Stay Dead 2: The Dead and The Dying

by Steve Wands

  He through the bottle out the window, arching it over the corner of the roof of the adjacent house, and hoping it smashed into the street. He held his breath for a moment and heard the telltale shatter of the bottle. He grinned in delight and then poked his head just above the windowsill to look out. He couldn’t see if they’d gone towards the bottle or continued toward his home.

  “Can’t see shit. Stay here.”

  She nodded, thankful for not having to move. She sat down, putting her back against the wall, as the man stepped past her and quietly moved down the stairs. He stood at the bottom of the steps listening intently to hear if anything was coming up the steps or scratching at the door. He heard nothing and assumed his distraction worked. He was happy there were only a few of them outside. Any more and they would probably have drowned out the noise that the bottle made. Their moans and grunts alone weren’t very loud, but coupled in the dozens and they were deafening.

  “Looks like we’re in the clear,” he said as he came back into the room.

  Sarah had already fallen asleep.

  8 EXPECT DELAYS

  (back to top)

  The convoy moved forward at a slow pace. Navigating through the vehicles had become trickier and tighter the farther up they went. The tight spaces made everyone nervous and on edge. Eddie had become the annoying backseat driver and Jon-Jon was doing his best to keep his cool, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to do it.

  “How’s the shoulder looking?” Eddie asked from behind them.

  “If you can’t see it then I can’t see it. You’re practically in my fucking lap.”

  “Sorry man. I’m just getting claustrophobic.”

  Dawn asked, “Maybe you should close your eyes?”

  “Then I’ll just get motion sickness from all the zigzagging.”

  “Shit. I thought you were a tough guy,” Jon-Jon started to laugh.

  “Give me an Xbox controller and I’ll kick anybody’s ass.”

  Then Frankie chimed in, “Bullshit you will.”

  Dawn screamed. Jon-Jon hit the brakes.

  “What is it?”

  “Inside the car! Look!”

  “What? Where?”

  “There!”

  Jon-Jon followed Dawn’s finger to a smaller accident in the abandoned roadway. There were three cars, two had badly sandwiched the one. The windshield was blown out and semi-shattered across the hood. From the angle they were at Jon-Jon could see right into the car and what he saw made him sick to his stomach. Dawn brought her hand down but they both remained staring. Eddie peered between the two of them trying to pinpoint what they were looking at when he found it he too felt sick. There was a deader pinned inside the car. A seatbelt held her in place, but even if she figured out how to get out of it, the car was so tightly smashed together that she would probably still be unable to get out. He skin looked leathery from the sun and her dried blood looked black. She must’ve broken her nose and her smile on the steering wheel because most of her lower face was covered in the black blood, unless it just wasn’t there at all.

  “Should we put her out of her misery?”

  “It’s not a wounded animal, Ed, that’s a fuckin’ deader. And by the looks of it, she ain’t going anywhere.”

  “Seems fucked up to just leave her though.”

  “I’d rather be fucked up than risking my ass for the humane treatment of deaders.”

  “You’re right, fuck it. Let’s go.”

  Jon-Jon released the break and pushed down gently on the gas. The other vehicles in the convoy paused to figure out what they had seen, but quickly followed.

  Every time Janice closed her eyes she traveled back in time to the moment when her world went to hell and her soul was irrevocably shattered. It just wasn’t fair. She shouldn’t have to have outlived any of her children, or her husband, but certainly not her two little babies. Each one was a miracle.

  She was aging and it had been years since she gave birth to Joseph, over a decade. Her doctor warned her of all the possible outcomes of a woman her age giving birth, but she didn’t care. She was a mom, and her two kids were growing into men and ready to leave home. She couldn’t, and really didn’t want to go back to work, so after some much needed convincing on her husbands behalf they decided to have a child, which turned into two.

  The absence in her heart ached terribly and all she could remember of them were their horrific and bloody ends. The good times were hard to remember now. Not because she couldn’t remember them, but because the scarring of her mind that those last horrid images caused would never heal, the wounds would just reopen with every blink of her eyes.

  She took comfort in knowing her eldest sons were surviving through it all. That she had a good hand in raising them right and making sure they could take care of themselves. They made her proud, but they could not fill the holes in her heart that were slowly killing her. She felt as numb and as dead to the world as she had felt that first day. There would be no getting better, no getting over it. She would feel this way to the end, and that’s why she knew the next time she had the chance to she would get too close to the deaders and let them do what they do best, and take a big bite out of her. It was suicidal, but she didn’t think the good lord would consider it suicide. In her mind it was no worse than smoking while dying of terminal cancer.

  Joseph sat with his arm around his mother and his mind succumbing to its own machinations. He too couldn’t stop thinking of his much younger siblings, or his father. Much of his thoughts were of regrets. He regretted how he spent so much time involved in his own life and not nearly enough time playing with his young brother and sister. He was too busy growing up and butting heads with his father to pay them much attention. He had a full schedule of classes and worked most nights, when he was doing neither he was usually found studying or seeing how many beers he could drink in a night without throwing up.

