by Shana Festa
Vinny was losing and had run out of money. He landed on Park Place, currently owned by Alfie, and couldn’t pay the rent. His attempts to barter failed and he was forced to forfeit. Alas, poor little Vinny did not go softly into that good night. He jumped up from the table and threw the dice across the room, all the while wailing, "It’s not fair" and throwing the most epic tantrum in Rossi history.
So it should come as no surprise that Monopoly won the majority vote on our first game night. I’m happy to report there was no crying.
* * *
The air was crisp with the promise of winter and the breeze did nothing to take the edge off. Meg and I were outside hanging laundry while Daphne hunkered down on the lawn tearing the guts out of her plushy toy. She had long since killed the squeaker and apparently wanted to finish the job. Little white puffs of fuzz circled her small frame and she had bits stuck to the top of her head.
A single gunshot sounded out. This was something we’d become accustomed to, only this sounded much closer than usual. Our bungalow was situated at least a half a mile from the closest barricade location. The shot sounded more like a block away. The three of us froze where we were, looking in the direction of the disturbance. My arms were over my head holding a wet shirt, one hand squeezing a clothespin open, ready to clip. Meg was bent at the waist grabbing for the next item to be hung. Seconds passed as we stood there and listened. The silence engulfed us again and we twittered nervously and hung the last items to dry. I called Daphne and we went inside, sitting rigidly on the sofa in an awkward and apprehensive silence.
Another gunshot pierced the silence, followed by another, and then we heard the sound of an M4 on burst. There was no question in my mind that they were coming from inside our safe haven. We both sprang into action, grabbing our own rifles and bug-out bags. I stuffed Daphne in the canine travel bag I’d liberated from the deserted dog bakery and slung Jake’s bag over my shoulder, noticing Meg doing the same with Will’s. We stood behind the front door and caught our breath. Hands shaking, I gripped the knob. My palms were slick with sweat and I had to wipe them on my jeans and take a few slow breaths in an attempt to calm myself.
"You know what to do?" I asked Meg. She shook her head. Fear was coming off her in waves. The whites of her eyes shone, pupils constricted, and she bit her lower lip in a futile effort to stop them from quivering. "Get to the boat. The others should be on their way. Do not deviate from the plan."
She shook her head again and repeated the plan back to me. "Get to the boat. Nothing else. I got it, Emma."
Inhaling a deep breath, I let it out as I turned the knob and opened the door. I laid my shoulder into the door as I opened it. In the event something was on the other side I was counting on that leverage to be able to slam it shut in a hurry. The street was empty; I had no idea if that was a good or bad sign. Outside, I could now hear screaming along with the sporadic gunfire.
"Go!" I shouted, and we took off at a jog down the street. I kept running, but of course I just had to look behind me and do yet another mental goodbye to a place I called home. Which was when I tripped over my own feet and went down like a sack of potatoes. My first thought was oh shit, I crushed Daphne. My second thought was OW! Pain swept across my chin and it felt warm and sticky.
Daphne was just fine. I had enough presence of mind to stop the fall with my face…not the dog. I could see through the mesh in the bag that she was shaking like a leaf, and I heard her whimpering. Meg helped me to my feet and I swiped a hand across my chin, immediately wishing I hadn’t when another jolt of pain nearly brought me back to the ground. I knew the damage was pretty bad but there was no time to think about it when a cluster of undead came into view.
A prone form lay on the ground in front of us. Encircling the body were no less than seven children emitting gurgly, bestial grunts as they ripped flesh from bone. A hand visible through a child zombie’s legs began to twitch and the group ceased their feasting, no longer interested in the reanimated corpse. The partially-eaten body of Nancy rose from the ground and stood towering over the children. I heard a strangled sob from behind me as Meg recognized our former friend.
The group started advancing on us and Gabby’s small body emerged from behind Nancy. Bright red blood oozed from dozens of small bites on her torso. Her left ear was separated from her head and hung loosely, swaying offensively as she shuffled forward. The nonslip rubber soles of her footie pajamas made a grating sound against the asphalt that could be heard over the grunts.
