A Little More Dead

by Sean Thomas Fisher

“She won’t stay here; look around. It’s a deathtrap. Plus, we need more people, especially people who know how to shoot a gun.”

  Dan nodded, slowly grinding his jaws. “Especially beautiful blonds who know how to shoot a gun.” He swallowed. “So how do we convince her?”

  “We tell her goodbye and then we leave.”

  Dan opened his mouth to respond but the dressing room door clicked open and Wendy staggered out with her yellow locks in a tangled mess and her tight fitting jeans half twisted the wrong way. Dan whipped around so fast he knocked the flashlight to the ground with a clatter. It rolled, flickered and went out.

  Wendy pointed her flashlight at Dan before redirecting the beam to the women’s restroom where she disappeared.

  Paul stared at Dan through the darkness. “Smooth.”

  ☠

  Sophia came out of the bathroom and released a breath she’d obviously been holding for several seconds, maybe even minutes. “That is so gross,” she panted, adjusting her red coat.

  “Sorry princess, but the Marriott is another town over,” Wendy snapped, gnawing on a rock hard Mars Bar.

  Sophia joined them at the bar and folded her arms across her chest, teeth chattering. “I need a hot shower so bad it hurts.”

  Wendy washed some aspirin down with a shot of whiskey. “I’d settle for some wet wipes.”

  “Right?”

  “We think you should come with us.”

  Wendy’s blue eyes darted to Dan.

  He sat up straighter on his barstool. “You’ll never last here by yourself and you know it.”

  She laughed sharply. “Oh trust me, honey, I’ve dealt with bigger creeps than those things out there.”

  Sophia and Paul laughed, spiking his headache.

  “How many bullets do you have left?” Dan asked, pressing the point.

  Wendy shrugged. “Enough.”

  “How many are enough?”

  “A box or so.”

  “And when your food runs out?” Sophia ran a brush she found in the dressing room through her hair.

  “I’ll run down to Chuck’s.”

  “Chucks?”

  “It’s a grocery store a few blocks from here.”

  Dan laughed out loud. “On foot? You’re crazy! You almost died coming here, remember that part of your little story?”

  Wendy didn’t respond and took another shot instead.

  Paul clasped his hands together over the map. “Look, we need your help just as much as you need ours. We can watch each other’s backs and make it somewhere safe so we can figure out our next move.” He spread his palms. “I can’t figure shit out when my fingers and toes are frostbit.”

  Wendy turned to the mirror behind the bar, wheels turning in her head. They ate their candy bars and chips in silence, everyone too tired to say much else.

  “I appreciate the offer but someone will show up here,” she finally said. “Joe or Tammy or somebody. I can’t just leave. I don’t even know you.”

  Dan gestured to the front door. “And what if no one shows up?”

  She lifted a shoulder to her ear. “Maybe I’ll come find you.” Her eyes landed on Paul. “Where are you going again?”

  Paul slammed a clip into his gun and racked a load before getting up. “I’ll let you know when we get there,” he said, looking to Sophia and Dan. “We should get going.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Paul peered through the crack in the backdoor, heart thumping in his chest. The cop car was still there and in one piece. “It’s clear,” he whispered, curling a finger for Sophia and Dan to follow. He stepped outside, pulse racing because here they go again and the last thing he wanted to do was jump on this ghastly merry-go-round and hang on for dear life but they had no choice. They were the hunted now, reduced to prey in a blinding flash, the evolutionary tables turned. His legs ached and cold sprinkles fell on his face.

  “Wait!”

  They turned to find Wendy standing in front of the manager’s office with a case of liquor bottles in her hands. “Got room for one more?”

  Paul traded an I told you so look with Dan and, one by one, they filed out to the car parked beneath a cold gray sky that wept for them and their plight. Before climbing in, Paul took Sophia by the hand and pulled her against him, the rain turning to sleet, tapping against their coats. “I love you.”

  She smiled up at him, green eyes glowing through the gray. “I love you too,” she said softly, planting a wet kiss on his lips.

