by Joseph Souza
“Rick thinks we can hold out until the end of spring.”
“Once the snow melts, there will be thousands of them descending upon us, from above and below, heaven and hell. And even supposing we do survive, do you really think this happy little family will last? You’ll be heading back to Boston, assuming that your wife and son are still alive.”
“It’s no assumption, Kate. They are alive! I just know it.”
“Okay, Thom, let’s assume for the moment they are. Then what? God knows where Thorn and Dar will go. Your brother will stay here as long as he can, holed up in his basement all day, which will leave me with Gunner and his two kids. And that poor guy is ready for the rubber room. He’ll be lucky if he survives this ordeal with all his marbles intact. Which leaves me and his two kids with no means of support and nowhere to go.”
“You can come to Boston and live with us until you get back on your feet.”
“And be a pity case? No, thanks. That’s even assuming you find them. You’ve seen what’s going on out there. Do you really think that it’s going to be any better in Boston? The only thing that’s saved us is the fact that winter has kept those things at bay. What’s going to happen when it warms up and the dead are able to wander freely and spread their disease? It’s all coming to an end, Thom.”
I wanted to slap her. Her hurtful words had cut me to the core. I had no other option than to believe that my wife and son were still alive and waiting for me to return home. Screw her. She could stay here and rot for all I cared. I turned away, sat at the table, and poured myself a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee.
“I’m sorry, Thom. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” she said, sitting down next to me. “I was being a total bitch. You were right. Your wife and son are alive and waiting for you down in Boston. I’m sure they’re just fine.” Tears fell from her eyes.
“What are you keeping from me, Kate? You’ve told me practically nothing about yourself the entire time we’ve been here.”
“No, you’re right. I’ve kept my personal history to myself for a reason. But I do appreciate everything you and your brother have done for me.”
“Why won’t you open up and tell me something about yourself? Anything. I’m your friend, Kate. What the hell are you afraid of?”
“Believe it or not, Thom,” she said, punching her chest over her heart, “what’s in here is a lot more frightening than what’s out there.”
She stared at me for what seemed like a very long time. Then she explained what had led her to move to this stark northern territory. Her husband and children were dead, and now she was alone in the world. After she finished telling me her story, I sat there in a daze, unable to believe what I’d just heard. Their deaths seemed so senseless and cruel, but I had no time to let her words sink in. Four creatures had managed to bypass the mounds of snow and stumble onto the plowed driveway. They approached the dining room window just over Kate’s shoulder, their expressions grim and unchanging. One had a missing arm, and another had half its face chewed off. Their clothes were ripped and shredded, and stiff from the cold. Each one held a frozen chunk of ice in their hands as if planning to toss it through the window. The one with the chewed-up face held the ice block up over its head as he stumbled forward. Upon reaching the window, he smashed it down against the pane of glass. The noise exploded in our ears, and yet the glass did not break. The others followed suit. The glass quivered and shook but held strong. Kate collapsed into my arms, sobbing.
“See, Thom, I told you they’d be back, and here they are, sooner than expected.”
“Take it easy, Kate. We’ll get rid of them.”
Everyone heard the crashing sound and ran into the dining room. We watched in shock as they continued to pound away at the glass with the chunks of ice, which eventually broke off into small fragments until they were harmless snowballs. Their eyes locked on us in a frightening manner. Their gaze seemed both focused and faraway, but it was obvious we were the object of their desire. Rick didn’t waste any time. He grabbed one of the rifles and tossed one to Thorn and then one to Dar. Dar ran out into the driveway and began to bait them to turn around and chase her. I understood what she was doing. The creatures were too close to the house; one misplaced bullet had the potential to shatter the windows or penetrate through the siding, making us all vulnerable to the cold and future attacks.
Two of them took the bait and went after Dar. Rick ran out, raised the rifle, and put a bullet into their heads, stopping them dead in their tracks. The other two lumbered alongside the house. Thorn fired next and put them both down. Fortunately, none of the bullets ended up hitting the windows. Smeared across the glass, however, was a splattering of gelatinous brain matter in the shape of an abstract painting. After the creatures had been vanquished, the three of them ran back inside, slamming the door shut behind them.
