by Zuko, Joseph
“Now you look beautiful,” Eve said as she helped Brea hold up the mirror to Alex’s face. There was not an ounce of makeup on her little mug, but they acted like she had been completely transformed into a beautiful princess. They ooohed and aahed. Apparently Eve had worked one hell of a miracle with that brush. Cliff loved to watch his children at play. If given the opportunity he would watch them all day every day.
Cliff stepped away from their doorway and opened the restroom door. Out of habit his eyelids dropped to slits. The room became a fuzzy haze. Morgan sat like a queen on the throne. She needed help getting her pants up and transferred back into her wheelchair. With Cliff’s eyes almost shut, Morgan looked more like an out of focus Muppet than his mother. The idea of Jim Henson’s hand up her backside running the show made him have to stifle a smile. The two of them had done this dance many times and without saying a word he lifted her by her torso. She wiggled back into her black jeans. He could feel when she was done fastening the top button and he set her slowly onto her chariot.
“Thank-you-Clifford.” Morgan smooshed the three words into one. At the retirement community that she lived in other residents and nurses would have a difficult time understanding what she was saying from time to time, but Cliff had a PHD in Morgan linguistics. He took his position behind the wheelchair and navigated her out of the small bathroom and back towards the living room.
“No problem.” Cliff patted her on the shoulder. He had almost gotten himself killed trying to get her to his apartment. He didn’t know how long they could keep her going without a real doctor or a pharmacy, but it was nice to know that he would be with her until the end.
“Can I have another beer?” She asked it with a little extra sugar on top, hoping that her sweetness would win him over.
“Maybe in a little while.”
Morgan knew her son well enough to know that he meant “No.” It was okay. She would just wait for him to be out of the room then she would ask Tina for the beer.
Jim unzipped his backpack, grabbed the plush Bert and Ernie and laid them gently on the table. So many times Jim had done puppet shows with those two dolls. He grew up on Sesame Street and could do a spot on impression of both Bert and Ernie. Valerie would ask him to do some of their famous bits over and over again. “Here fishy, fishy, fishy!” A fish jumps up into their boat. “One fish,” followed by a second fish. “Two fish. See Bert it’s easy.” Jim would say as Ernie. “How did you do that?” Bert’s voice would ask. “You have to call them really loudly.” Ernie’s voice would answer and the girls would laugh and interact with the dolls as if they were really alive and talking to them. The memory of them playing together filled Jim’s aching heart with a sliver of joy.
Then he pulled the extra knives and machete from his bag. He laid the blades out on the table next to Bert and Ernie.
“Jim?” Devon’s weak voice called across the room. Jim rushed to his side and took a seat on the floor next to Sara.
“Hey buddy, I’m here.”
Devon’s face was pale and black circles had formed around his eyes. He had a fever and was soaked with sweat. His breathing had become shallow and he struggled to take in full breaths, “Don’t risk it for me. You gotta like, find your family.”
Jim’s belt was still slung tight around Devon’s upper thigh. He was going to need to borrow one off of Cliff’s to hold his blades.
“I will find them, but first I need to get you taken care of,” Jim patted the young man on his shoulder. He gave Devon a nod and a firm squeeze to the shoulder to reaffirm that he was going to be okay. “Can you make me a list of what we’ll need?” Jim asked Tina as his tired legs got him up off the floor.
She was already scribbling the list on a piece of paper along with the building’s address, “I’m almost done.” Jim’s legs ached as he headed over to his two backpacks.
Cliff pushed Morgan’s wheelchair back into the living room, “We have company? I thought I heard voices.” She noticed Devon on the floor. His white bandage had already turned bright red. “Oh no. Is he okay?”
“He’s going to be just fine,” Tina said as she ripped the piece of paper from the pad.
Frank stood up from the table, slung his bag over his shoulder and stuck his hand out for the slip of paper. A few empty ammo boxes remained on the table after he finished reloading his two Beretta’s and their spare magazines, both banana mags for the SKS rifle and his two revolvers. Frank was loaded and ready to rock. He took the paper from Tina, gave her a nod of gratitude and tucked it into his front shirt pocket.
