by M. Lorrox
Eddy searches for these other items, then adds them to the cart. He verifies he has everything from the list before he yells to the house, “LAST CHANCE, I’M GOING TO PLACE THE ORDER!” He waits…
He doesn’t hear anything, so he continues to check out. He checks the Bitcoin price; it’s a bit higher than yesterday. Perfect. He pays with Bitcoin, completes the checkout, and files the receipt in the shared folder.
It’s about time to go. Eddy checks again that he has all his gear, and then repacks it into his bag. He gives Rusty another couple pats before heading to the kitchen with his backpack and bow. He grabs a few bottles of and tosses them into his bag.
Now I’m ready.
Sadie makes Castile soaps and various cheeses in the basement. It’s more of a hobby than a significant source of income; the family doesn’t need significant sources of income.
Sadie grew up on a farm about seven hundred years ago. She tended crops and livestock, milled flour and baked bread, butchered meat and cultured cheeses, and mixed olive oil, soda, lime, and various fragrant plants together to make soaps. For generations, she and her family performed these tasks for their own sustenance and to sell as goods for income. Over time, the land become more and more valuable, and the family leased the land to other farmers and ranchers. Today, no one in her family needs to work—and hasn’t needed to for a couple centuries—but Sadie still enjoys practicing the old ways of doing things.
She has homeschooled each of her children, and she has used cheese- and soap-making as part of their education. It always felt good to her—passing down the skills and traditions to her kids. Eddy wasn’t the most interested in cheese-making, but he loved the chemistry involved with making soap. Minnie seems to be similar in her interests; she is always delighted by the transformations that take place during the process.
But it’s not the production process that Minnie loves most; it’s the farmers’ market that gives Minnie the greatest joy. She loves touching and smelling all the flowers that the greenhouse growers provide, and she loves tasting all the samples of fruits and vegetables from the local gardeners. Her senses must be getting stronger now—the scents, tastes, colors, and textures are probably becoming very vibrant to her. Perhaps that’s why she’s been less interested in cheese-making this week; the bleus can certainly smell a little foul.
“Mommy…” Minnie calls up to Sadie, who was lost in thought.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Minnie. Where was I…” She collects herself and looks back at the shelves of the basement refrigerator.
“I got the lavender soap.”
Sadie turns around and sees Minnie standing beside the old oak table near the stairs leading up to the house. Minnie has piled up all the lavender soap. “Great job, sweetie! Now can you get the sage?”
“What color is it?”
Sadie feigns confusion. “I don’t remember.” She looks down, then softly grabs her daughter’s nose and wiggles it. “You better use your nose.” Minnie smiles and skips away while Sadie organizes cheese into a large cooler. She hears a dull bang.
“Ow!” Minnie cries out in pain.
“What is it, Minnie?”
Amid whimpers, “I stubbed my toe on your trunk.”
“Oh no! Are you okay?” On her way to Minnie, Sadie drops the cooler off at the base of the stairs. She takes her time.
“Yeah, I’m okay. It just hurt for a second.”
Sadie bends down in front of Minnie. “Which foot?”
She holds up her left foot.
Sadie inspects the foot clad in a little white-and-blue sneaker. “Well, it looks like it’s still attached.”
“Mommy, of course it is.” Minnie takes her foot back and stands up. “I’m fine.”
“Well, good then. Do you need help finding the sage soap?”
Minnie turns to the shelf by the trunk “No. I can find it.” She opens the containers one by one and smells their contents.
Sadie smiles as she watches, but after a moment she looks at her trunk, and her smile fades away. The warm glow in her eyes cools, but she fights the feelings down. She looks back at Minnie and sees her daughter’s golden hair shine as she bends down to open another container. Oh, darling, what does your future hold? Will you be their light in the darkness?
Minnie snaps up and turns around. “Found them!”
“Yes, you did. Let’s bring them today.”
They make some trips up the stairs and set the goods down in the garage. Eddy hears them and comes over to help. He loads everything into the Jeep.
