I take a step back. His ears perk up and he looks right at me. I know he can see me, too. My drab clothing fits right into his dichromatic spectrum of vision.
He stamps the ground and shakes his head, waving his spiked rack around. He's getting agitated. I step back again and slide behind a small tree, only about six inches around. It's not much, but at least it will save me from being gored.
The buck stomps around more and more, waving its head around and snorting. A moan from behind me tells all: one of those fuckers did follow me.
I hold completely still and watch the thing. It steps alongside me. The fucker's eyes lock on mine, milky hazed pupils study with a lifeless stare. Whether he can see me or not, I can't be sure. As he looks back at the buck and continues his path, I decide I really don't give a shit. I don't plan on finding out, either.
The buck rears up and stomps the ground. His head lowers and he waves his antlers back and forth and snorts a warning to the zombie closing in. Whether he is ignorant to what they are, or just too proud to give up, it looks like he's chosen to stand his ground.
Just past the first walker, another slips into the brush and trudges forward, arms outstretched and moaning, jaw gnashing at air. A third follows closely behind. Like a collective mind, the three walkers begin to close in for the kill.
The buck charges, head down. He slams into the first cadaver, his antlers driving deep into its chest. The force of the hit effectively separates the body at the waist. Undeterred, the cadaver curls over the antlers, growling and snapping, its jaws searching for flesh.
The buck hops around, unable to break free from its attacker, who now has clumps of fur and muscle tight in its icy-fingered grasp, jaws snapping for flesh. After several attempts, the cadaver succeeds as its teeth sink into the buck's shoulder. The buck bellows an eerie howl, unaware of the other two already in arm's reach.
A chill rushes through me serving as my cue to get the hell out of there. I take off through the forest. Brush tears at my skin, the remains of my clothing offering no means to protect me.
I raise my left arm to cover my face. Branches snap across my arm, but I can't feel a damn thing. Blood begins to run across my skin, spotted with black and thick, too.
Without warning, the snapping brush beneath my feet turns to the sound of shoes scraping on gravel. I stop and lean heavily on my knees as I try desperately to catch my breath. My heart is pounding fiercely in my chest... and my leg.
I lift my head. A towering, three-story Victorian greets me in all its glory. The home of Marty Johnson. And, next to it, the most welcome sight I could ever see: Charlie's minivan resting in the driveway next to it.
I made it. Kinnelson was right. My wife and kids are here.
Newly found energy flows through me as I hurry to the house. I grab hold of the railing and heave myself up the first step. My legs, weak and shaky, are no deterrence as I ascend the old wooden steps. Just as I reach the top, the door clicks and opens to reveal the one person I couldn't be happier to see, yet want to kill all at the same time, stands before me.
It's Charlie.
I step onto the porch and steady myself. Fingers curl into fists that I raise to my chest, ready to fight. I watch... and wait.
Charlie steps through the doorway, his expression nothing of what I read from him earlier.
"Mike," Charlie questions. "Holy shit. What are you doing here?"
"Where's my family, Charlie?"
"They're inside," he mutters softly, almost weak, as he steps toward me.
I raise my fists and tense up. "Any closer and I will beat the fuck out of you."
Charlie raises his hands in surrender. "Mike, I --"
"My family, Charlie."
Charlie steps back and points to the door. "Yeah, uh - of course. Come inside."
I hesitate. Instead of rushing in, I watch Charlie for a moment. Something's wrong. His voice is shaky. Not to mention, his eyes are bloodshot and a bit puffy. Something bad has happened and it better not have been to any member of my family, or I'll fucking kill him.
Relax, Michael. Give him the benefit of the doubt. Remember, he has your family.
Right... the benefit of the doubt. Sure.
"What's going on, Charlie?"
Charlie steps towards me. I raise my fists and step back.
"That's far enough."
Charlie nods. "Mike, I wish I had words to tell you how sorry I am."
"Which part?" I know I sound like a dick. "Shooting me? Kidnapping me? Abandoning me in the fucking park when I fucking needed someone there the most?"
