3.2 As the World Dies Untold Tales Vol. 2

by Rhiannon Frater

  Mr. Cloy finally appeared and struggled to worm his way out of the window. The fit was tight.

  “C’mon, Mr. Cloy!” They both started shouting encouragement and waving at him as if it would somehow help.

  Mr. Cloy’s face tilted upward and they saw he had a look of pure terror on his face. That one look said it all. The zombies were about to break into the storage room. Gripping the wall, Mr. Cloy tried desperately to slide through the bars. His stomach finally squeezed through and he fell onto the roof.

  “Hurry, hurry!” Ken’s voice reflected his fear and he swallowed hard to avoid vomiting.

  Lenore had already secured the rope around a pipe sticking out of roof, and she tossed the line down to Mr. Cloy. He reached out with eager hands to grasp it. Behind him, battered hands and twisted, bloodied faces appeared in the window.

  Wrapping the makeshift rope around his wrist, Mr. Cloy said, “Pull me up!”

  Ken and Lenore heaved him up. Mr. Cloy was surprisingly heavy in spite of his skinny frame. The muscles in Ken’s arms and shoulders strained with the weight. Abruptly the rope went slack and Ken and Lenore both fell to the roof.

  Shocked, they scrambled to their feet and looked over the edge of the roof to see Mr. Cloy lying on top of the storage room. Breathing heavily, he gave them a small wave.

  “I can’t join you, kids,” Mr. Cloy said in a ragged voice as he tried to catch his breath. He pointed toward his leg, then lifted his pant cuff.

  “Oh, shit,” Lenore whispered.

  Fresh tears sprung to Ken’s eyes as huge gouges in Mr. Cloy’s flesh were revealed.

  “They got me when I was coming out the window,” Mr. Cloy sobbed. “It’s the bite that does it.”

  Ken shivered. The bloodied, feral faces in the window groaned. The dead creatures stretched grasping hands in his direction, their milky eyes glowering up at him and Lenore.

  No one spoke as the moans and howls the dead filled the air.

  8.

  At Hell’s Mouth

  “This is bullshit,” Ken declared.

  Lenore shushed him as he stomped his foot and crossed his arms in irritation.

  They stood at the edge of the building watching Mr. Cloy. Their friend and neighbor sat in silence, arms resting on his knees and his head bowed. Beneath him, the zombies clawed at the bars and edges of the window.

  The heat of the sun weighed down on Ken’s shoulders and made them itch. Perspiration slid down his spine. He frowned. He hated being sweaty and hot, but he didn’t want to leave Mr. Cloy to face his fate alone.

  “We can’t just leave him down there,” Ken whispered to Lenore.

  “We can try and make him comfortable. It’s freaking hot out here,” Lenore admitted. “Go get him stuff. I’m going to stay here with him.”

  Ken hurried downstairs and threw together items to make Mr. Cloy more comfortable. The air mattress and its pump were the first things he pulled out of his closet. He added an umbrella and a small fan that ran on batteries. Clean cotton sheets were added to the pile along with a pillow. In the kitchen, he tossed several water bottles and some cookies and chips into a tote bag. Finally, he lugged the whole thing upstairs, nearly tripping a few times, but managing to reach the top without falling down the stairs.

  Lenore sat on the edge of the building staring out over the town. Ken nearly fell to his knees by the time he reached her with his load.

  “He’s not talking,” she whispered to Ken.

  “Well, he’s, like, going to die and be one of those things,” Ken said in a low voice back to her. “How would you feel?”

  “I can hear you,” Mr. Cloy said, slowly raising his head. He looked pale and was crying. “You ain’t gotta whisper.”

  “I brought you stuff!” Ken heaved the duffel bag with the air mattress and bedding over the side of the building and dropped it down next to Mr. Cloy.

  Mr. Cloy got to his feet and Ken lowered the rest of the stuff into his friend’s waiting arms. Mr. Cloy sighed and held the bag close to his chest. “Thanks, Ken. I do appreciate this.”

  Lenore sat in silence and viewed the chaos happening in their small town. Her expression was inscrutable. Ken sat next to her and didn’t say a word.