Down the road at Skip’s house, June is ready to go. She walks outside with her archery bag and sets it down next to her dad and the truck. He’s got a little stereo on the ground in front of the truck playing a CD of some Chili Peppers music while he works under the hood.
“How’s it going Dad?”
-CreeeNAP! Ting, ting, ting-
Skip leans up from under the hood and sighs. “Ugh, could be better. I’m having trouble getting this retaining bolt off. The only wrench I can reach it with is a little too big, so it keeps slipping off…and rounding the edges a bit.” He shrugs.
June shows a glint in her eye. She smiles and puts on a tough-guy redneck accent. “Want me da snake ma arm up in that-thar engin’?” She raises her eyebrows and waits for her dad’s response. She loves helping him work on cars, and she’s become very good at it.
Skip slurs on a similar accent. “Wells, long as you don’t mind gettin’ a li’l dirteh!” He hands June a different wrench—one that’s shorter and also the correct size for the bolt. He drops the act and grabs a vacuum hose that curves its way down around the engine. He wiggles it and points. “It’s the little guy there, down alongside this hose.”
June grabs a rag, sets it near where her arm will be, and tries her luck. “You sure that’s the right size? Oh…never mind. Yeah, it’s right.” She squints and turns her head as she tries to loosen the bolt. “Did you spray it with oil?”
“Yyyuuup, all lubed up—”
“Hey, guys, what are you working on?” Eddy had snuck up on them, and he sticks his head under the hood.
Skip jolts. “Eddy, I didn’t hear you.” He glances to the gate on his fence. It’s still closed. How did he get in here without making a sound?
Eddy is looking at June, who had smiled at him, but who now is making the weirdest/cutest face as she struggles with the bolt. She groans with some exertion, and -clink-.
She’d loosened the bolt and had spun it until the wrench hit against another part of the engine. “Got it!”
Skip smiles at his daughter. “Thank you, June.” Then he turns to face Eddy. “You’re going to practice archery with some other kids?”
“Yes, sir. My mom is going to drop us off.” He motions to the Jeep parked alongside the road.
June wipes off her hands and grabs her bag.
Skip raises his hand. “Okay. Remember what we’ve been working on; there’s some wind, so it’ll be good practice.”
Eddy nods. “I remember. I’ll try and gauge it as best I can.”
“Good.”
June takes a breath and smiles at her dad.
“Okay, well, have fun.”
The two teens start walking toward the gate. They’re almost there when Skip hollers over to them.
“June—”
They both pause and turn.
“Yes, Dad?”
Skip’s eyes dance back and forth between the two as they stand near the gate. He sets his gaze to June and motions to Eddy. “Take care of that one.”
They both laugh.
“Yes, Dad. I will.”
As June opens the gate, its hinges squeal, then the clasp clangs shut as it closes behind them.
When the Jeep drives off, Skip walks over to the gate, the lubricating oil sprayer in his hand. He raises the can up to the hinge—to give it a good coating to address its squeal—but he pauses. His eyes flick down the road to the Jeep diminishing in the distance, then back at the hinges of
the gate. He decides that the gate should stay noisy.
He lowers the can and walks back to his truck.
Sadie and Minnie are singing together in the car when Eddy and June join them. Eddy hops in the front while June gets in the back, next to Minnie.
“Caught in the sun, you are done! No more ice cream—no more fun!”
Minnie giggles.
Sadie smiles to Eddy and June. “We were just talking about sunscreen. Do you have some, Eddy?”
Eddy rolls his eyes. “Yes, Mom, I have sunscreen.” He can tell that his mom’s eyes are still questioning him. “And I already put some on.” He glances and smiles to June. “Do you have sunscreen?”
She laughs as she pulls something out of her bag. “No, but I have this big hat!” She puts it on and turns to Minnie. “What do you think, Minnie? Does it look good on me?”
Minnie purses her lips while she makes her determination, then smiles. “It looks beautiful.”
Charlie hates zombies. A lot. He’s dressed in jeans, work boots, and a raincoat. He takes another look out into the yard—at his newest enemies.
