He shook his head. “It’s overheated. We need a tow truck, but who knows where we could even find one. I don’t have a phone book, and my internet isn’t working right now.” He held his phone up. “I don’t even have a signal.”
From the back passenger seat, Talia pointed across the road to a tall building obscured by trees. “Maybe there’s someone in there who can help,” she said. “We should check it out.”
Sam shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt. Well, it could...but it’s worth the risk. Can’t just stand around all day.”
Dallas made sure to grab her pizza cutter on the way out. It was a bit clunky and still streaked with dried blood. But it was light, and she’d rather be caught with it than without it.
It was late morning, and the sun shone down almost directly on them. It still hadn’t rained, but the air was still sticky as ever. The South was known for its off the charts humidity. Between May and September, Dallas usually spent as little time outdoors as possible. The temperature had started to cool down since the beginning of fall, but the moisture level rarely changed.
A path in the grove led to a little red brick building with a tall steeple and iron fence. “Today is Sunday,” Dallas said.
“How do you know?” Sam asked. “I lost track of the days.”
“The display on my phone.”
“Shouldn’t there be more people here if it’s Sunday?”
“It’s almost noon. They’re probably done with services. But I bet there’s still someone left in the building. The pastor, or maybe a janitor. They can probably help us.”
But there was only one car in the parking lot. A hearse was parked just outside the fence, and inside the church yard stood about twenty graying headstones. Talia whimpered and pointed to the cemetery gates.
“Relax,” Dallas said. “None of those graves have been disturbed. And there’s even a car, so they might be able to give us a ride somewhere. Come on, let’s go in.”
“Yeah,” Talia whispered, “A car that holds dead people.” Dallas wanted to make some quip back, tell her that if she wanted to keep from being a dead person herself she would take any means of transportation available. But she held her tongue.
“Let’s go in anyway,” Pierce said. “We need help, no matter what we have to do to get it.”
So they walked in, through giant white double doors and into a sanctuary. The room was covered by a deep red carpet and, to Dallas’s surprise, was brightly lit. In a line near the entrance ran at least a dozen portraits of middle aged and graying men.
“What are those?” Pierce said.
“All the pastors who have served here before,” Dallas responded. “Come on, let’s find someone.”
On a stand near the entrance was a large framed photograph of a man in his early fifties, with graying hair and slightly wrinkled skin. The carpet continued down the aisle, past the pews and onto the steps. Down the aisle, right in front of the pulpit, was a silver coffin.
“Um...what’s that doing here?” Talia asked.
“I guess they were having a funeral,” Dallas said. “Or they’re about to. If the body is at the church and not the funeral home, they’re probably having it really soon. Or were planning to.”
“So, what does that mean? This town is pretty quiet. Do you think everyone...well...”
“No Tally, I don’t think everyone turned. This place would be a wreck. I think they just left before they could have the service.”
Talia snickered. “Or maybe nobody came to his funeral because nobody liked him.”
Sam ran his hands along the altar. “Have you guys ever heard the story about the guy who was traveling and had to stop to use the bathroom? He stops at this funeral home and the director makes him sign the guestbook, even though he’s only going to be there for a few minutes.” He stopped at the coffin. “So a few weeks later, he gets this phone call. Turns out they were having a visitation that night. The guy was loaded, but apparently kind of a jerk because nobody came to his funeral. His fortune was supposed to be divided among anyone who came to the visitation. But this guy was the only one who stopped by, so he got all of his...oh shit.” He bumped into the casket, which slid down the metal stand. He caught it just in time.
Dallas laughed. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to swear in church? God’s going to strike you down with lightning for that one.” He didn’t move. “Sam? Are you okay?”
Sam nudged the coffin again. It slid easily down the stand, and he pulled it back up. “It’s really light,” he said. “Well, not super light. But not as heavy as it would be if...”
“If there was a body inside,” Dallas finished for him.
Sam didn’t respond, but slowly lifted the lid. Dallas, Talia, and Pierce gathered around the coffin like mourners.
It was empty.
Pierce muttered a swear word far worse than Sam’s. Dallas stared at the bottom of the casket, not moving.
“Okay, let’s not panic,” Talia said. “He was probably cremated or something, and the casket is just for show. Or maybe he went missing. Died in a plane crash or something, and they never recovered the body, but had to buy a casket anyway...you know just for show.”
“Or maybe his body is still at the funeral home,” Sam added.
“I don’t know,” Dallas said, “But as long as we’re here, we need to make the best of it.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Dal?” Sam said. “I don’t care if Talia’s right. I want to get out of here. Let’s leave while we still can.”
“How?” Dallas threw up her hands. “We have no working car and very few weapons.”
Sam jumped up and down. “There’s a car outside that we can get running if I can hot wire it. Better yet, maybe we can find the keys!”
“Maybe so,” Dallas said, “But both those things still take time. And I want to try and find weapons while we’re here.”
“What kind of weapons are we going to find in a church?”
“You’d be surprised.” Dallas motioned with her finger. “Follow me.”
“Are you going to make us fishers of men?” Sam quipped.