It felt like someone kicked me in the chest. My throat constricted, and I found it hard to breathe. I found myself rationalizing what I saw, but no amount of excuses or alternate explanations could explain away the hard truth: Nancy and Gabby were gone. When the group was within spitting range, we turned back toward the house and ran. Another group of undead were coming at us and soon we’d be boxed in on both sides and left with no place to run.
"Through the yards," said Meg, and she took off running. We emerged on the other side of the back-to-back homes and onto the next street. The reverberations of a massive fight were louder and from the sounds of things, the good guys weren’t prevailing. Still though, the scene through the next set of houses was worse than anything I could dream up. It looked as if more than half the residents had fallen and were already back up. I saw flashes of uniforms amid the fray, but couldn’t make out any features belonging to anyone I knew.
Men, women, and children I’d come to know over the last month were being eaten alive right before my eyes. Every direction I turned a new gruesome scene played out like a Romero movie—arterial spray here, intestines there. It all blurred into one giant mass of carnage with pools of blood so wide they merged. I became aware of Meg trying to drag me away, and I tried to clear my head by shaking it.
"Emma, pull it together. Run!"
* * *
Chapter 30
I See Right Through You
I could see the sun reflecting back from the water as we emerged from between the last row of houses. Bloody scenes were unfolding between our current location and the dock. Our only option was to run. Saving ourselves meant watching others perish. If I survived, I’d fight those demons for the rest of my days. We sprinted along the back of the row of houses, dodging outstretched hands as we passed.
One second I was speeding by the bottom half of a body and the next I was tumbling through the air and splayed out on the grass. The impact knocked the wind out of me and I couldn’t scream as I watched Meg get further away. My ankle was stuck, and when I turned my head, I discovered the severed torso of Dale Ellis. With a death grip around my leg, he used my jeans to climb his way up my body. I kicked out with my free foot and caught him on the cheek, effectively popping the eyeball that hung by a bundle of nerves still attached to its socket. This did nothing to stop his ascent up my legs. Somehow I flipped onto my back and grabbed Dale’s shoulders, using the length of my arms to keep his face away from my skin. He struggled to gain purchase on my chest. One of my hands slipped off his shoulder and dug into his open chest cavity. The harder he pushed, the deeper my hand sunk. With one vicious snap forward from Dale, my hand exploded from a patch of exposed rib and through one of the many wounds on his back, and I saw the sun through the new opening. Momentum carried him forward and his face was a hair length away from mine. The coppery scent of fresh blood on his breath wafted to my nose and I was able to shift my other hand from his shoulder and jam my elbow under his chin. My stamina began to wane, each second that passed found Dale inching closer to sweet victory. I let out a bellow rivaling a warrior charging into battle and gave a final shove. But I was spent. My arm shook with tremors and I had gassed out.
I could see Daphne trapped in the bag when I turned my head to dodge Dale’s teeth. She was barking ferociously and trying to find a way out. My next thought, as my elbow slipped from Dale’s chin, was that she would either die a slow death from starvation or become Dale’s, or my, next meal. Dale’s final plunge seemed to h
appen in slow motion. I saw every detail as he closed the space between us, and I focused on the single strand of hair slicked across his forehead, colored blood-red. I resigned myself to death and closed my eyes.
The bite never came, and in a flash of speed the weight of Dale’s body was lifted and I felt my arm slip back through his juicy chest cavity. I opened my eyes to find Adam standing over me.
"Are you bit?" He asked. His face was stricken with panic. His eyes settled on my chin and he let out a pained howl. With tears in his eyes, he raised his Glock and pointed the muzzle at my face.
"Stop! What are you doing?" I pled.
"I’m sorry, Emma, I won’t let you turn." He let out a gurgled sob and I saw his finger tighten on the trigger.
