10 Minutes From Home | Book 1 | 10 Minutes From Home

by Howard, Bill

  “Okay, here we go." Clive warned.

  Clive pressed the long flat side of the scorching knife blade against the cleaned wound. There was a brief, audible sizzle as it burned the flesh, quickly drowned out quickly by Thom’s agonizing scream. Max howled with him, either feeling his pain or just joining in, which one it was hard to tell. Isabel started going crazy, banging her hands on the wooden door into the kitchen every time Thom screamed. Clive moved the knife blade two more times over the wound until the entire surface had been burned and the wound was sealed. Smoke rose from Thom’s neck and the horrible stench of burning flesh filled our nostrils. Thom stopped yelling and had gone limp in the chair, passed out. Clive and I lifted him up and moved him to the couch in the living room. Clive dressed the wound and we covered him up, letting him rest after his ordeal. Max and Isabel both calmed down once Thom was out.

  The remaining bunch of us huddled back into the kitchen for an impromptu meeting. For a short while, we just sat in silence. Stephen had found a bottle of Crown Royal and was pouring each of us a glass, walking slowly around the table behind us like a waiter, his hands shaking but still managing to get the whiskey into the glasses. After he was finished pouring, Stephen took his place at the table and we all downed our drinks. Ellie was the first to speak.

  “So, do we know what happens now? Do we know how long it takes, or if it will even happen to him?”

  No one at the table had an answer. This was new to all of us; we didn’t have the experience or knowledge of this new phenomenon to know what we had to do.

  “There’s no way to know how to handle this,” I said. “We just have to play this one out and see what happens. But we have to be prepared for any possible outcome. ”

  With that, dramatically, I laid my handgun on the table. Thom was my best friend. The last thing I want to do was shoot him, but if that was what I had to do to save him, I would. We then moved forward and devised our plan from this point. We would get some rest, taking turns watching over Thom and the house. In the morning, assuming Thom was better, we would head back out. If Thom was not up to it, we would determine at that time who would stay and watch him until he either got better, help came, or the other eventuality that we didn’t care to discuss right then. We would also leave Isabel where she was for now, as we didn’t know how Thom would react if we got rid of her. She didn’t pose a threat as long as she was contained.

  Stephen volunteered to take the first watch, sitting in a large armchair across from Thom with a Colt Government Model 45 tensely laid in his palm. The remainder of us split up into separate rooms around the house and tried to get some rest.

