by A. Rosaria
Ralph put his hands on his head. He felt powerless. Ginny was alone in her room, ill, and he could do nothing about it. Just sit here and wait.
“Mom, please, can't anything be done to help her?
“We ran out of medicine a while ago. I wanted to go to the pharmacy and get some for her, make her better, back into the little kid she was.”
Tears welled in her eyes; she choked and started crying. “I...I…”
He went over to her and put his arm around her.
“I'll go get whatever you need, Mom.”
“Oh, Ralph, you shouldn't. Before the news got cut off, I heard there was rioting downtown. It might be worse now.”
She didn't know. Staying inside all day and with the government covering things up, she must have missed it all. It would be too much for him to bring her up to speed now. With Ginny still ill, it was best she didn't know what was really going on. She might take him for crazy or she would protest him going out to get Ginny the medicine.
“Riots are long over; everyone is staying inside, scared to catch the flu. I guess only pharmacies and hospitals are still open.”
She nodded, staring sullenly out the window. Since when could he so easily lie to her without her catching him it? It must be a combination of worry and recovering from the flu. This flu certainly packed a punch. It must have hit so hard that it brought people back with their senses so far gone that they forgot they were dead. It must be a hell of time recovering from that, more so than she was letting on. She smiled at him while seconds ago she still was all spaced out.
“I'll make a list with what we need.”
***
Ralph had just gotten home and already he stood outside, tucking the list his mother gave him into his pocket. She quickly pushed a key in his hand.
“Take care and don't break my car like you did yours.”
“I won't. And Mom, if Sarah comes by, tell her I'll be right back.”
“Sarah? Isn't that the girl you like?”
“Yeah, sort of, just don't tell her that.”
He waved good-bye. He was not sure if this was real. Ralph opened the garage and walked past the car to the back of the garage. Before he left, he had to get something first. He searched the shelves. He found a hammer and took it. He had lost the one he had taken from the construction shack when he crashed the truck through the roadblock. It sure could come in handy having a hammer with him if he ran into a zombie.
The pharmacy was not far from his home, only a five-minute drive. He made it in quick time and double parked in front of the store. The place looked deserted, just like the whole city. He got out; his hammer clutched it in his hand. He looked around and flinched when he saw the police car parked three cars down. He laughed when he realized cops didn't matter anymore in this new world he was so fortunately to inherit.
“No more cops fining people for double parking; much too busy eating a new kind of donut.”
He noticed he said it out aloud and laughed at his impending insanity. Before going to the store, he walked over to the squad car. Maybe he could get something useful out of it. Stealing from the man, how low had he gone? The sun reflected off the car's glass. He bent forward, shielding his eyes with both hands to look in. It didn’t help. There was too much sun on his back, but he saw someone sitting at the steering wheel.
The cop slowly stirred and noticed him. Ralph knocked on the window and waited for him to roll it down. Instead, the cop punched through the glass and pushed his whole body forward to get to Ralph. The glass cut the zombie cop's face open. Ralph fell backward and kicked the asphalt to get out of reach. He jumped up and swung the hammer down, caving in the zombie's head, which made a satisfying squishing sound.
Ralph opened the squad door and pulled the cop out. He grabbed the police-issued firearm, a 9mm Glock, and a spare clip. He pushed the gun into the back of his pants, pocketed the clip, pulled the squad car key out the ignition, and opened the trunk. A bulletproof vest, a shotgun, a box of shells, and a couple of 9mm boxes. He grabbed it all and transferred them to the trunk of his mom's car. Someday, all that could come in handy.
Ralph walked to the pharmacy door. The sign at the door read open. He pushed it and entered. He heard no noise and saw no signs of life. He gripped his hammer tightly, ready to hit anyone or anything that popped out. He stopped in the middle aisle, listening. These zombies were not the most silent types, but there were always exceptions to the rule like the dickless townhouse zombie that sneaked up on him and Sarah.
