by David Lovato
“Honey, I scanned the entire yard, and the area just past the fence. There’s nothing out there that can get to us.” Charlotte watched as they kissed briefly, and then looked to her right. There Ben sat, petting Angus. Ben looked at her and smiled.
“Hey, Charlotte,” he said. He looked away almost immediately.
Charlotte leaned in close to him and said, “Ben, can we talk in private?” He nodded. She stood up.
“Charlotte, honey, where are you going?” Ruth asked.
“I think I’m going to rest,” Charlotte said. Then she looked longingly at Ben, who wrung his hands and looked around the room. The pieces of the puzzle were as jumbled as ever, and some were still missing. She had hoped that coming to Bangor would be the key to unlocking his memory, but nothing had improved.
“You look like you could use some shut-eye yourself,” Al said after clapping a hand against Ben’s back. Ben looked at Al with a grin, then followed Charlotte into their bedroom. Charlotte faced the window for a short time as Ben closed the door, quietly.
“Something wrong, Charlotte?” Ben said.
“No, I’m fine. I was just hoping we could talk. Alone.” She sat down on the cushioned seat that was built into the wall. Ben took a seat next to her.
“I think I have a good idea about what,” he said. He sighed.
“Do you?”
“Of course I do.”
“I don’t want to push you into anything… I just really need to know where we stand.” She leaned against the wall, and gave a heavy sigh. “It’s on my mind constantly, Ben. I see you, the way you look at me, you’re sending me signals. It feels as if we’re like this again.” She raised her right hand, the index finger and middle intertwined. “But sometimes, it’s like you see me as a complete stranger.” Charlotte lowered her gaze to the reddish-brown rug in front of the window seat.
“I don’t mean to, Char. It’s just been hard to concentrate with all that’s happened. Everything that led us here, you know what I mean?”
“I do know. I just want… I just want us to be back together.”
“Look, I’m doing the best I can. I think it might just be easier another way, though.”
“What do you mean?” Charlotte said. Ben leaned in, laid an arm around her, and kissed her. Charlotte leaned back against the royal blue cushion and exhaled slowly. She wasn’t sure how to feel. Ben pulled away.
“If it won’t come back on its own, maybe it wasn’t meant to, and we can just kind of begin again, you know?” Charlotte didn’t respond.
A bolt of lightning and rumble of thunder jolted the couple out of their awkward silence. Ben looked out the window.
“Shit, that was loud,” he said. He wrapped his fingers around one of the iron bars as he peered out at the growing storm. The rain was picking up.
“You don’t think it will get really bad, do you?” Charlotte asked.
“I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see, and hope for the best.”
There were two light knocks on the door, startling the couple.
“Come in,” Charlotte said.
Ruth entered and said, “Charlotte, Ben?”
“Hi, Mom.”
Ruth smiled. She approached the two, gazing out the window. “Hey, there. It’s looking nasty out there, isn’t it? I hope it doesn’t get much worse. The last thing we need is a storm in addition to those… creatures.”
“Are you all right, Mom?”
“Yes. I’m fine. Tired, is all. Dinner is just about ready, if you both want to go ahead and get something to eat. You must be starving.”
“I could go for something to eat,” Ben said.
“I made spaghetti,” Ruth replied. “I always have the ingredients for a good spaghetti dinner, even in the midst of utter chaos. When you two are finished in here, go ahead and come to the kitchen.” She gave a kind smile among subtle wrinkles around the corners of her mouth, and then left the room as quietly as she’d entered.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Ben said. He stood up and looked at Charlotte. She smiled and followed Ben out of the room, still worried about their standing on their relationship.
****
Everyone sat around the living room as before, but with TV trays, forks, and plates piled with heaping mounds of spaghetti. Fred and Sara sat near each other, their trays pushed together; Sara nabbed Fred’s half-eaten slice of garlic bread off of his plate and took a bite.
Carah twirled a clump of noodles onto her fork and lifted it to her mouth, a couple of strands hanging awry. Here and there, a few signs were thrown. Richard’s napkin fell from his knee to the floor. He leaned forward and picked it up.
