by J. B. Havens
Scrambling out, they did as I commanded. Heading in every direction, the dead ones stumbled off, following their noses toward food. Guilt hit me momentarily, but I brushed it aside. If anyone deserved to die, it was the sick freaks in this facility. Not wanting to take the time to break any more rooms open, I ran down the hallway. I could smell fresh air now.
Following the hall, it twisted and turned randomly until I was turned around and unsure of my direction. My newfound powers kicked in and I followed my nose toward the fresh air I’d smelled earlier. At the end of the hall was a steel door, it looked the same as the one from my room. No knob, just a small window and a camera in the corner. I could hear screaming now, the zombies doing their job. Gunfire exploded in the distance. A battle raged, but in the opposite direction from where I was headed.
Waving the key card at the door, I was shocked when it opened. Maybe the nurse just didn’t have clearance for the holding cells? Listening carefully before opening the door, I didn’t hear anything. I swung it open flush against the wall. What I saw behind the door halted my forward momentum.
“Kelle?” I muttered.
The girl was drenched in blood and what I could see of her skin was grey like mine. All vestiges of the young girl I’d known were gone. She must have fed also, her muscles strained against the confines of her skin. Her eyes were the most disturbing addition, blazing red with no whites remaining. To say that they freaked me out was putting it mildly.
“This is your fault,” she hissed. Her voice was strange, deep and crackly. Nothing like what I remembered from the store.
“I didn’t do this. Let’s leave here, together.” Stepping carefully, I advanced toward her.
“Only one of us will be leaving,” she replied.
She had a baton in her right hand and blood dripped off the end to land in thick splats on the tile. She grinned, exposing bloodstained teeth before letting loose a scream that could only be called a war cry. Then, she ran straight at me.
Her smaller body smashed into mine, knocking me back against the wall. She brought the baton down, aiming for my face and head. Catching her arm, my arm shook with the effort of keeping her off me. It seemed that she’d inherited super strength also.
“Kelle. Stop.” I gained some leverage and shoved her back through the doorway. I flung the huge door closed, trapping her on the other side. Screaming, she beat on the door, the impressions of her fists denting the metal.
“Fuck me.” I turned and ran.
Hurrying through a series of more doors, the fresh air became stronger. “Almost out. Keep going.” Arriving at a large, vault-like door with flashing red lights above it, I knew I’d found the exit. Spinning the handle, I heard the locks disengaging and clicking inside it.
Grunting, I pushed the heavy door open. Bright sunlight streamed in, stinging my eyes and forcing the tears to flow. I pushed the door shut behind me and turned the wheel until I heard the locks click back into place. I had to keep it from opening again. Kelle was still in there and would get free eventually. Not to mention the dozens of zombies inside. Grabbing the wheel with both hands, I pulled it down, breaking off the handle. Inside the wheel would spin, but with nothing to counter it, the locks would not release. Or at least, that was my hope.
Shading my face, I ran out into a field. I wasn’t in a bunker under some city, I was right back in the middle of nowhere. There were trees as far as I could see in every direction. Snow crunched under my bare feet, but I felt no cold.
My skin was on fire, I had to get out of the sun. Now I knew why the undead rarely came out during the day. The light was painful to their sensitive eyes and skin. I didn’t think it would kill me, but it was like being cooked slowly. Odd considering it was no doubt hovering near freezing temperatures right now. So much for my theory of the cold bothering the dead.
Sprinting for the trees, I was full of energy, feeling like I could run flat out for hours. Once I reached the shade of the forest, the feeling intensified. The oaks and maples around me held onto just enough of their leaves to offer some relief from the sun, weak though it was in the winter.
“Gotta find shelter, and then figure out what the fuck happened,” I mumbled to myself. The sound of my own voice comforting in the otherwise silent forest.