  Mr. Cloy set up the air mattress and propped the umbrella so he could hide under its shade. He sat eating cookies as the dead moaned beneath his shelter.

  Ken tried not to watch what was going on in the town, but he couldn’t help it. Cars raced around with small packs of bloodied people chasing them. A few houses were under siege with the walking dead beating on the doors and windows. Gunshots barked in the distance and Ken heard a chainsaw start somewhere nearby.

  “You guys don’t have to stay out here with me,” Mr. Cloy said finally. “I know you guys did your best by me, but I gotta face the Maker on my own now. I’m just...I just thought the rapture would come before now.”

  “Maybe this isn’t the Tribulation,” Ken suggested.

  “I dunno. Dead coming out of their graves is somewhere in Revelations.” Mr. Cloy’s dark hair was glistening with sweat and he kept rubbing his bushy mustache.

  “Well, it don’t matter if it is or not. It’s just a bad day all around,” Lenore decided somberly.

  Somewhere nearby, a baby was crying piteously.

  “Yeah,” Mr. Cloy said.

  “Mr. Cloy-”

  “Leslie,” Mr. Cloy corrected Ken. “My name is Leslie.”

  “Really?” Ken raised an eyebrow.

  “That’s why I never use it. Sometimes go by Les, but then people said I was “less-than” and it just got to be an old joke.” He shrugged. “I never gave you shit about being queer ‘cause I got it enough when I was a kid ‘cause of my name.”

  “Oh.” Ken wasn’t sure how to take that revelation.

  Leslie Cloy, owner of Cloy’s Hardware, surveyed the small town and wiped a tear away. “It don’t matter no more, I guess, everything that happened before. The divorce from Bertha…the kids going to live in California with her. It’s all done now. And this is the end. I don’t feel I’ve done much with my life and it’s not a good feeling. Always waiting for something to happen.”

  In the distance, the baby gave three sharp screams, then was silent. Lenore lowered her head. Ken felt his stomach heave, but he managed to keep his breakfast down.

  “Nothing matters when it’s all going to hell and there ain’t nothing we can do,” Mr. Cloy said and shook his head sadly.

  “I ain’t giving up,” Lenore declared in a low, firm voice. “I’m not gonna just sit here and watch the world end and not do a damn thing to survive.” She exhaled slowly. “I’m gonna go get my grandma.”

  “How?” Ken’s voice sounded high-pitched even to him. Despite the chaos in the town around them, he felt safe perched high up on his building. The thought of going down into the hell in the streets below made his insides twitch.

  “I don’t know, but I’m going. I’m not giving up.” Her voice was firm.

  Mr. Leslie Cloy swallowed more water and ate another cookie. “Well, ain’t much I can do no more.”

  Ken wanted to assure his old companion it would all be okay in the end, but he couldn’t. Mr. Cloy would be one of the dead soon. They all knew they were on his deathwatch.

  “You know what? I ain’t going to sit here like a big ol’ ‘less-than.’ I am on my way to meet my Maker, but you kids should at least get a shot at making it.” Mr. Cloy stood and rummaged in his jean pocket before pulling out his truck keys. “Take my truck and get the hell out of here. My shotgun is in the rack. Shotgun shells are in the glove compartment.”

  He tossed the keys toward them and Lenore snatched them out of the air.

  “That’s like a really sweet offer, Mr. Cloy, but we really have a serious problem with dead things being in the street. It would be pretty hard to get to the truck,” Ken reminded him.

  Mr. Cloy nodded somberly, then shrugged. “It was a thought. Wait! I can distract them!”

  “I s
o don’t like the sound of that,” Ken decided.

  “I can go to the edge of the roof and see if maybe the ones in the street will respond to me yelling down at them. Then you guys can go out the front door of the shop and get to the truck. Maybe I can get them around to the side of the building.” Mr. Cloy glanced at the desperate dead hands scrabbling at the sides of the window below. “They seem pretty determined to get to their prey once they got their sights on it. Gimme that rope.”

  Lenore shrugged at Ken and went to retrieve their makeshift rope.

