Darkness and The Grave: A Zombie Novel

by John Tolliver

  As the brothers lifted her up, she cried out again. "Phil, just kill me!" she squealed.

  "No! We can save you Sherry!" he yelled as they ran back to the house.

  They carried Sherry inside and set her down in front of the fireplace. Vik held a skillet over the fire with an oven mitt.

  "Really?" Jim asked incredulously.

  "What else do we have that is metal, clean and flat?" he asked.

  "It will work," Phil said. "It has to."

  By now, despite the presence of the tourniquet, Sherry had lost a lot of blood. Vik turned and pressed the flat end of the skillet to Sherry's stump. She screamed in agony as it made a sizzling noise and then passed out from the pain.

  "Come on, help me carry her to the guest room," Phil said then.

  Jim helped his brother pick her up and carried her to the guest room and laid her on the bed. As they did so, Jim noticed the bleeding had been stanched.

  Phil grabbed a blanket and covered her up. "Alright guys. I guess we'll see how she does. She's probably in shock. She lost a lot of blood out there and in here before we cauterized her wound. When she wakes up we will have to give her water. Some of these houses nearby must have water. Jim, will you and Vik go search?"

  Jim nodded. "Yeah, we'll go look."

  "Thanks," he replied.

  He and Vik walked out of the room and walked outside. Jim realized he had left his axe in the driveway. He ran over to it and paused. The blade was still red with Sherry's blood and the amputated part of her leg lay in the driveway still, a small pool of blood beneath it. He picked up his axe slowly and stepped back.

  "Whoa," Vik said.

  They walked to the Warren’s house.

  "Be ready Vik, there's at least one zombie in there," Jim said as they reached the front door.

  Vik raised his hammer and swung it at the door near the deadbolt. The door swung open as the bolt was broken. Jim walked in, axe raised. Vik followed. Warren appeared to be the only zombie in the house. He stumbled toward them.

  He had been a mean old man for as long as Jim could remember. Whenever he and Phil came to visit their dad, Jim remembered how if a ball was thrown over the fence into his yard he would come out and scream at them.

  Jim stared at him for a moment and then swung the axe down into the old man’s head. He fell to the ground motionless.

  "Alright, let's see if he's got bottled water," Jim said, walking into the kitchen. Sure enough, he had a whole case of it!

  Jim and Vik carried it back to the house and cleaned the blood off the floor in the living room. Then they waited.

  Phil spent the night in the guest room with Sherry while Jim and Vik slept in the living room again.

  The next morning Jim awoke at dawn. He stood and walked to the back of the house. Sherry was awake. Phil was still asleep on the floor beside the bed.

  "Hey," Jim said.

  "Hey," she said weakly.

  "How are you feeling?"

  "Alright, I suppose, for someone who's missing half of their leg." She forced a smile.

  "Good."

  "Thank you for bringing me water."

  "No problem. I'm glad I could help."

  Phil stirred. He sat up and looked around. "You're awake!"

  "I am," she said.

  "Good!" He stood and stretched.

  "Hey, is there any ibuprofen here?" she asked. "My leg really hurts. I also have a killer headache."

  "I'll go look," Jim said. He turned and walked to the bathroom. He opened the medicine cabinet and saw a bottle of ibuprofen. He grabbed it and walked back to the bedroom. As soon as he reached the room, Sherry made a strange noise.

  "Are you okay?" Phil asked.

  She shook her head. "I don't feel so good."

  "What's wrong?"

  "I-" suddenly she screamed in agony and arched her back. She sat up and began throwing up. In the dark room her vomit looked black. She was vomiting blood.

  Phil jumped back. "No, no, no!" he yelled.

  "Phil, what's happening to me?" she asked, wiping her mouth. "Do I have Owasa Disease? Am I going to become a zombie?" She started crying. Her tears left black streaks on her face.

  Vik ran back to the bedroom. "Guys we have a problem! Uh, what?" He stopped in his tracks.

  "Yeah we do have a problem! Sherry has Owasa Disease!" Phil yelled.

  "Phil, you might want to look out front."

  Jim ran into the living room and peeked out the window through a crack in the plywood. He gasped. There must have been hundreds of zombies in front of the house, stretching into the street.