"I’m not bit. I f-f-fell," I stuttered out in a jumble. I could see realization dawn on him, and he gave a nervous sigh of relief, never taking his eyes from mine as if searching for the lie. He seemed to accept my answer and reached out a hand to help me up. Our hands never connected, because before our fingers brushed, an undead woman wrapped her arms around him from behind and bit into his neck. As she pulled away to chew, a spurt of blood from his carotid artery shot from the new wound.
"Adam!" I screamed. Getting to my feet, I made a motion to run to him. Before I could, I heard Jake yelling from behind me. He held me by the shoulders as I struggled in a futile attempt to rush to Adam’s aid.
"Emma, stop," he whispered in my ear. "You can’t help him now. You need to help yourself."
My eyes darted between Jake and Adam in disbelief. A loud shot rang out from behind me and I turned to see Seth standing beside Jake, the muzzle of his gun smoking. The zombie bitch that bit Adam was down, and Adam slumped to the ground, his hand held over his neck. I noticed the blood wasn’t coming out fast anymore; instead it pumped slowly between his fingers, the time between pumps getting longer and longer. His face was a pale, almost gray, color and I could see the fatigue of blood loss shutting him down at a rapid rate.
"I’m sorry. Please forgive me," came out of my mouth in a tone so hushed that I didn’t think he heard me. He gave a weak nod and his mouth formed a sad smile as he fell forward.
"Keep her safe, Jake," were the last words he spoke.
Seth shoved me hard toward the boat. "Go!" he yelled in my face like a drill sergeant, and Jake dragged me behind him, slowing only to pick up Daphne’s carrier.
The area was teaming with undead. At the end of the dock, Jake vaulted me onto the bottom deck of the houseboat. The rifle, still strapped to my shoulder, dug into my flank as I hit the deck and rolled onto my side. Will helped me to my feet; it seemed like someone was always helping me to my feet lately. I turned a slow circle and saw Meg on the padded white bench. Tracks from her tears stood out in stark contrast on her cheeks.
"I didn't hear you. I turned and you just weren't there anymore. I swear to God I tried to go back for you, but they wouldn't let me."
"I know, Meggy. It's okay, really. There was nothing to hear. You couldn't have known." My words seemed to relax her, like she was expecting me to blame her or be angry.
There was no time to reassure her, though, because the dock was slowly filling with the undead in their relentless pursuit. Jake ran for the wheel and started the engine. We pulled away only a few feet before we heard the engine going into overdrive.
The line was still attached, and the houseboat didn't have enough horsepower to tear loose the mooring. The crowd of ghouls was less than twenty feet from the boat, and once upon us they could tumble off the dock and invade or last bastion of respite.
"Seth! What are you doing, man? It's suicide!" Vinny was beside himself. Seth had stepped off the boat and was untying the coil of rope.
Vinny and Will each grabbed for wooden poles, the ones used to gauge depth, and ran to the edge of the boat. They began using the end of the pole to jab and push back the advancing crowd. There were too many of them to hold back and a good amount made it by them. I pulled the rifle from my shoulder and began taking shots. My arms still shook with fatigue, but I managed a few head shots. Still, my attempts were futile.
We screamed for Seth to jump back to the boat. He just looked up at us and smiled. A look of determination and resignation set in his features as the first of the undead bore down on him.
I stood with my eyes transfixed on Seth's shirt. Multiple wounds began flowing with blood, and the white T-shirt turned red.
I heard Vinny and Will still struggling to keep the majority at bay with the pole, but I couldn't take my eyes off Seth. To his credit, he didn't so much as whisper as they tore him apart. And he didn't stop unraveling the rope until it fell limply into the water.
"Go, you idiots," he managed between clenched teeth before he was pulled back and disappeared under a sea of writhing bodies.
Jake hit the gas and we began to pull away from the dock in earnest. Will yelped as his pole got stuck in the crowd and he was pulled forward into their eager embraces.
