Joanne went first, climbing upon the sill before hanging down with her arms and finally dropping to the ground. She let out a whimper, but managed not to crumple to the cement. Eric went next, Riley helping to lower him while Joanne reached up. Riley then handed down Eric’s rifle to him.
“Your turn,” Eric said, looking up at Riley.
She climbed onto the windowsill and handed her rifle to Eric. He moved aside and made room for Joanne to help Riley down.
“Okay, kiddo,” she said, her arms outstretched. “Climb out.”
Riley was turning herself around, balancing on her knees and looking back for the others, when someone grabbed her wrists and yanked her back inside. Her legs banged onto the unforgiving tile floor. She opened her eyes. Looking up, she saw the Hag.
“Going somewhere?” the Hag asked.
Riley heard Joanne screaming from outside as she struggled to rise to her feet. The Hag was strong, stronger than she appeared, and tossed Riley hard to the floor. “You can’t leave,” the woman howled, spittle flying from her mouth. The Hag grabbed Riley by the hair and began dragging her across the floor and back into the foyer. Riley’s scalp burned as her follicles were stretched to their limits. “You’re going to save us. Save our race, little girl, and put a stop to the evil that has been brought upon our world.”
“I’m not special,” Riley shouted.
The witch stopped, spun Riley around to face her. “You are the key to the human race’s survival.”
Riley attempted to rise but the Hag slapped her in the face, sending her dazed to the floor. Another Sister appeared from the stairs carrying rope.
“Tie her up,” the Hag demanded. “We’ll find a man quickly and get her impregnated as soon as possible.”
“Yes, my Lady,” the Sister said.
Riley began to struggle, kicking her legs and flailing her arms, but the eyeless Sister was adept at control. Another Sister was coming down the stairs. Riley wondered where they had been this whole time and guessed they hid when they heard the gunshots. It was the one thing they could not defend well against. She began screaming for Joanne, not sure what else to do.
A loud thudding began to erupt from the apartment building’s front doors. The Sisters all froze, turning in unison toward the doors. Someone or thing was pounding on them, furiously.
“Quickly, put the steel bar in place,” the Hag commanded. Riley saw the bar off to the side. It needed to be slid between two slots on the doors, a reinforcement procedure, she guessed.
Two Sisters were now holding Riley down as a third went for the security bar. Riley knew what was on the other side. The zombies had come into the secured area through the blown hole in the wall. They must have heard or smelled the human flesh sacks inside.
The Sister reached the steel bar, lifting it from its resting place next to the doors. She stood in front of the doors, seeming to struggle with the item. It appeared heavy, but she managed to lift it. Just before getting it into place, the doors burst open. The Sister holding the bar was whacked in the head by the rushing door, sending her and the bar to the floor. Blood gushed from a large gash in her head and Riley knew she would serve as a tasty appetizer to the hordes of undead pouring through the entrance.
The first five that entered dove onto the downed Sister and began tearing her apart. They ripped flesh from her face as if she were made of moist clay. Riley watched as skin and muscle left the woman’s face. Her arms were covered with zombie mouths and two of the undead began digging at her stomach, removing her innards as if preparing to stuff the woman for a feast.
More of the undead came into the room as if they were being discarded from a dump truck. Riley felt the Sisters’ panic, their grips loosening.
Taking advantage of the situation, Riley grunted in anger, punching one of the Sisters in the throat. The woman clutched at her neck, coughing as Riley rolled away from her. The Hag began to yell.
“Nooooo.” The Hag ran toward the stairs trying to escape, but wasn’t fast enough as a group of zombies tackled her. Riley watched as the woman disappeared into the throng.
Riley was on her feet seconds later. Another of the Sisters was trying to fight off the zombies, but had already taken losses of flesh. The zombies began ripping the skin from her arms and face. One of the undead clamped its teeth around the woman’s voluptuous lips, stretching them like rubber bands as it ripped them away. The woman’s arms were held by undead hands, tearing muscle and skin from them. The Sister’s muffled screams became wet and gargled, like the sound of someone drowning, as the blood from where her lips used to be poured into her mouth and down her chest.
Riley was already backing into the room with the open window. Most of the zombies were too slow and she could have easily made it out the window in time, but there was a runner amongst them. She turned and bolted toward the window. The zombie was on her quickly, grabbing at her hair. Her head was tugged backward for a second before the sensation was gone, the zombie having lost its grip.
Halfway across the room, the zombie’s fingers clawed at her neck. She hurried faster, giving it all she had. “I’m coming, Joanne,” she yelled as the window’s opening grew wider.
As she ran, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. The window grew larger as she got closer. But it seemed as if she couldn’t run fast enough. Her ankle should have hindered her, but she felt no pain—adrenaline doing its job. Barely ahead of the zombie’s grasp, Riley felt the brush of its cold fingers on her neck. She wasn’t worried about being bitten any longer, but maybe she should be. Maybe the zombie that had bitten her was an anomaly—a rare case of not being able to spread its disease.
With the smell of rot falling over her like an invisible wave, Riley had reached the open window. She bent forward, lowering her head, and dove through.