What to dispatch you with…
He looks at his weapons on the shelf.
Sorry, boys, you’ll have to sit this one out. This is gonna get messy—you won’t like it.
He turns and looks around in the garage. Mr. Shovel? Where are you?
He walks to the far side of his toolbox, but it’s not there. Must be in the shed. He sighs. FINE.
One by one, Charlie looks through the drawers of his toolbox. He sees a pipe that’s about eighteen inches long, a little shorter than a kung fu short stick. Usually the only action the pipe sees is when it’s slipped over a wrench in order to extend the handle for greater leverage—but not today. Charlie picks up the pipe. “Today’s your lucky day.”
He glances back out the window at the zombies. “Well, I guess it’s your unlucky day.” He zips up his raincoat and thinks.
Step one: Secure the ground. Zombies can make a lot of noise when they’re trying to feed, and other zombies will come running toward the sounds like vermin. Charlie walks into the house so he can look out the window at the gate—it’s open. He walks back to the garage and presses one of the control buttons on the wall. He listens to the motor outside pulling the chains through the gears, then he hears the clang of the gate shutting. No more can get in, and these filthy stinkers can’t get out.
Step two: Acquire strategic advantage. Even though Charlie is an experienced warrior and a powerful, old vampire, he can still be killed. All they’d have to do is eat him—which is exactly what they’ll be trying to do. One could bite Charlie, and he would then put his fist through its skull. His body would heal the wound like it was any other; a vampire can’t get infected with the zombie virus. But if there were enough of them, or if he got knocked unconscious, he could be transformed into zombie poop.
Charlie is not invincible, and he knows this. He lists his assets. Number one: ME. I need some blood—the good stuff. He walks to the fridge and chugs some fresh blood from a pitcher. Check.
Asset two: weapons. Pipe, then shovel. Check.
Asset three: attack strategy. Keep moving. Watch your back. Circle the house. Smash zombie skulls. Check.
Asset four: escape plan. Get on the roof and call Sadie or Skip. Charlie pats his pockets, looking for his phone. He has it. Check.
Step three: Final assessment. What could go wrong? Are there any variables? Charlie looks out the window again. He sees fewer zombies. They were probably drawn out front to the gate. He looks at the sky; the sun is still low and he just had some blood, so UV radiation won’t be an issue—at least not for an hour or so.
I wonder if those humans are still on the roof, or if they’re zombies too, now. Hmm…either way, I have to go bust some heads.
He looks at the pipe and then his hands. Gloves wouldn’t hurt. He puts on a pair of work gloves.
Step four: Execute!
Charlie takes a deep breath. Then, as quietly as he can, he unlocks the back door, opens it, walks outside, and shuts the door behind him.
-click-
Sadie drives the kids to school where they can practice archery. With the zombie outbreak and general chaos all around, she and the other members of the school board voted to allow “alternative activities” at school. They also modified the budget to cover the additional expenses of providing around the clock, 24/7 security resources to the school grounds. The main campus has a large grassy area along the side that has been converted into a multiuse area, and it’s set up for archery practice on the weekends.
As Sadie drives, she steers around a few walkers. When kids are in the car, she does her best to not run over any of them, but sometimes they’re unavoidable. Dead zombies are piled on the sides of the road for collection and burning—the stench can be awful. From the piles on the roads this morning, it’s clear that the volunteer squad hasn’t made it over to this side of town yet.
There’s a bit of wind today, and Sadie drives into a passing cloud of smoke and ash. She slows down when her visibility is reduced below what she’s comfortable with. The A/C is on, and the recirculate button on the Jeep’s dash has been getting more and more use these past few weeks.
Sadie emerges from the smoke and swerves to avoid a zombie on the other side. The Jeep barely misses it. “What’s the plan for later? Do you need a ride back home?”
June looks at Eddy, wondering if he’s going to answer or if Sadie was actually asking her.
Eddy answers, “I don’t know. If we need a ride, can we call you?”