Jim stood at the dining table. He dug through the bag he had just packed downstairs in his apartment. He found what he was looking for, his father’s leather motorcycle riding jacket. The thick worn leather smelled wonderful and it reminded Jim of the endless summers he spent as a child riding on the back of his father’s Harley Davidson. They had taken trips together all over the northwest. One of the best rides Jim could remember taking was a two week vacation all the way to South Dakota for the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally. Jim was fourteen and every time they stopped for dinner his Dad would let him get a chocolate peanut butter milkshake. Jim sampled some of the best shakes that region had to offer. He slung his father’s old jacket onto the back of a chair.
Sara gave Devon’s hand another squeeze. His unfocused eyes shifted off the action in the living room and over to her. She was by far the prettiest girl he had ever talked to. All day long she had given him a nervous lump in his stomach. The dried blood clumped her red hair into long chunks of rope. The crud and grime that skirted her hairline only made her soft alabaster skin shine brighter. Her full lips held a perfect smile as she looked him in the eyes. Devon swore she was peering into his soul. The blood loss had made him delirious. He couldn’t control the tears that rained down his temples. The thought that he might never even get a chance to kiss this girl filled his slow beating heart with dread.
Devon was an over talker and never picked up on the fact that young girls don’t like to hear about foreign horror movies from the seventies. Even though he was a good looking guy, he talked the girl’s ear off until they found an excuse to leave him in the dust. Devon had only kissed four females, romantically. He kissed a classmate named Sasha when he was in the eighth grade at a birthday party on a dare. Brenda, when he was a sophomore at a high school Sadie Hawkins dance. His nerves got to him and he kissed her too hard and his braces nicked her bottom lip bad enough to make it bleed. At a senior party Devon had his first six pack of beer and later that night he landed a smooch on a girl, but never caught her name. The last young lady was Isabelle, and it happened four months ago after a long courtship on the internet. He finally worked up the nerve to ask her out on a proper face to face date. The date ended shortly after he described a horror film’s gruesome beheading in detail. It didn’t help matters that over a spaghetti dinner at the Olive Garden. He walked Isabelle back to her car, talking non-stop about his favorite horror trilogy she got into her vehicle and drove away forever. She reached out to shake Devon’s hand and say thank you for the meal. He moved in for an unwanted, uninvited French kiss. His tongue crashed into her face. His mouth, still salty from the bread sticks, made contact with Isabelle’s lips and her mouth became tight and unresponsive. It was one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. She wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand and said, “Thanks for dinner.” She couldn’t get into her car and start it fast enough. Her tires screeched as she pulled away leaving Devon broken-hearted and confused.
Today was different. He didn’t have a chance to yammer Sara’s ear off. He had been strong and fought bravely. This was a new world and a new day. Devon squeezed her hand back and tried to hold eye contact with her. He did his best to man up. He let the discomfort wash over him. His father always told him he needed to be a man, grow up and get some character.
Devon thought to himself.
Gunshot to the leg.
Near death experience.
This was char
acter building for sure.
Sara recognized the look in Devon’s eyes. She was no stranger to boys falling for her. At the age of thirteen she discovered just how much power she had when she won the position of Student Body President, in a landslide, with very little campaigning. She batted her brown eyes at her male classmates and they bent over backwards to make sure she won. Sara grew up watching Tobey Maguire play Spiderman on the big screen and it was ingrained in her at a young age that “With great power comes great responsibility.” Sara made sure that she never misled any of the young men. She never promised them something she couldn’t or wouldn’t follow through on.
Human hearts are fragile and not worth the bad karma if you break one.
That had been her motto for as long as she could remember.
