Respect for the Dead (Surviving the Dead Book 1)

by Shawn McLain

  “I guess we are alone.” Beth said staring at the phone in her hand.

  Martin looked at his, “Damn it!” He shouted as he threw the phone as hard as he could. It flew over the edge toward the hospital. “Why! Why?” He mumbled as he sunk to his knees crying. “Why couldn’t we get more out? What more could we have done?”

  “We did everything we could.” Trevor said trying to comfort his boss.

  “Hey, Martin, right? We came here because of you. You convinced the Colonial to help out. You tried man.” Hector said sympathetically.

  “Yeah and that worked out well.” Max grumbled from behind Beth.

  She spared him a second for a dirty look. “You saved us.” She said to the Mayor gesturing to Bill, Hector, and Max.

  Martin slumped against the side of the truck and put his head in his hands. Everyone was quiet for a while.

  “Let’s get in the truck and try to get some sleep.” Devin suggested several minutes later.

  “Should we have someone stand guard?” Hector asked.

  “I don’t want to leave the truck open.” Trevor quickly spoke up. “The truck is armored and it has places we can shoot from, besides they don’t know we are here.”

  Hector shrugged but did not argue. It was cramped arrangements but eventually they all found a place as comfortable as they could.

  Sanctuary?

  Steve woke with a start. Looking down at his watch in the candle light he noted head been able to sleep for three hours. Prior to that he recalled that only two other people had joined their ranks. He hoped others had come while he slept. Looking around, he mentally counted the people. It didn’t seem there had been any additions. He fought the disappointment.

  Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and the stubble on his chin he began to wondered why he had woken up. Listening for anything to explain it, the only sound was the gentle hiss of whispered conversation and the rhythmic breathing of someone asleep nearby. Steve looked over the side of the pew he was lying on. Wes was on the floor, snoring softly. Steve watched the young man sleep and smiled. He had known Wes for years. Ever since Wes and Beth had met in first grade, they had been fast friends. Steve chuckled seeing, Wes still had Beth’s stuffed bunny with him. It was lying next to him, his arm over it. Then Steve saw Wes’ hand was on a gun. He frowned at this, Beth should have her bunny and Wes should never have had to do the things he had done that day.

  Candle light danced across the ceiling, and the distant fires dimly illuminated the tall windows of the church. Steve rose to a sitting position still trying to figure out what had woken him. Perplexed and somewhat disturbed, he got up, careful not to wake Wes, and stretched.

  Steve looked to the front of the church and saw the priest kneeling over the man who was burned. A woman was next the priest clutching her hands tight up to her mouth. Steve could tell she was sobbing. Next to her was a man patting her on the shoulder. Steve looked away. It felt like he was intruding on them.

  Suddenly his attention was again brought back to them as the woman wailed in despair. Steve leaned over the pew slowly retrieving his rifle. When Steve stood back up he saw the priest covering the burn victim with a blanket. The woman was being held and consoled by the man who had been patting her shoulder.

  Steve checked his rifle, chambered a round. He got up quietly and began to head up the aisle. The priest saw him coming and stood up to intercept him. Steve’s attention was on the clergyman.

  “Wait my son, wait just a moment.”

  Behind the Father the woman fell backward in fright, arm and legs flailing. The priest spun on the spot. All sound and movement stopped for Steve. The blanket slid slowly from the burned man’s face. Blackened skin cracked and peeled as the face contorted, the lips peeled back over bloody teeth.

  The zombie turned to the man who had been a shoulder to cry on for the woman. His shoulder now turned crimson as teeth ripped into it. The man howled in pain. The burnt man chewed happily until the left side of his head exploded into red and grey across the alter.

  The gun shot finally broke Steve from his trance. Turning to look, he already knew what he would see. It still pulled at his heart. It was Wes. Steve shut his eyes, poor Wes had t do it again.

  Wes stood still his gun still aimed at the zombie. Steve saw Wes adjust to the bitten man. “Wait, wait!” Steve called to Wes. Adjusting his own rifle to his shoulder, Steve headed up the wounded man. “GET BACK!” Steve ordered taking aim. The man was holding one hand up in surrender the other clutched at the free flowing wound on his neck and shoulder.

