by Gayle Katz
“I-I…” I mumble as I look around. Zombies aren’t attacking the car. The window isn’t broken.
Chapter 12
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John is still driving when he suddenly hits the brakes.
“The bridge is out.”
The three of us look forward and see the broken wooden bridge.
“How did that happen?” Jack postulates. “We’ve been driving over this thing for years and it decides to collapse on us now?”
“It was inevitable,” I eek out. “We’re lucky that rickety thing lasted as long as it did.”
“Where are we going now?” Mallory asks.
“We’re still going to our house. We just need to find another way around, through the city.” Jack insists.
“Through the city? There’ll be people and zombies galore in the city.” John contributes. “We should find another way.”
“There is no other way. At least not one that won’t take forever.” Jack blurts out.
As they fight over what to do next, I turn around and peer out the back window. “Whatever we do, we should do it fast. We’ve got zombies behind us. Coming up fast.”
Jack turns around to see what I’m seeing.
“Shit! They’re close. Back up. See if we can run’em down.”
“These are people. You want me to hit them with a car?”
“Just so we’re clear. They aren’t people anymore. They’ll kill us if we give them the chance. If you can’t do it, I understand, but then get out and let me do the driving.”
“Fine.” John inhales deeply, and then exhales. He throws the car into reverse and rolls over a handful of zombies. The car is small and doesn’t have good shocks. As a result, we’re all tossed around in the car from hitting these undead speed bumps.
“God forgive me.” He whispers.
“That can’t be good for the car.” Mallory says.
“Fuck the car. We just need to get to the house, then we’ll be fine.” Jack swears.
“You sure it’s gonna last that long?” Mallory adds.
“It has to.” Jack responds. “Turn the car around. Keep going until you hit Main Street. You’ll make a right. We’ll take that all the way down until Second Street Pike. Sound good?”
“Sure. I guess so.” John concurs.
Jack hands me a drink from our stash along with another antibiotic.
“Are you in anymore pain?”
“Yeah, but I can deal with it. It’s not too bad right now.”
As we’re driving, for a few minutes I feel peace inside of me. We’ll make it home. I just know it. We’ll keep my sickness at bay until we’re rescued. Everything is going to be fine. I relax. It’s then that the car jostles me about.
“Oh shit!” John exclaims. “There are kids in the middle of the street!”
“Keep going!” Jack shouts back.
“No. I can’t kill kids!”
“Those—,” before Jack can finish his sentence, John swerves to avoid the kids playing in the middle of the street, but crashes into an abandoned car partially blocking the road. The car takes the brunt of the crash and crumples beneath us. Smoke is billowing out from under the hood. John smacks his head on the windshield. Jack and Mallory are tossed around the car like a salad. I bang my head on the seat in front of me trying to keep myself from being thrown around with them.
“Godammit, man! Those aren’t kids. They’re little zombies!” I hear Jack say.
Jack waves his hands in front of my face. “Jane. Jane! Can you hear me?”
He helps me up. As I sit upright, I see smaller zombies crawling on the hood of the car. Their tiny misshapen faces remind me of little gremlins. I point at them.
“Look!”
“Shit! They looked like regular kids.”
“They’re not regular kids. At least not anymore. Can’t think about that now.” Jack moves aside and folds down part of the backseat to get access to the trunk. He grabs two metal baseball bats and immediately passes one to John.
“If we’re gonna get out of this alive, we gotta kill’em. You OK with that?” Jack stares down John.
“No, but I guess I have to be.”
“Collect our supplies and be ready to roll in 5.” Jack looks in our direction.
The guys get out of the car and engage the pint-sized zombies attacking us. A few of them go after the guys and a couple remain on the hood of the car. The little ones are quick on their feet and jump around Jack and John like they’re playing some grammar school game.
As for the ones still on the hood, their little grubby, grotesque hands grab at the car windshield. Their first few hits are no match for the glass, but after five or six solid blows, I can see cracks starting to form. They are such little terrors. It makes me wonder where their parents are. They’re probably zombies themselves, if I have to guess, or probably dead. Neither is a good option. I look outside and see the guys taking swings at the little ones.
These little zombie kids have speed on their side, but the child zombies are no match for the metal baseball bats. One good swing to the head and it’s over. It’s like watching the comedian Gallagher hit a watermelon. The skulls of the kid zombies smash open and blood and brain matter go flying in all directions. Next, the guys go after the ones now on the hood and the roof of the car.
SMASH!
I shake when I hear the baseball bats crash against the roof. The sounds echo inside the car creating a momentary reverberation. Seconds later, I see one of the zombie children lying lifeless part way off the top of the car. I guess the baseball bat did its job.
The guys get back into the car.
“How can someone do that to kids? Turn them into zombies like that. So sad and depressing.” John announces.
“No time to mourn right now. We gotta move.” Jack insists.
“I know. It’s just sad is all.”
“Agreed. Come on. Stay with me. We gotta get out of the car and take as much as possible with us.” Jack helps me.
