by C. Dulaney
“No, no this isn’t real,” I told myself. I lowered my rifle and pointed the barrel at Gus as I starting to back-peddle. The moaning was getting louder, beating and grinding in my head like glass. I dropped to my knees, suffocating, and the gun slipped from my sweaty palms. I think Gus realized what was happening to me because at that moment he started barking. Not that yippy noise most house-dogs make, but the long baying of a hound. I jumped; it felt like I was being shaken from a dream, and looked up at Gus. He took this as his cue to run over and lick my face. The shaking subsided, as did the zombie moans (which weren’t real to begin with). I took a deep breath and patted my friend on the head.
“Don’t let me do that again, or you’ll be on your own. Got it?” I told him, my voice trembling more than I would have liked. He answered me by licking his chops and sitting down.
I shook my head and stood slowly, deciding to abandon the barn. Gus was right, there was nothing back there and nothing as far as I could see in the pasture. Shaken up but once again in control, we walked back to the house just as the sun began to set behind the hills.
* * *
The light on the answering machine was blinking when I walked back into the kitchen. I hit the button, suddenly frozen in place wondering who had called. Ben. I rubbed my forehead and went about making a pot of coffee. His message wasn’t frantic, just letting me know they were at the farm and to call him as soon as I got his message. I figured I had time to at least put on a pot of Joe before he started freaking out. It wouldn’t be the first time I would figure something wrong.
“Kasey Stratford, where the hell have you been?! I called and you didn’t answer, what’s wrong?!” He was obviously hysterical.
“Take it easy, nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. I just did some patrolling outside. Calm down okay? I’m fine. And don’t ever last-name me again, you’re not my mother.” I took a cup from the cupboard and walked over to the coffee pot.
“Well how was I supposed to know that?! With everything that’s going on, you knew damn well I would have been worried sick if you hadn’t answered the phone.”
“Are you mad?” I smiled and tried very hard not to laugh.
He sighed and was quiet a moment. “No, just exhausted,” he finally answered. “How are things there? Still no sign of them?”
“Basically,” I said, a wave of nausea hitting me as I recalled my neighbor’s demise. I stared at the coffee as it dribbled into the pot.
“Basically what? Basically good, or are you just avoiding the question?”
“Well thank you, Captain Obvious, I wasn’t aware of that. And yes, things are as fine as can be expected here. And yes, I’ve seen one. But it’s been taken care of.”
His voice softened, knowing my sarcasm was an old mechanism I always used just before “going into the woods.”
“I’m sorry, just take it easy okay? Put on some coffee, listen to some tunes, and relax. This would be a very bad time for you to shut down and fold.”
I chuckled as I poured myself a cup, thinking about how well he knew me even though we had never even seen each other face to face. Believe it or not, people can grow quite close only conversing online and by phone. I had known him for roughly six years now, first meeting him in a horror movie chat room.
“I’m okay. Or I will be as soon as I know what’s going on there,” I said.
He sighed again and I could hear him walking, moving away from the voices in the background.
“That’s a loaded statement. I hope your coffee is ready, and it’s a full pot.” He was hesitating and there was grief in his voice. I once again sat down in my worn kitchen chair, coffee cup full and Gus at my feet.
“Lay it on me.” I wanted to hear his story, if the McKinley’s were okay, and I knew if I could keep him talking, I wouldn’t have to tell him about the panic attack I’d suffered earlier.
Chapter Four
Later that day: Ben’s side
“Mike, I swear to God, if the next words outta your mouth are ‘I have to piss,’ or ‘Are we there yet,’ I’m gonna stop at the next zombie and put your ass out,” Jake said, his teeth clenched as he stared out the windshield. Zack snorted beside him and glanced back at Mike, who had just swallowed his next question. Ben smiled; he liked Mike, even though he was a little too high-strung for his own good. Ben reached over the sleeping Kyra and patted Mike’s shoulder, making a face in the direction of the driver’s seat. Mike covered his mouth, not wanting Jake to hear anything from him for fear he might make good on his threat.
