Dying Days 2

by Armand Rosamilia

  With his back threatening to pop, Frank bent down and lifted the zombie to its feet. The mindless creature began to shuffle away without a notice to Frank or the help.

  Frank moved behind him and wrapped both arms around its neck, crushing the unused windpipe and yanking as hard as he could, trying to dislodge the head from the body. He struggled for several minutes before stopping. The zombie didn't fight back; its feet still trying to propel it forward.

  Finally, the head snapped back and the zombie went lifeless. Frank dropped it to the beach. One less to contend with. The beach was filled with them.

  Claudia.

  His wife's name was Claudia, and he'd met her online. In a chat-room. They'd talked and had webcam dates for months before she flew from Sweden for a visit. She never really left, moving in with him, getting a job at the local daycare, and only returning to Sweden to pack her things and for family emergencies. They'd been wed six months later, a small ceremony attended by friends and family. Their honeymoon was spent in Florida, a week holed up in a hotel room making love while the sound of the waves crashed outside their balcony.

  Frank knew he wasn't in Montreal, and he wanted to find his wife. Or did he? She would try to feed off the living as well, and once the stock was gone, he knew he would become a dried husk. He needed the living.

  Another zombie got too close and Frank twisted its neck until he heard the snap. These creatures had no fresh blood he could use, but they needed to be eliminated.

  Frank trudged down the beach, weaving back and forth as he came across new undead, breaking necks with wild abandon and feeling better and better as he did, using muscles he'd not used in a long time.

  There was a pier up ahead and he made his way to it, dropping bodies as he moved from side to side. He went to the dunes and snapped the neck of a little girl, bloody and carrying a small yellow shovel. Two men came out of the surf and he made his way to them. They didn't resist or seem to notice him. He dispatched both, feeling his atrophied muscles seeming to come back to life.

  By the time he made his way up to the boardwalk and onto the pier, he was grinning, which hurt, but not as much as he thought it would.

  He could read the signs around him, as his bare feet slapped on the warped wooden boards. The large building, at the mouth of the pier, was a restaurant. Frank thought he'd seen it before, and knew Claudia was in the car with him. A rental car. His honeymoon?

  The sign painted on top of the building said FLAGLER BEACH.

  Where he'd spent his honeymoon. In Florida.

  Frank had walked about 1,400 miles. How long would that take?

  His nostrils expanded and he took in some of the fresh salt air. A zombie walked right up to him before veering to his left. Frank broke another neck.

  He began moving north on A1A, sure this was the direction he'd gone when he was here with Claudia. He needed a place to stay and recover. He could feel his body struggling to survive and grow now. His wounds would heal and his blood would begin flowing again. Frank just knew it. Would he be able to pass for human? Would he be able to get close to them without being destroyed? His mind was filling with memories and thoughts and overloading.

  He needed time to process everything in his head, and form a game plan.

  The streets weren't crowded with zombies but there were enough of them. He knew it was pointless to wander and try to kill every single one of them, but if he didn't they would eventually gain consciousness and try to destroy him. He'd been one of the first. He had no idea how many more, from the initial wave of attacks, were still out there, and if they were plotting as well. He couldn't take the chance.

  He stopped, the hot pavement burning his feet. He didn't actually feel the pain but it was instinctive to him. His feet were black with grime and the bottoms were probably flayed of skin. It would grow. He needed to find shoes to wear.

  Across the street was an abandoned restaurant with a wooden walkway leading to its front door. Java Joint. It was a coffee place, the windows blown out. Frank decided he would stay there, out of the sun and away from any of the living. He would gain strength and destroy any zombies who got too close.

  He would begin to plot his next move. But, first, he needed to find a good pair of Nikes. And a living person so he could bathe in its blood.

  Chapter One

  "If I hit the next three in a row, you owe me a kiss," John Murphy said to Darlene Bobich. "Deal?"

  "Fine. But I get to pick the targets."

  John shook his head. "No way. You'll see a zombie out in the middle of the damn ocean and point him out. It has to be in range and fair."