“What now?” John asks as he looks around, surveying our immediate area.
“Let’s keep going on Main Street. Stay sharp. Since we’re on foot now, I don’t think I need to tell you we’re in an even more precarious position than before. No cover from the car. It’s dangerous out here.”
“I hear ya. Ummm. Maybe we can knock on some of these doors? Maybe someone will let us in?”
“We can, but I wouldn’t count on it. These people are either dead or afraid as fuck. Either way, they probably won’t be opening their doors for anyone anytime soon. Let’s keep moving.”
Chapter 13
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After walking a few blocks down Main Street, we’re definitely moving slower. Carrying all of these supplies on your back and shoulders isn’t easy. They’re heavy and I’m tired. Really tired. John is clearly fatigued too and decides we need shelter. Before he knocks on the closest random door, Jack grabs his arm, stops him, and issues a warning.
“Remember,” Jack insists, “keep your voice down. We don’t want to make any noise or cause a commotion.”
“Will do,” John agrees as he steps closer to the door. Jack is looking around, keeping an eye on our surroundings. Anything can happen at any time. John knocks on the door with a light tap, tap, tap.
“Hello?” He says a little too loud.
No response. He knocks again. This time louder. Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Anyone home?”
Still no response.
Jack walks over to John and whispers into his ear. “Don’t knock or talk too loud, man. We don’t need any unwanted company.”
“Sure.”
“Clearly no one’s home. Let’s go.”
We walk one more block and then I have to stop.
“Jane?” Jack questions why I’m stopping.
“These supplies are getting heavy. And I’m beyond tired.”
“OK. We’ll stop for a few minutes and
rest, but only for a few minutes. Why not drink a little more? It’ll give you a little kick.”
“Fine.” I reply as I put down my supplies and sit on the ground. It feels good to stop and relax, even if it’s just for a minute.
I grab another drink from our stash and twist the cap off. This time, I only drink half of the bottle. I have to pee, but there’s nowhere to go. I guess I could just pee my pants again, but my skirt is dry now and I’d like to keep what’s left of my dignity.
After a couple minutes, Jack collects us and urges us to keep walking. “Time to get moving, people.” Jack reminds us it’s the only way we’re going to survive.
“Why don’t you give me your backpack? I’ll carry it for you.” Jack tries to grab my pack.
“You already have one. It’s not fair if you have to carry two of them.” I pull my pack away from him.
“It’s sweet you worry about me, but you're exhausted.”
“And you’re not?”
“Not as exhausted as you.” I finally let go and Jack takes my gear. He helps me to my feet.
At the same time, John takes a chance and knocks on another door. He knocks softer this time. Not as much boom factor to it.
We hear footsteps and see someone come to the door. The person doesn’t open the door for us. Instead, she whispers through the door.
“Are you the police?” The female voice behind the door asks.
“No, but we need help. Please open the door.”
“Go away.”
“We have supplies. We can help you.”
“Are you deaf? Go away. Supplies won’t help us if we turn into one of those things or we’re dead.”
“Please, lady.”
“How do I know you haven’t been bitten by one of those monsters, huh? How do I know when I open the door, you won’t kill me and take my stuff?”
“We promise we’re not violent. I give you my word. We just don’t want to die out here.”
“Your word means nothing to me. Move along. Find another sucker.”
“We have a better chance of making it through this nightmare if we stick together.” John pleads.
No answer.
“Good try,” Mallory says as she puts her hand on John’s shoulder, “but we have to keep moving now.”
John turns around, dejected, and walks over to me. Jack watches him. He picks up the rest of my load along with his.
“I know you’re not feeling well,” John says. “Let me help.”
I smile and bow my head as a thank you. With Jack and John carrying my stuff, I feel unencumbered. Maybe I’m getting my second wind?
***
After a few more minutes of brisk walking, we make it to the corner of Main Street and Second Street Pike. I’m sweating, exhausted, and ready to collapse, and I’m not even weighed down with gear. I have to stop. I can’t imagine how the rest of my foursome feels right now.
“OK people, let’s take a little break,” Jack instructs.
I sit down and put my head in my hands. Looking at the ground, I’m frazzled and my energy and pep are draining from my bones. I jump when I feel someone touch me. I look up. It’s Jack. He sits down next to me.
“You’re jumpy tonight. How are you doing? Are you OK?”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but how do you think I’m doing? I’m infected. I have lord knows what floating around in my body. Sometimes I want to throw up. Other times I’m fine. And sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“Everything is going to be OK. We just need to make it back home. We can safely reach out for help there.”
“The way I feel, I might not make it. And if I turn before then, I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“You’re going to be fine and I promise I won’t let you hurt anyone, OK?”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
I lean my head on his shoulder for a couple minutes. He turns to look at my face. I move my head and he kisses me on the lips. He can be quite reassuring sometimes.
My bubble of momentary comfort bursts when I hear the loud sound of someone’s doorbell ringing in my ears.
