Fallen Grace

by M. Lauryl Lewis

  Gus looked at me when I hadn’t moved from my spot on the floor against a wall.

  “Zoe, darlin’, I need you to open the door. Now.”

  I held my stomach as I stood gingerly, the pain still making it difficult to breathe let alone move.

  “I’m trying, Gus, I swear.”

  “The fucker hurt you,” he said angrily as he shoved the man forward into the door. “Damnit!”

  I slowly made my way to the door, not wanting to get near the man who had nearly raped me. Gus obviously sensed my feelings on the matter and pulled the man backward and away from me.

  “Fucking let go of me,” bellowed the nasty man. “Or I’ll fucking mess you up too!”

  “Zoe, the door, darlin’,” said Gus patiently. His actions spoke their own words as he twisted the man’s arm painfully. “Be careful, the dead are right outside.”

  I could hear the moans of the Roamers already, and knew by their signatures in my brain that they were right outside. They were different than most. Old. Slow. Weakened. I kept one hand on my side to bind it, which helped with the pain a bit. I used the other to unlock the doorknob and twist until the door was freed from its frame. I swung it inward and looked at Gus. I already knew exactly what he was planning to do with the man. I knew that by opening the door, I was just as guilty of the act as Gus. I found myself not caring.

  “Oh no you won’t!” yelled the man, which drew the attention of the Roamers. “No! I won’t have a chance!”

  Gus shoved the man forward onto the porch. The man began to turn to force his way back into the building in which we stood. Gus landed a kick on his side, causing him to fall down the steps. He fell loudly onto his side in the yard. Gus took the door from me and closed it in a very controlled and quiet manner. He quickly locked the doorknob and held an arm out to me. I took his hand and stepped beside him.

  The man lying in the yard was halfway back to standing when the first Roamer reached him. I watched through the panes of glass in the door as he struggled to get the creature off of himself. He was a large man, and strong, but as soon as he knocked the first Roamer off the next was upon him. He wasn't able to fend them both off at the same time. As the first Roamer climbed over the second, the man was forced onto his back. It was hard to tell which took the first bite out of him. His screams as their teeth sank in were ear-piercing and sickening. I watched as several more Roamers joined in the feast. The screaming of the man mixed with the hunger of the dead in my mind as they ripped shreds of flesh off of his body. I could taste the blood in my mouth; feel it dripping down the back of my throat. As two of the creatures fought over one of the man’s legs, he emitted an unearthly scream as it was ripped from the socket. After that he fell silent. Gus turned me toward him and held me close. I buried my face in his chest. I had no energy for tears, so took a few deep breaths and tried to push the dead from my mind; the dead and their horrifying joy over fresh meat.

  Time seemed to pass at a snail’s pace. I only knew when the man was deceased by the change of taste in the mouths of the dead. Half of them continued to feed on his already cooling flesh, while the other half began searching for fresher meat.

  “We need to get upstairs,” I mumbled into Gus’ chest. “They’re looking for food again.”

  “I’ll carry you,” whispered Gus.

  “No. I can walk. Bobby’s in the corner. She’s hurt bad, Gus.”

  “I can come back down for her.”

  “There’s no time. Please, help her instead and let me walk.”

  He kissed the top of my head and I could sense that he would do as I had asked. He was so focused on me, though, that it was almost frightening. He walked to where Bobby was crouched and gently set his hands on her.

  “Bobby, we need to go upstairs,” he said, keeping his voice down. “Can you stand?”

  “I don’t think so. He kicked me Gus. It hurts so bad inside.”

  “Ok, darlin’, I’ll need to carry you. It might hurt but you have to stay quiet as a mouse.”

  “Is he dead?” she asked.

  “As a door nail.”

  “Thank God.”

  I headed toward the stairs, sensing the Roamers desperately stirring about outside. The ones who had fed the most had a renewed sense of energy and were ready for more. As Gus lifted Bobby into his arms, she winced. She held him tightly as he ascended the stairway with her. I followed close behind.

