by Jeff Beeman
“Past the backyard fence”
“Eric should have made it to the truck by now and been able to unload the bikes if he wasn’t worrying about being neat” Mr. Bates thought out load. “Stay here”.
I took hold of his sleeve again and shook my head no before pointing out, “You need me to listen for you”.
“Smart Alec” was all he said as we headed out to the backyard. B.B. followed then charges the fence growling. We quickly follow him to the fence only to be startled to have a figure partially leap over it. B.B. attacks immediately and brings the figure down onto our side. It takes Mr. Oliver yelling at B.B. before I realize it was him. I hang onto B.B.’s neck and tell him to stop because it is Mr. Oliver our friend. As soon as I touch his neck, B.B. lets go and tries to drag me away from the fence. Mr. Bates is helping Mr. Oliver up but before he can ask if he is okay, Mr. Oliver breathlessly blurts out, “They’re (gasp) coming right (heavy intake of air) behind me. (Heavy intake of air) More than I could count but at least a hundred!” At that instant, so many hunting moans start that they echoed off everything and even made the growing misty air reverberate.
For once Mr. Bates didn’t swear. What he does do is practically throw Mr. Oliver over his shoulder and starts running. As soon as he is up to B.B. and me, he picks me up by my waist without slowing down. Instantly when we enter the kitchen, Mr. Bates yells at the top of his lungs, “Head for high ground, we are Conference Hot!!!”
Without pause or question, everyone grabs a weapon and heads for the second story. Everyone that is but the man who was still singing. He just sits there in his other world. Ricardo actually tries to get him to get up and at one point it looks like he was trying to get some type of hold of him but after a moment, he gives up and runs upstairs with the rest of us.
We all go to the room that I woke up in and look outside. Even in the dark, we can see the waves heading towards the back fence. The first wave crashes into the fence which holds but that was a small wave compared to what is coming up behind it.
“We have to bunker here long enough to find a break and run for it” stated Mr. Oliver.
“We have to keep them out of the house. A couple of us will need to run down stairs and move more things to help bar their way in.” offered Mr. Kevins.
“That fence won’t hold much longer and we don’t have time to move enough stuff” retorted Mr. Bates.
As the others tried to come up with a plan, Mr. Anderson got off the bed and went over to the baseball bat in the corner, picks it up and starts to leave the room. Wondering what he is planning to do, I follow him. It isn’t till I realize he is heading down stairs that I speak up.
“What are you doing Mr. Anderson?”
Not slowing down or looking at me, he replies, “Someone has to give the others time to secure the kitchen area” then he coughs wetly several times and has to rest against the stairs wall.
“But you’re sick!” I exclaim as I grab onto his large wrist.
He coughs again and then spit out a mass of something before responding, “Little sister, I am dying. In my faith, if a man can die with a weapon in his hand and fighting an enemy, then that man can go to Valhalla, my faith’s heaven.” Gaining his strength again Mr. Anderson stops leaning on the wall and turns to face me. “I see in your eyes the spirit of a warrior, so be strong and let me go to fight and help buy everyone time.” His eyes are clear and I somehow can feel his strength returning to him. Slowly I nod yes and then motion for him to bend over towards me. When he does, I kiss him on both cheeks and I don’t care if there is dried blood on them.
He smiles confidently and strolls down the stairs and begins heading toward the kitchen, when he stops and looks back toward me. “Tell that young no-beard Eric, that today is the day he sees what a real man who can grow a full beard can do”
“I will remind him how lucky he is to have a Viking on his side” I promise.
Mr. Anderson coughs and laughs at the same time and then he walks out of the living room.
I head back to the bedroom. On my way, I think for a moment I hear someone sniffing the air but my hearing is messed up, so I’m not very positive. When I enter the room the others are watching the events outside with horrified interest. From what I can see, it seems more shadowy than dark like it had been so we can see more of what is going on with the fence. It is rolling back and forth as the hunting horde tries to rip it apart with their bare hands.
“Any second now” someone mutters.
In a clear voice from outside we hear, “Thor owns you all! Now come and see who can take me down!”
Everyone is stunned except for me. I just smile and want to cry at the same time.
