A few weeks ago, he had to defend himself against one of the walking corpses. Kill or be killed. The putrid being had come into his church as he was meditating. Had he been somewhere other than his office, he might not have survived. Thankfully, he was able to tip one of his bookshelves onto the vile creature as it reached for him. The heavy shelf had pinned it to the floor. It didn't stop there, though. The individual continued to claw and hiss at him, trying to pull its way from beneath the shelf.
He stopped thinking of it as a person, one that might have gone insane, when it raised its head to look at him. Its eyes were glazed and almost completely white, except for the tiny blood vessels that made the pupils nearly invisible. It opened its mouth, a thick mixture of blood and drool dangled from the corners and ran down its chin, hissing and snapping its jaws at him.
It was at that moment that he noticed the stench of decay on its breath. Brian knew he had to do something more, or this vile shell of a person would keep coming for him. He frantically looked around his office for something to use. After a moment, his eyes settled on the wooden crucifix mounted to the wall behind his desk. He quickly darted around to where it hung and snatched it from the hook that held it in place.
As he rounded the corner of his desk, the zombie lunged for him, wrapping one of its bony hands tightly around his ankle. It began to pull his leg toward its mouth with unnatural strength, snapping its jaws like a rabid animal. With only moments to spare, Brian swung the crucifix as if he were teeing off at the golf course. The short end of the cross connected moments later, perforating the side of the zombie's skull. Gore splattered outward from the wound, coating his hand with blood and brain matter. Immediately, the grip on his leg loosened and the zombie's head slumped to the floor, unmoving.
Brian shook his head to clear the awful memories. After that incident, his faith had been shaken to the core. He had gone to the local library in his hometown of Angola, Indiana, in hopes of finding something to strengthen his beliefs. Unfortunately, the library was small, its resources inadequate. That was when he decided to head east, hoping to find answers in a larger city. He hoped that a larger library, like the one he currently occupied in Toledo, would have a better selection of reference materials.
He had been camped out inside this building for about a week now, perusing every article and book he could get his hands on that dealt with faith and religion. Unfortunately, none of the material he found regarding his lifelong religion brought any clarity to how he felt. There were, however, some books about shamanism that aroused his curiosity.
Earlier in life, he had felt that such practices were nothing more than a glorified, more pure, version of voodoo or witchcraft. After reading books on the subject for the better part of two days, he was beginning to see the possible validity. He wondered if he would make a good shaman. Many of the principles seemed loosely like any other religion, minus the glaring, obvious difference. Shamans did not believe there to be only one God, but many.
Brian pushed his glasses up from the end of his nose as he pulled another stack of books toward him. He was determined to find out more, resolving to study the subject until there was nothing left to read on the topic. As long as he kept his ears tuned to his surroundings, he should have plenty of warning if trouble found his hiding place.
Chapter 9
His glasses pressed painfully against the bridge of his nose, waking Brian. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but fatigue had finally taken its toll and caused him to doze off. He raised his head from the book he had been reading, and apparently using as a pillow. A rather large spot of drool dampened the open page of the book, causing the words to blur together. He removed his glasses, set them aside, and rubbed his face vigorously.
How long had he been asleep? Had any of the "locals" wandered inside the library? He stood up and walked quietly to the balcony that overlooked the main floor. Scanning the area slowly, he listened carefully for any sound that would alert him to something he couldn't see.
After carefully observing the lower level for a couple of minutes and discovering nothing out of the ordinary, he turned away from the balcony and let out a sigh of relief. Returning to the table he had been using, he sat down.
How much longer would this place be a safe haven? In theory, he had nothing to defend himself with if the walking dead happened to come inside and find him. It wasn't like being back in his office at the church. There was no way he would be able to muster enough strength to topple the massive bookshelves here as he'd done in his office. More than likely, these shelves were bolted to the floor to prevent accidental tipping. There weren't any crucifixes on the walls here either. Most likely, the only lethal thing in this place was a ballpoint pen.
Then he realized something. He could possibly smash some of the wooden chairs, potentially yielding a few pieces of jagged, sharp wood that he could use if he got desperate. Even though it sounded like a feasible plan of defense, he had a strong sense that he should get on the road again. It was like a compulsion. Something inside telling him to go north.
At the same time, part of him felt that he should stay in Toledo. He could feel the evil growing, like an oppressive, invisible weight, threatening to consume everything in its path. Why did he feel that this evil was coming here? Was it supposed to be a test of his faith? If so, it wouldn't be much of a test. He lost what little he had of his faith back in Angola at the church.
Even so, Brian began to place all of the books he had found, and deemed to be worth further study, into his backpack with everything else he needed to survive. As an afterthought, he picked up the chair he'd been sitting in, raised it high above his head, and brought it down onto the table before him with every bit of force he could muster. With a resounding crash, the chair splintered into pieces. Only a couple of broken legs looked to be usable, and he picked them out of the debris. He crammed them into the outer pockets of the backpack to keep them as accessible as he could.
