She started the engine and pulled the shifter into drive. She slammed on the gas and the car shot forward, running down several corpses.
“Mom,” said Dalton. “What about Mr. Park?”
Angie gunned the engine and turned the steering wheel.
* * *
Park pushed open the door to the gas station and ran inside. The corpses behind filed in after him, moaning and reaching. It was dark inside. The power had gone out and the storm outside allowed for little sunlight.
He ran for the back of the room, hoping for a back door, a window, anything. He was quickly lost in the dark.
He felt around the back wall for a door handle. He found one but it wouldn't turn. It was locked. He heard the corpses behind him drawing close, moaning and hissing.
A familiar hiss came from his right and he felt a small corpse wrap itself around his leg. The girl.
“Shit!” he yelled, kicking her free of his leg. She flew off into the dark, slamming into something Park couldn't see. The kicking motion twisted Park around and he stumbled to one side.
The corpses pressed forward, backing him into a corner. He tried to bring up the rifle but there was no room. It was dark and their fingers closed on his clothing. My girls, he thought. Gotta get to my girls.
Suddenly the gas station lit up red. Crimson light from outside backlit the corpses into black groaning shapes.
The red light focused into taillights, racing toward the station. There was a huge crash and the wall exploded inward. Corpses groaned and splattered as Angie's car hurtled backward into the room. Park pressed himself against the wall. The car flew past him.
It came to a stop with the front passenger door nearby. It opened. Angie was leaning across from the driver's seat, holding open the door.
“Get in!” she yelled. “Now!”
Park raced to the car and climbed inside.
* * *
Angie straightened back up in the driver's seat as Park climbed into the passenger side and shut the door.
“Thanks,” he said.
“No problem,” said Angie, pulling the shifter into drive. “You'll just need to pay for any trunk damage.”
She gunned the engine. The car shot forward through the gas station. Two corpses stepped into view but were immediately knocked aside. The car bucked and rocked over debris and screeched its way back into the parking lot. Rain pounded onto the windshield and roof. Angie turned on the wipers but they did little good.
Angie spun the wheel to the right, barely avoiding the gas pumps. Corpses pawed at the car as it raced by, leaving bloody stains on the windows. The pounding rain quickly washed the blood away.
“You okay?” she said, steering the car back to the road.
“Yeah,” said Park, nodding. He put one hand on the dashboard for support as the car swayed from side to side, avoiding staggering corpses.
“Good,” said Angie. The car reached the road and she banked hard onto it. The back wheels of the car slid on the wet road and she nearly lost control.
“Mom, look out!” said Maylee from the back seat.
“I've got it Maylee!” she snapped, steering the car back straight. “I told you to stay in the car!”
She raced toward the exit. The freeway was close now. A few cars went by through the rain, but not nearly enough for this time of day. Angie was going close to 80 miles an hour.
“Mom, the things are gone! We're okay!”
Angie steered the car onto the exit, not slowing down. “I'll decide when you're okay!”
The car roared down the exit ramp.
“Mom!” screamed Maylee, real fear in her voice.
Angie slammed on the brakes as a semi raced by, inches from the car. The semi's horn bellowed in complaint. The car's tires slid in the rain for several more seconds before coming to a halt.
Angie opened the door and vomited onto the street. She panted and gasped, letting the rain run over her head. Her head spun and her body shook.
“Mom?” said Maylee.
“What is it, Maylee?” said Angie, still facing the pavement with the rain running down her cheeks.
“I never got to pee.”
Angie sighed and nodded. She straightened back up and shut the door. She looked at Park.
“You drive.”
Two
Ella bit her thumb and paced the Communications Office of Ashton Memorial Zoo. She didn't know where her mom was. She didn't know where her twin sister Lori was. She didn't like it. It made her nervous. Especially with the stories of what was going on outside.
She paced past screens, speakers and microphones. All shiny and new. She didn't know how they all worked but her stepdad talked about them constantly. The whole zoo connected. Everyone able to talk to everyone else.
