I started to feel a tiny bit relaxed and glanced back at the woman I shot. “Damn. Maybe she ate everyone. I mean look at the size of her!”
“Thank God, there wasn't a pod. Okay, John let’s get this done, but real careful like.”
I moved in. Directly in front of the door were stairs leading up to the second floor. To the left, a large parlor, and to the right, something we used to call a mudroom, where you took off your wet boots and coat. That room had three doors which were all closed. In the center of the mudroom was a large pile of what looked like diarrhea or vomit, something yellowish mixed with blood.
I whispered to Robert, “So far, so good. Cover the stairs, I’m going left.”
Slowly, I entered the parlor. A large, long, rectangular room, at the far end an open archway led to the dining room. Several large windows gave ample light, nothing moved. The parlor was very nicely decorated, a plush couch, sitting chairs, an extra large Oriental carpet and lots of nautical antiques. The place even smelled like money. On the fireplace mantle was various family photos, but the painting above it is what immediately got my attention.
“Man, did these people have money. Robert, that’s a Winslow Homer above the fireplace!”
“No shit, John, they live in a place Yankee Magazine would pay you to put on their cover. Stay with it.”
“Okay, let’s hold for a second and listen.”
Dead silence. I used the break to clean my glasses. Somewhere in the house, windows were open and I could feel a soft breeze. My neck and back were quickly soaked with sweat. Yeah, fear and humidity suck, but something just didn't feel right.
“Robert.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. Watch my ass.”
I moved over to the fireplace and went forward. The dining room was surprisingly informal, with stuff of the day scattered everywhere. This was obviously a very popular room. I didn’t take time to investigate, but the well-worn dinner table, that could easily sit ten, had to be from the Colonial Period. The archway into the room was partitioned on either side, so I couldn’t get a clear view of the entire space. The rest of the house was off to my right, so the only other way out of the dining room had to be on the right.
As I slowly entered, I could just see the top of a wooden swinging door with a little round window that I assumed led to the kitchen. So far, the room looked deserted. The only problem was that when I looked at the door again, I realized it was stuck three quarters open. I froze. Robert froze. Time froze. Then, creeping forward, I just caught the top of what I assumed was Mister Orca’s shiny grey baldhead, but from my angle, I could tell he wasn’t lying on the floor. Maybe he was sitting down? All my Spider Man senses told me this was wrong. Then the head twitched. Oh, shit! I inched closer and peered around. For that split second, our eyes locked. He looked like some massive mastiff; at least three hundred pounds, naked, on his knees, head up and resting on the stumps of his elbows. Both of his lower arms were gone! It took only a second and in a bizarre crawling fashion, he charged. My first shot hit him in the back and destroyed his lower spine. With legs dead, he still came on fast using his stumps in an impossibly rapid peg leg fashion, roaring at the top of his lungs. I jumped out of the way and he smashed into the wall. The second shot did not miss.
“What the hell was that? Why did it wait? We’ve never seen them wait! Robert, what the fuck just happened? Was that was a fucking ambush?”
“That’s three shots, John, reload, I'll cover you,” Robert said calmly.
It took me maybe four seconds to grab three rounds from my bandoleer and chamber them. “Why eat only the forearms?”
“You eat chicken wings right?”
“Point made.”
“I don't think this is over. Did you see the photos on the mantel, John?”
“Not in any detail. Why?”
“Well, there is a Pod. They got two kids, both teenage boys and schools out for the summer. You're right, that was some bizarre undead shit. Let’s calm down and get this thing done.”
“Bizarre? I tell you what, you take the big stick next time and get up a big load of bizarre. And why the hell were they both naked?”
We entered the kitchen. Large, modern, and all stainless steel, the best of everything. I think I would look like a member of the Pod if I had a place like this to cook. I was relieved that the room was empty and only a bloody trail on the floor from papa orca, if all goes well. We’ll be using this space and it would suck to have zombie guts all over your kitchen. The cleanliness of the place strongly indicated a housekeeper was involved. The size of the two zombies strongly suggested that physical stress was not part of their normal day-to-day routine. We checked out the well-stocked pantry, and found the top end of everything you could eat. Who heard of kangaroo sausage? Did you really need to get your mustard from Germany? Vanilla from Mexico? Oh, well, it was all ours now and I am definitely going to make the best of it.
The kitchen had two additional doors; one led to a sitting room and bathroom and ended up back at the mudroom, and the other to a large room that had been added on to the original building. In here was a big tank connected to some boxes and something that looked like a pumping system.
“Oh man! That's a fucking desalinization system!” Robert yelled.
“You think that is cool, check out this.” In the back was a series of long, black, plastic boxes with wires attached. I had never seen anything like it, but I knew what it was.
“Batteries?”
“Yup, these people spared no expense. Put all this a thousand miles south and we would be home.”
“Hey, Robert, all those boxes are lit. Holy Crap, we have power!”
“That would explain why the refrigerator is working,” Robert replied calmly. “Let’s be careful.”
“Okay,” I said. “Further?” I emphasized the u and just knew that anti-hippie Robert would get the reference.
“Yeah, like on the bus, further.”
