Dying Days_Family Ties

by Armand Rosamilia

  Mason shook off the horrible thought. Emalee was fine. She'd wandered off talking to a ghost and Mason couldn't wait to yell at her about it. He'd never admit he was scared. He'd just act angry and scream about how selfish she was to leave without saying anything.

  An hour passed and still no sign or thought from Emalee.

  Mason made sure no zombies were wandering around the area. He decided he’d head south and try to follow Tosha and her path. Maybe she’d been the key to getting out of this but Emalee had blown it by talking to her dead sister.

  He found some black rocks on the train tracks. They looked and smelled like charcoal, which was a good thing. Mason used them to scribble a note inside the box car, telling Emalee he was heading south to follow the redhead. She’d know what he meant.

  Mason hoped she came back to find the message.

  Sitting inside the hot train car another day was not what he wanted to do. Heck, another hour would feel like forever. They needed to keep moving so they could find the next safe place.

  I’m not making a mistake, Mason thought. I’m trying to find another safe haven for us. When Emalee catches up, she’ll understand.

  He also knew, once she returned and saw he was gone, she’d open up her mind to Mason again. Whether she liked it or not, they were connected and she knew all she had to do was think about talking to him and he’d get the connection.

  Before he went back out into the sun, he made sure the message was legible. He didn’t have the best handwriting but Emalee would understand it.

  Mason’s stomach growled. He needed to find something to eat, too.

  By the time Mason got out of the train station area and walked across an empty parking lot and onto a main road, he was hot, tired, hungry and lonely.

  Emalee had been his constant companion since they were little. They’d always been together. The two would play card games and hide and go seek. Play videogames and watch the same movies; although, Emalee didn’t share Mason’s love of certain ones like Battleship and the scarier ones.

  Right now Mason would give anything to be sitting next to his sister on the couch in the living room fighting over the remote control to see if they were going to watch a Harry Potter movie or The Hunger Games.

  Not that it mattered to Mason because they were all good.

  A zombie was shuffling along, just up the road. Mason didn’t want to disturb it, hoping to stay behind it and follow along without making a sound. He needed to go south and stick to his plan so Emalee could follow.

  Mason didn’t need to move quickly, either. He had all the time in the world right now.

  Up ahead he could see a gas station and what might have been an office building, before it was demolished, the front of the building cracked open like an egg and all of the furniture spilling out into the road.

  Mason walked towards the gas station. Maybe there was an old candy bar or a can of soda in the ruins. He’d even eat a stale candy bar he was so hungry.

  As he got closer to the gas station, he saw the front door had been smashed open and all of the windows were gone, pieces of glass on the hot pavement.

  The awning over the gas pumps was bent and looked like it would fall at any second.

  Mason didn’t think there was going to be anything inside worth anything but he decided it wouldn’t hurt to look.

  The zombie shuffling along was very slow, dragging one of its feet as it moved. As Mason got closer, he could see it was a man wearing a faded plaid shirt and khaki shorts.

  Mason got two steps off the road and onto the gas station asphalt when he saw three more zombies coming out of the weeds next to the gas station.

  He decided he wasn’t going to run past them to get to the gas station but when he turned around there were more zombies. They’d come out from behind the office building and, as they moved and banged around, the zombie he’d been following also turned.

  Mason could turn and run back but he wanted to go south. What if he just went back to the train station? Maybe Emalee was back. This idea of going out on his own had been a bad one.

  When he turned to go north, he wanted to cry.

  The road was filled with zombies, walking slow and silent, all of their eyes fixed on him.

  Mason made a run for it, getting into the gas station.

  He needed a place to hide before they got to him.

  Chapter Seven

  There wasn’t much left of the inside of the gas station. The counter had been knocked over and it looked like someone had stepped on all of the fallen chocolate bars in the candy aisle.

  What a waste of good candy, Mason thought before focusing on the task at hand: hiding from zombies. There were too many of them outside to dodge and he couldn’t fight them.

  Mason was going to crawl under the counter but it was too risky. If the zombies found him, he’d have nowhere to go. He needed somewhere safer.

  All of the displays were flimsy and didn’t offer much cover. The area that used to house the coffee pots, against the wall, had been moved and broken on the ground, too.

  There was nowhere, in this room, to hide.

  He ran through the broken door leading into the garage area. A burgundy mini-van, like the one mom used to have, was up on the lift with the front two tires missing.

  Another car, with all of its windows shattered, was parked in the garage with the doors open.

  Mason saw scattered tools on the floor but he didn’t want to fight zombies. He wanted to escape them.

  He could hear the zombies outside, shuffling closer, kicking up pebbles in the parking lot. In a few seconds the closest one would be inside the gas station and attacking unless Mason did something. Anything.

  The big red tool drawers were too small to hide in and they were pushed against the wall without enough space to hide behind and not be seen.

  Mason paced back and forth, unable to figure out what to do.

