THE TELL-TALE ZOMBIE
By:
Edmund de Wight
Published by Ionosphere Press at Smashwords
Copyright © 2018 Edmund de Wight
Cover image: © Darkrider92 | Dreamstime.com
For more information about the author, and to read the author’s blog, please go to:
http://edmunddewight.com
or follow on Twitter: @EdmunddeWight
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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
****
Always, for Sarah.
The zombies were all dead - really dead this time. Less than a year ago the five mile hike to the neighboring enclave was life endangering. Today she strolled without fear toward her home after trading two dozen fresh eggs for three pairs of new pants.
Old habits die hard. She scanned every rusting car, and every crumbling doorway in each burned out building. Every shadow was a hiding place for one of the dead. Her belt held the well used tomahawk and the pistol she had taken from a dead cop so many years before. The grips of both weapons were worn smooth from constant use during The Troubles.
She chuckled as the newly minted name describing the prior nine years sprang to mind. Humans are a resilient bunch. It had always been the way of the world to remember the past in a better light. The horrors are minimized and the good times amplified in memory. If there were only bad times, people referred to the past in a less disturbing way. What had once been the Zombie Apocalypse became the less horrifying The Troubles.
The last of the dead were officially destroyed just over eleven months ago. Everyone Demi knew still kept watch and started at shadows. The world still carried the reek of corruption. The smell of the dead, burned buildings, decay, and rot would cover the world for years to come. The world was a corpse. New life now sprang from its soil but it would never feel alive again for those who lived through The Troubles. The scent of death drifted on every stray breeze. Every shattered building was a reminder of death. Demi's hand dropped to a weapon with each new smell, each shift of rubble. Every moan of the wind moving over broken pipes and through desiccated trees caused her to look for a shambling figure. Those threats were finally gone, or so they said.
Demi hitched her backpack higher and shook off her dark thoughts. The sun was shining, a bird - an actual live bird - was singing. Life was returning to the world. It was almost a pleasant hike back to Sunset Acres, her enclave.
Some walled communities had been built as havens for residents to feel elite and separate from the common man. Other walled communities were built to defend against the criminal elements of society. It was ironic that they would be turned into fortresses to protect the surviving members of the human race.
She always hated the name Sunset Acres but it was on the sign which had graced the gated community. Nobody was going to waste time worrying about a stupid sign when the dead were attempting to kill them on a daily basis. Now the dead were finally at rest, but no one could spare time from rebuilding. The name remained even though it made Demi feel that she was living in a retirement community.
A new scent drifted to her - smoke. Demi stopped and raised a hand to shade her eyes as she scanned the horizon. There, to the north, a column of thick black smoke; someone was having a funeral. Cremation was the final solution to keeping the recently departed in their graves. The first few months after the last zombie horde was put down, the sky was black with the smoke of mass cremations. Every body had to be burned to ash and the bones ground to dust to guarantee there would never again be a rising.
Demi went to a funeral outside the Desert Inn enclave three months ago. A man she knew had died of a heart attack and she along with one of two others from Sunset Acres had been invited. Humans love their ceremonies. Even when the world fell apart the drive to do something meaningful to mark loss remained. The entire population of the Desert Inn enclave and a handful of guests marched in a long procession from the man's home. They carried the body outside the fortifications to a spot several blocks away. The chosen funeral location had once been a house not unlike Demi's own ranch style but it was outside a walled community. It had been ransacked by looters and zombies until it was a mere shell of a house. New Federal laws mandated cremation within 72 hours- the time when those who died would rise from the dead. During the first 48 hours after the man's death, community members had demolished the walls and roof. The tiny home became a rectangular platform piled high with wood. Six men carried the body to the center of the stacked debris and two women doused everything with fuel.
A member of the enclave said a few words and then lit the funeral pyre. Demi and the mourners had stood in respectful silence until the fire engulfed the platform. The bulk of the mourners departed to weep, speak of good times with the deceased, eat and drink. A small handful had remained behind to ensure that the body was reduced to ash. It had been a beautiful funeral.
Demi pushed thoughts of death from her mind and continued her hike. Twenty minutes later the battered and stained sign for Sunset Acres came into view.
"Afternoon Charlie," she called to the sentry stationed above the gate.
"Hello yourself pretty lady." He leaned on the wheel used to open and close the reinforced gate.
Charlie was a red headed man with a moon shaped face and a trim beard which hugged the contours of his face. It made him look softer and fatter than he was. Nobody was fat after surviving The Troubles. Demi had known Charlie and his family for years. They were friendly but she preferred to keep them at a respectful distance.
"Been out shopping?"
"Barter over at Lone Pine; got a few really beautiful pairs of pants in trade for some eggs."
"Good for you. Hey, Linda was wondering if you had any more of that mint in your garden. She'll gladly trade you a jar of preserves for some."
Demi waved a hand in dismissal. "She can have it for nothing, Charlie, you guys are friends."
"Thanks. I'll tell her to drop by."
