Season of the Dead

by Adams, Lucia

  Gerry stood behind me and exhaled. “Huh. I wonder how that happened?”

  Sharon’s voice dripped disgust. “They were probably in a feeding frenzy, fighting over a meal.”

  “Great. Ugly and her pet, Cerberus,” I moaned, “just when I thought I'd seen it all.”

  Gerry raised his pistol and shot Cerberus first. Her backwards jerk released her as her hair ripped from the other's sweater. “Nice,” I said. “That was easy; too bad they couldn't figure it out sooner. She must have been a dumb one.”

  Gerry shot the other zombie, but she didn’t go down. She was still moving as though the other was still connected to her. Sharon raised her rifle and the woman’s head popped open, stopping her abruptly.

  “Damn,” Gerry said, “some bitches never know when to die… again.”

  I coughed. “It was almost poetic how the one fucked the other one over, even after death. If she’d been smart enough to realize that, she could have survived.”

  Sharon shrugged, but turned her head towards another noise. An elderly woman darted from the woods. Her blonde hair swirled around her head, seeming to move in a circular pattern from all of the maggots eating at her scalp. Lodged in her teeth was a finger—it might have been hers, since one hand was missing.

  “I got this one,” Sharon laughed as she skillfully shot the woman in the head. Her body shuddered, and she made a bleating noise before falling sideways to the ground. “Problem solved.”

  Gerry stood over the body. “Fuck, this one was a regular old crypt-keeper pre-virus.” He returned to the shed, and we followed him.

  *

  The drills Gerry found in the basement made securing the windows go faster than I expected. Kitty and Sharon talked as they strung metal utensils—since they'd run out of empty cans—to the twine. Although Gerry and I were involved in our project, we could hear them share stories of their lives before the virus. Kitty had a large family that was all dead. The pain vibrated in her voice as she recanted how they'd all been infected before she fled her home. I assumed the only reason she didn't break down and cry was because it was a story she'd told a thousand times over in her head each day since. Sharon recounted the scene where she rescued Parker, talking in a whisper so he couldn’t hear her as he played upstairs. There was a pause when Sharon choked, just before ending her story.

  Boarding the windows blocked the sunshine that made the lodge cheery. A gloom settled in as the last board went up, but no one spoke of it. The metal garland was stretched all over the floor in a zig-zag pattern as Kitty and Gerry took it outside, careful not to tangle the shiny garland. I followed them as lookout while Sharon remained behind to continue stringing items together. The plan changed once we realized how complicated it was for Kitty and Gerry to attach the twine around the trees in the most effective way. It was nearly dinner time before we moved on to snares and sharpened stick traps. Saplings were stretched across some of the wider spaces between trees, perched for a painful release if something triggered their traps. Gerry marked the traps by spray painting red X’s on the surrounding trees.

  Exhausted, the three of us welcomed the smell of food roasting in the oven as we entered the lodge. The conversation over dinner consisted of what we’d accomplished and stressing to Parker that he should never go outside by himself, but if something happened and he did, that he was to avoid the trees with red X’s on them. Gerry estimated we’d need three more days of work to complete the booby traps he had planned, and then he’d saw the trap door in the roof.

  “I think we worked well together today—all of us,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Kitty said. “We're a good team. What are the chances of all of us coming together under such extreme circumstances, from different parts of the world, and none of us being assholes?”

  Laughter erupted from everyone until a noise sounding like a table sliding across the floor in the basement made us all freeze in silence. Even Parker remained motionless, mid-chew, as we listened for more noise. It happened again. Gerry locked eyes with Kitty, nodded towards Parker, and then looked at the long staircase. Silently, Kitty rose from the table, placed her finger to her lips, and waved at the boy to follow her. They crept up the stairs. Once their door was shut and we heard the lock click, the three of us stood, our hands absently checked for the guns strapped to our bodies, and we huddled together to whisper.

  “Lucia, did you forget to lock the basement door?” Gerry spat.

  “No, I swear, I double-checked it.”

