In the Lone and Level Sands

by David Lovato

  “Are you all right?” Fred asked Sara.

  “I’m fine, love.”

  The van continued down the anarchic street at a steady pace. The only people who were normal were being mauled. Blood from countless dozens was spilled on the streets and sidewalks. Pieces of bodies hung over car doors with smashed windows. The number of living people was rapidly dwindling.

  “Siever’s Crest?” Fred looked back at Charlotte for the answer.

  “Yes. Turn right onto Burleigh, that’ll lead us to the subdivision. Along Burleigh, turn left into Siever’s Crest, then right onto Woodland Drive. After that, left onto Enslin Avenue. 8401 is the house number.”

  On the left side of the street was a big sign. The letters stood out, made of tarnished brass:

  Siever’s Crest

  A body lay in front of the sign, almost welcoming the group.

  Fred drove down Woodland until he saw “Enslin” on a street sign. He drove for another minute, and then they reached the house. Fred pulled into the driveway.

  A few seconds later, Charlotte’s father Al came out of the house with his gun at the ready. He rushed to the driver’s side window of the van. With his free hand, he motioned for Fred to open the window, then looked around. Some zombies had noticed them. Fred rolled the window down.

  “Who are you?” Al said.

  “I’m Fred Samson. Your daughter and son-in-law are with me.” He motioned back to Charlotte. Al looked into the back.

  “What?”

  “Dad! Are you and Mom okay?”

  “Oh my God,” Al said. He almost choked up. “Thank God. Thank God.”

  “Mind if we park here?” Fred asked.

  “It might be best to park in the back,” Al said. “There’s a gate that leads out back. I’ll open it up for you.”

  “Thanks,” Fred said.

  The fence was about seven feet high, with dark-brown wood planks that wrapped around a spacious back yard. Al opened the gate, Fred drove through, and Al closed the gate behind him and headed for the back door. The van came to an abrupt halt, and everyone unbuckled their seatbelts.

  ****

  Four couples and a dog rested peacefully in the living room. Fred sat with his right arm on the armrest of a chair, his hand gripping it tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. The soft touch of Sara’s hand made his grip loosen, and he smiled at his hospitable hosts.

  “Ben, what happened to your face?” Al asked. “The cuts, I mean.”

  Charlotte clutched Ben’s hand. “We got in an accident,” Ben said.

  “Oh my God!” Ruth said.

  “Why didn’t you call us or anything?” Al’s face turned beet red. “It’s been over a day!”

  “We lost our phones in the crash,” Ben replied. “Fred and Sara here helped us out. We stayed with them, and then everything went to shit.”

  “So you’re not hurt?” Ruth asked, patting Al’s shoulder.

  “Just cuts and bruises,” Ben said. He looked away. Charlotte looked at Ben, waiting for him to share the other news of the crash. When he didn’t, she sighed and looked at her parents.

  “He’s suffering from amnesia. I don’t know how bad it is, but he doesn’t remember things.”

  “Oh my,” Ruth said. “What things does he not remember?”

  “Me.”

  There was an awkward silence that no one broke for what seemed like ages. Charlotte couldn’t take it anymore, so she spoke up.

  “When we woke up after the crash, it was like he’d met me for the first time. The doctor in Blackwater Falls said cases like this are somewhat common, and that it’s likely he’ll regain his memory.” She and Ben exchanged uncomfortable glances.

  “How long does something like that take?” Al asked.

  “That’s the thing. They don’t know. They said something in Ben’s life could spark everything back, but when I didn’t do that, I got pretty worried.”

  “Things are coming back to me, but mostly little things, glimpses. I’m really trying.” Ben put an arm around Charlotte for a moment.

  “This must be hard for you, on top of everything else that’s been going on,” Ruth said, looking from Ben to Charlotte. She stood up. “Come on, Charlotte. We’ll get the drinks, and we can talk about it if you like.”

