by Kody Boye
“Shit,” Steve breathed.
“What’re they doing?” Dakota asked, frowning as they pulled to a stop. A third man exited the vehicle, drew a pistol, and blew the brains out of an advancing corpse. “They’re just drawing more by shooting.”
“I don’t know. Let’s wait and see.”
Four men in total stood on or around the truck, frantically gesturing at the area. The man who emerged from the driver’s seat threw a hand up in the air and stabbed a finger toward one of the buildings.
Steve and Dakota froze.
“Close the curtain, Steve,” Dakota whispered.
“I’m doing it,” Steve said, carefully pulling the curtain back into its original position.
One of the men cried out and pointed at the window.
Dakota tore the curtain out of Steve’s grasp and pulled it over the window. “They saw us,” he breathed, grimacing as another gunshot rang out. He half expected it to come through the window and hit one of them. “What the hell do we do?”
“I don’t know,” Steve said, tangling his hands through his hair. “Fuck, Dakota. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
“We can’t stay here. They know where we are.”
“What do you suggest we do then? Run?”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”
“We don’t have anywhere to go!”
“What do you expect us to do Steve? Wait here until they find us? Shoot back? You saw what they were carrying. They’ve got shotguns. I even thought I saw the guy in the passenger seat holding an uzi.”
“A what?
“A machinegun you idiot!”
“I know what the fuck an uzi is!”
“Then why the hell did you ask?”
“Stop,” Steve said, pressing a hand to his forehead. “We gotta figure out what we’re gonna do.”
“There’s only two things we can do: stay or run. I don’t think staying’s a good idea. Not only are we gonna to have to deal with them, we’re gonna have to deal with the zombies once they get here.”
“Goddammit!” Steve cried, tearing into the kitchen. “God fucking dammit!”
Grabbing the backpack that sat on the floor, Steve pulled the small box of supplies off the top of the fridge and began shoving everything into the bag. Not sure what to do, Dakota grabbed his own backpack and headed for the bathroom, where he opened the medicine cabinet and pulled anything he could off the shelves. Most of it was useless, but they didn’t have time to sort through their belongings.
They could be here at any moment.
Dakota slung the pack over his shoulder and made his way out of the bathroom. Steve stood in the living room, loading a gun Dakota hadn’t seen before. “Where’d you get that?”
“Supermarket,” Steve gasped, inhaling a breath. “I found it in the office. Apparently the manager had a penchant for firearms. He had a whole case of ammo too.”
“Give it to me.”
“I’m working on it, Dakota. Fuck. Give me a second.”
“We don’t have a second, Steve.”
Steve grabbed the box of ammo sitting on the couch and passed it over. Shoving it into his backpack, Dakota took a moment to familiarize himself with the gun Steve offered soon after—what appeared to be a standard-issue pistol—then accepted a freshly-loaded clip his friend offered.
A crash froze them both in place.
“First floor,” Steve said. “Janitor’s office.”
“That means they’ve only got three floors left.”
“Fuck that.” Steve threw his backpack over his shoulder and pulled the curtains aside. The gang’s truck sat idling on the side of the street, though no one stood nearby. “We gotta go out the window.”
“What about the fire escape?”
“It’s out in the hall. There’s no way we can risk it.” A spray of gunfire sounded. Dakota felt something fall under their feet. “No time to wait.”
“Can we scale down the roof?”
“Yeah. It’s just a slide and a short drop to the balconies below.”
“What if one of us falls?”
“We won’t fall.”
Footsteps echoed into the hall. Steve pulled the window open, then peered out and around the corner. When he gestured him forward, Dakota sighed, took a deep breath, then climbed out and onto the roof.
Immediately, his foot caught and he began to slide forward.
Shit.
“Steve!” he hissed, pushing his weight back to slow his descent.
“I’m right here,” Steve said, peering down at the balconies. “You go first.”
“Why me?”
“Just do it!”
