by David Lovato
****
It was late, and Keely was hungry. She could see Brandon in his cot, but both were afraid to move. She looked around and saw some people listening to music, some on laptops, a few talking quietly. She turned back to Brandon.
“You can draw, you know.”
“I know,” Brandon said.
“I’m still waiting for that surprise.”
“There is no surprise. I’m done with that drawing. I messed up, didn’t like it. I’ll draw a different one, sometime. A better one.”
Keely felt sad. She was terrified, everyone was. She was worried about Kirk, now that he and his goons were armed and had free reign to do what they pleased. She felt tears begin to well up, and shook her head. She hoped he didn’t remember where her cot was, that she’d never see him again.
“I’m scared,” Keely said.
“I’m scared, too.”
Keely looked around. Now the flashlights didn’t mark police officers but ruthless men with guns. She looked back at Brandon.
Keely sat up, then slid to the ground.
“Keely, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Brandon said.
“Shh,.” Keely looked around, then crouched over to his cot and lay down next to him.
“Keely, you could get in a lot of trouble.”
“If we’re going to be scared, we at least shouldn’t have to be alone.”
She hugged Brandon, rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her. Soon enough, they were both asleep.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Keely’s eyes shot open. It was day. A man with a gun ripped the blanket off of them. Brandon woke up, too.
“Did I fucking say you two could fuck around?”
The man grabbed Keely by her hoodie and yanked her off of the cot, throwing her to the ground. She stumbled, lost her footing, and fell. Brandon sat up.
“Hey, leave her alone!”
The man turned to him. “Watch your fucking mouth. This is your only goddamn warning, and you’re goddamn lucky you’re even getting one.”
The man turned back to Keely, grabbed her by the back of her neck, and lifted her to her feet.
“So, you think you’re clever, sneaking around behind our backs? Think you’re smarter than me, do you?”
“No, it’s not that—”
The gunman backhanded her. She almost fell, but caught herself. She was just glad to have his fingernails out of her neck.
“What was it then, huh?”
Keely could tell Brandon wanted to get up, to make sure this man never hurt another person again. With her eyes, she begged him not to.
“Fucking look at me!” the gunman said.
“I was c-cold,” Keely said. The man paused for a moment, and then burst out laughing.
“Cold! If that isn’t just the boldest fucking lie I ever heard. It’s fucking hotter than hell in here! I tell you what, I got some friends who are mighty lonely at night. I bet if I toss you in a room with them, they’ll keep you warm!” He laughed some more. Keely was disgusted, but she still hoped Brandon wouldn’t try to start a fight.
Fortunately, the man left them after his angry tirade. Maybe he couldn’t find his way back, maybe he had other things to do. It didn’t matter. Keely remained in her cot, thankful that he was gone, still worried that he might come back.
Most of the refugees spent the morning in silence. A few children sobbed, some cried. Outside, the moaning and scratching against wood were louder than ever.
A few quiet, terrifying hours passed. Then, someone screamed and pointed: One of the barricades had given way, and zombies were pouring into the stadium. Two of the gunmen had been close by, and both were quickly overtaken by the wave of zombies. Some of the other gunmen rushed to the scene.
The people in the stadium pushed backward. Keely and Brandon had a lot of room, but Keely watched as some people along the sidelines of the field were pushed against the walls, some being slowly suffocated. Across the stadium, a group of people reached one of the barricades and started tearing it down.
The stadium was falling apart. Keely didn’t know whether to be afraid, or grateful.
“Now’s our chance, we can escape!” Brandon said.
“How?”
“We’ll go around the zombies as soon as there’s a gap. We can get out the same way they got in.”
The two walked toward the breach, but stayed away from the zombies. There were dozens of them eating away at the people in the stadium like it was a grand buffet.
Brandon and Keely crept closer to the edge, getting within a few feet of the oncoming zombies. Then, Brandon spotted something. “Wait here.”
“What are you doing?” Keely said. Brandon got closer and closer to the zombies. “Get back here!”
Brandon knelt down by one of the fallen gunmen (who was still being torn apart) and grabbed a rifle, then doubled back. One of the zombies noticed Brandon and followed.
“Look out!” Keely said. Brandon turned, shot the zombie, and then returned to Keely.
“Sorry. We could really use this, though. It might help us get out of here.”
A few minutes passed, and the zombies didn’t let up.
“This isn’t working,” Keely said. She looked around; in the sea of moving bodies, she couldn’t tell who was or wasn’t a zombie anymore. Then she spotted something. On the other side of the stadium, the survivors had succeeded in tearing down some of the barricade covering one of the exits. There was only a small wall of plywood left. The people were now lifting each other over it, to safety.
“Over there,” Keely said, pointing to another barricaded exit near them. “We’ll make our own exit.”
They made their way toward the end zone, but about halfway heard someone call for help. Keely turned to see Kirk lying on the ground, badly wounded. He had been bitten.
“Please… help me!”
“Forget him, Keely, let’s go!” Brandon said.
“Please, I don’t want to turn into a monster like them,” Kirk said.
“You’ll never be a monster like them,” Keely said. “You’re a monster of another kind.”