  Charlotte nodded and looked down at Ben. He met her gaze, and put on a small smile. Ruth asked everyone what they wanted to drink, and then she and Charlotte went to the kitchen.

  “Are you all right?” Ruth asked as she pulled some glasses from the cupboard. Charlotte was digging though the fridge for the beer.

  “Can we change the subject, please? I think we’ve been on it long enough. I’m fine. We’re working through this.”

  “If you’re sure,” Ruth said.

  “I am, Mom.”

  “Okay, changing the subject. Hmm.” Ruth poured cold tea into a few glasses. “Aha! So, when did Richard and Carah come into all this?”

  “We were heading here, and we spotted them along the road. Their car had died, and they were being attacked.” Charlotte handed Angus’s bowl to Ruth to be filled.

  “They aren’t going to turn like those people outside, are they?” Ruth asked. “Like some of our neighbors?” Ruth looked out the kitchen window, between the bars. A rose bush blocked the lowest portion of her view. The wind rocked the bush, the bright red flowers swayed gently.

  “They weren’t bitten. Neither one of them. There’s nothing you need to worry about.”

  “Okay. I trust you, honey.”

  “Thank you. Now, let’s go out there and make the best of a bad situation.”

  Charlotte and Ruth headed back to the living room and handed out the drinks. Angus lapped water out of his bowl like he hadn’t had a drop in ten years.

  “So Fred,” Al said, “what kind of arms did you bring?”

  “I have a shotgun and a pistol. Although I’m running low on shotgun shells.”

  “You came to the right place! I have a shotgun, a hunting rifle, and two handguns. Not to mention all the ammo a man can use in a year. I think we’re set. We have tons of food, been saving up stores of it for years. We shouldn’t need to go out for a while.”

  “I think I can speak for all of us when I say that makes me feel a lot better,” Ben said.

  When they were bored of the banter, they played games. After a good hand of poker, Al put his arm around Ben’s shoulders and squeezed, smiling at him, a tinge of worry in his eyes.

  “You’re pretty good at this game!”

  Ben smiled back, then looked at Charlotte, who was laughing. Her eyes met his. Something about her always seemed to make him smile.

  Outside, away from the view and thoughts of the survivors, zombies wandered the neighborhood. The gate to Al’s back yard tapped softly against the rest of the fence with every blow of the wind, unheard and waiting to be discovered.

  30

  In the Apartment

  “I’m bored,” Tim said. It was the first thing Max heard before he opened his eyes.

  He sat up. His back was sore from sleeping on the floor. The room was dark because the windows were covered.

  It was the same thing every morning.

  In the week since Max and his family had escaped the carnival and broken into the empty apartment, they had very carefully gathered some essentials: flashlights, blankets, food. They also made sure to check and see if the situation outside was getting any better.

  In fact, it had gotten worse. Far worse. It was getting harder and harder to find provisions. Some of the zombies had gotten into the building, and outside there were more every day. Besides that, they had gotten faster and smarter. They almost always hunted in packs, they fought among themselves less, and after a few days, they could jog. Then they could run.

  He could see it in his father’s eyes: Coming to the apartment building was a bad idea. This thing was not going to blow over. Max could tell his dad wanted to take the family away, but getting the six of them out in one piece was
probably impossible, and by the time Andrew had realized that, it was days too late.

  Max could tell, for the first time he could ever remember, that his father had no idea what to do. He could also tell that, whether or not they realized or accepted it, they were simply waiting to die.

  The days had gone by slowly. The family seldom spoke, both out of fear of being heard, and of not having anything to say. There was little to do. Max had managed to snag a checkers game from another apartment on one of their supply runs, and the kids were happy with it at first, but the game got old quickly. For a while, Max and Tim spent time trying to make up new games with the checkers set, but nothing stuck. Now, it sat in the corner of the otherwise empty main room, untouched for days, its pieces scattered. Had things been different, Margaret would’ve told them to clean it up days earlier, but that was a different lifetime.