Chapter Fourteen
A Tattoo
Indecision had been non-existent in Riley’s mind. The horror of what chased her was far more terrifying than launching herself through an open window. Her mind shouted at her to close her eyes, but she kept them open, knowing it would serve her best. Her heart was pounding with sledgehammer-like thuds against her breast bone; the outcome of her landing looming like something in an impenetrable fog. Would Joanne be waiting below, ready to catch her? Or had she and Eric tried finding another way inside to help her? Her answer came swiftly, relief flooding through her as she saw Joanne’s grimy, but beautiful face staring up at her.
Riley collided into the woman, Joanne half catching and half breaking her fall, as the two bodies became one and tumbled to the solid concrete.
The impact with the ground was unforgiving in its receptiveness of their soft flesh. Riley’s forearm connected with the ground, but ultimately no bones were broken.
Joanne wrapped her arms around Riley, letting out a half-hearted laugh. “Thought we lost you again.”
“Watch out!” Eric yelled.
Riley, still lying on top of Joanne, craned her neck around and looked up toward the window. The zombie that had been chasing her came tumbling out of the building, its legs tripped up on the windowsill, sending the undead thing face first onto the ground. Eric blasted it twice in what was left of its half-smashed head before it got a chance to rise.
Riley got to her feet, helping Joanne up.
The woman winced, placing her hands to her lower back. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Riley asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing I haven’t felt before.” She smiled. “Now let’s get the hell out of here before more of those things come out of that window.”
Together, they hurried down the alley, turning onto a street. They moved cautiously, peering around the corners of buildings, making sure the way was clear.
Zombies roamed about here and there, but the group had an easy time killing them. It seemed that most of the undead were busy rampaging inside the compound area. Compared to what Riley had been through, and imagining what Joanne and Eric had endured, the escape was relatively easy.
Riley’s killer instinct was in full swing as she traveled with Joanne and Eric. Ready to kill who or whatever got in her way. But at the same time, she felt like grinning as a warm sensation filled her gut. It was the sense of being among loved ones—people that truly knew the meaning of family. How could she feel so joyous during such a perilous time? Had she lost her mind? Gone crazy? No. It was simply the natural feeling that came with being amongst people she loved. A breeze, refreshing and uplifting, something she hadn’t felt for some time, added to her enjoyment of the escape. And as demented as one might think her to be, she cherished holding a gun and killing undead with the people she cared so deeply about. She wondered if her thoughts would be considered deranged if she’d told them to Joanne or Eric. But it didn’t matter because she was delighted to feel the way she did.
Thinking about her days with the Sisters, she realized she could have had it worse—much worse: eyeless and pregnant with some goon’s child. But that didn’t happen. And she was kept clean and comfortable. She began to feel ashamed at thinking herself fortunate, knowing—by the way they appeared—that Joanne and Eric had had it much worse than her.
They continued on in silence as they worked their way through the city and all its withering scenery. Riley found it hard not to think about her ankle and the bite she’d received. The adrenaline had worn off and the pain had come back fierce, stinging. She looked at Joanne every time she felt the need to cry out for a chance to rest, for the woman wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down from the deep knife wound in her thigh.
Riley watched the two of them, wondering what hells they’d been subjected to. Joanne had a long scar running down her cheek from when the fat man cut her back at the house. She noticed small circular marks, like cigarette burns, along the woman’s arms, and an assortment of plum-colored patches of skin where bruises were healing.
Eric had fresh bruising too, along with scars that looked like they’d come from a whip or bladed weapon. In time she knew all of them would share their stories, allowing themselves to heal. At least she hoped so.
When it came time for Riley to share her tale, she thought about lying. Making her time with the Sisters seem worse than it was. But that wouldn’t be right and when it came down to it she would have to tell the truth. Joanne and Eric were her family. She loved them and they loved her. Lying would be an insult. Riley realized she shouldn’t feel awkward. Joanne and Eric would hold no contempt for her. And, deep down, Riley knew they’d be happy she hadn’t had to endure the same horrors as they did. It was why they were so important to her and why she would do anything for them.
Riley and the others eventually made it out of the city and began the trek along the rural roads leading home.
When George was alive, he’d made sure specific protocols were put into effect. And that everyone knew what to do in certain situations, like an assault on the house, which besides a zombie attack, was the event George had feared the most. Coming back home could prove to be a dangerous prospect. Gang members knew were they lived. They would have to stay in the panic bunker.
The panic bunker was a small fifteen by twelve-foot space dug out of earth. Wood planks were used to line the walls and floor, helping to support the structure. An assortment of foods, medical supplies and a small kerosene heater were kept in the bunker. The place reminded Riley of the pit under her cabin back at Roscoe, bringing back both joyous and heart-wrenching memories.
The bunker was cramped, small for three people, and Riley wondered how it would’ve been if another person was with them. When she thought about whom the other person would’ve been she realized it would have been just fine, welcomed in fact.
The air was damp and the walls felt cool to the touch, helping to keep the cramped quarters’ temperature comfortable.