  I laid in Thom’s bed staring at the ceiling. I thought about my life up to this point and the relationship I had with Thom. I thought about Nicole and Sam, about how happy they had made Thom and how devastated he had been after the accident. It wasn’t fair that someone should go through trauma like that and have to end up where Thom was now. Life was assuredly a bitch; there was no doubt about that. My thoughts then turned to Diane and Jordan. It felt like I hadn’t seen them in years. I wondered what they were doing right now. Were they sleeping? Were they safe? Was Jordan scared? It tore my heart apart that I didn’t know the answers. My eyelids grew heavy while their images still lingered in my mind. The air was humid, the room dark. I could feel the air pressing against me as I drifted off, the strong smell of dirt and grass in my nose from the open window. I was walking down a street I remembered from my childhood. My parents and I lived on a quiet family street during my pre-teen years. As I walked, I could still smell the dirt and grass. I could hear kids playing in the neighborhood, cars on adjacent streets, parents yelling at their kids somewhere in the distance. As I got to the end of the street, I came to an abandoned lot with an old building that used to be a school many years before. It was old enough that it was gender separated, a stone brick with ‘Boys’ over one door, and on the opposite side of the building, an identical door with ‘Girls’ over it. The lot was concrete and overgrown, weeds as tall as I was breaking through the man-made earth and having their way with the property. The windows and doors on the ground level were all boarded up, but the ones on the second and third floors were not. Most of the glass in these windows had been shattered by rocks, thrown by boys who had the inexplicable desire to see something break. Above the third floor was presumably some sort of attic or storage area. On either side of the building there was a small roof peak with a window below it, these ones still intact thanks to their height. As I walked past the lot, I always debated with myself as to whether or not to look at these attic windows. Something about the windows told me not to, when I had looked at them in the past; something about them terrified me. I could never place why. It was almost as if I could hear some child left behind in that attic years before, calling out for someone to help him, to get him out. This time as I walked by, I stopped. I hadn’t looked yet, but something was calling to me, something was pulling me to the window. I decided I was a big boy, that I could handle a stupid window. I turned towards the old school with my eyes closed and angled my head to where I knew that window was. I stood there for a second, my eyes closed; double-checking with myself that this was what I wanted to do. I opened my eyes and looked at the window. It was dark and empty. At first, I didn’t even get the creepy feeling. I was victorious; I had triumphed over the window. But just then the feeling started to crawl up my back. When it reached my neck, I shut my eyes tight. I stood there for a moment in a cold sweat and turned away from the school. After catching my breath, I opened my eyes again. I was looking down from somewhere high, disoriented as to why I was not standing on the sidewalk anymore. I could see a small boy standing by a chain link fence on a sidewalk, his back to me, just standing there, alone. I was looking at him through an old window that warped my view of him, made it rippled like I was looking through water. I looked around below me and recognized it as the abandoned schoolyard. That would mean that I was . . . no. I couldn’t be. I turned slowly on my heels, my body cold yet feverish, my hair damp on my forehead. As I turned in the room, I looked at the walls; they were old, dusty, covered in cobwebs. Once I’m fully turned around, I bring my eyes up and look into the room. It is dark, but the light through the two peaked windows provides enough illumination for me to make out a girl just slightly smaller than myself. She is crouched on the floor just off to the side of the opposite window. Her back is to me and she seems to be weeping, her shoulders shuddering. I step closer and ask if she is okay, but I get no response. There is nothing else in the attic, just the girl and me. I am standing right behind her now and I place my hand on her shoulder; I can feel it shaking. Her head starts to turn towards me. It is Jordan. She has been crying. She opens her mouth and starts to form a word.

  “Daddy.”

  The word is followed immediately by a voluminous flow of blood pouring out of her mouth; her words drown in it. Her eyebrows furrow and her eyes darken. She repeats the word through the gurgle of blood being forced up her throat.

  “DADDY.”

  The knock at the door was soft, but jolted me up in bed as if a plane had crashed into the roof. I was soaked in sweat and my mouth was so dry I could barely open it. I looked to the door just as Ellie was peeking in.

  “Oh my god, Denny, are you okay?”

  Ellie rushed in and sat on the end of the mattress, laying one hand on my shoulder and looking into my eyes. Her hand was warm, almost burning into my shoulder.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It was just a nightmare. A really weird nightmare.”

  “Can I get you anything? Let me get you some water.”

  She got up and went into the en suite, the sound of the tap water running into a glass was almost deafening in the silence of the house. She returned and I drank the water fast, my mouth finally returning to its natural state.

  “Thanks." I managed. “What are you doing, did something happen?”

  “No, I just couldn’t sleep, I wanted to see if you were the same. I gu
ess not. Is it okay if I hang out? I really am not comfortable here. I can’t stop thinking about the kids.”

  “Yeah, of course. I’m pretty sure I’m done with sleeping for tonight.”

  We sat together on the bed in silence. Ellie eventually dozed off against me and I held her there, hoping that at least one of us could get some rest without being tormented by nightmares.

  Laying there with Ellie made me miss Diane even more. It seemed like I might never get home, never see Diane and Jordan again. I shook off the thoughts and tried to focus, get back to the goal in mind. I realized as I was laying there with Ellie in my arms, and with Thom and everyone else downstairs, that I probably wouldn’t have even made it this far if it wasn’t for them. My thoughts of the hopelessness of the situation would have eaten me up a long time ago if it wasn’t for them. I was thankful for everyone here. I leaned my head back against the headboard and closed my eyes. For the rest of that night I did not dream.

