Amy watched curiously as two of the walking corpses began to fight over a scrap of meat. The fracas ending only after the meat had disappeared down the gullet of one of the them. The other looked at him disgustedly, screamed then shuffled away.
Amy went to the kitchen, took several long butcher knives out of the drawer and set them on the dining room table. She then retrieved an aluminum softball bat from the laundry room. She placed it by the back door then went to her nightstand and took out her 9mm pistol. She had fired the weapon exactly once.
Oh my God, she thought. I hope I remember how to use this thing.
She had several boxes of ammunition for the pistol which she stuck in the waistband of her pants and laid the ammunition on the table. Next she gathered three flash lights and all the batteries she could find.
She topped off her cup of coffee and went to check the news again.
Amy turned to one of the local channels. They had a camera on the roof of their building filming the chaos. The living dead were ravaging the city and everyone in it. Hundreds of the un-dead filled the streets. The few living that could be seen were running for their lives. Most didn’t get far before being overtaken.
The picture then cut away to the Mayor. He was sitting in a chair in the TV studio. It looked as if he was going to make a statement. He was pale and sweating profusely. He looked very confused.
He started to speak, but it was as if he couldn't think of anything to say. A strange look came over his face and he threw up on the desk in front of him. Then he calmly pulled his pen form his pocket, held it in front of his face, and studied it closely for a moment.
Suddenly he screamed and plunged the pen into his right eye, twisting it as it went in deeper. Blood shot out and splattered the front of his shirt.
A tall heavy set man calmly stepped from behind the camera, walked up to the Mayor and hit him in the head with a steel pipe. The scream stopped and the Mayor fell from the chair.
The man reached down and took the microphone from the Mayors jacket, stepped up to the camera and spoke, "This will be the last broadcast from this station. God help us all."
There was a crashing sound and the camera swung around. Streaming through the doors of the studio, a group of the dead was coming directly at them.
The man who stepped in front of the camera with the pipe, went on the attack. He was soon overwhelmed and disappeared in the crowd. Then, the camera was rushed. The screen went blank as the camera was knocked over and blood covered the lens.
Amy sat there for a few minutes staring at the screen. Not believing what she had just seen. She turned the channel again and there was a televangelist. She didn't wait to see what his message was but was sure it had something to do with how disaster could still be diverted if only everyone would send him one thousand dollars.
The signal suddenly faded and then was gone completely. The satellite was out. She began to regret sending Tommy away. She hoped he was ok.
She retrieved the radio from the cabinet and put in new batteries. She would try to find a station that was still broadcasting later. Right now she knew she had to concentrate on turning the house into a fortress.
She double-checked all the doors and windows and made sure they were locked and properly secured. The house had a large attic. Because of possibly needing to retreat there, she decided to keep most of the food and water there just in case.
Amy was just about to pull down the ladder when she heard a scream outside. This wasn't one of the dead. It sounded like Tommy.
Running to the front window and looking out she could see Tommy peddling up the road on his bike weaving around the dead and being chased by the ones he had already passed.
Running to the back door she took a quick look outside. The coast was clear. She unlocked the door, pulled the 9mm from her waist band and ran to the hedges that separated her yard from Bob's.
Slipping through bushes she went around the back of Bob's garage and up to his back door. It was standing wide open. Bob lived alone so she hoped as she ran through his house that no one or no thing would be inside.
The front door was open. She ran to the sidewalk just as Tommy was passing, jerked him off the bike, and held him up in front of her.
"It's ok Tommy,” she said. “It's me Miss Amy."
Pushing him toward Bob's house, she screamed for him to run inside. The living dead were at their heels, howling like ravenous hyenas. Tommy made it to the house first. Amy was right behind him with one on her trail breathing down her neck.
As she reached the top of the steps she turned and raised the pistol. The zombie was close enough to grab her shirt. She clutched him by the throat and pushed him back. At the same time she put the gun to his forehead and tried to pull the trigger. Nothing.
“Shit!” she screamed. “The safety.”
She flipped the safety off with her thumb, still holding the zombie by the throat, and pulled the trigger again.
The back of the zombie’s head exploded as blood and brains splattered the ones behind it. She shoved the body down the steps as hard as she could sending it crashing into the ones behind it. They fell out onto the lawn like bowling pins.
Amy turned and rushed into the house. As she came through the doorway Tommy slammed the door shut, locked the dead bolt and latched the chain.
"Wow!" Tommy said. "That was freaking awesome!” He looked around the room. “Why are we in Mr. Jones house?"
"You'll have to trust me Tommy," she told him. "And do exactly as I say, ok?"
"Ok," he said.
"We have to go out the back door and over to my house as quickly and quietly as possible," she explained. "Follow me, stay close and keep quiet. Got it?"
"Got it," he said as he moved toward the back door.
Amy looked out and saw nothing. She could here the dead in the front. A crowd of them had gathered at the front door and were banging on and clawing at it trying to get in. She took the key out of the dead bolt and stepped out onto the back porch locking the door behind her.