Dakota jumped and landed on the balcony below with little more than a grunt. Steve, however, wasn’t so lucky. His momentum lost by the sound of the apartment door caving in, he landed on the railing and would’ve went over had Dakota not lunged forward and grabbed his shirt.
“Thanks,” Steve breathed. “That’s twice you saved my ass.”
“You can thank me later,” Dakota whispered, pulling Steve deeper onto the balcony.
“Where’d they go?” one of the men cried.
“Fuck them!” another responded.
Steve reached for the glass door that separated them from the inside of the third-floor apartment.
Dakota swallowed a lump in his throat.
Come on.
The door slid aside under the force of Steve’s hand.
They stepped into the apartment without so much as a gasp.
“That was close,” Steve sighed.
A zombie stepped out of a nearby room. Steve raised his gun.
“No,” Dakota said. He grabbed a statue of Atlas bearing the world on his shoulders from a nearby shelf and slammed it into the creature’s face. Caught off-guard, the zombie stumbled into the wall, leaving its head perfectly open for a second, then third hit. Its skull cracked under the pressure and shards of bone cascaded from its face like rain from freshly-formed clouds when Dakota delivered a second hit into its nose. Not a sound was made throughout the entire ordeal until the zombie fell to the floor, now permanently dead.
“Shit,” Steve said. “You’re a badass, Dakota.”
“I try,” Dakota replied. He slammed the statue into the zombie’s skull one last time, then let it fall to the floor. “What now?”
“We wait,” Steve said. “It’ll be dark soon.”
“You think they’ll try looking for us?”
“I doubt it. For all they know, we’re already long gone.”
After the sun set and their fear escalated to a screaming pitch, they fled the apartment building and made their way down a long stretch of road. Guns drawn, a single flashlight aimed in front of their feet, they made their way around long-dead cars and the occasional piece of debris. Though quiet and without a sound, the night offered no solace for Dakota’s troubled mind.
“Where do we head from here?” Dakota asked, grimacing as he heard something rustle in the tree overhead.
“No clue,” Steve sighed. He straightened his posture and ran a hand through his hair, grimacing as his fingers crested the curve of his skull.
“Something wrong?”
“I’ve got a headache. That’s all.”
“You want some Tylenol?”
“Not now. Maybe later, after we figure out where we’re going.”
“Let’s think logically,” Dakota said, resting his gun against his thigh. “What’s on this street?”
“I dunno. Houses, a school, maybe a church.”
“A church?”
“One of those universal ‘Love in Christ’ ones.”
“You think it’s worth trying there?”
“Maybe, but not unless we absolutely have to. I don’t like the idea of going into a church that probably had tons of people in it right before…you know.”
Yeah, Dakota thought. I know.
Televangelists had flooded the airwaves after the CDC announced the true happen
ings in New York. God, they said, was punishing them for everything they’d done wrong. For the people they killed, for the wars they fought, for the babies that didn’t get to live and the abomination of sin. He’d punished them by opening the doors to Hell, the good men said, and letting all the dead run free. People were easily persuaded when told they were being punished by God. It didn’t matter that the government had confirmed that a virus was bringing the dead back to life; by that time, most of the west coast had fallen and people were scrambling for any sense of faith they could hold on to. Mass suicides swept the nation and the churches filled to bursting. Baptisms rose, confessionals stopped running, and priests were summoned to the front lines, only to be shown that God wouldn’t protect them in their time of need.
People knew it was over when the Pope rose up and took a bite out of one of his priests.
When it finally did end, people were hardly even aware of it.
“Dakota?” Steve asked. “Thinkin’ about something?”
“The church,” he said. “I don’t even want to think about going in there, let alone actually do it.”
“No worries then. We’ll figure out something.”
Shaking his head, Steve tapped Dakota’s shoulder and continued forward, once again hunching his shoulders and aiming his flashlight toward the ground.
Dakota had little choice but to follow.
