Dead Meat Box Set [Days 1-3]

by Clausen, Nick

  “She married one of them,” Jennie says. “How sweet.”

  Dan flips through the pages. Pictures of the woman and her husband in this house. A picture of the woman with a large, pregnant belly. A family photo: the woman, her husband, and a half-black boy. The woman’s hair grows silvery, her skin starts to wrinkle, and her son becomes a man. Him kissing a redhaired woman. The last of the photos shows a small, mulatto girl, smiling between her mom and dad.

  As they reach the end of the album, the spell is broken, and Thomas gets to his feet. “Listen, I think I know how we can get out of here.”

  Jennie gives off a tiny exclamation of excitement, and Dan straightens up.

  “We can’t contact anyone outside. We can’t even hope for someone to come by. She lived alone out here, so it could be days before she has a visitor.”

  “I thought of the mailman,” Dan interjects. “Don’t they usually come on the weekends too?”

  “Maybe,” Thomas says. “But that wouldn’t make a difference. The mailbox is up by the road—I noticed it when we came. The mailman won’t come anywhere near the house.”

  Dan bows his head.

  Thomas nods towards the door. “It doesn’t seem like she … like it … is planning to give up anytime soon. Which means we need to find a way out ourselves, and the sooner, the better. If we just keep sitting here, we’ll lose strength. And Jennie’s arm …” He glances at her. “We need to get her to the hospital, so they can treat her.”

  He avoids Dan’s eyes, yet he can hear the lie in his own voice. If zombie movies taught him anything, it’s that once you get bitten or scratched, the show’s over. There is no vaccine, no cure, no nothing. The victim can only wait for fever, coma, death.

  And then: life once more.

  “Sounds fine with me,” Jennie says, sounding a bit more optimistic. “But how do we do it? As soon as we open the door, she’ll come barging in.”

  “That’s right, and I can’t think of a way to lure her away from the door. That’s why we need to let her in.”

  Dan lets out a gasp. “We can’t!”

  “There’s no other way. As far as I can tell, we have three options once we open the door. One: We can try and slip past her and get up the stairs. It’ll be difficult, though, since there’s three of us, and there isn’t a lot of room to move around. I think there’s a big risk not all three of us will make it out of here unharmed. Two: We can try and lure her into a trap. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. If we can make her trip or throw a blanket over her head—just confuse her for a few seconds, that might be all we need to get past her.”

  “That sounds dangerous,” Dan says. “We need to get pretty close to her if we’re going to trip her or throw something over her head.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m partial to the third option.” Thomas gets up and makes his way through the basement. Against the wall in the corner leans a piece of rusty iron pipe. Thomas grabs it and weighs it in his grasp. It feels heavy and cold and assuring. He looks at Jennie and Dan. “The third option is fighting our way past her.”

  Jennie raises her brow. “You’re not serious, are you? You want to hit her with that thing? That’s assault! And she’s old—what if you kill her?”

  “That’s the idea,” Thomas says dryly.

  Jennie stares at him in disbelief. “Are you insane?”

  “She’s already dead,” Dan reminds his sister. “Killing her again would actually be kind. Like, an act of mercy. That’s what they always say in the movies, anyway.”

  Jennie shakes her head. “You two need to get a grip. This is not a movie. And it’s not some crazy monster on the other side of that door. She might be sick or something, but she’s still just an old lady. Did you forget about the photos already? She has kids and grandkids and everything. We can’t just … kill her with a pipe!”

  “We can,” Thomas says, but he doesn’t feel quite as convinced as he sounds. Because it’s going to be him doing the killing. Jennie is obviously out of the picture—she couldn’t hit the floor if she fell down, especially not with her wounded arm. And Dan isn’t strong enough. Thomas grips the pipe firmer. He used to play rounders when he was little, and he’s confident he can put the zombie to rest with one good swing—providing he doesn’t miss.

  “You’ll only get one try,” Dan says darkly. “If you miss, she’ll get you instead.”