Crouching they made their way beside and to the back of the garage. She looked down the driveway and saw more of the dead converging on the front of Bob’s house, alerted by the screams of the others.
Finally there were none crossing the driveway so they crossed the few feet to the hedge and made their way through and into Amy’s back yard.
Quickly and quietly they made their way to the back door and into the house. Very gently she closed the door behind them and locked it.
There was a lot of commotion next door. The walking corpses were really trying there best to get inside.
"Tommy, be quiet ok." Amy said. "Hopefully they'll give up and go away."
"Thanks," Tommy whispered. "I would have been a goner for sure. If you hadn't gone through Mr. Jones’s house to get me they would be banging on your door right now. You're a genius”.
"Shh…” Amy said putting a finger to her lips, “Quiet.”
“Ok,” Tommy whispered back.
Amy grabbed some water, went to the hallway and sat down beside Tommy on the floor. They listened to the moaning and groaning coming from the dead still trying to get into the house next door.
After a while the commotion trailed off then stopped completely. Amy went to the end of the hall and peered out the bathroom window that overlooked the driveway. From the window she had a clear view of Bob's driveway and the side and front of his house. Their driveways were up against each other and the two houses sat right beside the driveways.
The sun was up over the houses now and was shining directly on the dead. Obviously the bright light was uncomfortable to them. Most shielding their eyes and headed for cover. They didn't seem to be in pain but were clearly trying to get out of the sunlight.
She called to Tommy to check on the dog in the dining room. She had for forgotten all about her. Tommy said she wasn't there. They did a thorough search of the house and she was nowhere to be found.
“She must have ran out when
I came to get you,” she told Tommy.
They looked out the windows all around the house but there was no sign of her. She hoped the dead didn't eat dogs too. Although even if they did the chances of them catching one was pretty slim.
The streets and lawns were clear. At first she thought they were all gone but upon further observation saw them standing in the shade, under trees, beside houses and inside open garages. They were just standing around, swaying back and forth.
She was about to turn away when she noticed someone walking down the sidewalk toward her house. She squinted to see better through the crack in the blinds. It wasn’t just someone. It was the mailman. And he was walking like the lady from across the street. Lifting his feet high with each step and slapping it back down again as he moved along. He reached Amy’s house and high stepped up to the porch.. She watched him as he reached into his bag as if to retrieve something but his hand came out empty.
By this time Amy could see that the man was obviously one of the dead. Only he wasn’t like the rest. Blood soaked the side of his face and the front of his shirt. His left cheek had been ripped away leaving his teeth exposed. Shiny white enamel shone through dried blood. Bloody red spittle ran out of his mouth where there was no lip to catch it.
More than a little freaked out by now she watched as the mailman stepped off the porch and headed out across the yard. He had gone only ten yards from her doorstep when out of nowhere came Mrs. Lee’s son Brian.
He bounded across the street. She thought at first he was going to attack the mailman but at the last second he veered off. She looked in the direction he was headed and saw that he was after another one. Walking just like the mailman, it was trying to move down the street as fast as possible but obviously too slow to outrun this faster thing.
It reached the slower zombie quickly and leaped at the hapless dead man bowling him over. She watched as it grabbed the man’s zombie by the throat and ripped at his neck until the head was liberated from the rest of the body. Then he stood, raised it above his head and let out a blood curdling scream.
He then turned and sprinted off down the street. Still clutching the man’s head by the hair.
The dead who had been milling about nearby looked up for a moment then went back to killing time as they had been before. They seemed unconcerned.
The mailman’s zombie headed off in the opposite direction as quickly as it could.
“What’s happening?” Tommy asked.
“It was one of the zombies,” she said. “Brian Lee just killed it.”
“You mean it was alive?” Tommy asked.
“No... I mean.. yes. Oh my God,” she stammered. “He was one of those dead things, but, but Brian Lee tore him to pieces. It was.. just evil.”
“They’re all evil,” Tommy said.
“No this was different. The mailman was different. I don’t know. It’s all so weird,” she swallowed hard. “It’s like there are three different kinds of them.”
“Three kinds of zombies? That’s crazy,” Tommy commented.
“I know. It’s like the mailman was trying to go about his business like he did any other day. It’s like he doesn’t know he’s dead.” Amy let the words hang in the air for a moment. “And then the thing that used to be the Lee’s son. It’s not like the others. Not like the slow ones and not like the mailman.”
They went back to the hallway where they stayed for a while.
Finally Amy spoke. “I need to go and check on Abby,” she told Tommy.
She pulled the 9mm out once again, reloaded the clip, and told Tommy she was going outside for a moment. She told him to lock the door behind her very quietly and wait for her to return. She may need to get back into the house quickly.
“Can you handle a baseball bat?” she asked Tommy.
“Does a bear shit in the woods?" he said.
"Seriously?" Amy said as she handed him the bat. "You think just cause it’s the end of the world you can start talking however you want to?"
"Yep,” he replied.
Amy looked at him and grinned. “Just don’t get carried away ok?”