Demi stopped in her tracks and stared at Charlie as if he were some strange insect.
"Um, I'll bring it over. Seffie still isn't feeling well and I wouldn't want her to be disturbed."
"That's a shame. You tell that little girl to get well soon; we haven't seen her in forever. I know Tracy would love to see her again, she misses hanging out with her friend."
"Thanks Charlie, I'll bring the mint over before dark. Have a quiet shift."
Demi gave a jerky wave and hurried away before Charlie could press for more. She liked the man well enough, but she needed to get home to her little girl.
Demi's house was a long, low rectangle with blue and white siding and bars on every window. Security bars graced every home that survived The Troubles. She unlocked the door and then slipped inside, locking it behind her.
"Seffie, I'm home," she called into the silent house.
Demi shrugged off her pack and withdrew the trio of handmade pants. They actually were as lovely as she had told Charlie. Each was sturdy cloth, dyed with bright colors and fanciful stitching. Bill Worthington was an artist as a tailor. His creations were well worth the hike to Lone Pine. Demi considered two dozen eggs a pittance for such workmanship. She draped the pants over her arm and walked through the house. She'd show them to Seffie before putting them away. Maybe the pretty colors would perk her up.
&nbs
p; "You should see the beautiful pants I got. Oh and Charlie said that Tracy misses you."
Demi reached her daughter's room at the far end of the hallway and fished a key from her pocket.
"Someone was having a funeral."
She opened the large padlock which held the door shut.
"I don't think it was anyone we knew."
Demi opened the door and looked around the dim room. Seffie sat on her bed near the far wall. Her long blonde hair hung in disarray around her face as she sat hunched over. Something dark stained the pretty blue jumper Demi had dressed her in.
"Oh honey, you wrecked your dress again," Demi said.
Seffie's head snapped upward. Eyes the color of tar starred at Demi. There was no differentiation within the eye. The pupil, iris, and sclera were all an inky black. Her skin was a sickly gray-green. Black lines traced the path of her veins. Seffie's lips were cracked and dry. Black drool oozed from her mouth and dripped down to join the line on the front of her dress. The girl stood and lurched toward her mother, a chain looped around her waist soon stopped her. She clawed the air mere inches from Demi's face.
"Persephone Anne Floros, be nice or there won't be any treats later,"
Seffie lowered her arms and stared blankly at her mother. Demi smiled at her daughter. She didn't see the vacant stare of the risen dead; she saw an ill little girl. When Seffie had become ill six weeks ago Demi had soothed and cared for her child through the raging fevers, convulsions, and physical changes. Seffie wasn't dead during the change; Demi was sure of it. She checked her daughter's breathing and pulse throughout her sickness. Seffie had never encountered a zombie; she couldn't have contracted the virus. As the black tendrils of the virus spread across her body and her skin changed color Demi knew her child's heart was beating. It was just an illness that mimicked the zombie plague. Seffie would recover and heal. When Seffie became violent Demi blamed the fevers and restrained her daughter for her own safety. Demi had not checked her daughter's heartbeat for almost a month. She was a mother; she knew that a brave heart still beat within her daughter's chest. Seffie listened to her; she calmed when Demi spoke to her. This was evidence enough that her daughter still lived and could be healed. Seffie was not like the mindless, undead creatures which had killed Demi's husband. She was just a sick little girl and Demi needed to give her time to recover.
@@"That's my girl," she said and stroked Seffie's hair. "Look at my new pants."
Demi held up her newest acquisitions. Seffie stared at the pants with unblinking slack-faced indifference. Demi inspected the stained material of Seffie's dress; there was no way that dark stain was going to come out.
"Don't worry about your dress honey; I'll get you a new one on my next trip."
Demi draped the pants over her shoulder, touched her child's head once more. She left the room and secured the door behind her.
Demi went to her own bedroom, so empty the last thirteen months since Harry had died. An all too familiar tightness gripped her chest at the thought of her dead husband. He had almost made it to Victory Day. If he could have lived one more month he would have seen the end of the zombies and would be here with her. Harry couldn't allow the other men to do the hunting alone. He needed to feel like he was helping cleanse the world. Hunting the undead in the final months should have been safe. The Army was doing the bulk of the work. Men like Harry were there to check for any stragglers the Army missed. It was safe work he told her; locate the occasional lone zombie, shoot it, burn it. Simple work, until that one zombie had caught him by surprise. Demi had not been able to see her husband; his infected corpse had been destroyed on the spot.
Tears blurred her vision and she collapsed onto the bed. She wept as she had wept every day since she was left alone.
###
Demi's eyes fluttered open. She left behind a beautiful dream of a picnic with Harry and Seffie. She blinked myopically into the gloom of the room, unsure where she was for a moment. Her eyes snapped open and she sat bolt upright. The sun was going down; she should have gathered the mint for Linda already.