  CHAPTER 33:

  TOOLS OF THE TRADE

  The next morning felt like any other morning in my life, pre-infection. I was in a familiar room with a woman lying beside me with her arm over my chest. The sunlight through the window was warm on my face. It felt like home and I was thankful for it, even if it was fleeting. A bang from downstairs woke me out of the haze and reality bled back into my consciousness. The feeling of heavy dread that had been on my shoulders for the past few days returned instantly as Ellie and I bolted up at the same time. Max lay still at our feet, not even twitching at the noise. We got out of the bed and I hastily pulled my t-shirt back over my head as Ellie ran to the door to look into the hallway. Ellie was only wearing a t-shirt and underwear; I hadn’t noticed that the night before. She peered into the hallway, then gave me the all clear. Max's curiosity finally won out over his desire to sleep and he slid off the bed and joined Ellie at the door. I opened Thom’s dresser drawer and threw Ellie a pair of jeans, which she caught in mid-air, then smiled and thanked me for. I walked over to the door as she pulled the jeans on, handed her one of the guns I had picked up off the night tables, and we made our way downstairs with Max in tow.

  Clive was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs holding a shotgun. He looked up at Ellie and me as we came down behind him, a worrisome look on his face.

  “Clive, what’s going on, what was that noise?”

  “Some infected showed up outside the house. Just one at first, banging on the windows, but then more came.”

  Stephen chimed in.

  “We did a check all around the house, looks like about fifteen out there now, mostly around the front and back doors.”

  Ellie stayed on the stairs as I made my way around Clive and into the living room. Thom was sitting up on the couch looking a little dazed. I went to the living room window, which had a large dining room table pushed up against it since the night before. I peered past the end of the table and out the window to the front lawn. Sure enough, there seemed to be quite a few infected wandering around. Some were right up at the window, just standing there, some were wandering in circles on the lawn, and a few were right at the door. From my vantage point it didn’t look like there were any more of them in the neighborhood, the other lawns were empty. This small concentration of infected was strange indeed. I turned back to the living room, where Ellie and Clive had joined Stephen and Thom. Max sat in front of the couch by Ellie, he looked tense and his head snapped in different directions every time a noise came from outside the house. Stephen was starting to panic a bit, but everyone was on edge.

  I took the floor in front of our ragtag group.

  “Okay, if we are going to get out of here, we have to go now. If any more of those things show up, we could be screwed. Thom, are you okay with this, are you up to leaving right now?”

  Thom nodded slowly.

  “Yeah, I’m good. But Isabel’s coming too.”

  Everyone in the room paused, holding their breath. Thom continued.

  “If we bring her, we might be able to find her some help. We don’t know what is going on, maybe they are starting to figure this thing out, maybe they’re working on a vaccine, a cure.”

  Nobody said anything and I am sure we were all thinking the same thing. But now wasn’t the time for confrontation, we had to leave.

  “Alright Thom. We bring Isabel.”

  I could feel the looks from around the room yet no one said anything in retort. It was settled.

  We all ran around the house and gathered up supplies. We assigned each person to specific tasks. Stephen was to gather food from the kitchen; Clive was to pack essential clothing for everyone. Ellie was on medical duty, getting all the essential first aid materials, and I was on weapons detail, making sure all weapons were working and had ammo stocked up, with extra packed away. Thom didn’t have to do anything due to his weakened condition, but I saw him gathering some personal items from the house. He took the small 5x7 photo of himself with Nicole and Sam, and some other random items that didn’t make much sense to me, but I am sure had significance to him. All in all, he had barely a pockets worth, but it seemed to be all he needed. After he got his things together, he just stood at the door to the mudroom and stared at Isabel, not particularly with sadness or fondness or anything really, just stared.

  After taking ten minutes to gather supplies, we regrouped in the foyer at the front door, but Thom hadn’t rejoined us yet. Clive whispered a concern to me about Thom’s condition and the fact that he wanted to bring Isabel along, but I assured him that if Thom said he was okay, he was okay. I would take full responsibility for him and Isabel. Clive silently accepted this, and we waited for Thom to join us. I could tell Clive was still unsure about the whole situation, and I can't say I blamed him. I was about to try to explain myself further when Thom reappeared from the basement door; he was carrying a small red chainsaw.

  “I keep my expensive stuff in the basement” he stated plainly, “I don’t trust neighborhood punks when it comes to detached garages. I’ll clear the way, but someone has to bring Isabel for me.”

