"Why are you leaving the bayonet down here?" Vik asked.
Jim shrugged. "I don't know; I just have a feeling it should be left down here until we leave."
"Okay," he said. "What do you think Phil will say of our find?"
As they walked back to the stairs, Jim replied. "I think he'll be happy and a bit jealous. Hey though, we all have guns now and decent close quarters weapons."
Phil walked in a few hours later.
"What did you guys get?" Vik asked as he walked in.
"We killed a deer and got some of its meat," he said. "Penny is dragging it back in a red wagon we found. If you guys want, go help her carry the meat in. It's wrapped in butcher paper we found and just needs to be cooked. Whoa, where'd you guys find those?" he asked, surprised by the guns.
"In the basement," Jim said quietly. "They were the only ones."
"Wow!"
"Pretty cool, huh?"
"Yeah! So Vik gets the World War One era rifle and you get a pistol?"
Jim nodded.
"That's good! Now go help Penny."
Jim stood and walked outside. Penny stood there with a little red wagon full of packets wrapped in brown butcher paper.
"So you shot Bambi?" he asked, walking down the stairs in front of the house to the wagon.
She nodded, smiling.
"Where'd you guys find this deer?"
"We found the deer and wagon down in Lincoln Park."
"I'm excited to eat it!" Jim said. He grabbed some packets and carried them inside. Then he walked out to the backyard and laid them on the patio table. He fired up the grill and walked back to the front to carry more deer meat up.
They spent the afternoon cooking the venison. Then they ate it for dinner along with some beer Penny had found in the backyard.
And that's all Jim could remember from the night before when he woke up the next morning. He had a slight headache. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. How much beer had he drunk the night before?
He felt stiff as he climbed out of bed. He looked around. Where were his pistol and axe? Had he left them downstairs?
He walked out of the bedroom and walked past Penny's room. She was gone.
"Probably out hunting," he mumbled as he walked by. He walked downstairs and found Vik asleep on the couch. Neither the axe nor the pistol was downstairs.
Jim tried to remember where he had left them. He shook his head. He really couldn't remember anything from after dinner. He walked over to Vik and shook his sleeping roommate.
"Wake up Vik!" he said.
"What do you want?" Vik asked sleepily.
"Have you seen my pistol or axe?"
"No! Let me go back to sleep!"
Jim sat down on the adjacent couch. Where had he left them?
He heard Phil yell from upstairs suddenly.
He ran to the stairs. "What is it?" he yelled.
"My shotgun is gone! So is my machete!" Phil yelled back. "Have you seen it? We must have gotten really drunk last night! I can't remember anything from after dinner!"
"Me neither!" Jim yelled back. "I can't find my axe or my pistol!"
Phil walked downstairs. "What the heck did we do last night?" He looked at Vik. "Wake him up, we need to figure out what happened."
"Vik! Wake up!" Jim yelled.
"Shut up!" he yelled back, pulling a pillow over his head.
"Where's Penny?" Phil asked.
Jim shrugged. "I figured she had gone out hunting."
"Hey! Vik! Come on man, get up!" Phil said. He tossed a throw pillow at the sleeping man.
Vik sat up rubbing his head. "Man, I've got a killer headache. Did we get hammered last night?"
"That seems to be the case," Phil said. "Let's try to piece this together. What's the last thing you remember Jim?"
"Um, I remember finishing my deer steak and quickly drinking the rest of my bottle of beer. I think that was around nine," he said.
"Okay, Vik?" Phil asked.
"I remember you said something about Sherry, right before Penny asked something about the Lincoln."
"Okay, I remember her asking me how much gas the Lincoln had. I was feeling pretty woozy at that point. And Jim, you were acting really goofy."
Vik walked into the kitchen and walked over to the case of beer. As he picked it up, he seemed to notice something on the counter. He sat the six pack down and picked up a blister pack of pills.
"What's that Vik?" Phil asked.
"I don't know. It says Roche on it. They're little white pills," he said. He dropped the pack when he realized what he had said. "Oh."