  He held the door while she got in the back with Wendy and then joined Dan up front. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Paul said, slamming the door shut.

  Dan immediately hit the electric locks and started the car, revving the engine block and turning on the heater while Paul attached the shotgun to the dash.

  Wendy sighed, peering out her blurry window. “All I’ve been able to think about my whole life is getting out of this dump and now…” The words crumbled on her lips and a lone tear spilled down her fair cheek as Dan pulled away from Dancers and got back on the road.

  Sophia took Wendy’s hand and gave her a reassuring smile. “We’re going to be fine, trust me. We didn’t get this far on luck. We just have to stick together.” Her eyes fell to the .38 sitting between them on the seat. Wendy looked up from the gun and nodded her understanding.

  The first few miles were slippery and Dan nearly slid into the ditch during two different sweeping curves in the road. An hour later, the sleet turned back to a sprinkle, the snow on the ground beginning to fade with each passing mile. The conversation was surface level at best, the windshield wipers running on lazy like them. Dead fields with skeletal trees and hungry livestock zipped past. Paul exhaled a low breath, drawing Dan’s eyes. Whatever it was, it wasn’t infecting the animals. They were still alive, but with no one to feed them, not for much longer.

  Dan slowed down, drawing everyone’s attention to a horse and buggy a quarter mile up the road.

  “Oh my God,” Wendy muttered, alarmed by the dark figure slumped over inside the carriage.

  The large horse shuffled along like it’d been walking without water for days, its lethargic steps mimicking the infected.

  Paul pointed up ahead. “Pull around and cut it off.”

  Sophia put her fingers through the cage and pulled herself to the edge of the backseat. “Paul, this not a good idea.”

  “They could be hurt.”

  “Or one of those things!”

  When Dan blocked the road, the horse came to a reluctant stop. The balding gray-haired man slumped over the reins didn’t move. They sat inside the car and waited, watching to see what would happen next. The thought that it might be a trap skated through Paul’s mind, fueling the tension tightening his jaw. He grabbed the tactical shotgun and opened the car door. The brown mount whinnied. Paul turned back to his wife. “Stay here.”

  “Paul,” Sophia whispered, pinching his coat through the cage as he got out.

  He glanced into a nearby tree line to make sure they were alone and grabbed the reigns, pulling them from the man’s bloody hands. “Easy boy,” Paul said softly, stroking the horse’s face and studying a deep gash on his hind quarter. He noticed a wide brimmed hat lying on the ground between the horse and black buggy. Ignoring his heart’s audible trepidation, his eyes rose to the man inside. “Hello? Sir?”

  The man remained slumped over the front end of the buggy, his long black coat making him look like he just rode in from the Salem witch trials in 1692.

  Sophia rolled her window down when Paul stepped closer. “Be careful,” she whispered.

  Using the twelve gauge to push him back in the bench seat, Paul recoiled at the revulsion etched into the man’s face. He looked like he died in pain and the horse whinnied again. Paul glanced behind him and turned back to the man, finding no trace of blood around his long gray beard or the bare spot above his upper lip. Paul’s gaze snagged on a rip in the man’s coat, the blood there dried and dark.

  “Is he
dead?” Sophia whispered.

  “I think so.”

  “Be careful, he could still come back,” Dan shouted.

  Paul turned to the others in the car. “There’s a bloody hole in his coat.”

  Sophia screamed when the man grabbed the shotgun barrel with arthritis twisted hands and pulled.

  “Help me,” he wheezed, coughing blood onto his denim shirt.

  “Jesus Christ!” Paul fought him for control of the gun and slipped in a thin patch of snow, falling to his ass and taking the shotgun with him.

  Mouth gaping, the man’s head rolled loosely on his shoulders. When he spoke, he sounded half asleep. “They came last night, these…things.” His lungs wheezed as he struggled for breath. “They dragged my wife and boy screaming into the woods. I tried to go after em but…” He winced with a flash of pain slicing through his left side. He pulled his hand out from under his coat, eyes widening at the fresh blood coating his fingers. Spitting to the ground, he looked over his shoulder. “We have to go back.” The man turned to Paul with pleading eyes. “Please.”