  He heard Phil cuss. He ran back to the bedroom and saw Sherry had fallen back asleep.

  "Phil, we have to kill her!" Jim said.

  "No! We can't!" Phil said, starting to cry. He shoved Jim aside and walked into the living room. Jim followed him out of the guest bedroom, leaving the stench of blood and vomit behind. Vik sat down in the hallway outside the bedroom.

  Jim sat down in the recliner. Phil sat on the couch across from him, his face in his hands. He was bawling.

  "What are we going to do?" he asked. "Sherry is going to die and we are surrounded by zombies. We are all going to die."

  "No, we aren't. We'll get out of this. For now, though, our most pressing problem is that Sherry is sick. I'm sorry I said we should kill her," Jim said.

  "It's okay. I know that I said we would have to kill someone who was bitten. But that was then, I mean I didn't really realize this is what that would be like."

  "Yeah."

  "So what now?"

  "I guess we wait."

  A few hours later, Phil walked out into the backyard. Vik walked into the living room.

  "So what are we going to do?" he asked.

  "I don't know. I guess we'll wait and see what happens," Jim said quietly.

  "Yeah."

  At dusk they heard vomiting and choking noises come from the bedroom. Jim and Phil ran back and saw Sherry convulsing. Then she was still. Phil walked over to her and put his finger on her neck.

  "She's dead," he said. He started to cry again.

  "Here's what we're going to do," Jim said. "We are going to take her outside and build a funeral pyre in the backyard. Then we will cremate her. Then we will figure out how we are going to escape."

  "Okay," Phil sniffled.

  "Vik, help me carry her out. Grab her ankle."

  "Okay," Vik grabbed her ankle.

  "Be careful not to get any blood or vomit in your eyes or mouth," Jim said.

  "Okay," Vik replied as he and Jim lifted her up and carried her out. They carried her out the backdoor and laid her bloody body in the grass as the sky faded from red to black.

  Jim and Vik quickly gathered firewood and built a pyre. Phil walked out as they were finishing up. Jim then used some rope to bind her wrists.

  "Alright, help me lift her on to the pyre," he said.

  He and Vik started to lift her when she growled. They dropped her immediately.

  "Sherry?" Phil asked as she opened her eyes and growled again.

  "No, not Sherry," Jim said. "Not anymore."

  She struggled against the rope and began to sit up. Jim put his foot on her chest and pushed her back down. She growled angrily.

  Phil walked up with a rod of rebar. He looked down at her. "I'm sorry Sherry," he said as he jabbed the rod down into her forehead. She became still. He pulled the bar from her head, threw it aside and stepped back.

  "Vik, help me lift her up on the pyre," Jim said, grabbing her leg. They lifted her up and laid her on top of the firewood. Phil approached with a gas can. He poured gasoline over her and the pyre.

  "Get back," he said as he pulled out a matchbox. Jim and Vik both stepped back as he struck a match and dropped the burning stick near Sherry’s corpse. The pyre ignited with an intense fireball. Flames leapt upward into the dark night sky. The fire roared as wood and Sherry were both consumed.

  "Sherry Walker," Phil said. "We had a rocky relationship
, it's true. At times you loved me, at times you hated me. I think at different stages I felt the same. But these last couple of months saw our relationship stabilize and you were actually an excellent companion to have. I will miss you," Phil said.

  They all stood there for a while watching the pyre burn. The growls of zombies from the front yard grew louder.

  Jim put his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

  Phil turned to face him.

  "We need to go," Jim said quietly.

  "How?"

  "Well," he stood there thinking. "We could take the bass boat to a safe spot and steal a car or walk out or, wait! I've got it!"

  "Yeah? What's your idea?" Vik asked.

  "I'll sneak through the backyards of neighboring houses and flank the horde. I'll lead them away from this street and when it's clear, you guys bring the Lincoln and pick me up."

  "Wait, wait," Phil said. "I don't like that idea. I'm fine just taking the boat."

  "No, if we do that, we lose a perfectly functioning car! I can do this!"

  "Jim, if I lose you, I don't know if I can keep going!"

  "Phil, trust me!"

  He growled. "Fine, but you'd better come back alive!"

