by A. L. White
Looking across the street he saw old Boo carrying out what looked like canned goods and coats. He gave a quick wave and Boo motioned for him to get a move on. Charlie frowned and reached down for the door handle. It was unlocked, to his surprise, so he went inside as if he had personally known the family that lived here. There was a pile of clothes in the front room, and all of the non-perishable food was neatly placed on the dining room table. In the kitchen it wasn’t as neat; cabinets were all thrown open, and from what Charlie could see, they were bare. Charlie didn’t bother with the double door refrigerator; nothing in there would be worth taking now.
A quick search upstairs offered little that could be used from Charlie’s perspective, so he returned to the first floor and started carrying the food out to the truck. It looked like Boo was a few houses further down the street than he was, and the back of the truck bore the fruits of his labor. Charlie had hoped that he would live as long as Boo, and he also hoped that he had Boo’s energy level when he got to that age. With Annie gone Charlie wasn’t certain whether to think like that or not anymore.
Most of the houses didn’t have a lot to offer, at least with respect to what they needed in the immediate future.
Boo had finished his side of the street and come over to take the next house after the one Charlie was in. They leap frogged each other until they reached the Preacher’s house.
At the front door, Boo started giving Charlie hand signals. Charlie had no clue as to what they meant. Boo, exhausted by Charlie’s lack of action, kicked the front door in and entered the foyer. Charlie pointed his gun toward the back hall, where he heard a scratching sound. It reminded him of the scratching a puppy would make on the door to get back inside after being let out. Only this was slow and constant, without pause, more like a machine. The farther into the hall Charlie went, the louder the scratching became. Fixated on the scratching, Charlie was ignoring the doorways he passed. Just beyond the third door Charlie heard what sounded like an explosion, followed by a crushing weight falling upon him. The back of his head smacked the floor, sending white sparks off behind his eye. By reflex, he squeezed the trigger, discharging his gun. The weight stilled its movement.
Slowly the weight was lifted off him, and he could see Boo’s face near to his. Boo’s lips were moving rapidly, but Charlie couldn’t hear any words. All he could hear was a loud ringing that filled his head. Boo pulled him to his feet and pressed him against the wall, forcing the gun back into Charlie’s shaking hand. On the floor lay what could have been the preacher’s wife, possibly one of his daughters. At least that was what Charlie thought; he couldn’t tell from the bits of grotesque face remaining.
Boo motioned for Charlie to stay and made his way to the door at the end of the hall. Charlie couldn’t hear the scratching anymore over the ringing. At that moment, for the first time in his life, Charlie knew what it meant to trust another with his life. An eighty-six-year-old man with a world war two era M1 Garand held Charlie’s life in his ancient, shaky hands.
At the door Boo stopped, turned around, and pointed at Charlie, then at his own eyes, and finally, at the door. Charlie drew a deep breath and nodded yes. When Charlie raised the gun up and pointed it at the door, Boo shook his head and held up his open hand. One by one he bent a finger closed to his palm, counting down to when he would go in. Charlie tensed with fear as the second finger closed, then the last one. With a swift kick, Boo knocked the door off its hinges, inward into the room. Charlie nearly squeezed off a round as it landed on the floor and the dust rose from beneath it. Like a man of thirty, Boo charged in the room never leaving Charlie’s sight.
Charlie saw the defensive stance Boo took; then Boo lowered the M1 to his side and made a ‘calm down’ gesture with his free hand. Turning to Charlie, he repeated the gesture letting Charlie know it was ok. Stumbling forward, Charlie entered behind Boo and immediately saw the woman cowering in the corner. He wasn’t sure of her name, but he knew that she had been an assistant to the Preacher for a few years. He felt guilty that he couldn’t remember her name. Boo helped her to her feet and looked her over. There wasn’t much left to her finger nails, from the looks of it she had been scratching on the door.