Al took a loud sip from his beer can, then set it on a coaster. Before he took another bite, he covered his mouth, his cheeks puffed outward, and a burp came roaring out. Ruth flashed him the evil eye, which was followed by a smirk.
“You get that one, dear. All others after are punishable by law.”
“What woman doesn’t like it when a man compliments their cooking?”
“Hardy har har.”
“When you really think about it, what law is there anymore?” Richard said, with a challenging smile.
“Wife Law,” Ruth said. “That’s the law that all husbands must follow, and it supersedes even the end of the world.” She made eye contact with Sarah, who nodded.
“That’s right,” Sara said.
“Hell, I’ll take that over the Zombie Law any day, no questions asked,” Fred said.
“Yes, at least we won’t be eating you anytime soon,” Sara replied.
Carah signed something to Richard, and he turned to Ruth. “Carah says this is the best spaghetti she’s had in a long time, and I have to say I agree with her. This is great stuff!”
Carah smirked, and began to actually speak, signing as well.
“It is, but that is not what I said, Rich!” She laughed. Richard laughed harder.
Ruth laughed. “Thank you so much.”
“Very, very good, indeed,” Fred said.
“As always,” Charlotte said.
“My goodness!” Ruth leaned back. “I do try, but I must pay credit where it’s due. It’s my mother’s recipe and—”
A house-shaking clap of thunder erupted, and the lights flickered.
Fred’s eyes widened. “God sure is pissed about something!”
“That’s for sure,” Ben said as he shoved his fork into his mouth. His eyes were glued to the window, at least until the sound of Charlotte coughing caught his attention. “Are you okay?” She nodded.
“God should be pissed about a lot of shit,” Al said with a coldness that no one had heard from him before.
“This can’t end well,” Charlotte said.
“No, this is good, Charlotte,” Al replied, pointing his fork at her. “We’re just being punished for our sins, and the dumbest guy in a moron convention could figure that much!”
“Al,” Ruth said, “leave it alone.”
“Please don’t take offense to this, Al, but I never really pegged you as a religious man,” Fred said.
“Yep, born and raised. All my life, I’ve tried to be a good person. And I sorta waited—not looked forward to, mind you, but waited for something really bad to happen. I waited for God’s punishment. Those fuckers out there are God’s way of purging His planet of the filth that’s gotten so used to living here.”
“Al, please,” Ruth said.
Al ate the last of his spaghetti. Silence blanketed the room. To Ben and the others, it felt like a few eternities went by, and then Richard spoke up.
“‘God’s Punishment’, huh? I don’t know if it’s a punishment or not, but I plan to live on anyway.” Carah smiled at him, and they hugged. Once they broke from the hug, she signed. It was a one-handed symbol like the one frequently seen at rock concerts, except with the thumb extended.
“I love you, too,” Richard said.
A sharp crack outside startled Angus out of his bed. He sat, almo
st leaning, against Fred’s legs. Fred leaned forward and rubbed Angus’s head.
“Aww, poor Angus,” Charlotte said. “I’ve never seen a dog more afraid of storms before.” It was a sight to see, the shepherd shaking like a leaf. “He’s not going to sleep through the night, I would imagine.”
“Not a wink, no, unless the big guy upstairs quiets down a little.” Fred caressed the spot between Angus’s ears. This seemed to take Angus’s mind off the storm a bit, and his torso was no longer shaking.
“I sure hope this storm shuts down,” Ruth said. “Just look at that rain!”
Everyone in the room turned to look; they were mesmerized by it, if only for a few moments.
“Hope those fuckers are drowning out there,” Al said. He stared out the window with a frown on his face.
Out in the downpour, those in search of flesh were not drowning. They were, however, soaked to the bone, and their attempts at finding a bite to eat had been for naught.
