by Giacomi, A.
I hear something rustling around inside, and then I see a pair of eyes through the crack, which startles me. “Cam? Get me out of here…please.” Her voice shakes as she says this. Whatever lay in that bin can’t be pleasant.
I look around for something to break the lock with, and I find an axe stuck in a tree trunk. I run over to retrieve it, and then I hear more moaning. They are coming for the stupid red stone. I take it out of my pocket and try to think of where to dump it. As I get lost in my thoughts, Eve appears around the corner, looking a bit disheveled but more like her old self. It feels like some terrible joke or trap, but when she walks over to me this time, I embrace her with sobs. I feel her arms hold me back, and something about this moment brings me home.
She doesn’t speak to me. Instead, she breaks the embrace and holds out her hand.
“The stone?” I say, and she nods.
I place the glowing red rock in her hands, and she closes her fingers around it tightly, almost as if she wants to prevent its escape. She kisses my forehead and then turns to leave with the rock clutched tightly in her hand. I can tell she has a plan, but I have no idea what exactly it is.
Before I can follow and find out, I have other important business to attend to, such as Alex in a trash bin full of God knows what. I raise the axe into the air and slam it down onto the lock, snapping it in half and shooting the metal pieces sideways. Alex pushes the lid open rapidly and hops out of another bin of intestines and other miscellaneous body parts.
Alex turns her back to me and heaves until she removes everything from her stomach. If there is ever a reason to vomit, this is it. I close the lid to cover up the stench and grotesque visual.
“Alex, I think we found the bikers. Guess the zombies got to them first. But I don’t think zombies tidy up their kill, or do they?”
Alex wipes her mouth on her sleeve and says, “No…CSIS…” through panting breaths. “They’re here…they’re going to cover everything up again…like last time.”
She gives me a worried look, and I remember the last time CSIS covered things up. They burned down a good portion of Guelph University; some of it is still under repair.
“Oh God, Al, you don’t think they’re going to burn down Little Lake?”
She shrugs, making my blood pressure rise. If those assholes think they are going to burn down my town, they have another thing coming. “Al, we need to go after Eve. She took the rock. I think she has a plan.”
Alex and I quickly flee the human carcass dumping grounds in search of a vehicle. Neither of us knows how to ride a motorcycle, so we opt to look inside the cars. Luckily, there is a Jeep parked out front of the bar with keys still in the ignition.
As I start the vehicle, I notice that the front doors to the bar are wide open, and Agent Williams is no longer lying there. He will be in hot pursuit of Eve now. For some reason, he wants that red stone, and he wants it desperately.
“Alex, why do you think this stone is so important? We know virtually nothing about it, except that tonight it seems to be calling all the zombies out into the open. I just know there is something I’m missing here. If Eve left me that stone, it must have been for a good reason.”
Alex nods, clearly still a bit shaken from her claustrophobic experience. “Yeah, I agree, Cam, it’s important, but I have no freakin’ clue why! Only Eve would know, and she has her own agenda, it seems.” Alex takes a deep breath before continuing, but I can see that she is having trouble regaining her composure. “Cam, how exactly are we even supposed to find her?” Alex says in frustration.
I point to the sky, where the red beacon of light remains on the move. “That’s how, Alex. That’s how.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
EVE
I’m driving so fast that the roads and trees blur together into some strange Dali painting that I seem to be witnessing live. Everything looks like it is melting. Perhaps it is the stone making me hallucinate. That or the fact that I need to feed.
I am in my more human state for the time being, but it won’t last long unless I feed. I decide food will have to wait until I can find the perfect place to lure the zombies and dispose of them quietly. They will stop at nothing to retrieve the Eye of Ra; not even I will be able to stop them without a good plan. But then one dawns on me, and I make a quick u-turn and head towards the local cookie factory. They will have a massive oven to sear these fuckers in. I drool with delight. “Alright, bitches, let’s go make some zombie chocolate chip cookies.”
The car slides into the factory’s parking lot and grinds to a halt inches from the door. My driving skills are nothing to write home about at the moment. I feel drunk and disoriented as I stumble out of the car and practically drag myself towards the factory doors. Of course, they are locked. I pull at the doors, but my arms are so weak, I feel as though they might tear off. I slam my fists on the door in frustration. I need to get inside one way or another.
Next, I spot a window. I stumble towards it and smash my arm through it. It falls away like a waterfall of glass. I pull myself through it, sliding against the remaining shards of sharp glass. The slicing feeling against my body feels atrocious, but I can’t stop now. I will have time to heal later if I make it that far.
I spot the large baking oven near the back of the factory. It looks like a massive walk-in closet, except for the fact that it holds oven racks for cookie trays, not shoes. I open the double door oven and begin ripping out all the trays frantically and throwing them aside. At one point, I am rendered to my knees. The stone is glowing very brightly in my pocket, and I know they are gaining on me. I have to get this oven started up.