  “I wish Dad would gather us together and just make a run for it,” August said to Max, quietly. “We could take these things out.”

  “Don’t be stupid, okay? You’re not invincible. This isn’t a game.”

  Andrew entered from the kitchen area.

  “I think I’m going to go to the boiler room today,” he said. His family looked at him. Max could sense something different. Andrew seemed somehow less hopeless, less defeated. He seemed borderline happy.

  “What for?” Margaret asked.

  “I found something down there yesterday. I think we can use it to get out of here.”

  “What? What is it?”

  “There are a bunch of gas canisters down there. They’re for the generator, for power outages. I think we can use them to make a bomb.”

  Tim and Julie looked at each other.

  “Should we be talking about this in front of the kids?” Margaret said.

  “We need to have a plan,” Andrew replied. “I’m going to tie a bunch of those canisters together and set it off on the other side of the complex. It’ll leave a big hole in the building and clear us a nice path out of here at the same time.”

  “But what if people are hiding in the other apartments?” Max said.

  “We can’t afford to worry about that, Maxy,” Andrew replied.

  Max jumped to his feet. “You can’t just say that! You could kill innocent people! People just like—”

  “Max! I don’t want to hear it!”

  “People just like us,” Max said, then he sat back down.

  “I’m going to set it off, then we just hop into the nearest car and drive like hell.”

  “What if the car is locked?” Max said.

  “We’ll break in.”

  “How will we drive it with no keys?”

  “I’ll put it in neutral and coast it away if I have to. I can probably hotwire it, too.” Andrew turned to Margaret. Max could tell his father was getting tired of his questions. “Margaret, I want you to come with me. I’m going to need your help.” A heaviness fell over everyone in the room. Margaret stood up.

  “Okay… Okay.”

  “Mommy, no,” Julie said.

  “Hey, don’t be afraid,” Margaret replied. She got down on one knee and looked into Julie’s eyes. “Mommy and Daddy will be right back, okay?”

  Julie was trying hard not to cry. For a moment Max was, too.

  “August, Max, come here,” Andrew said. He took them aside. “August, you’re in charge while we’re gone. I can’t promise the door will hold forever. If something happens, get into a car and go. And no matter what, stay together, am I clear?”

  August nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep us safe.”

  “Max?”

  “Okay, Dad,” Max said.

  “We love you all very much,” Margaret said as the Greenwald parents headed for the door. She and Andrew left quietly, and August shut the door behind them. She saw the younger kids were terrified.

  “Don’t worry, guys. Dad can do anything. Especially with Mom with him.”

  ****

  Andrew and Margaret made their way across the building. A few of the halls were empty, as Andrew had blocked them off with furniture to keep some paths clear. The ones that weren’t were teeming with zombies.

  In the boiler room they found several gas canisters. They were medium-sized, and each weighed about fifteen pounds. Using some rope from a nearby utility shelf, Andrew tied together two groups of four canisters each.

  “Can you lift one?” he asked.

  Margaret picked up one of the bundles. “It’s heavy, but I can manage it.”

  “Good. Don’t worry, we aren’t taking them too far. Just set them down in the lobby.” He found a package of flares near a toolbox, decided they might come in handy, and tucked a few into his pants.

  They used the canisters from one group to dot the hallways that entered into the lobby. Andrew opened each and placed it on its side, so he could create a fire to block the zombies from getting through if he was spotted before he finished setting up. He set the other group of canisters against the front door. He and Max had put some furniture in front of the doors, but it had been scooted aside, which explained the zombies in the halls.

  Andrew peeked through the opening. As he suspected, the outside world was full of the creatures. One passed a few feet from the door, and Andrew ducked back inside.

  The apartment the Greenwalds were staying in was just up the stairs and down the hall. Andrew hoped the explosion would be far enough away.

  He opened one of the canisters and poured some of the gas over the others and the ground below them. Andrew set the open canister on its side.