Three zombies wandered through the rain. One, once a young man with blonde hair, brushed against the fence’s wooden gate. It opened a little bit. The blonde-haired zombie reached out, grabbed the gate, and opened it. The zombie grunted, and all three zombies stumbled into the back yard, leaving the gate open behind them.
Blondie’s scraggly hair was matted down to his scalp. Water continuously dripped down his brow, into his eyes. This didn’t bother the zombie, nor slow his pace. Large raindrops pelted his chest as he led the other zombies into the back yard. Blondie grunted; the sound was guttural and did not travel very far in the storm.
Inside, everyone was either finished with their food or nearly done. The serious banter had returned to its originally playful (and almost unanimously preferred) state.
Ruth stood up and said, “I’m taking plates.” Charlotte joined her in standing.
“Do you need any help, Mom?”
“No, no. You just stay in here. I’ll take care of the dishes.” Charlotte took her plate as well as Ben’s, Fred’s, and Sara’s. She walked past her mother with a certain twinkle in her eye. As a little girl, that twinkle would show when Charlotte played more loudly after being asked to quiet down, or made a mess instead of cleaning her room. How much Charlotte had grown made Ruth proud, and she wished the world were different so that she might enjoy it. At the same time, she wondered if, had things been different, she would’ve noticed it at all.
Ben stood up and walked toward the window to the right of the mantle. For a split second he thought he saw something as he stared outside, but it might have been a trick of the rain. He looked for a moment, saw nothing but darkness, and then waved it off.
“Damn. What a storm,” he said.
“No joke,” Al said. “I bet the fuckshits out there are having a hell of a time moving through it!”
Carah let out a small grunt and rubbed her head. She rocked back and forth. Richard set a gentle hand on her shoulder.
You’ve got a headache? Richard signed. She gave a simple nod. Richard turned to Ruth. “Do you have any ibuprofen or Excedrin?”
“Hmm,” Ruth said. She walked over to the hall table, where her purse was. She searched it thoroughly, but when she had finished, there was no prize. She set the purse down and looked at Richard. “I can’t seem to find any, but I know we must have a few Tylenol somewhere.” She left Richard and the others with a smile and a nod, suggesting that she would be back shortly.
Ruth’s bedroom was down the hall, at the back of the house. As she walked into the room, she flipped the light switch. Ruth headed for the bathroom.
Outside, the three zombies were standing in the back yard, and several others had joined them. One of them had been looking at Ruth’s window when she turned on the light. The zombie shuffled across the slippery grass, toward the house.
The power went out, and the light in the bedroom went with it.
“Damn it,” Ruth said. She felt across the room to her nightstand, and then fondled for the drawer. Sure enough, there was a small flashlight inside. Ruth pulled it out and flicked the switch. A vibrant white beam shot out and hit the wall. She shone the light along the floor as she moved into the bathroom.
The beam of light danced over the medicine cabinet. Ruth washed the light over all the labels she saw, but none of them were Tylenol. She sighed and continued looking, the beam sliding down to the counter. There was nothing useful there either.
A window shattered in the bedroom. The burst of glass took her attention away from her search, and she spun around and looked into the bedroom. A soggy face attached to a pair of shoulders leaned in through the broken window.
Ruth froze. She wasn’t sure if the zombie had spotted her. She turned the flashlight off, but not before the zombie saw the beam.
The zombie started climbing through the window. Ruth closed and locked the door, then waited for a moment, hoping the zombie would lose interest. Instead, the zombie groaned as it scraped its fingers across the door. Then it began pounding. Ruth turned her flashlight back on and looked for something to defend herself with. On the counter was a cup containing the last remnants of standing water from the morning’s dental activities. She saw a few hair brushes, some combs, an electric razor, Q-tips, some cotton balls. The closest thing Ruth saw to a weapon was one of the combs sitting on the marble countertop.
There was a loud bang against the window, and Ruth whirled around to see a blonde zombie sneering through the glass and rain. She grimaced and backed into the wall, hoping the zombie couldn’t get in. To her dismay, the zombies outside the bathroom broke through the window easily. Blondie leaned in and reached out with one arm, then fell into the room.
