Only the Light We Make (Tales from the world of Adrian's Undead Diary Book 3)

by James Dean

  They’d been cramped inside of Hank’s hunting cabin for almost five months since the attempted bank robbery. Both were unkempt in appearance. They’d ate fish, squirrels, grass and hit-or-miss mushrooms to sustain themselves. They still wore the same clothes from that day and occasionally washed them in the lake. Miles was utterly depressed that his appearance and body odor matched that of his companion. Hank didn’t seem to notice or care.

  The days were becoming colder and shorter, and the two had been troubled with a lack of ideas on how to survive the winter. Miles argued that they should migrate south along the seacoast before it was too late, but Hank had made other plans.

  “So whaddya fuckin’ think, shithead?” Hank asked.

  “I think you should just leave whoever is over there alone,” Miles replied rather sternly.

  “As far as I can see, there’s only one fuckah living there. He takes off on his four-wheelah during the day, so we can sneak in there and see what he’s got. Wait for him to come back and kill him,” Hank stated as he took the last swig of his whiskey.

  Miles face turned white. “Kill him?”

  “Sure. Why not? You scared?” Hank teased with an ominous voice.

  Miles shook his head in disgust.

  “Look Dorothy, this ain’t fuckin Kansas no more. He got that whole school to himself. It’s probably got a freezer and rooms with tons of food in them. You want to live or die?” he asked taking another empty shot of whiskey from the bottle.

  “I’m not a murderer. Neither are you,” Miles responded.

  “I’ve killed. You saw me do it didn’t ya? Back at the bank?”

  Miles adjusted his thick glasses and stared intently into the fire. The small logs crackled and split while the grey smoke annoyingly drifted into his eyes. “Those were dead people. This guy is alive, Hank. There’s a difference.”

  Hank smirked. He stuffed the whiskey bottle into the wide pocket on his flannel and pulled his .38 from off the ground and stroked the barrel lovingly. “I’ll do it. I’ll kill him.”

  Miles groaned and rubbed his temples. “Why don’t we at least talk to him? Why do you have to kill him?”

  “You think he’s just gonna let a couple of fuckahs like us move right in? Fuck no he won’t. He’d just as soon kill us before we got to say howdy doody to him,” Hank shot back.

  “Then we’ll leave him a message and set up a meeting. That way he doesn’t get spooked,” Miles reasoned.

  Hank aimed the gun up at the moon and pretended to pull the trigger. “Nah. I’m gonna walk around the lake tomorrow and get him. You can come or you can stay. I don’t give a fuck.”

  “I can’t, Hank. I won’t play any part in murder. End of the world or not. I guess I’ll go my own way after tonight,” Miles said, his voice shaking.

  Hank leveled his unblinking stare at his friend and squinted his eyes menacingly. “How do I know you ain’t gonna warn him I’m coming?”

  The small man gulped. “I’m just going to find the road and head south, Hank. Whether you kill him, or he kills you, will be none of my business.”

  Hank stood up slowly and looked down at his friend with dead eyes. “You don’t think I can kill him?”

  “I don’t think you should, that’s what I think," Miles replied as he gradually raised his arms up.

  “You think I’m a little bitch, huh? I don’t have the stomach to take a man’s life?” Hank said through gritted teeth as he aimed the pistol at Miles.

  Miles stood up. “Hank… I’ve known you for years. I’ve always thought you were a very- “

  BANG!

  Miles body dropped to the ground with a loud thud.

  “You thought I was a fucking what?” Hank screamed at his dead friend. “A sissy? A fuckin’ sally? “What did you think I was MILES, HUH?!” he screamed.

  Hank stuffed the gun into his pants and slapped himself in the face. He then walked to his dead friend’s body and stood over it for a long time before speaking. “Well… your ass is dead now ain’t it?” He kicked the body in the stomach. “Your ass is dead and I’m a killah. I CAN kill a man, Miles. You see that now don’t you?” He kicked Miles' face. “Now, I’m gonna kill another man and take his shit.” He said as he kicked the face once more. “I’m gonna eat Miles! You’re gonna rot!” He kicked the face yet again, but this time his leg was caught and his dead friend Miles--seemingly alive--bit into Hank’s ankle just above his boot. Hank screamed and shot his friend again, this time in the head.