  Darlene smiled. By now, he knew all her tricks. She walked to the side and looked down at the multitude of undead wandering the dunes, underneath her stilt house, and on A1A. She pointed out three zombies in the distance but still in range of his crossbow. "Hit all three and I will give you a kiss."

  John smiled. "I'm hoping for a big, sloppy kiss. Not some lame peck on the cheek."

  Darlene blushed and looked away. Even though they'd been playing this game for a long time, they still hadn't done anything about it. Each day the flirting got more intense, the sexual innuendos more pronounced, and she caught him staring at her and smiling when he thought she wasn't noticing.

  And she stared at him. Constantly. Since coming back from St. Augustine, things had changed between them. They were even more awkward, in fact. Darlene wanted him and she knew he felt the same, but there was something holding them back. It wasn't the thought of his wife out there, still alive, somewhere. Darlene had overheard John and Murph, his dad, talking about it the other night.

  "You don't want to hear it, son, but she's gone. If she isn't, there's no way she'll find you down here. I loved her like a daughter, but there comes a time in a man's life when he needs not dwell on the past and what might happen. You have a great girl right here, and you know you can't afford to waste anymore time," Murph had said.

  "I know. I really like Darlene. Shit, I'm in love with her. But it still feels like cheating. I love being with her, love everything about her. Yet… if I commit to us, it will feel like I let my marriage go. The commitment we had."

  "There are no more laws."

  "There is for me, pop. There's still a God above us, and he still wants us to obey him. You know my marriage vows are still in my heart."

  "I thought I raised you better than that," Murph said with a snort. "All law-abiding. It makes your rebel old man sick. But I get you. More than you think. But don't let her get away from you, because Darlene is special. She won't always be here. Someday, she's going to get sick of this game you two play, or head back to Maine and home, or find another man."

  "Better than me? I doubt it."

  "Shit, boy, you better make your move. If this old man finds some little blue pills in one of these raids, I'll be giving you a run for your money with her."

  "First one gone. Are you even paying attention?" John said to her, bringing her back to the present. "I'm not falling for your lame tricks. If I hit them, they count."

  "Whatever. Big baby."

  The second one was dropped with little effort. John puckered his lips. "Wet your whistle, because the John John train is about to pull into the station.

  "Dork."

  John leaned against the railing and aimed the crossbow. "The one with the blue shirt, right?"

  Darlene came up next to him. "Yes."

  "Get ready to kiss me."

  Darlene slid a hand between the rail and his jeans and lightly stroked his crotch with two fingers.

  The shot went wide, disappearing into the dunes.

  "No way, I get a do-over!" John cried.

  "Do-over? Are you five?"

  "You know you can't do that." John shook his head. "I get another chance."

  "Nope." Darlene puckered her lips and blew him a kiss. "This is as close as you're getting, John John."

  "You don't play well with others."

  "I never said I did. And you
lost. How are you going to survive in this cold, dark world? You let a little thing like that distract you. Thankfully, it isn't a life or death situation, or you'd be a zombie. And I'd get to shoot you in the head."

  "I love it when you talk dirty. I want a rematch."

  "Maybe next time." Darlene lifted her tanned face to the sun and put her hands on her hips. She'd been gaining back a few pounds since their return. She didn't think she'd ever be the overweight girl she was when this all started, but she wanted some of her curves back. She'd replaced some fat with muscle, and probably weighed more. But she was getting solid. And she knew John was responding to her.

  But she didn't want to rock the boat. If he was still in love with his wife, she didn't want to come between them. And she knew a kiss might lead to so much more, in the blink of an eye. She wanted it, but didn't want to be the reason he did something regrettable. It was better to have the fantasy with him. To flirt every day, have his back when they hunted and be good friends. But it was starting to strain their relationship. She knew John was fighting a constant war inside his head about her.

  "You know I would've made that shot. No problem."

  "Yet, you had a problem making the shot. Weird."