No one left the shelter, keeping themselves occupied by playing checkers, Monopoly—stashed there by Eric some time ago—and card games using one of three sets of playing cards. George had thought of everything, knowing if the shelter was to be used that it needed to be more than just a place to hide.
They stayed there for a week, Riley acting as the group’s scout, sneaking through the woods to look in on the cabin for signs of hostiles.
When it seemed safe, the bunker’s occupants desperately wanting out of the underground hovel, they moved back into the house. Most likely the majority of the gang was either dead or dispersed amongst the city and running for their survival, not thinking about some log cabin deep in the countryside. And in truth, only a few knew the location of the house.
The remains of George’s body, along with the other rotted corpses, were removed from the premises. The task was grueling, bringing cries of emotional pain from Joanne and Riley upon placing George’s remains in a large box. Eric wasn’t permitted to see his father’s corpse; Joanne feeling it would serve no good to do so, wanting her son to remember his father whole and beautiful. He was buried in the backyard, near the forest’s edge, and marked with a heavy piece of stone. It was a sad and sobering day, but they all got through it.
It took a few days—the gang members having smashed picture frames, furniture and a number of items—but the house was eventually cleaned. Spilled cereal that had shriveled into hard inedible bits were swept up and tossed out. Blood stains, like stationary ghosts, were scrubbed away, leaving bare spots like scars on flesh.
Not only had the gang trashed the house, but they had taken a large amount of food supplies. One of the most devastating losses was the livestock—either dead from starvation, slaughtered, or simply nowhere to be found. Hunting and foraging had to suffice until some other measure could be had.
The only plus, besides being alive, were the weapons and ammo. Having been hidden well around the house, the gang hadn’t found many of the guns or explosives. Riley and the Milners would at least be well armed.
Within a month, life was finally returning to normal. Patrols were kept around the clock, with each family member performing the task on a twenty-four-hour clock for the first month. It was a difficult but necessary precaution.
At this time, Joanne thought it best to discuss their time in the city. They’d all been through a terrible ordeal and healing would come through talking; getting out the bad and learning to move past their woes.
Joanne had been held in the whorehouse. Most females were older, but there were younger ones too—the Hag not wanting them for one reason or another.
Joanne had been used sexually by numerous men and beaten regularly. She kept that part of her nightmare from Eric, only telling Riley what had happened. After speaking about it, she said she never wanted it to be brought up again. She’d broken down into tears many times throughout the first couple of weeks back at the house and during the telling of her story, but never in front of her son.
Joanne explained how she escaped. How she fooled one of the gang members into thinking she fancied him, making him believe that she wanted to be one of them. She had to do things—horrible things, like beat on the other women and perform the most heinous sexual acts to reinforce her façade, but it had worked. The man had brought her to his bunk where she got a hold of a weapon and forced him to tell her where they were keeping her son and daughter. After which she blew his head off. From there she killed a number of men, working her way to the whorehouse where she freed the women, handing out arms to as many as she could.
All hell had broken out. People were everywhere, fleeing. Gunshots rang out and screams of anger and pain followed. Joanne was a killing machine with one purpose: to get her kids and escape from the city. Eric was being held nearby in the recruits’ quarters. Joanne shot the two guards stationed there, killing them.
After freeing Eric, they worked their way to the explosives room, where Eric had been on numerous occasions as part of his work detail. They grabbed a couple bundles of dynamite and blew a section of the Sisters’ wall open before heading to Riley.
Joanne needed more than fleeing prisoners to help with her esc
ape plan and hungry zombies would serve her purpose well, keeping the gang members occupied. From there, as they say, it was all history.
Eric took the longest to talk. He’d become stone-like in sharing his feelings, but eventually he’d come around. He was put in with new recruits, but was the youngest by ten years except for one other boy his age, but he’d only come in a day before their escape.
Eric had been bullied, beaten and picked on repeatedly. Some of the men had tried having their way with him, but he’d been able to fight them off and survive. Like Joanne, he’d suffered. Cigarette burns covered his flesh, cuts from knives marked his skin and his back had deep scars from lashings that had been given. He’d been taught how to shoot and kill with a blade. He’d been decent with a gun beforehand, George having worked with him on his skills, but Eric had improved since. Torture for missing a target was a great tool for getting the boy to try harder, as the gang had put it.
Riley shared her story last, leaving out the part about getting bitten by the zombie. She spoke about everything else, realizing if things had progressed further than they did, that she would be eyeless and with child from some pig. She shivered as she told her tale, breaking down into tears unexpectedly.
“I didn’t want to tell you guys,” she said. “I had it kind of easy compared to you two.” She wiped tears from her face with her sleeve.
“No, no, sweetie,” Joanne told her, rubbing her back. “We all had horrible experiences, and who’s to judge what was worse and what was better. The important thing is that we’re all here, alive and well.”
As another week went by, Riley began having dreams about being bitten, but in her dreams she grew sick and became a member of the undead. The image of being bitten weighed heavily on her mind. She needed to share it will someone and decided to tell Joanne what had happened. Would she believe her? She worried about that, but the need to get out what had happened was greater than her ability to keep it in.
Amongst the Dead Page 13