So why couldn't she talk to Mom and Lori?
Caleb sat at the main desk. Caleb was a college student, working part-time at the zoo while he studied to be a vet. He was nice.
“Where are they?” said Ella, to no one in particular.
“With your dad,” said Caleb. He had short blonde hair and sideburns, and wore his zookeeper vest loose and wrinkled.
“Not my dad,” said Ella.
“Your stepdad, then.”
“You're a wealth of information.”
“Don't be a smart-ass, Ella,” said Shelley. Shelley also worked at the zoo. She was Caleb's girlfriend. She walked over to where Caleb sat.
“You're not my mother,” said Ella. “If you were my mother you'd look like my mother, and that's how I'd know you were my mother and not Shelley.” She bit her thumb and kept pacing.
Shelley gave her a look as she walked away. “Don't be rough on her,” she heard Caleb say to Shelley. “She's worried.”
“She's a weirdo,” said Tom, walking in from the attached breakroom full of Keepers. “Keeper” was short for zookeeper. It was a nickname most of them used. Ella knew Tom considered himself the unofficial leader of the Keepers. The only Keepers who didn't accept his leadership were Caleb and Shelley.
“And we're all fucking worried,” Tom continued. “Turn the outside cameras back on.”
Caleb shook his head. “No point.”
“Screw your point from behind, asshole,” said Tom.
Ella turned to Tom. “That sentence made absolutely no sense.”
“You don't make any sense, whack job,” said Tom. “You wrote Steve on the back of my chair. My name's not Steve.”
“First, Tom, it's not your chair, it's a chair that belongs to the zoo that you happen to like to sit in. Second, I know Steve's not your name, it's the chair's name. I can write Tom on you if you like.”
“Just keep away from me, weirdo,” said Tom. “I don't care if you are the boss's daughter.”
“Stepdaughter.”
“Whatever.” He turned his attention back to Caleb. “Turn the cameras back on, pussy. I wanna see more of the freaks. If we're stuck here, we might as well have fun.”
“Fun?” said Caleb. “Are you insane? My parents are out there!”
“I didn't see your parents earlier,” said Tom. “Are they all fucked up?”
“You know what I mean, Tom. Out there in the city. I haven't been able to reach them.” Caleb pulled out his cell phone and checked it. He frowned and put it back in his pocket.
“My grandma's in a nursing home,” said Shelley, wrapping her arms around herself and frowning at the floor. “I have no idea if she's okay.”
“Hey, dumbshits,” said Tom, throwing out his arms. “I just turned psychic! No one out there is fucking okay! It's just us trapped in the zoo and the crazy shit outside. We're all that's left.”
“You don't know that,” said Ella.
“It's obvious,” said Tom. “You get straight A's and shit, you should know better.”
“A's aren't straight,” said Ella. “They're sort of like triangles.”
Tom shook his head. “Fucking weirdo.”
A two-tone chime came from the speakers set around
the room. Bing-bong. Caleb spun his chair back to face the bank of buttons and dials.
Gregory's voice came from the speakers. Ella still called him Gregory, despite Lori's insistence on calling him Dad. Dad was an inaccurate label. An inaccurate name. And there was no socially-accepted label for her stepdad. Ella tried just calling him Stepdad from time to time. “Hello, Stepdad,” she'd say, but everyone said that was too weird, even for her.
“Good morning, Keepers,” said Gregory's amplified voice.
“Sir!” said Caleb, leaning into a microphone and clicking a button. “Sir, where are you?”
“Is that you, Caleb?” said Gregory. “How nice to hear from you. How are you doing this morning, young man?”
Caleb frowned. “Fine, sir, fine. But where are you?”
Silence came from the speakers for a moment. Ella and the others looked around at each other, puzzled. Tom rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.