"Mike," Charlie closes his eyes. "I was horrible. I admit that now. But, I can't change any of it."
I watch him closer. Tears form at the corners of his eyes. Each word he speaks is slow and careful, like he's fighting back against his own emotions.
"That's not all," I pry. "Something else is wrong. What is it?"
He motions me inside.
"Inside," he manages. "Gotta close the door before more of them figure out we're in here."
There are no objections from me. I hurry across the threshold into Marty's house. I gotta hand it to the old boy, he still knows how to keep his place up. The hardwood floors still glisten beneath my feet just as I remember them. The rooms look like something you would see in a Better Homes & Gardens magazine, neat and organized, sparsely, yet elegantly furnished throughout. A model home for those who want to see how magnificent an old house can be when the time is taken to restore it.
I hear children giggle in the next room over, the living room, if I remember correctly. There's no mistaking who they are, either.
"Lexi?"
The giggles stop instantly. In its place, the faint pitter-patter of feet crescendos to thunderous proportions as my baby girl bursts from the living room door, arms outstretched.
"Daddy!"
"Baby girl," I reach out for her and scoop her up in my arms. "Are you okay?"
"Of course, Daddy," Lexi assures me. "Uncle Charlie is taking real good care of us. I was just playing Twister with Amy. Wanna see?"
Since she could speak, Lexi always called Charlie and Trish "auntie" and "uncle". And it seemed like they were, too. Charlie and Trish were more of a part of the kids’ lives than their flesh and blood aunts and uncles.
"I would love to see, baby girl," I kiss her on the forehead. "Where's Auntie Trish?"
Lexi's smile disappears as she looks past me. My head follows her look. My eyes fall on Charlie, fist clenched in front of his mouth, choking back tears. I can feel them growing in me, too.
"Oh, God," I lower my head. "Charlie, I'm sorry. When did --?"
"When I came to get Kari and the kids from you," Charlie's nervously bites on his thumb as he continues. "I thought the place was secure. I could have sworn that I checked and locked all the doors. When I got back, the back door was wide open. Those fucking things got her and she didn't even stand a chance. The bastards bit Marty, too."
My heart sinks. Just the thought of Trish being torn apart by these things makes me sick. And it pisses me off, too. Trish was a tough woman, but there's no way she would have been able to fight them off if they ganged up on her.
Trish was one of the kindest people you could ever meet. She never judged anyone, everyone always had a reason for whatever they did. Her smile could warm up an entire room, too. I don't think she even had any enemies. It's just... terrible.
"My little Amy," Charlie can barely speak. He clears his throat. "If it weren't for your Lexi - she's the only thing that's keeping my little girl from losing her mind."
"Where's Marty?"
Charlie looks up. "In his room. He's sleeping right now. Oxycodone and beer - he's not feeling any pain."
"Where's Kari?"
Nods his head toward the right hallway leading to the kitchen.
"Your boy is there, too," Charlie smiles weakly.
7 AM
HOUR EIGHTEEN
A fire lights inside of me. I feel a yearning t
hat hasn't come over me in many years. My wife and children are safe and sound, thanks to a man who, not even ten minutes ago, I wanted to kill. And I want nothing more right now, than to see them.
I step past him, head down the hall and slip in the first doorway on the right: the kitchen. Kari's chopping fruit at the center island. She doesn't even know I'm here.
Steven's sitting on a bar stool next to her, reading something - a comic, I think. He must have seen the movement in the door. He looks up and freezes. His jaw drops. Eyes wide as can be, yet blind to everything but me, he taps wildly at air until he finally hits Kari on the arm.
"What, baby?"
She looks at his eyes, then follows his stare until her eyes fall upon mine. Like two peas in a pod, they both stare at me, mouths agape.
"Hi," I blurt out, grinning.
I can see the shimmer forming at the corners of her eyes as she raises her hand to her mouth. The knife drops from her hands as she bolts around the island and up to me.
