“Would it even start?” Rat asked.
“Probably needs a tune up, fresh oil. I’d have to look under the hood to see if the engine is okay,” Mike replied, as Bee, Centipede, and Spider joined them, weapons retrieved and cleaned of zombie debris.
“I say we leave it. Let’s check out the inside and get out of the rain for a bit,” Rat replied, ushering them towards the building, which was square in design, windowless, with a flat roof, and grey rain streaked walls.
When they reached the broken concrete steps, they ascended up onto a level platform with a flag pole on it. They looked up at the tattered American flag waving in the breeze, and then moved up to the closed double doors that still had glass in their frames. It was hard to see inside, but with their faces smashed up against the glass they could tell that the building was empty.
Centipede broke the lock and opened both doors while they all stood on the defensive just in case something did come out after them once the doors were opened. Luckily, nothing shambled out of the building. They entered with caution, and noticed that the white tiled floors extended forward into a long dark hallway that held multiple closed doors. Rat, Spider, and Centipede started opening the closed doors, while Mike turned his attention to the double doors that led into the gym. He stood by them for a moment and listened for zombie shuffling. He heard nothing, so he opened the doors and stepped inside.
The gym was filled with empty cots, lining it from wall to wall. There was also lots of discarded trash, and a healthy amount of must and dust. Mike looked up at the basketball goals, the white nets still hanging, still in good shape, and then down at the court beneath his feet. He looked up from the floor and saw folded up ping pong tables, a rolled up net lying beside two poles, and empty bleachers pushed tight against the wall. There was a dead score board announcing Home and Visitors, and bleak grey walls. The clock that once told time to a world that worried about those numbers sat dead and unmoving at the hour of 6:07. Mike looked up at the roof and saw no holes, no leaks or water damage. He knew this could not only be a great place for a Christmas celebration, but also a place where people could go to unwind in the days and months and years beyond that holiday.
“This place is huge,” Bee replied behind him.
“Shouldn’t you be helping your friends?” Mike asked, after turning to face her, heart rate returning to normal from the sudden scare.
“They got it covered,” she replied, walking around, scanning the place over. She saw a door, and opened it. Behind it was a large equipment room with lots and lots of sport’s equipment. She closed the door, and scanned the openings to the bathrooms, gender no longer an issue when it came to this day and time.
A few moments later, Rat entered the room, followed by Spider and Centipede.
“Find anything?” Mike asked when he saw them.
“Nothing much, just office stuff mostly,” Centipede replied, pretending to shoot a jump shot.
“Think it’ll work?” Rat asked, looking around.
“Think so,” Mike replied, picking up a stack of yellowed flyers sitting on a white fold out table. He thumbed through them and found that they contained information about what to do in a zombie attack, where to go for food, supplies, medical attention, where to go to register missing persons, and where to go in order to be assigned a cot.
“So, what’s the next move?”
Mike put the flyers down, and looked at Rat. “Clean it up and get it ready for Christmas,” he replied, smiling. “Do you guys know any place where we can find some holiday cheer?”
“I think I know just the place. If it isn’t picked over by now, and I’m pretty sure it isn’t,” Rat replied.
“Cool. Let’s make it happen,” Mike replied.
And from that day forward that’s just what they did. They made the Rec Center a winter wonderland, and by the time December arrived, the Rec Center shined like it used to in its former holiday glory.
+
On Christmas Eve, the day turned out to be cloudy and cold with a hint of snow in the air. Rat, Spider, and Centipede stood guard behind the Rec Center’s main gate, complete with a plastic green wreath in its center. They watched for the truck ferrying in those who were brave enough to venture out for the party. They also kept their eyes out for zombies, but there weren’t that many around, and the few they saw were easily dispatched before they could cause any harm or trouble.
Inside the building, Mike stood by the refreshment table, looking out across the gym, decked out in full Christmas cheer. You wouldn’t know there was a Zombie Apocalypse going on outside if you were standing where he was standing. There were green and red streamers hanging from the rafters in the roof, fresh pine wreaths hanging on the two basketball goals, real Christmas trees with decorations and fake presents underneath, and a boom box blasting out Christmas music. There was red punch in a crystal punch bowl, water, warm beer, and various pre-packaged deserts along with nuts and chips spread across a table draped in a white table cloth that had green Christmas trees on it.
