All Together Now: A Zombie Story

by Robert Kent

  Two small boys, both still alive, climbed out behind the woman and zombie girl, and that's when the dead below Ernie's really got moving, clearing the lot below us.

  "Thank You, Lord," I prayed.

  81

  I CREPT TO THE EDGE of the roof.

  Michelle said, "What are you—"

  I pressed my finger to my lips and poked my head over the side of Ernie's.

  There were less than 20 zombies left directly below and they were all shambling toward the highway. Chuck strained against his catchpole to follow, but the horde left him behind.

  The woman had stopped screaming. She lay motionless in the street, the little girl feasting on her.

  The minivan's horn continued to sound, drowning out the screams of the two boys no older than nine. They stood staring at the woman's body and though I couldn't hear them, I knew from their grief-stricken facial contortions she must've been their mother.

  Though the army of the undead streamed toward them, the boys didn't run. They stood and shook and cried and waited for someone to save them.

  I couldn't help them.

  I checked Ernie's gun to make sure I had a full magazine and motioned for Michelle to do the same.

  When she gave me a thumbs up, I poked my head over the roof again. The last of the horde was crossing the edge of Ernie's lot, their backs to Chuck, who was also watching the fresh meat in the highway instead of us.

  It was only 15 feet, maybe less to the ground. I dropped my bat over the side and it clattered across the cement, but the sound couldn't be heard over the minivan's horn.

  I lay flat on my stomach and swung my legs off the roof. Then I wiggled backward until I hung off the ledge.

  Beside me Michelle did the same.

  "Dear God, please let this work," I prayed and let go.

  I landed on my feet, but immediately fell on my butt. My teeth snapped together hard enough to make my ears ring.

  I looked to the horde.

  Their backs were toward me as they followed the dead girl, who'd abandoned her mother's corpse and rounded on her brothers.

  Only Chuck turned and snarled at me.

  I looked to the roof.

  Michelle was still hanging from the edge. I got to my feet and motioned for her to jump.

  Michelle closed her eyes and opened her fingers.

  I caught her as well as I could. It wasn't a pretty catch, but I broke her fall and kept her on her feet.

  "You okay?"

  Michelle nodded.

  "Let's go."

  Chuck reached for me as I approached, but I picked up my bat and was able to poke him back with it while I got hold of his catchpole.

  It took me only seconds to do what Chuck would've never been able to do: I lifted the snagged loop of cable off the cement pole, freeing his catchpole.

  Chuck lunged for me, of course, which is why I kept the catchpole between us. But even so, I used it more to drag him than to fend him off as Michelle and I crept across the street toward the silver Ford.

  Everything went smoothly until the minivan's horn stopped.

  The horde had crowded in at the minivan and the two little boys were no longer visible. But there wasn't enough little boy to feed the entire army of dead.

  In the absence of the horn, every snarl could be heard, including Chuck's.

  That was when some of the zombies at the back of the group turned and saw Michelle and I were off the roof and out in the open.

  82

  "LET HIM GO!" MICHELLE CRIED. "There's no time!"

  I shook my head. I hadn't come this far just to abandon Chuck.

  More zombies were turning around. The ones at the rear of the horde were already shambling toward us.

  "Go get the keys so I can put him in the trunk."

  Michelle stood staring at me and I could see she was debating. She must've seen in my face it would be faster to do it my way than to waste time arguing.

  She took off running for the silver Ford.

  "Come on, Chuck," I said. "Come on, man."

  More zombies turned, the family from the minivan forgotten, Michelle and I becoming their entire world. The footsteps of so many dead sounded like the pattering of rain.

  Each zombie snarled and raised its arms, signaling the zombie behind to do the same, and like a flock of birds changing direction, the entire horde marched toward us.

  "Ricky!"

  I turned and Michelle held up something small and white: the keys. She threw them to me and I missed. They skittered along the pavement.

  Keeping hold of the catchpole with one hand, I knelt to scoop them up. Then I dragged Chuck the rest of the way to the church's parking lot.

  The first gunshot sounded as we reached the rear of the silver Ford.

  Michelle was at the front of the car, firing into the horde as they closed in on us. I willed myself to ignore her and focused on unlocking the trunk.

  There was no time to negotiate Chuck into the trunk gently. I swung the catchpole to the right hard and fast. Chuck flopped head first into the trunk and I shoved his legs in behind him.

  He snarled fiercely, but I slammed the trunk closed as soon as his feet were clear.

  Michelle fired shot after shot, but still they came. The first of the dead crossed the church parking lot, tripping over the bodies of their fallen.

  I ran around to the driver's side door and got in. I didn't have my license yet, but I did have my learners permit.

  A dead hand slapped the windshield as I slammed the door closed. I looked ahead and saw only dead.

  But I could hear gunshots, so I knew Michelle must be close.

  I turned the key, but the engine barely sputtered.

  More dead hands slapped the windshield.

  I turned the key again.

  The passenger side window exploded. Dead hands reached through.

  I turned the key again.

  "Please God!"

  The driver's side window shattered and dead fingers clawed my cheek.