“Just kill me. You should be more than happy to.”
“Let’s leave him here to rot,” Brandon said. Keely took a deep breath, then she took the gun from Brandon and pointed it at Kirk’s head.
“Thank you,” Kirk said. He coughed up some blood. “I’m so sorry.”
Keely pulled the trigger. Kirk’s brain splattered onto the painted grass below his head, the remainder of which dropped like a rock.
Keely handed the gun back to Brandon, and they headed toward the exit. A few more zombies had noticed them, and were following.
“Let’s hurry,” Brandon said.
The exit they found was much simpler than the one Keely had spotted across the stadium. A high plywood wall was topped off with a table that had been wedged sideways to complete the wall.
Brandon shot a nearby zombie, then put the gun over his shoulder. “Come on. I’ll boost you up, then you can pull me over.” He cupped his hands and kneeled down. Keely climbed up, Brandon lifted, and Keely shoved the table as hard as she could. It fell over and rolled down a small hill of tables and chairs, most of which were resting legs-up.
Keely hoisted herself up, the rough edge of the plywood leaving splinters in her fingers. She climbed over the plywood wall and let her legs dangle below, then touched down softly on a table. It was rickety, but it supported her weight. She turned around and looked down over the wall.
“Okay,” Keely said. She could barely reach Brandon with her arms outstretched, and the plywood was pressing into her armpits, digging into her skin. “Grab my hands, I’ll pull you up.”
Brandon grabbed hold of both of Keely’s hands. He pressed his feet against the plywood to try to hoist himself up the wall.
“Come on, they’re getting closer!” Keely said. The table below her gave way, and she collapsed into the pile
of junk, letting go of Brandon. He fell back onto the grass. Keely’s side scraped against the leg of a table when she landed.
“Fuck! Brandon!” Keely heard several gunshots from the other side of the wall. She struggled to her feet, then moved the table back, her side aching, and set it as level as she could before climbing back up and looking over the edge of the wall.
The zombies were approaching too swiftly, and there were too many. Brandon fired shot after shot. Then, his gun clicked.
“Come on, get your ass up here!” Keely lowered her hands. Brandon took them, then a zombie grabbed him and pulled him down. It sank its teeth into his shoulder, and he screamed. Another zombie got there a moment later.
“No!” Keely screamed. The zombies pulled Brandon to the ground. One of them pounced, but he hit it in the face with the butt of his gun. He did the same to the other zombie’s kneecap, which buckled, and it fell. Brandon got back to his feet.
Keely reached down. “Brandon!” Two more zombies arrived from the side, leaving Brandon surrounded. More were approaching from behind. “Brandon, give me your hand!”
Brandon reached down at something. Another zombie grabbed his waist and bit his neck.
“Brandon, what are you doing?”
He reached back up again, his sketchbook in his hand, offering it to Keely.
“Brandon, I don’t want that! Climb up here!”
“It’s too late, Keely,” Brandon said. Another zombie bit into his arm. They were pulling him back, but he pressed forward, arm outstretched, the sketchbook barely within Keely’s reach.
Keely reached down and took it. Tears were filling her eyes. The table below her gave way again, and the last she saw of Brandon was him standing there, his arm slowly lowering, eyes fixed straight on her, more and more zombies surrounding him, digging their fingernails and teeth into him. She never heard him scream.
****
Keely threw a chair out of her way as hard as she could. She fought the urge to climb back up, to try to get Brandon out of there.
She looked ahead and saw the outside world for the first time in too long. It was overcast, the sky looked like it could burst at any moment. There appeared to be no zombies in the area. Of course; they had all migrated to the opening. There was just a small concrete hallway separating her from a cloudy day.
Keely looked at the sketchbook. She turned the pages to the last drawing before the sketchbook gave way to an inch of pages that would never be used. On the crisp white paper, in various colorful shades of pencil strokes, was an image of Keely, floating above a row of trees. Brandon floated beside her, holding her hand.
Keely was surprised. She almost smiled.
****
Keely stumbled as she walked out of the stadium and onto a grassy hill. She fell to her knees, crying, clutching the sketchbook, now closed to protect it from the rain that was beginning to sprinkle down. She coughed, almost choked, and threw up.
Then she heard footsteps. Keely wiped her eyes and saw someone’s shoes, and an extended hand. She took it and got to her feet, her knees wobbly.
“Are you okay, miss?” a man said.
“No… I’m okay, I mean, I wasn’t bitten.”
The man looked at the stadium. “Did you come from in there?”
Keely tried to answer, found herself choking, and nodded. The man looked around.
“Everyone in there,” Keely said, “they’re all dying. All of them.”
“I know. We were trying to get in. Hey, come with me, okay? I have some friends, we’ll help you out.” He turned his head. “Layne!”
Keely saw two cars at the bottom of the hill. A few people were standing around, some were drawing, they were forming a plan. One of them looked up.
“Yeah, Ralph?”
“I found someone! She came from inside, and she’s all right!”
“Bring her down here!” Layne said. He turned and beckoned to the other car.
