by James Dean
Kyle had examined the picture for some time while Saul had disappeared. There wasn’t much of anything else to see in the mostly empty house.
“Who is that woman and kid? Are they your family?” Kyle asked.
“None of your concern.”
Kyle decided it was best not to pursue the picture. He walked over to Butterscotch and tugged on her leash. “Come on, Butter,” Kyle ordered.
“I do not think it is best to bring your pet,” Saul suggested.
“I have to bring Butter. She…she may be the only family I have left.” Kyle did his best to not cry.
Saul considered a moment, and then nodded. “Okay. But she is your responsibility. She is old. If she barks and draws the dead upon us, I will deal with her.”
The coldness in Saul’s voice was like a slap in the face to Kyle. He knew Saul would kill Butterscotch if she endangered them. Kyle nodded, passively. They exited Saul’s house and got into his truck. In moments, they were sputtering out of the neighborhood.
*****
June 24th 1:20 PM
The truck rang like a dinner bell for the undead. On every road, the zombies heard the old truck and come toward it. This made it difficult to stop. The roads were also congested with unmoving cars, debris, and the occasional dead body that suffered from some sort of trauma to the brain.
Eventually, Saul stopped. They were near the center of town. Across from the intersection where they sat was City Hall and the Police Station. Hundreds of zombies of every make were moving through the streets. There was no sign of life anywhere.
Kyle jumped as a wet hand slapped the window on the passenger side of the truck. A black goo remained as the hand slid down and out of view. A male zombie tried to bite the window. The lips of the man had been torn off, revealing grey gums and broken teeth. A chunk of hair and skin were wedged between its molars and what was left of its cheek. Butterscotch began to whimper and Kyle, frightened, raised his pistol.
“Put that away, child!” Saul ordered.
“But—”
“Put that away now!” he repeated.
Kyle submitted and lowered the gun. He was surprised that Saul had little interest in the revolver. He was sure that he would have tried to take it from him.
“There are no police here,” Saul said, disappointed. “We must go.”
“Where?” Kyle asked.
Saul considered a moment. “I know of a place. It is out of town and I do not think other people have been there in some time. It should be safe.” Saul pulled the truck down a side road, smacking a couple zombies during the turn.
“If no one has been there in a long time, how do you know about it?” Kyle asked as they drove slowly down the road. Hitting the undead was unavoidable, but Saul kept his speed low to minimize the damage done to the F 150.
Saul was silent for a few minutes, deciding if he wanted to answer or not. “I like the peacefulness of the woods. Walking through the trees lets me clear my mind. One day, I came across an abandoned cabin. I go there now and then.”
“Is it far?” Kyle asked, cringing as the truck hit a trio of zombies.
“More or less,” Saul responded. “We need to get a few things first.”
“Like what?”
“Things!” Saul replied, annoyed at the questions.
Kyle shrunk down in his seat and hugged Butterscotch.
*****
June 24th 3:34 PM
They passed a small group of survivors as they drove. A group of people had been looting a small convenience store, but were being overrun by a couple hundred zombies. When Kyle asked why they didn't help, Saul simply stayed silent and avoided the main roads where the majority of the zombies seemed to be. Soon, he stopped the truck at a short strip mall.
“Why are we here?” Kyle asked.
“I need to get some things before we go into the woods,” Saul answered.
Only two of the four slots in the strip mall were in use. The other two was empty with 'For Lease' signs in the windows. The first business was a chain accounting office and the other was a pawn shop. There was a small gas station across the street with an attached mechanic shop. A half dozen zombies wandered between cars, but had yet to be attracted to their truck.
“Shouldn’t we go to a place with food?” Kyle asked, staring at the gas station.
"No. Those are all empty by now or overrun by the dead. There is plenty of food in the woods. The cabin is near a river and lake.” Saul strapped on the harness that held the fireplace poker.
Kyle scrunched his brow and turned. “Shouldn’t we have back up food, just in case?”
“I have some,” Saul sighed. “Not much, but it will do. Where I come from, I gathered food for my family and village. We will be fine.” Saul tightened the strap and grabbed the machete near the floorboard. “We go. Move fast. Do not stop,” he ordered Kyle.
Kyle nodded. He grabbed Butterscotch’s leash with one hand, and hefted the pistol with the other.
Saul glared at him disapprovingly. “You may carry it. But do not use it unless…unless you have no other choice. It will draw more of them. Of that, I am sure.”
Kyle nodded again, happy that Saul allowed him to keep the pistol. The teenager still wore his backpack. If a zombie jumped on him, it would have to eat through the bag first. At least that was his line of thinking. Saul, Kyle and Butterscotch exited the truck. It was parked ten feet away from the entrance to the pawn shop, and the closest zombie was over a hundred feet away.
Saul sheathed his machete and reached into the bed of his truck. Kyle heard a clanking noise as Saul retrieved a long, steel crowbar. “Keep your eyes open, child,” Saul whispered as the trio moved to the front of the pawn shop.
Though he was sure it was locked, Saul tested the front door. His single eye went wide in surprise when the glass door opened. After that, however, was a barred door, similar to a prison cell. The same bars lined the inside of the glass. Unfortunately, that door was locked. Kyle and Butterscotch sat a foot away while the big man worked, watching the street intensely.