"Oh, my God," Kari cries as she wraps her arms around me, too choked up to speak another word.
I pull her close and savor the warmth of holding her in my arms. The way things are now since this all started, is completely different than before. Every meeting between a friend or loved one feels like a reunion - like you haven't seen them for an eternity, when this is how it should have felt all along. Even before everything went to shit, humanity should have cherished one another. Maybe if we would have, we wouldn't be in this situation, now.
I open my eyes and hold an arm out for my son. Steven hops down from the stool, grinning ear to ear and rushes over. I've never felt him hug me so tight, ever.
"I'm so glad to see you, Dad," his voice is muffled by my shirt.
"Are you both okay?"
Kari pulls back and smiles. "We're fine, babe. But, Trish -"
"I know," my voice nothing more than a whisper. "Charlie told me."
"Don't be hard on him," Kari sees right into me. "He is scared just like the rest of us, but now, he's hurting way more."
She's right. The words the Charlie spat at me felt like knives. To hear things like that from someone so close to you is more painful than you could ever imagine it would be. But, losing them is worse... way worse.
"How's Marty?"
Kari shakes her head. "Not so good. I can't describe it. You should go see for yourself."
If Kari doesn't have the words to describe it, then it can't be good. I do have to see it for myself. I step away from Kari but hold out my hand for her to follow. A stern head shake is a resounding no.
I head out of the kitchen and make for the staircase. Mental preparation has never been a strong suit of mine but, if he's as bad as Kari says he is, now might be a good time to throw in the extra effort.
"Where you going, Mike?"
I stop and look over my shoulder. Charlie stares at me. He's freaked out, for sure.
"If you're going up there, I'm going with you," Charlie's voice is stern.
We head up the steps. The floor boards creak beneath our feet, the same creaking I remember from high-school. As we reach the top, it feels like we've stepped into a different world - a darker world.
The second floor lacks the elegance and luster of the first. Actually, it looks like a crime scene. Blood spatters are all over the walls. A bloody handprint at eye level streaks across the wall, then around a doorway to my left.
Charlie steps in and I follow. On the sleigh-framed, Queen-size bed lies Marty. His condition looks a lot more advanced than mine, at least I think so after self-consciously examining myself. The veins in his arms and neck are dying, turning black beneath his skin, which has begun to turn a pale gray, all normal pigmentation beginning to flee. His chest rises up and down as faint snores escape his mouth and nose. At least he's still alive.
"I told you," Charlie whispers. "He's sleeping like a baby."
"He looks bad," I admit. "We need to get him help, and quick."
"Mike," Charlie turns to me and lays his hand on my shoulder. "I was wrong. I never should have judged you."
You're damn right you shouldn't have.
"You shot me," I bite back. "You have no idea, Charlie."
A sharp exhale. "You're absolutely right," Charlie doesn't protest. "I didn't. But, now I do."
"I originally came here to kill you."
"I know you did," Charlie confesses. "I knew it the moment you stepped from the woods on to the driveway. I thought I was a goner."
Charlie steps back and plops down in a rickety old rocking chair.
"I'm taking my family out of here."
Charlie straightens up. "You can't. They're safe here."
"They're safe with me."
"How are they safer with you?" Charlie's getting that look in his eyes again.
"Calm down," I urge him. Damage control is not one of my strong suits. "See, the guy you beat the crap out of after you shot me is a doctor. He's been working on an experimental drug. I've just started the treatment."
The wildness in Charlie's eyes surrenders to curiosity. "There's treatment for this?"
I nod. "I can't say for sure if it is a cure or not. I do know that the first dose was promising. But, if I don't hurry back to continue the treatment, I'm a goner."
Charlie nods slowly.
"I'm not leaving without my family, though."
Charlie sighs heavily as he stares at me. His eyes divert to Marty's unconscious body. Wheels must be turning away in his head, his eyelashes are fluttering. I hope this is a good sign, though.
"Mike," Charlie begins. "Do you think that doctor's treatment would help Marty?"