  In his panicked state, he bumped his head on a tire from the car on the lift.

  Car on the lift.

  In the air.

  Off the ground.

  Away from zombies.

  Mason tried to jump up and grab onto the car but it was too high.

  A zombie was definitely inside the gas station now, stepping on more candy bars.

  Mason looked in the backseat of the car on the floor but it was covered in broken glass and gross stuff. That wasn’t going to work.

  He could see the shadow of the zombie in the next room. It wouldn’t be long before it saw Mason.

  Another zombie slammed against the large gas station bay doors, startling Mason. He could see silhouettes of several zombies shuffling past.

  Mason climbed up on the car on the ground and measured the distance to the car on the lift. Luckily the front window to the mini-van was open.

  But could he risk jumping and trying to pull himself up and into the mini-van?

  The zombie came into view in the other room but it didn’t act like it had seen Mason yet.

  It was now or never for Mason.

  He took a step back, almost falling off the other side of the car roof. How stupid that would’ve been… trying to save himself but probably slamming his head into the wall or breaking an arm or leg or knocking himself out and letting the zombies eat him.

  Mason wanted to cry but there was no time for it.

  He made sure he was balanced before taking a big step forward and putting his arms out to catch the window.

  Mason was up and moving through the air, his feet leaving the roof of the car.

  The mini-van was further than it looked and Mason had a vision of him missing by a few inches and falling to the ground, slamming into the concrete floor and ringing the dinner bell for the monsters.

  His hands were inches away and it felt like he was falling out of the sky in slow motion, his fingers dancing to get a grip on the door.

  Mason started going down and closed his eyes.

  His fingers caught the window.

&nb
sp; He opened his eyes and held on for dear life as his weight was trying to force him to the ground. Mason kicked his legs, trying to raise them to get a grip on the bottom of the mini-van.

  Mason found a perch and was standing on the lift itself, just jutting out from under the vehicle. He opened the front door, careful not to fall.

  He heard the zombie coming into the garage, sure he’d been spotted.

  Mason slipped into the mini-van and closed the door as quietly as he could. He climbed into the back of the vehicle and stood between the bucket seats so he could get a better view of the action below.

  It was not good.

  At least six zombies had entered the gas station and were wandering around, bumping into things and making more of a mess.

  The zombie that had followed him inside first was off to one side, heading straight for the car on the ground.

  Mason could see there were quite a few zombies outside, their shadows moving past the bay doors. He could only guess how many were around, looking for him.

  The noise level outside rose, as more zombies joined the others, and banged against the bay doors and the gas station itself, threatening to knock over the building. There might be hundreds out there now, all drawn to Mason.

  Zombies were below the mini-van and out of sight but Mason could hear them. He closed his eyes and prayed there wouldn’t be enough of them to knock over the lift and send him crashing to the ground.

  Mason’s eyes snapped open when something large crashed to the floor in the garage. He peered out of the mini-van and saw a tool rack, formerly mounted on the wall, now in pieces and collapsed on top of the other car. The roof had been flattened like a pancake and zombies swarmed to get inside.

  If I’d climbed into the backseat of that car, I’d be crushed right now, Mason thought. Or worse.

  The noise from the zombies trying to get into the car below was calling more of them in until all Mason could see was zombies. He knew eventually they’d push through the large bay doors and then the entire garage would be exposed with him above it.

  Mason didn’t like his odds of survival.

  He tried to remain calm but it was hard. He was shaking and covered his eyes so he didn’t start crying and give away his hiding place.

  Mason wondered where his sister was right now and tried to call out to her with his mind, wondering if she was close enough to hear his pleas or feel his fear.

  “Please, hear me,” Mason whispered. He needed someone… anyone to rescue him before the zombies figured out where he was and how to pry him out of the mini-van like he was tuna fish inside a can.

  The thought of him being inside a tuna can made him smile because it was the kind of goofy thing he’d say that would make Emalee smile.

  He missed Emalee.

  Mason sat down on the floor of the mini-van and tried to relax, knowing if he kept staring out the dusty windows eventually a zombie would spot him or seeing so many would freak him out so badly he’d scream or start crying.

  Chapter Eight

  Mason woke in the dark and covered his own mouth so he didn’t scream. He’d been having another nightmare and had no idea where he was right now.

  You’re in the mini-van like mom used to have, Mason thought.

  He was hunched down in the back of the mini-van and his sides hurt. He’d been wedged between the bucket seats on the ground but there were toys, bits of cereal and even a child’s sock stuck to his arm.

  Mason was afraid to shift too much. If there were still zombies in the gas station, they’d hear him and attack. He didn’t know how they’d be able to climb into the vehicle but he didn’t want to chance it.

  He took his time shuffling out from between the seats and got onto his knees, peering slowly out the side window. Mason was expecting a monstrous face to be looking back, like in a horror movie, but all he saw was darkness.

