Seeing the woman’s fingers break like that made Chris uneasy about staying in Stephanie’s house. Thinking they are safe only to have a horde of the monsters sniff them out later. The zombies would pursue them with no less drive than this undead woman. He wouldn’t be able to cope with the idea that they were surrounded, having no way out of her home. The zombies would never tire, and never give up. It was something that he didn’t want to think about. He didn’t want to build his own coffin to die in. They needed to stay on the move. Maybe staying at her house was a bad idea.
“Let’s get the hell out of here, Chris!” Stephanie shoved him on the shoulder from the backseat.
A dozen undead creatures started closing in. Chris let up on the brake and picked up speed.
“We need to keep it drawn out for a minute. I want to make sure they follow us.” He honked the horn and then gave it some gas. Taking the lead, the car headed down the street past the gushing hydrant. The dead trailed behind.
One block later, they came to rest at a stop sign and waited. Looking in the rearview mirror, Chris watched, as nearly fifty ghouls came together in the street, heading right for the car. With arms raised, an eerie glow covered them in the brake’s red lights.
The plan appeared to be working. He turned the steering wheel and drove east, away from the house. Although hopeful, Chris was beginning to wonder if they would make it back undetected. They had drawn out more zombies than he had anticipated.
After several minutes, making an uneven circle, Chris stopped the car. “You guys ready to do this? It’s now or never, guys,” he said. “Just in case,” he breathed, snatching the keys from the ignition and shutting off the headlights. Chris Commons and his companions stepped out of the vehicle and into the shadows.
Chapter Four
Chris stood under the hot running water as it beat down from the showerhead. At his feet, red ran along the bathtub and down the drain from his body. His blood soaked clothes lay scattered across the bathroom’s tile floor. Chris hadn’t realized how strong the awful stench of putrid and dismembered flesh really was until getting into the shower. Although Coconut Splash wasn’t his choice in shampoo, Chris imagined it as a perfect fit for Stephanie. She reminded him of a tropical beauty with her tan skin, sun blonde hair, and almond shaped eyes. The hand lotion, facial cream and even the wet wipes by the sink had Island scents. This was definitely a girl’s only bathroom, which is why he was glad he had packed some of his own things. Constant touring kept him prepared. He never knew when he would get the next shower or at whose house he would end up crashing. Not only did his backpack always have two fresh pairs of underwear and a clean shirt, he also had soap and a toothbrush with Crest toothpaste; not to mention a few other grooming tools. The aroma of Irish Spring filled his nostrils, reminding him of those silly green soap bar commercials from the early 90’s. It was his favorite.
Chris started feeling paranoid during his rinse. The trip to Stephanie’s had been a success, but had they actually crept nearly three blocks unnoticed? Only time would tell. They made it to the house without sighting one zombie. After double-checking that the doors and windows were locked, they closed all of the blinds, agreeing it was best to keep a low profile. A few of the light fixtures had dimmer switches and were turned up just enough to avoid tripping hazards. The main goal was to remain as quiet as possible.
Chris didn’t much like the idea of making noise from running water in the shower, but he had no choice. He wasn’t about to spend the rest of his time on the run covered in his dead cousin’s blood. Steve was next and then probably Stephanie. That was bad for them, because the water was already starting to lose its warmth.
With the hot water entirely depleted, Chris reached down and turned off the shower. The pipes inside the wall groaned and screeched, making him feel a little uneasy. No way could that have been heard outside. It just seemed loud, because I’m right next to the pipes. Yeah, that’s it, he thought, stepping out of the shower.
As he searched for a towel his wet feet left wet tracks on the floor. The towel on top of the stack in the cabinet was hot pink and had a big chocolate cupcake printed in the middle. It made him smile. The bathroom cabinet was nice and tidy. The towels were separated not only by size, but by color as well. It wasn’t until then that he noticed the entire bathroom was that way. The various belongings on the sink’s counter were also arranged according to size and color. Chris made a mental note of this, wanting to see if Steve picked up on it later.
With a fresh shirt and underwear, Chris had no choice but to wear his old pants and socks. The blood stained jeans felt stiff and heavy. After brushing his teeth and combing his hair, he made his way into the living room.
Steve and Stephanie were sitting close on the couch. Stephanie held a school yearbook and both were pointing at pictures and laughing.
“Yep… that was me in the seventh grade,” she said with a grin.
“Man, you were a chubby little kid.”
“Hey!”
“Ha! Well, it’s true,” he smiled shoving her playfully.
“Shower’s free,” Chris said, walking up with his backpack sagging in one arm. “What are we looking at?”
“My yearbooks. Steve saw them on the shelf and just started pulling them out,” she said, and pointed across the room to a shelf full of color coordinated and neatly aligned books. “This is me when I was little,” she said, lifting the book for Chris to see.
“Cute,” he said. “Chubby, but cute.” He smiled at Steve having overheard the bug-eyed guy’s remark about her picture.
“You sure were in there a long time,” Steve said.
“Yeah, well it’s all yours now.” Chris rounded the long L-shaped couch, finding a seat across from Stephanie. Out of habit, he took out his laptop and turned it on. “Do you have Wi-Fi?”