  “NO WAIT! NO I’M NOT DEAD!” The man was screaming at Steve, the wound on his neck was spewing blood. His shirt was now almost completely red. The woman moved to block Steve’s shot.

  “No no….” the man paled and lost consciousness.

  “GET BACK!” Steve yelled again, shooing the woman away with his rifle. She stood her ground, anger and hatred etched in her features. Steve could see the man starting to stir behind her. The Priest moved quickly to pull the woman away. He grabbed her around the waist pulling her out of Steve’s line of fire. She fought hard to keep her place.

  She was screaming for “Dave” to get up and be ok. She demanded he show them he was ok. In the end Dave did get up, but he was far from fine. Steve aimed. Blood splattered over the woman adding more gore to the altar. Silence filled the church for several seconds. The woman slid from the Priests arms to the floor sobbing. The Priest followed holding her by the shoulders whispering reassurances in her ear. Steve realized he hadn’t fired. He looked over to see Wes lower his weapon and sink into the Pew.

  The woman pried herself from the priest and slowly got to her feet. She ran her hands over her face and looked down at them. They too were red with blood, like the floor and the two corpses. Suddenly she was screaming. She turned and pointed from Wes to Steve and back again. “Murders, MURDERS!!”

  “We just saved your…” Steve felt a tug on his shirt. Wes was there pulling him back toward the rear of the church. The woman’s venom followed them as they went. Several other people in the church stared at them Steve as they walked back to their pew.

  “You did what you had to.” Mrs. Johnson said as they passed. She was comforting the children, a couple of whom drew back in fear as Wes walked by. The woman at the front of the church was still wailing as Steve slumped down into a pew.

  “Are we heroes or cold blooded killers?” Wes asked with a mirthless laugh. He curled up under his jacket but Steve knew that he did not go back to sleep. They watched the doors until the stain glass began to lighten as the sun rose. Only one more person came to the church that day. Steve counted fourteen people including himself and Wes.

  “Well, like Gandalf says, lucky 14.” Wes tried to joke. Steve looked confused; Wes just shook his head and did not try to explain.

  New Day

  Beth woke as the sun hit her eyes. For a second she was blinded, shading her eyes, she tried to make sense of her surroundings. “Damn it.” She mumbled, “It wasn’t a nightmare.”

  “No, no it wasn’t” Martin grimaced from beside her. He stretched and rubbed his back. Soon the back of the truck was full of groans, pops, stretching and restless people trying to wake and move.

  Devin stirred in the driver’s seat. He stretched, scratched the back of his head opened his eyes and jumped back in his seat. “Holy mother of pearl!” He shouted.

  Trevor woke with start, pressing himself as far back as possible in the passenger seat, “Holy SHIT!” He cried!

  Everyone was now fully awake and looking out the front of the truck. Matt’s hand froze on the handle to the back door. Zombies were everywhere. The once deserted parking lot was now full of the undead. The mass hadn’t reached the truck yet but they moved toward it so there could be no mistake it was their goal.

  “Aw man! I really gotta pee.” Matt whined.

  “They must have wandered up the ramp all night.” Beth postulated, ignoring Matt.

  “Why do you think
that?” Matt asked. The others turned with quizzical looks.

  Moving up between the front seats, and pointing at the approaching zombies Beth began to explain. “Well they don’t move that fast, and the exit ramp is really steep. I doubt they’d take the harder route and…”

  “Let’s just get out of here! We can theorize about how and why they are here later.” Trevor cried as he turned to glare at Beth. “WHOA! Let’s GO NOW go go go go go NOW!” He screamed while throwing himself away from the window. A grey torn hand slammed into it.

  Devin turned the key. The truck roared to life. The advanced ghouls became more excited by the sound. The moans urged the approaching shamblers to move faster toward the living. Devin aimed their mobile fortress and plowed into the oncoming horde. The undead slammed into the hood and bounced off the sides.