  “Oh, you fucker! Oh, you got me didn’t you? That’s okay fuckah. I gotta nice little med kit. Ankle wound ain’t gonna kill me you fuckin’ peckah head.” Hank hobbled into his cabin and grabbed his first-aid kit off a shelf. He ripped at his beard and yelled in agony as he doused the wound with rubbing alcohol and bandaged it up. He then drank the remaining sip of whiskey and passed out.

  The next morning, Hank stepped out of the cabin and saw his dead friend on the ground. Blood stained the soil around his head and chest. The coals of the fire still glowed hot. Hank picked up a few sticks and tossed them into the embers and watched as they burst into flame and white smoke drifted carelessly into the brisk wind. He limped to stand over the corpse of his dead friend and chuckled.

  “You can have this place, buddy. I’m moving, but I’ll be back to get my guns. So watch the place for me.” The big man laced up his boots, took a piss in the fire and checked his gun for bullets. Then he was off.

  The trip to the school took several hours and each minute became more and more tiresome to the redneck. The pain in his ankle throbbed like nothing he’d ever felt before. His skin felt like it was on fire and his vision became blurry as his sweat rushed to escape his diabolical heat. By the time he got to the edge of the school grounds near the bridge, he’d lost any motivation he had. He stumbled into the biggest building he saw with an open window. His vision blurred further and his legs resisted his mind’s command to move forward. He could see outlines of industrial things, like a stove, a steel counter, hanging pots and pans. He knew then he’d made it into big kitchen. He drifted into a door and opened it. When he stepped inside he could see the remains of frozen goods. For a moment he was thrilled. He’d found the food! Though as he crept deeper into the dark freezer his vision began to fade and he heard the door snap shut behind him and all was pitch black. He fell to his knees in the corner and adjusted himself to lean with his back against the wall.

  Within minutes, he lost consciousness.

  An hour later, he was dead.

  Another hour later, he was undead, but as time would reveal, he would get his chance to try and kill the man who called Auburn Lake Preparatory Academy his home, but that’s another story.

  ABOUT JOE TREMBLAY

  Joe Tremblay (1977-) Born in Concord, New Hampshire, is the author of Subject 15 and lead singer in the band Triggerfist. Joe spent 6 years in the Navy as an Electronics Technician and 3 years in Film School in Las Vegas. He is an independent film-maker, Environmentalist, Story-Teller, Football Fanatic, Marketing-maniac, D&D game master and player, Believer in dreams, Avid Coffee Drinker, Life-long Student, and Conan the Barbarian in training.

  Visit his website at: http://www.thejoetremblay.com/

  The Shadow

  Shannon Walters

  “It's LINDY, not Lin-SEEEE!!!!” I woke up screaming that. Like, literally…screaming. It’s the end of the world as we know it and I’m quantum-leap dreaming back to grade school. I always got annoyed that people could not understand my name was not Lindsey. Thank you, Lindsey Lohan for making my name unpronounceable. I am sure she is a walking skank-zombie somewhere now. This thought pleases me, so I lay there fantasizing about smashing her skank-zombie head in with the pipe wrench I carry now.

  SCREEEEEEEEEEEE

  Like fingernails on a chalk board….or in this case, fingernails on a garage door--whatever--that sound was, it means they’ve found me again. This time I was hiding in a tool garage behind the cafeteria. There’s this odd little loft
thing inside the garage and I climbed up there to find a mattress, an empty box of tissue (the former occupants of said box are wadded up and tossed about the room, some shredded by the mice…SHUDDER! So gross), an extra-large bottle of hand lotion and a pretty huge pile of musty porn magazines. Although thoroughly grossed out, my exhaustion won that war and I scattered the pile of stuff away from the mattress and collapsed on it. I guess I was asleep pretty fast, can’t remember a thing.