“Yes, I do. It’s the only one that should pop up. None of my neighbors has it. Password’s cupcake in all caps.”
Remembering the towel in the bathroom, Chris smirked.
“Do you really think the net is still going to be up?" She shifted on the couch next to Steve.
“Why wouldn’t it? The power is still on, isn’t it? Just because the world seems to have fallen apart over the course of one day doesn’t mean the satellites are just going to fall from the sky.”
“Good point.”
“Hey, you should totally see what the word is on Sunday’s show, man.” Steve took off his glasses and cleaned them on his dirty shirt. “Got a few friends that said they would totally come. Going to be a big party after, I’m sure.”
“Dude, I totally doubt the show it still on. Last time I checked, the world kind of got taken over by zombies, or did you miss that? Not to mention, we are kind of missing a band member!”
Steve shrugged it off, pretending to go back to the yearbook. He seemed to lose himself in thought and Chris figured that Steve was probably still in denial about Mark’s death.
While waiting for the computer to boot, Chris looked around the room. Dark reds and grays unlike the bright girly bathroom accented the living room’s modern décor. Black and white photos set a certain mood. The large wraparound couch was black microfiber. The glass coffee table had a base made from a tree stump. It had feet carved to look like a lion’s paws. The room looked as if it would fit in a modern vampire thriller on the Sci-fi channel.
“I’ve got to admit, this is one of the coolest looking living rooms I’ve ever sat in. And that’s saying a lot, considering.”
“Considering?”
“Let’s just say I’ve been in a lot of houses.”
“I get it. The traveling music couch-surfers thing? I have… well, I had a few college friends kind of doing the same thing. Although, maybe, not as intense as you guys. You definitely don’t seem like you’re from around here and the creeper van kind of gives it away. I can spot a band a mile away. With that new venue across from where I work, I see a lot of music types come in from out of town. You guys tour a whole
lot or something?”
“Yep. Crashed in our share of living rooms over the years, but seriously, I really like what you’ve done with the place.”
“Thanks. I painted and decorated it myself. I want to be an interior designer. Going to college for it.” She shifted in her seat again trying to get comfortable. “Really haven’t done anything with the rest of the house though. School and work have kept me pretty busy.”
“Nice. I went to college for a hot minute,” Chris said, setting the computer aside. “I didn’t really care for it. Mostly my mom’s idea.”
“Chris is a mama’s boy for sure,” Steve cut in, while flipping through the pages of the yearbook.
Ignoring him, Chris continued. “I was going for business management and marketing. Lasted like two semesters I think.”
“Really? Why’d you drop out?”
“Just didn’t feel the need. Everything they were teaching was already way outdated. By the time I got the degree, the information would have been a total bust. Not like college is worth a damn now, though.” Chris glanced at the window. “A lot has probably lost its value already.”
“Yeah,” she agreed with an emphatic sigh. “It totally sucks, because I was literally like three credits away from finishing.”
“Dang.” Chris lifted an eyebrow, impressed. “A four year or the two year?” he asked.
Before she could answer, Steve interrupted. “I’m getting in the shower. You two are boring the hell out of me.” He stood up from the couch, set the yearbook down, and quietly left the room.
Chris left his seat and walked over to the window. “You’ll have to excuse Steve. He doesn’t understand what it feels like to work for something.”
The window overlooked the front yard. He pulled the curtain away enough to look out with one eye. The streetlights lit the dead-end road dimly. Way off in the distance, the fire hydrant continued gushing water into the air. He could see a few of the undead wandering aimlessly in the distance. Had his plan not worked, the dead would have surely made their way back to the house by now. He felt relieved. As long as they stayed hidden, they might have a chance.
He thought of his parents, hoping like hell that they had found a way to survive too. He imagined them safely locked away at home in Tennessee, and hoped they were thinking of him and his safety. He wanted to talk to them so badly; he wanted to go home.
Over the last several years, home had been mostly just a memory. He missed out on many family events. His mom and dad’s thirtieth anniversary, both of their retirement parties, and even last Thanksgiving’s family reunion, which only happened once every four years. He wished he could relive it all over and spend more time with them rather than being on tour so much. He loved music and the road, but now felt like he had missed out on what really mattered.
“Four.”
“What?”
“It was the four year degree, not the two year program,” Stephanie said.
“Man, that does suck.” Chris stepped away from the window and made his way around the room looking at the family photos and various art pieces that hung among them. “Is this one you?” Chris pointed to a young lady and an older man dressed up from the Civil War era. The man wore a confederate soldier uniform and carried a sword. The young lady stood wearing a long puffed out dress with lots of frill and lace. Chris had seen pictures like those before. It was a gimmick used to sell photos at carnivals and theme parks. Chris had never taken one himself, but realized that it would make a pretty solid promo photo for the band. Mark and Steve had shot the idea down.
“Yeah. That’s me and my dad.” Stephanie shifted awkwardly on the couch, but Chris didn’t notice.
“Dude, he looks freaking old as crap,” Chris chuckled. “Old enough to be your granddad. That’s crazy!”
“He’s dead,” she said in a low voice.