Mr. Kevins looks around and then asks, “Where is Dean?!” to which I calmly reply, “He’s making his way to Valhalla. You better get moved to the kitchen and strengthen the barrier.”
With these words, everyone goes into action. Mr. Bates, Mr. Oliver and Mr. Kevins head down stairs to move more stuff to the barrier, followed by Officer Salazar who will guard them. Mrs. Kevins-Stahls remains at the window and watches the horde movements.
It’s a race to see if the barrier can be strengthened before the failing fence falls. As we watch, it is becoming brighter even though the air is becoming mistier. Then I see what looks like a firefly float over the back yard.
Mr. Anderson continues taunting the hunting horde till the fence seems to vanish like it was never there. A wave of moaning destruction sweeps in, what it couldn’t just move out of its way due to the mass’s momentum, leading bodies fell over and are thoughtlessly trampled into the ground. The horde’s only focus is on Mr. Anderson. Their multitude of various moans feels like my mind is being cut into and I have to turn away before I run screaming from the sound. Baby Michael starts crying strangely and Mrs. Kevins-Stahls begins to whimper as she tries to rock the baby.
B.B. is sitting on his haunches, shivering so much it looks like his fur is moving similar to waves on the pond at Cheesy Park. I quickly sit down beside him and while holding Bouncy Bouncy in my left hand, hugged B.B. so we all can be in it. B.B. seems to feel a little better and I know Bouncy Bouncy and I did too.
All there is it seemed is the hunting hordes moaning and baby cries, then the four downstairs appear. My mind is so numbed I never notice them entering the room.
“The barrier won’t be effective for long. There are so many of them it is like a tsunami wave. They might be able to go through the walls soon.” Stated Mr. Oliver.
“What are we going to do, Dad?” whimpered Mrs. Kevin-Stahls.
“I don’t know, that moaning is making it hard to concentrate.” Replies the frustrated Mr. Kevins.
“Maybe we can go out the window of the room I was in” says Mr. Bates, thinking out loud. “If we fashion sheets, we can make ropes and climb down to the first floor. It is on the opposite side of where the “Conference” is so we can get a head start on escaping on foot”.
It took the adults a moment to get themselves to focus on the idea but then the ball seemed to get rolling. Mr. Kevins and Mr. Oliver went down stairs to grab weapons and some of the food that had been packed. Mr. Bates and Officer Salazar began making ropes out of the sheets, as Mrs. Kevins-Stahls begins creating a sort of sling to carry Baby Michael. I try to use Bouncy Bouncy to keep the baby from crying so much, but he just keeps making that weird cry. B.B. goes back to shivering and looking like he wants to throw up.
Everyone in the room works on their various tasks but then freezes in place, except Baby Michael and B.B., when there is a loud pop and then a sound like a lot of ice hitting the kitchen floor. The frozen moment lasts until the two from downstairs appear again at the doorway of the room with weapons and about three backpacks.
“Three were pushed through the kitchen glass door. The barrier won’t keep them from spreading into the house for very long.” Needless to say that after Mr. Kevins had told us this, we got to work real fast. When the sheet rope was completed and tested, people st
arted getting weapons and backpacks. I see my torn Hello Kitty backpack and naturally grab it but have to have help putting and securing it on. Almost in mass, we move into to the next room to begin our escape from the house. I catch a glimpse of poor B.B. as he skitters with us, if he had a longer tail, it would have been planted between his legs.
Officer Salazar goes down first to make sure the rope will at least hold her weight and so she can guard that part of our escape path. She is favoring her hurt shoulder but luck is with us and the rope holds together. Next, Mrs. Kevins-Stahls is going to be lowered down, instead of climbing down, to allow one hand to be free so she can keep the baby secure.
It takes a moment to set up the rope for this. If this works I will be next, then B.B. Mrs. Kevins-Stahls kisses her father then her baby, before working her way out the window. The sling and rope seem like it is going to work. Mr. Kevins is sitting straddling the window ledge as he helps lower his family down and watches for any hunting packs. Mr. Bates and Oliver again brace as they work lowering her and the baby. Mr. Bates has part of the rope twisted around his arm so he can act as a brake just in case. When Mr. Kevins nods his head, Mr. Bates feeds rope along his arm, as Mr. Oliver makes sure it doesn’t tangle as it feeds and acts like an anchor. With my turn coming I begin working Bouncy Bouncy back into his travelling chair on my belt. Having only one hand sucks.