  I turned the key and the Ford's dash lit up, radio static blaring above the snarls.

  I put it in drive and hit the gas, knocking several dead aside.

  The rotting fingers jerked away from my face. The zombie on the passenger side kept his grip on the window a few feet, dragging his legs, then he struck another zombie and was knocked off.

  Gunshots sounded to the right. That's the direction I drove.

  In no time I saw Michelle. There were dead on all sides of her, but at her feet was a pile of fallen zombies. She spun, shooting the dead closest to her.

  I honked the horn and she looked up.

  She shot another zombie.

  She locked eyes with me.

  Michelle put the barrel of her gun under her chin and pulled the trigger.

  83

  MICHELLE PULLED THE TRIGGER AGAIN. Nothing happened.

  She was out of ammunition.

  I leaned across the seat and flung the passenger side door open. Behind me, I was dimly aware of the rear windshield shattering. Dead hands beat against the back of the Ford (and the inside of its trunk).

  My sole focus was Michelle.

  She shrugged away from a zombie's grasp and dove into the car. As soon as her top half was inside, I drove forward, letting her yank her legs in as we pulled away.

  The Ford's front bumper knocked zombies aside and its tires bounced over them as though they were speed bumps.

  I turned from the highway, knowing the minivan blocked the exit, and as soon as Michelle's feet were inside I hit the gas.

  The tires squealed as we peeled out of the church parking lot and down Harrington Street, the army of the dead shambling behind us.

  "Give me your gun!" Michelle screamed.

  "Hang on," I said, steering around a truck that had been left parked across the street, all its doors open. I flipped on the Ford's headlights.

  "Give me your gun, Ricky! Please!"

  "Why?"

  But I knew why.
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  Michelle turned in her seat so I could see her back. Her shirt was stained red all the way down to her butt and there were at least three holes in it.

  Holes torn by dead teeth.

  Michelle turned back and spoke slowly, "Give me your gun."

  Tears flooded my eyes. I wiped them away so I could drive. "No."

  "Ricky, please."

  "No."

  She reached between my back and the seat for Ernie's gun, which was tucked in the band of my jeans.

  I slammed the brakes.

  Michelle was thrown against the dash, smacking her head loud enough for me to hear it. In the trunk, a small body bounced off the back seat and moaned.

  Michelle groaned, rubbing her head.

  I hit the gas and drove one-handed so I could keep a firm grip on my gun.

  "Put your seatbelt on," I said. "We're going to Kirkman's."

  84

  "IT HURTS," MICHELLE SAID, WRITHING in her seat. Her eyes were cloudy the way Chuck's had been when he'd gone delirious before he turned.

  I didn't know how much time I had. Chuck was smaller than Michelle, but he'd been bitten only once on the wrist. Michelle was bitten multiple times closer to her vital organs.

  "Please kill me," Michelle begged. Her chest heaved in small spasms. "Don't let me become one of them, Ricky."

  "I love you," I said.

  "Don't let me... Ricky... Don't..." Michelle lay back against the seat and moaned in pain. She was losing coherence fast.

  The horde of dead was more than a mile behind us. I stopped the Ford long enough to reach across and put her seatbelt on.

  She clutched weakly at my wrists. "Kill me... you have to... shoot me in the..."

  I yanked out of Michelle's grasp, easily as she had no strength in her grip. Her eyes fluttered and she moaned.

  "Hang on," I said, speeding up.

  When we reached the intersection of Kirkman Avenue and Harrington Street, I turned left, but not before I saw the courthouse. Its exterior was limestone and mostly still standing, though chunks of it had fallen to the lawn.

  But its inside was burned out, leaving a husk of what had been: a building that should be ashes but somehow still stood.

  Michelle groaned.

  "Stay with me," I said, tearing down Kirkman Avenue. I had to slow to dodge a few empty vehicles, but there was no one in the street, dead or living.

  "I can fix this. I can make everything okay."

  Michelle fell silent.

  I set my gun down so I could shake her until she moaned.

  "We're almost there, Michelle. There's a cure. I know there is. There has to be."

  I shook her again.

  "Stay with me. I can make everything okay."

  Ahead, I saw the giant green billboard proclaiming "Kirkman Soda" in pink and beneath it the parking lot for the bottling plant. There were two tanks parked there and a dozen military vehicles surrounding them.

  I shook Michelle. She didn't stir.

  I aimed the Ford's hood between the military cars, toward the front entrance. Three uniformed soldiers stood behind a barricade, yelling at me.

  I couldn't hear them, but they were waving their arms.

  I sped up.

  The soldiers aimed their guns. Before I could hit the brakes, they opened fire.

  The Ford's front tires exploded.

  I experienced the weightlessness of zero gravity as the car flipped over the first time, but I hit my head and lost consciousness before the Ford's second flip.

  85

  "SO YOU LIKE ME, HUH?" Michelle whispered and giggled in my ear.

  "I like you a lot," I said. "You're my favorite person in the world."

  "That's because I'm the only person you know in the world."

  Michelle lay on her back and I lay with my head on her chest. The hard cement of Ernie's roof was less comfortable than a couch or a bed would've been and the moaning chorus serenading us from below wasn't the music I would've chosen.