Brian grabbed his coat and gloves from the floor, putting them on before picking up his pack. With the added weight of the books, it now weighed about fifty pounds. He hoped it wouldn't feel so cumbersome once it was on his back. After hefting it into place and adjusting the straps, he reached back to make sure he could get to the broken chair legs if he needed to. It was difficult to do because his thick coat restricted his movement, but at least he could reach them.
He went downstairs to the main floor of the library and gazed toward the entrance. Through the glass doors he could see nothing except a few scraps of paper blowing by. Apparently the wind had picked up. He pulled the strings on his hood, drawing it closer to his face, and tied them beneath his chin.
Opening the door cautiously, he looked in both directions. The morning sun was blocked by the taller buildings, but reflected enough light from their windows that he could see the coast was clear.
Chapter 10
It was growing dark as the sun began to set. They had walked south on Interstate 75 all day with no breaks, seeing not even a single sign of life. To either side of the highway they could see houses and businesses cluttering the streets of St. Ignace, the city they had just entered a few minutes ago. Ahead loomed the Mackinac Bridge, which would lead them into the lower part of Michigan.
"Are we gonna keep going, or stop for the night?" Katie asked, breaking the silence.
"I vote for stopping," Melissa replied, thankful that Katie brought it up. She had thought about asking the same question, but didn't want the rest of the group to think she was whining again. In truth, her feet were killing her. She wasn't used to all this walking, and the work boots she was wearing didn't really fit properly.
Edward sighed. "We should probably stop. Especially since we don't have Amber around to light our way."
"I know what you mean. You never know just how much you miss someone until they aren't there anymore," Katie added, sadly.
Edward stopped near the edge of the highway for a moment, scanning for a suitable place to spend the nigh
t. From his vantage point, he could see that most of the houses were in similar condition to those in Dafter. There did seem to be one or two nearby that were mostly intact. "How about one of those?" he asked, pointing down the street that stretched away from the exit ramp for Graham Avenue.
"Looks perfectly acceptable to me," Melissa replied. "My feet are really sore. I wouldn't be surprised in the least if I found blisters all over them when I get these boots off."
Hearing Melissa's response, Katie gazed toward Julie. Her friend had been strangely silent almost the entire time since their reunion, which was not normal. She should have been a regular chatterbox after being reunited. At the very least, she should have been the first one to complain about her feet hurting as she was not used to all the walking that the rest of them endured on a daily basis. "What about you, Julie?" Katie asked, curiously.
She shrugged her shoulders. "I could go a while longer, but if you want to stop that's fine, too," she answered with a smile.
Katie's brows furrowed as she turned back to Edward. Something didn't seem right with Julie, but she couldn't place what the problem was. Edward seemed to notice the look on her face, but kept his mouth closed.
It seemed like everyone had agreed to stopping for the night, so Melissa began making her way down the exit ramp. Moments later, the rest of the group followed after her.
When she got to the end of the ramp, Melissa veered off to the right. As she continued down the sidewalk, she caught sight of a single level, ranch-style house that looked more intact than the others surrounding it. Only a small section in the back seemed to be missing. She left the sidewalk and made her way to the front of the house.
When she got to the door, Melissa put her ear to it. After listening for a minute and not hearing any movement from within, she turned to face the rest of the group. "I think it should be safe," she announced.
She stepped aside as Edward approached the doorway. Turning the knob slowly, he pushed gently inward on the door as the latch came free from the doorjamb. It creaked loudly, as if it hadn't been used in a very long time.
Stale, burnt-smelling air wafted out of the house. He took a cautious step inside. The front room was barren, completely devoid of furniture. There was a large hearth directly across from the door, and a hallway to his left that led deeper into the home. He motioned for the others to come inside.
Jack was the last to enter. He closed the door behind himself as the rest of the group gathered in the center of the room. Melissa sat down on the floor, took off her boots, and began to gently rub her feet as she inspected them for blisters. "If we're going to spend the night here, we should check the rest of the building for anything we can use," Jack suggested.
"As empty as this room is, I don't imagine we will find much," Edward said. "We should try to stay in groups like we did in the other town." He looked down at Melissa and realized that it would be better for her to stay off of her feet, hoping that they would feel better tomorrow. "Will someone stay here with Melissa while the rest of us search the house?"
"I will," Julie answered.
Katie looked at her in astonishment. What had happened to her back on Desolace when she was held captive? Julie hadn't been acting like her normal, bubbly self ever since they had found her. Before all the weirdness of portals and alternate dimensions had entered their lives, the two of them had been inseparable. What had she endured during their time apart that had changed her so much? Shouldn't the fact that she'd been reunited with her best friend bring out the Julie that she knew?
"You coming, Katie?" Jack asked.
She shook her head, trying to clear her worried thoughts, and looked up at him. "Yeah, sorry," she replied, giving him a weak smile.
Edward turned and led the way down the hall. It was considerably darker in the hallway than it was in the front room, so Edward produced a sputtering flame in the palm of his hand to give them a little more light.
There were two closed doors on the left side of the hallway; one was a few feet from them, and the other was near the end of the hall. On the right side there was only one door, about halfway up the hall.