DING. DONG. DING. DONG.
Jack and I look up. John is knocking on another door.
“Holy crap, dude. Why would you ever ring someone’s doorbell? You wanna literally wake up the dead?”
“I didn’t know it would be that loud,” he replies.
“It’s a doorbell. What did you think it would sound like?”
We start to hear noise in the distance. It’s faint, but getting louder and closer. No one is answering the door. We get to our feet.
“We gotta get moving again and fast,” Jack seems frantic. He picks up our two bags of supplies and pops them onto his back. He holds his metal baseball bat in one hand and grabs me with his other one. We start down Second Street Pike. “We have a long way to go. Pick up the pace.”
Mallory and John are behind us. As we’re walking faster, we notice activity in front of us. People stumbling. Zombies ambling toward us, blocking our path. We must be downwind from them. The smell is strangely familiar, but so offensive. I can barely breathe.
“That’s just great. Just what we need, more zombies.” I hear the frustration in Jack’s voice. “When are we going to catch a break?”
“What should we do?” I whisper in his ear.
“Change of plan. We gotta go back. This way is blocked.” Jack turns around and pulls me with him.
We retrace our steps and walk passed Mallory and John. For some reason, they just stand there.
“C’mon, guys. We gotta find another way around.” Jack waves for them to follow.
As Jack and I hurry back, we notice more monsters coming from the other direction. I guess this is the reason why they aren’t moving. There’s nowhere to go. We backtrack again and rejoin John and Mallory who still haven’t moved.
Just then, our fight or flight instincts kick in. With zombies advancing on us and no alleys or secondary streets to help us escape, our only option is to find someone who’ll give us shelter, at least temporarily.
“John, you want to knock on more doors? Well, now’s your chance. Knock on all of them. Make it fast. We’ll help,” Jack yells as he grabs my hand pulling me to the closest door on the street. We start ringing doorbells and knocking furiously. John and Mallory are canvasing the other side of the street.
“Hello? Is there anyone home? Let us in!”
More knocking.
“Let us in! We need your help!”
More doorbells ringing.
“Please let us in! Please help us!”
The zombies start to close in on our position. We’re surrounded. No one is answering their doors or our calls for help.
Do I blame them? No way. I probably wouldn’t help us in our predicament either. Jack hands me one of the baseball bats.
“We gotta protect each other now. If we stand back to back, we might be able to fight them off. Just make sure to stand at least a foot or so away from me. You don’t want to knock me out by accident, right?” Jack smiles a nervous smile.
Chapter 14
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Just then, we hear what sounds like a fire truck. The siren is loud and getting louder. The sound is almost on top of us when we finally see it barreling down the street. It is a fire truck! The big red behemoth is zooming down the road. The zombies don’t seem to care. They keep coming. As the fire truck gets closer to us, it mows down a crowd of ravenous zombies leaving a path of carnage behind it. It doesn’t stop until it’s right next to us.
One of the people inside opens the door. I see a firefighter in full fluorescent garb gesturing for us to get inside.
“Hop in!” He gestures with his hand.
One of the firefighters gets out to help us load up. We don’t waste any time. After throwing our supplies into the truck, we quickly follow. Once we’re secure in the truck, the mysterious fireman closes the door behind us and his part
ner driving the truck locks the doors. We head over to the other side of the street in order to pick up John and Mallory. The firefighter on the passenger side opens the door to pick them up. He hops out and is able to help them into the truck. As he takes his first step back into the truck, a zombie appears from underneath the vehicle and bites his leg. The firefighter tries to shake the zombie loose, but it won’t let go. Instead of getting back into the truck, he closes the door and punches it multiple times with his hand.
“Go, Josh! Go!” He bangs the truck door with his hand, indicating to the other one it’s time for him to leave.
The firefighter in the driver's seat hesitates for a moment and doesn’t move.
“Go!” the firefighter outside screams.
After hearing his instructions, the driver hits the gas and we start to put some distance between the zombie infestation and us.
As we drive away, I can see the firefighter we left behind through the back window. He kicks the zombie in the face, but the monster is resilient and stands up. It bites his neck. Others join in to feast on the tasty firefighter.
With the passenger door closed, but not yet locked, the fire truck charges forward even faster, running over a random horde of disfigured zombies. I can’t believe the firefighter sacrificed himself to save us—total strangers. After we get clear of the fracas behind us, we hit a bump in the road and the passenger door swings open. The driver stops the truck, leans over, and closes it. He locks all the doors and doesn’t say a word. He just looks ahead. Maybe this is his moment of silence for his friend? He continues to stare straight ahead for a moment before turning back to us. He introduces himself.
“My name is Josh. That was my friend, Alex, back there. You guys doing okay?” He seems rightfully somber.
“Yes. Thank you so much. I don’t know how we can thank you.” Jack says graciously.
“No need to thank us. As you can see, it’s our job to help people in need. Sometimes... sometimes we have to give our lives. It’s what we’re trained to do, I guess.”