  Unlike his mother, however, he wanted to live. He wanted to make up for what he considered to be his shortcomings somehow. He wanted redemption. He wanted to keep his mother safe for his father, to let him know he could be responsible…that he could be a man. He wanted to be there for his brother. To be at his side no matter what, just like they always said they’d be. There was nothing to get in the way this time, and if he couldn’t be there for him now, at the end of the fucking world, then what kind of brother was he?

  When they were younger, and all they had to do was go to school, be home in time for dinner, and after dinner to be home before ten they always had time for each other. Hell, they were best friends growing up. They shared comics, cards, toys, everything. They went to the clay pits on their bicycles; walked the train tracks all the way up to the trestle that overlooked The Devil’s Tail; played wall ball, and even stayed up some nights to watch the late night movie, which usually consisted of a monster or giant bug movie, like The Creature From the Black Lagoon, or Empire of the Ants.

  Those were the days, and they never seemed further away than they did now.

  Jon-Jon was able to steer the van, and consequently the convoy, out of the mess of vehicles on the road and onto the shoulder. He drove up the shoulder as far as he could until having to take to the side of the road, which was much bumpier, but seemed to be clear as far as his eyes could see.

  Eddie was still leaning forward between Jon-Jon and Dawn, but was now starting to feel sick from the bumpy ride. He couldn’t focus on anything beyond the windshield and it was giving him a headache. Fuck it, he thought. Jon-Jon was more than capable of driving the van and getting everyone closer to the coast. Eddie just wanted to preoccupy himself with something to do. If he wasn’t doing something his mind would wander through the days that led up to today and they were all pretty bad. He thought it was funny how you could have a life full of good times, but only focus on the bad ones. Maybe if good times left scars, he’d be more inclined to remember them.

  He moved to the back, almost falling over Chung-Hee’s leg, to sit next to his
brother and mother. He leaned over the back of the seat, looking for his backpack and rifled out his notebook and pencil. He doubted he’d be able to write anything down with the van bouncing around as it was, but at the very least he could read over his journal entries from the days before. He was never much for writing, but he figured it would be an okay way to keep track of events, and at the least, days. It was as much a calendar as it was a journal, and as he opened it up he saw an entry that was just the date, the time, and a barely legible scribble that read, ‘fuck this bullshit.’

  Those three words pretty much summed up his thoughts on the whole end-of-the-world-by-zombies thing that was going on. Then again, that was pretty much his motto in life. When things got to real, to serious, it was bullshit. When girlfriends got to serious it was time to walk away. When work started looking like a career it was time to hand in his two weeks.

  As he flipped through his notebook he traveled back in time and could see his words on the page transform into a crystal clear memory of the days that blurred into one long, unending, motherfucker of a day. He flipped all the way to the beginning of the notebook—day one. When he wrote it it was nighttime, and technically it might’ve been the second day, because he couldn’t recall what time he actually wrote it. He stared at it for a moment, then he realized he didn’t want to go back there. He didn’t want to remember any of the shit that had happened. So he closed the book, closed his eyes, and did his best not to cry.

  He folded his arms and faked trying to sleep as the tears silently slid down his face.

  9 WHEN SARAH MET JIM

  (back to top)

  The man woke her up by putting an ice pack to her cheek. Startled, she jumped as the beginnings of a scream died in her throat as she came to realize where she was. The man backed away, immediately regretting waking her the way he did. Not so much because it startled her, but because she almost screamed. And if she had screamed, it was a good possibility this pain in his ass’s voice would carry all the way outside and rouse up some of those dead fuckers that he’d been doing his best to stay clear of.

  She took the ice pack and quietly said, “Thanks.”

  He nodded, and then took a seat on the floor close to her. He looked her over carefully, staring at her scratches and bruises as best he could in the dark. She looked at him, knowing what he was about to ask, and beat him to the chase, “I wasn’t bit. I already told you that.”

  “And I’m supposed to take your word?”

  “Then just let me catch my breath and I’ll be on my way.”

  “If that’s what you want to do I won’t stop you, but just because I’m trying to be safe and smart about this doesn’t mean I want to see you go out there and get yourself killed.”

  “How can I prove to you I wasn’t bit? Those things didn’t lay a hand on me—and I’m not stripping down for anyone!”

  “Then tell me what happened. Tell me how you got to be out running around in the woods.”

  She stared at him for what felt like a long moment, but in all actuality was only the time it took to take a breath, “I was with a bigger group. There was a whole bunch of us. Most of us had been surviving on the road and meeting up with others and joining up and blah blah blah. A bunch of us wanted to head into Titan City--”

  “Why the fuck would you go into the city?”