  I had shut the door to the garage behind me but there was nothing to lock it with, and I wasn’t worried since zombies can’t open doors. A sliver of light appeared on the sawdust-covered floor highlighting the dust motes playing keep-away in the still air. I stayed low, peeking under the railing of the loft. It wasn’t the dead this time; a man entered holding a large gun and a flashlight. OH shit! I covered my mouth that was busily whispering prayers left over from the same grade-school days I had been revisiting in my dreams. He walked all the way in and swept around in an arc, the gun pointing the way. I couldn’t really see him as the sun was shining in through the door, making a halo of bright light around him, but he was definitely not a small guy. My stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. The man froze and looked around slowly, again with the gun.

  I hate being alone all the time but it seems pointless to count on anyone, like the guy who watched my family slaughtered from his rooftop perch, I’ll find that guy one day and feed him piece by piece to the zombies.

  I sat back against the wall quietly and hoped he wouldn’t come up here. He is clearly searching the garage, making way more noise than is advisable with the dead around. This idiot is going to get himself killed and I will have to find a new hiding place again. I closed my eyes and wished him away, thinking about the rooftop peeper who let me down.

  Aunt Charice and Uncle Tony had picked me up at the bus station. I had one bag with me filled with all I had left in the world. Everything else was left in the apartment I had shared with my mom. My mom hadn’t come home for a long time again. She had problems. Mostly with drugs. I try not to think about that too much because it just makes me sad. She was so pretty and smart but when she was high she didn’t even look like herself. There really wasn’t any food in the house and I didn’t always make it to class and eventually someone noticed and called the authorities. A woman just showed up one day. I wish I hadn’t answered the door, I guess I wasn’t thinking.

  She introduced herself as Jackie from Child Protective Services. She looked around our small apartment and at me and she had watery eyes like she was going to cry. I knew it wasn’t clean. I guess I could have done more but I spent my time reading instead of cleaning up. She asked me who else was in my family, if there was someone I could call on for help. I really didn’t have anyone else out so I told her about Aunt Charice. She was Mom's sister. I hadn’t seen her in a few years. We used to visit there and my cousin Maddie was mostly ok to hang with.

  Jackie took out her cell phone and insisted on calling her right away. I tried to explain that Mom would be back, she always comes back, but Jackie looked at me with those watery eyes and continued with her phone call. She walked a few steps away from me but I heard her. I heard her tell Aunt Charice that Mom was in real trouble this time--in jail-- and wouldn’t be able to care for me. I froze. My mom in jail? Could she be that bad?

  Jackie got off the phone and asked me to pack a bag. I went into my small bedroom and put my things in my school bag. I took my time, tried to get myself under control. My Moms in jail? I didn’t want to talk to that Jackie woman, didn’t want to talk about my life with a stranger, so I just silently got my stuff and waited by the door.

  “OK, well, you have everything you need?” She asked in a fake-cheery voice.

  I just nodded. Once in her car she tried to ask me questions but I shut her down with my silence. She kept at it though. Told me that my mom had been caught with drugs and also charged with prostitution. I tried not to react to that comment but some sneaky tears found their way onto my cheeks. I tried like Hell not to sniffle but my nose was running and I didn’t have a tissue. I turned toward the window and ignored her as she used her free hand to squeeze and pat my arm. I was glad to be rid of her after she practically held my hand right until I got on the bus.

  The bus trip was a blur and the next thing I knew I was wrapped in Aunt Charice’s arms. I couldn’t bring myself to hug her back. Where the hell was she these last few years. Clearly mom needed her! She babbled about how great it would be for me to stay with them and how excited she was because she was picking up my cousin for a weekend visit at home. Cousin Maddie attended a private school out in the country. A rich kids school. Must be nice.

  Uncle Tony tried to look happy to see me but he couldn’t quite hide the cranky look on his face. He clearly wasn’t happy to have me in his care. That kinda hurt. So I spent two hours in the car listening to them chatting about how great my cousin was. Then Uncle Tony’s phone rang and he answered it using his fancy Bluetooth car speakers. The guy on the other end sounded terrified right from hello. He started talking about how people were going crazy attacking and biting when Uncle Tony grabbed his phone off the dash, punched some buttons and the speakers went silent. I saw him glance in the rear view mirror and then swerve as he almost hit a guy walking in the middle of the road. I wacked my head on the window and Aunt Charice yelped as she hit hers too.