  “I might have time for two, maybe three tries,” Thomas says. “Look.” He swings the pipe swiftly. It’s heavier than he expects, and it slips out of his grip, whooshes through the air and hits the wall with a bang.

  Jennie screams. “Watch it! Are you out of your mind? You could have hit me!”

  On the other site of the door, the zombie scratches more eagerly, apparently sensing the commotion.

  Thomas picks up the pipe. His palms are reddish brown. “It was because of the rust,” he mutters. He gives it another go, more carefully this time. But he still has trouble swinging the pipe hard enough without losing his grip. It seems Dan is right. He’ll only get one shot.

  “I vote for the second option,” Jennie says. “One of you guys get behind the door with the blanket, and as soon as she enters, you throw it over her head and push her down. When she falls, we all make a run for it.”

  Thomas considers the idea. “What if one of us doesn’t make it out before she gets back up? Then that person would be seriously fucked.” He shakes his head. “No, I still think eliminating the threat is our best course of action.”

  “Eliminating the threat,” Jennie repeats. “Just listen to yourself, would you? You think you’re some kind of soldier? You couldn’t even swing that thing without dropping it.”

  “I told you, that was because of the rust. Now I’m prepared for it, it won’t happen again.”

  “And what if it does? Then we’re all fucked!”

  Thomas scoffs at her. He turns to Dan. “What do you think? We need a deciding vote.”

  Dan doesn’t answer; he seems to be studying the place where the pipe hit the wall. Then, he says: “I vote for a fourth solution.” He points, revealing a hole in the wall.

  Thomas comes closer. “What the hell? I thought it was a brick wall.”

  “No, it’s something much more smoldery. Plaster, I think. And it’s not very thick, either. There seems to be another room on the other side!”

  Thomas bends down and looks through the hole. It’s too dark to see anything, but an unpleasant smell seeps through.

  “Phew,” he says, pulling away. “Something stinks really bad in there.”

  “Who cares?” Jennie exclaims. “Just hurry up and break down that wall, will you?”

  Thomas pushes Dan aside, raises the iron pipe and starts swinging.

  FOUR

  The wall proves surprisingly easy to break down. For every swing of the pipe, large, crumbling pieces come off. Soon the air is filled with white dust.

  Thomas is panting and sweating, as he pulls back and swings, pulls back and swings. The putrid smell gets more and more poignant as the hole in the wall grows larger.

  Within five minutes he has made an opening wide enough for them to pass through. He puts aside the pipe and just stands there for a moment, heaving for breath and feeling faint from the heat.

  “Right,” Dan says, looking from Thomas to Jennie. “Who’s first?”

  “Let me just catch my breath,” Thomas says. “Then I’ll go.”

  Jennie gets up resolutely. “Sorry, but I’m getting out of here right now.” She manages two steps before she starts wobbling. It looks like her legs simply give way, and she stumbles into an old dresser.

  Dan jumps forward to catch her. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, sure,” she mumbles. “I just got a little dizzy, that’s all.”

  Dan helps her to sit back down. Thomas studies her face closely. Her cheeks have turned feverish red, the sweat is beading on her forehead. The skin on her wounded arm has turned alarmingly dark.

  It’
s going a lot faster than I thought, Thomas thinks, swallowing a lump tasting like drywall. Really hope we find a way out through the next room … or Dan and I will soon have a much bigger problem on our hands.

  He pushes the thought aside, turns to the hole in the wall. The stench is really bad now. He can also hear something buzzing in there. He holds his nose as he gets out his cell phone and activates the flashlight.

  The next room has no windows. It seems larger than the one they’re in right now, but that might only be because it’s not stuffed with junk. The only pieces of furniture are an oblong dining table in the corner and in the center something which reminds him of a small altar. It’s only knee-high and covered in a red tablecloth. Around the altar, in a circle on the floor, are six wooden stools all facing the center. As though someone recently held a small round table conference.