Edward approached the first one on the left and reached for the knob. He looked back to see if Jack and Katie were ready. They nodded, indicating that they were. Edward turned the knob and pushed the door open slowly. Dim light filtered through the only window in the room, which was covered in soot and grime. Jack remained in the doorway, while Edward and Katie inspected the room.
A charred dresser, which looked like it would fall into a pile of ashes if they even breathed on it, stood against one wall. Against another wall was what looked to be the remains of a bed. Crumbles of burned wood lay scattered about on the floor, near what was likely at one time a box spring mattress. The metal was twisted awkwardly, as if someone had put it against the wall and tried to use it as a ladder to get to the window, which was high on the wall near the ceiling.
Crumpled in the corner between the dresser and the box spring was what appeared to be a comforter. Katie bent down and picked it up from the floor. As she unfolded it and held it up, Katie saw how useless it would be. The comforter had definitely seen better days. It was almost completely threadbare and had large holes in it, as if a rat had used it for a nest. She threw it back on the ground in disgust.
Edward found another closed door in the room and motioned for Katie to check it. Her first assumption was that it was a closet. She turned the knob and pulled the door open, hoping to find something more useful inside. Her shoulders sank. Nothing.
Jack stepped to the side, allowing the two of them to reenter the hall. As they did, Edward pointed toward the door on the opposite side. As they neared it, Edward looked back at them, confusion written all over his face.
"What?" Katie mouthed, raising her eyebrows.
Edward made a motion like he was turning a knob. Recognition registered on Katie's face and she had to stifle a laugh. She walked over to the door and pushed on it with one hand. It creaked slightly as it swung open. He gave her a look that said, "duh!" and mimicked smacking himself in the head.
Katie entered the room first, which was much better lit than the last room. She was greeted by dust covered countertops with gaping holes in them where the appliances must have at one time stood. Cabinets hung crookedly upon the walls above the counter. As she stepped further into the room and saw a broken table lying on its side, she surmised that the far corner had at one time been a dining room. The walls and roof around that section of the room were gone, almost as if a wrecking ball had hit the side of the house and swept it away. Edward followed Katie into the room, while Jack stood like a sentinel in the doorway again.
Edward and Katie began to search the cupboards. Much like the last house, their efforts met largely with disappointment. There was, however, a tiny glimmer of hope when Katie opened a sliding panel that led into a small pantry. There, sitting on the floor like a gift from the gods, was an unopened 24-pack of bottled water. Upon her discovery, Katie gasped in surprise. "Oh my God! Look, Edward!" she said excitedly, lifting it from the floor.
A huge smile played across his lips. "Finally! Something worthwhile."
Katie went to the door and handed the package to Jack. "Can you take that to the front room while we finish searching this one, please?"
"I sure will," he replied, immediately turning to take the water into the other room.
As the door swung shut, Edward and Katie finished going through the rest of the cupboards. "At least we found the water," Katie said, when they were done checking the remaining cabinets. She tried her best to sound hopeful, even though she was disappointed it was the only thing they'd found.
"True. One room to go," he said as they exited the kitchen into the hallway. Katie smiled as she heard a cheer erupt from the front of the house when Jack entered the room with the water.
"Should we wait for Jack to come back before we look in the last room?" Katie asked.
Edward smiled. "I think we can han
dle it without him."
"I'm sure you're right. Likely, it's just a bathroom anyway."
"Bathroom?"
Katie laughed. "Oh. I forgot. You probably don't have those where you come from. It's like an indoor outhouse."
"That doesn't seem very sanitary," he remarked.
"Probably not right now, but when there was still running water available it would have been much better than any outhouse," Katie said with a smirk.
Edward turned the knob and pushed the door open. Immediately, the foul scent of death and decay assaulted their nostrils. Katie clamped a hand over her nose and mouth as she turned her head and gagged. After regaining her composure, she stepped into the room, looking for the source of the stench. She half expected to see a dead animal floating in the toilet, but when she looked the only thing she saw was an empty porcelain bowl.
"Where is that smell coming from? Under the house?" Katie asked, her voice muffled by her hand. She had no more finished her question when she saw Edward approaching the shower curtain, which was drawn around the bathtub. Suddenly, several images of different horror movies ran through her mind. There was almost always a killer hiding behind the curtain. "Edward! No!" she yelled as he slowly drew the curtain back.
Lying in a pool of shallow water in the tub was the desiccated corpse of a woman. Why was she there? Seeing the body, Katie finally realized the awful impact of the virus she had read about in the newspaper back in the grocery store. Did this woman think she could wash the virus away? She had obviously been scrubbing herself when she died. A grimy washcloth was still clutched in her hand, bits of rotten flesh floating beside her in the water. Patches of skin were missing from her arms, legs, torso, and face, exposing the muscles underneath.
The two of them quickly turned to leave the room. Edward was entering the doorway, with Katie on his heels, when the sound of splashing water came from behind them. Katie turned back in alarm to see the corpse standing in the tub. Her scream was so loud that someone could likely have heard it a mile away.
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