  Paul got up and let the shotgun drop to his side like it weighed a hundred pounds. “We can’t.”

  The man tried sitting up. “But you’re the police!”

  “We’re not the police.”

  “What?”

  Another coughing fit overtook him and Sophia rushed over with some water, helping him take small sips while Paul used his boot to nudge her back a step. No one was to be trusted. He glanced in the backseat at Wendy, who was busy staring at them like she was passing a thirteen car pile-up.

  “Thank you, mam,” the man panted, looking Sophia over while catching his breath. “You’re not the police?”

  “We’re not the police,” she said.

  The man’s eyes bounced from the tactical shotgun in Paul’s hands to the state trooper’s patrol car.

  “We stole all of this stuff.”

  His thin gaze snapped back to Paul and when he spoke, his words were low and quiet. “You’re criminals?”

  Sophia frowned. “We’re not criminals. We were running for our lives from the same things you were.”

  “Then call for back-up.”

  “The radio’s dead,” Dan said out the window.

  “Don’t you have a cellular telephone?”

  Sophia’s eyebrows drew together, the wind tugging at her ponytail. “The phones have been down for days,” she said, grabbing the man’s black hat from the ground and pouring water into it. “You must’ve heard about the attacks on TV.”

  He watched her water his horse, eyes wrinkling around the corners. “Don’t have a TV. And what attacks?” he asked, leaning over and spitting blood to the road.

  Paul exhaled slowly, forcing his disbelief down and his heartbeat to calm. “He doesn’t know,” he whispered.

  “When were you bitten?” Dan yelled out the window, revving the engine.

  For a moment, the man stared at Dan as if he were out of his mind “I wasn’t. I caught a tree in the dark, speared a branch clean into my ribs.” The man leaned forward and grimaced with the motion. “Where’m I anyway? Benji must’ve walked all night.”

  Sophia used her soft voice, the one that always says everything is going to be okay. Like the time Paul threw a lamp against the wall after she came out of the bathroom with another pregnancy stick and that goddamn dejected look stamped into her face. “Sir, we don’t know where we are,” she replied, setting the hat down in front of Benji. “We’re just passing through. Can you take your coat off for me so I can take a quick peek?” She turned to Dan. “Pass me a first aid kit.”

  The man reeled back from her touch and settled into his seat, letting out a heavy breath. “Tell me what the hell is going on here first. I need to find my family!” He cringed and grabbed his side, a teardrop disappearing into his beard.

  Sophia shifted her weight. “Those things you saw last night are everywhere, in every country. The power is out and there is no one to call for help.”

  His gaze followed hers to the bloody tear in his coat. He clenched his teeth as another painful shock wave surged through him, reminding Paul of his mother on her deathbed. The man took a moment to collect his breath, catching fire lit glances of the night before. “It all happened so fast,” he said dully. “We never saw em coming.”

  Paul snorted. That’s what they all say.

  “You think they’re dead? Hannah and James.”

  Paul wrinkled his brow.

  “My wife and son; are they dead?”

  Paul hung his head and sighed, watching some dead leaves skitter past his boots. “I don’t know.”

  Benji whinnied again and the man leaned his head back and shut his eyes, taking a steadying breath that didn’t work. Gray clouds churned above as he turned it over in his mind. “And what happens when they bite you?”

  Paul shook his head. “It’s not good.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, if you get bit you turn into one of those things.”

  He met Paul’s heavy stare head on, cold blue eyes turning to steel. “I have month’s worth of food and water at my house, plus guns and plenty of ammunition as well. We have animal traps, gasoline, horses, a working well, and fifty acres of fertile land to plant crops.” His lips settled into a thin, grim line. “If you come back with me and help me find my family, it’s all yours – all of it. I swear by all that is holy.”

  Paul studied the man, the truth stuck in his throat. “They’re probably gone,” he finally said.