My feet pounded through the snow and ice on the forest floor, I didn’t bother to be quiet or hide myself. I was no longer afraid of the undead. It seemed I was, in fact, one of them. I would need to be careful of humans, however. They’d see me and try to kill me on sight. Rightfully so. I didn’t think any of them would wait to let me explain that I was different and wouldn’t eat them.
Thoughts flew through my head as I sprinted. They were a jumbled mess of questions that were impossible to answer. Why did this happen to me? How? There wasn’t anything special about the zombie that had turned me, was the virus evolving? Obviously there were more Alphas like me, only I was stronger than they were. Kelle was changed, not herself at all. Whereas I felt more or less the same mentally. As long as you disregard the desire to eat long pig—otherwise known as ‘human’.
Unable to reach any conclusions, I attempted to shut off my brain and just run. The sounds around me became my only thoughts. A deer in the distance, startled by me, bounded away with its white tail high in the air. The chittering of squirrels in the trees above, mingled with the sounds of birds swooping in the air and chirping. I felt every leaf beneath my bare feet, every twig that snapped and crunched. I should be in agony, with bloody, ripped feet and falling down in exhaustion. I could keep going for days if I wanted.
I let go of the questions and put as much distance between myself and that bunker as I could. There would no doubt be a back exit and I needed to be as far away as possible on the off chance that someone began to pursue me. I didn’t know what I was or what sort of creature I was becoming. What I did know was that I would fight to the death before I allowed them to turn me into a science experiment.
Chapter Nine
I don’t know how many miles I’d travelled. I’d been running full out nearly all day. The sun was setting behind the trees in a blazing show of colors. Even the sunset seemed more beautiful to me now.
Another clearing opened up through the trees about four hundred yards ahead. Settled in the small open space was a farmhouse. The windows were boarded up and nothing moved. If it was occupied, I’d have a fight on my hands, but I needed supplies. Better clothes for one. The white scrubs I wore now would be a beacon in the dark.
Skirting the clearing, I circled the property, looking for any sign that people were living there. No tracks marred the perfect snow surrounding the building. There was nothing to indicate that anyone had been here in years. I just hoped that there would be something inside I could use. Sunglasses would be amazing.
Listening carefully, I crept slowly toward the house. I heard nothing but the normal sounds of the forest around me. The peeling white paint and cracked, sagging porch told its own story of neglect.
Carefully stepping up onto the steps, I hoped they would hold when they creaked ominously. “Well, if this isn’t like every horror movie ever…” The thought gave me pause when I realized that I was the monster now, not the would-be heroine.
The rusty doorknob turned with a squeal and dust flew around in the air as I pushed the door open. Outdated and mostly broken furniture littered the room. Beer bottles, cigarette butts, and condom wrappers showed the house’s purpose, long before the dead walked.
“Well, at least the kiddies used protection.” Relaxing, I explored the house, finding much of the same in each room. Smashed bottles, graffiti, and evidence of parties.
Heading up the stairs, my bare feet left tracks in the dust. The first room I opened was the bathroom. Thankfully enough time had passed that the smell was gone but that did nothing for the sight of it.
I tried another door. Faded white lace and ruffles greeted me. “Sweet. Girl’s room.” Ignoring the bed and the leavings from a long ago party, I headed right for the clos
et. Popping open the doors, I found clothes of every color hanging neatly where their original owner had left them. They were mostly circa 1980 but it would have to do. Black jeans with a grey shirt and black jacket would work just fine. Stripping and changing, I found some shoes. Close enough to my size, maybe a little big but they would do until I found different ones.
A small vanity was tucked into a corner near the bed, pulling out the little stool, I sat. My reflection was blurry through the grime coating the mirror, a few swipes with my old shirt took care of that. The face looking back at me was that of a stranger. My eyes had huge pupils that were reflective like an animal. The grey iris’s now rimmed with a red circle. Kelle’s had been all red, with no other color left. What did that mean? My hair was much the same, but my skin…
Touching my cheek, I felt the softness that hadn’t changed. It was the color that turned my stomach. To say that it was ashen didn’t cover it. If I laid down naked in a spent fire pit, I would be completely camouflaged. My blue lips were left over from when I turned, same as the blue fingernails. I was me, but not me, at the same time.
