by TW Brown
I hurried to them and, after glancing over my shoulder where Michael continued to sit beside Chewie, I took each down with a single blow to the head. There was no scream, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I returned to my little group. Chewie looked up at me as the boy continued to stroke her soft, black fur with a look that was like, ‘No worries, I got things covered here with the boy.’
“Okay…who’s hungry?” I asked with a smile.
Selina was the only one who raised her hand. I followed Betty’s gaze and realized that she was fixed on the corpse of the girl sprawled over the counter. Drops of dark fluid dripped from the gaping divide I’d created in her skull, forming a large puddle on the floor.
Looking out front, there was still no sign of any activity. That scream had not brought anything down on us; at least for the time being. I very unceremoniously grabbed the girl and dragged her over the counter. That proved more difficult than I’d imagined. A dead body seems to weigh an awful lot.
It seemed to take forever, but at last, I got the three bodies out the front door. I had sort of stacked them off to the side of the entrance and then returned inside and went straight to the men’s room. I felt like I should strip down and wash every inch of my body, but I settled for my arms and scrubbed from just above the elbows all the way to my fingertips.
After the first cleaning, I noticed some black under one finger nail and had to dig furiously to get it out and then wash my hands again. As I did, I imagined Adrian Monk in my place and started to laugh at the thought of how my once favorite television detective would have probably walked right into that zombie horde and called it quits. Of course, he would’ve offered the zombies proper napkins to wear as bibs before they ate him. I exited the bathroom still chuckling which earned me raised eyebrows from Betty and a demand from Selina to fill her in on what was so funny.
“We heard you laughing out here,” the girl snorted.
“Betty said you must have gone crazy,” Michael deadpanned.
I tousled his hair as I passed and he jerked away from me like I’d just slapped him. Chewie moved between us and nosed the boy, calming him just as fast as I’d agitated him.
“Okay. Now who’s hungry?” I asked again.
The response was much more positive, but I noticed Betty could not stop glancing out front as she walked through the small café and made her way to the back. There was still a lingering stench from the undead, but, luckily, there were a bank of windows up high along one side. I had to climb up and open them all, but with a breeze blowing through the kitchen and the grill turned on, that stink was either slowly pushed out, or we just became numb to it.
In moments, I had patties from the walk-in that had obviously been pulled for the upcoming day’s shift sizzling on the large grill. While I flipped the burgers, Betty helped by pulling out baskets and prepping a series of buns. She asked each of the kids what they liked on theirs and then me.
“Pretty much anything,” I said as I flipped each burger and started to peel slices of cheese to finish them off with.
“Even monkey butt?” Selina giggled.
At first I was caught off balance by the question. When I looked over at her, I saw a crooked smile on her lips, but hesitation in her eyes. It hit me right then what these kids—or at least her since I had no clue as to young Michael’s mindset—were experiencing and how frightening it had to be. She wanted to laugh and have a moment of normal.
“Especially monkey butt,” I replied, giving her a big wink as I did.
“Eww, gross! Evan likes monkey butt,” she squealed.
My eyes flicked to the open windows as a moan drifted on that same breeze that had been cleansing our air of undead stink. She saw my glance and shut down instantly. Her face was crumbling on itself as that single moment of levity was shattered.
“Better than skunk butt,” I whispered as loud as I dared.
That made her giggle and I breathed an inner sigh of relief. I pushed away thoughts of what sort of world these two children—and any others that might be fortunate enough to survive—might have to look forward to.
At last, the burgers were ready and we all sat down on the floor to eat. To their credit, the kids never asked why we could not go into the dining area. I took my first bite and froze as I watched Michael open his burger and lick all the ketchup from one side and then fling his leaf of lettuce away. He pressed the buns together again and took his first bite. With a nod that I took as satisfaction, he started eating.
Betty had managed to find plastic cups and filled each with water. When Selina asked for soda, she was told that she could have some later if she ate all her burger and finished her water. That actually seemed to satisfy her, and she began to eat with gusto. Betty caught me staring and gave me a slight nod.
Chewie had a trio of patties as well as a carrot from the chiller. That last bit of her meal seemed to surprise everybody and more than once I noticed Betty and Selina gape as the big Newfoundland gnawed on the orange vegetable like it was a huge, meaty bone.
“She also like apples and watermelon,” I said after swallowing a bite of what might’ve been the best burger I’d ever eaten. It sure felt that way as I licked a trail of grease that began to drip down my arm.
When the last bites had been taken, everybody leaned back with content yawns. I saw eyes closing as Selina and Michael’s head drooped, his chest already rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.
“Maybe we can take a break here,” I whispered to Betty. I saw the obvious relief on her face and realized that I was exhausted myself.
I motioned for her to stay put and crept to the door to the front part of the café and peered out. A pair of zombies were wandering across it at that exact moment, and I unconsciously held my breath as if they might be able to hear it. My eyes drifted to the door we’d come in and I saw that single oval knob gleaming as if the very heavens were shining on it.