  Cries of fear and pain mixed with the whine of the engine and the groans and thuds of the dead. “There, There!” Martin pointed to an area where the horde was thinner. The zombies clawed at the sides of the truck as it passed. Devin urged the vehicle forward as he made the turn down the spiral ramp and the exit. He glanced at the side view mirror, dead faces blurred above the words, “objects in mirror are closer than they appear”.

  Beth gripped the dash and looked out the passenger window past a terrified Trevor to the other side view mirror. A zombie’s hand had torn free from its owner becoming a grotesque addition to Beth’s view under the mirror. It was only temporary as the mirror was torn off as it scrapped against the wall.

  Devin took the ramp as fast as he dared. Those in the back were slammed to one side with the force of the turn. The tired squealed and metal scrapped. Round and Round down the circular ramp. Beth had to grab Trevor’s seat to keep from being thrown across the cab. Beth closed her eyes to keep from getting dizzy, instantly regretted it and decided to stare at the air conditioner controls.

  The centrifugal force eased up when Devin let out a grunt straightening the wheel at the end of the ramp. The truck bottomed out, the crunch of metal met the thumps of bodies hitting the floor in the back. Beth instinctively pulled her knees toward her chest and covered her face with her arms as Devin flew through the gate at the exit and out into the street.

  Bright morning sun filled the cab when they broke free of the garage. Devin pulled hard on the wheel turning the lumbering vehicle toward the hospital. They weaved through empty ambulances, gurneys and walking corpses. Swerving around the back of a crashed van, Devin swore while trying to alter course. The attempt was too late and they clipped the front of a wheelchair bound zombie. Beth turned to the small windows in the back to watch the chair spin, throwing its occupant out into the street. It clawed at the road trying to follow them.

  Beth was so intent on watching the determination of the crippled ghoul that she had no time to brace herself as little red Miata burst out of an alley to their left, right into the path of the truck.

  Good Morning

  Wes was back outside Beth’s house, it was just starting to get dark. He looked back at the battered car he had taken here. He wasn’t positive she would be here, but he had to start looking somewhere. Cautiously he pushed open the door and silently slipped into the shadowy house. It looked like he always remembered it looking, nothing seemed out of place. Closing the door with a soft click he proceeded deeper into the familiar surroundings.

  Easing his way down the hall he entered the living room. He stopped abruptly as he spied a figure standing by the sliding glass door to the back yard. Familiar loose curls fell onto the bare shoulders of Beth. She was wearing a light yellow summer dress with little flowers on it. “Beth, ok thank god I was so worried...” Wes sighed as he reached for her.

  She slowly turned toward him. He gasped and drew back, half her face was missing, her right eye was gone and so was most of her cheek and flesh of her lower jaw. Her white teeth clicked at him through the angry red flesh. She reached for him with an arm that gleamed with congealed blood the white bones of the forearm plainly visible.

  “NO! NO! NO! He screamed backing away. She advanced toward him. Wes tripped over a body on the floor. Beth’s father glared up at him, a seeping red hole stared at Wes between the man’s eyes. Beth’s nails scrapped Wes’ arm. He raised his gun, “No Beth Please!” He pleaded. Her mouth opened wide, the lower jaw barely attached.

  “BAM! BAM! BAM!” Wes sat bolt upright on the pew. He was sweating; tears began to cascade down his cheeks.

  Steve whispered, “You’re alright...and that wasn’t her.”

  Wes tried to cover his face, “not who?” He questioned more scared than he wanted to let on.

  Steve’s hand gripped Wes’s shoulder, “Beth.” Steve stated simply. “I had that dream too, where she is…” Steve stopped.

  Wes took a deep breath. “No she is ok, I can feel it. I know it.” Wes rolled back over repeating to himself. “She’s ok, she’s ok….”

  BAM! BAM! Wes sat back up and looked at Steve, “I thought I dreamt that.”

  “Nah, they are adding some wood over a lower window and some other stuff to the barricade.” Steve stretched. “Remember that lady that called us murders?”

  Wes nodded grumpily.