I somehow manage to pull myself to my feet and walk carefully over to a control panel near the oven. One of these buttons has to start the damn thing. I spot a rather large red button. “Big red buttons are always the answer in movies, so let’s go for it,” I say to myself as I shrug with uncertainty.
When I slam my hand upon the red button, I hear churning sounds and loud clicking until flames ignite inside the oven. The heat blasts me a bit and blows me backward. I suppose most people turn it on with the doors closed. I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly and nearly got myself cooked extra crispy. I try to hurry and seal the oven, pushing the doors shut with all the force I have left. The oven needs to be nice and toasty to incinerate those undead bastards.
The flames frighten me as I stare into the windows of the oven. The fire dances inside like angry pixies. It’s entrancingly terrifying, and I decide not to look at them any further. Something about fire is similar to the stone; it repels and intrigues me.
Now there is nothing left to do but wait. I have no other plan and no other options, so this has to work. The red stone in my hand grows brighter and brighter, and I know the herd will be here soon. I still don’t fully understand what the rock’s purpose is in all this. I know that it is unpredictable. I know it has the power to protect; it has the power to raise the dead, and it apparently holds the key to immortality, according to Agent Williams, but I have a feeling he hasn’t told me everything. What will happen if they obtain this last piece of the Eye of Ra? Will it really protect humanity? That is hard to say. How can a stone protect an entire race that barely has any interest in protecting itself?
My eyes bolt towards the factory’s main doors when I hear the moaning and grunting outside. I think I let out a snarl myself. I am ready for them. I clutch the stone firmly in my hand, and it begins to burn me, but I ignore it. Nothing is going to stop me from taking them down, because if I fail, then Little Lake will be up for grabs. I can’t let my town rot like that.
The doors pulse with the sheer force on the other side. There are many of them. If I had a pulse, it would be racing right now. Finally, the sea of zombies breaks through. The first few zombies seem fairly well preserved; the others behind them seem more rotten and decomposed. At least the ones in front still have eyes; it is a bi
t daunting to stare your enemy in the face when there are black craters where their eyes once were. I touch my face briefly, thankful that most of me is still intact.
They begin to walk towards me slowly, and I strike a battle pose, ready to snap any neck I have to. As I make my hands into fists, I see the blue veins that cover my arms. I’m sure the rest of me looks just as dead, but my mind is still mine, thank God. I think I am becoming much better at controlling the virus, but it is uncertain how long that will last.
As I watch them bump into each other and stumble as they approach me, I pray that none of them are like me. If they are, they will be fast, they will have powers, and they will be more work for my already drained body. I stare into the crowd looking for any signs of something special, and there within the crowd stands a male zombie who is still staring at me as the others meander forward. He tilts his head to observe me as he grins. That one is coming for me. I place the stone in my pocket and open one of the oven doors. The heat sears my lashes, and I know that it’s ready.
I turn to face the staring zombie, and he is already running towards me. I brace myself for impact. He takes me down with a running head butt and slams me to the ground inches away from the oven. I feel my hair melting as it cascades behind me. The zombie still smiles at me as he pegs me into place with his hands. He then decides to sniff me and licks my face ever so slowly and cringes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m not everyone’s flavor of the month,” I reply sarcastically, which confuses him just enough to get a knee under him. I push him off of me with all I have and then try to crawl away before he can retrieve me.
Before I can get very far, I feel something grab my hair and raise me to my feet. I suppose I wasn’t fast enough. The picky eater retrieves me and decides it will be fun to dangle me in front of his approaching zombie friends. It feels like he is showing me off as a play thing. The only problem is that it isn’t going to be any fun for me.
I try to grab at his hands and release my hair, but he holds on so tightly that his fingers won’t budge. The zombies aren’t far now; their arms are outstretched and ready to tear me apart, all for a little stone.
I decide that I have only one option, and this isn’t going to be pleasant, but it is the only idea I have that will release me from his vice grip. I resist fighting him and go limp. The weight of my body allows me to drop to my hands and knees while Mr. Zombie still holds my hand tightly. If he doesn’t want to let go by choice, I am going to make him. I start to crawl away, even though it hurts. He pulls me back, and I pull forward with every ounce of effort I can gather. I begin to hear tearing, and I know it’s working. I scream as I launch myself forward, and my hair along with the entire back half of my scalp tears away from my skull.
I am screaming out of pain, but there is also triumph in it as I watch the zombie examine the hair and scalp tissue with confusion, but before he has a moment to register that he has failed, I run towards him and kick his ass into the oven, slamming the door after him.
“I guess I won’t be getting that back,” I say as I watch the zombie light up with the tuft of hair still in hand.
When he collapses, I decide it’s time to open both doors and cremate these suckers so that they will never again even think about returning to this earth. The first zombie that grabs my shirt gets an immediate toss into the oven; the next receives the same fate. The sounds from the oven resemble something human, which makes me remember that they were once just that. I fear that they might actually be suffering, but what choice do I have? I can’t let them wander and eat the living whenever they want.