  “How could a zombie have manipulated the latches?” Sharon asked.

  “They couldn't have. I'm certain of it,” Gerry said. “Well, no zombie I've encountered could have.”

  “Me either,” I said, and Sharon shook her head.

  “Now what?” Sharon whispered.

  “We go downstairs,” Gerry said a little too matter-of-factually.

  “Oh, hells to the no. I stole the last light bulb out of there yesterday. It’s dark as fuck,” I said.

  “What other choice do we have?” Gerry replied.

  A knock came at the door and we ceased breathing for a second. “There’s your choice,” Sharon said.

  Kitty emerged from the room, stood on the balcony, and positioned herself with her rifle pointed at the basement door.

  “Who’s there?” Gerry bellowed, deepening his voice.

  “Judd,” an elderly voice answered, panting.

  We exchanged glances and Gerry continued with the questioning, “How did you get in?”

  “I used my key—I work here in the summers.”

  “Are you alone?”

  “I sure the hell hope so. These damn lights don't work and I lost my flashlight a few miles back.”

  “Are you infected?”

  “No. Are you?” Judd let out a small moan.

  “If you aren’t infected, then why are you making noises?”

  “I'm havin’ some chest pain. Could you let me in?”

  Gerry looked at Sharon—she nodded. His eyes fell on Kitty, and she nodded as well. When he looked at me, I shrugged, and he shrugged back. He poised his gun at head level, unlocked the door, and opened it with one sudden sweep.

  A small, gray-haired man collapsed onto the floor of the lodge. Kitty remained in her position as Gerry shut and locked the door. Sharon’s gun was aimed at Judd’s head, but we could tell the man was in pain. Clutching his chest, he started shaking.

  “Kitty, grab a blanket and a pillow,” I yelled. I dropped down beside him and felt for a pulse. I looked up at Gerry, “It’s weak. He’s so cold. He has hypothermia, I’m sure.” Kitty bound down the stairs, placed a pillow under his head, and Sharon wrapped a blanket around his body.

  “Judd, can you hear me?” His eyes rolled to meet my gaze. With one rattling exhale, Judd stopped shaking. I pressed my two fingers below the fourth and fifth button on his flannel shirt, pressed around to locate his sternum, and begin chest compressions.

  *

  We never learned Judd’s story, or how it was that he came to our camp. I was certain that the stress of traveling on foot, undoubtedly running from zombies, the cold, and his age, all factored into his death. We took turns digging his grave, six feet proper, and held hands as we prayed together over the dirt mounded above him. Inside his wallet were pictures of what we assumed where his grandchildren, probably all dead now, credit cards, and one small white fortune from a fortune cookie. It said, “Time and patience are called for, many surprises await you!”

  CHAPTER 37

  Sharon

  My front door slamming open and the sound of booted feet stomping on tile woke me with a start. Rough hands hauled me from the bed, and my arms were yanked behind my back. There were at least a dozen of them, wearing full body armor, their faces obscured by visored helmets and pointing very large weapons at me. It was all I saw in the seconds before the world went dark as a hood was pulled over my head. I grunted when one of the soldiers threw me over his shoulder, the padding of his armor digging into
my stomach painfully.

  Unceremoniously, they carried me down the service stairs, skipping the elevator. I heard a door open and knew from the smell of tires and old exhaust that we were in the parking garage. I tried to struggle, but the grip on me was bruising.

  The overhead door trundled open, a jet screamed across the sky, rattling the windows as it went supersonic. I could hear panic as people screamed in terror and anger. Hands pounded on the vehicle we were in, demanding that we take them with us. Clipped voices on the radio told someone that “the package has been secured.” Ruefully, I realized the package was me.

  I don’t know how long we drove—it could have been minutes or days—but eventually the vehicle slowed down, the sound of its brakes squeaking in my darkened world. I heard more voices, whispering this time—scared voices laced with fear. Something had gone wrong, I heard one of them say. “Out of control,” said another. My heart began to race, recognizing their fear and responding to it.