“Ok Miss Amy?" he said. “What are you going to do?”
"I'll explain when I get back," she said. "Also, I think under the circumstances you can just call me Amy now"
"Ok, I'll try Miss Amy," he said.
She checked her pocket to make sure she still had the key to Bob's house, unlocked the door and stepped out onto the patio. A quick look around told her she was alone in the backyard. She heard the door close and lock behind her. She studied the back yard a little closer and saw that there was nowhere for one of them to hide.
She couldn't see Bob's back yard because of the hedges. Only the roof of his garage was visible over it. She crept over to the edge of her house and looked down the driveway. The driveways were clear.
Good, she thought.
She went to the back of her yard and looked through the hedge behind Bob's garage.
“Damn it,” she said under her breath.
There was a zombie at the back of the garage. No doubt hiding from the sun.
He seemed to be asleep on his feet. She would need to comeback this way so she was going to have to take care of him now and without firing a shot.
The noise would bring the others for sure. She put the 9mm back in her waistband and looked around for another weapon. There was a large smooth rock just on the other side of the hedge. She would have to get to it without the zombie hearing her.
Slowly she belly crawled under the hedge. When she emerged on the other side he was at the other end of the garage about twenty feet away. He hadn't heard her and his back was turned. She picked up the rock.
She couldn't tell if she knew this person or not. He was covered in blood and filth. She knew she would only have one shot at this. One scream and she would be besieged.
She crept up behind him. Just at that instant the thing seemed to wake and sniff at the air. Amy froze in place. She could feel the hair stand up on the back of her neck.
The dead man suddenly turned. He swung both arms at her but she ducked, and stepped out of the way. The zombie grasped at empty space as Amy raised the rock over her head with both hands and brought it down hard.
There was a sickening sound as the rock shattered the things skull. Blood and brains poured out of the dead man’s open forehead. Blood spattered the front of her shirt.
The zombie fell to the ground. There was a moan and it was still. This time it wouldn’t get back up.
She was amazed at how calmly she went about this business of killing the dead. No remorse, no guilt. Nothing. Just complete and total indifference. She guessed it was because she knew it was kill or be killed. Although she didn't think you could actually call this killing.
They’re already dead aren’t they? she thought. The person they once were was long gone.
She dropped the rock at her feet and carefully took her shirt off being very careful not to get any of the blood on her skin.
Now with only her bra for a top she crept over to the side of the garage and looked around the corner. The back yard was clear and so was the driveway. Luckily this zombie was a loner.
She ran over to the back of the house, took the key out of her pocket and unlocked the door. She pulled out the gun, held it at the ready and stepped inside.
There was a pile of unfolded laundry sitting on top of the dryer by the door. She grabbed a t-shirt and pulled it over her head.
She proceeded to check every room. She was alone in the house.
She found a shotgun, along with four boxes of shells, in a closet in one of the bedrooms. She fumbled with it for a while to make sure she understood how it worked then loaded it and laid it on the table.
She found plenty of stuff they needed in the kitchen. Canned and dry goods. She grabbed a laundry basket and filled it with food.
She made two trips to her house, leaving the shotgun with Tommy after the first. She decided to go back for a third
time.
She was looking for batteries or whatever else they could use this time. She went into the bathroom and opened the cabinet.
She put everything of use in the sink in front of her and closed the cabinet door. Seeing movement in the mirror, she looked up in time to see the shower curtain being pushed to one side. Before she had time to react the zombie lunged at her. It tripped over the tub but managed to grab her hair as it was falling to the floor.
Amy, still in the dead man’s grasp, fell on top of him. The zombie had a firm grip on her and was pulling her closer to its face.
She managed to get her elbow on the dead man’s throat while frantically trying to get the 9mm out of her waistband. She was being pulled closer and closer to the bloody face of her attacker. She was close enough to feel the cold damp air being exhaled as it growled and snapped its teeth. Its breath was a sickening aromatic cacophony of putrid rotting flesh. She could clearly see the white gleaming bodies of tiny maggots crawling around the corners of its eyes.
Finally she was able to get a grip on the pistol. She put it to the zombies forehead and pulled the trigger.
The zombie’s head snapped back as its body relaxed and let loose its grip on her. She put another round in the top of his head for good measure. It lay unmoving beneath her.
Struggling to her feet she leaned against the wall. She stared down at the body as a pool of blood slowly spread out from underneath it.
“Shit, shit, shit!” she screamed.
Taking a deep breath she collected her thoughts for a moment, examined herself for wounds, then went back to what she had been doing.
For a brief moment she felt like crying but fought the urge.
There would be no time to cry from now on, she thought.
She stuffed the pain meds and antacids into her pockets, stepped over the zombie and out of the bathroom. She headed up the hall and to the kitchen.
As she rounded the corner she was met by another one standing at the back door blocking her path.
Still angry about being attacked she stood there staring the dead man down. She raised the pistol, aimed between the things eyes and waited for it to charge.
Soul Survivor Page 2