Then what I can only describe as a rapid series of sounds starts off with a weird mixture of dull cracking and smacking followed by B.B. yowling and finally ending with three gunshots. What I see as my left ear rings loudly again is B.B. stumbling past me before collapsing to the floor. About the same time, two holes pop with blood sprouting out of Mr. Bates back and one in Mr. Oliver’s left shoulder that causes him to let go of the rope. With the loss of the anchor, Mr. Bates collapsing body is flung forward making him crash into the startled Mr. Kevins., then both vanish out of the window.
I barley have time to realize Mr. Kevins yelled as he went out the window before my arm and shoulder scream as I go flying up thanks to the darn backpack. Cruel laughing mixes with the ringing.
“Now I have my revenge, perros” snarls Ricardo who is holding the pistol Mr. Bates lost in one hand and me in the other. I scream because of the pain of having the straps cut into my hurt shoulder.
“And with this Esta niñita, the Reverend will pay me well for her”
Mr. Oliver rolls slowly rolls over onto his back as he fights to keep from giving into the pain.
“Your perros compañeros, will be like dinner bells that will bring the muerto hambriento to them and get them out of my way“. At this points he again cruelly laughs, then says, “Adiós but I have no reason to wish you good luck” He begins to move backwards. I can’t struggle due to the pain. Mr. Oliver and B.B. are struggling to get up.
Fate...what a stinker! Here I am being helplessly dragged into the hallway and towards an unimaginable future which has something to do with a Reverend. My last hopes, Mr. Oliver and B.B., are injured and unable to help. Due to the pain, I can’t even help myself. At least, when Fate sucks, it is willing to spread the suck around.
Somewhere over the roar of pain, I hear a low moan. Ricardo must have heard it too because I suddenly find myself solidly on my feet and the pain not flooding into my brain as much. Looking down the hall towards the stairs, Ricardo prepares to shoot the first moaner coming around the corner. Too bad for him, Mr. John Wilson seems to have died a Bad death. The closed door opens and the horrible smell of Bad death chokingly flows out, followed by the moaning body of Mr. Wilson. I hear Ricardo gasp in surprise. I wish I had time to say, “How does it feel to be grabbed?” to him but I am too busy being grabbed and picked up by Mr. Wilson to do much of anything other than scream in fear. He lifts me near his face but instead of trying to bite me, he sniffs my hair. I think to myself What The Fate is he doing! Suddenly, I remember the shampoo was scented and that is what is attracting him somehow. As he begins chewing on my hair the straps of my backpack bite into me again. Ricardo is trying to pull me back to him at the same time firing shots into Mr. Wilson’s torso with no effect. “Thanks” to the pain caused by my shoulder, I don’t feel the wad of hair being ripped out of my head but the sound of is makes me scream like I have never screamed before and gives me the ability to struggle even with the mind numbing pain. Unaware of his injuries or that Ricardo is trying to take me away, Mr. Wilson goes in for another wad of hair before B.B. roars and knocks us all down.
Somehow from the moment the blinding suns of pain filled my vision till both of my ears are ringing painfully, things happened that I am unaware of. It isn’t till I return to the world that I find I am on my hands and knees. B.B. is tearing into Ricardo’s hand that is holding my backpack. Breaking bones announce I am free. Weakly I get up to my feet using the wall. B.B. stands guard as he growls towards the direction of the stairs. Looking around me I find amid the shadows cast by the burning house next door that filters past the curtains of the game room window, Ricardo is shot up, while Mr. Wilson’s head is in pieces starting from what used to be his jaw.
Looking back towards the room Mr. Oliver is in, all I can see is a figure lying on the floor. I stumble to the body of Mr. Oliver, who is lying next to a rifle and amid several spent cartridges. He has been shot in the chest once. I can see that his eyes are open but only see death now. I kneel down next to him and close his eyelids like I saw Daddy do. I get next to his ear and thank him very much for being my friend and for saving me. Finally, like what Daddy, Momma and I would do long ago, I kiss him on the forehead once for luck, once for sweet dreams and finally once to say good night.