  A door opened, I was yanked out; my feet barely skimmed the ground as they dragged me along. I could feel the linoleum under my bare feet; it was cool and smooth. I shivered.

  A door opened and then closed behind us with a solid thud. The sound of the lock being thrown let me know I’d not escape easily. But if they thought I’d just give in, they were wrong, my mind screamed.

  The hood was removed, light blossomed, and for a moment, I was blind. Blinking furiously, my eyes finally adjusted. There were three men and two women, all decked out in their best uniforms. Not one of them was higher than a lieutenant. One of the women was a sergeant—the man next to her, a corporal. I knew what that meant; the chain of command was breaking down. The higher ranking officers were either dead or in hiding. Neither option was good.

  “Why did you bring me here?” I demanded.

  “You are all that is left,” said the other woman. She was young, probably fresh out of the Air Force Academy. “In the entirety of the U.S., we have not one single scientist left.”

  I shrugged, “So, it’s too late anyway. There is no cure. The virus has a 100% kill rate. If you get it, you die. All we can do is wait it out. Why did you bring me here?” I asked again as I worked the rope that bound my hands behind my back.

  “You were on the list as essential,” she said. Her name tag told me her last name was Ortiz.

  “Okay, so here I am. Now what?” I asked. The rope loosened a bit; I had to clamp my mouth shut to keep from giving a shout of joy.

  “We are all that is left. Those that went to NORAD have been infected. The virus rampaged through there. The base is dead. Fort Hood was taken over by a herd of zombies. We’ve not had communication from them for days. STRATCOM is all that remains of the U.S. government,” Lt. Ortiz told me. She was doing her best to sound calm and in control, but I could see her hand tremble when she gestured. She was scared; they all were…kids playing at war games in a world that had gone to hell.

  “I can’t help you. I’ve studied the virus. It shouldn’t be able to do what it does. There is no explanation for it. No cure. All that is left is to wait it out.”

  “Can you create a vaccine, a preventative?” the young corporal asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.” I paused as he wiped his hand across his face, leaving behind a trail of snot on his dress blues. I glanced at the lieutenant. She knew the state of her comrade.

  “I guess you get to die here with us,” she said and then smiled. The flesh on the side of her face slid off, revealing maggots that squirmed and writhed. The sergeant’s arm loosened from its joint, hanging loose in her sleeve as an acrid black stain spread across her uniform.

  The rope finally came free; I turned to run, but there was nowhere to go. Zombies crowded into the room—decaying faces of people that I knew and loved, and some I had never known. The lieutenant grabbed my hair and took a bite out of my cheek. Tears ran down my face as my screams were drowned out by the sound of the dead feasting.

  *

  I woke with a gasp, my heart racing. Yellow sunlight streamed through the window, displaying an azure sky beyond as I took deep breaths to calm myself. For the past three days, it had snowed. The temperature had not fallen enough to start a freeze, so we ended up with wet, heavy snow that bowed the branches of the trees that struggled to stand. This was the first day the sun had shown its face. After the darkness of my nightmare, I was glad to see it.

  Swinging my feet to the floor, I stood and stretched aching muscles that were tense with stress, both from my dream and from this new world. I dressed and walked out into the hallway.

  Peering over the railing, I could see Gerry prowling around, keeping watch. I waved, he nodded, and I went to check on Parker. My room was at the end of the hall; Parker had been sharing a room with me, but he and Kitty had bonded, and she was happy to have him share her room. This was a good thing, as Parker was determined to be in there with her, regardless.

  Slowly, I cracked the door open. Parker’s narrow bed was empty. Opening the door a bit more, I found Parker and Kitty snuggled up together in her bunk. She stirred and cracked open an eye at me. I raised a brow, silently asking her if she wanted me to put him back in his bunk. She shook her head, and closed her eyes, falling back asleep. I smiled and closed the door behind me.

