Zomb-Pocalypse 5

by Megan Berry

  I lay in the hard, uncomfortable truck bed as the sun begins to light up the sky. Slowly I can start to make out details of the hidey hole where I spent the night. The tarp is blue, and the boxes of canned food that beat me up last night while I was rolling around, are a variety of stuff that makes my mouth water- despite my situation. I’m tucked in near the tailgate and there are several more cases of beer stacked near my feet, as well as a canvas duffel bag.

  In another hour the day is as bright as it’s going to get, and I’m left laying here with a terrible case of nerves. Despite the zombie activity that kept me terrified all night, being in the back of this truck has proven to be relatively safe- but there is no guarantee what will happen when I try and leave. I try to force my body to move several times, but my mind clamps down, freezing my muscles from following the command. Silas would tell me I was burning daylight, and it’s true. Silas. God only knows what those people have done to him. My leg twitches, and I know I’ve got to quit being such a selfish baby, and get out of my head, and stop letting fear paralyze me. I can be scared of dying all I want, but If I’m too scared to even move to save myself, and the others, then I’m going to die here anyway- I might as well die the way I choose and that is trying to find Silas, Dad, Ryan, and Jack.

  That little pep talk is easier said than done because even though, in a heartbeat I would choose to die my own way and know I would make that sacrifice to save any one of the others, the idea of being bitten is the most horrific thing I can possibly imagine. I start to slowly move my stiff legs and there is no way to do it soundlessly. It isn’t anything crazy loud, but it feels like I might as well get a neon sign advertising the Jane buffet. I look up at the tarp, and the thin strip of sky that is visible near where the tarp doesn’t completely cover the tailgate and I know it’s going to rattle like crazy the second I touch it, just like it did last night when I dove in here.

  I strain my ears for another couple minutes and then decide that I have to do it, or else I never will, and I’ll die here in fear. The only thing I hear is the same quiet moan I’ve been hearing most of the night, but it almost sounds like its far away. “Silas, Silas, Silas.” I almost chant to myself as a way to give me motivation, and maybe a little courage too, and then I slowly get up onto my knees.

  I have to resist the urge to let out a groan. My entire body is stiff and sore and aching from spending the night in the fetal position on the freezing cold metal. I get myself up onto my hands and knees and pause to let all my bones crack and snap back into place. It doesn’t help.

  My backpack brushes against the tarp and makes it rustle as I move forward. My gun hasn’t left my hand all night, but I grip it harder as I reach the little ribbon of daylight at the end of the tarp. This is it. I pause again and listen, but everything is quiet now. Come on Jane, I mentally admonish myself. This next little bit will be the hardest, getting the courage to peek my head up past the tarp and over the tail gate. I have the mental image of a zombie standing nearby, ready to latch onto my face and rip it clean off. I tell myself I can move faster than a zombie, even though I know that might not be true, and then I do one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to force myself to do. I poke my head up into the world.

  At first the sun makes me blink, but I try desperately to see past the little sun spots dancing on my retinas to see what’s out there. I don’t see any shadows looming closely and after a second or two, my vision clears. I quickly scan the area, and at first my sluggish brain doesn’t understand what the rows and rows of attached bungalows are, until I see the motel sign. I’m instantly ill at ease, there is no telling who might be holed up in one of these rooms watching me. I do a quick scan of the area before climbing over the edge of the tailgate and jumping down. My legs almost buckle when I hit the pavement, but I manage to stay upright. My first couple steps, and my foot falls asleep from the long hours spent laying awkwardly. It makes each step agony as a million little pin pricks feel like they are being driven into my foot.

  I look around nervously, not sure if I could even run right now, but thankfully the parking lot is clear, except for the giant gory blood stain, not very far from the truck. I hobble over to the truck and pull off my backpack as I climb inside. I’m careful to avoid the few beer cans that remain scattered beside the door, the others have either been kicked across the parking lot by the dead, or the wind took them. I toss my bag into the passenger seat and then hold my breath and say a quick prayer, before I again try pressing the start button on the truck. The no key sign lights up the dash like it did last night and I want to cry.

  Anger courses through my veins as I get out of the truck, barely resisting the urge to slam the door. Why does everything have to be so damn hard? I know it’s the end of the world and there are zombies, but seriously, it’s been nothing but bad luck for a while now. You’d think eventually things would have to turn around, but they haven’t. I’ve lost everyone I love and here I have a truck filled with food and supplies, and the keys are missing. Silas never taught me how to hotwire a newer vehicle- it’s probably impossible.

  I angrily kick one of the beer cans and it disappears underneath the truck, followed almost instantly by the spine-chilling moan of a zombie. I turn quickly, and scan the parking lot, but I don’t see anything anywhere. The moan comes again, and I realize it’s coming from underneath the truck. I jump away like the truck is on fire. I come to a stop a few feet away and stare hard at the underbelly of the truck. I hastily put my gun away and pull my axe free of my pack- it’s not the hoard I was expecting when I got out of the truck, so I shouldn’t risk firing my gun and drawing attention.

