Dead Fall

by Joseph Xand

  Beechum pounded a third time and was about to walk away when he heard the door unlock. Phillips opened the door about a foot. His face was long and pale, and he smelled like liquor and shit.

  Beechum could hear something beyond the door. Squeaking. Groaning.

  "We're headin' out in five," Beechum said. "You comin'?"

  Phillips nodded. "Just let me put some clothes on."

  Phillips turned around and only half-shut the door, and it was then that Beechum realized Phillips was naked.

  And it was with Phillips out of the doorway that Beechum could see the fold-out twin bed. And the dead girl on it, also naked, strapped down and fighting against her restraints.

  Chapter 13

  "I THINK WE'RE BEING followed."

  They were pushing their bikes in a single-file line with Lizzy in the lead. Brandon looked behind them and scanned around.

  "A zombie?" he asked.

  "I don't know. I don't think so. Zombies don't hide when they follow you."

  They'd lost track of how many days they'd been heading due north, following Interstate 83 out of Amish country. Traveling beside it rather than directly on it to keep out of plain sight as much as possible. At first, they stayed on the bikes to make sure they stayed ahead of the wildfires. Soon the fires were no longer an issue. Either they dissipated when a series of storms swept through or the winds blew them in a different direction.

  Either way, Brandon and Lizzy felt safe enough to do less riding and more walking. They considered ditching the bikes altogether as their bikes made it that much harder to stay off the roads. Plus, much of the travel as of late had been uphill, and it was hard enough carrying their packs, much less pushing bikes as well.

  And with the wildfires out of the picture, they talked about turning south and heading back the way they had come, maybe see if there were any farmhouses still standing and, if so, wintering in the quiet Amish countryside.

  If not, they could keep heading south. The only reason they hadn't turned around already was because there was no solid proof that the fires were completely finished, nor did they know how extensive an area was decimated by the fires. For all they knew, they could be walking into a wasteland stretching thousands of square miles, making survival that much more arduous. So although they frequently talked about turning around, they still trekked slowly northward.

  Brandon didn't see anyone following them, but he also knew better than to doubt his sister. When they'd spent as much time alone as they had, the existence of someone else in close proximity could feel like a weight pressing on the atmosphere. Less a presence of people than the ambiance of them.

  Across the street, set between two giant outlet malls, was a daycare center. It was built to look like an old-time schoolhouse with wood siding painted red and trimmed in white. The roof was steep and gabled and set atop of it was a belfry that had likely been just for show. On either side of the schoolhouse, a tall, wood fence created a barrier of safety for past-children to play on the playground.

  A tall, twisting slide rose from within the fence and behind that, in the background, trees could be seen, etching a line that led to a sparsely forested area in the middle of the commercial hub.

  The windows and doors of the daycare center were boarded up from the outside, and Brandon could see the front door open between the planks.

  To the left of the daycare center's front parking lot, across a narrow, dead-end drive, three corpses shuffled around the back lot of a series of outlet stores. None had noticed Lizzy or her brother yet.

  "Follow me," Brandon told his sister.

  Lizzy paused to let him take the lead. He pushed his bike into the daycare's driveway, straight up to the front door, and leaned it against the wall. Pausing only for an instant, realizing she trusted Brandon completely, Lizzy leaned her bike along the same wall.

  Brandon took off his rucksack and found the flashlight he kept tucked in the side pouch. Turning it on, he shined it between the slats of wood, taking in as much of the daycare as he could given his limited field of view.

  "Hello?" he called into the darkness. "Anyone in there?" Satisfied the building was unoccupied, he extinguished the flashlight and stuck it in his pocket. He gave the wood nailed across the doorway a quick tug to see if it would fall away easily, but it held tight.

  Brandon pulled the baseball bat from his back, then looked around behind them. He still didn't see anyone watching. He wondered where he would hide were he following someone. His eyes fell on a pair of dumpsters back the way they'd came. It seemed like an obvious choice. He looked over at the trio of the dead, still oblivious to their presence, then, after a side glance at his sister, raised the aluminum bat above his head.

  "Here goes," he said. With all his might he began pounding on the wood planks.

  The zombies took notice.

  "Brandon, stop it. You're making too much noise."

  He continued to slam the bat down. The planks either came loose of the screws holding them in place or splintered to pieces. One by one they began to fall away.

  Just as the corpses were entering the daycare parking lot, having crossed the street, Brandon made a hole large enough for them to squeeze through. He tossed his rucksack into the hole, then Lizzy removed hers and did the same. The dead traversed half the distance before Lizzy could climb through. They brushed Brandon's pants leg as he followed her in.

  Brandon tried to close the door, pinning the reaching arms of their undead pursuers, but found the latch was broken. At the top of the door was a slide latch. He used it to secure the door.

  "I don't think that will hold them for long," Lizzy said.

  Brandon was already dragging a short bookcase over for leverage. "We don't need it to," he assured her. "We're not staying."

  Realizing that Brandon seemed to have a plan, she decided to let him continue to lead and just go with the flow. Together they rounded up furniture from around the room and piled it against the door. Once they were finished, they both donned their rucksacks again.