  "I will! Trust me! I'll lead them north on Jefferson."

  Jim ran back into the house and grabbed his axe and flashlight. He also grabbed his knife, strapping it to his ankle. Then he ran to the garage, grabbed a small box and a lighter and ran back outside.

  "Wish me luck!" he said as he ran past Phil and Vik to the privacy fence. He swung his axe and hacked a hole in the fence. He climbed through to the next yard and was relieved to find it was zombie free. He circled around the house as it sat on the corner of the peninsula jutting into the lake. He glanced across the canal and saw dozens of zombies pressing against chain-link fences, their eyes glowing menacingly in the moonlight. Some of the zombies seemed to be glowing faintly.

  Jim then hopped the neighbor's chain-link fence and ran through the next yard. He hopped the fence on the other side of the yard and encountered a zombie standing in a gazebo. As he ran through the gazebo, Jim swung his axe and swiftly scalped the zombie. It fell to the wooden deck with a thud. Jim continued on and ran through a yard without a fence. He paused when he reached the driveway and saw zombies in the front yard. He needed to go further still.

  In the next yard Jim encountered a zombie standing near a ceramic birdbath. He swung the axe into its head. It fell and knocked the birdbath over. Jim continued on and ran through three yards without fences.

  He hopped a yellow chain-link fence into a yard with three zombies. They were quickly dispatched. Finally, he reached a yard with a wall of hedges bordering the driveway. He looked down the driveway and saw the coast was clear.

  Jim ran out to the street and saw that he was about fifty feet past the horde. He pulled a firecracker out of his pocket and lit the fuse. He dropped it and stepped back a few feet. It went off with a loud bang.

  Several zombies turned around and saw him. He started jumping up and down, waving his arms.

  "Hey! Zombies! Come and get me!" he yelled.

  The horde turned and started moving toward Jim. He walked backwards, catching his breath. "That's right, keep coming,” he mumbled.

  He climbed up on a Hummer parked on the side of the road and looked down the street toward his dad's house. He saw the flames from the funeral pyre leaping skyward and saw the horde retreating from the house. He climbed down and continued walking away from the zombies, leading them away from Phil and Vikram.

  Jim reached Jefferson and turned north on it.

  "Come on! You're going to have to work for your meal!" he yelled. The zombies continued to follow him.

  He passed Worthington Street. The horde stretched out in front of him as they spilled off of Shorewood Street. He heard a car honking and saw the Lincoln turn onto Jefferson heading south, away from him. It stopped and started honking. The horde stopped and turned away from Jim. They changed directions and started walking toward the Lincoln. The SUV drove off slowly, turning right on the next side street.

  "Yes!" Jim whispered. He looked up at the night sky. The stars shone brightly, the moon even brighter.

  He heard a car approaching from the north. He looked up and saw the Lincoln's headlights approaching. The SUV slowed to a stop and the driver's side window rolled down.

  "You look cold, get in!" Phil said.

  Jim laughed.

  "Actually, I have a better idea. Feel like driving?"

  "Sure," Jim said.

  "Great!" Phil shifted the car into park, unbuckled his seat belt, got out and climbed in the back seat.

  Jim climbed into the driver's seat, rolled the window up, buckled the seatbelt and shifted into gear. The Lincoln pulled away. Jim drove to Interstate 94 and merged onto it going south.

  "Do you remember how to get to Vicki's?" Phil asked.

  "Yeah, I think," Jim replied.

  "Okay, just let me know if you get lost. I'm going to get some shut eye."

  "Good night Phil."

  "So, good work back there Jim!" Vik said as they drove up to an elevated section of I-94.

  "Thanks," Jim said, looking around. Small fires burned all over Detroit.

  "Wow, there's a lot of fires out there," Vik said.

  "Yeah. I guess we aren't the only ones who avoided becoming zombies."

  "Huh. How are you doing with your father's death?" he asked.

  "I'm doing better, I think. How are you doing with Sherry’s death? I know you guys grew kind of close."

  "I'll be okay."

  "Okay. I'm worried about Phil. They were really close."

  "I think he'll be fine."