Finally, Gregory's voice returned. “I'm afraid I cannot divulge my location at this present time. Things are ... complex. And dangerous.”
Ella walked over and pushed past Caleb. She leaned into the microphone. “Stepdad? I mean, Gregory? Where's Mom? Where's Lori?”
“Ella, is that you?” said Gregory's voice. “Thank goodness. I'm glad you're safe. The safety of you and your sister are very important to me.”
Ella sighed. “Where's Lori? Where's…”
“Lori's with me, Ella. She's here, she's safe.”
“Let me talk to her.”
“I can't right now, Ella. And I'm so sorry. She's not able to talk at the moment. She's had a terrible shock.”
Ella blinked at the microphone. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I'm afraid you're about to have the same shock too, Ella. I wish I could tell you in person but circumstances are preventing that. Please, sit down.”
Ella remained standing.
“Are you sitting?”
“No.”
“Please, Ella, sit.”
Ella sighed and moved one of the chairs back and forth, causing the wheels to squeak. She didn't sit.
“Are you sitting now?”
“Yes.”
And he told her. He told her how Mom had changed into one of those things outside. How he had barely saved Lori from her. How he had rushed Lori to the safety of the zoo and was hiding her until he was sure they were safe. Ella stopped hearing words. Her blood rushed in her ears and hot tears ran down her cheeks. Caleb and the others were silent.
“Mom's dead?” said Ella.
“Yes, child, yes. She almost got your sister, too. But I saved her. I'll save you too. I'll save all of you.”
Shelley walked over to put a hand on Ella's shoulder. Ella snapped her shoulder away, shaking violently. “Mom's dead?”
“Yes, Ella, yes. I know how you feel. My wife of all these years. Your mother. But I'm your father and...”
Ella leaned into the microphone and screamed, “You're not my fucking father! Give me back my sister!”
* * *
Angie sat in the passenger seat, watching the freeway speed by. The rain had let up somewhat. Park sat in the driver's seat, steering the car. Maylee and Dalton were asleep in the back seat.
“You're gonna have to sleep soon,” said Park.
“I know,” said Angie. “I just can't yet. I'm still shaking.”
They were both silent for a moment, driving through the gray rain.
“Look at that,” said Park, nodding out the window.
Angie looked and saw what had once been a graveyard. Every grave had been dug open, leaving a ragged and empty hole. “My god,” she said, quietly.
“What the hell is doing this?” said Park.
Angie shrugged, her shoulders aching. “I dunno. A virus maybe?”
Park snorted. “No. You know how hard it would be to dig yourself out of a grave? These things aren't much stronger than a living person would be. No way a virus dug them out of their graves.”
Angie watched the graveyard disappear past the window and listened to the click of the windshield wipers. She looked over at Park. “What are you saying?”
“This is a plague.”
“So like a virus, then.”
“No, not that kind of plague.” Park scratched at his beard, watching the road. “An old-fashioned, Bible-shit style plague. Locusts and shit like that.”
Angie turned back to the window, saying nothing. Way off in the distance, she saw a corpse stumbling alone through a field. It staggered from side to side, reaching at nothing.
“This,” said Park, “is a curse.”
They both fell silent. Angie laid her head against the cool glass of the window. Her head bumped along with every rough spot in the road, but she was too tired to care. She stared at the gray pavement going by.
“You asleep?” said Park after a few minutes.
“No,” said Angie, not moving her head.
“You should be.”
“I know,” said Angie. She lifted her head up and turned to look at the kids sleeping in the back. Her eyes lingered on Maylee. Park glanced at Angie, then back at Maylee. He turned back to the road.
“I know it's not my place,” he said, quietly, “but you sure give her a lot of shit.”
Angie looked at Park. Part of her brain felt like it should be angry at him for what he said, but she was too tired to muster it.
“It's not your place,” she said, almost at a whisper. She looked back at Maylee again for a moment, then turned back to face the road.
Angie sighed. “She turns fifteen in a few days.”