The room filled with an awkward silence. Chris pretended to be interested in the other pictures and moved about the room. Most pictures were of Stephanie and her friends. An occasional childhood photo of her and her old man were mixed in, but Chris didn’t see any that might contain her mother. The tension was so thick that he wasn’t sure what to say. He felt like such a jackass.
After a few quiet minutes, she finally broke the ice. “It’s not your fault. Everybody thought he was my grandpa. He died when I was seventeen.”
“Man . . . what happened?”
“He died of old age, actually. He was seventy-six. That’s not old-old, but it was his time, I guess.”
“And your mom?” Chris made his way back to the couch.
“Died giving birth to me. My dad said I was his little miracle.”
“Holy crap,” Chris said softly. “That would have made your mom like sixty something when she had you, right?”
“She was quite a bit younger than my dad, but she was up there in age for someone to be popping out babies. My dad said her body was too weak and frail for the delivery. I never met my mom. I don’t even have any pictures. Before I was old enough to remember . . . my dad . . . got rid of them all, because they made him sad to look at her.”
“Wow, that’s pretty wild. At least, you ended up doing well for yourself despite all of that,” Chris said gesturing at the house around them.
“It was my parent’s. I grew up here, and was even born in this house. I inherited it when my dad passed away. He said that I should keep it and raise my family here too.” Her eyes grew wide and they filled with tears.
“Well, your dad sure sounds like he was a great person. Wish I could have met him. Is that what you wanted to do, raise a family here?”
“He was definitely something and honestly, I don’t know if I want to raise my family here. Traveling seems fun,” she said wiping away her tears.
Chris sat down and told Stephanie a few exciting stories about his travels and some of the crazy people he had met along the way. The mood lifted again. Stephanie seemed to bury her emotions as she had probably managed to do for all of her life. Chris couldn’t imagine not knowing his mother; let alone not knowing what she looked like. That just made him think about his mom more, and about the things he loved about her. She made the best homemade pizza, had the loudest laugh, and was so easy to pick on that he couldn’t leave her alone. He could never imagine a life without her. He felt sorry for Stephanie and wondered if she even had anyone left to call family. It didn’t look that way.
“Would you like something to drink?” Stephanie asked.
“Yes, please. We might as well figure out the sleeping arrangements, too. It’s got to be getting super late.” Chris picked up his computer to give the password a try. It still showed a wireless signal was available.
Stephanie left the living room and headed off into the kitchen. Chris wondered how long it would be before the power would go out. The password for the internet worked, but just like the cellphone, which still had full bars, nothing was happening. The internet was done. Chris couldn’t help but imagine what it must have been like to book tours back before the internet. Must have been way more work than it was worth. All the phone calls and going to shows just for the sake of networking. Setting dates was now just point and click. First come, first serve, but all that was at its end. There would be no more touring, and no more booking or online networking, just survival. He wondered if the National Guard or someone would show up and eventually clean all of this crap up. Out of frustration, he slammed the laptop shut and then put it in his pack.
“Internet not working?” Stephanie stepped back into the room with two drinks on ice.
“No go…”
“Well, that’s lame. What did you need it for anyway? Not like people have a lot of free time right now to just be surfing the web and chatting the latest gossip. Although, I am pretty eager to know if Sheila, from my work, ended up getting with that guy the other night.”
“I know.” Chris stared down at his lap with a deep sigh. “Just hoping to get hold of my parents. That, and maybe find out what else is goi
ng on out there. People have to be alive. Someone has to. If we made it, there are others. I think we would be smart to find out what’s going on around us.”
“You’re thinking about going after them. Am I right?”
“Who? My parents?” Chris finally looked up from his lap. Stephanie reached out, handing him iced tea. “Well, yeah, it has crossed my mind. But it’s not like they’re just right up the road. And I couldn’t ask Steve or you to trek all the way to Tennessee with me risking your lives like that.”
“But what about his parents? Wouldn’t he want to find them or something?” Stephanie’s eyes grew curious.
“Between you and me, I honestly doubt it. Steve’s a great guy. Been my best friend since I can remember, but he is pretty self-centered. In the three years that we’ve spent on tour, I think he has spoken to his folks once or twice. And one of those times was to ask for money to get the tour van fixed.”
“But he’s you’re best friend. Friends are supposed to stick it out together,” she said.
“You would think. Anyway, I’m sure he’s a little preoccupied with his own goals right now,” Chris said, and gave her a wink.
She understood, and reared back in laughter, almost spilling her tea. “Ha! No chance in hell.”
“Not a chance it hell for what,” Steve said, as he walked in wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. He poked his finger in his ear to plunge out trapped water. His long hair was slicked back and it made his optical lenses appear twice as large on his thin face.
Stephanie held back her laughter and focused her gaze on Chris. A big grin grew on her blushing cheeks.
Chris just smiled and lifted his drink in the air. “Stephanie makes a mean glass of tea. You should get one.”
“Hell yeah, I’ll take one,” Steve said, as he sat beside Stephanie. Finally, pulling his finger from his ear, he said, “So, what about hell and why is there no chance?” He kicked his legs up on the coffee table.
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