I look at Marty once again. I can only imagine that he looks now like how I would in an advanced state. His skin is already almost as lifeless-colored as those things. My eyes travel from his head to his shoulder than slowly down his arms until they stop at his hands. The nails on his right hand are starting to discolor; the nail on his pinky finger is already blackened.
"He's in pretty bad shape."
Charlie closes his eyes. "But, do you think that doctor can help him?"
"I think he can," I hope the words coming out of my mouth sounded more believable than they felt.
Charlie heaves himself from the chair. "Let's get some things together then, so we can get moving."
I smile as he pats me on the shoulder. I turn to head back down stairs. Charlie's grip tightens on my shoulder and stops me. My eyes meet his stern gaze.
"I hope he can help," Charlie begins. "Because, that's the only reason I'm letting Kari go with you."
I guess new times bring new outlooks on friends. This must be the new Charlie: an overbearing, demanding dick. I understand that with everything going on, his guard is up as high as it can possibly be. It doesn't mean he needs to be such an ass, though. But, as much of an ass he is, he's still a friend. And it means more now than it ever used to.
"I'm not going to steer you wrong," I reassure him. "I've put my trust in him and I think you'll be able to trust Marty in his hands, as well."
Charlie nods, then scoots past me and tromps down the steps with me in close pursuit. Last few steps optional, I land at the bottom and quickly round the corner into the kitchen as Charlie heads toward the living room.
"Put your knives away," I smile. "Dinner's on hold. We're going home."
A smile appears as she drops the knife, snatches a towel and wipes her hands. We both look at Steven, also bitten by the smile bug.
"Are we really going home, Dad?" Steven's voice has the excitement of Christmas morning.
I can't help but laugh. "Yes, we're going home."
I step aside as Kari and Steven head out of the kitchen. Watching them as they shuffle to the living room, I realize that this has been the first time I've laughed since everything started... and it feels great. As I rush to join them, I just hope this feeling never ends.
Halfway down the hallway, I feel a twitch in my neck. Electric-looking flashes dart across my lin
e of vision again, this time starting in my left eye and working through my right. I lose my balance and stumble into the wall. Quickly, I flip around, back against the wall and close my eyes. I'm not gonna hurry through this one, so I wait.
The world spins inside my head, faster and faster. My stomach roils along with it. I fight back the urge to throw up.
After what seems like an eternity, the queasiness stops. I open my eyes and count my blessings - I can see. That attack didn't feel as bad as the last couple, or maybe I just knew it was coming on somehow and let myself ride it out instead of fighting it. That's three in under two hours, though.
I reach the end of the hallway, by the living room. Steven and Lexi greet me with pillows and small bags in their arms.
"Don't you guys have enough pillows?"
"Uh-uh, Daddy," Lexi shakes her little head at me. "We gotta have enough for everybody."
"Oh," I surrender. "Gotcha."
Charlie peeks his head out from around the corner and flicks a set of keys at me. "Go get the van unlocked and start packing everyone in."
Simple enough, I think to myself. I motion Steven and Lexi to stay back as I head to the door. I reach for the handle and slowly pull the door open a sliver at a time, then peek out through the crack. The porch and immediate vicinity look clear as can be.
I slink around the door and step outside for a better look, and it is a good thing I did. No more than two steps out, I peek around the side of the house. Right alongside the house, between Charlie's van and the woods, stand three of them. Other than the grayish hue of their skin, none of them appear to have been turned for very long. It’s such a shame that their un-life will end a lot faster than their real life did. Too bad.
A quick scan of the area reveals my new weapon of undead destruction - a metal rake propped up against the wall at the right corner of the porch. I wrap my fingers around the handle get ready, Babe Ruth-style.
It doesn't take too long for them to spot me. I'm not even halfway down the six steps from the porch to the ground and they already have their eyes locked on me, teeth gnashing, ready for a bite of ol' Michael Roberts.
The Final Day: Complete Edition Page 11