I get myself up and head down the hall way. Moans fill the house and something is coming up the stairs. As soon as I walk past B.B., he snarls and launches himself so that when the first member of the hunting pack comes up and around the hallway stairs, B.B. is already in the air and knocking it back into the rest of its pack. When I make it to the stairs I see that like dominions, the pack of ten has fallen down. B.B. is breaking any hand or arm that he can get at with his huge and strong jaws. As I start down the stairs, I eventually have to hold onto the stair rails as I walk on shifting bodies. To my right I hear singing amid the sounds of ripping fresh flesh and chewing. I don’t look that way. Without being touched, we make it out of the open front door in time to see Mrs. Kevins-Stahls limping into the sea of fire while Officer Salazar uses her pistol gripped shotgun as a club. For a moment, we meet eyes, then she shouts, “Run” before she runs into the fire after the mother and babe, with a pack of three hunters not far behind her. I wish I had run, instead of being there to see a hunting pack come around the side of the house struggling with itself over what was once Mr. Kevins. I will never forget that sight.
B.B. gently nips my hand to bring me back from that sight. The sea of fire has spread to engulf other houses. Hunting packs are making their way past the car barricade down the left side of the street, while the horde has taken over the right area of the neighborhood. Daddy once said when we found ourselves in a really bad situation that sometimes the only way to make it is to run the gauntlet. I turn around and run back into the house. Focusing on the torn tarp that separates the kitchen and living room, I keep from seeing the feeding pack on the now quiet singer or the pack struggling to rise. B.B. brushes past me and makes it to where the kitchen sliding door once was. Now only a scattered pile of glass bits that reflect the flaming skeleton of what was once a house. The heat is blistering painful but we get past it and it feels like we entered a freezer. It is so cold, you can see the moisture frozen in the air, as flights of what look like fireflies float way from the burning house to find new homes so the cycle can begin again. B.B. waits for me at the garage door, he is so clever. He remembers we can use the “mouse hole” to escape. I work to open the door but it takes me a moment. I can hear moaning getting closer and that almost makes me freeze with fear if I let it take me, but I push it to the side and get the door open. I go through, turn to l
et B.B. in but there is no B.B. I freeze with shock until a hand slaps the corner of the garage as a moaner or a hunting pack is about to work its way around it.
Where is B.B.? Is all I can think as I stand there frozen while the first one comes around the corner.
Chapter Twenty One
Chisholm Park
Cold still grips this part of the world. She has brought in a portable bar-b-que grill and kept a small fire going. She has done this without thinking. She goes outside as soon as there is enough light that makes it past the clouded sky so she can see. Never does she worry about moaners, statues, or hunting packs. Without thinking she goes to the spot, kneels down and continues using a hand garden shovel on the frozen ground. She never notices her hand has started bleeding again from various cuts. Nothing distracts her from her action until darkness threatens to engulf her.
Returning, she tears pages from a magazine so the fire can be strengthened. Not so much for the little heat it provides but for the shadowy light it casts.
Holding a flat head screw driver as best she can she begins her nightly work using the large rock as a hammer. This continues until fatigue makes her slump into dreamless slumber.
The process begins all over again.
Days pass
Then the routine changes because a new task is being performed again without thought.
This new cycle again takes on its own routine. Neither ice nor sleet stops her. Days pass without notice except when she eats mechanically at night because her body finally threatens to fail her, which would then leave her task unfinished.
Finally, the last task is to be performed. Her mind, unlike the real world’s sky, has been clear of anything, but today is different. A memory like a cloud moving across overhead casts images down, much like a cloud’s shadow feels when it pass over a person.
*****
All through the night she ran crying. Thanks to the moans of the various hunting packs, she was able to avoid them though they pushed her in directions that would not lead back to her base. If she could make it there, B.B. and the others would come find her and she wouldn’t be alone. Then they would help her find precious Bouncy Bouncy. The last of her family was lost in the dark and cold night because she hadn’t secured him well enough to his travelling chair. She couldn’t go back to find him when she realized his travelling chair was empty. Too many packs out this night.