“That was a wicked close call,” Thorn said, panting.
“Better get used to it. Looks like they called for backup,” Dar said, pointing out the window.
“Holy shit!” Rick said.
Off in the distance, an army of the dead was approaching from the pasture. They trudged through the snow at a glacial pace, but the cold and the diminishing depth of the snow pack did little to deter their slow, steady march. Some looked like children. The smaller ones walked on the upper crust and moved much faster than the heavier ones. Some limped, others scampered, kicking up snow. A few crawled like dogs or wolves. Rick ran back, retrieved his binoculars, and gazed out at the legion of dead moving toward the house. He wordlessly passed the glasses over to me. I put them up to my eyes and observed the determined and hungry lot.
“Now that the snow is melting it’s going to get worse. They’re going to need nourishment after hibernating all winter.”
“We’ve got enough ammo to blow them away,” Dar said. “So what’s the problem?”
“Sure, we have enough firepower for now. But for how long?” Rick said, looking uneasily at us. “We’ll win this battle and maybe a few more after that. But eventually the ammo is going to run out. When that happens, we’re screwed to the wall. Then they’ll start to swarm the place like bees. These windows are tough, but they’re not unbreakable. Even the Titanic eventually sank. No, what we need is an alternate strategy.”
“We’ll deal with that shit when the time comes, Rick. Stop sounding like such a downer,” Dar said. “I’m going to take a boatload of these fuckers out with me before I go down with the ship, whether I have to do it with a gun or a hunting knife.”
“I’m all in with you, Dar,” Thorn said. “I’m not going down without a fight either, Rick, so don’t bring us down with that pessimistic crap. We can definitely buy more time before the cavalry comes to our rescue.”
Rick glanced nervously in my direction. Then he looked at Gunner, who was shaking his head dejectedly.
“Delia was right,” Gunner said. “This shit is hell on earth, and it ain’t going to end well. We’re all doomed.”
“Maybe you’re doomed, you asshole hick, but not the rest of us,” Dar said, pushing Gunner hard against the wall. He didn’t fight back.
Rick tried to restrain Dar, but she struggled to get at Gunner and tear him to pieces.
“Better get your act together, chump, because you got two little kids to care for, and we’ve all been picking up the slack for your lazy ass. So shut your goddamn trailer-trash mouth if you’re going to talk garbage, and take care of your kids!”
“I’m a good dad to those two little girls,” he replied weakly.
“You’re a gutless coward who lacks a spine. Those kids would be better off with one of those fuckers as their dad.”
“It’s hard to care for them, you have no idea. How am I supposed to raise two girls with all this craziness going on? What kind of future will they have?”
“Like we don’t already know this is hard?” Thorn said, exasperated. “Maybe you shouldn’t have had kids if you weren’t prepared to care for them. Get your shi
t together, Gunner, and start acting like a man.”
Gunner turned and walked back towards the living room where his kids were playing.
“Pussy!” Thorn shouted.
“That’s it. Walk away, you defeatist loser!” Dar added.
“Go easy on him, you two. We need to get along if we’re going to tough this thing out,” Rick said. “No more fighting amongst ourselves. Besides, I’ve got a plan to take that army down.”
Once he finished telling us his strategy, he moved his truck into the driveway. His idea was to set up behind the truck and pick each of them off one by one. It would require patience, accuracy, and a steady hand. Gunner and Kate would be the runners, supplying ammo. I would be the rover, making sure none of the flying ones attacked from the roof. We could not let them get beyond a certain point or else they would overwhelm us. They were desperate and hungry, and we had to assume that their bodies had adjusted to this harsh environment, which allowed them to move through the snow at a faster clip.
We waited inside until they reached a certain point. The temperature hovered in the low forties, and Rick wanted to make sure that our exposure to the cold was limited. Prolonged exposure even in this climate could cause problems. The failure to kill with a single shot could mean the difference between life and death.