  “Zoe, I’m giving Bobby the bed. Will you be ok on the bean bag?”

  “Ya. Don’t worry about me.”

  Gus grunted as he set Bobby down on the small bed. “I’m worried about you both. Fuck, darlin’, did he…”

  I knew exactly what he was asking from his mind, rather than his words.

  “No. You got there in time.”

  “Why didn’t one of you call out sooner?”

  I looked at him in the candle light like he was daft. “We didn’t want him killing you.”

  He ran a hand through his already messy hair. He looked pissed.

  “We’ll talk more later. Grab that bottle of scotch that Bobby found?”

  “Sure.” I searched through her backpack and found it quickly. It was nearly full.

  Gus took it from me and walked with it to Bobby.

  “Bobby, go ahead and drink a few swigs. It’ll help with the pain.”

  He lifted her head with one hand, and held the bottle up for her with the other. “I think I’m dying,” she moaned quietly.

  “Nah. You’ll be ok,” he said gently. I knew he was lying to her.

  I walked to the bed and sat beside her, worried. She looked so tired and so pale. I held onto one of her hands. A tear fell from the corner of her eye. She tried to take a drink of the scotch, but promptly choked on it. The liquid spilled onto her chin and down her neck.

  Gus wiped the liquor off of her face the best he could and stroked her forehead with the back of his hand. “Sleep, Bobby. We’ll be right here, darlin’.”

  I looked at him questioningly. He shook his head side to side a couple of times. Bobby’s eyes closed and he set her head back down on the pillow. He hand went limp in my own.

  “She’s gone,” he whispered.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, knowing full well that she was dead.

  “Zoe, I need you to go wait on the other side of the room for a few minutes.”

  I placed her limp arm over her abdomen, stood, and bent down to kiss her still-warm cheek. I walked to the small area rug where we had just all shared Pepsi and Pringles only hours before. I listened as Gus rummaged through his pack. The metal tools inside clanked against each other. Moments later, I heard the sound of one of them cracking through Bobby’s skull, followed by the sickening sloppy sound of it being pulled back out. Gus had saved her from ever turning into one of the living dead.

  “Ya, but I wasn't able to save her,” he echoed my though.

  He walked to me and I wrapped my arms around him. “What happened?”

  “I suspect it was internal bleeding. That bastard beat her to death.”

  I could feel his sadness and his anger, as well as his love for me.

  CHAPTER 7

  After Bobby died, Gus covered her in the blanket from the bed. The dead were growing in numbers outside, but most were still concentrated around the body in the backyard. When we heard them thumping against the kitchen door, we decided it was time to leave. We gathered what supplies we could carry, leaving only a few items behind. We removed the rug from the window and climbed onto the porch roof that was right outside. There were a couple of slow Roamers in the street out front.

  “Think we can outrun them?” I asked in a hushed whisper. My side was still hurting me, but I didn’t want to let Gus know.

  “I think we’d be better off getting rid of them. Otherwise they’ll follow us and bring the rest of the bastards with.” He paused a moment to think. “You can’t hide it, Zoe. I know you’re hurting. I’d go get rid of them by myself first, but we’ll need to go down t
ogether. I’ll do my best to do the work if you promise to just stay away from them.”

  “You should take Bobby’s hatchet then,” I said as I held it out to him.

  He nodded once and took it from me. He slid down the edge of the roof and onto the front porch. I followed him, taking my time and scooting gingerly as I dropped my legs over the edge. Gus was there to finish lifting me down. I winced when his arms tightened around my middle.

  I could feel his concern for me flow through my being. As he lowered me to my feet the groans of the dead grew louder.

  “Let’s go,” he whispered against my cheek.

  I took the hatchet from my pack as Gus did the same, arming himself with the other two weapons. He walked briskly in front of me, toward the first Roamer. I trailed along behind him, trying my best to keep up. The moonlight was our only means of light until sunrise. He ran at the dead creature as it stumbled toward him. A single hit of his hatchet to its head brought it down. There were four more Roamers immediately surrounding us, snarling and groaning with their extreme hunger. My hip was on fire, as was my injured side. I could feel the sparked interest of the horde in the backyard in my mind; they knew we were here.