  “So how are we going to do this?” Margaret asked.

  “I’ll toss a flare from the stairs, and we’ll run back to the apartment. The explosion will clear us a path.”

  The two headed back toward the stairs. Margaret yelled as a zombie lunged from behind the reception counter and landed on Andrew. He rolled and the zombie fell off, but it was quicker getting back to its feet than he was. It pounced him.

  “Get off!” Margaret said. She looked for something to hit the zombie with. Andrew fought back against the biting, dodging when he could, and pulled one of the flares from his pocket. He used it to smack the zombie in the head, but the zombie didn’t seem to care. Andrew ignited the flare and pressed it against the zombie’s face. It screeched in pain and rolled off of him. Andrew tucked the flare into the zombie’s pants. The creature writhed in place for a moment, then caught fire. Still screaming, it got to its feet and hobbled around the lobby, turned toward one of the hallways, and then fell on top of one of the canisters, which promptly exploded.

  The next thing Andrew was aware of was Margaret helping him up. His side hurt and his hearing was muffled. A big beam of light was pouring into the lobby, and he realized the canister had punched a small hole in one of the walls of the building.

  Cursing his luck and then cursing his stupid plan, Andrew got to his feet. His leg hurt, but Margaret helped him walk. They headed for the stairs.

  ****

  Max heard a boom. Julie’s eyes kept wandering to the door. Tim’s hadn’t left it. Max looked at August.

  “I’m sure Dad was just taking care of a small group, or something,” she said. “I’m sure they’re okay.” She didn’t sound sure of anything.

  Max went to the window, pulled away the thick blankets, and peered out. He could see a grassy hill and golden sunshine, blinding after spending so much time in the dim light of the apartment.

  When his eyes adjusted, he saw them.

  A large horde, at least fifty, running from the other side of the hill, toward the noise they had heard. A few seconds later there were at least two hundred, and this was only one side of the building.

  Max headed for the door. August got there first.

  “Open it!” he said. August opened the door. Max pushed ahead of her and looked out.

  Margaret and Andrew were limping up the stairs. Several zombies were shoving their way over and past the furniture barricades in the nearby halls.

>   “Max, shut the door, we’ll be right in!” Andrew said. Max saw a blur as one of the zombies ran right past the door he was standing in. “Shut the damn door!”

  “Look out!” Max said. The one that had run past the door was upon them, and Andrew used its own momentum to shove it down the stairs. At the other end of the hall, a barricade gave, and dozens of zombies rushed toward Max’s parents.

  “Let me out there, I can help!” August said. She poked her head out.

  Andrew and Margaret looked at each other. Max could tell they understood something, but it was lost on him until Andrew lit a flare he was holding.

  “Shut the door, Max,” Andrew said.

  “No!” Max replied, but his body moved without him, and he shut the door right as another of the zombies passed by. The zombie must have heard it shut, because it started beating at it.

  “Let me out!” August said.

  “Shut up!” Max said. Julie started crying.

  There was a crash as the zombie shoved its arm through the door. Tim screamed.

  “Max, the kitchen!” August said. She held the door shut, trying to stay clear of the zombie’s thrashing limb.

  Max ran into the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and ran back to the door. He thrust the knife, but the zombie’s arm moved at the last second, and the blade got stuck in the door.

  “Max, get it!” The zombie shoved, and the door snapped off of one of its hinges. August pressed against the door with both hands. Another zombie joined in.

  Max yanked hard, pulling the knife from the door. He also fell down. The door opened slightly, and one of the zombies stuck its leg in. Max plunged the knife into it. The zombie shrieked and let go of the door, giving August an edge. Max pulled the knife from the zombie’s leg and stood up. Then the other zombie grabbed him.

  The door snapped in half. The kids screamed. Max pushed forward, past the zombie, into the hallway. Both zombies were trying to push their way into the apartment, and August was using part of the door to hold them back. She wouldn’t be able to hold them for long.