“So fucking weird.” No longer able to stand my reflection, I stripped off the top cover of the bed. “Do I need to sleep?” Dust flew into the air as I tossed the moth eaten blanket aside. The sheets underneath were crinkly with age and spotted with stains, but otherwise intact.
Barf
“Just ignore it. Pretend you’re in a sleazy motel somewhere.” I laid down and let my muscles relax into the mattress.
I didn’t so much fall asleep as stop being awake. My eyes shut and a black void enveloped me.
Chapter Ten
The house was run down and beat up. No doubt empty for years. He didn’t like it, but with nighttime here and heavy grey clouds threatening more snow he needed to take shelter where he could find it. Ethan St. Claire hurried up the stairs, the darkness concealing the tracks in the snow.
Opening the door, he crept inside quietly before softly shutting it behind him. Disregarding the mess of partying kids, he stalked through the lower level on silent feet. His only weapon was a Bowie knife which he kept out and ready for a downward strike. Glancing up the stairs, he saw bare footprints in the dust. Dreading what was to come, he tightened his grip and headed up the steps.
The threadbare carpet under his feet did little to muffle the thuds of his boots. Wincing at the noise, he reached the top landing and a long narrow hallway stretched out before him. Faded white curtains with large holes in the fabric covered a small window at the end of the hall, letting in an eerie glow from the reflection of the moonlight off the snow. Strange shadows twisted along the floor as the curtains fluttered in a draft.
Shrugging his broad shoulders to settle his pack more comfortably, he opened the first door on the left.
There was a figure on the bed.
****
Something woke me, a noise or rustle of fabric maybe. Remaining perfectly still, I waited, hoping it was my imagination playing tricks on me. Keeping my eyes closed and holding my breath the click of the door opening was all the confirmation I needed. Someone was here. I could hear his heart beating and the scent of his body odor was distinctly that of a man.
He stepped closer to the bed and my time was up. The dark would hide my skin from a distance but not if he was right on top of me.
“Don’t,” I spoke, hoping it would throw him. Opening my eyes, I surveyed his features. Alarmingly tall, the man was dressed in a heavy jacket with the straps of a backpack over his shoulders. I didn’t notice much else because the long knife held all my attention. “I’ll go. You can have the house. No need for the knife.”
Moving to sit up, I stopped short when he quickly moved forward. Sitting up put my face right in line with the small amount of light from the window. A shaft of weak light struck me directly in the eyes, making me blink and cringe in pain.
“The fuck?” His tone matching the shock on his face. “What are you?” Fear sharpened his voice and I knew he could see my grey skin and red eyes.
“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t know? I swear, I won’t hurt you.” I figured I could probably heal whatever wound he inflicted, but healing took energy and I would need to replenish it. I didn’t want to be forced to feed on him. He was just a survivor, like me, trying to make his way in this fucked up world.
“You look like a zombie, but the dead don’t speak. Tell me what you are!” Forgetting himself and shouting showed just how deep his fear and confusion went. Adjusting his stance, he towered over me, ready at any second to sink that huge blade deep into my head.
“I-I am a zombie.” In a flash of movement, he had me by the throat. I could break his arm and feed it to him, but I didn’t want to do that. “Listen. If I was going to eat you, don’t you think I would’ve attacked when I heard you on the stairs? I could have jumped you and you’d be bleeding out on this shitty carpet.”
“Why didn’t you then? Huh?” he growled in my face, shaking me. “If you’re one of them… I should kill you and keep you from making more like you.”
“Then do it.” I let my hands drop off his wrists onto the pillow.
The moonlight highlighted his profile for a moment. He was handsome and could have easily graced the cover of a fashion magazine. A lock of deep auburn hair fell over his forehead, covering his furrowed brow. Thick stubble covered his cheeks and even chapped, his lips were full and red.
