Tales of Terror from Survivors (Zombie Apocalypse #3.5)

by Hoffman, Samantha

  She gave both of her boys one final hug before getting to her feet. Without another look at them lying peacefully on the floor in their cartoon pajamas, tucked in and looking serene, she headed for the front door, pausing with her hand on the knob. This is it, she thought. This is the last time I’ll ever set foot in the home Chris and I made together, the home our sons took their first steps in, the home we shaped our future in…

  With a deep breath, Carla turned the doorknob and stepped out into the early morning light. A quick glance down the street showed only two of the nasty undead, and she quickly shut the door behind her. She couldn’t bear the thought of letting one of those things inside where her two boys would be resting peacefully forever.

  The sound the door made as it shut got their attention, and they started towards her. She watched them approach on unsteady, swaying feet, stumbling towards her with only one purpose. She couldn’t bring herself to just wait around on her front porch for them to come to her, so she climbed down the steps and took a left, leaving her house and the two undead behind her. Soon, their moans quieted and she could no longer hear their movements.

  The street was abandoned; she hadn’t heard any sound aside from moaning for two days. She must have been the last of her neighbors still alive, and the thought reaffirmed her decision to end the suffering of her boys. If these grown adults with real experience in the world couldn’t survive, then what chance had they had? They were now safe from any harm, and that knowledge brought a sense of peace to Carla as she walked down the street.

  She wiped tears from her face with the back of her hand, stumbling on the curb and wandering in to the street. She wasn’t sure where she was going or what she was going to do when she got there, but she couldn’t bring herself to stay on this street, not when there were so many wonderful memories that all haunted her now.

  She saw the cracked section of sidewalk her son had first ridden his bike on without help. In the neighbor’s yard stood a deflated kiddy pool with green water that they had played in with her friend’s daughter—both of who she was sure were long dead by now. The house at the end of the street belonged to the older woman that babysat her boys while she and Chris were at work, often baking extra chocolate chip cookies for them to take home if they were good.

  Which they always were, Carla thought, almost smiling.

  Carla continued to walk, her footsteps the only sound in the area. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do next, but she couldn’t bring herself to stay in that house or even on this street anymore. She knew she wanted to join her children, but she needed some fresh air to decide how she wanted to go about it. It didn’t feel right for her to taint her children’s resting place with the evils of her choices, but she wasn’t entirely sure what other options were open to her.

  As she reached the end of the street and turned, she found herself face to face with four of the undead. A small gasp escaped her lips, and one looked up at her, the bloody remnants of a neighbor hanging from its mouth as it chewed. They dropped to the ground with a wet plop, and the others looked up at her, craning their heads and staring at her with cloudy eyes. She felt her heart begin to race as she took a slow step back, unsure of what to do.

  Do I run, or do I accept my fate? Is this my way out?

  The thought stopped her in her tracks. She was shaking in her sneakers and she wanted nothing more than to turn around and run in the opposite direction, but she forced herself to remain rooted to the spot. She was so terrified she could barely think, but she knew this could be the out she was searching for, a way to just end it all with no chance that she could back out at the last second.

  This is it. I’ll be with Chris and the boys soon enough…

  One of the undead remained on its knees, feasting on the body in front of it, but the other three got to their feet. Their movements were jerky and far from coordinated, but she knew better than to ever underestimate them. She had seen them take down hundreds of people on the news, and by now, she was sure there were hundreds of thousands dead, if not even more. They didn’t look like they would be very capable predators, but she knew looks could be deceiving.

  Carla closed her eyes, unable to watch as they slowly approached. She stood in the middle of the street with her arms spread wide, waiting for the end. As she did, a surprising thought came to her. These creatures are evil. If I die by their hand, I’ll come back as one of them. Will I ever be able to join my family in Heaven?

  She already had her doubts considering the drastic action she had taken earlier this morning, but she believed God was merciful and understanding. Surely he would see what she had done was best for her children—a last ditch effort to spare them a fate worse than death. But would this be the final nail in the coffin? Would it be what sealed her fate and kept her from joining them in the afterlife? The thought of spending eternity in this real-life Hell without those she loved was enough to give her pause.

  She opened her eyes and found the undead nearly on top of her. Her heart slammed up into her throat and she turned on her heels, taking off like a shot down the street. She didn’t make it far before she stepped off the curb and twisted her ankle, going down hard on her knees on the road. She cried out as her knee and hands flared up in pain. Her palms were skinned from the fall, and her knee and ankle both throbbed painfully. She twisted around to look at her ankle, checking to make sure she hadn’t broken it, and found the undead closing in on her.

  Now that their prey was wounded, it seemed they were faster on their feet. Her heart pounded in her chest and her breathing was harsh and shallow as her mind raced. She forced herself to her feet, gritting her teeth against the pain that ached throughout her body. With her ankle and knee messed up, there was no way she was going to be able to outrun them for long—she couldn’t run at all! But she could hobble, and that’s what she did. She hobbled down the road, shuffling much like the undead herself in a desperate attempt to escape.