“What would possess you to read a book with electric, Kool-Aid, and acid in the title?”
“Shut up, John.”
The second floor was next. This area consisted of three large bedrooms all leading off from the landing. They shared two bathrooms and it was set up so you could make a big loop through all the rooms. Fortunately, for us, all the doors were open and we had clear views. As expected, everything was large and expensive looking. I know they have king sized beds, but this thing needed its own area code. One of the kid’s room had a huge Where The Wild Things Are lithograph personally autographed to him by Sendak, and yes, it was number one in a limited series. I was really starting to dislike these people, or was it envy? Since the windows were closed, it was oppressively hot, but empty of zombies. They had tons of cash but no air conditioners, huh? We went back to the first floor.
The third door in the mudroom opened on to the covered walkway that led to the light tower, from studying the exterior we had guessed as much. Since the walkway had no walls, we could see all the way to the closed black tower door. It was then we heard this strange sound.
“Is that a cat?”
“No, John, that is not a cat.”
We backed up into the yard and saw another zombie on the upper outer walkway of the tower, running about, occasionally looking over the railing, frantically waving his arms and screaming high-pitched gibberish at us. This guy was young and had to be one of the children. I turned to Robert.
“Going up there and getting him is not going to be fun. Any chance we can just leave him up there?”
“You got that right, and no. Hold on a second and let’s just watch.”
The creature continued his erratic movements around the walkway, but was always coming back to lean over and scream at us. Robert’s eyes never left the thing and he took his firing stance, almost like a samurai getting ready to unsheathe his katana. He held his Glock with both hands in the down position.
“Just wait, he's going to show himself.”
&nbs
p; After about half a minute, the zombie stopped and again looked over the railing at us, panting. In one fluid motion, Robert raised his arms, aimed, and fired. From our distance, it looked like a puff of smoke exploded from the back of his head and he dropped to the deck.
“I've seen you shoot, but... damn Robert. That was one hell of an Olympic quality fucking shot!”
“Thanks, let’s hope that leaves us with one more, but we must consider ground crew, servants,...”
“Housekeepers, yes I know. What do you think? Do the tower now?” I was getting excited.
“After the way papa orca acted, let's cover our backs and look around.”
There were two relatively small outbuildings, also freshly painted white with red roofs. The first was about twenty-five yards from the house and stored what looked like various maintenance equipment. It didn't hurt that the building had windows on all sides, so we knew it was clear when we opened the door. As expected, lawnmowers, trimmers, hoses, rakes, the whole shebang. In one corner was a desk with a couple of photos and a large calendar, open to May. It can’t be May. Is it June? What day is it? I guess all that doesn’t matter anymore.
The other building was further away, maybe a hundred yards. A small side window seemed to indicate that it was also empty, but we had to go in and make sure.
“Yes, yes, Robert, I know...I get the zombie.”
“If there is one.”
So here we go, Robert as the door opener, and me the bait. This time, nothing charged out. After a minute, I moved closer. With just the little light from the window, it was like twilight inside. I edged to the open door. Some large objects obscured my view and I knew I would have to enter. I stepped inside the room and it immediately exploded with sound. I screamed and came within a nanosecond away from just letting loose with the Mossberg when a little voice in the back of my head said, “that's not a zombie you idiot!” It was a really good thing I listened to that little voice, since as soon as my eyes adjusted, I saw that the room contained a diesel engine and a very large fuel tank, which I later learned was three-quarters full.
Robert looked in, and then looked at me.
“You weren't thinking of shooting, were you?”
“Oh, God no, not without a verified target, I mean come on, Robert, I have done this before.” What had happened to the calm, fearless zombie fighter I was last week? Or was all that two weeks ago?
He entered the building.
“Must be on some kind of timer,” he yelled back at me. He found the light switch and after tinkering around for a bit, he came over.
“Oh shit this is great! We have hit the jackpot. Let's clear the tower and have a real meal. I'll cook!”
“What? I can't hear you! Outside!”
He repeated himself and filled me in on the details, including dinner.
“Oh, happy day,” I muttered under my breath as I walked to the tower.
This time, the door opened out. Robert pulled down on the lever and pushed the door open. Nothing! Thank God. As usual, we both waited a minute, ready for anything that would emerge into the shaft of light made by the open door.
“Hey, we’re out here! Come and get us!” I yelled.
Still nothing. I moved into the doorway but the room was too dark to see anything clearly. I risked it and started groping the inside wall with my right hand. My shotgun was rammed into my pelvis and if I had to fire, I would pay with one hell of a bruise. It had to be here. I inched in and kept sliding my hand up and down the wall. Finally, I found the switch and flicked it up. This turned on a series of lights scattered all around the room. It wasn’t your standard incandescent light, but instead, it was a soft, white warm light.
The base of the tower had been turned into a tastefully done office with a monstrous mahogany desk and an equally over sized leather chair that might have been able to fit Mr. Orca. How the hell they ever got the furniture in here has to be one of Man’s great mysteries. To the left, a set of steel stairs corkscrewed upwards.
“Shall we?” I said as I looked up trying to see where the stairs ended.
“Don't see why not.”