  "Someday…"

  Darlene laughed. "Someday might never come, you know. You're so Charlie Brown to my Lucy. I keep pulling the football away. You'll never learn, will you?"

  John was trying not to laugh. "Tomorrow, we'll do it again, only I'll get Eric over here to hold you back."

  "And then I'll flash my boobs at you or show you my thong, and you'll probably shoot Eric in the foot."

  "Probably."

  "Besides, you're forgetting the most important part of your loss."

  "What?"

  "I grabbed your dick."

  John blushed and looked away. "I didn't forget. It's just… I guess I lost but really won."

  "I'd like to think so." Darlene opened the door to her stilt house. "I'm going to make coffee. Want some?"

  "Sure. I'll be in. Give me a minute."

  "I will bring your cup out. We can sit out here. If you look far enough out to sea, you can't see zombies looking to eat you. It makes for a pleasant way to enjoy coffee. I might even have something to snack on."

  "I'll set the chairs up." John was smiling at her.

  "What's that look for?"

  "Nothing." He turned away again. "Just glad to have met you."

  Darlene walked up to him and put a hand on his arm. "Same here. I can't imagine going this alone."

  "I know I keep sending you mixed signals, and I'm sorry. You have to know I want to be with you. But I can't right now."

  "Shh." Darlene put a finger up to his lips and, suddenly, wanted him to kiss it, but knew it would be wrong. "You don't have to explain a damn thing to me. Let's just kill the rest of this afternoon sipping coffee and pretending there's a future for all of us."

  "Alright."

  Darlene leaned in, suddenly, and kissed his cheek. "I cheated, so you get the kiss."

  "I'll take it."

  Darlene pulled away before she really kissed him. She was excited just being this close to him. "Coffee coming right up."

  Chapter Two

  Eric White took the binoculars back from Chris Gray. "Anything?"

  "Nothing," Chris said.

  "I don't get it." Eric scanned the beach, the pier and A1A. There were no zombies in sight. He'd been quite proud of all the traps, pits and fences he'd constructed in this stretch of Flagler Beach. But he couldn't block the ocean off completely, and they'd seen more and more undead being swept in from the water and deposited here.

  "Two weeks ago we took out a dozen of them." Eric looked around.

  "Maybe they moved on?"

  Eric glanced at Chris, seated next to him on the dune buggy. He disliked the guy. Everyone thought he was creepy, and he was. He lived in the furthest stilt house and kept to himself. The only reason he was out here, helping, was because Darlene had forced him to. Otherwise, he'd ignore everyone until he ran out of something.

  "We'll check the pier." Eric drove the dune buggy up A1A, keeping his eye out for an ambush. Not that these mindless creatures were capable of setting a trap, but they could be just over the next dune, hundreds of them, swarming and, now, attracted to the roar of the engine.

  When Eric pulled into a parking spot, he wasn't surprised to see no zombies loitering. But the neat stack of bodies placed under the pier shocked him.

  Chris saw it as well, and hopped off with his baseball bat and rifle.

  Eric looked around, expecting to see a sniper on the roof of Finn’s, the corner restaurant, or movement across the street at Veteran's Park. But it was quiet.

  "Are we going down there?" Chris asked. He clearly didn't want to.

  "We need to ascertain what's going on, so we can report back. Come on, and keep your eyes open. By the look from here, I'd say we have living company in the area."

  They went down the steps to the beach.

  "Why spend time piling up the dead?"

  "Maybe there is a large group and they want to make this a safe haven. Who knows? I just hope they want to talk first and do not try to shoot us." Eric pulled his 9mm. "Move away from me, so they won't have a shot at both of us at the same time."

  "The bodies?"

  "No, whoever did this." Eric was going to have a word with Darlene when he got back about not pairing with this kid again. He was arrogant, lazy and thought he was in charge half the time.

  Eric took three steps down the stairs to the beach when the smell of decay and rot overwhelmed him and he gagged.

  "Suck it up, old man," Chris said with a laugh, but his eyes were watering. "Ain't you ever smelled bad pussy? It kinda stinks like this."