Once he was convinced that he was alone, he slipped the list from his pocket and went down the aisles to collect what was on the list. Most of the things he needed weren't in the rows and rows of products stapled onto each other. He put what he had gathered on the counter and looked for the rest behind the counter and on the wall with shelves of prescription boxes.
“What do you think you are doing?” a man said, while Ralph was facing the wall with a box with painkillers in his hand. He put the box back and wanted to turn and take a look at who was talking. “Don't you dare turn your ass! Raise your hands!”
Slowly, Ralph raised his hands.
“Looks like he's robbing the place, Steward,” another male said somewhere to his right.
“No names, you idiot.”
Ralph glanced sideways. A young man with a red baseball cap held a knife in his right hand and Ralph's hammer in his left. He shouldn't have left it on top of the aisles when he started gathering the items he needed. Hindsight was a bitch.
“Stop calling me names, STEWARD, and hurry and get his gun.”
“No, you go get his gun.”
They had him by the balls. Robbed in broad daylight in a city with almost no one alive, he had the luck of running into two other survivors with low morals. He stifled a laugh—says he who broke into a house, plundered a squad car, and now was emptying the shelves of a pharmacy.
The one called Steward said, “What are you waiting for? Grab his gun.”
“I'm the one holding the weapon here, while you're just standing there behaving like the boss.”
Ralph tensed for a second. He heard quick stomping behind him. He whirled around and drew his gun. A large, tall man froze and then backed down.
“I think you guys better leave this place.”
“The hell we will,” said baseball cap. “You’re going to give us your car keys and that gun you are holding or else we'll mess you up good.”
“Catch,” red hat man yelled to Steward. He threw the hammer and Steward caught it.
“Yeah, he's right,” Steward said. “Give us your shit. You can only get one of us; the other one will get you.”
“Guys, come on. Has there not been enough killing?”
He couldn't go home empty handed. Ginny needed the medicine. He didn't want to shoot anyone either. He would rather they just left him alone. There were so many other stores they could hit. They must also see the pointlessness of this.
Red hat man charged. Without a second thought Ralph shot him twice in the chest. Steward seemed surprised that Ralph actually shot his gun and reacted a few seconds too late, giving Ralph enough time to slug him with four bullets in the abdomen and chest. Both men dropped, bleeding to death.
Ralph stood paralyzed, realizing what he just had done. He had killed two men. Two healthy men in a world full of dead. He could just have walked away. He let his gun go. It clattered to the floor. He dropped to his knees next to it. Shaking all over, his stomach rocked with nausea. He hugged himself and cried out in desperation.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sarah watched him walk away. He was not the same boy she knew. They had gone to the same elementary school, the same high school, practically lived next to each other, and she never talked as much with him as she had today. She knew almost nothing about him. This was the same guy she deemed not worthy of thought before this all had happened, and now she wished she had known him better. Maybe her life would have turned out differently. Maybe Lilly would still be alive. She
waved. He waved back and walked out of sight.
She had promised herself that she had shed her last tear on that roof. She had not cried when Ralph told her Lilly had died. She didn't when she heard that Zach and Les had died. She did not cry when Jake died. No, she had smiled at his death. Ralph had seen her smile and looked at her in an odd way, reproachful even. He couldn't have known how ironic it was that in betraying her, Jake had sealed his own fate. Despite what Ralph might think of her, he still offered her his friendship, and she wanted to take him up on that.
Sarah faced the door. What might be behind it might make her break her promise. She knocked. And she cried.
Behind that door was the unmistakable moan of the living dead. Her mother or baby brother. No, not her brother. He could barely walk at ten months and he most likely would be locked inside his room. It was her mom. She had to know. She had to get inside, even if it killed her. She thought about Ralph's words. If things turned out for the worst, he would wait for her. She wiped away her tears. Before she took him up on any offer, she had to take care of this first.