"She slipped us roofies!" Jim exclaimed. It made sense. "Vik, where's your rifle?"
"Over by the…" he started to point toward the front door but lowered his hand when he saw it was missing. "…Door."
"She robbed us!" Jim said.
"She sure did. Well, she couldn't have gotten too far. Let's see if we can catch upto her!" Phil said. "Get your stuff."
Jim ran downstairs and was grateful to find the bayonet and bullets were still in the chest. He ran back upstairs and gave the box of rifle bullets to Vik. Jim put the 9mm bullets in his backpack and took a quick inventory of his remaining gear: he had his knife, his compass, his watch, the bayonet, several shirts, a hoodie, a coat, and shoes.
He walked downstairs to meet with the guys. They walked to the door and Phil opened it. They walked out on the porch.
Phil cussed.
"You've got to be kidding me!" Jim exclaimed.
"She is a devil!" Vik yelled.
The Lincoln was long gone.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Adam Doss
Day 45
Adam grimaced. They had killed ten zombies in the gym, including some zombified teenagers, plus the two Casey had killed in the hallway. The creatures in the gym had almost gotten Vicki and her kids. The thought made him shudder. The zombies in the hallway had gotten Missy. He looked down at the man on the cot.
Casey was sound asleep on a cot in the nurse’s office. Randy and Adam had found him kneeling over Missy’s bloody corpse punching a locker over and over. Randy had tackled him. Randy and Adam had then carried the grief-stricken man into the gym. When they brought Casey into the large room, Jamie had forced him to take a pill that quickly sedated him.
“What did you give him?” Adam had asked Jamie.
“I gave him some Tramadol,” the older man had replied.
“Will he be okay?” Randy had asked.
“Well, Vicki set the bones in his hand. But he’ll be okay.”
“He broke his hand?” Adam asked.
“You tell me? You saw him punching the locker like a mad man.”
Adam stared down at Casey. He was peaceful now. Adam decided he wouldn’t tell Casey about having to kill Missy when she had come back as a zombie. Not now anyway. That would come later.
“Man, Casey,” he said as he looked at the bandages wrapped around Casey’s right hand. “I hope that heals right.” He shook his head. Casey had nearly punched a hole into the locker door.
Adam stood and walked out into the hallway. The sun was coming up outside. He walked down the hall to the gym and saw Jill sleeping on the floor next to Todd and Vicki and the girls. He walked to the main entrance and saw Randy standing outside talking to Jamie. Jamie was smoking a cigarette.
Adam walked outside and joined them.
“Hey Adam,” Randy greeted him.
“Hey.”
“Anyway,” Jamie said. “It’s going to be a long walk to Canada if we can’t find another vehicle. Let’s see, we have capacity in the Land Rover for five people and some luggage. We have nine people plus luggage, so if we can find a functional car nearby, we could just get back on the road. Otherwise, we’re going to have to walk.”
“We’ll find something,” Adam said.
“I don’t know about that,” Jamie replied. “This is a little town out in the middle of nowhere. This is a bad place to have broken down. Especially with it
getting to be winter.”
“We’ll find something,” Adam insisted. He walked back inside and ran into Todd.
“Hey Adam,” Todd said sleepily. “Are you and Randy up to going out in the Land Rover to look for a car we can use?”
“Uh sure,” he replied. “When?”
“How about now?”
“Sure.” He turned and walked back outside. “Hey Randy, Todd wants us to go look for a car with the Land Rover.”
Randy looked at him. “Okay. Now?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
The two walked to the Land Rover. It was chilly outside. When they got in, Randy started the SUV and steered it out of the parking lot. He drove east into town. The two combed the streets all morning but didn’t see a single functional car. They barely saw any cars at all.
“I guess most of the folks here fled,” Adam said.
Randy nodded. “Yeah, I guess they did. I guess we’ll head back. Maybe we can drive to the next town over this afternoon and look.”