  “You’re a good guy, Mr. Cloy,” Ken said finally. “Seriously, an all-around good guy. You’ve always been super cool with me even when I knew you weren’t all that comfortable with me being-”

  “It ain’t nothing. We’re human beings. Gotta remember that. ‘sides, Jesus never said nothin’ about gay people, so I don’t take what Pastor Baird said as gospel truth no how. You’re okay in my book. Always were.”

  Lenore tossed the rope down to Mr. Cloy. He snagged it and promptly started tying it to a pipe sticking out of the top of the roof of the storage room.

  “I’m gonna give it a trial shot and let you know how it goes,” he called out.

  “Thanks, Mr. Cloy-Leslie!” Ken felt tears in his eyes again and they burned almost as fiercely as the Texas sun.

  With a nod, Mr. Cloy lowered himself off the storage room and limped across the roof of his building. The zombies in the storage room began to howl as they caught sight of him.

  9.

  Escape

  Lenore stood with her arms folded over her ample bosom and once more swore to herself that she was not going to die today. There was no way on God’s slowly-dying earth that she was going to give up and die. She didn’t care how bad things looked, she didn’t care how much the zombies howled, she didn’t care about the fire in the distance, because she was not going to die today and that was that.

  Through narrowed eyes she watched Mr. Cloy hobble toward the edge of his building. Behind him, the dead gathered in the small window of the storage room moaned for his flesh. It was a terrible sound that made her skin crawl. Coupled with the fierce heat of the sun beating down on her bare head, she was getting a terrible headache that was making her even crankier.

  Beside her Ken was trembling. She could tell her buddy was trying to be brave, but his hands were quivering at his sides and she could see tears in his eyes. Ken was a sensitive soul even if he was a smart ass. She has half inclined to hug him and reassure him that everything was going to be okay, but they were both sweating like pigs and she really didn’t like touching anyone anyway. She just wasn’t very good with the whole touchy feely thing.

  Mr. Cloy made it to the edge of the building and stayed for a long moment just staring down. Lenore figured he was trying to get up his nerve, but when he looked over his shoulder at them she could see his eyes were wide with fear.

  “There are so many,” he called out to them.

  A fresh set of chills flowed down her spine.

  Ken grabbed her hand and she gave it a hard squeeze. His skin was slick with sweat and she knew it was from more than the sun’s fierce heat. Mr. Cloy looked terrified as he studied the street below. Lenore could see his knees knocking together and his jaw quivering. She wasn’t sure if it was the infection or if it was the sight of what was below. Maybe it was a little of both.

  “Okay, they are coming to...” Mr. Cloy wiped sweat from the back of his neck. “They’re all gathering down below me. I think...I think maybe I can hold them here so you guys can sneak out and get to my truck.”

  “Do you think we should risk it?” Ken’s voice was raw with fear.

  “Yeah. Cause I ain’t staying here to get trapped by those things,” Lenore answered firmly. “I’m going. If you want to stay, you can, Ken, but I don’t think it will be such a good idea.”

  Ken chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully before nodding. “You’re right.”

  Mr. Cloy hobbled along the edge of the roof and shouted down into the street. He waved his hand over his head and then hobbled back to the far edge of the building to draw the dead from the main street.

  “Lenore, Ken, I got them right under me and they are looking like they wanna climb the wall and get me. You two better get going now while the front street is clear.” Mr. Cloy looked painfully-pale and fragile as he gave them a small wave.

  “Thank you, Leslie,” Lenore called out.

  “We won’t ever forget you. You’ve been such a great friend!” Ken mimed giving Mr. Cloy a hug.

  Mr. Cloy grinned, shaking his head. “I guess the rapture comes a little later on. You guys have a fun ride up. I always wondered what it would be like.” He sighed and raised his hands over his head. “Come on! Over here. Come look at the human on the roof. Yay! That’s it. Come on over!”

  The cries and moans from below grew louder as the zombies trapped in the storage room became even more agitated. Lenore couldn’t imagine how Mr. Cloy felt with all those things staring at him so hungrily.

  Lenore and Ken reluctantly walked away and headed to the door leading downstairs. Just as they began their descent, they looked toward the man who was saving their lives.

  “He’s such a great guy,” Ken said at last.

  Lenore nodded, suddenly afraid she was about to cry.