  Even though she knew her life would never be worth living without those she loved, she couldn’t bring herself to end her life this way. Not when the possible consequences were so high. She had to keep fighting, if only for the moment. She would find a way to join her family later, a way that didn’t involve being eaten alive by rotting corpses. There were a dozen ways she could do it; she would just have to steel herself and brave through it, not chickening out when she got scared.

  She made it halfway down the street when she felt her ankle give out on her. She collapsed against a car parked beside the curb, using the hood and the side mirror to prop herself up and stay on her feet. If she fell to the ground that would be it. She would never be able to get back up and it would be all over for her.

  She gasped for air, fear making her panicky and light headed. She didn’t have a weapon to fight them with, so she looked around for anything she might be able to use. Her eyes settled on a large rock in a neighbor’s yard, and she hobbled for it as the undead reached the back of the car. She scooped it up and gripped it as tightly as she could, leaving the more jagged edge exposed, hoping to bash in a skull or two if she could. She had never been in a fight in her life and she had certainly never bashed in a skull, but she would have to find the strength inside to do this if she wanted to stay alive.

  When she turned around and came face to face with the undead, she was surprised to find that she recognized one of them. Beneath the pale skin and the missing lips and nose, it was impossible not to recognize Aimee, the woman that had lived alone two houses down from Carla and Chris as long as they’d owned their home. She had never liked the woman, and had felt that she took a creepy amount of interest in her oldest son, Luis.

  Carla had never liked the way that woman looked at her son, and a surge of hatred rushed through her at the thought of those prying green eyes following his every move. She brought her arm back with a scream of anger. The rock came down on Aimee’s head with a crack that drove her to her knees in front of Carla. She slammed the rock into her head again and again,
her mind going blank as she reduced this disgusting thing to nothing in seconds. The ferocity of the blows surprised and scared her, but she didn’t stop. She kept raining down blows until Aimee was lying unmoving at her feet, her brains spread over the road like jell-o.

  Carla wobbled unsteadily on her feet but managed to stay upright as the second of the undead came after her. It lunged and she quickly stepped back, putting too much weight on her bad ankle. It crumpled beneath her, sending her down to the ground again. The undead was on top of her, reaching for her face with its dirty nails. Blood dripped from the fingertips, and she swatted the hand away with a cry of disgust. Without thinking, she brought the rock down hard on the undead man’s knee, shattering it.

  He fell to the ground in front of her and she swung her arm in a wide arc, connecting the rock solidly with his head. He toppled to the ground and she crawled over, bringing the rock down hard on his head with both hands, caving in his face until it looked like a deflated soccer ball. As she turned for the third undead, it was on top of her, gripping her shoulders and pulling her closer. Teeth gnashed together inches from her throat while she tried desperately to hold it at arm’s length. The rock slipped from her grasp and hit the ground with a thud before rolling out of her reach.

  She was weaponless and on her knees with a horrific monster bearing down on her. It wouldn’t be long before she was on her back with teeth deeply embedded in her throat, tearing the life from her. But she couldn’t give up. This was not the way she was going to go.

  Her arms were beginning to burn with the force of keeping the undead at bay, and she could feel them start to give out. As her arms began to tremble, a motorcycle roared into the street, probably gathering the attention of any of the undead still in the area. It slid to a stop beside her and she saw the end of a black gun. A shot rang out and the man trying to eat her face fell to the side, a giant hole blown into the side of his head.

  Blood covered her chest, and she looked down at herself with a grimace. Her ankle and knee hurt, her hands were skinned and burning, her lungs ached, and now she was covered in the blood of a monster. She could feel it sliding down her chest in clumps, and she resisted the urge to wipe it away. She wasn’t sure how bad her hands were, but she didn’t want to risk infecting herself by wiping her chest clean. She just quieted her breathing while trying to ignore the stench of rot and decay that filled her nose.

  The bike idled at the curb, and she glanced over to see who her savior was. Carla was sure she had never seen this man before—surely she would have remembered a man as large and impressive as him. He was half a foot taller than her, and she was nearly six feet herself! His shoulders were wide and he was barrel-chested, a real beast of a man that looked like the kind of man you didn’t want to cross.

  He wore a tattered denim vest with several patches sewn on, but she couldn’t get a close enough look at them to tell what they were. She doubted he was a boy scout or anything of that kind, and she was almost a little nervous to let him get closer to her as he got off his bike, kicking down the stand to prop it up. He took several confident, fast strides until he was beside her, and he knelt down to her level. His eyes were kind and his face was heavily bearded.

  “Are you okay?”

  Carla checked herself over for any bites or scratches, and when she realized that she had escaped her attack unscathed, she nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “My name is Carla.”

  He extended his hand and helped her to her feet when she took it. “The name is Bear.”