He turned the SUV around and they drove back toward the school. As they turned onto East Baldwin Avenue, the Land Rover hit a patch of ice and began to spin.
“Hold on!” Randy yelled as it slid off the road and hit a ditch.
Adam felt the world spinning around him and was momentarily grateful he had thought to put his seatbelt on. Shattered glass flew around him as the Land Rover rolled over and over. Finally, it came to rest upside down next to a tree.
“You okay?” he asked a moment later.
“Yes. You?” Randy replied.
“Yeah.” Adam slowly undid his seatbelt and crawled out of the wrecked SUV. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Randy replied as he climbed out. “I guess I hit some ice. Todd’s not going to be happy.”
They limped back down the road to the school. When they arrived, Todd ran out to them.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I flipped the Land Rover,” Randy confessed.
“What?”
“We hit ice coming around a corner and went off the road and the Land Rover flipped several times,” Adam said.
“I’m glad you’re okay!” Todd exclaimed as he hugged Randy. “This is unfortunate though. Did you guys see any other cars?”
Adam shook his head. “No. Just a few burned out wrecks. Nothing we could use.”
Todd tilted his head and looked upward for a moment. “I guess we’ll have to walk. I mean, if nothing else, maybe we can find somewhere better to hole up than this school.”
Randy nodded. “Yeah. I guess so. When do you want to leave?”
“Let’s give Casey a day to recover. Then we’ll set out.”
They spent the rest of the day preparing to walk, redistributing supplies between bags. Casey woke up around noon and walked around the school silently all day.
Adam saw Randy walk out and talk to him. Adam walked over to Jill. “How are you holding up?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I’m hanging in there. You know, it’s tough.”
“Yeah.” He hugged her.
“I’m glad I have you Adam,” she said.
“I’m glad I have you.”
They all slept poorly that night. The next morning, they set out on foot from the school. Todd and Vicki walked in front, followed by the girls, and Casey, Randy, Adam, Jillian and Jamie brought up the rear. Adam was happy at least that it was warm, compared to how it had been.
They made good time at first, walking past mile after mile of silent forest. They all stopped at an abandoned gas station on the side of the road to eat lunch around noon and then they continued on. Todd, Randy, Adam and Jamie all took turns giving Hannah and Laci piggyback rides. Around 2:00pm, Adam noticed that dark black clouds were moving in from the north. He wondered if it was going to rain.
A cold wind suddenly hit them and it began to snow. Soon the snow was falling so heavily that Adam could only see a few hundred feet in any direction. He and the others quickly bundled up and continued on. Soon visibility dropped to a few feet in any direction.
“Hold hands!” Todd yelled from somewhere up ahead.
They formed a human chain and continued on very slowly. Hours seemed to pass. The snow rapidly piled up around them. Adam guessed they were walking through snow at least a foot deep. Eventually he realized they weren’t walking on pavement anymore. He wondered where they were walking to and he began to wonder if they were going to freeze to death in this blizzard.
“Todd!” he yelled as loud as he could.
“What?”
“We need to find shelter!”
“Where? We passed the last building more than an hour ago! We have to keep walking! If we stop we’ll die!”
Suddenly the chain stopped.
“Guys! Come up here!” Todd yelled.
Adam walked forward and almost tripped over a wooden step. He slowly crawled up it and realized they had run into a large covered porch in front of a large farmhouse.
“Maybe we can take shelter inside!” Todd yelled over the roaring wind.
He stepped toward the door as Adam and Randy walked toward it too. Adam reached for the doorknob and suddenly the door swung open.
He looked up and saw an old man standing in the doorway holding a double-barreled shotgun. The old man stood about six feet tall, had thick black-rimmed glasses, wore a blue flannel shirt and had a black beanie covering his head. He had a bushy white mustache. He looked at the survivors warily. His eyes narrowed.
“What are you doing on my farm?” he demanded as he cocked the shotgun.