She walked around to the back of the house. A distance away stood the shed her father kept his tools in. Cobwebs covered the entrance. Since his death five years ago, neither she nor her mom had entered the shed. It was his place of retreat away from his family, from the bratty little kid she was. Her lips quivered. He was not a bad dad. He just sucked at being social. He never hit her and he made sure no one dared to touch her. This quickly changed after he died. She didn't want to linger on those thoughts. Too much misery waited in that house already to also deal with the ghosts of the past.
She wiped the cobwebs aside and plodded inside the shed. Next to his wooden workbench she saw what she needed. She picked the lumber axe up. Carrying it in both hands, she strode to the back door. Her mom left it open during the day, a habit she kept even after her father's death. She slowly swung the door open and pussyfooted through the living room, careful not to knock anything over. She closed in on the incessant moaning at the front door. It was her mother with her back turned to her. She had her long, blond hair hanging loose and she had on her favorite calf-length, pink nightgown with side split to the knee.
Sarah raised the axe. Her hands trembled and the ax swayed in the air—the weight of it increased by what she had to do.
“Mom?”
Slowly her mother turned around. Tears streamed from Sarah eyes. She swung the ax, cleaving her mother's head in two. The zombie staggered two steps forward and then slumped down against Sarah, pushing her back. Her mother's blood covered her body. Sarah faltered to the wall. She leaned on one hand, and the other limply hung at the side of her body, dragging the axe on the floor. She hung her head, eyes closed, forcing the sobs and tears away. She was not finished yet; the worst was still to come.
Sarah went up to her brother’s room. Little Benny. He had been a late addition to the family, the blooming of a short relationship her mother had with some guy. He had been another loser in a string that came before him. The day he heard he would be a daddy was the day he enlisted in the Army.
She entered his room. He lay in his bed. A tiny boy in such a large bed. The railing kept him from rolling off. He seemed okay, sleeping, most likely dreaming about better days. She dared not hope that he was all right. But there he was with no mark on him. She couldn't help but hope, and for once she let go of her guard. She ran up to him, whispering his name in astonishment. She lifted him out of bed and held him close in her arms. All color drained from her face and twitched from a happy one to a crying one. He was cold, so cold. He stirred in her arms and bit down hard. Reflexively, she dropped him. He fell on his head with a loud crack that broke her heart and his tiny head.
In a daze, she plodded back down to her father's shed. She got a spade and started digging a large and small hole. She was alone on the world. No family. No real friends. Just one acquaintance. She was not sure if she would join him or dig a third hole. She put all thoughts aside and kept digging.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sitting behind the counter, rocking as he stared at the wall, Ralph didn't hear the moan from the zombie that rose up. It was only when its shade fell over him that he looked up, befuddled.
“Steward?”
It was Steward all right, although a dead Steward who had returned from his eternal slumber to exact his revenge on his killer. It took some time for it to register in Ralph's mind. By the time his survival instinct kicked in, it was too late. Steward had a hold of him, pinning him down with his weight. His teeth snapped together, dying to get some meat. Ralph pushed with all his weight. He twisted his torso and slammed the large man against the wall. Prescription drugs rained on them from the wall cabinet.
Ralph pushed himself away and scrambled back, pushing with his feet as he went. He touched something cold. He swiped the floor and grabbed his gun. The zombie was rising up again. Ralph swung the gun, aimed, and shot. The bullet pierced the wall ten inches above the head. He grabbed the gun with both hands as the zombie came plodding toward him. He squeezed out bullet after bullet until he heard a click. The zombie shuddered with the impact until the last one blew the cap of its head off. It slumped to its knees and stayed that way only a foot away from where Ralph sat on the ground.
Ralph quickly got up, struggling with the gun to get the clip out and the other one in. He fumbled with his fingers, his heart beating faster with each failed try. The other one. The red cap guy must be around somewhere. He didn't know how much time he had. He finally got the clip out. It clattered on the titled floor. Ralph’s heart beat in his eardrums. He rammed the spare clip in and aimed.
