the crowbar in one of the belt loops of his army green shorts. I watched as Nick drug the deadies body off the basement door.

  I exhaled just a little and looked over my shoulder at Doctor Mark and Joe. They were ready. I was ready. Let’s get this horror show on the road before I chicken out.

  Nick twisted the basement doorknob and it was locked. He glanced back at me with an abundance of frustration in his weary blue eyes. Can we catch a break? Nick looked around me and signaled for Doctor Mark. Nick silently mouthed the words ‘cell phone’ and waved for the doctor to give the cell to him.

  Doctor Mark reached in his pocket and retrieved the phone. He handed it over to Nick who in turn handed it to me. Why? I took the cell and placed the Glock in my pocket.

  Nick silently signaled to me using both his thumbs. He was telling me to text. He pointed at the door and mouthed the word ‘open’. I shook my head ‘yes’. I understood him.

  I unlocked the iPhone. I was glad there was no password. I don’t think I could handle yet another obstacle. Doctor Mark’s wife was the last call. So I went to text her. I had escaped my apartment with my iPhone but it was taken from me when I was with that other group of survivors. Things like this bring out the best in some people and the worse in others. I’ve seen the worse. The last group made sure of that. I swear I don’t ever want to see them again.

  I texted ‘OPEN THE DOOR NOW’, the caps lock was on. I didn’t bother to turn it off. Plus I felt no need for punctuation marks. Who really cared about grammar, spelling, periods and question marks? This deadies 101 class didn’t have a crusty old professor. You had to learn this crap all by yourself. It was a learn as you go course where an “F” equaled death. A “D” meant you were a deadie. A’s, B’s and C’s meant you live to see another day. But there could be a pop quiz at any given moment.

  I slipped the cell phone into my pocket and got the lucky Glock out. I hoped they wouldn’t respond to the text message. Seriously, just come open the goddamn door already.

  My thoughts were answered with scratching sounds from the opposite side of the door. Someone was removing something from the opposite side of the door. I could only assume they had barricaded it in some way. I wish they would keep the noise down. As soon as the basement doorknob twisted I raised my gun. Nick has already had his Magnum aimed at the door.

  The door crept open and a young man about my age peeked out. It had to be Brandon. He was a young version of his father.

  Brandon saw Nick first and then me. His lip trembled and I thought he might break down right before us. This situation is overwhelming.

  Doctor Mark stepped in front of me and grabbed his son by the forearm and pulled him into a hug. Doctor’s Mark’s ex-wife Joan inched out behind her son. Her eyes grew wide when she saw all the fire power Nick, Joe and I had trained on her. Guns tend to scare people. Or is it people with guns scare people? There was a time when guns scared me but now they are a great sense of comfort. The right to bear arms, the founding fathers had the wisdom to put that into the Constitution.

  The doctor left his son and grabbed his ex-wife into a passionate embrace that not only caught her off guard but also caught us all off guard. Maybe I’m reading more into it. He planted a quick peck on her lips as they pulled away from each other. A family reunion, at least something good came of this deadie filled doomsday.

  BLAM! I jumped out of my skin. What the fuck! I turned as the body hit the floor. Joe shot a deadie, the one that was asleep at the bottom of the stairs. Oh fuck me. There are four more deadies and we have to pass them on the way out of here.

  “Move! Move! Move!” Nick screams from the rear of the family reunion. BLAM! I turn to him and he has put a bullet in a deadie that has descended from the kitchen. Fuck me there are more of them in the kitchen. We all stampeded toward the front door. I thought of the time I witnessed the running of the bulls in Pamplona Spain. I was no longer a witness I was an active participant in the running from the deadies. I refused to look back. I didn’t want to know if there was a single deadie or ten deadies coming from the kitchen. I wanted to be airlifted out this house and into the waiting Camaro.

  BLAM! BLAM! Joe shot at the two deadies that were asleep on the dining room table. They were blocking the entryway and charging toward us. In the confusion Joe was trying to clear a path for us to make it to the front door. He missed the head of one of the deadies and shot him in the neck. The wounded deadie grabbed Joan’s arm and swung her around into the dining room.