Saul wedged the crowbar between the door lock and put all of his weight to it. Shimmying back and forth, he created a gap and was able to push to door open.
“Come,” he whispered, and they snuck into the pawn shop.
*****
June 24th 4:52 PM
For over an hour, Saul moved through the store, collecting various tools and equipment he thought would be useful and piling them by the front door. There were shovels, guns, ammunition, knives, flashlights, some camping gear, lanterns and more. All the while, Kyle glanced at the items displayed for sale. He didn’t feel comfortable taking anything. To him, it was still stealing.
“Is this right?” He asked Saul.
“Is what right?” Saul responded as he dropped a sleeping bag to the floor.
“Taking this stuff. Seems wrong,” Kyle said in a quiet voice.
Saul stopped and knelt in front of the teenager. Kyle restrained a flinch as Saul’s marred face came close to his. “Child, you need to understand. This world is gone. The only thing anyone owns for certain is their life. We must do what we must do,” Saul sighed, and stood back up.
Kyle grimaced, but nodded. He didn’t totally understand, but Saul appeared to have more knowledge about what was going on than he did.
“You must help me load the truck. Put your gun away,” Saul ordered.
Kyle complied, shoving the revolver into his pocket. Saul used ropes and straps to wrap up much of the gear into manageable bundles for them to carry. Some were small and light, obviously meant for Kyle, while the others were heavier and bigger.
Saul guessed it would be three or four trips from the pawn shop to the truck. Even if zombies were to come their way, they should have enough time to finish loading and leave. They moved quickly and by the second trip, Saul told Kyle to stay in the back of the truck and help move things around. Butterscotch was still by the door of the shop, laying down.
Saul g
rabbed another large bundle of gear and turned around. The sun was beginning its dip in the sky and long shadows started to form. Three shadows in particular caught Saul’s attention. They were silhouettes of humans slowly approaching the F 150.
“Where did they come from…” Saul spat as he dropped the bundle to the ground. He decided not to call out to Kyle, fearing a loud noise would draw more zombies to the area. Instead, he drew his machete and bolted out of the front door. Just left of the entrance were three zombies. They moved silently, with only the light sound of shuffling feet betraying their presence. They were all male, wearing nametags that suggested they worked for a garage. One was missing its throat, another’s shirt was bloodied and torn, and the third was missing both of its arms.
“Get back inside!” Saul hissed as he stood between the truck and the three zombies. Kyle turned and yelped at the sight of the three monsters approaching.
Saul did not hesitate and charged the approaching zombies. He kicked the throatless one in the chest, sending it to its back. The one with the torn, bloody shirt dove in for a bite of Saul’s shoulder and was met with the iron poker jammed under its chin. It punctured through the top of its skull. The zombie fell to the ground, partially dragging Saul down with it.
Kyle turned to jump out of the opposite side of the truck, only to be met with two more zombies. More were behind them. He didn’t understand where they were coming from. Instead of jumping out of the truck, Kyle climbed on the roof of the cab and pulled out his revolver.
Saul left the amputated zombie for last. It was the least threat to him. It came in toward Saul, teeth chomping fervently. Saul flipped and reversed the machete as he yanked the poker free. With one hard stab, he jammed the machete into the zombie’s eye. The brute strength of the native African cracked bone as the flat blade went deep into the zombie’s head. Saul released the machete as the zombie fell and dove at the throat-less zombie, who was trying to stand. His foot landed on the zombie’s chest, and was soon followed by the iron poker, which dug deep into the dead’s eye socket. The three zombies had been eliminated in less than ten seconds. But those ten seconds had been long enough for the truck to be almost completely surrounded by the dead.
Over thirty zombies were near the pawn shop now, ten of them reaching up toward the cab at Kyle. Others were seconds away.
Kyle--virtually surrounded--stood on the cab, attempting to stay out of reach of the many zombie hands grabbing toward him.
Saul bent down and yanked the machete free of the dead zombie and raced back to the truck.
Kyle was in danger and Butterscotch knew it. The ferocious sound of Butterscotch’s bark filled the air as she struggled to stand. The zombies, indifferent to the canine, ignored her. The opportunity to feast and turn another human was far more precedent to the dead.
She moved as fast as her ancient body would allow toward the gaggle of zombies surrounding the truck.
Saul dove in, jabbing one zombie in the back of the head with the poker, then flinging the dead body into another one of the undead. More were coming though, and one had even climbed up on the hood of the truck.
Butterscotch--maneuvering on the opposite side of the truck from Saul--grabbed the ankle of a female zombie. The dead woman made no moves to attack the dog, however. She continued forward, pressing against the F 150. Butterscotch pulled back, throwing the zombie off balance, and it collapsed to the ground. The canine moved to another zombie, tearing at its calf, ripping dark flesh from the monster.
Saul swung the machete in a terrifying arc, hacking the head off of the zombie that had crawled onto the hood of the truck. “Come child!” he barked, and wrapped his massive arm around Kyle’s waist. With one heave, he yanked Kyle off of the cab and lowered him to the ground.