  But in its way it was perfect.

  "I think I like you a lot, too," Michelle said and kissed me.

  "Ricky," she said when we broke. "Do you really think there's a cure?"

  "There has to be. And I'm going to get us to it."

  "You promise?"

  I kissed her. "I promise."

  And then we were lost in each other again, Michelle caressing my cheeks and neck with both hands, lightly.

  Then more firmly.

  Then so hard it hurt.

  86

  I OPENED MY EYES.

  Michelle's hands clutched at my face, her nails digging into my skin, struggling to pull me closer.

  She snarled.

  "No."

  She stared longingly at me, hungrily, through all-white eyes.

  "No."

  There was no Michelle in the dead girl hanging next to me and only her seatbelt kept her from crawling across the upside-down Ford, and biting into my flesh.

  "No."

  My ears rang.

  I wasn't sure how much of it was because I'd reinjured my head in the wreck and how much of it was because I was hanging upside down in the driver's seat and all the blood had rushed to my skull.

  My seatbelt cut into my chest and shoulder, but held me suspended.

  Despite the ringing, I heard the sound of dead hands pounding against the back seat and moaning coming from the trunk.

  I thought of the truck flipped over in the field we'd passed days ago with Mommy and Daddy in the front and an empty car seat in the back.

  I undid my seatbelt while doing a one-handed handstand. I fell as slowly as I could manage and flipped over so I sat on the Ford's roof.

  I scooted backward, out of Michelle's reach.

  "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

  "God, take it back. There's still time, God. Take it all back. You can do it. I know You can. Take it all back."

  "Don't leave me, Michelle. Not you. Everyone else, but not you. Don't leave me."

  And so we sat, my love snarling beside me, my little brother snarling behind, and me weeping.

  For there's no greater pain in heaven or hell hurts worse than being on my own.

  87

  "PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE air!"

  Slowly I turned.

  "Put your hands in the air right now! Put them up!"

  Two sets of black boots stood outside the Ford's window. Tucked into each were camouflage pants.

  I couldn't see the guns the soldiers were pointing at me, but I could hear in their voices that they had them.

  Michelle snarled sharply. I turned back to see a third solider crouched beside the passenger window.

  Michelle reached for him, struggling against the seatbelt that held her upside down.

  "We got a biter." The soldier aimed his machine gun.

  "Don't shoot!" I screamed, thrusting my hands in front of Michelle. "That's Gerald Kirkman's daughter!"

  "Who?"

  "Michelle Kirkman! She's Gerald Kirkman's daughter!"

  The soldier frowned. He lowered his gun and raised a radio transmitter from his belt.

  Michelle growled and clawed at the edges of the broken window.

  88

  "HOW'S YOUR HEAD?"

  I sat up. The movement made me wince. "It sucks."

  A blue candle on the desk he was sitting at was the only light in the office; shadows from the flames danced across Gerald Kirkman's face.

  "When the soldiers brought me in, there were lights."

  "We leave the lights on the main floor on," Kirkman said. "Everywhere else we use candles. There's plenty of fuel for the generators, but it's better not to use them for nonessential functions."

  "Where's my mother?"

  "With your brother."

  "And Michelle?"

  Kirkman's lips tightened. "She's safe."

  And then I asked the big question, the one I came here to ask, "Is there a cure?"

  Kirkman stared at me for a long moment as though trying to decid
e on the exact wording. "Not yet."

  I lay back in the cot.

  "We have medicine if you're in pain."

  "No medicine," I said. "Take me to see Chuck."

  "First I want you to tell me what happened."

  I sat up, swung my legs over the side of the cot, and nearly vomited. But I kept it down. I wasn't going to puke in front of Kirkman.

  "Take me to Chuck, then I'll tell you what happened."

  "I need you to tell me now!" Kirkman's eyes blazed with a fire other than the candle flame's reflection. "What happened to my daughter?"

  "You killed her."

  Kirkman made a sound that wasn't quite a yelp or a yell. He swallowed it and gripped the edges of the desk, breathing slowly.

  "Tell me what happened. Please."

  I told him.

  89

  WHEN KIRKMAN CAME BACK HE was pushing a wheelchair.

  I didn't ask why he had it or where he got it. I transferred myself from the cot to the chair and Kirkman wheeled me out of the office onto the main floor.

  We passed two soldiers, but otherwise the plant was empty. It was eerie to see all the machines and equipment sitting unused as though abandoned.

  The moaning chorus was so low, at first I figured it must be coming from outside. But as we approached, the moans became the telltale snarls indicating the zombies could see us.

  I couldn't see them, not until Kirkman wheeled me into the improvised medical laboratory. There were three steel boxes the size of semi-truck trailers, one side of which was made up of steel bars like a prison cell.

  The dead were in cages.

  Kirkman rolled me to the third box. Michelle reached through its bars, snarling at us. Beside her, Chuck did the same.

  Behind them was a third zombie I didn't recognize until she lurched closer and the light reached her face.

  "Oh no," I said. "Oh no, oh no, oh no."

  I clamped a hand over my mouth.