The End
Read on for a free sample of Living Dead
Chapter 1
They slam their fists against the walls and the doors, and they slash their hands on the broken glass when they punch through the windows. But they are dead so they don’t feel it, and they are hungry so they won’t stop. The noise is a barrage. It’s an endless hailstorm on a tin roof. Day in and day out, the dead sense the flesh of the living and pound themselves into paste trying to get a piece of it.
For weeks, the six of them listen as the song drones on and on and on. All rhythm, no melody. A song you can keep a beat to, but not one you can hum or sing. Through nameless, generic days and through longer nights. Double bass and toms, pounding through every thought of every moment of every day.
When Calgary’s power grid goes down, Scott and Cooper head to the basement where there are stacks of long two by fours. Scott cuts them with an old wood saw. Cooper holds the wood still with his feet. They burn smooth, yellow, perfectly-sized bricks of wood in the fireplace and huddle around the scented candles Scott’s mom has been collecting since before Scott was born. At night, they look out at the empty hole in the horizon where the Calgary skyline used to be, now dotted with fire lights.
The candles fill the air with vanilla and honeydew. With sarsaparilla and lilacs and roses. With cloves and cinnamon and earth. The smoke fills the sky with the crisp smell of burning pine. These smells are fragile reminders of the past. And like the past, they wither and die moments after entering the new world.
The smell of dead people overpowers everything. It’s not that sickly sweet bullshit they describe in books. It’s a heavy, primal thing that grabs you by the throat and forces you to breathe through your teeth. It’s as though your body instinctively knows there’s something horrid in the air and refuses to draw it into your lungs. The smell demands attention. It commands it.
But it’s the noise, and not the smell, that finally pushes Allen over the edge. Later, when it’s quiet, Bretta will realize you can get used to anything if you are exposed to it long enough. Anything can become your normal. But not right now. Right now, she wraps her head in pillows for a moment’s peace. And Scott presses those pillows against her ears, and she clutches his hands to force them tighter. And their wedding rings are warm metal touching, but it doesn’t make Bretta feel better the way it did once.
And perhaps th
ey all have their heads buried in pillows when Allen finally takes the plunge. Everyone is too busy fighting their own demons to notice that he has already lost the battle with his.
All they really know is that their sleep is interrupted by the sound of Allen screaming, and then Nancy screams, but it’s a much shorter one. When screams are cut short like that, it’s always because something awful has just happened. The air is filled with the smell of vanilla candles and dead people, but that’s not a trigger because the air is always filled with those smells. Tonight there is something else. The electric tang of adrenaline. And so much rage.
Scott is out of bed before he’s even awake, and then he takes a moment to stare at the floor and wonder what the fuck he’s doing. Outside, dead people are drumming the walls with renewed ferocity. They hear the screams, and it renews their faith that a warm meal is just inside the house. If they can drum their way through. They’ve finally busted out the window in Scott and Bretta’s room, and from under the boards shuttering the window closed, there are shards of glass all over the floor.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU COCKSUCKER!” Allen’s voice, from his room. If Allen was a vinyl record warming in the sun, and his soft vocals were straining past recognition.
Bretta’s in bed with the sheets pulled up over her chest. She asks what’s wrong and Scott ignores her. She asks what they’re doing up there he doesn’t respond to that either. He has a direction now. He remembers why he jumped out of bed. He grabs the baseball bat by the door and heads for the stairs. Bretta cries after him, saying his name like it has power, wanting to be included. And Scott says nothing. He opens the door and steps into the hall, his tanned face sweaty and full-bearded.
At the foot of the stairs, Cooper is in a housecoat, rubbing the sleep off his face and scratching his head. Cooper asks what the hell his problem is now. Scott says he doesn’t know.
“He sounds like he’s flipped his shit for good this time,” Scott says. What he doesn’t say is it’s because of the dead people outside and the noise, because everyone knows about that. You can stay quiet, and they’ll lose interest after a while, but a creak in the floorboards gets them going again. Scott waves his bat at Cooper. “Come on.”
Darkness and The Grave: A Zombie Novel Page 38