Charlie was starting to be able to hear again, as the ringing in his head died down. The woman said she was ok and asked if they could help her get out of there. Boo assured her and walked her past Charlie, out to the truck.
Charlie headed back up the hall pausing at every doorway and checking every room, before stopping when he found the kitchen. The refrigerator door was wide open; the smell of the rotten food was horrible. Pushing it shut, Charlie started going through the cabinets, but found only a can of condensed milk. Shaking his head, he wondered how many ran out of food. A moment of sadness overcame him as he started thinking about the preacher’s family; what had gone through their minds when they first realized that there wasn’t any food left. A rapid firing of shots from outside brought Charlie back to the moment.
“You Ok?” Charlie yelled on the way out the front door, startling Boo.
“We’re good out here. That sounded like it came from the other side of town,” Boo replied.
“Let’s go check it out. Juan and his boy may have run into something like we did!”
Once inside of the truck, Boo tossed an old towel that he had pulled from behind the seat, over to Charlie. “Rip this up and wrap it around her fingers.”
Catching the towel, Charlie saw that it was covered in oil or grease of some kind. He tossed it out the window. Reaching down to the bottom of his t-shirt, Charlie ripped off a big patch. Wrapping her hands the best he could, he looked over at Boo, “I don’t know if they are infected, but I am fairly certain they would be if I used that dirty old towel.”
“Point taken! Drop her off at the school, or go look for Juan, bringing her with?” Boo asked.
“No time. Bring her with.”
“Hold on, then,” Boo stepped down on the petal, hard, causing the truck to lurch forward.
They found the flatbed parked mid-way down Front Street, in front of the Donaldson’s house, loaded down with supplies. Boo eased the truck up along the curb, blocking the driveway. The stairs leading up to the wrap around porch were covered in blood and bits of human flesh. From the distance, Charlie couldn’t tell if it was Juan or his son. It could have been both, he thought to himself.
“Charlie, I want you to hang back with the girl. Move over here behind the wheel and keep the motor running,” Boo ordered as he exited the cab.
“I don’t think you should go in by yourself,” Charlie replied.
“Probably not. Still, there is no reason that I can see for both of us to die today,” Boo said with a smile.
Charlie watched Boo go up the stairs, leaving his foot prints in the blood. He paused for a few minutes over a torso, studying it, and then moved into the house. There was no sign of Boo for a long time after that. Charlie climbed out of the truck and checked his gun. As he started around the front of the truck, the first of five shots rang out. The shots were followed by Boo flying out of the back door backward, landing on top of the torso. A large creature came thru the door, cautiously at first, and then advanced on Boo with haste. Like Annie, this creature moved quickly and with purpose; not clumsily like the others.
Charlie raised the gun and fired, nicking the porch pillar with the first shot. The creature stopped and eyed Charlie for a brief second. Charlie recognized it as Ted Donaldson. Ted had made Charlie’s life miserable growing up, and it looked like he was going to repeat it as a zombie. Charlie raised the gun again and held his breath while the monstrous Ted passed Boo on his way toward Charlie.
Steady, Charlie thought to himself as the space between them decreased. Steady now. He then fired, striking the Ted in the chest. It knocked him back a few feet, but didn’t stop him. Charlie’s next shot found its mark between the eyes, and down Ted, or what was left of him, went.
“Boo, you ok?”
Boo started cou
ghing like he was fighting for breath, then settled down, “I am alive, if that is what you’re asking. I thought I told you to stay in the truck, Charlie!”
“Lucky for you, I don’t follow orders very well.”
CHAPTER 8
Only a few hours after they had departed the bunker darkness was already settling over them and the snow fall was beginning to slow. Aunt Zoe, as the group had come to call her, had taken charge back at the barn and assigned vehicles to everyone. She seemed to have a logical sense of who should ride where. Zoe, Taquisha, Pam and the children were all in the RV, with Roy and Joey alternating turns driving. Lori, Virginia and the lads were in the truck leading the way. The rest were in the bus.