  “A lot of us have, had—whatever—family there. With nowhere to go it seemed like a good idea. And it still does. My mom and dad live there. I talked to them just a few days ago and they said things were getting better. Anyway, we made it to a school, which is where I ran from. There was a psycho son of a bitch that ended up traveling with us. Seemed like a normal guy. Then he killed two of m-my friends, and…and he t-tried to kill me too. I jumped off the roof—that’s where we were—and ran for the woods. I heard him shoot at me, but he must’ve missed. The building was surrounded with those things, those dead bastards, and I guess some of them followed me. I must’ve sprained my ankle from the jump or maybe in the woods, and that’s where I got all these cuts, and well some of the bruises were from that fucking psycho, but this is all from running in the woods. And those things are slow, but when you don’t know where you’re going, and you can barely breathe or see or run they keep up just fine.”

  “Jesus Christ lady, that’s a lot to take in. Why don’t we get you bandaged up? I got a fist aid kit in the bathroom and I know I have a wrap somewhere for your ankle. Then maybe drink something and get some rest.”

  “Sounds great.”

  The man held out his hand after getting up and helped Sarah to her feet. He showed her to the bathroom, got the first aid kit for her and backed away.

  “I’ll let you do your thing. Just try to be quiet. I’ll be back over in my room by the window if you need me.”

  “Okay, thanks, uh…sorry, what’s your name?”

  “Jim. And you?”

  “Sarah.”

  Jim went back to the window and peered out. There wasn’t much more action than usual on the street which allowed him to relax a bit. He still wasn’t sure about this girl—about Sarah—she seemed sincere enough, but how could he know for certain that she wasn’t somehow infected with whatever turns people into these zombies.

  Jim was fortunate enough to have been home when everything started happening. When the first news reports occurred he thought they were faked. For most of the first day he thought it was a joke, but by the end of day one it was everywhere. The coverage was nonstop and far more engaging than Pawn Stars or Law & Order.

  No one could say for definite what was happening, but as the days went on and the situation continued to degenerate two sides seemed to emerge from the chaos: Atheists, and Theists. Both groups only touted their beliefs and found new reasons for division instead of unison. The media chose sides as well and any real information was lost in the noise as the great debate of whether or not this cataclysmic event was God’s will or some sort of infectious disease.

  Faith in things unseen was always tricky for Jim to wrap his head around. He thought it made sense for some sort of God or Deity to exist but just couldn’t get straight with all the ritual aspects of worshipping one. He loved science, believed in aliens, but he knew there was a limit to what to science could explain. Even now, at the end of times, he couldn’t pick a side of course except for the side of the living.

  Sarah peeled her clothes from her body and turned the shower on. She stepped in and didn’t care a bit that the water was freezing—she could barely feel it. She grabbed the soap and scrubbed at her body as hard and as fast as she could. This wasn’t time for a relaxing shower, no, this was time to get in and get out. She didn’t know this Jim guy at all and had no reason to trust he wouldn’t barge in and try anything but she needed to get clean. She was done in under four minutes and dry in less than one. She wrapped herself tightly in the towel and stared at her dirty clothes. She didn’t want to put them back on, and she didn’t want to step out in a towel.

  She bit her lip in indecision for a few moments and then opened the door a crack and whispered, “Jim.”

  No reply, so she did it again, “Hey Jim!”

  Jim came running, “What’s the matter?”

  “I…uh, just wanted to know if you had any extra clothes you could lend me. I decided to shower off.”

  “I doubt any of my pants will fit you but let me take a look I’m sure I can find something.”

  He returned a few minutes later with an old black t-shirt that read Arson on it red, a pair of sweatpants and a pair of socks.

  “Here you go. This stuff doesn’t really fit me to well anymore,” he said, patting his slight beer belly, “but it should do the trick for ya. Probably going to be big, but it’s all I got.”

  “Thanks, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

  She put the clothes on and sure enough they were big on her. The shirt would’ve been something she might’ve worn to bed, but she was swimming in the pants. She pulled the string as tight as it would go and dou
ble knotted it. The socks were loose too and dropped down past her ankles. It was better than nothing, she thought, and stepped out of the bathroom.

  She walked over to Jim who returned to the window. “Any new developments,” she asked softly.

  “Nope. Looks okay out there.”

  “Good. Thanks again for opening the door. I’d probably be dead right now…walking around like those things.”

  “Your welcome. How do the clothes fit?”

  “They’re a little big, but they’ll do.”

  “So, ummm, what do we do now, how does this work?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, do you have a plan? Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

  “Not really. If you want me to take off, I’ll go--”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just—I haven’t seen anybody in days, if you’re part of a larger group it makes sense to stay with them. I’ve been too scared to leave and didn’t know what to do.”

  “You’re from around here, right? If you know where the school is maybe we can drive over there in the morning and see what’s going on.”

  “Yeah, yeah we can do that. You don’t mind me coming along with you?”

  “Not at all. The more the merrier.”

  “Good maybe we should rest up and get some sleep? I have a futon you can sleep on in my computer room next to the bathroom.”

  “Doubt I’ll be able to sleep much.”

  “Do you want to try getting to your group now, then?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m…I don’t want to see that bastard again.”

  “I understand, but maybe some of your friends have found out what’s happened—or maybe someone else is in danger.”

  “I thought of that, but I don’t see how we can get back into the school. The place is surrounded by them—mostly.”