Keely and Ralph walked to the bottom of the hill, where Layne was standing with a black man and a guy probably Ralph’s age.
“What’s your name?” Layne asked.
“K-Keely.”
Layne and the black man looked at each other.
“I don’t fucking believe it,” the black man said.
“Language,” Ralph said.
The passenger door of the other car opened, and Katie stepped out.
“Oh my God,” Keely said.
****
Katie rushed toward Keely, and the two of them embraced. The others got out of the cars.
“What are the odds of that, just what the hell are the odds of that?” Dex said. Katie and Keely kissed.
“That’s disgusting,” Ralph said. Kyle looked at him. “It’s offensive.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Kyle said. Keely turned and looked at Ralph. Her eyes burned.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Ignore it, Keely,” Katie said. “I’m just glad you’re alive.”
“Do you have any idea… Any idea, what I went through in there?” She shook her head, then turned back to Katie. “I can’t believe it. I feel like I’m dreaming. Just…” Tears filled her eyes. She was thinking about Brandon, about Katie, about everything.
“Well,” Ralph said, “I mean, everything happens for a reason, you know. I’m just saying…”
“Ralph!” Layne said. He was too late.
Keely yelled as she let go of Katie. She ran toward Ralph and tackled him. He fell hard on his back. Keely raised her fist and punched him in the face. She lifted her fist to do it again, and Ralph put his hands up to block. Layne grabbed Keely’s raised arm, and she tried to free it. Katie grabbed her other arm, and the two lifted Keely away from Ralph.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” Keely said.
“Keely!” Katie said. Keely’s eyes widened, and she stopped struggling. Kyle offered a hand to Ralph and jerked him to his feet.
“I told you shut the fuck up,” Kyle said.
Ralph held his mouth, wiped blood from it. “I think she broke my jaw.”
“Good,” Garrett said. “Maybe now you’ll think twice before moving it.” Ralph returned to the minivan.
“Keely, calm down, it’s all right,” Katie said. “I’m here, now. We’re okay. We won’t ever be apart again, okay? Don’t worry about him. We’re alive, and we’re together. And everything is going to be okay.”
The two hugged again. Keely buried her face in Katie.
“Well, I hate to break this up,” Layne said, “but we aren’t alone. I suggest we relocate our reunion to a quieter area.” He pointed toward the stadium, where the zombies still waiting to get in were eyeing the group.
“Right,” Katie said. “Come on, Keely. Get in.”
Everyone entered the vehicles, and then they were off. Keely watched the stadium fade from view. She looked down at the sketchbook.
“What’s that?” Katie asked.
“Something a friend gave me,” Keely replied. Katie didn’t say anything. She just wrapped her arms around Keely, who leaned into her.
“So where do we go, now?” Layne said.
Katie closed her eyes. “Anywhere is fine with me, now.”
“To the end of the world,” Keely said. Shortly after, she fell asleep.
49
Leaving the Stadium
“Now, where the fuck are our cars?” Billy said. Martha and the others trudged down the sidewalk, away from the stadium. There were few zombies out, as most of them had poured into the stadium.
“Up this way, I believe,” Alan said. They tried to move quickly.
“Where can we go?” Martha asked.
“We may just have to drive until we find a safe place.”
“Where?” Francine said.
“Anywhere,” Alan replied.
“Anywhere but Lynnwood Stadium,” Phil said. He sighed heavily.
The two cars they’d traveled in were just where they’d left them, mostly untouched. The SUV was missin
g the driver’s side window. Its crumbled remains lay all over the driver’s seat, the steering column, and the floorboard. Some had even made it onto the dashboard. The stereo had been snatched right out of its slot. The lonely wires hung out of the compartment, the ends facing the gearshift like dead vines.
“Damn it!” Billy said. “Why in the hell would someone steal the radio? They can’t even use it!” He sighed.
“Who knows?” Alan said. “People act strangely in times like these.” His keys jingled as he fished them out of his pocket.
“Well, we shouldn’t take this car on the road with the smashed window,” Emily said. “We’d be exposed.”
“That’s right,” Alan said. “We can take my car, but it only seats five. There are eight of us.”
“We’re gonna have to find another car that still has the keys in it,” Billy said.
“I’m betting most of these cars belonged to people at the stadium,” Jesse said. “Wouldn’t they have taken their keys with them?”
“Probably, but look at that car, over there.” Alan was pointing to a car that had collided with a streetlamp. The hood was folded up a little, and the only thing holding the bumper and license plate on was the streetlamp. Otherwise, it looked like it would drive, and it was certainly abandoned.
“That thing’s totaled,” Billy said.
“It’s mainly cosmetic damage,” Alan said. “If it runs and has windows, that’s all that matters.”
“Let’s see if the keys are still in the ignition,” Francine said. She hurried over. The others followed. She opened the door, plopped into the driver’s seat, and felt for the keys.
“They’re here!” She turned the key, and the car started. Alan hurried back to his car and drove it over to the crashed one.
“Good,” Billy said. “Now, we can get the hell out of happy town!”
Alan rolled his window down and said, “We just need to figure out who’s going in which car. I’ll obviously drive mine.”