Blondie made it to his feet and reached for Ruth again. He took her arm in a pruned hand. His grip was cold and tight. This snapped Ruth out of her fear. She reached her other arm back for the comb. Just as Blondie was about to bite into her arm, Ruth turned the comb around, holding it by the teeth, and jammed the handle into Blondie’s left eye. It made a sick squishing sound, and blood splashed onto her cheek as she used the palm of her hand as a hammer, pounding it against the end of the comb, driving it in deeper.
Blondie’s grip loosened, and he crumpled to the floor. Shortly after, there was the loud bang! that could only be the firing of a gun, and then the doorknob shook.
“Ruth! Ruth, are you okay?” Al said. He pounded on the door. Ruth saw two more zombies trying to get in, so she unlocked and opened the bathroom door. Al stood in the doorway with a pistol in hand. His eyes were wide, and they darted from Ruth to Blondie’s body lying on the floor.
“There are two more!” Ruth said, pointing to the window. Al moved into the bathroom, his feet crunching over broken glass. He shot the zombies, stopping them in their tracks. He scanned the back yard briefly, and couldn’t see any more zombies from that angle. He returned to his wife.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “I went after you because you’d been gone so long, and I found one of those fuckshits right in our room!”
“Yes, I-I believe I am. I’m sorry. Are there more out there?”
“Not out that way,” Al said. “Better go check the other window!” He went to the bedroom window and looked out. It was hard to see through the rain, but he could tell there were a few more out there. None of them seemed aware that there were people inside the house. “We need to block off this window. Get Ben, will you, Ruth?”
Ruth nodded. She hurried to the living room and found it illuminated by several candles, impressed both by how quickly the others had set them up, and that Al was able to recall where the candles were kept.
“Mom, what happened?” Charlotte asked.
“I’m fine,” Ruth said. “A couple of the creatures broke in. I killed one in the bathroom. Your father got in there just in time.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ben asked.
“Really, I’m fine. But Al needs you in our bedroom. He needs another hand to help block the window.”
“I’m on it.” Ben stood up a
nd walked toward Ruth, who handed him her flashlight. He took it and smiled. Ruth nodded and smiled back, and then went to sit down.
“I didn’t find any medicine for Carah’s headache,” she said as she rubbed the dots of blood off her face as best she could.
“Do you want a glass of water?” Charlotte said. “You look like you could use it.”
“That would be nice,” Ruth said. “Thank you, dear.”
Charlotte headed into the kitchen and reached into the cupboard for a glass. As she filled it, she looked over the counter, and by the microwave was a small bottle of Tylenol. She sighed, a small laugh escaping her lips.
“Mom, guess what I found.”
“What?”
“The Tylenol.”
“You have got to be kidding me!”
“I’m sorry to put you through that for a headache,” Richard said.
“It’s okay,” Ruth replied. She looked at Carah and said, “We found some medicine.” Carah read Ruth’s lips and smiled.
Thank you very much. I’m sorry for the trouble, Carah signed. Richard translated for her.
“It’s okay,” Ruth said.
Charlotte walked into the living room with two glasses of water and the medicine. She handed one glass to Ruth and the other glass and the medicine to Carah. Shortly after, Ben and Al returned.
“What happened?” Charlotte said.
“Ben and I took care of the rest of the bastards,” Al said. “We moved the dresser in front of the window. Nothing’s getting in through there. We even moved the bed in front of the bathroom door.”
“None of them out there know we’re in here, so we should be safe,” Ben said.
“Thank God,” Fred said. It took several minutes for everyone to settle back down, and they were all edgy for a while, listening intently to every tap and scrape they heard coming from inside or outside of the house. After a while, nothing happened. It was Charlotte who finally broke the silence.
“What I’d like to know is how those creeps even got into the back yard to begin with.”
Al froze. “Shit! I must have left the gate unlatched when we all piled inside.” He turned to Ruth, who seemed much calmer than before. “Ruth, I’m really sorry.”