Park watched the road for a moment, then smirked over at her. “You worried about finding her a present?”
Angie smirked back. “Not that. I'm thirty, Park. My oldest child is about to turn fifteen. Figure it out.”
Park nodded. “You were fifteen.”
Angie nodded. “Yeah.”
“That doesn't mean she'll do the same thing.”
“I know. But it doesn't matter.”
And they were both silent again. Angie laid her head back against the headrest. She closed her eyes and focused on the rocking of the car.
Angie sits crying on the living room floor. She hears Dalton wailing in his crib. Maylee is asleep in her room, Angie thinks. Then she berates herself for being stupid. How can a kid sleep through all this screaming?
Jake stands with his hand on the doorknob. He has his coat on and his car keys in his hands. Their car keys. They only have the one car. He looks down at Angie without expression.
“We're done,” he says. “I'm sorry.”
“Fuck you you're not sorry!” screams Angie, sobbing. “If you were sorry you wouldn't be doing this!”
“Whether I'm sorry or not, this is what I'm fucking doing. I can't take this. I can't take the sobbing kids, our crappy lives or you. I'm done.” He turns the handle and opens the door.
“What the hell are we supposed to do?” Angie says. She has no job and no experience. She's never worked. She and Jake married while she was in high school. He always worked. Angie stayed home. That's how they'd planned it. That was what their lives were going to be. They'd stayed up nights talking about it, before Maylee was even born.
“Whatever the fuck you want,” says Jake. “That's not the point. The point here is that I don't care, Angie.” He opens the door and walks out. Angie sobs as the door slams shut. Dalton wails from his crib and Angie somehow knows that Maylee is awake and listening.
She realizes she's dreaming and anger floods through her. Now-Angie is furious at Then-Angie. Get up, she wants to scream. Quit crying! She realizes that since this is a dream, she can change things if she wants. She can revise history so she gets up, chases Jake down and punches him in the face. But she knows there's no point. No point to playacting with herself in her sleep.
She stares through her Then-eyes at the floor. The stained carpet. The messy room. Chaos. She's never felt so out of control. Helpless.
No,
thinks Now-Angie, blinking Then-Angie's eyes. Never Again.
Angie jerked awake and pulled up from the headrest. She looked around, disoriented. The landscape outside had changed from farms and truck stops to strip malls and fast food.
“We're closer,” she said, rubbing her eyes.
“Yep,” said Park, steering the car. “You got a good hour there. Feeling better?”
Angie nodded.
“Good,” said Park, smirking at her. “Don't want you yakking on me.”
Angie said nothing, staring out the driver’s side window. “Oh my god.”
The other side of the freeway, the side leading away from Ashton, was packed full of unmoving cars. Two unending lines of stopped cars, stretching back and ahead as far as Angie could make out.
“Yeah,” said Park. “Been like that for miles.” He nodded at the road in front of them. There were just a few cars ahead of them, moving at roughly the same speed they were. Other than that their side was empty. “We're all the only ones stupid enough to be headed to Ashton.”
Angie glanced back to the kids. Still asleep. She turned back to face the road. “Must be bad there.”
“I think the theme of today is that it's bad everywhere.”
Up ahead, on the other side of the freeway, a car broke away from the others and raced across the grassy strip dividing the two sides. It drove up onto their side and down the wrong direction, toward their car.
“Shit!” said Park, wrenching the wheel to one side. They swerved and the car raced by them, speeding the wrong way down the freeway. The cars in front of them swerved back and forth. “Asshole!”
Angie and Park had seconds to notice that a truck had followed the first car.
“Goddammit!” yelled Park, slamming on the brakes. The truck collided with one of the cars up ahead. Glass flew across the pavement as the car and truck spun around each other. A few spins and they stopped, steam rising from both engines. Park turned the wheel hard and the car skidded sideways, stopping inches from the wreck.
Ashton Memorial Page 5