The lock.
If I could go turn that without being noticed, we’d at least be safe from any zombies wandering in on us. I was now realizing how tired I was from the day-long surges and recessions of adrenaline coupled with a lack of any quality sleep.
I stood there watching the zombies for what seemed like an eternity before they finally shambled out of sight. As soon as they were gone, I cracked the door open, making a point to stay crouched behind the counter for a few seconds until I felt like it was safe to go lock the door.
Scurrying across the open diner floor, I reached the door and turned the knob, then dashed back to the counter and ducked behind it once more. After a few deep, steadying breaths, I peered over the counter to see that the parking lot was still empty.
Satisfied that we were at least somewhat safe for the time being, I joined Betty and the kids in the back. Sliding down the wall, I saw that Chewie was curled up around the feet of Michael. Part of me wanted to be jealous, but it was impossible for that emotion to gain any traction. One of the things that Chewie had done since she’d been a pup was to go to pediatric centers and assisted living centers.
Newfoundlands were famous for being companion dogs. She obviously sensed that her skills were needed for that boy. Hell, maybe she knew something was different about him. Whatever the case, my eyes closed, lids fluttering down like fall leaves. My last recollection was of Chewie snuggling in closer to the boy as his hand absently stroked the length of her neck.
***
I opened my eyes to almost perfect darkness. I say almost because there was a silver glow from the moon coming in from the windows high up in the wall directly across from me. It was probably that light in my eyes that woke me.
I looked around and could barely make out shadowy forms of my fellow survivors. Something warm and wet ran up the length of my arm and I recognized Chewie’s massive and somewhat prickly tongue as it swabbed at me. I reached over and gave her head a rub, kneading her ears like I knew she loved. She pulled back and made a high-pitched whine in response.
“What’s t
he matter, girl?” I asked as I stretched and stood up.
A snort from one of the dark lumps got my attention. It took me a few seconds to realize that I was missing something important. I cleared my head of the last vestiges of sleep and tried to figure out what I was missing.
“Dammit!” I swore in the darkness.
A snore cut off midway and I heard Betty mumble and then moan. “What? Huh?” she slurred.
“Michael is gone,” I said over my shoulder as I headed for the front of the restaurant.
I whisper-called his name a few times but did not trust that he would actually answer me, so I searched every dark corner and looked under every table. After checking the bathroom, the sick feeling that was rising in my throat had become a burning sensation that tasted like sour mustard and charred beef.
Like the condemned being led to the gallows, I walked to the glass door. My hand fumbled around until I found the knob of the deadbolt lock. It was up and down. I remember very distinctly that it ended sideways after I locked the door.
Pushing it open, the chilly night air caused my skin to pebble. The silence was broken by a distant burst of gunfire punctuated by a boom that I took to be a shotgun.
Moans of the undead reached my ears from almost every direction. None of them seemed terribly close, but none were far enough away not to fill me with a sense of dread.
My conscience stabbed me in the heart as it reminded me of some of my earlier musings about the children being a liability, and that burning in the back of my throat became something else. Staggering a few steps out into the parking lot, I bent at the waist, my hands slamming into my knees as I vomited violently. The wet splatter of chunky liquid on the asphalt sounded like Niagara Falls in the relative silence. The smell came on the heels of that sound and compounded my purging reaction.
When I was finished, I stood and turned to see Betty standing in the doorway. I made my way back to the café on wobbly knees.
“You found him?” she asked, obviously mistaking my reaction.
“No, but he definitely left,” I whispered. “I locked that door, and now it is unlocked.”
Betty stifled a sob and threw her hand to her mouth as that slight noise echoed around the open inside of the restaurant. A low moan from somewhere close elicited a squeak and she plugged her mouth with two fists instead of just the one.
“We have to find him,” she finally whispered once I shut the door.
“And how do you suggest we do that?” I shot back, failing at hiding my own anger. She didn’t have to know it was directed more at myself than at her. “It’s pitch black out there.”
And that was when a new realization struck. I turned and looked outside again. While I could make out a distant glow in the direction of Portland, the power was out in this neighborhood. None of the streetlights were working. Also, I now realized that the low hum of the cooler where the kids had grabbed that first soda was now gone. It was as quiet as the tomb here in our little sanctuary.
“Can’t your dog sniff around for him or something?” Betty asked.
“She isn’t a tracking dog. She would just as likely lead us to a zombie as she would the boy if I let her out and followed her lead.”
“But I thought dogs had excellent noses.” The desperation in her tone is the only reason I bit back a harsh response.
“Tracking is a skill. Chewie is a registered companion, and she was even certified at the first level of water rescue,” I answered. “Tracking a person is something else entirely.”
“We can’t just do nothing,” she insisted.
“Until the sun comes up, that is all we can do,” I answered.
I turned back to the front windows and scanned the parking lot, hoping beyond reason to see a small shape skip past. Not even a zombie wandered by.