Their pursuit for shelter eventually led them to an abandoned front porch. Tired, nervous and unsure of their next destination, Dakota settled down with worry in his heart and doubt in his mind, content to have stopped, but afraid of what was to come.
It’ll be ok, he thought, shifting further back into the shadows. Nothing’s going to see us in the dark.
Though he couldn’t necessarily be sure, he consoled himself with the idea that zombies, like people, couldn’t see in the dark.
Dakota leaned back and set his head against the wall, tilting his face up to allow himself a view of the sky. Shrouded behind a veil of cloud, the moon winked at him with its pearly, opalescent eye, taunting him in his moment of doubt. It could easily move at any moment, throwing them to the wolves and the teeth they bore, but he didn’t think that would happen. No, the moon would allow them respite, if only for a moment.
“Steve?” he whispered, reaching for his friend.
A hand grasped around his wrist. Dakota jumped, but managed to withhold his cry of surprise.
“It’s just me,” Steve said.
“You think we should try to get in?” Dakota gasped, still recovering from his sudden scare.
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Why wouldn’t we?”
“I’m afraid of breaking the glass on the door. I don’t want to make any noise.”
“What’re we supposed to do then? Wait out here?”
“I already told you, Dakota, I’m not sure. We shot down the church idea, so we either break into a house or see if we can get into the school—which, to be honest, kind of freaks me out. All those kids…” Steve shivered and released his hold on Dakota’s hand to brush his forearms. “Creeps me out.”
“I get what you mean,” Dakota sighed, “but sitting here isn’t helping us any.”
“We haven’t seen any zombies, so I don’t see—”
“Wait.” Dakota held up a hand, concentrating on something he thought he’d just heard.
“What are you—”
“Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“That.” What sounded like footsteps echoed inside the house, as though someone had stepped out of a hall and was making their way toward the front door. “You hear that, or am I just imagining things?”
“I hear it,” Steve said, propping himself up on one knee.
“You think it’s a zombie?”
“I don’t know.” Dakota saw Steve fingering the safety on his pistol in the faint glimmer of moonlight that shined through the screens on the porch. He seemed tense, pressed into a situation where he might have to reveal their location in order to protect them. “Look through the window. See if you can see anything.”
“What if something sees us?”
“If there’re any zombies, we run. If there are people…” Steve shook his head. “No harm in looking.”
Unless there’s zombies, Dakota thought, but kept his silence. Leaning forward, he pressed his face to the glass and braced his hands around his eyes, squinting in the hopes that whatever was moving around inside would reveal itself. “I don’t--” he started, but a flicker of movement crossed the room before Dakota could blink.
The door opened.
Steve raised his gun.
A man stood in the threshold, arms raised and face skewed with surprise. “Hello.”
“Hello,” Steve said, raising an eyebrow. “Are you here alone?”
“No, my wife, she—”
“Are either of you bit?”
“No, we’re not. Do you gentlemen want to come inside?”
“We’d appreciate it,” Dakota said, waiting to see if Steve would make any further comment. When he didn’t, Dakota stepped forward and held his hand out for the man. “Hi. I’m Dakota Travis.”
“My name’s Gerald,” the man said, taking Dakota’s hand. “Please, come inside. This is no place to be out in the cold.”
“Where did you come from?” Gerald asked, setting a pot of warm coffee in front of them.
“The Domino Apartments,” Steve said, nodding his approval as he poured both himself and Dakota a cup of coffee. “We’d still be there if it weren’t for that gang.”
“Gang?”
“You know, the guys in the red truck.”
“Oh,” Gerald nodded. “Them.”
“You’ve seen them?” Dakota asked.
“Yes. They’ve been tearing through the streets here the past couple of nights. I can’t say I hate them, seeing as how they’ve been killing the corpses, but I can’t say I like them either.”
“How come?”