  She almost laughed when her mind went to cute little teddy bears, but realized it was probably more likely he was named after grizzly bears. In which case, he was not the kind of man to laugh at, even in good fun. Suddenly she was very nervous to be standing so close to this beast of a man and she felt herself hobble back a few steps. Bear watched her, a smile twisting his lips.

  “I assure you, you’ve got nothing to fear from me. I’m just a stranger passing through and thought I’d help if I could.”

  “It’s hard to trust anything these days, especially strangers,” Carla said, eyeing him with apprehension.

  “That is true,” he admitted. “But like I said, I’m just passing through. I’ll be on my way now.”

  “Where are you going? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around this neighborhood before.” She definitely would have remembered such a massive, imposing man.

  “I’m heading out of town,” he said. “Someplace with a smaller population. Fewer people means fewer zombies to deal with. It’s what all the smart people are doing. Those that stay in their homes trying to outlast the end of the world are just adding to the problem in the end,” he said, his voice surprisingly harsh.

  Carla flinched, and Bear picked up on it instantly. His gaze softened. “I didn’t mean anything by that, Lass. Honestly. Nothing more than a wounded man venting his frustration.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in shame as he turned his eyes downward, away from her accusing stare. “I take it you’ve lost someone recently.”

  “My husband and two children.”

  He nodded. “That’s a shame; I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Are you?” she asked, a sneer twisting her beautiful face.

  “If it makes you feel any better, my wife and step-daughter were taken from me in the beginning. All because I was one of those fools that believed staying in our homes was the right thing to do.”

  “Why would that make me feel better?” she asked.

  He shrugged his impossibly huge shoulders. “So you know you’re not alone, that there are others who had the same idea and suffered the same losses as you because of it. In case you were blaming yourself after what I said. I didn’t want you to think I was an asshole. There aren’t all that many good people in the world, and the good ones that are left should stick together.”

  She was silent for a moment and he seemed to be waiting for her to say something, anything. “I doubt you and I suffered the same losses,” she said quietly, her heart too heavy to be angry like she wanted. “My children weren’t taken from me, at least not by anyone other than myself.” Bear was silent, and Carla took it as a sign he was passing judgment on her. “You see. Your family was taken from you. I willingly gave mine up. I killed them and was planning on killing myself. I’m not a good person.”

  “You spared them a fate worse than death,” he said softly. “Something a part of me might wish I had been able to do for my girls. They suffered greatly at the hands of others before they died, something your children will never have to experience. You might not consider yourself a good person, but I would at the very least consider you a good mother.”

  Carla’s eyes burned as she listened to him speak. Before she knew it, she was on her knees, sobbing as she wrapped her arms tightly around herself. She was trying to stay in one piece but knew she was coming apart, shattering bit by bit. She could see Bear standing next to her, looking very uncomfortable at her display of emotions, like he was unsure if he should try to comfort her or just let her cry it all out by herself.

  He glanced up and down the street before looking back down at her, anxiety drawing harsh lines on his face. “Carla, the cities aren’t safe. I’m going someplace easier to survive, and I would like it if you came with me. There’s nothing for you here,” he said gently, his eyes bright and earnest. “I didn’t know your husband or children, but I doubt they would ever want you to give up, not as long as there was still a chance. If you can promise me you’ll keep fighting until the very end, I’ll do everything I can to help you along the way.”

  She shook her head firmly, her black hair whipping around her. “No.”

  “Then what are your plans?”

  “To join my children,” Carla said, her eyes watery and red. “I haven’t changed my mind just because you saved me. I just have to find a different way to do it, but I will. I have to be with my children. It’s probably too late to ever see my husband again if he’s trapped wandering here, an undead abomina
tion, but I might be able to see my children again.”

  “Do you think your family would want you to throw away your life?”

  “I threw away theirs.”

  He sighed heavily. “In the end, this decision is yours and yours only, but I want you to choose carefully because you can only make this decision once. I’d give anything to see my wife and step-daughter again, but I know they’d want me to keep fighting. I’ll see them again someday, but for now, I’ll be here doing my best to make them proud.”

  He turned away from Carla, heading back over to where his bike stood. “If you change your mind and feel like joining me, I’ll be spending the night in the green house on the next street over—can’t miss it. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

  The bike roared to life and he disappeared down the street, leaving Carla seated on the curb. She wondered what she was going to do with herself, if her decision really was the right one for her. Her heart ached and she longed for her husband and children, but was it true? Would they want her to keep fighting no matter what? They were safe from further harm and would surely be waiting for her when her time came—however soon that may be. What would they think if they could see her now?

  But they can’t see you, she argued. You killed them. You took the choice to fight away from them. Why should you get to keep fighting if they can’t?

  Carla scooted to the edge of the curb, putting her head in her hands and moaning. She felt so lost without Chris there to comfort and guide her. They had been together for nine years, and for those last nine years, they had never failed to make a decision together. And now that he was gone, she felt his loss in every little thing, including this decision. How was she supposed to decide what to do without hearing his view on both sides, without his unwavering support?