  Together, they hurried down the stairs to Ken’s apartment. Lenore was anxious to leave, but bit her lip as Ken threw a few personal possessions into a backpack and searched for his cat. He finally found her asleep under his bed and shoved her into a cat carrier.

  “You’re kidding,” Lenore said.

  “I’m not leaving Cher,” he said firmly.

  “Fine!” Lenore couldn’t actually argue with him. She was running off after her grandmother when chances were she was already dead. How could she deny Ken his beloved cat? She gazed into the cat carrier to see Cher staring solemnly at her. After a second, the cat yawned and looked bored. “We’re both bat shit crazy.”

  Ken grabbed a heavy golf club from a bag in the hall closet. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Lenore grumbled and almost grabbed one for herself. She decided the coat rack had served them well so far, so she abandoned the thought. Ken unlocked the apartment door and they descended the stairs to the door that opened into the shop.

  Ken hesitated at the second door. “What if they got in? What if they’re in there waiting?”

  Lenore trembled with cold chills as adrenaline pumped through her body. “I’ll look.”

  They shifted places. She carefully unlocked the door and cracked it a few inches. She let out a sigh of relief. The shop was just as they had left it. The Sheriff’s dead body was still on the floor and the wardrobe was just as they had left it. Cautiously, she pressed the door completely open and edged around the corner to take a quick peek at the back door. It was also still closed.

  “We’re okay,” she assured Ken. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest she couldn’t imagine stepping out into the street. Her heart might explode from fright.

  She could hear the distant cries of the dead, but the banging on the door had ceased. Mr. Cloy was doing a great job keeping the dead around the corner of the street, but the undead cannibals were still terrifyingly close.

  In silence, they set down their things and moved to the wardrobe. They tried to be as quiet as possible and flinched when the wardrobe groaned and banged as they scooted it away from the door. They froze and waited, but none of the dead were drawn to the sound.

  Ken snatched Cher’s carrier off the floor and hoisted his golf club into a defensive position. Lenore grabbed the trusty coat rack and took a deep breath. Nervously, she stepped to the window, peeked through the curtain and examined the conditions on the street. It was empty of the dead, but the crashed cars were an obstacle. Mr. Cloy’s fancy navy-blue truck was parked across the street just beyond the wreckage.

  “Okay, get to the truck and get in. Don’t freak out. Keep calm and keep moving until you get to the
truck.” Lenore held the truck keys firmly in her hand and took several deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves.

  “I’m scared,” Ken whispered as his cat let out a soft, questioning meow.

  “Yeah, me, too. But keep moving. Don’t slow down. Just go,” she ordered. She took a deep breath and forced herself to open the door.

  Lenore froze in terror as the sound of the zombies nearby suddenly seemed much louder. For a second, they both didn’t move, then Ken barged past her and ran as fast as he could, his cat carrier banging against his side. Cursing all the noise he was making, Lenore forced her body into motion.

  Ken was light on his feet and maneuvered easily and swiftly around the cars. Lenore was much slower and she pumped her arms in an effort to move faster. She was barely clearing the first car when Ken reached the truck and scooted around to the passenger side.

  Lifting her arm, she punched the button to unlock the truck. To her horror, she also hit the panic button and the truck erupted into shrill shrieks and loud honking.

  “Lenore!”

  “Shit!” She paused in the middle of the road and fumbled with the keyless entry remote. Valuable seconds rushed by then she found the button and pressed it again, silencing the alarm.

  Moans and the sound of many feet took its place.

  Lenore fearfully glanced toward the intersection.

  Zombies flooded around the corner.

  10.

  Into Hell

  This was definitely one of those damn fool things people in horror movies did to get themselves killed, Lenore thought. Grunting with frustration, she shook off her temporary paralysis and lumbered toward Mr. Cloy’s truck.

  “Unlock it!” Ken’s voice was almost shrill in his panic.

  She hit the UNLOCK button this time and kept hitting it as she ran forward, scooting around the abandoned cars, and trying not to slip on the dark red puddles of blood.

  Ken whipped the passenger door open, tossed the cat carrier in, and climbed in all in one seamless motion. He scooted across the cab to the driver’s door and motioned to her frantically to hurry.