Dallas ignored him. “Just come this way.” They exited the sanctuary and went across a burgundy carpeted hall into another room.
They entered what looked like a children’s Sunday School classroom. The walls were made of dark stained cedar, and the floor was bright white and tiled, but mostly covered by a dark blue rug. Several rows of tiny wooden tables and chairs covered the rug, and a dollhouse sat in the corner. There was another stack of shelves to their right, and Dallas headed there. Setting her pizza cutter down on a table, she opened the door to row after row of glue sticks, construction paper, a mini stereo...and several pairs of scissors. They were safety scissors, so they weren’t as sharp as the pizza cutter, but they would work just fine.
She grabbed the handles of three pairs of scissors and handed them out. “Keep these on you while you can,” she said. “They may be the only other weapons we get for awhile.” She stuck hers in her back pocket. Better to have five mediocre weapons than one — or none.
She reached in for a fourth pair and accidentally knocked her hand against a button on the stereo. A familiar gospel hymn, sung by unsuspecting children, echoed through the room. She shuddered and turned it off.
“Wow, now that was scary,” Pierce mumbled. “Did you guys have to listen to that stuff at church when you were kids?”
Dallas was attempting to come up with a sarcastic response when the overhead lights flickered, and a low moan echoed from down the hallway. Talia gasped, but Dallas took a step forward, grabbing her pizza cutter and gripping it tightly. She headed for the open door and back into the hall.
“Dallas, where are you going?” Sam said, but followed her anyway, Talia and Pierce behind him. “Why are you going toward the sound? Are you looking for trouble?”
“Do you remember world history sophomore year? We studied the Battle of
Thermopylae between the Persians and the Spartans. The Spartans were practically raised to be soldiers, and they were really good warriors. But they were all killed by the Persians because their army was three times bigger and they just overpowered them. Even if a species is more advanced or smarter than their prey, the inferior species can still win by sheer numbers. If we’re not careful, zombies will outnumber us and we won’t be able to run from them. The more we kill now, the better.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Talia said. “Can we please go?”
“No! What if whoever — or whatever — it is down there stays down there? What if it gets out and kills someone? What if that person is someone we love?” She stopped herself before she could say Ashleigh’s name.
They rounded the corner and Dallas instinctively put a hand out to stop Sam. A few feet down the hall, a zombie sat crouched over a body. Dallas couldn’t see the body very well, but there was blood sprayed on the carpet and surrounding walls. The zombie chewed greedily on the corpse’s internal organs.
“It’s not even paying attention to us,” Talia said. “Come on, let’s go.” Sure enough, the zombie didn’t react at all to their presence.
“Where are we going to go?” Dallas said. “Should we try to find someone?”
“Dallas, there’s nobody here. There never was. That car was just there for the cemetery.”
She felt Sam’s hand in hers. “Come on Dal, let’s get out of here.” She barely even registered it in her brain as he led her back around the corner. All she could think about was how warm his hand felt.
As they rounded the corner, a noise echoed between the walls. Pierce frowned and pulled his phone out of his pocket; it was ringing. Loud.
From behind them, there was a groan. “Shit,” Pierce whispered. He repeatedly hit a button on his phone; it finally silenced, but it was too late. The zombie rounded the corner.
At the House of Blues two nights earlier, Tatum had been slow moving and confused. This zombie, formerly a man in his late forties, looked at them with a gleam in his eyes. It reminded Dallas of the way her father looked at steaks when they went out to eat.
The zombie charged at them like a bull. Dallas saw a blur as Sam stepped out in front of her and held up his scissors. There was a squelching noise, and the zombie gagged and slumped over, hitting the floor hard.
"Come on guys," Sam said, "let's go."
It didn’t take him long to hot wire the hearse. Fortunately, the car had no dead bodies, which gave Dallas not only a sense of peace, but plenty of space for everyone to stretch their legs.
Talia was jumpy. At the slightest noise — a loud sigh, a dropped tool, even a gust of wind — she gasped and slid into Pierce.
“It’s okay, Tally,” Dallas said. “There are no zombies around here.”
Tally nodded, but didn’t look anymore at ease. When Pierce’s cell phone started to shriek again, she looked like she might vomit.
Pierce quickly switched the ringer to silent. “It’s my dad,” he said. “He called earlier, but I didn’t think he’d call back…”
“He’s probably worried about you,” Talia said. “You should talk to him.”
“I can pull over if you want,” Sam said. “I don’t think we’re going to get chased again for awhile.” The zombie he had stabbed in the church twenty minutes earlier was the last one they had seen.
Out of the corner of her eye, Dallas saw Pierce roll his eyes, but he agreed. Sam slowed the car down and Pierce stepped outside with the phone. He shut the door so they couldn’t hear his conversation. Dallas was sweating in less than a minute with the air conditioner off, but didn’t dare open the door back up. She didn’t know much about the rocky relationship between Pierce and his dad, but didn’t want to pry. The conversation lasted less than ten minutes before Pierce got back in the car, and they were off.