  Eric hopped down the last few steps, more to get away from Chris than to reach the bottom. He was about to yell at the kid for being such an idiot when the sheer volume of what he was seeing hit him.

  Under the pier and stacked in even rows were bodies, piled three high and running for about fifty feet in length. But, under the boardwalk itself were more of the dead. They were piled two high, three rows deep, and ran in either direction for hundreds of feet.

  "Shit," Chris said.

  Eric had to agree. He started counting and figured out a rough estimate. "I'm going to say three thousand bodies, maybe more."

  "That's a lot of dead. No wonder we aren't seeing any in the area. They've all been killed." Chris smiled. "This is good, right?"

  Eric shrugged, covering his mouth and nose. "I hope so. But this means a large group is in the area and cleaning house. I just hope they are friendly, and, if they head in our direction, we spot them before they spot us."

  "Should we try to locate them? They have to be here and close."

  "No. Not until I talk to Murph and Griff. I don't want to stir up a band, especially if they are nomads and will move on. This isn't a good thing, because supplies are already picked clean in Flagler Beach and Palm Coast. I'd hate to think a large group is around and fighting for the same scraps we are, and moving like locusts."

  Chris moved his lips to answer but puked instead.

  "We need to get back up top. I can only imagine the disease festering with all these bodies. Hopefully, they move along and we can start burying the dead." Eric jogged up the steps and scanned the buildings on A1A. He wondered if they were being watched.

  Chris came up behind him. "Now what? Do we head up 100 into Palm Coast?"

  "No. We report back. We need to figure out what we're doing. You ready to ride?"

  "Sure. I need to get back, anyway."

  "Busy? Jerry Springer on TV?"

  "Nope." Chris looked up into the sun. "I'm not a big fan of this heat, especially when you have air conditioning and cold water in the fridge. You can report back to Darlene and the others, but I'm going to take a nap."

  "You're quite the team player."

  Chris smiled. "I try."

  Eric bit his tongue and de
cided to have the talk with the others about Chris. He was glad he wouldn't be at the upcoming report meeting. The kid was an idiot. "Keep an eye out for people in the buildings and on the roofs."

  The dune buggy was started and they pulled away from the Flagler Beach pier and headed north. Eric kept to the center of the two-lane road and kept it slow and steady. The last thing he wanted to do was run right into a walking zombie or be going too fast to turn away and crash.

  Eric glanced at the Golden Lion, on his left. In better days, the restaurant was probably packed with customers eating fish and chips, having fruity drinks and enjoying the bright sunshine on the top deck. Now, it was filled with sand, the paint peeling and the tiki bar imploded. This far south, it was only used as a storage place. Eric pulled over.

  "What are we doing?" Chris asked.

  "I want to see if the stores have been taken from here. Come on, and bring the shotgun."

  They stepped over a crumbling wooden booth. Eric looked up at the marquee of a regal lion with sunglasses and sighed. Such a shame. "Follow a few feet behind me. Shoot anything that moves, but don't do anything stupid."

  Chris didn't comment, which was a rarity. Usually, he had some lame remark.

  Eric didn't see new footprints in the sand covering the floors, but the wind was blowing through the open areas and most of them would be wiped away quickly.

  Toward the back of the Golden Lion was a raw oyster bar, where they'd packed items they didn't immediately need but could be used in a pinch, like camping supplies, tents, furniture, motor oil, and lawn equipment. You never knew what you were going to need, and as items were destroyed, broken or ran out of their usefulness, they couldn't be easily replaced.

  Eric used his key to unlock the Master padlock on the door. Anyone with a foot could kick the door in, but Eric insisted on the extra precaution anyway. Everything was safe inside, items piled high.

  "Look," Chris said. He was pointing at some footprints around the door.

  "Barefoot," Eric said. "Might be a zombie, but they aren't necessarily fresh." Eric looked up. "The bar could've just blocked the wind at the right angle. They could be days or weeks old."