  “Gus!” I called out. “They’re coming after us!”

  I picked up speed as I began to run forward and to Gus’ left. We needed to get out of here, and his culling the zombies without my help was now out of the question. I kept one arm around my side, and wielded my hatchet in the other. The Roamer I was approaching was short and squat with dirtied overalls and no shoes. By the look of its shirt, tattered and threadbare and stained, it had been dead a long time. Its long hair was matted and its face was sunken and drawn. It wore a sparkly bracelet on its left wrist that looked as if it would fall off its skeletal arm at any time. With effort, I raised the hatchet and brought it down. My strike was off, landing on its shoulder. It split the limb, leaving it dangling gruesomely. The zombie seemed agitated, now coming at me harder. It was as determined to kill me as I was it. Tiring already, I held the head of the hatchet out from my side and took a sideways swing, cutting into its neck. It was enough to disable it. As it fell to the street, I ran toward the next. Gus beat me to it, already having killed two others.

  “We need to get out of here fast,” I said, slightly out of breath.

  “Head straight. We’ll find somewhere to hide.”

  We ran together, once again fleeing in search of safety that likely didn’t exist. Immediate threats now lying lifeless, the horde from the back yard was growing closer as we ran. The ones who had feasted on the man who had killed Bobby and injured me were the fastest. They had renewed energy, as if they had been on the brink of their final death and were revitalized by the flesh they had eaten. As I began to fall behind, Gus grabbed onto my free hand, pulling it away from my throbbing side. I ran through the pain, his pulling me along helping me focus. His touch alone sent tiny shivers through my body and helped me focus on putting distance between us and the dead.

  We rounded a corner blindly. The fog in my head from the Roamers following us had prevented me from sensing the Runner that now waited for us. It had obviously been a man, as evidenced by nudity and genitals that hung limply from its withering body. It was crouching down next to a lamp post. As Gus and I came to a halting stop, the creature caught and held my gaze. I could feel its plan in my mind, but just barely. It would wait for the horde to reach us and bring one of us down. It knew I was injured and it figured I would fall first. And when I did, it would take down Gus for itself. It broke my gaze for only a split second to look at Gus. As it did, it had the most rudimentary and crude memory of its human life and being violated by a man who resembled my lover. I squeezed Gus’ hand firmly and hoped he was tuned in to all of the things in my head: the creature’s plan, its memory, the horde closing in.

  Gus let go of my hand and I felt him slip it into the waistband of my pants. With expertise and speed, he drew my revolver and aimed at the Runner. The resulting sound of the weapon firing beside my head was deafening. I ducked down and covered my head in reaction. Gus had already grabbed my arm and was pulling me forward again before I could think. We ran past the fallen body of the Runner and down the block. Gus pulled me around another corner, into an alley that was full of trash from an overturned dumpster. A wave of death-stench hit me as we passed a second smaller dumpster. Something was inside of it, thumping into the sides and scratching to get out.

  “Hurry, Zoe, we have to get out of this!” yelled Gus.

  I refrained from answering, clung to his hand and my hatchet, and ran as fast as I could. The alley opened up to an empty lot. Whatever structure had been there at one time was demolished. All that was left were some bits of wood and concrete and a small portion of toppled chain link fence. Beyond the lot was used car dealership. There was a small selection of vehicles that remained. Some were missing windows or doors or had flat tires.

  “Into the building, Zoe…”

  Onward we went, toward the swinging front glass door. We had lost the horde, but I knew they would soon be upon us again. As we approached the door, Gus grabbed a fist-sized rock from the street and used it to shatter the glass, allowing us to gain entry. I was out of breath, badly, and unable to ask him how he expected us to hide in the building with no door for security.