Not a single zombie left standing. The red cap man still lay in the same spot where he shot him, still dead, not animated dead. His mind raced; he couldn't focus. He couldn't explain it. He had already lost too much time. He quickly gathered the medicine from the list. And before he left, he grabbed his hammer, which had been strewn on the floor near a pool of blood.
In the car, he sighed. He prayed that Ginny was okay and raced home. What would normally take five minutes, he did in two. There were no cops around to pull him over. They were dead. The world had turned upside down, rules didn't apply, and laws were extinct. He stopped the car, wheels screeching.
His father's car was parked on the curb. He walked over and put his hand on the hood. The engine was still hot. He was so grateful that his family was back together; it knocked the worry away from him. He banged his fist on the door, but no one answered. He tried the knob and pushed the door a little bit open. Dread clawed up from his belly, each touch making his body feel clammy. His heart beat a second beat for every other second. His mind felt confused between a happy state and downright terror that everything good would be snuffed out from him within a second.
“Mom? Dad?”
He pushed the door farther open. The hall was empty. He had to find them. Ralph closed the door behind him. He didn’t make a sound. He hoped to hear his mother asking who was there; he strode to the living room and kitchen. Everything was like it was, but his father's jacket was neatly draped over the dining room table chair and his keys sat on top of the table. He put the bag next to the keys. The hammer he kept tight in his hand.
The sight of the jacket and keys should have put him at ease. With his father having had the time to leisurely do so, they had to be safe, but it didn't put him at ease at all. The silence in the house did not sit well with him. Something was wrong. The house was too quite. If the jacket and keys were not here, then it could have been that his dad and mom were outside, but they were not.
He went upstairs. The bedroom doors were closed, so was Ginny's. This was where they should be. Inside with Ginny. He put a hand on the knob. What if nothing was going on that the both of them just sat on Ginny's bed, consoling her, and he came waltzing in covered in blood with a hammer raised high. He hesitated. He pushed the door open and stuck his head in.
Mom lay on Ginny's bed. Her throat ripped out. His dad lay
in a pool of blood facedown. Ginny stood with her back to him, standing over his dad. Fresh blood dripped from her fingers. Dread rushed him, paralyzing him. He squeaked her name, Ginny.
She slowly turned around. Her face was covered in blood. Her eyes had a film of white over them. Her lips were crusted. Her skin was gray. His sister was no more. She had been dead for a day. She lurched forward, stretching out one bloody finger. The distance closed steadily and he could not move. Ginny cocked her head sideways and moaned.
He should do it—kick the door open and slam his hammer in her face—but he couldn't. It was Ginny, sweet little Ginny. There had to be a cure to make her normal. To get her back. His mother, who was lying on the bed, stirred. His father pushed himself up. His whole family was dead. They were walking toward him, wanting him to join them. Forever together, roaming the world in search of human flesh.
Ginny’s left arm reached through the opening, grabbing his arm and pushing the door open with her body. Mom and dad were right behind her. Ginny pulled his hand close and bore her teeth in the ball of his hand. The pain shot through him. He cried out. The pain slapped him out of it and woke him up to reality. They were not his family anymore. In death, they were monsters out to get the living. A virus took them away from him. The zombie biting him wasn't Ginny anymore.
He slammed the hammer on top of its head, cracking the skull. The zombie went down at his feet.
His dad, who was fifty pounds heavier than Ralph, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer. Its teeth tore through the fabric of his jacket and shirt and broke his skin. The clothes kept the zombie from being able to rip a chuck off. Ralph pushed hard. The zombie staggered back. He swung the hammer, breaking its jaw. It could not bite anymore. He still held onto him, though. His mother came around his dad and grabbed Ralph's hand holding the hammer. She bit his forearm. He yelped. He gritted his teeth and waited for the inevitable end.