They weren’t moving as fast as Lori would have liked, but they were making decent progress. Looking for a good spot to stop until morning, Lori noticed what looked like a small fire on the horizon. It seemed to be a few miles away, but it was hard to tell out in the middle of nowhere. The only way to judge the distance was by the occasional tree lines in between farm fields.
The closer they got to the fire, the more it looked like a small campfire. Then, the hulking back of a screen became visible, followed by a sign that read “Toby’s Drive-in”. Lori slowly brought the truck to a stop, and ordered Virginia to stay there and keep an eye out.
Jogging back to the RV door, Lori opened the door and went inside.
“Looks like there is a campfire over there behind the drive-in screen. I saw it a few miles back, but wasn’t sure what it was until now.”
“Think we should check it out?” Joey asked.
“Of course you should check it out!” Zoe stated. “There could be more survivors out there needing help.”
Joey started to answer, “Aunt Zoe, what if…”
“No, she is right. We need to go in and look,” Lori said, cutting Joey off.
Jermaine was standing at the open door, having come up to see why they were stopped. “I agree. Could be people, or something we could use.”
“Jermaine, could you get Al and meet me by the truck, please?” Lori asked. “Joey, you and Roy come too. We will put the dogs in here to keep everyone else safe while we are gone.”
At the truck, Lori didn’t wait for anyone to talk, starting into her plan for entering the drive-in. “Virginia, you put the dogs into the RV to keep the kids safe while we’re out, and then climb up on top of the cab of the truck. Keep an eye out for anything that looks like a herd moving in on us.”
Virginia shook her head yes and took the lads over to the RV. When she returned, she had Taquisha with her.
“The rest of us will go in through the exit, since it is right here by us. Once we can see what is there, we will split into groups and search through whatever we find.”
Lori turned to Taquisha, “Are you sure you’re up to this?”
Taquisha shook her head yes, and Jermaine patted her on the back. “That’s my baby!”
They moved up near the exit, looking more like a group of kids heading into the school yard than a search party. No one said anything as the fear of the unknown began to grow. Just as they reached the drive-in screen, Lori looked back at Virginia who waved that she was ok.
In the drive-in parking lot there were rows of campers and trucks parked just short of the inclines that the cars used to raise their nose skyward towards the screen.
“There is more here than I thought would be,” Lori stated.
“Yea, looks like there are a few fires burning towards the concession stand,” Al offered.
Taquisha pointed a little further down the exit way at the ground. “Look over there, at the snow.”
Following her finger, Lori could see that the snow about twenty yards down had been trampled flat to the gravel underneath. Whatever had been passing through there passed through in large numbers, and recently. “Can anyone see what is behind that tree line?” Lori asked.
“It’s too dark. Do you want me to go look?” Joey asked.
Lori thought for a few minutes and decided against it. She wanted everyone to get back to the vehicles as fast as they could. “No, we should concentrate on the campers and the concession stand.” She looked around at the different faces for their opinions. Handing Roy a flare gun retrieved from behind the truck’s seat, Lori looked into his eyes, “Roy, can you stay here and watch that area? If anything moves from there just shoot the flare into the sky.”
Roy nodded his head yes and took the gun from her. If Roy was honest with everyone there, he would have told them that he didn’t want to leave the RV in the first place. It was beyond him as to why they were even stopping.
“Joey and Al, you take the first three rows of campers. Jermaine and Taquisha, if you could take the next three, please.”
“Who’s going with you?” Al asked
“I am going to make my way to the fire by the concession stand, then make my way toward you guys.”
“I’m not sure it is a good idea for any of us to be alone,” Jermaine stated.
“No issues leaving me here with a flare gun?” Roy asked.
Jermaine mock punched him in the arm. “Big man like you? No troubles at all.”
“We should get moving. Faster we do this, the faster we are on the road again,” Lori said, heading toward the concession stand. Behind her she could hear the others moving off as well.