  I almost turn and start walking away, but when a third moan comes, I slowly bend over to take a look. I tell myself sternly not to do it, but my own morbid curiosity has the better of me. I finally get low enough to see and I’m instantly horrified. I stand up quickly and turn away. That has to be the most horrible looking zombie I’ve ever seen in my life. He’s so chewed up, he’s barely even a zombie anymore. My stomach rolls a bit, but its empty, because I’m starving, so there is nothing to vomit up even if I was so inclined. I take a deep breath and start scanning the parking lot again, wondering what my next move should be… but there is something that nags me. There is something a little bit familiar about that bag of meat underneath the truck, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

  I’m not sure why it nags at me so much, but it does, until I know that I’ve got to take another look before I can completely dismiss whatever feeling this is. I steel my nerves and take another peek. The zombie has made it a little bit further than he was last time I looked, and I stare at him assessing. It’s the shirt I realize finally. I recognize that shirt.

  The dejavu doesn’t send me instantly into a panic, because I know already with a certainty that I’m not recognizing the shirt because it belonged to anyone in my group that is currently missing. It is, however, the same shirt that guy from the gas station was wearing last night, granted it’s a lot worse for wear today. That is the only recognizable feature he has left. His face has been chewed off, to the point its only bone and gristle, and only small patches of hair remain on his scalp, but from what I can see, it does look to be the same dark brown as the guy from last night.

  I stand up again and take a deep breath. I can’t help but feel a little bit responsible, even though my logical mind tells me that the guy did it to himself. The careless way they were acting, even before they knew I was in the gas station- it was probably only a matter of time before natural selection picked him off. Still, he was an idiot, but he used to be a human being.

  A human being with the keys. The idea bursts into my brain and I’m suddenly almost giddy with excitement. I know there is a chance some zombie miles away has the key fob inside its gut right now, but there is also a chance that its in this guys pocket.

  I take a step closer to the truck and get down on my knees, this guy is not moving very fast so I’m not in any danger. I wrinkle my nose up when
he lets out a pathetic moan and then I steel my nerves and make a slight chirping noise with my lips, like when you try and call over a puppy. This creature is the farthest thing from a puppy, but I try and imagine him that way instead so it’s not so horrific to look at.

  “Come on.” I murmur to him as I set my axe down on the pavement beside me and slap my hands against my thighs in encouragement. “You can do it.”

  Chapter Seven

  The zombie’s enthusiasm is not matched by his speed. I guess, in its defense, it really is just a torso at this point. It’s arms no more than chewed up stumps ending before the elbows, and nothing left of its legs at all, except the torn remnants of his blue jeans, trailing behind with ropes of intestine.

  The more of it to emerge from underneath the truck, the harder it gets to look at it. Finally, I lose patience with its snail-like pace and chop it in the back of the head with my axe, putting it out of its misery. I probably should have waited though, because now it’s up to me to drag the rest of its corpse all the way out.

  I stare down at the creature, its head and shoulders are really the only part visible, and there isn’t anywhere I can even grab that isn’t crusted in gore. I go back inside the truck and start searching for a pair of gloves. It is winter, even if this is Kentucky and much warmer than I’m used to, besides, what self-respecting person doesn’t carry a pair of gloves in the apocalypse? I have two pair in my bag, one is mine, and the other pair belongs to Silas, but I don’t want to gum them up if I don’t have to. I find what I’m looking for in the passenger side door, and nearly let out a shout of elation- but of course that would be extremely dumb.

  Back outside I scan the parking lot for any sign of danger, but so far, my luck is holding. Then I throw on the gloves and grab the zombie underneath its armpits and begin dragging. He’s surprisingly heavy for not being an entire whole of a person. I drag him a few inches before his stumps flip up and I lose my grip and land hard on my butt with the zombie practically in my lap. I resist the urge to scream in frustration and just general grossness and pull myself to my feet. This time I grab him by his shirt and pull, but one good tug and the shirt completely rips in half. It’s already in bad shape where the zombies chewed through it to get to the guys insides. I manage to stay on my feet this time, but my anger is building. I take off the gooey gloves and leave them on the ground next to the body before I start digging through Silas’ bag.

  I cut a length of rope off the coil he always keeps in there, and then put the gloves back on and tie one end tightly around the zombie’s neck. When that’s accomplished, I loop the rope around my gloved hand several times and start to pull. The crunching and popping of the zombie’s vertebrae makes my skin crawl, but I keep going and slowly he starts to emerge from beneath the truck-kind of like a butterfly coming out from its cocoon, but opposite and disgusting. I stop when I can see the pocket of his jeans.

  It’s a cool day but I’m sweating like crazy. I stare at him for a minute, nervous to even check, in case they aren’t there. I can see from the bumped-up fabric that there is something in there and after a moment of staring at it assessing, I reach with the gloves and try to find out what it is. The gloves won’t fit though, and now I have a dilemma. This zombie is head to toe covered in blood, some of it red, but most of it zombified black sludge, there is no way in hell I’m putting my bare hand into a zombie’s mystery pocket.