"No! Will!" Meg screamed as she barreled her way across the deck and grabbed for Will's legs. Her hands found no purchase, and she shouted his name as the distance between us and the dock grew.
I made my way to her and engulfed her trembling body in my arms. Vinny helped guide her to the bench seats, and we both held her as she was wracked with sobs.
* * *
Epilogue
I stared out the back of the boat at a dead Sanibel. There were many small fires blazing, but unlike those burning upon our arrival, these were flames of death. I unzipped the carrier and pulled Daphne onto my lap. She nuzzled into Meg, almost as if she, too, was trying to console her.
I thought of all that had been lost today. Nancy, Gabby, Dale, Adam, Seth, Will and likely six hundred others, and probably the last group of living we would see for a long time or perhaps ever. The Rossi clan was intact, and the price for our lives was steep.
That night we anchored in our old location. We would stay here until we recuperated from the emotional turmoil that plagued each one of us. Meg was understandably inconsolable. My pack contained a pretty hefty first aid kit. I made sure to stock up heavily with benzos and sleeping pills, knowing that if we ever needed the bug-out bags, we would need them. I gave her 5 mg of Xanax and she drifted into a fitful sleep shortly after.
Jake and I lay in bed, both of us staring at the ceiling and ruminating over the day’s events. Without taking his eyes from the ceiling, he told me what happened.
"There was this woman, Madeline. She lived on Sanibel with her husband and little girl, Fiona," he started. "Everyone just assumed her family was dead. That’s what she said at least. I met her once during patrol. She was walking home from dinner, and I knew just by looking at her that she wasn’t right in the head. She was skittish; kept looking back over her shoulder like she was being followed. When she saw me, she couldn’t look me in the eye."
I thought about that for a minute. "But, Jake, that could be said for most people nowadays."
He continued, "True, but there was something different with her. She was muttering to herself as she slunk away like a rat."
A long sigh escaped him as he prepared to tell the rest.
"This morning Lowell burst onto the base, bleeding from a nasty bite on his hand. He was patrolling when he heard screaming from Madeline’s house. By the time he got there and kicked in the front door, the screaming had stopped. He found Fiona tied up in her room. The only thing I can come up with is that she must have been infected during the outbreak."
He didn’t need to say anymore. It was obvious what had happened. Instead of putting her down, the grieving mother had bound and gagged her daughter and kept her hidden away.
"So, if she was tied up, what happened to Lowell?" I asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.
"Madeline must have gotten careless, or maybe she just didn’t care anymore. She had turned by the time he got there, and somehow she got the best of him. Lowell was starting to fade at this point, so it was hard to
get the whole story out of him."
"Jesus Christ, how did no one notice? It’s been months."
"Because she kept to herself and made people nervous. No one paid her any mind," he remarked.
This was a lot to digest, and half of it didn’t make any sense. "Wait a minute. The gunshot." I fought to make a thread of connection.
Jake looked at me questioningly. "I’m not following," he confided.
"Sorry," I said. "We were doing laundry and heard a gunshot. Just one. That must have been Lowell putting down Madeline."
He glanced at me for only the barest of seconds before looking away again. There was something he wasn’t saying, but I waited patiently for him to go on.
"It wasn’t Lowell. Well, it was, but he wasn’t the one shooting. It was me." I felt his body stiffen next to me and he cleared his throat. "I put my friend down. He was a good man, and he didn’t deserve to go out like that."
One stupid woman had started a chain of events that led to the demise of six hundred living people.
I turned my face to him. "Now what?" I asked.
He kept his eyes affixed upward and let out a long, deflated sigh. "I don't know, babe. Survive, I guess."
I nuzzled in closer and slung my arm over his chest. Daphne grunted her disapproval at being smushed between us and let out a sigh of her own. The flicker of an idea popped into my head, and I wondered how hard it would be to get to Boston. The longer I thought about it, the more determined I became. I needed to know what had become of my parents.