  “Well she got pissed, didn’t want to stay here, so she tried to leave. Well she met some zombies and changed her mind. Problem is she led them back here.”

  “Did she make it?” Wes questioned but felt he didn’t care. Then felt terrible that he didn’t.

  “No, they got her. But she at least let us know where our defenses were weak.”

  “Well that is good I guess.” Wes tried to make her death mean something to himself couldn’t and shrugged it off. Daylight filled the room letting them see the others they shared the church with clearly. “You’d think with the end of the world there would have been more people here.” Wes yawned.

  Steve turned to him, shocked.

  “What? I’m just saying.”

  Shaking his head Steve turned from his friend. A familiar smell wafted to his nose, “Coffee….mmmm.” Steve moaned.

  As if on cue, the older woman from the night before came bustling into the church pushing a large cart. On the cart were two large coffee decanters and a stack of cups. Next to the coffee was, “Sweet! Danish.” Wes pushed past Steve.

  Steve also started forward toward the already crowded cart, only to pause. He saw the movement at the front of the church and headed away from what he now knew was a diversion.

  “Can I be of some help, as it really is…um my mess?” Steve asked the Priest. As soon as the question had been made Steve realized how callous it sounded. Looking down Steve watched as the other man swirled the mop over the blood stained marble in front of the altar.

  The mop entered the deep red water and slopped back to the floor. “This was not your mess…I don’t know who is to blame.” The words hung in the air between the two men.

  “Steve McDaniel.” Steve held out his hand.

  Taking it, “Michael Lewis, and if it helps…He was already gone, you just destroyed an empty shell.”

  Father Michael returned to his mopping. Steve watched for a moment then asked the question without meaning to, “Are they evil?”

  The mop stopped but Michael did not look up, “I don’t know. I don’t know if this is the rapture or Judgment day and we were left behind or something else entirely. I just don’t know.” The silence that followed was only cut by the sloshing of water and the swirling of the mop. Steve wandered off wondering if the Father had been asked this several times or if it was what he had been thinking since it all began.

  “Black with one sugar right?" What were you and the Priest talking about?” Wes asked passing Steve a cup of coffee.

  “Nothing really.” Steve looked at Wes and saw the same face he had known for years, but noticed the look behind the eyes. He wondered if he ever saw Beth again would she have the same look in her eyes. The look of someone who has seen and done things that they never should have. He wondered if Wes saw the same
thing when he looked at Steve.

  “Dude! What?”

  Steve realized he had been staring, “nothing, so did you meet anyone we know?’

  “No, just your old teacher and her husband. A couple of the kids we ran into yesterday were pretty cool to me. The said you were awesome.” Steve choked a little on his coffee and laughed. Wes continued, “A couple from Westmont, a family from Altoona that was visiting friends and a few people who just seemed too freaked to talk. Mrs. Jones, the lady with the cart, was cool. She called us heroes for what we did last night.” Wes suddenly lost interest in the cherry Danish he was eating.

  Steve glanced up at the altar where Father Michael was pushing the mop and bucket away. Several people were looking in Steve and Wes’ direction. “Come on.” Steve grabbed Wes by the collar and pulled him to the door.

  “What’s up?”

  “I dunno. I just need to not be the center of attention right now.” Pushing open the heavy front door Steve shielded his eyes to the bright morning sun. The smell of the fires and the sickening odor of death accosted his nostrils.

  “Whoa is that them?” Wes whispered.

  “You get used to it after a while. It is a good warning though as they get closer. That and the moan.” Said a balding man who was holding a rifle. He barley glanced over at them as they emerged from the church.

  Wes’ attention was drawn from the man to the dark red stain on the ground near the small space between the buses. A light wind blew his long hair across his face. Wes pushed it away and turned to talk to Steve. Steve held up a hand and Wes heard it. It was the sound of metal scraping concrete. The noise grew louder as if coming down from a height.

  “Where is the closest parking garage?” Wes asked, excited.

  “Over by the hospital.” The gunman replied pointing to a building hidden from view by other structures. The scraping stopped, the men strained to listen. All cringed at the sound of a collision.