  Sensing my concern, he spoke quickly as he walked to a small front counter that at one time would have hosted a greeter or secretary. “We need to find the keys for the cars.”

  Nothing more was said as he rummaged through drawers in search of our salvation.

  “Got ‘em.”

  He held up a small board that had eye bolts screwed into it, with about ten sets of keys dangling.

  “Thank God they’re labeled.”

  “Gus? What if none of them run?”

  “We have to take the chance. You can’t keep running in the shape you’re in. C’mon, out the back door.”

  We walked briskly to the back of the small building and though an interior door. Beyond was what looked like work areas and a small break room. In the far back corner, along a gray concrete wall, was a door labeled ‘exit.’

  “Ready?” Gus asked as he put his hand on the doorknob.

  I nodded. He unlocked the knob and turned. The door opened inward and we quickly made our exit. Gus stood still for a moment, surveying the back lot. There were four cars parked to our right, and one to the left. The only one that was free of broken glass or flat tires was a gold four-door. Gus located the key quickly and we walked to the vehicle. He unlocked the doors and we both slid in. It smelled like stale cigarette smoke and vinegar.

  I waited impatiently as he slid the key into the ignition and tried to start it. The engine struggled to turn over as if the battery were weak. Eventually it roared to life, complete with a loud knock under the hood.

  “It sounds like shit, but let’s get out of this fuckhole town. Put your seat belt on, ok babe?”

  I strapped myself in as he started to back out. We drove west as the horde came into view from the south. The fastest of them kept up with us for about a quarter mile before falling behind and out of sight.

  “My side hurts, Gus,” I groaned.

  “We’ll get you something for it as soon as we get back. I promise.”

  “No. Save it for Susan.”

  He reached over and placed his large, rough hand over mine. I felt instantly calmed.

  “How far do you suppose we are? From the motel?”

  “Not more than a couple miles. I want to drive away from it though. No need to chance leading the dead fuckers back there.”

  The knocking in the engine had quieted a notch. The car was small. It’d seat five if we were lucky. I wasn't sure how we’d seat all six, especially with Susan being so ill.

  “We’ll swap out batteries with the station wagon and hope for the best,” Gus echoed my thoughts.

  We drove on, eventually entering a small neighborhood with cookie-cutter two-story homes on both sides of
the street. There were only a couple of ramblers. Lawns had been claimed by weeds. Garbage was strewn about. Trash cans littered the street.

  “It must have been garbage day,” I mumbled.

  Clouds were rolling in quickly, darkening the sky as if mocking us.

  “We need to get gas.”

  I looked at Gus. “Where?”

  He took a deep breath. “Here. The neighborhood.”

  I looked around. “There’s no cars.”

  “Can you tell how far the horde is?” he asked me.

  “I can’t feel them anymore. I think we lost them.”

  “I think we should stop here. Look through the garages. We might get lucky and find a can of gas, or a whole car.”

  “Ok. Maybe we can find food too. Where do you think all the people went?”

  “Hard to say. We probably just met some of them.”

  The thought that the zombies we had left behind had possibly once lived in these homes sent shivers up my arms.

  “We’ll park in this driveway,” he said as he slowed and turned into a simple, flat drive. “And walk down a few houses.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Stay close, Zoe. Ok?”

  “Ya. No problem there.”

  He turned the engine off and reached across me to shove the keys into the glove box. I knew by now it was his way of making sure if he were killed, I would be able to escape. We both slid out of the car and quietly closed our doors, making sure nothing remained on to drain the battery. Gus led the way to a small rambler with a one car garage attached. He guided me to just in front of the garage and looked at me questioningly.

  “I don’t feel anything,” I whispered.

  He nodded once and then leaned down to try the latch on the door. It turned easily and he lifted the door upward. The inside of the garage was crowded. It housed a BBQ, play yard toys, golf clubs, a lawnmower as well as several cardboard boxes stacked awkwardly against the bay walls. A bed mattress leaned against a water heater.

  “Let’s go in and clear the house, then we can close the garage back up.”

  “’Kay.”