  Brandon dug the flashlight from his pocket. He led them down a dark hallway, not stopping at any of the classrooms along the way. At the end of the hall was the back door. It was closed and secured, but Lizzy released the top latch.

  Popping the button lock with a twist of the knob, Brandon opened the door and led them into the back playground. But he didn't stop to take it in. He marched them past the picnic benches, twisting slide, a wooden play set shaped like a pirate ship, and the pair of see-saws, straight to the five-foot chain-link fence that separated the playground from the trees. He took off his rucksack again and gingerly dropped it over. Then he scaled the fence and leaped down to the other side.

  Before Brandon finished the climb to the other side, Lizzy already had her rucksack off. She handed it to Brandon, then followed him over. Once both of them were safely on the other side, they shouldered their packs.

  "Now what?"

  Brandon grabbed Lizzy by the arm and backed them up into the cover of the trees. They knelt and watched. Brandon stared through the thin slivers of light between the fence's wooden boards at the left of the daycare. Through them, he found the pair of dumpsters he'd spotted earlier.

  They waited.

  They waited for some time.

  Then Brandon saw movement. The form of the person moving beside the dumpsters was impossible to make out through the slats. But it was definitely a person, and a live one, probably watching the front of the daycare.

  Brandon pointed towards the dumpsters. He told his sister to be patient. Eventually, she saw it, too.

  "What should we do?" Lizzy asked in a whisper, obviously flustered.

  Brandon looked behind them into the woods. The woods weren't more than a few hundred feet deep. But it would give them the cover they needed.

  "We go. Away from here."

  Together they walked at a crouch deeper into the trees.

  * * * * *

  Turtleman watched the front of the daycare
center, but he didn't dare approach. The trio of corpses pounding on the door were more than enough to keep him back.

  He tried to hide as best he could between the dumpsters, ducking behind a small pile of trash bags, but he didn't know how good a job he was doing. For all he knew, two pairs of eyes were looking straight at him between the wooden boards nailed to the windows.

  When the boy and girl first went in the daycare and shut the door, two of the zombies had their arms pinned and were mostly immobile. Now, however, all of them were free and hammering on the wood, which meant the door had come open at least a little bit.

  Another of the boards fell away from the door. It wouldn't be long before they could climb inside.

  Turtleman wasn't sure what to do next. Should he attempt to kill the zombies, possibly endearing himself to the girl? Should he hang back and wait for the dead the gain access, then wait and see if the kids survive and emerge from the daycare? What if they didn't make it out alive? The voice would never let him live it down.

  Turtleman decided to act.

  Chancing being seen, assuring himself he already had, he moved quietly across the street and behind a long line of hedges bordering the daycare's property. He stayed low and crept to the side of the daycare, beyond the view of the dead in front.

  He pushed between the hedges and emerged outside a tall, wooden fence. Planting himself against the outside wall of the building, he looked into a window, but could only make out a dark classroom, its door closed to the rest of the daycare. He apparently couldn't view the front room of the daycare from this side of the building.

  The wooden fence had a gate leading to what was likely a playground. He'd noticed a slide before. He tried the gate's latch, a handle with a button he depressed with his thumb, and found it locked.

  Discouraged, he peered through the slits between the fence boards and noticed a shorter chain-link fence at the back of the playground that would be easier to climb than the wood fence towering over him.

  Walking through the hedges again and then along the tall fence, Turtleman wound his way to the back fence. From across the yard, he could see the back door of the daycare was wide open, but he thought nothing of it. There were lots of open doors in the world as it was.

  He scanned the chain-link fence, but there was no gate leading into the playground. He had no choice but to climb it. It took him a minute to figure out how to get his large frame over the fence since he lacked the dexterity needed to jump it quickly.

  Where the wood fence and the chain-link met, three metal connectors moored them together, but also created a ladder of sorts with small, thin rungs. Ascending slowly, Turtleman managed to straddle the chain-link fence. He paused at the top. The caltrops of the Constantina wire sticking up above the top rail bent over and pressed uncomfortably into his crotch. The rail yielded slightly to his heavy frame.

  He imagined how silly he must look. He thought of Humpty Dumpty on a very thin wall. A big round ball balancing on a string. A Thanksgiving ham…

  "Aww, fuck it." His toe sought and found a hold on the other side and he hauled himself over. He moved to the back door, pulling his machete from his belt as he went. Turtleman leaned in and peered into the blackness, his eyes unadjusted from the sunlight.

  At the other end of a long hall, he saw a thin sliver of light and shadows dancing within it. It was the front door with those creatures trying to get in. The shaft of light was growing wider every moment.

  "Hello?" Turtleman called. "Anyone in there?" There was no response.

  He stepped onto the threshold. It let off a metallic click.

  "Those things are gonna be in here any minute now. If someone's in here, you better leave." He paused and listened. "Back door's open," he added.

  Still nothing.

  He knew he needed to move fast. His eyes were still not adjusted when he scrambled into the door. He could make out a series of doors on either side of the hall, some open, some not. He went to each in turn and threw them open, realizing that if one had zombies on the other side, he was seriously fucked.