  Jim drove through the night and they arrived at 2054 West Dakin Street in Chicago at dawn the next day. Jim parked the Lincoln in front of his sister’s house. Everyone climbed out to stretch.

  "Huh," Phil said.

  "What?" Jim asked.

  "Their cars are gone."

  Jim shrugged. "Maybe they got stolen. Look, there aren't any red sheets in the windows. And, for that matter, none of the windows are broken.”

  "Yeah, true. Let's see," Phil said. They walked up to the porch together. Phil looked under a ceramic frog on the stoop and found the spare key. He unlocked the door and the brothers walked in.

  The old two-story house smelled of air freshener and faintly of greasy food. It was chilly inside.

  "Hello?" Phil yelled. "Vicki? Todd? Laci? Hannah?"

  No answer.

  "You guys search down here and in the basement. I'll look upstairs," he said, climbing the stairs.

  Vik and Jim walked around downstairs. The living room looked nearly undisturbed. So did the kitchen and the office. Jim reluctantly opened the door to the basement and he and Vik walked down the stairs.

  Jim was relieved to find there were no bodies hanging from nooses. He and Vik walked back up to the first floor as Phil walked downstairs.

  "Anything?" he asked.

  Jim shook his head. "You?"

  "No. The beds are made, but there's no sign anything bad happened here."

  "Huh. Maybe they tried to escape?"

  "Maybe. I wish we knew where they had gone off to!"

  Jim sat down on the couch. "I guess we may never know," he said glumly.

  "Maybe," Phil said, sitting down beside him. "But this might mean they survived."

  "Yeah, I guess."

  "Well," he looked at Jim and Vik. "You guys must be tired. I know I am."

  "Yeah, I'm exhausted," Vik said.

  "Me too," Jim admitted.

  "Well, there are four bedrooms in this house, I guess let's go upstairs and get some rest," Phil said, standing up.

  Jim locked the door and walked upstairs with them.

  Vik went into Jim’s niece Laci's room and lay down on a bed that was too small, comically too small. Jim walked into the guest bedroom and laid down on the bed while Phil walked back to the master bedroom.

  Jim
covered up and fell asleep quickly.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Jim Gibson

  Day 41

  "Well, I knew somebody ate my porridge and was sleeping in my bed! Who do you think you are, anyway? Goldilocks?" a strange woman asked.

  Jim opened his eyes and saw a crossbow pointed right at him. A curly-headed brunette was holding it.

  "Have a nice nap did you?" she asked suspiciously.

  "Who are you?" Jim asked reaching for his axe.

  "I already moved your axe. How about you tell me who you are!" she replied angrily.

  "Um, I think there's been a misunderstanding. Is it okay if I sit up?"

  "Slowly. Don't try anything fishy!"

  Jim slowly sat up. "Who are you?"

  "Penny Holloway. Who are you?"

  "My name is James Daniel Gibson. Now, what are you doing in my sister’s house?"

  "Your sister's house?" she asked.

  "Yes! My sister's house! What are you doing here?"

  "Um, how do I know you're not just telling me this is your sister's house? Huh?" She jabbed the crossbow at him threateningly.

  "What's going on?" Vikram walked into the doorway.

  She spun and pointed the crossbow at him. "Who are you?"

  He threw his hands up.

  "He's with me! Look, if you don't believe this is my sister’s house, just go look at the photos on the wall! Me and the other guy here you haven't seen yet are in them!" Jim said angrily.

  She lowered her crossbow. "Okay, James, if that's your real name. You wait right here," she said, pushing past Vikram.

  Vik raised his eyebrows, confused.

  Jim shrugged. "A vagrant I guess."

  "What did you call me?" she angrily demanded when she returned a few moments later.

  "I called you a vagrant. Is that not what you are?" Jim asked defensively.

  "No, I am not. But I guess you are the brother of the people who lived here." She lowered her crossbow.

  "Now, where are you from?"

  She sat down on the bed. "Well, I'm from Phoenix originally. But I had cousins who lived here in Chicago, so I came here to find them. I guess they're dead."

  "I see."

  "So how does that bring our sister's house into this?" Phil asked from the hallway.

  "Who? Oh, hello tall, dark and handsome! You must be the big brother?" she responded coyly.