  I pull my knife from my hip as the idea hits me and slice his pocket open, careful not to stab the skin too much and create an even bigger mess. A black key fob falls out onto the ground, along with a bunch of loose change and I can’t help but grin as I snatch it up. I toss the gloves down beside the body and grab my pack as I head back towards the truck.

  This time when I open the door, it lets out a faint dinging sound that wasn’t there before, and when I toss my bag into the passenger seat and press start. The truck fires right up. I let out a laugh, but it almost instantly turns into tears of relief that I quickly wipe away as I put the truck into drive and peel out of the parking lot.

  I take a deep breath and push my stupid girly emotions to the side. First thing first, getting this truck and supplies was a huge win, but now I need to be smart and think like Silas. I’m basically driving along the main artery road leading into Louisville, it’s probably the worst thing I could be doing. I could be spotted, taken hostage and robbed of all my newly gained goods. I turn off on the first road that comes up. If the clock on the dash can be believed, its already a bit past noon. My first instinct is to drive right through the gates of Louisville and bust Silas free, but that isn’t something I could in reality pull off. I need to have some patience, pull over for the night, find somewhere to store all this stuff, and make a real plan.

  I drive for a little while longer until I come to an area along the road that is surrounded by trees. It’s pretty-well covered from view on all sides but directly north and south of me, so I pull over for a minute and pull the map out of Silas’s bag. I don’t want to just head off all willy-nilly and get myself lost. I find this road on the map and add a small star beside it, so I’ll be able to find my way back to the highway. I drive a little further, making a few random turns until the houses start getting more and more spaced out. Finally, I know I’ll just have to pick one. I tell myself sternly that I will pick the very next house I come across that has a garage.

  Probably sooner than my nerves would like, I come up to another house. I’m tempted to skip it and tell myself, the next house, but that could have me doing that all day and it’s a huge waste of fuel. I slow down as I approach the driveway, my eyes scanning the yard, not just for a sign of the dead, but for a sign of the living too. I want to avoid both whenever possible.

  The yard is overgrown and doesn’t seem like there has been any activity in months. The grass in the driveway is tall and even when I squint, it doesn’t look like any tire tracks have driven over it in a while. No smoke is visible around or coming from the house and there is an attached garage- everything on my checklist. I slowly pull into the driveway, still expecting a barrage of bullets to rain down at any minute, but nothing happens. I circle the yard before pulling up in front of the house. Nothing pops out and staggers towards the truck, which is a good sign. I didn’t sleep a wink all night and my energy is beginning to flag. I’m not sure how much I have left in me if there is going to be an onslaught of zombies, or a fight of any kind.

  I slowly get out of the truck and shut the door as quietly as possible, pulling my gun from my hip. I don’t want to mess around trying to use my knife when I’m only one person, and I don’t know what to expect on the other side of the door. I go up to the front door and test the door handle. It’s locked, of course. I knock on the door and wait to see what happens, but nobody living, or dead comes to answer.

  I don’t really want to smash a window and jeopardize the security of the house if I don’t have to, so instead I go around the corner and start walking around the side, testing every window as I find them, all locked, except for one that is probably too small for me to squeeze through. I turn another corner and come up to the back door. I test the handle, not feeling too hopeful, but it turns without resistance. I blink in surprise as I slowly take my hand off the door knob and knock instead. I don’t hear any mad scrabbling on the other side of the door, so I turn the knob again, this time opening it. I wait, bracing for something to come running out at me, but it doesn’t. I’m nervous to go inside, but I’m also not thrilled to stand out here in the open with a bunch of trees at my back, so that fact soon drives me inside to take my chances within four sturdy walls.

  I enter a linoleum tiled room with shelves lined up for boots and shoes. Its pretty tiny and its only a couple steps before I round the corner to a kitchen with the same floral linoleum pattern. It’s clean, and quiet and doesn’t look disturbed at all. I glance around at the woodgrain cabinets and wonder if there’s going to be any food inside, or if it’s already been cleaned out. This house is off the
beaten path, it might not have been scavenged yet. My stomach growls at the thought, but I ignore it for now. I’ve got to finish clearing the rest of the house before I can see to any comforts.

  The kitchen leads to a living room, and two bedrooms. I check the closets in each with my gun up and at the ready, but so far nothing scary pops out at me. I decide to skip the attached garage until the end and head upstairs instead. The smell hits me when I reach the top of the stairs and my stomach sinks- I knew this was too good to be true.

  My heart pounds as I take in the three closed doors. Part of me wishes I could just walk away and leave the doors shut, but if there are zombies in here, and something definitely smells dead, I don’t want them somehow getting out of this room while I’m sleeping and coming to feast on my flesh. I go up to the first room and knock gently, pressing my ear closer to hear if there’s any movement inside. I wait a couple minutes, but hear nothing, so I push the door open with more bravado than I feel and step back, gun up, and ready.

  Nothing rushes out at me and I slowly step into the room and do a quick once over. It’s a bedroom, by the looks of it, the master. It has a perfectly made bed, a closet with the door open, that I can see from here is empty. I slowly sniff the air, but the smell isn’t as strong in this room as it was in the hall.