When they reached the designated tree, we went outside and set up behind the pickup. I kept my eyes trained to my left and to my right, and then up towards the sky in case one of those flying baby-things flew down. The cries the dead made as they came forward sounded horrific to my ears. They let out bloodcurdling screams that echoed in the crisp air. Gunner stared ahead in horror, looking as if he might pass out from fright. He covered his ears and started to sob uncontrollably, then went off to the side and dry heaved onto a snow pile. Rick went over and pulled him up by the collar, slapping him hard in the face. The imprint of his hand reddened on Gunner’s cold cheek.
“Shape up,” Rick ordered, “or I’ll shoot you right here and turn you into one of those goons.”
Gunner nodded, wiped away the tears, and took some deep breaths. He looked defeated and could have easily been mistaken for one of the dead now marching toward us.
We waited patiently for Rick to give the signal. It seemed like forever. Although I’d been assigned to watch their backs, I waited with bated breath for the carnage to begin. At the sound of his cue, the three of them started to fire. I kept my eyes trained in every direction, on the lookout for rogues. Hellish cries and bloodthirsty screeches filled my ears. Bodies toppled over one another in their attempts to reach us. At some point during the massacre, I turned around and caught sight of their heads exploding and their bodies dropping away. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The front lines disappeared only to be replaced by another line right behind it. Their numbers seemed endless.
The gunfire lasted for what seemed like forever. Kate ran back and forth, diligently supplying ammo to the shooters. Gunner dropped boxes, kept slipping on the ice, and proved to be relatively useless. Inside the house, I saw Emily standing on a chair and crying uncontrollably as she watched the dead marching toward the house. Poor kid. And I felt helpless to comfort her.
I caught something out of the corner of my eye. Looking up, I noticed a snarling young fucker standing on the roof and glaring down as if observing our every move. It had a sharp beak and fierce eyes like a hawk, and it shrieked in high-pitched notes. I lifted the gun, took aim, and fired off a round, but missed. At the last second, it lifted its wings and soared down towards me. I fired again and missed. Before I knew what happened it landed on the barrel of my gun. The barrel dropped to the icy pavement, and it slid down to the ice. Kate screamed for help, and Gunner sprinted over and stared at it, frozen in shock. Rick turned and ordered me to kill it. I shook the weightless creature off the barrel of the gun, but it came at me too quickly. It was nasty and faster than I expected, and was snapping its small jaws wildly. I punched it in the head, and it fell back towards the house and hissed. I raised the barrel of the gun and shuffled off to the side so that I didn’t put a bullet through the siding. It circled, hissed, and then lunged. Its head was bald and hairless like a small child’s, and its tiny wings fanned out over its hunched back. I pulled the trigger, and this time the bullet went in through its cheek and out through the back of its translucent skull, and it fell to the ground. Kate ran over and fell to her knees, staring at it.
“Keep away. It might be contagious.”
“It’s little Jimmy Monroe. He was in my class down at the daycare.”
“Kate, I’m sorry.”
“God have mercy on his soul,” she said, making the sign of the cross. She wiped away a tear. “He was one of the cutest little boys I’ve ever known, always smiling and laughing.”
“Save it for later, Martha Stewart!” Dar shouted. “I need more ammo.”
Kate glared hatefully at her before running off to get more supplies.
It seemed like forever before the sound of the gunshots finally ceased. I turned and assessed the situation once the eerie silence filled the air. We walked around the pickup truck and to the edge of the driveway, and stared at the killing field littered with bodies. Gunpowder and smoke singed our nostrils. The massive snow fortress had been reduced to a four-foot wall. The icy pasture appeared littered with rotting, fetid corpses. Puffs of smoke rose from the rubble of their bludgeoned corpses. The dead had trudged over each other in their attempt to reach us. They stacked four and five feet high in places. Sweat poured from every opening in my body. Beneath my jacket my clothes were soaking wet and sticking to my skin. Exhausted, we filed back into the house. Up in the sky, the birds flew in chaotic formations, circling around and streaking back and forth in short, violent bursts. It appeared as if they were trying to communicate through some complex set of symbols.