Ben relaxed back against the seat and watched the trees streak by. The only stop they had made was at a small gun shop on the farthest edge of town. Now they were on the last leg of a long and painfully slow trip, and Ben was refreshed to smell anything other than smoke and death. The driving had been tedious at first, Jake having to weave in and out of traffic, dodging not only cars but masses of zombies, but they were now clocking a fairly decent speed. This would put them at the farm early and about that there were no complaints.
Jake slowed and turned left off the main road. Ben noticed the mailbox flag was up. Kyra woke, being jostled around by the bumpy gravel driveway.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Almost there,” Ben whispered, patting her shoulder with one hand while moving his other behind her shoulders to pull her off of Mike. Jake slowed as they neared the house. The sun was almost down and the house was dark.
“Shit,” Jake mumbled and eased to a stop just in front of the garage. He put the Jeep in park and shut it down. Everyone remained silent as they studied the house, looking for any sign of movement, listening for any sign of life. Zack was the first to speak.
“We going in?”
“Yeah,” Jake answered. He pulled a shotgun from between the seats and worked the pump. He looked back at Ben and nodded.
“Are you comin?” he asked. Ben simply nodded and opened his door. Kyra grabbed his hand and squeezed.
“Be careful,” she said before releasing his fingers.
“I will. You two stay here. Mike, if there’s trouble, use that gun,” he said as he pointed to the pistol in Mike’s lap. Mike nodded, then shared a look with Kyra as Ben shut the door. He checked his revolver, made sure it was loaded, then joined Zack and Jake at the porch steps.
“Should we knock first?” Ben asked. He had used guns before at the shooting range, but the pistol suddenly felt very alien in his hand. Jake was staring at the front door like he was expecting Ed McMahon.
“Yeah I guess we should. If Granddad is home, he wouldn’t appreciate us just bargin’ in.” With the shotgun hanging at his side, he proceeded slowly up the steps. Zack winced as the old wood creaked and whined under their weight. He had a rifle propped over his shoulder, the butt of the stock in his palm. Jake opened the screen door, glanced at Ben one more time, and then rapped his knuckles against the wood. They listened intently for several minutes, but heard nothing. Ben walked over and tried to see through the mudroom window, but it was too dark inside. Jake knocked again, this time harder and longer. Still nothing. He pursed his lips and turned to Zack and Ben.
“We need a flashlight,” he said.
“Yeah hang on,” Ben said and skidded down the steps, then jogged over to the Jeep. He opened the back door and rummaged through his backpack. Jake and Zack remained on the porch, mumbling to each other and trying to see through the windows.
“What’s going on?” Kyra whispered as she and Mike leaned in closer.
“Mr. McKinley isn’t answering the door so we’re going in and make sure everything is okay.” He found the long Mag-light and was turning to leave.
“Is he dead?” Mike asked.
“I don’t know. They may not be at home is all. That’s what we’re going in to find out,” Ben answered and slammed the door. He hurried back onto the porch and handed the light to Jake.
* * *
Moonlight spilled through the kitchen window, washing over the table and revealing a dinner on
ly half-eaten. Jake stuffed the house key in his back pocket and touched the meatloaf as he walked by, noticing it was cold. Everything else looked as it should, no signs of a struggle. Zack and Ben followed closely as they left the kitchen and entered the living room. Jake maneuvered around the furniture; having grown up here he didn’t need light to find his way. He motioned for Ben and Zack to stay put, while he went on to check the bathroom and guest bedroom. Still no sign of anything or anyone.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” he whispered as he strode back to the others. Ben jerked his head in the direction of the stairs. Jake set his jaw, nodded, and moved on.
The beam from the flashlight jumped and danced against the wall as they climbed the steps. There was still no sound, no scratching, nothing to indicate anyone was home. Jake reached the top first, looked left, then right, and motioned for the other two to check the bedroom on the left. He would take the right; his grandparents’ bedroom.