Kyle heard Butterscotch growling and barking, but could not see the Golden Retriever. “Where’s Butter?” he screamed.
“Do not worry. Get inside the store!” Saul ordered and he drove the iron poker into the forehead of another zombie. He turned and kicked the knee of another zombie, reversing the joint. The zombie crumpled to the ground.
Kyle hesitated, but complied. He ran toward the open door of the shop while Saul backpedaled and removed the head of a zombie. Kyle made it to the safety of the shop while the zombies all turned their attention to Saul.
Butterscotch wasn't finished though. Her motherly instincts to protect Kyle overshadowed her crippling body. She dove in again, taking another zombie down. Saul reached the doorway and kicked the closest zombie in the chest, sending him back into a trio of others.
“Butter!” Kyle screamed, but the canine ignored him. She had to keep the bad things from hurting Kyle. Butterscotch grabbed the hand of another zombie, pulling it down to the ground.
Finally, as if some unknown force had opened the zombies’ eyes, Butterscotch was seen as a threat.
In unison, every zombie present stopped and turned their heads toward the Golden Retriever. Their bodies soon followed as dozens of zombies surrounded the elderly canine.
“No!” Kyle screamed, but Saul had shut the door to the shop. “Open the door!”
“Child!” Saul hissed. “It is too late.” Saul, without saying another word, dropped the machete and embraced Kyle as the teenager fought to reach the entrance.
As if on cue, Butterscotch yelped in pain. It was agonizing to hear, even for Saul. Kyle buried his head into Saul’s shoulder and beat on his back with his small fists.
Saul turned back and stared out into the parking lot. The small horde of zombies looked like a pack of hyenas fighting for the meat of a recent kill. Butterscotch’s whines of pain abruptly ended, but the feeding frenzy did not.
Saul picked up the sobbing teenager and carried him to the back of the store.
*****
June 24th 6:35 PM
The zombies gathered near the entrance of the pawn shop, but they seemingly had forgotten why they were there. None tried to get into the store, though a couple stood mere feet away from the doorway.
“Why did she go out there?” Kyle said, still upset. His tears were gone, but his lip still quivered as he spoke.
“To save you, child,” Saul replied. “You were in danger. She died protecting you.”
“She’s dead because of me?” Kyle said, new tears forming.
“You cannot look at it like that, child. You did not create these monsters. She did what she had to do to protect you from them. She was very brave. You should honor that, not feel guilt for it.”
Kyle grimaced.
“The light will be gone soon,” Saul continued, changing the subject. “We will wait until morning. Maybe then the dead will have moved on.”
Kyle didn’t respond and sat in silence for a few minutes. The two sat towards the back of the store, well out of view of the entrance. Saul stood to check on the front door and sighed as he saw a zombie standing nearby, swaying back and forth. Kyle pulled his backpack off and dug inside. He produced the binder that he had grabbed from his mother’s bedroom. The light was dim, but still well enough for him to read its contents.
Saul sat back down as Kyle turned one of the laminated pages.
Kyle grinned as he read.
“What is that?” Saul asked.
Kyle glanced up at Saul and then back at the page. “Letters from my father.”
Saul looked questionably at Kyle. “I have never met your father, or seen him at your home for that matter.”
“You wouldn’t have,” Kyle said sadly. “He died when I was two. But when he was in hospice, he—”
“What is hospice?” Saul asked.
“Hospice is where people go if they are going to die soon. My dad had a rare form of cancer. My mom said it came quick and he was only in hospice for a few days. While there, though, he wrote me letters. One for each birthday after I turned ten years old. One letter a birthday until I turn eighteen.”
Saul nodded in understanding.
“I don’t see a reason not to read the rest of
the letters. I mean, who knows if I’m going to live to be eighteen—”
“You should not talk like that,” Saul said irritably. “You are still alive.”
“Yes, but, still. I want to read them,” Kyle stated as he continued to read.
“What do they say?” Saul asked.
“Mainly just how I need to look after mom. And to make sure I stay honest and true to myself. Stuff like that. He wanted me to be a good man.”
Saul was silent a moment. There was something different about this child. “I think you will be a good man.”
“Thank you Saul,” Kyle said as he closed the book. Tears were welling again in his eyes, but he suppressed crying. The letters made him sad, yet happy at the same time.
The sun continued to fall until night overtook them.
*****
June 24th 9:20 PM
“Can I ask you a question, Saul?” Kyle asked as he rolled over on the floor. They had grabbed sleeping bags and made a small nest next behind the register.
“What is that, child?” Saul answered. He was on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Kyle rested his elbow on the floor. “How old are you?”
“Fifty-one,” Saul replied.
Kyle was silent a moment. He was building up the nerve for his next question. “Saul?”
Saul was becoming irritated. “Yes?”
“W-What happened to you?” Kyle stammered. “I mean, you know, like your arm…and your scars.”
Saul grimaced. He really did not want to recount that tale.
After a moment of silence, Kyle continued to pester him. “Was it a lion like everyone in the neighborhood says?”
“A lion?” Saul said in surprise. “Is that what they say?”