16-year-old pop songstress Tatum Jones has been confirmed dead. The singer went missing after a mysterious attack at the New Orleans House of Blues Friday night, where she performed earlier that evening. Her body was found in a dressing room late this morning. An official autopsy report will not be available for several weeks, but Jones’s body shows symptoms of the mysterious virus that has spread through the region over the past 72 hours.
They reached an exit twenty minutes later. The roads were completely clear, and Sam needed nothing more than a nod from Dallas to take it. Less than five minutes later, they arrived in a small town.
The day before Hurricane Katrina made landfall, Dallas, Talia, and their parents had left their Baton Rouge home and evacuated to a small town in Mississippi. The post-Katrina Mississippi was eerily similar to the post-zombie one: There were few cars on the road, and many of the buildings were either bustling or completely dark. The gas station lines stretched across the buildings’ various parking lots.
Sam drove down the main road at a snail’s pace. In a grocery store parking lot, Dallas saw two policemen attempting to subdue a twenty-something man wearing sagging pants and yellow boxers. “I hope the cops know what they’re doing,” Dallas said. “Otherwise, we’re all in trouble.”
“What, like we aren’t already?” Talia said.
“Well, more than we already are.”
They drove by a drugstore with only one car in the parking lot. “Sam, park here,” Dallas said. “We should go in.”
“Are you sure it’s open? It doesn’t look like there’s anyone in there.”
“Their lights are on. Come on, let’s go and at least see.”
They were “greeted” at the door by an employee straightening shirts; the girl, who couldn’t have been much older than them, raised an eyebrow but said nothing. They must have looked pretty rag tag. Dallas hadn’t showered in two days and her hair, perfectly flat ironed Friday morning, was now pulled back into a messy ponytail, several loose strands hanging down in front of her face. Her shirt still had remnants of dried blood across the front from the pizza cutter. Maybe they could find a hotel with running water to freshen up; it seemed like most of this town had electricity.
Dallas took a red basket from a stand by the register. “Everyone spread out,” she said. “But not yet! I made copies of our shopping list and divided the stuff up. Tally, you and Pierce need to get knives, Advil, and caffeine pills.”
“You copied our shopping list?” Pierce said, but took the crumpled piece of paper in his hand.
“Sam, you and me will get food and more bottled water,” Dallas said. “There’s got to be something to eat around here, even if it’s just that junk food you keep trying to get.”
Pierce looked toward the pharmacy counter. “I wonder if I could get my meds here,” he said.
“Hmmm?” Dallas said without looking up.
“Lithium. I don’t have any with me and I’m definitely going to need it.”
“Don’t you have to have a prescription?”
“Yeah...wonder if I could talk that girl behind the counter into giving me some anyway.”
“Whatever works, I guess.” She wasn’t an advocate of stealing, but had bordered on it far too much in the past forty-eight hours to say much. In fact, she had already done it. Besides, she would much rather have Pierce get his medication dishonestly than go without it and suffer a repeat of the incident in the van.
There wasn’t much in the way of substantial food, but Dallas did find a few bags of candy and plenty of soft drinks. Sam had left her side to assist Pierce in flirting his way into getting prescription medication. She remembered two nights ago at the House of Blues when Sam failed to get them alcoholic drinks. She hoped for Pierce’s sake, as well as everyone else’s, that this turned out differently.
The lights flickered for a second, then went out. The pharmacy tech frowned, and a gray haired woman, the only other customer in the store, shouted “Oh my!” Dallas figured the store would have a backup generator and the lights would come back on momentarily. But they didn’t.
She
approached the register and a young cashier promptly said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t ring you up right now. The registers are down.”
Dallas lifted her arm and held up the heavy basket. “Can’t we just take this stuff?” she asked.
The cashier laughed. “Are you crazy? I’d lose my job if I let you do that.”
Pierce sauntered up to them, a white paper bag in his hand and a smug look on his face. Just her luck she’d get the one cashier in the store who wouldn’t let them get away with anything. A few days from now, there might not even be anything to get away with.
“So what should we do?” Dallas said. “Just sit around and twiddle our thumbs and wait for the power to come back on?”
“Dallas?” Pierce touched her arm, nudging her aside gently. “You know, this beautiful young woman has probably had a rough day. Maybe we should go easy on her?”
“Oh come on, Pierce. You’re not going to sweet talk her into giving us stuff.” Once the words came out of her mouth, she regretted them. Pierce scowled, and she knew he was internally fuming.
“The power will come back on,” the cashier said. “It always does.”
“What if it doesn’t?” Dallas responded.
“It will.”
“But what if it doesn’t? Or what if it takes several hours? I’m not staying around and waiting for that.”
“Why not? No place else to go.”
“We’re actually on our way somewhere right now,” Pierce said. “I won’t stay here, and neither should you. It’s not safe.”
The cashier scoffed. “Go wherever you like, but I’m staying right here and so is that stuff. Unless you want to give me exact change for it.”
Pierce muttered a string of obscenities under his breath and slammed his fist on the counter. “Dammit, we’re taking our stuff!” He grabbed a handful of candy bars from the register display. “We’re taking these too.” He reached in his pocket and threw down a twenty dollar bill. “Keep the change. Come on guys, let’s go.”
State of Emergency Page 8