“They took someone hostage. I heard the guy yelling something about not having any food or money right before they pulled him out of the house. Used to be a neighbor. Not anymore.”
Steve sipped his coffee, brown eyes watching the older, greying man across from them. Dakota watched them for a brief moment, but was distracted by the sight of a woman ducking back into what appeared to be a bedroom. “Sir?” Dakota said. “Was that your wife?”
“That’s Elise all right.”
“Is something the matter?” Steve asked.
“She’s a bit…troubled, to be honest.”
“How so?”
“It’s not my place to say, Mr. Earnest, especially since it’s my wife’s business, but I’ll be honest, she’s a bit wrecked over the current circumstances. I’m surprised she’s out of her room, let alone taking the time to see whom I’ve let into the house.”
“We’re ok to stay here, though,” Dakota asked. “Right?”
“You’re both fine. I have no intentions of kicking either of you out, but you’re forewarned, she’s of the opinion that God’s taken it upon himself to punish us for what we’ve done.”
Judgment Day.
Dakota shivered. He picked up his coffee and sipped it, but knew his gesture was not unseen. Steve’s wandering eyes made that more than clear.
“Is there something I should be aware of?” Gerald frowned, leaning back in his seat.
“Nothing of particular worry,” Steve said, once again glancing at Dakota. “At least, I don’t think there is.”
“It’s nothing that would be mentioned for any reason whatsoever, at least not intentionally.”
“Neither of you are bit,” Gerald said. “Right?”
“No,” Steve said. “It’s nothing like that at all. I think Dakota’s more so referring to the fact that he’s—”
“Gay,” Dakota finished. As he’d expected, Gerald said nothing. However, unlike what he’d initially anticipated, the man didn’t show any overt shock either.
“That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”
“Not unless you say something, no, I don’t believe so. Elise is fundamentalist, yes, but I don’t think she’d go out of her way to start something.”
“Can never trust that,” Steve mumbled. Dakota merely shrugged.
“Anyhow,” Gerald said, rising. “I trust you gentlemen must be hungry, given your circumstances. Would you like something to eat? I’ve just made Elise and I some popcorn, though I can’t guarantee it’ll taste very good.”
“Popcorn’s good,” Dakota said. “Right, Steve?”
“Definitely,” Steve agreed.
Smiling, Gerald nodded and left the room, disappearing into what Dakota assumed was the kitchen. When he was sure Gerald wouldn’t return within a short amount of time, Dakota leaned forward and offered Steve the worst glare he could muster. “What?” Steve asked.
“What the hell was that all about?”
“If the woman’s a nutter, it’s better he knows you’re gay than if he doesn’t. I was testing him out.”
“You know how people are in these parts,” Dakota growled. “Goddammit, Steve, if there was one stupid thing you could’ve done, it would be this.”
“Don’t start ratting on me. At least I got us somewhere safe.”
“You?”
“I was the one who decided to go down this street.”
“That doesn’t matter! And it doesn’t mean we’re safe eith—”
“Sorry for taking so long,” Gerald said, stepping into the room with the bowl of popcorn. “Here you go, gentlemen.”
“Thanks,” Dakota said. He took a handful of popcorn, stuck it into his mouth, then sighed. He chewed what was in his mouth before looking back at Steve.
Steve reached over to slap Dakota’s arm. “Hey, bud, it’s cool.”
Shrugging, Gerald set the bowl of popcorn before them and reseated himself. After leaning forward and taking a handful of popcorn for himself, he set his hands between his knees and watched both Dakota and Steve with unsure eyes. “Where do you plan on heading now that your apartment’s been taken over?”
“No idea,” Steve said. “We’ve been holed up there since the beginning. Now that we don’t have it…”
“It’s like we’re lost,” Dakota finished. When Steve nodded, Dakota leaned back and closed his eyes. He sat there a moment, waiting to see if someone would reply. When no one did, he opened his eyes. “I guess the only thing we can do is wait and see what happens,” he said.