  Thom looked directly at me as he said this. I gave him a stern nod and Thom walked right through us to the front door; we parted around the chainsaw blade as if it was a pilgrimage of Israelites and we were the red sea. Thom grasped the pull cord of the chainsaw tightly and gave it a strong yank. The motor roared to life deafeningly. We all cringed from the burst of noise, wanting to cover our ears, but hands full of weapons and supplies not permitting it. Thom reached out with his other hand and flung the front door open revealing one of the infected standing dead center, one hand raised almost as if it were about to knock. Thom drove the chainsaw forward, the rounded end of the rotating chain tearing into the things torso. It barely reacted at first, just looked down at the machine carving a tunnel through its innards. You could almost hear its teeth rattling over the sound of the chainsaw as its body vibrated at an alarming rate. Needless to say, none of us had ever had a need to witness what a chainsaw can do to a human body, but there it was in all its crimson glory. Bits and chunks flew through the air, giving the front of the house a new paint job, and thoroughly soaking Thom’s front. Once the chain had eaten through and was starting to come out of the things back, Thom pushed down on the machine, driving the grinding chains quite easily through the intestines and then exiting between the its legs. Its insides emptied out like a bucket of fish, spilling out onto Thom’s front porch. The things stance changed and its feet tried to walk forward, hands reaching for Thom, but as it did, its legs just splayed to either side, dropping its body to the floor in a bizarre rendition of the splits. Once it was down, it looked up at Thom just in time for him to swing the chainsaw on its side like a sword, severing its head from its neck in one swift arc.

  There were more of them behind the first one, and after a slack-jawed moment had by all of us; we joined Thom on the porch as he cut into the next one. Clive stepped out of the door first, his shotgun bellowing its load into the faces of two infected, instantly dro
pping them to the lawn. Stephen and I were next out and we opened fire with our pistols on the next wave of creatures. My shots found their home in the body and head of an overweight older woman that still had bits of something or someone hanging out of her mouth in a long sinewy strand. She toppled over and I continued to fire into the next one. Ellie came out last, her rifle taking aim at the infected on the farthest reaches of the lawn. They dropped in quick succession, clearing the end of the driveway for us to make our way into the street and across to the wooded ravine. Max leapt into action as soon as Ellie gave him the go ahead and ran into the yard, tearing at anything that was still standing. Thom continued to make shredded meat of anything that got close enough for him to do so. He looked like that character Ash from the Evil Dead movies, covered in thick gore and blood. Come to think of it, he had the same kind of crazed look on his face as well. After a few more minutes and a couple dozen more shots fired, the front lawn was littered with the bodies of infected, some with barely noticeable wounds, others looking like large piles of ground chuck. Max was going corpse to corpse, sniffing them. We took off across the street, and when we got to the edge of the ravine, Thom switched off the chainsaw. He looked at me, and, for the first time since the day of the outbreak, he genuinely smiled at me, his white teeth and the whites of his eyes shining through his glistening red face. He looked like a walking nightmare. Albeit a happy one.

  "Go get Isabel now Denny," he ordered, but not harshly.

  We could hear the moans of other infected in the area, I assumed they were around the back of the house still, and suggested everyone get out of here before they found their way to the front. I ran back through the house and to the mudroom. I grabbed the control pole from beside the door and looked through the glass at Isabel. She was standing with her back to me, her hands against the outside windows. On the other side of the glass were at least half a dozen infected, all with their hands against the glass in a similar manner. I opened the door slowly, but there was no reaction from Isabel. I reached out with the pole and lowered the noose on the end of it over her head, snapping it tight around her neck as soon as I could. Isabel jumped and spun around when I tightened the rope, but did not attack me. She seemed a little pissed to be back in the noose, but was relatively calm, all things considered. I ran through the house again steering Isabel in front of me and we busted through the front door and moved down the hill into the ravine. We jogged through the thick woods for a while until we caught up with the others, who were covering Thom as he washed up at the creek bed. Clive handed him some of the spare clothes he had packed and Thom changed quickly, slung the chainsaw through some straps on his backpack, and walked over to Isabel and me. He reached over immediately and took the pole from my hands, checking everything and making sure Isabel was okay.