  “What’s in there?” Dan asks, coming closer. “Yuk, what’s that horrid smell?”

  “I don’t know, but look!” Thomas points the light into the corner. A wooden ladder leads to a hatch in the ceiling. Thin beams of daylight are streaming through the cracks.

  “It’s a way out!” Dan gasps.

  “What’s in there?” Jennie asks from behind them.

  Thomas steps in through the hole. He moves carefully along the wall until he reaches the ladder. He crawls up a few steps, so he can reach the hatch. He gives it a push, but it doesn’t give. He pushes harder and hears the clinging of metal.

  “Goddamnit. It’s locked from the other side.”

  Dan lets out a moan.

  Thomas steps back down and notices a switch on the wall. He flips it. A big lightbulb turns on reluctantly.

  A loud gasp from Dan makes Thomas turn around.

  So that’s where the smell is coming from …

  On each stool sits a small pile of furry mess. They are gutted animals: cats, rabbits, even a tiny dog. They have all been flayed and their skin nailed to the seats. The bared flesh is dark with rot, and an army of flies is buzzing around the feast. Blood has trickled down the legs of the stools and produced small puddles on the floor. Thomas looks around and notices strange symbols drawn on the walls with chalk. From the ceiling hangs a variety of objects in strings, such as large, black feathers, dried branches and thin bones.

  “Holy shit,” Dan whispers. “She’s made some sort of crazy ritual down here.”

  Thomas runs his forearm across his cheeks and realizes he’s sweating even more profusely now. The temperature is even higher in this room. The stench from the rotting animals has made its way into his sinuses—he can almost taste it.

  “We gotta get out of here,” Jennie says, as she steps tentatively through the wall. “We need to … we need …” Her voice trails off, as her eyes go blank. “Dan … would you please …? I’m a little … dizzy …”

  Dan tries to catch her, but this time she collapses, slipping through his arms and on to the floor, her eyes halfway open, her mouth still trying to speak.

  “Jennie? Jennie!” Dan calls out her name and shakes her gently, but he doesn’t get any comprehensive respond from Jennie, so he looks up at Thomas. “She’s fainted.”

  Thomas waves off a fly. “I could tell she was getting worse. I guess we’ll have to carry her when we—”

  A bump from upstairs.

  Both of them look up at the ceiling.

  “Was that her?” Dan whispers. “The zombie lady, I mean.”

  Thomas goes back to the hole in the wall, sticks his head through and listens for a moment. He can still hear the sound of scraping nails from the door. He turns to Dan. “It wasn’t her; she’s still by the door.”

  “The door …” Jennie mutters without opening her eyes.

  Another bump from above. The ceiling gives off a low creak.

  Thomas and Dan stare at each other.

  “Someone else is in the house,” Dan croaks.

  FIVE

  Thomas has been standing on the ladder with his ear pressed against the hatch for two minutes, when Dan no longer can take the silence.

  “Do you hear anything?” he whispers.

  Thomas steps back down onto the floor, shaking his head in mild confusion. “It doesn’t sound like a big person. The steps are very light. Perhaps it’s a child. But as far as I can tell, whoever is up there is just wandering about in circles.”

  Dan bites his lip. “Do you think it’s a zombie?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question, I guess,” Thomas says, shrugging.

  “Should we try and call out for them?”

  Thomas runs a hand through his hair, which is greasy from sweat and dust. “If it is a zombie, we don’t want to draw its attention.”

  “But if it’s a living person, they might be able to open the hatch and let us out.”

  “Zombie,” Jennie echoes in a faint mutter.

  Thomas darts a glance at her. Although he has come to more or less hate her over the last few months, it still pains him to see her like this. Dan has taken the blanket from the other room, rolled it up and put it under her head. Her wounded arm is resting on her stomach. The sweat is pouring from her face, the eyes are rolling around beneath the lids. Her legs twitch now and then.