Demi leaped from the bed and raced to the garden behind her home. The chickens were in their coop for the night, and shadows blanketed the planting beds. She dug up an entire mint plant; this would keep Linda from asking for more in the future.
She brushed dirt from her knees and rushed through the house to the front door. She opened the door and recoiled at the form standing there with fist raised.
"Jesus Christ Linda, you scared the hell out of me."
"Sorry Demi. I figured you were probably busy so I decided to drop by and save you a trip. I assume Charlie told you about the mint?"
Of course Linda, the eternal busy body, decided she couldn't wait and came by. Demi held out the small potted plant and forced a smile. She glanced over her shoulder. She could see that Seffie's door was secure at the end of the dark hallway. She took a half step forward thrusting the plant before her. Linda was forced to step back and Demi used the space to move through the door. She closed it quietly behind her.
"Seffie is resting; I don't want to disturb her."
"Oh, the poor dear," Linda's smile faltered. She honestly cared for her daughter's best friend. The constant enquiries were a source of concern for Demi.
"Has Doc Wilson figured out what's wrong with her?"
"He said it was a stubborn case of the mumps. Nothing life threatening, but she needs to stay in bed. She could get worse or make someone else sick otherwise."
The lie came easily to her lips. She had thought long and hard about a plausible excuse for her daughter's disappearance. It had to be something severe enough to warrant quarantine, but not enough to raise alarms.
"Oh my." Linda’s expression was a combination of horror and sympathy. "Good thing you've kept her in bed, you're such a good mom. Charlie never had the mumps you know. I remember hearing that if an adult man gets the mumps it can be really bad."
"So I've heard. Well, here's your mint. How about I walk you home and we can chat on the way?"
Linda took the pot and nodded dumbly. Demi locked the door and lead Linda away from the house.
"So what are you and Charlie doing for the Victory Day anniversary?"
Linda instantly brightened. "We're going to have a barbecue. Charlie traded for a suckling pig. I've talked with a couple of our other neighbors about coming. We're going to make it a block party; you should come."
"That sounds fun. I could bring some of the tomatoes from my garden if you want."
"Perfect," Linda gave her a hug. "This will be so much fun."
Demi relaxed; Linda seemed to have completely forgotten about Seffie for now.
###
Morning always came much too soon for Demi. The sun peeked through the mini-blinds of her bedroom waking her to another day of drudgery and loneliness. She and Linda talked well into the night and had a few cocktails from Charlie's alcohol stash. Several hours of friendly banter should keep Linda deflected for a while. The blurred vision and pounding head made Demi regret accepting the drinks. It had been years since she had imbibed; she wasn't used to it.
A loud bang from outside brought her fully awake. Demi sat up to the accompaniment of a stabbing pain in her head. Was someone outside?
Another clatter reached her ears; someone was definitely wandering around outside. Demi grabbed her tomahawk out of habit and peeked out the window. There, toward the back of the house, a shadow moved around the corner of the structure. Demi staggered from her bed and raced toward the door.
Outside, she secured the front door and crept along the side of the house. She moved carefully along a row of lettuce growing on the sunny side of the house. A harsh whisper reached her ears as she crept further into the yard.
"Sef? Why won't you talk to me? I see you standing there. Did I do something wrong?"
Demi reached the corner of the house and peeked around the edge. Linda's daughter Tracy balanced on a five gallon bucket outside Seffie's window. She wobbled
on her perch as she peered intently at the window. Demi thanked God that she had the forethought to tack a sheet over the window on the inside. The most Tracy would see was Seffie's shape moving in the room.
"Tracy Grant, what do you think you're doing?"
The girl let out a squeak and slipped from the bucket, almost falling onto her butt.
"Seffie is very sick and shouldn't be disturbed. Does your mother know you're sneaking around my house?"
Tracy glanced left and then right like a cornered animal. Muttering a barely audible "Sorry," she sprinted away like a deer fleeing a hunter.
"Damn," Demi said, watching the girl flee.
She moved the bucket back to the garden supplies and checked Seffie's window. The window was still closed and undamaged, her secret was still safe.
###
Demi woke to a knock at the door. She rubbed sleep from her eyes as she staggered through the house. Another triple knock sounded as she plodded across the living room.
"I'm coming already, keep your pants on."
She unbolted the door and slipped the chain. She opened the door enough to peek through while hiding her pajama clad body behind it. Linda stood with her hand raised, prepared to knock again. She had an intense look of worry on her face.
"Demi, I wanted to come over and apologize."
"What?" Demi blinked in the early morning light. She was not awake enough for a Linda encounter.
"Tracy told me that she was sneaking around your house yesterday and that you caught her. She knows she was wrong and I wanted to let you know how sorry I am that she bothered you. She just misses Persephone. She's been so long without her best friend and I was thinking even if she could just visit and say hello it would mean so much -"
"That's impossible. Doc said that she's still contagious."
"Demi, it's okay. Traci had mumps two years ago so it would be safe; she can't get them again."
The Tell-Tale Zombie Page 1