A knife slipped out of Jim’s hand and clanged on the cheap linoleum floor. The noise pulled Sara’s attention away from Devon and she watched him retrieve the fumbled blade. A couple hours ago four boys from Sara’s neighborhood attempted to rape her. It would have been one of the scariest moments of her life, but the recent zombie apocalypse edged it out of the top spot. Barely. The depraved words and vile look in those boy’s eyes would be total nightmare fuel for Sara in the years to come. Just like Spiderman, Jim appeared out of nowhere and kicked the shit out of the villains. He saved her. She felt compelled to go with him and help get the equipment they needed to save Devon. Not just because it was the right thing to do. She genuinely felt safer around him it was like she had met a real life hero.
She didn’t consider herself a hero. She didn’t shoot spiderwebs nor climb walls, but she did have an ability. It was the power to lift young men’s spirits. She leaned over, wiped a spot on Devon’s forehead clean with her thumb, and planted a kiss on the newly cleaned spot.
“We’ll be back in a few minutes, okay? You hang in there,” She whispered to him.
Devon muscled a weak smile up at her. His heart beat a little faster as she climbed to her feet.
Jim pulled off his disgusting bloody jacket he had picked up from Big 5 Sporting Goods store earlier that day. “Cliff, do you have a spare belt I could have? Mine’s wrapped around his leg.” He emptied the pockets and found one last Five Hour Energy and the lighter with the stars and stripes emblazoned on it. Jim laid them out on the table next to the knives.
Cliff was caught a little off guard by the question. It’s not every day that someone asks to have an article of your clothing. “Yeah, I’m sure I have something.” He didn’t waste any time thinking about it. Cliff left the living room and headed to his bedroom in search of the belt.
Morgan saw her chance, “Can I have another beer?” she asked Tina quietly. There was so much going on and racing though Tina’s mind she didn’t think twice about her mother-in-law’s request and got the woman a beer from the fridge.
“Tina, do you have a garbage bag for this?” Jim held out the soiled jacket. There was no way to clean the filth embedded into its fibers.
On her way out of the kitchen Tina emerged with a Hefty bag and Morgan’s Tecate. She popped the top and handed it over to Morgan. Then she held open the plastic bag as Jim dropped the jacket into it.
“I don’t know what to even do with this mess.” Jim told her. Then it hit him. He grabbed the bag, headed for their sliding glass door, opened it and tossed the bag over the railing. It hit one of the infected zombies in the head and landed in the grass. The sudden movement and sound of the bag got the beasts all riled up and the small horde crashed into each other as they searched for the source of the noise.
Jim slid the glass door shut behind him, blocking out the crunching, smacking sounds happening in the backyard. He moved to his stash laid out on the table. Cliff reappeared with a well-worn black leather belt.
“Here, you can have this,” Cliff said as he handed it to his neighbor. He noticed his mother had a fresh beer in her hands but did not want to get into it with Tina while they had company.
“Thank you,” Jim said as he took the belt. He fed it through the loops on his pants and reattached his fixed blade knives and the machete to his waist.
Sara and Frank stood next to the door, ready to roll. Frank’s SKS rested in his big, rough hands. Sara’s blade bat that Jim put together for her laid across her shoulder as they waited for Jim to gather the last of his stuff.
The belt fit perfectly and the buckle’s prong found its home in the same exact stretched notch that Cliff had last used. Jim slipped on his leather jacket, zipped it up and placed the energy drink and lighter in the pockets. He pulled the backpack straps up onto his shoulders and clicked it tight across his chest. Tina handed him his trusty home-made spear. The wood tip of the walking stick was stained dark red and chunks of flesh hung from the razor sharp knife taped at the end.
Jim stepped closer to the married couple and lowered his voice to a whisper, “If something happens to Devon before we get back, I mean if he passes… you have to…” Jim choked on the words. He took a beat and coughed to clear his throat. “As soon as his heart stops he will be one of them. You have to take him out right away.”
“We understand,” Tina whispered.
“We’ll take care of him until you get back.” Cliff said, “Here’s a bit of advice I learned today. Know your exits before marching into the building. It might save your life,” Cliff extended his hand and they ended the conversation with a firm shake. Jim logged the info and nodded at Cliff. It was a good chunk of insight.