  Some of the rooms were classrooms. Two were bathrooms. Two more were closets and another was an office. All were empty.

  Each of the classrooms had a closet of its own and he checked each as best he could with the light of the boarded-up windows. In the bathrooms, he checked the stalls, slamming them open. In the office, he checked the small closet there and under the desk. In the closets, anything could have been hiding in the darkness. He moved his machete around inside, high and low, allowing it to clang off whatever was there. None of it screamed.

  By the time he was finished, the daycare's front door was open eighteen inches and the first of the zombies was working to squeeze through. Frustrated, Turtleman walked back to the back door and closed it behind him as he left.

  He considered the playground equipment but knew two people the size of those he'd seen couldn't hide in any of it easily. Finally, he sat in a swing and sulked. The chain groaned under his weight.

  People are really good at giving you the slip, fat ass.

  Turtleman didn't argue. He didn't respond at all.

  He couldn't have agreed more.

  Soon the dead pounded on the back door, first one set of fists, and then several.

  But Turtleman didn't move for a long time.

  * * * * *

  Turtleman wouldn't have felt right if he didn't, at least, try to look for them. Plus the constant berating by the voice prompted him to. So the next day he visited adjacent outlet malls and crept past store windows, looking in each. He tromped through the small patch of woods behind the daycare, covering it entirely in just an hour.

  He didn't really hold much hope in finding them. They obviously evaded him on purpose, and he doubted he'd find someone who didn't want to be found. The couple next to the lake proved that much to him.

  His search lasted until late evening, then he gave up entirely. That night he returned to the carnival grounds and slept in the lower-most Ferris wheel seat. For two days after that, he stayed near the carnival grounds and outlet malls to explore, but unconsciously he stayed on the off chance he might see the young couple again. Consciously, he forgot about them all together. Even the voice didn't tease him with reminders.

  Finally, he decided it was time to head back home. What he was currently calling home, at least: the small house bordering the forest on the outskirts of town. As he headed west, moving between the outlet malls, a corpse, slow-moving yet determined, picked up his scent and trailed him.

  Turtleman wasn't worried. He plodded along and allowed the zombie to keep pace, even slowing down around corners or buildings so it wouldn't lose sight of him entirely and become disoriented. Might as well make a game of it. Turtleman knew he could lose the zombie whenever he liked, or better yet, kill it.

  But then something else picked up his scent. A few somethings. And they definitely had him worried. At one point he looked back to make sure the corpse was still following him, and he saw, behind the zombie at the top of the road, three dogs looking down towards him. One of them might have been a collie. From that distance and with its hair so tangled and matted it was hard to tell. The other two were short-haired and multi-colored. Probably mutts. All of them were thin and starving. And likely desperate for food.

  Turtleman picked up the pace. Fuck the zombie. He turned some corners sharply, then watched behind him.

  No dogs. Maybe he'd lost them.

  But then one of the dogs came jogging around the corner. The other two appeared at the end of an alley at Turtleman's left. They appeared to be hunting him as a pack. Using strategy. Trying to corral him into a dead end, or perhaps trying to intimidate him. Fear was their greatest weapon. One of them might try to flush him out into the waiting jaws of the others. Turtleman had seen his share of nature shows.

  They could eat for days off of your fat ass, the voice said with a giggle.

  Turtleman pulled his machete and held it out so they'd see he was
n't completely defenseless. They were anything but discouraged. Each of them took several steps towards him.

  Way to show 'em who's boss.

  He backed away and continued in the same direction at a fast pace. The dogs trailed him. He'd see them between buildings as he moved along. As he reached the edge of the town's commercial hub, Turtleman saw the tree line at the end of an alley behind a grouping of connected restaurants. He made for it.

  When he reached the end of the alley, two of the dogs showed themselves at either end of the adjoining road. The third was halfway down the alley he'd just come down.

  Turtleman dove into the shade of the trees, chopping at limbs and vines in front of him. Moments later, he could hear the dogs crashing in after him, treading heavily and easily through the brush. Turtleman found himself walking through difficult terrain: rocky, briar-ridden, and uphill. The woods were starting to look like a bad idea.

  I've always thought of you as more of the city type. Also the faggot type, the fat-ass type, the pussy type—

  "Shut up."

  All around, Turtleman could hear the dogs trotting through leaves and underbrush, sometimes at a run, other times at a casual walk. The whole forest seemed alive with the noise. As he looked around him, sometimes he'd catch glimpses of them, behind him, on either side of him, between the trees and bushes. Easily keeping pace with him. Sometimes outpacing him. Taunting him. He'd catch movement as he swept his gaze around, but when he'd lock his eyes on the spot where the movement had been, they'd be gone.

  He swung his machete at branches and vines until he could barely lift his arm, but still, he chopped, making a rough path, though with no idea as to a direction. He could hear them snarl as they closed in.

  Now the voice was silent. Turtleman would have welcomed it. A little teasing banter to help block out the sounds of the hungry beasts. Maybe the voice would have even offered some useful advice. Even sarcastic advice would have been better than none at all.