Zack approached the door and pressed his ear against it. Ben stood maybe a step behind him, shoulders bunched and gripping the pistol tightly with both hands. Zack took several deep breaths and nodded once to Ben before turning the doorknob. He regretted throwing the door open the second he realized he didn’t have the flashlight.
“Goddamn it!” he hissed as he hit the light switch and swung the barrel into the doorway. Ben immediately followed him in, gun raised and head snapping back and forth.
“Shh,” Ben said, halting just inside the door behind Zack. They listened closely, even sniffed at the air, but saw and smelled nothing. Ben walked to the bed and flipped the comforter back, then knelt on one knee and checked underneath; nothing. They were alone. He heard Zack sigh heavily, then felt his hand on his shoulder.
“C’mon, let’s find Jake,” he said as he pushed Ben into the hall.
* * *
Ben stopped so suddenly when he reached the open bedroom door that Zack almost knocked him over. He peeked over Ben’s shoulder, then stepped back into the hall. He rested his rifle against the banister and folded his arms across his chest, keeping his back to the scene inside.
The lamp on the nightstand cast an amber glow through the room. Jake stood at the foot of the bed with the barrel of his shotgun pointed at the floor. Ben made a move towards him but Jake just held up his palm, his eyes never leaving the bed. They both watched silently as Mrs. McKinley sat on the edge and gently stroked her dead husband’s hand. She appeared to be totally oblivious to their presence. They could both see Bill had died of something other than a bite; there were no traumatic injuries, nothing to indicate a zombie attack. There was an empty glass on the nightstand and a prescription bottle next to it. Ben glanced at Jake again, then back to Mrs. McKinley. He holstered his gun and eased himself over to her side.
“Mrs. McKinley?” he asked as he laid a hand on her shoulder. She flinched at his touch and slowly turned her head. Ben could see tears streaking her face, but otherwise she was unharmed. He kneeled next to her and glanced at Bill before locking his eyes on her.
“It’s okay now. I’m here to help you. Jake is here too,” he motioned towards Jake. “What happened here Mrs. McKinley?”
She didn’t answer him, just continued to stare with a blank expression on her face and tears falling from her eyes. Ben placed his other hand over hers, holding it and Mr. McKinley’s. He could feel Bill’s fingers were cold, very cold, and estimated he had been dead for some time. He leaned back and caught Jake’s eye. He frowned and jerked his head, motioning Jake to move his ass and comfort his grandmother. Instead Jake went straight for the pill bottle. He peered at it closely and read the label over and over, trying to make sense of what his eyes were telling him. He set in down, then turned and walked out of the room.
“Go back downstairs and turn on all the lights. Then go outside and bring Mike and Kyra in. The house is safe,” he said without a hint of emotion in his voice. Zack simply nodded, picked up his gun, and left. Jake leaned against the banister, his fingers gripping the old wood so tightly his knuckles turned white. He stood that way for a long time; head lowered with his eyes squeezed shut. He didn’t hear Ben when he finally stepped out of the room and walked over beside him.
“What do you want to do about this?” Ben whispered. Jake just shook his head, unable to speak. Ben hesitated, and then continued. “I think she’s in shock. I can’t get her to answer me, or leave the bed.” He laid a hand on his friend’s back, trying to comfort him and knowing it would only piss Jake off. He was surprised when a sob escaped and Jake slid to the floor. Ben kneeled down behind him, his hand pressed against Jake’s back, and let him cry.
* * *
“Maybe I should try talking to her,” Kyra said. Mike and Zack had helped her check all the windows and brace the two doors as best they could. For the time being the downstairs was secure. At least until daylight came and they could get out to the storage shed to check for anything they could use to board the windows up. They sat in the living room, the two guys remaining still as Kyra fidgeted. Ben and Jake were still upstairs trying to get through to Mrs. McKinley. Ben had come down once to fill them in on the situation, and Kyra had been a basket case ever since. She didn’t let it show, except for the furious way her fingers kept twisting a lock of her hair. But she thought she could help, even though she was a stranger in this house.