Cliff made a mental note after seeing Jim’s main weapon. The cleaver was good at splitting skulls but he had to get so damn close to the diseased people that it was a very risky job to take them down. He needed to make his own bladed weapon. Cliff plotted, schemed and listed out all of the possible things he had around the house that he could build into an efficient killing tool.
Jim joined his crew at the front door.
“What’s the plan?” Sara’s frayed nerves caused her voice to crack.
“I’ve got a spare key to my wife’s PT Cruiser. Frank lays down a path to the car and I do my best to keep all four tires on the road,” Jim said with a confident tone.
“Plus you’ve got to keep an eye out for car stealing church militias,” Frank said as he clicked the safety off of his rifle.
“Sounds like a plan,” Sara said as she opened the front door to Cliff and Tina’s apartment. The three of them stepped out on to the landing. They faced the makeshift wall built by Cliff at the top of the stairs. Jim sized up the obstacle. The only route they could take would be to climb over the top rail of the landing and then back over the rail on to the steps. For a moment they would be hanging ten feet from the unforgiving concrete entry with a small horde of infected zombies between them and Karen’s car.
All damn day I’ve been fighting to get home and ten minutes later I’m hitting the road again.
Jim kept his enthusiasm to himself.
Fucking fantastic! Jim thought as his free hand curled around the top rail and he quickly counted the thirty monsters that separated them from their ride.
Just fucking fantastic!
Chapter 2
The hardwood floor under Karen’s butt felt like as good a place as any to have a nervous breakdown. Penny’s dead black eyes stared through the glass door locked on the piece of meat that was her daughter. The infected salesman that had attacked Penny earlier joined her at the sliding glass door. The two of them occasionally slammed a bloody fist into the solid glass. Karen’s sore, bloodshot eyes were zoned out and looking a thousand miles away.
Karen’s mind was playing tricks on her. Every couple of minutes she would think about getting up, walking out the door and letting those two monsters tear her apart.
Just end it! Karen’s brain begged at her.
What’s the point? I’m going to end up dead anyway!
Why prolong the suffering!
Fuck it all!
Jim’s dead! Mama’s dead!
I should just join them!
H
er thoughts were not playing fair. The logic was too sound. The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. She didn’t have to step outside. She could just empty her gun’s magazine on her family and put the barrel to her temple.
Easy peasy, right?
She could just let go and stop fighting.
Robin tapped at her shoulder, “Mama, okay?” she asked.
Karen shook her head at the baby, she was not ready to talk yet. Robin dropped her head onto her Mama’s shoulder and kept patting her with a soft touch. Valerie was in the living room, giggling about something. Karen had blacked out a little and time had jumped forward. These two little people needed her to be strong. She could not let her babies down. She had gotten them this far. She just needed to be a little stronger for them and make it through the day. Karen Blackmore was strong and suicide was not her style. She knew she had to get her shit together for her family and she needed to do it fast. Sitting around and having a pity party was going to get her killed if she didn’t watch out. If this was any other day she could take the time to properly mourn the loss of her amazing Mama and her puppy dog, Paris, but not today.
I need to be tough. Karen thought.
I am tough. She told herself.
Leon helped Robin out of the wrap, and as he worked at the knot he spoke softly to Karen. He used a gentle voice. Almost a whisper. He didn’t want to startle the semi-conscious catatonic mama bear. He was unaware how dark and dire Karen’s thoughts truly were.
“I found the chapter on concussions in the medical book and we need to keep Troy awake. I kicked on a kid’s video that was in the DVD player. I hope it will hold his interest. Valerie is in his lap asking questions and that seems to be working. I haven’t told him about… her yet. That seems like a family discussion. Plus, I don’t know if the info would even register right now.” Leon got the knot loose enough to untie it. He slowly pulled Robin off Karen’s back and set her down. The little one raced out of the dining room and towards the sounds of the TV the second her feet hit the floor. Leon finished pulling the rough sheet off of Karen’s body. As the fabric unraveled from her body her torso swayed and her limbs fell limp at her side.