There didn’t seem, at first, to be any signs of people. It was as though they had just walked away from their portable shelters. Maybe that was why the snow was all trampled over there on the side of the lot, Lori thought. Deep down she knew what that trampled snow had meant. She hoped that they were far enough behind the herd to not have to deal with them in the dark.
The farther she moved, the stronger the scent filled her nose. They’re here alright. The question is, where? Just beyond a beat up old Airstream trailer, Lori smelled something different. It had a sweet smell, like candy or cake. It was coming from the concession stand just ahead of her to the left. Inside there were sounds of something moving around so Lori loaded an arrow and pulled the door open quickly, slamming it against the outside wall. Twenty faces lit by candle light stared blankly back, unsettling her for a moment. The smell wasn’t zombie at all, just more of that sweet aroma filling the room.
Jermaine and Taquisha were searching through the third or fourth camper when a shuffling sound caught Jermaine’s attention. He motioned to Taquisha to stop rummaging through the cabinets for a second, so he could concentrate.
“Did you hear anything that sounded like a flare going off?” He asked Taquisha.
Shaking her head no, Taquisha went back to looking for anything she thought they could use.
“Baby, be still for a few seconds. Something is outside of the camper,” Jermaine whispered.
Taquisha gave Jermaine her best exasperated look as she turned and left the camper. Having grown increasingly used to that reaction, Jermaine strained to hear if the shuffling was still present. It had stopped for the moment and that was pleasing until Taquisha screamed. Jermaine rushed to her side with ax raised, at the ready. There was one creature, stopped as if it was as surprised at the sight of them, as they were of it.
“Back up slowly, baby, and get behind me,” Jermaine ordered as he moved slowly forward. The creature didn’t make any attempts to move forward, or to flee. Raising the ax higher, Jermaine brought it down with a whooshing sound, using all of the might he had. The ax landed squarely above the creature’s right eye, crushing into the skull. The creature fell to the ground with a thud; the ax still embedded in it’s skull. Jermaine stepped on the head and pulled the ax free, noticing that there were more coming from around the front of the camper. Grabbing Taquisha, he pulled her toward the back where they found even more coming toward them.
“Come on, baby! Head towards the far end! You run as fast as you can, and don’t look back! You hear me, Taquisha?”
Nodding her head, Taquisha took off as fast as she could. At the far end of the drive-in she co
uld barely make out a sign that said “EXIT” in glowing white letters.
Al heard the scream and motioned for Joey to drop what he was carrying, and get going. Joey pointed to the growing herd around them and then to a narrow piece of open space between two of the campers. Al nodded yes, and motioned for Joey to go. In between the campers was tight and confined. Al knew if they had to fight in there the weapons that they had brought would be next to useless. Uncertain they would be able to get out alive, Al began praying for help. On the other end, the creatures were more focused on something that Al and Joey couldn’t make out, just beyond what they could see. Regardless, it was the break Al had prayed for. To him, it was nothing less than a miracle.
“This way, Joey,” Al said out loud, alerting the creatures to their presence. The creatures moved faster than Al had ever seen before, enveloping them. Their hands were all over his body as he fought to free himself. Reaching into his pocket for the revolver and forcing it free against the mass pressing in against him, Al began firing off shots into anything until it seemed that a little room was opening to move. This herd had come upon them so rapidly it was difficult to keep his wits about him. With a little more room to work with Al’s shots were finding their mark in the heads of the creatures. Each shot sent exploding decaying matter all over him, and what he thought was Joey.
“Joey, where are you, son?” Al screamed out as the last of the rounds from the gun fired off. Al had always been a firm believer in the Almighty, and in angels. If asked, Al would say that angels came in all colors and sizes. Now, he couldn’t say if they had wings and all of that, but he could tell that he believed that the almighty would send an angel when needed most. Before him now was an angel if he had ever seen one; a six foot-plus, nearly two hundred and fifty pound, angel wielding an ax as if it was Gabriel’s sword.