We collapsed into the dining room chairs. Emily immediately ran up and embraced her father, sobbing, but Gunner was too traumatized to comfort her. Kate stepped in, picked up the child, and carried her into the living room. We sat in stunned silence, trying to compose our thoughts while attempting to make sense of what we had just witnessed. A few moments later, we heard the sound of Kate’s voice filling the house. She was singing “Now the Day Is Over”, and it nearly brought me to tears because it was the same song I’d sung to Dar when she was a little girl. It mesmerized me, and I sat transfixed, listening to her. We stared ahead, spellbound, enraptured, as if in some sort of catatonic trance.
Now the wind is whispering
In stillness soft and sweet
All of nature’s creatures
Now are sound asleep
The birds and beasts and flowers
All have gone to sleep.
“Now that it’s warming up, they’ll be coming in droves,” Kate said as soon as she came back into the room.
“That fact hasn’t escaped me,” Rick said.
“Are you guys losing your minds? Did you see the way we blew them away? Bring it on, bitches!” Dar said.
“You won’t be saying that when the ammo starts to thin out.”
“We’ve got the plow truck, dude. When the shit hits the fan, we can all climb in and drive somewhere safe,” Thorn said.
“And where might that be, Thorn?” I asked him.
“Hell if I know, but there has to be a place out there where we can hide out until this shit blows over. Must be National Guards or army troops patrolling somewhere.”
“Out there could be much worse than in here. The cities will eventually be teeming with the diseased. Our best bet is to stay here for the time being,” Rick said. “Have any of you noticed that these things don’t seem to attack at night?”
“I noticed that too. Why’s that?” Thorn asked.
“I’m not sure. Maybe their brains have been programmed to conserve energy when human flesh is in short supply,” Rick said. “And when they discover fresh prey, I’ll wager they become bolder and more aggressive.”
I didn’
t want to contemplate this scenario. The gunfight had left us all exhausted and mentally spent, and I wanted nothing more than to change the subject. No one asked Rick how he knew all this information, but I had an inkling that his research down in the basement had yielded some interesting results, though he was not forthcoming with such findings.
“I just don’t want to become one of them,” Kate said, walking around the table. “Promise me, all of you, that if I die you won’t let it happen. That you’ll put a bullet in my head.”
“Gladly,” Dar said.
“What’s wrong with you? Don’t you have any respect for anything? Anyone?” Kate asked her.
“Look, lady, I spent my whole life paying respect to authorities and playing by the rules. And where did all that get me? Psychiatrists, antidepressants, self-mutilation and an eating disorder that nearly killed me. I’m done playing by the rules, Martha Stewart, unless they’re my rules,” Dar shot back, standing to face Kate. “So sit the fuck down and shut your hole.”
“Is this how you raised your kids, Thom? Were you too busy writing your precious novels to teach your children how to behave properly?”
“Don’t lecture me on raising kids, Kate, when you don’t have any of your own,” I said, regretting the words as soon as they came out of my mouth.
Kate ran upstairs, weeping.
“Damn!” Gunner mumbled. “Dying would be better than living through this bullshit.”
“Then do us all a big favor, dude, and go give Mr. Remington over there a blowjob,” Dar said, stalking angrily out of the room.
Chapter 16
THE REST OF THE DAY PASSED without incident. I felt terrible about what I’d said to Kate and tried to think of a way to apologize. The words came out of my mouth before I had a chance to think. When she came back downstairs, she didn’t look at me or even acknowledge my presence.
Dar and Thorn sat around playing cards. Kate washed dishes and scrubbed clean the kitchen counters and floors. After that she cleaned the entire house from top to bottom before taking care of Gunner’s two children. Gunner proved useless, still traumatized by the battle, sitting in the darkened living room and rocking back and forth. Occasionally, he returned to the dining room and sat at the kitchen table with us, staring mindlessly out the window, before quickly retreating back to the living room. He barely acknowledged me when I tried to give him a word of encouragement. Maybe it would pass and he would snap back to his senses. Or maybe it wouldn’t and he’d be irreparably harmed. For the time being, we left him alone.