  Lucia’s room was next. She had left the door open. The squirrel suit and head were spread out on the bunk she wasn’t using. After several scrubbings, its fur stood on end, much like a cat that had fallen in a puddle, but the pong that had been coming off of it was reduced. I was amazed all over again that she had managed to live in that thing for so long and wondered if she felt exposed without it.

  I heard the shower kick on and realized that it must be her. I’d wait my turn. In the meantime, I’d go relieve Gerry. He and Lucia split the night shift, seeming to enjoy one another’s company and being awake at night.

  I jogged down the stairs and went to the kitchen. I didn’t drink coffee, but I did like the smell of it brewing, so I put a pot on for Gerry and Lucia. Kitty decided she liked coffee, and since I wasn’t her mother, who was I to tell her no?

  I had found a hunk of frozen bacon in the back of the freezer the day before and had stuck it in the fridge to thaw. I grabbed it out, unwrapped the tinfoil, and poked it, nearly cheering when I realized that I’d be able to cook it.

  The lodge had a full restaurant and had been known for its Sunday brunches. So, we were well stocked with utensils. I found a cast-iron skillet, lit a burner on the stove with a whoosh, and added some bacon strips as the metal warmed up.

  The door cracked open; Gerry’s head appeared. “You making bacon?” he asked.

  I grinned, “Yep, and if you go get me some eggs, I’ll make those, too.” He disappeared without answer, but I heard the door to the cellar open and his feet pounding down the stairs.

  “It’s all about the proper motivation,” I said to myself as I turned the bacon, jumping back as the grease popped.

  “There were only two,” he said, depositing two large brown eggs on the counter. I held them up to the light. The first one was fine, but the second had clearly been fertilized. “Take this back down to Chuck, will you?” I asked, handing him back the egg. I’d let it hatch; it wouldn’t hurt to increase their numbers a bit.

  “The kid does know that bird’s a hen, doesn’t he?” Gerry asked, taking the egg.

  “Yes, I explained it to him. He doesn’t seem to care though,” I said, and so we had a hen named Chuck.

  There were some leftover eggs in the fridge; I cracked them and fried them along with the bacon.

  “Bacon?” Lucia asked as she walked in the door. “And coffee. I think I may love you,” she said, pouring herself a cup. I grinned and set the bacon strips on a paper towel. Kitty showed up a few minutes later, lured by the siren song of frying pork.

  We ate, and for a moment it was good to pretend that everything was normal, and that my nightmare had been just that—a nightmare. Sadly, it wasn’t, and part of me won
dered what had happened to General Daniels and the rest.

  After breakfast, Gerry, having been up all night, wandered up the stairs, and I went to check on my laptops. The snowstorm had caught us by surprise. One minute we were unloading the bus and the truck, and the next a howling wind had kicked up. For two days, a steady fall of snow had blanketed the landscape in a thick veil of white that was nearly two feet deep.

  The sun glinting off the snow was blinding as I sat down at the table. One of the laptops was strictly for running tests. It was not connected to the Internet. That was because the hard drive was classified as ‘top secret’, and keeping it off the web would make it more secure… not that it mattered anymore. The other one could link directly to a satellite, and if there was a connection, no matter how weak, it would find it.

  I powered it on and wondered how I could find weather information. We had gas and electricity, but that would only continue as long as the power plants were operational. With no one to run them, how long would it be before there was a failure?

  It was much the same with satellites. They needed constant course corrections or would fall out of orbit. When that happened we’d lose what was left of the Internet and our cell phones would be rendered useless. We were about to be cast into the stone ages, and who knew how long it would take to regain the technological ground we had fought so hard for.

  “Whatcha’ doin’?” Kitty asked as she plunked herself down next to me.

  “I’m trying to see if I can get access to a weather sat,” I answered, gnawing my lip in concentration as I typed in lines of code. “I have a high level clearance, but I just don’t know where to look.” The satellites were the providence of NORAD, and while I didn’t claim to have prophetic dreams, I did wonder if anyone was still alive there.

  “Here, let me try,” she said, inching closer.