I toss about four into the oven before realizing that there are far too many and I am far too tired to continue. Three zombies grab me at once and begin clawing at me and ripping at my flesh. I try and keep my hand on my pocket so that they can’t rip it open and retrieve the stone. The pain is excruciating, and I wince with every piece of flesh I lose.
A fourth zombie approaches, his mouth wide and his teeth ready. He is but inches from my face, and that’s when I get an idea. I push the other zombies off of me the best I can and retrieve the red rock from my pocket. Within seconds, I have pulled it out and rammed the damn thing down the zombie’s throat, proving that an open gullet only did him in. Next, I throw him towards the open doors, but it is not enough force to land him in the oven. I will need to call upon my strength one last time, and one last time is all I have in me, so it needs to work. I shove the nearest zombies away from me and then sprint towards the zombie that now contains the final piece of The Eye of Ra. When I have picked up enough speed, I lift my leg into the air and kick the bastard square in the chest, sending him flying into the back of the oven where the flames burn the hottest. He melts slowly, building a nice char.
I drop to the floor. The other zombies watch me as I lay on the cold cement floor of the factory. I pray they take the bait and that they are too stupid to know that a final death awaits them. They stand there stunned, and I panic that they will not follow the rock wherever it went. Perhaps I am wrong, and if that is the case, then I am surely finished. I close my eyes and think of my mother. It seems as though there is some consensus about always picturing your mother when you go or think you’re going. I suppose it makes sense; she’s the one who brought you in so it seems only fair that she show you the way out.
As I think of my mother’s smile, I accept my fate and open my eyes. To my surprise, the zombies begin to stumble towards the large oven. I sob tears of grateful joy as they march towards their end. A never-ending stream of them continues forward, and soon enough I am too weak to watch.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ALEX
We follow the beam of red light all the way to the outskirts of town, but the light disappears before we can locate our final destination. Cam hits the brakes of the borrowed Jeep and begins to slam the steering wheel repeatedly.
“Where the hell do we go now?” he shouts in frustration.
“Calm down. We need to think. What’s close to here?”
Cam snorts at me. “Nothing but trees and road.”
“No wait, wasn’t there an old cookie factory or something just up this way? I thought they used to take kids from town there on school trips. Thought I read something not long ago about it closing down soon. Might be worth a look?”
Cam begins to laugh. It isn’t a true laugh; he is mocking me. I suppose he thinks Eve taking refuge in a cookie factory is pretty unlikely.
“So what’s your idea then?” I snort back at him.
He ponders that for a few moments in silence, and when he comes up with nothing, he agrees to try the factory first. As we drive, I ask, “So what do I get if I’m right?”
Cam chuckles. “If you’re right, I’ll cook you dinner for a whole month.”
I laugh. “That doesn’t seem like a fair prize, Cam. You’re a terrible cook.”
We both crack up with real laughter, and I suppose in times like these we have to find moments to laugh or we’ll most likely give up and cry.
When we reach the factory, we find a car parked oddly out front, and the entrance to the factory is wide open and unguarded. Something is definitely wrong here. I slap Cam upside the head before we exit the vehicle. I feel I deserve a non-verbal “I told ya so!” moment.
We quietly approach the doors. Cam found a baseball bat in the back of the Jeep, but I am unarmed and decide to walk cautiously beside him. As we slowly wander inside, there is no sign of anyone around. The only thing that seems strange is the smell; it is not very cookie-like. Instead, it reeks of rotting meat inside the factory. In fact, it becomes so unbearable that I pull my shirt collar above my nose to mask some of the stench.
Cam gags as we reach the back of the factory, I assume because the stench has gotten stronger. The smell seems to be coming from the ovens, which are on with the doors slightly ajar. Cam points to a body on the ground and raises his bat ready to attack, but when
we get closer, we realize that it is Eve. Cam drops his bat and picks her up without checking to see if she’ll eat him first. When it comes to Eve, consequences don’t matter for Cam. I have never met someone more willing to die for another. Even I am unsure if I have that kind of courage.
He lifts her and holds her to him, and he begins to walk towards the exit. He looks happy to just have her near again. It is a touching moment to witness, and I give him some time alone with her as I peek inside the ovens. When I glance inside the inferno, there are charred pieces of flesh and bone inside. I have to cover my mouth, or I will scream. I don’t want to alarm Cam or Eve; it seems as though our zombie problem has been taken care of.
When I meet Cam outside, he is examining her wounds. Her head is bloody, but Cam doesn’t find any injuries. Although the rest of her seems very human, the arm Cam holds looks as though it is decaying from wrist to shoulder. It’s the same arm that was bitten back in Egypt. I don’t want to worry Cam with that observation; I can tell that he already has enough on his mind.
“Alex, why isn’t she healing?” Cam asks as he places her arm back over her chest delicately. She looks like she is being prepared for burial as she lies sprawled out in the backseat of the Jeep with her hands placed over her heart. She seems peaceful at least.
As I get closer to Eve, I notice that she stirs. She begins to mumble something about “my curse” or “Marcus.” I’m not completely sure, so I get even closer. “Eve, are you awake?”