“Sure, but it would have to be after the market closes.”
June glances at Sadie through the rearview mirror. “Thanks, Mrs. Costanza. My dad is working on the truck again, and from the looks of the engine, it’ll be torn down for a couple hours.”
“You have certainly become very knowledgeable about mechanics and engines, haven’t you?” Sadie smiles into the mirror.
“I think it’s really cool that all the parts fit and work together so perfectly. It’s amazing.”
Eddy makes a small turn to look over his shoulder into the back, but he catches himself. Our parts would fit and work together, the joker inside him thinks. Somehow, though, the thought doesn’t only grow a smile. Eddy shakes his head and takes a deep breath. He looks out the window as they pass through an intersection.
“Hey, Mom, did you see down Walnut Street?”
“No, why?”
“There were troops and armored trucks—a lot of them.”
Sadie instinctively looks in her mirrors, but she can’t see any signs of the military action behind her. She frowns. Can’t be good. “I bet they’re running exercises or establishing a perimeter.”
-Clack, clack, clack, clack-
-Clack, clack, clack, clack-
“And target practicing.” Sadie turns a corner and heads up a steep hill on the way to the school. She passes some of the town’s security forces dedicated to protecting the area. They wave to her.
She waves back. “Listen, guys. Remember: whatever happens, stay here at school. You’re safe here. You got that?”
Eddy and June both respond.
“Yes, Mom.”
“Yes, Mrs. Costanza.”
“Oh, and Eddy, remember that we’ve got a guest tonight. Be home at six.”
“Okay, Mom.”
She drops them off near the archery practice area, then drives away. June looks at Eddy.
“What’s the deal with that sunblock song?”
He pulls out his signature metallic-red sunglasses and slips them on. “Just my mom homeschooling Minnie, teaching her about sun dangers or something. We had an uncle that died of skin cancer.”
“That’s horrible… I’m sorry.”
Eddy looks at her and sees the concern in her eyes—for him. “Oh, it’s okay. I never met him, and he was rrreeeeeally old…”
The two kids walk over to the shooting area where Joe, Jess, and Tomas have
already set up some gear. As they walk, Eddy takes another sip of his drink, and then stows the bottle away in his bag.
Charlie quietly and cautiously makes his way to the shed in the backyard to get the shovel. He’s halfway there when he hears a zombie growl. He turns to see it sprinting straight toward him.
“Come and get it.” Charlie looks around and checks the locations of the other zombies. There are three barreling down on him now. He positions himself so that the fence is against his back, and the three are coming at him from the front and from one side. He runs at the first zombie and intercepts it.
It was a her, but not anymore. Now she’s an it—a zombie—with a broken jaw, matted hair, gray skin, and torn fingertips that reveal bone. Thinking of it as a her—a person—only makes this harder.
The zombie is excited to see its prey running straight toward its grasp. Charlie rips the top half of its skull off with a swing of the pipe. He dodges the decrepit body as momentum carries it another eight feet before coming to a peaceful rest on the ground.
Charlie runs toward the next zombie as the top of the skull from the first zombie spins through the air. With his enhanced vampire senses, the skullcap does so in slow motion. As it rockets toward left field, the hair, black blood, and brain matter fly outward from the spinning fragments—like a miniaturized spiral galaxy, of zombie filth instead of stars.
The next zombie has its arms outstretched, reaching for a meal, but Charlie ducks and steps to the side. As soon as the arm passes over Charlie, he stands back up and strikes. He hits it with a backhanded blow with the pipe. The strike lands at the base of its neck, removing its entire head.
The last of the three zombies is nearby, but it can’t run as fast. It looks like one leg is messed up somehow—maybe it was partially eaten off. As Charlie turns to face it, however, he hears zombies from the front yard coming at him. How many is that? Six? He can see three that have crossed into the backyard and are already running toward him.
Charlie doesn’t have much time. He turns and sprints to the shed. He counts as he runs and thinks there are eight zombies after him: three moving slow, three moving fast, and two more that are mere seconds behind him.