Bee walked up to Mike while he stood there surveying the scene. “Are you going to dance?” She asked, dressed out in a Christmas sweater with dancing elves on it, pink camo pants, and black combat boots. It was an odd combo, but it seemed to fit her.
Mike looked at her as “I’ll be home for Christmas” by Jimmy Buffett started to play on the small stereo. It was one of Mike’s favorite Christmas songs by one of his favorite artists.
“There’s a certain someone that has had their eye on you. I think they would like it if you asked,” Bee replied, smiling.
“Yeah. I know. I’m just trying to get up the nerve to go talk to her,” Mike replied, adjusting his green Christmas sweater, which was sitting over a pair of jeans.
“You’ve fought countless numbers of zombies, survived for all these years, and this is what gets you scared and nervous?”
“Maybe I’m just afraid of happiness,” he replied, as he fiddled with the hair band that held his hair in a pony-tail, hair that hung to the middle of his back, hair that was a lot greyer now than it was at the start of the Apocalypse.
“You can’t dance if you don’t ask. That’s all I’m saying.”
“You’re wise beyond your age. You know that?”
She blushed and smiled at the same time. A compliment from Mike meant more to her than anything in this world. “Thanks. Now go on before someone else asks her.”
Mike nodded, took a shot of punch, and got his feet moving. He stopped when he reached her, and they both stood awkwardly together in silence while the music moved on to a song by Nat King Cole. She was a stunner, not too tall, not too short, skinny and fit, dressed out in a long sleeve red dress. She had brown hair and diamond blue eyes that sparkled when she looked up at Mike.
“Care to dance?” He asked, spitting the words out like a nervous teenager.
“I would love to, Mike,” she replied, smiling, just as nervous as him.
“How do you know my name?”
She gestured towards Bee, who waved at them, and then she mouthed the words Merry Christmas.
“That girl really looks up to you,” she replied.
“I know and it’s sweet. She means the world to me.”
“My name’s Auburn by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Auburn,” Mike replied, and held out his hand. She took it and he led her out onto the dance floor.
They were instant, automatic, meant to be, and as the afternoon led into the evening, the party drawing to a close, Mike and Auburn were still inseparable, in fact, they would be inseparable for a long time after this party.
Christmas came and Christmas went.
A new year arrived filled with hope and promise.
Auburn and Mike moved into the motel together in early spring, fortified the place, put up walls and a gate with the help of Rat and his crew, and by the time fall was on the way Auburn had developed a sizeable bump. They exchanged rings as the weather turned cool, and had a heal
thy baby boy shortly thereafter. Time drifted. It ebbed and flowed. Happiness returned to Mike’s life, and he welcomed it with wide open arms. Life was good for Mike once again.
THE END
About the Author
Contact Anthony: [email protected]
Website: awrenfro.com
I was born in Bristol, Tennessee, in 1972 and grew up in a little town in the Appalachian Mountains called Abingdon, Virginia. In those small town days I fell in love with many things, among them reading.
Reading was a way to escape from a town whose borders always seemed to be too tight. I discovered my love of writing in college, under the influence of various Stephen King novels. The first time I read a novel by him, I knew I would need to write for the rest of my life.
I took my time getting through college (10 years, to be exact), leaving and returning several times. I finally earned my degree in Media Writing in 2004. At the time, I intended to make a path in the screenwriting industry. I quickly found that writing screenplays didn’t capture me, so I turned back to writing short stories and novels. In the process, I learned to apply many screenwriting techniques to my writing. Quick, fast, and always moving forward, pumping like a heartbeat – that’s the way I shape my stories.
I also have several other loves, among them running, listening to music (Jimmy Buffett and heavy metal mostly), or just spending time with my family.
Thanks for reading and enjoying my stories.
The Mike Beem Chronicles: 6 Tales of Survival, Hope, and The Zombie Apocalypse Page 23