  “Shit. Sorry,” Uncle tony muttered and then went back to his phone. After a minute he took it away from his face, hit some buttons and then practically threw it at my aunt. “Something's going on, Roger isn’t the joking kind. There’s some sort of virus, or flu, or rabies thing going around. Good thing we were going to Maddie anyway.” He drove faster. Aunt Charice asked a million questions he couldn’t seem to answer and tried to reach someone on her cell. I just sat in the back and rubbed my sore head, kinda feeling sorry for myself.

  When we finally reached the school it was pretty evident that something was happening. There were a ton of cars, parked all crazy and people were everywhere. Everyone looked mad or scared. Uncle Tony came screeching into the parking lot and parked sideways across the grass.

  “Wait here. I’ll go sign Maddie out.”

  “Ok, just please hurry, I want to get out of here as quick as possible, everything feels wrong, like we need to hurry,” Aunt Charice pleaded in a whiny voice.

  I sat back and took it all in. Parents running hand in hand with their kids, practically throwing them into cars and peeling out. I watched two cars smash into each other right at the entrance. One kept going. Aunt Charice just kept muttering under her breath, “Jesus Christ”. It was late afternoon and the shadows were getting long and I kept thinking I was seeing things that just couldn’t be. I swear some guy in a baseball hat bit the lady he was with. She was definitely bleeding…and screaming. Then my aunt was hyperventilating and cursing. Huh.

  Another car crashed in the driveway and I heard another scream. Now people were really running. It got weirder by the minute. Still no sign of Uncle Tony and cousin Maddie. I craned my neck to look behind me and saw a boy about my age pulled down to the ground by an older man who was covered in blood and he…he bit him. There was no mistaking it. He kept at it while the boy screamed. I sucked in my breath and Aunt Charice turned and saw what I saw and now she really went nuts. Crying and saying, “Tony, oh my God, Maddie…” over and over. I thought about getting out and trying to help but I had seen my share of horror movies and I just knew this wasn’t going to end well. The more I looked, the more I saw bloody and crazed people. Some of them bounced off the car and Aunt Charice let out a scream each time.

  I looked around, out each window, trying to spot Uncle Tony. I didn’t see him but I did see something odd. A guy on the roof of one of the buildings. Just…watching. Weirdo. Then right in front of us a lady was tackled and bit. Her screams were horrible and I kinda wanted Aunt Charice to start the car and run her and the kid that was biting her over, just to make it stop. I know that’s terribl
e. But watching it all happen with a front row seat like this was worse. I felt helpless and scared. So scared that it hurt to breathe.

  Aunt Charice turned to me and said, “I’m going to go find them Lindy, I can't wait here anymore. You stay here.” Before I could answer her--tell her she said my name right--she was opening the door.

  She didn’t get far before she was attacked by one of the crazies. She got bit on the arm and yanked to the ground but she got up and tried running back to the car. She had a hand on the handle and I was leaning over the seat to help her in when one of them got to her neck. A splash of crimson coated the window blocking my view. I climbed over the seat and opened the door, it didn’t get far because Aunt Charice was crumpled on the ground only a foot away basically being eaten by a man dressed in a suit. She was a goner. I threw up and pulled my head back in and closed the door. As I did, I caught a glimpse of the guy on the roof again. He was leaning forward, clearly looking this way. Asshole. Just sat up there and watched my aunt die. I crawled back into the rear of the car and curled up on the floor. I didn’t want to look anymore, didn’t want to hear any more of the screams; my heart was beating fast and hard and I was covered in sweat and barf. If I craned my neck I could still see roof-guy. I hoped he would roll off and get chewed up. Thanks for the help, bro. UGH.

  I don’t know how much time passed as I sat there listening to muted screams and the occasional crash of glass and screech of tires. I may have dozed off with my fingers jammed into my ears as far as they would go. It was full dark then. There were lights on across the campus and I didn’t see anyone now. It was…quiet. Guess Uncle Tony wasn’t coming back. I had to pee really badly but I was too scared to move yet. I just sat and watched. I saw some shadows moving here and there but no actual people. I needed to have a plan but I felt so exhausted it was all I could do not to just close my eyes and forget this whole day. Worst day ever.