  She’s going into a coma, Thomas thinks. Eventually, she’ll die. After that, it’s only a matter of time before she opens her eyes again. He shivers violently despite the stifling heat.

  “I think we should call out,” Dan says, licking the sweat from his upper lip. “If it is a zombie, we can’t get out that way anyway. It makes no difference whether it knows we’re here or not.”

  Thomas takes a deep breath. “You’re right. We might as well try.”

  “Call for him, Thomas!” Jennie exclaims suddenly. “Just call for him!”

  They both look at the sweating, fevered girl on the floor. It’s almost like she has been following the conversation, but it’s obvious to Thomas that she’s merely delirious.

  Dan starts sniveling.

  Thomas reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. “We can still get her to the hospital. As soon as we get out of here, we run straight to the car, and …”

  Dan looks up at him, tears in his eyes. “I know the rules, you know.”

  Thomas can’t think of anything else to say.

  Jennie twitches again.

  “Are we just supposed to … leave her?” Dan asks, blinking as a fly lands on his cheek. “If we get out of here, I mean.”

  “I think we might have to. For now, anyway. Once we get a hold of the police, they’ll have to come and get her.”

  “You think there’s still police?”

  “Why shouldn’t there be?”

  Dan shrugs. “Because the world is probably ending.”

  Thomas’s mouth glides open. The thought hasn’t even crossed his mind. What if Dan is right? What if this is the zombie apocalypse? Even if they make it out of here, they just might meet a world where everything is falling apart, where the zombies are rapidly taking over and where the remaining survivors are struggling to keep alive. His tongue suddenly feels way too big and sticky.

  What about Dad? Or Mom? Or Christian? Or all the guys from work? Are they walking around as zombies right now?

  “We’d better not think about that right now,” he manages to say, shoving aside the images. “First we need to focus on getting out of this fucking basement.”

  “All right, but …” Dan glances at his sister. “What if we can’t get the hatch open?”

  Thomas catches his drift. “Then we’ll have to tie her up.”

  Dan looks ill just thinking about it, but he nods bravely.

  Thomas goes to the ladder and looks up at the hatch. Then, he calls out: “Hello? Can you hear us up there?”

  They listen.

  Jennie mutters something.

  Thomas can hear the steps coming across the floor. They stop right above the hatch. A few seconds of dead silence follow.

  “We’re down here!” Thomas yells. “In the basement! Right
below you!”

  They listen again. Another second or two passes by in silence.

  Then, there’s the sounds of two muffled bumps. Thomas imagines how the person drops down on his knees. He prays that whoever is up there will answer him within the next second or two, or at least begin to work the lock.

  But it’s a completely different sound that comes from the hatch.

  The sound of scraping nails.

  Thomas feels his heart sink. He turns his head to look at Dan.

  The hopeful expression on Dan’s face slowly crumbles. “Oh, no,” he breathes. “It’s another zombie …”

  SIX

  Dan looks around. “What do you think happened here?”

  Thomas tries not to look at the gutted animals. “Something really fucked up.”

  “It almost looks like a sacrifice,” Dan goes on.

  Thomas shrugs. He has almost gotten used to the stench and the flies constantly landing on him by now. “Maybe she was a witch or something.”

  Dan approaches the table. It has a wide range of jars and pots, stones, crystals and wooden figurines. There’s a row of bird skulls and an old, thick book. Dan opens it and leafs through the pages.

  “What does it say?” Thomas asks.

  “I don’t know—it’s not written in Danish.”

  “Is it English?”

  “No, it’s not a language I’ve ever seen. But it has some pretty sick illustrations.”

  Thomas tries to say something, but starts coughing instead. “Christ, I could really use a glass of water right now. My throat is dry as sand.”

  “Check this out,” Dan mutters, still leafing through the book. “I think she used this when she did the ritual.”

  Thomas goes to see. Dan stops at a page with a single, large drawing which resembles the lineup in the room. A lot of incomprehensible words are written around the illustration.

  “What do you think was the point of the ritual?” Dan asks.