Mike stood as they heard footsteps coming down the stairs. “How is she?” he asked. Jake looked pale and beaten as he walked past Mike without answering and sat in the chair across from Kyra. Ben simply shrugged and sighed.
“I don’t know. She just sits there, not saying a word,” he said. He ran his hand through his hair and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Mike turned around and faced the others with his hands on his hips.
“Well we have to do something. Do we even know how long she’s been sitting up there? She has to be hungry. And Bill, we need to bury him. Can’t just leave a body lying around,” he said, his voice becoming louder as he went on.
“Shut your mouth,” Jake growled as he dug his fingers into the arms of the chair. Zack tensed and moved to the edge of his seat, his hand grabbing Kyra and pulling her back to the couch when she started to stand. He glanced at her quickly and shook his head, hoping she got the hint. Ben returned with a bottle of water and froze in place behind them.
“What Jake? I’m just saying what everyone else is already thinking. I get it, this is your house and those are your grandparents. But damn man, the world is going to hell and I’m scared! We need to be getting our shit together instead of sitting here on our-” He didn’t have a chance to finish his lecture. Jake bolted out of the chair and was on top of Mike before the others could stop him.
A right-handed upper-cut slammed Mike onto the floor by the staircase, knocking over a ficus plant and spilling soil onto the hardwood floor. Jake had his hands around the antagonist’s throat and was intent on shutting the mouthy asshole up, even if he had to choke him to death to do it. His face was twisted in fury as he screamed through clenched teeth.
“You sonofabitch!” he cried as he released the stranglehold and started wailing on Mike with his fists. Zack and Ben both tried to pull him off, both getting elbowed in the chin and nose by Jake’s frantic jabs and punches. Kyra jumped to her feet, helpless to stop the attack. Over and over Jake’s fists pounded as his agony and grief poured through them. Again the other men tried restraining him and again Jake turned on them, shoving them away before returning to Mike’s bloodied face.
“Stop that right this instant,” a calm and commanding voice said. Zack, Ben and Kyra looked up instantly and saw Mrs. McKinley on the stairs, her hands on the banister, and her eyes on her grandson. Jake stopped mid-swing and stared at her. Mike was gasping; Jake had gripped his left hand around Mike’s throat again. Blood poured from his mouth and nose, and his cheek and eye were also bruised and swelling.
“Jacob McKinley, I said stop this instant,” she repeated as she started down the steps. Ben went around and
met her at the bottom, taking her hand to help steady her. Zack reached down, grabbed Jake by the collar, and yanked him off Mike.
“Grandma,” Jake stuttered. His face was flushed red and his fists were bleeding. He stood there as Zack held him by the scruff of his neck looking like a kid who had just been caught eating a cookie before dinner. Mike coughed and gagged as he rubbed his throat and rolled to one side to spit out a mouthful of blood. And a couple of teeth. Mrs. McKinley slowly approached Jake, Ben still at her elbow, until she was standing face to face with him.
“Is this how we treat guests, Jacob?” she asked, glancing down at Mike and shaking her head in that sad way only a mother (or a grandmother in this case), can. “You weren’t raised in a barn, young man.”
Kyra had edged closer to the others and, after a long moment of silence, finally spoke. “Mrs. McKinley, you should sit and rest. Let me bring you a cup of tea, or water if you like?” Kyra asked. The older woman turned and smiled.
“You may call me Nancy, and tea would be lovely, dear.”
Chapter Five
October 1st: the first night
I sat at the kitchen table for hours after hearing Ben’s account of what had happened at the farm. The coffee pot had long since been drained and Gus was fast asleep at my feet. The moon was bright outside, but inside it was total darkness. Lost in my brooding thoughts, I had neglected to turn on any of the lights. I had also neglected my stomach, which was telling me it was way past suppertime. I went to the cupboard and grabbed a granola bar, then stood and looked out the only first floor window I hadn’t boarded up. I figured being small and over the kitchen sink, it was unlikely a deadhead would barge in anytime soon.