  “Mom!” Brandon cried as his mother disappeared into the dining room. BLAM! BLAM! Joe was busy shooting at the deadies in front of us. BLAM! BLAM! BL-BL-BLAM! Nick had his hands full with the deadies that were coming from the kitchen behind us. I turned the corner and went after Joan. Brandon was trying to follow me into the dining room but he was being forcibly restrained by his father.

  “Let me go! Let me go!” I heard Brandon yell from behind me.

  Joan was fighting with the hostile deadie. She was viciously clawing at the deadies face. She had gouged his eyes out and I wonder how she had got close enough to do that. Maybe his eyes were already gone beforehand. I held the Glock up and aimed it at the deadie. All the while Joan is fighting with him. I couldn’t get a clean shot off. Joan was in the way. There was too much movement. I was afraid that I would hit Joan. I was hesitating. My fear of ending a human life made my finger tremble on the trigger. I lowered my weapon. I felt like I could faint if that was allowed. Fainting is not allowed. Jesse, don’t fuck up! I raised my gun.

  BLAM! The shot rang out from behind me and made me temporarily deaf in my right ear. Joan screamed. Nick has shot the fighting deadie. I was stuck in my tracks as the deadie fell to the floor.

  “C’mon!” Nick barked and I regained my sense of hearing and my balance. I reached for Joan. She was standing over the deadie with the bullet hole in his head. She was in a trance. Nick ran into the room and grabbed her by her arm and pushed her out the room.

  Our straggling trio was running to catch up to the others. I jumped over a dead deadie and Joan stumbled over it. Joe was standing on the outside of the front door
and I wanted to be on that side of the door more than anything. At least that’s what I thought until I was on the front lawn. They were everywhere, deadies, too many to count, coming from everywhere. We had been shooting off guns like we were in the Wild West. I guess we are in the wild Midwest. We all sprinted toward the Camaro and the Escalade. I jumped in the passenger seat and scooted to the back seat when I saw Joe running toward me. Nick was already entering the driver’s side door.

  BLAM! Nick had shot a deadie in the face. I had witnessed it from the back seat. Nick got in and closed the door but for some reason we weren’t moving. We had to move to get the hell out of here. In seconds we would be surrounded. Shit! Nick was fumbling around in his pocket for the keys.

  “Nick hurry up!” I heard myself yell as the deadies were closing in on us. I wasn’t sure if Doctor Mark and his family were in the Escalade. There was too much going on near the Camaro for me to even see the truck in front of us.

  One short one-eyed deadie came charging at Nick. I was unprepared for this but Joe wasn’t. He reached over Nick’s face, stuck his gun out the driver’s window and put a bullet in the deadies head from about five feet away.

  The engine rambled and roared. I almost screamed for joy but caught myself. Just as we sped off a deadie beat its boney fists into the trunk of the Camaro. Nick cut the steering wheel a sharp left and knocked the legs out from under another deadie that was waddling toward us.

  “Woo Hoo!” Joe yelled out all hillbilly redneck like.

  “Kneel to Zod!” Nick shouted. We were speeding down the residential street with deadies in our rearview and Doctor Mark’s truck in our front view. I laid my head down on the backseat and closed my eyes with my hand rested on Nick’s lucky Glock.

  CHAPTER 11

  There’s no place like home, Dorothy said it in The Wizard of Oz. I’m not sure I believe it. Here we are, home, safe and sound. I’m not sure how safe but it is definitely soundless. The sun had gone down and we were back before the darkness set in. Nick and Joe were quick to sing the freaks come out at night but the night also brought a relief to the summer heat. Last time Nick and Joe returned without Ray. I miss Ray. I miss his tooth-filled smile, his beautifully coiffed eyebrows, his long eyelashes and his sense of humor. I have his Nintendo DSi to remind me of the short time I had him as my friend.