As we made our way over, Robert noticed another light switch and flipped it. This one illuminated the stairs all the way to a hatch that must lead to the balcony. So, up we went. As with the exterior, everything inside was freshly painted and immaculate, no dust, rust or cobwebs. The hatch was unlocked and I used the barrel of my shotgun to push it up and over. It fell with a loud clang onto the metal walkway. We waited. We had only seen the one up here but you could never be sure and as with everything these days, just a tiny mistake could cost you your life.
I peeked over the lip and could just see the tips of a pair of sneakers sticking out from around the bend, not moving. The other direction was clear. Once on the balcony, I covered Robert and we then made our way around. The coast was clear. In the center of the tower was a glass room with a small entry door. Inside was a large reflecting mirror. I have never been on top of a lighthouse, but I knew this was no place to be with the light active.
The view was magnificent. Even with my preconceived notion that the town was a tourist trap, it actually looked quite quaint. From up here, you could see farms, rolling hills, and patches of forest, which started right at the outskirts of town, no suburbs, no strip malls. This would really be an okay place to live, even with the tourists. None of our activities went unnoticed. The zombies saw us and with the wind coming off the mainland, we could clearly hear the moaning and roaring as almost in unison. There were several hundred by now.
We threw the dead child, a young teenager, over the railing. Eventually, he would end up with his parents in the Atlantic. As we lifted him, I noticed the large hole in the back of his head, the exit wound, with brain tissue hanging out and looking fairly fresh. It still maintained that bluish-grey color and firmness that I had seen in the hundred or so autopsies I had participated in. Strange, the rest of the body showed obvious signs of decay, but the brain still looked good. It would be interesting to get one on the dissecting table.
“Let's head down and check out the office.”
I was lost in thought, staring at the crowd on the wharf.
“Sure, I think I'll come back later. Spend some time getting to know our friends over there.”
Beyond the desk and chair there was a well stocked bar and mini fridge, a large flat screen TV, oriental carpets that looked almost hallucinogenic and an overly comfortable well tooled leather couch. Now this is what I would call a home office. Roberts’ interest lay with a series of grey metal boxes fixed to the wall just under the stairs.
“What’s up, Robert?” I asked as my body oozed and became one with the leather. What a couch!
“Circuit breakers and some switches. I could be wrong, but I think these activate the tower light. Some of this wiring is brand new.” You could hear the childlike excitement in his voice.
“Are you telling me we can fire up the light?” I am never moving from this chair.
“Yeah, I think so.” He continued to examine the boxes and hummed to himself. It was nice to know that he was distracted and somewhat happy.
“Where do you think the other kid is?” My stomach grumbled and the comfort of the chair quickly faded from importance.
“Good question. Maybe he was with friends and got trapped on shore. I think we are clear, since we pretty much covered the place.” He continued to hum.
“Yeah, well... let's be careful and check the house out one more time. Besides, I'm getting hungry!”
The mention of food was probably the only thing that would pry Robert away from his new toy.
“We can try to power her up after dinner. Who knows, we might be able to attract more survivors our way.” I unglued myself, stretched, and headed for the door.
“John, you know how I promised to cook dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I lied.”
“Oh, thank God,” I muttered under my breath as I stepped into the
blinding sunlight.
We went methodically through the house for a second time, but still no sign of the other kid. I started to pay more attention. The clothes in the closets told me that these people did not spend the winter, or maybe they had a new wardrobe sent in when it got cold. Mr. Orca, or should I say Mr. McKenna based on the open mail lying on an open antique roll top desk, was a partner in some New York law firm that doesn’t exist anymore, and one of his kids just got accepted into Andover Academy, which also does not exist. After disposing of the Orca family, I started to get dinner ready and Robert cleaned.
Dinner was grilled rib eye steaks, baked potatoes, frozen veggies and biscuits. Robert washed it down with a fine, well he actually called it fucking outrageously expensive, merlot, and me a Coke. We didn’t talk, just ate.
“Oh, God, stick a fork in me, I'm done!” I leaned back and actually risked feeling a bit normal. With all this food in me and the excitement of the day, I knew I would crash out tonight.
“We should take a week here. It will be nice to get the old batteries recharged.” He poured the last of the wine and rocked back in his chair.
“Don't suppose there is any chance we could ride out winter here? Snag fuel and stockpile food,” I suggested.
“Maybe, but if the generator goes down, we would be in for a rough time. They don't have any wood, so do you want to go collect a few cords? My guess is this place was just used during summertime. Anyway, we need a change of environment. Let’s get the hell outa Maine.”
“Yeah... I guess you're right, but I will enjoy this while we have it.” I stood up and started to collect the plates. I can use the dishwasher; a luxury I had assumed was a thing of the past.
Robert stood and let out an enormous belch.
“Let's see if we can attract some boats our way.” He went to the window and scanned the yard, unholstered his weapon and made his way to the mudroom.
“Hold on a sec, we need to stick together. You know the whole firepower thing.” I quickly loaded the dishwasher and looked out the kitchen and dining room windows. So far, the coast was clear.
Brutal Planet: A Zombie Novel Page 6