I continued to stand there with no idea how much time elapsed. Eventually, the darkness began to ebb and I started to make out shapes more clearly. Out on Johnson Creek Boulevard, I saw a few dark figures moving along in both directions. The undead paid each other no mind. That they did not all seem to be moving in a single direction, as if in pursuit, was some small comfort. Also, I did not see any clusters gathered around something on the ground. I was taking solace in everything I could at the moment.
The door to the kitchen area eventually opened and Betty appeared with a bleary-eyed Selina. The lack of questions told me that the girl had probably been informed in some nature as to the fact about our missing group member.
Betty had a burlap shoulder bag over each arm and I mentally smacked my forehead. She’d thought to gather at least a few supplies. It was good to see she was starting to figure out how dire our situation was and that she needed to step up her game.
“We need to get moving.” I indicated outside the café. “Things are a bit busy out there. We may have to fight off a few of the zombies, but if you two stay close, we should be okay.”
“How are we gonna fight?” Selina asked, a slight tremor in her voice.
She had a point. We’d taken care of hunger and thirst, but I had not thought to find them any sort of weapon. Before we walked out this door, there had to be something in this place that each of them could carry.
I walked back to the door leading into the kitchen. If they were going to be any help, I had to find them something that allowed them to attack from a distance. The idea dawned that perhaps they didn’t have to actually kill a zombie if they could just keep it at bay long enough for me to take it out.
I found a push broom. “Selina?” The girl came over to me. “If one of the zombies came, do you think that you could shove it away with this?” I handed it to her.
She looked at it with obvious confusion. “How will this help?”
“Pretend that I’m a zomb—” I didn’t finish getting the words out of my mouth when she whirled the broom around and clocked me with the heavy brush end of it.
“Like that?” she asked innocently.
I rubbed my shoulder and nodded. “Pretty much.”
“Okay.” She seemed satisfied.
Now all I needed was something for Betty. I looked around at all the cutlery, but that meant she would be fighting the undead up close. I didn’t see that as likely.
“How about this?” Betty said and I turned to see her holding a short metal paddle.
“What the heck would that be doing in the kitchen?” I asked.
“Maybe for that huge mixer over there?” She pointed to the largest mixer that I’d ever seen in my life. It was in a back corner and easily a foot taller than me. The bowl for it looked like Selina could climb in and hide inside it.
“Okay.” We all gathered together and I opened the door to the front of the café. I must’ve been talking louder than I thought, because apparently we’d drawn some of the nearby undead to the glass-fronted entrance.
“No time like the present,” I muttered. Turning to Selina and Betty, I asked, “Are you ready?”
There was a pause and I became more and more tense with the sound of each hand slapping on the glass. Selina was looking dubiously at her broom…and I didn’t blame her. What the heck was I thinking?
“We can do this,” Betty spoke up. She sounded resolute and certain.
“Just stay with me. If we start to get separated, make a hissing sound or something…just don’t yell, got it?” I made eye contact with each of them to be certain there was no misunderstanding.
Both of them nodded.
Through this entire experience, I’d managed to save that one small carry bag. I knelt, moved my picture of Stephanie aside and rummaged through the miniscule number of items that I’d managed to save thus far. I shoved one of the boxes of bullets in one pocket. I opened the other and dumped the contents into the other one so that I had a ready supply of loose bullets that I would not have to fumble around with if the need arose.
I could feel my hands starting to tremble and realized that I was suddenly scared out of my wits. There would be no way out of this pl
ace without taking down a good number of the walking dead. Despite what they were, it was still a little difficult not to see them as people. The early morning gloom only made it worse since it masked their inhumanity. At the moment, they just looked like very anxious patrons wanting in. The problem was in what it was they were hoping to feast on.
After taking one more deep breath, I went to the door, turned the lock, and shoved it open. The zombie that had been directly in front of the door tumbled backwards and knocked another one over like a pair of bowling pins. I stepped out and brought down my hand axe, cleaving the skull of the closest zombie.
Betty was right behind me and jabbed out at a zombie that was trying to come at us from the left. As soon as it fell back, she moved in with a vengeance and brought the end of the paddle down on one of the two zombies that I’d knocked over when we exited.
I felt something against my back and then Selina was at my side with her broom. She poked at a zombie on the ground. It reached for her and she screamed. I froze as heads turned.
The day was just breaking and the sun was spilling across the scene. I had not really been able to see much past the parking lot. The road had been in shadow, and I’d seen a few figures moving out that way. What I had not been able to see were all the zombies milling about just down the road at that overpass we’d crossed. For some reason, there were still a whole lot of them clustered around down there.
“Run!” I hissed, shoving the next zombie aside, no longer concerned with dropping them. If we stopped to fight here, the wave coming up at us would wash over us within minutes.
Chewie shoved past me and bowled over a zombie policeman. I noted that his holster was empty, but I doubt it would have mattered. The moans of the undead were growing in volume, and looking to our left, there were more spilling around the corner by the insurance agent.