  A faint light was coming from the gas station office, moonlight trying to find its way in, but it was too dark to know if a zombie was in the bay with him.

  He didn’t hear anything moving around, which was a good thing.

  Mason had no idea what time it was. He didn’t know if he’d slept an hour or ten. It was definitely night time but it could also be close to first light and morning.

  His stomach growled and he thought about picking stale Cheerios out of the mini-van seats and feasting. It would taste horrible but it would be better than starving to death, right?

  Something clanked outside but, when he turned his head to look, he couldn’t see a thing. It could be the wind. Maybe something old finally fell. It could be a horde of zombies standing patiently on the other side of the bay door waiting for Mason to climb down.

  Mason didn’t dare try to escape the mini-van. It would make too much noise in the silence and he was afraid his banging around would carry and alert the monsters.

  As a small child, he’d been sure monsters lived in his closet and would eat him if he got out of bed. He’d have to wait until the first light of morning, paralyzed under his covers, before he could put a bare foot on the cold floor.

  It was the same now. He felt like he was in bed and he just needed to see the morning light through the window so he’d know the monsters had scurried away for another day.

  Only these monsters might still be there, even in the daytime.

  He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his sister again. What else could he do?

  They’d never been too far apart so Mason tapping into her thoughts or talking to her with his mind had never been an issue, except when she was in a bad mood and wanted him to stop.

  Emalee had been able to block him but she’d need to keep up the thought of closing out her mind and she had never lasted more than a few minutes before she was distracted by other thoughts.

  He didn’t know if it was distance or her getting better at blocking him that made it impossible for them to connect.

  Mason didn’t want to think of any other option.

  He was so bored right now.

  Mason decided there was nothing left to do but wait until morning, when he could see well. Climbing out of the mini-van in the dark would be dangerous. He could twist an ankle. He could fall and hurt himself worse. He could drop down and be eaten by zombies.

  He sighed and tried to get comfortable on the floor, sweeping the cereal into a pile with his hands. He was hungry and it would be better than nothing.

  If only Emalee could see me now, Mason thought and smiled.

  * * * * *

  As soon as he saw the faint glow of the sun coming up over the horizon through the dirty garage windows, Mason started to rise. He must’ve dozed off again because it felt like time had passed.

  Mason gently went to the side and slowly raised his head, squinting in case something horrible was waiting on the other side.

  The garage floor was empty. No zombies; although, there was a mess down there where they’d crashed through everything.

  Something banged in the main part of the gas station and Mason ducked back down.

  If he was seen, they might start fussing and he didn’t want the horde to return.

  He counted to fifty and took another look.

  There was nothing out of the ordinary and, even though he had a good view of the office in the other part of the garage, he couldn’t see any zombies.

  A shadow passed slowly across the bay doors outside, something dragging along in search of another way to get inside or just wandering in search of the living.

  Mason watched it go and then counted to a hundred before moving back and forth in the mini-van, looking for zombies at different angles, making sure there weren’t any underneath where he was hiding. Ready to pounce.

  Then he waited again, this time counting to two hundred and doing it much slower.

  Stop being such a chicken, he thought. The longer you stay up here the worse it’s going to get. His stomach growled in response. Stale Cheerios mixed with the dirt and gross stuff from the floor o
f the mini-van hadn’t been much of a meal.

  Mason closed his eyes, counted to ten and swore he wasn’t going to just keep counting until he passed out or starved to death. He finally opened his eyes and climbed down without thinking about what he was doing or why he was even doing it.

  He was on the ground.

  Mason took three big steps and was into the front of the gas station and headed to the door before he saw the zombie, standing in a corner, staring at him.

  He’d been seen.

  Mason waved nervously, not knowing what else to do. Maybe the zombie would ignore him or his eyes weren’t working properly or…

  The zombie took a step forward in Mason’s direction. He’d definitely been spotted from across the room.

  “I don’t suppose we can talk this over before you bite me?” Mason asked nervously, trying to make a joke out of the situation so he didn’t wet himself.

  The zombie had been a woman and she was wearing a waitress outfit, with her name tag still on her dirty shirt. Delores.

  “Hey, Delores, I’m really not all that tasty. Trust me. In kindergarten, Hannah took a bite out of my arm on the playground and got really sick. True story,” Mason said.

  Delores wasn’t listening. She gained speed as she shuffled across the room, kicking up debris and spoiled cupcakes and opened bags of chips.

  Mason was paralyzed. His mind screamed to run out of the open door. He was faster than this zombie. He could easily make it if he just lifted his foot and turned. Just put one foot in front of the other.

  He couldn’t move.

  The zombie was only a few feet away now, the only thing between death and Mason a wire rack that used to hold snack cakes.

  Mason glanced at the door. It looked like it was a billion miles away. He turned back to the zombie, putting up his hands.

  The zombie walked into the rack, eyes locked on Mason.

  Eyes holding Mason in place.