“Well? What are you waiting for? Cut my throat or slam that big knife into my skull. I couldn’t make this any easier if I was doing it for you.”
His eyes met mine, they were the color of dark honey, thick and sweet. Fear overshadowed his other emotions, but hiding in the depths was curiosity.
“I’m going to let you go. If you try to attack me, you better make sure you do a good job of it because otherwise I’ll kill you with my dying breath.” Cautiously and ever so slowly, he slid his big palm off my throat. If I had to breathe like a normal person, I’d be gasping for air.
“Sorry to disappoint you, big guy, but you’re not my type.” I wasn’t allowed a type anymore, being dead kind of emptied the dating pool.
“Do you have a name?” he asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest and staring me down. He was blatantly suspicious—which was pretty freaking understandable considering the circumstances.
His question took me by surprise. From near death to small talk in the space of a second. “Sure. Do you?” Sitting up, I swung my legs off the side of the bed.
“Ethan. I’m Ethan St. Claire.”
“I’m Molly Everett, the talking zombie. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Smiling as big as I could, I tried to be reassuring, but he looked pretty freaked out. I guess he was entitled; I would have been too, if the roles were reversed. “Chill. It’s fine. I’m new to this too.”
“This is so wrong on so many levels.”
He rubbed his forehead with his free hand, no doubt feeling a headache coming on just from the strangeness of it all. Just when you think the apocalypse can’t get much worse, the zombies start talking. “I couldn’t agree more.”
It felt better than it should to have a normal conversation, well, what passed for normal for me these days. Talking to a psychotic doctor and some weird robot sounding voice didn’t count as conversation, and before that it was just Kelle, which was mostly yelling. “Here I thought I’d punched my ticket, and gone off to the great buffet. But then I woke up like this, just as confused as you are now.”
“I need a minute,” he said, giving me the classic ‘talk to the hand’ gesture as he left the room.
“Well, just because I’m dead doesn’t mean you have to be rude!”
The slamming of the door was my answer.
Chapter Eleven
A zombie? That talks?
“What the fuck?” Pacing the hallway, Ethan tried to decide what to do. A glance out the window told him enough, he couldn’t leave in this storm. The white crap was falling fast and thick, adding
to the few inches that had already covered the ground.
He should be in there chopping her head off. But killing her was very different from killing zombies. They didn’t talk. They just made their way through the world looking for their next meal. Killing that thing, Molly, would be too much like killing a person. Somehow, he’d managed to survive this long without killing people. Violence was an everyday necessity now, but that didn’t mean that he was going to give up the last slice of his humanity.
With his decision made, he went back into the bedroom. He didn’t speak to her while he pulled out a few candles from his pack and set them around the room before lighting them. The soft yellow flames flickered and danced in the drafty house. It was a risk, but not a huge one. The light wouldn’t travel too far in the storm outside.
“Come into the light,” he said. “I want a better idea of what I’m dealing with.”
Using one greyish colored hand to block the light from her face, Molly squinted and dropped her hand. “Make it quick, the light hurts my eyes.”
Black hair hung in waves to just past her chin. She was short, he decided, the top of her head didn’t quite reach his shoulder, but her physique was surprising. Muscles rippled under her skin, easily seen through her clothing. It was disconcerting and more than a little strange. Bodybuilders worked half their lives and didn’t look even a fraction as cut up as she did.
“How strong are you?” It was sheer, perverse curiosity that made him ask.
Shrugging, she looked around the room. The bed frame was an iron four poster. Grabbing the nearest corner with both hands, she braced her legs, and pulled the post down; neatly bending it in half. “Pretty much a girl version of Hulk over here.”
“What are you?” he asked, repeating his earlier question. He knew he sounded like a broken record, but he couldn’t help himself; he was dumbfounded. The evidence was literally staring him in the face. She was a talking, self-aware zombie. As if the apocalypse wasn’t bad enough already…