  “Listen to me, if they’ve turned into monsters like you say, I can’t let them live like that. It’s not right and, in His name, I won’t have it! Not my family; not like that!” He clutched his side. “If that’s the case, I want you to help me put them to rest. Their souls deserve that much. They’re good people, Paul.”

  Paul stared at him in a stunned silence for a few seconds, indecision flickering in his eyes. A turkey vulture soared above on outstretched wings, its shadow slipping across the roadway. Thunder rolled off in the distance and the horse shifted its mighty weight.

  Paul followed Benji’s glassy eyes to the trees. “I’m sorry, but we have to keep moving.”

  “What kind of ammo?”

  The man’s tight gaze jerked to Dan. “Shotgun, nine millimeter, forty cal, nothing fancy but enough to do the trick.” He turned back to Paul. “If my wife and son aren’t there when we get back you can still have it. All of it.”

  Paul rubbed his forehead.

  “We need more ammo, Paul,” Dan said, resting a hand on the steering wheel. “What we have won’t last long, especially between four people. And some food that isn’t snack food would be nice!”

  “Paul,” Sophia said in her quiet voice – the one that usually tells him it’s time to stop watching Game of Thrones and come to bed. “It won’t hurt to take a quick look for his family.”

  Paul opened his mouth, examining the wound the man was covering with his hand. Matt and Mike slipped through his mind. He fucked that up beyond all recognition and this was his chance to redeem himself, but it was also another chance to die trying. If they went back to his house, their odds would get worse. Much worse. He looked back the way the buggy had come, peering past the naked trees and endless fields. “Lift your shirt.”

  The man stared at him with a flabbergasted look smeared across his face.

  “We have to be sure.”

  With a bloody hand, he parted his long coat and pulled his denim shirt up. Paul stepped closer, pinching his eyes together as Sophia strapped on a surgical glove from the first aid kit.

  “Told you.”

  Paul looked up from the small wound.

  “Tree branch,” the man said, the hint of a smile brushing the corners of his mouth.

  Gently, Sophia ran an antiseptic wipe over the wound with Paul looking over her shoulder. The man set his jaw, shallow breaths making his chest pump faster. Sophia glanced back at the others. “It’s not a bite. In fact,”
she said, her words tightening in her throat.

  Paul’s eyebrows dipped as he watched his wife pull something from the wound.

  Pinching it between her fingers, she held it up and turned it in the gray light. “Tree branch,” she said, flicking it into the ditch.

  Paul released the breath he’d been holding and ran a hand down his grimy face. “Where do you live? How far back are we talking?”

  The man’s eyes widened. “Thank you so much. You will be in my prayers until the end of time.”

  Paul barely had time to spin around when a bearded man in denim overalls sprang from the woods. Sticks and branches splintered beneath the obese man’s boots, and, at the speed he was running, there was no time for errant shots. “Oh shit!” Paul slid the shotgun into his shoulder as Sophia peeled her gun from its holster. They each got off a single shot. The man’s enormous head jerked backwards, his large feet sliding out from beneath him. Paul could feel the ground shake when the man landed on his back and stirred up a cloud of dust. Dan and Wendy exited the car in a hurry, guns as drawn as their faces. The four friends kept their weapons trained on the thing’s bloated body, staring in horror at the mess that used to be the man’s face.

  Paul slowly looked up. “Holy shit, did you see how fast that guy was?”

  Dan stared at the dead man through disbelieving eyes. “Just like the repairman back at the farmhouse and that redneck at the gas station. Those guys were both fast as hell too.”

  Sophia’s voice came out in a shaky whisper. “The fat ones are fast.” She looked up at the others. “How can that be?”

  “I don’t know,” Dan breathed, lowering the shotgun.

  Paul shook his head. “Maybe it’s a muscle mass thing.”

  Wendy gestured to the dead man with her gun. “There is no way that guy ever ran that fast before a day in his life. So why now when he’s dead?”

  Two crows landed on some branches above, cawing and watching.

  “And the plot thickens,” Dan murmured, scanning the woods.

  “Sir?”

  Everyone followed Paul’s gaze to the man sitting in the buggy with his head leaning back and his eyes closed.