by Sean Kidd
CHAPTER 23
October 11th 11:05pm
I crossed the street and caught up to Chevy, giving him a slap on the back, “Hey Chev, you know I love ya, Man!” Chevy, still pissed off and a little embarrassed, looked over giving me that look. The one that let me know that everything was going to be okay. We walked for the next ten minutes and didn’t see anything. A light breeze had picked up and was blowing away some of the putrid smell. I stopped when I thought I heard something in the distance, “Do you hear that?” I whispered. Chevy tilted his head lifting an ear, “It sounds like a police car siren.” Chevy’s eyes widened, “Ty, maybe it’s your dad,” and he took a step toward the sound. “Wait! What if it’s not? I mean, that siren is a long way away, and we’re heading in the other direction.” Chevy drove his spear into the ground and leaned against it for support, “It’s your call, Ty. What do you think?” All the possible scenarios ran through my head. If it’s him, we’re saved. If it’s not, we’re twice as far from home, and who knew what could be waiting between us and that siren.
“I don’t know Chevy, the way I see it. It's risky. What do you think?” Chevy pulled his spear from the ground and pointed it toward the siren, “That police car could be five miles away, and it may not even be your dad in that car. If it’s not, then we’re stuck walking back here, plus another three miles to your parent’s house. I’ve got to be honest. I don’t feel like walking all that way on a hunch. I say we head right for your parent’s house, so your mom can make us food.” I didn’t have to think about that for very long. I didn’t feel like walking either, and hearing Chevy talk about my mom gave me a sudden urgency to make sure she was alright, “Let’s go see what mom’s making for dinner!” Chevy gave me a slap on the back, “I like the way you think!”
With that, we were off again.
We had an upcoming problem, and neither one of us wanted to talk about it. The only way to get to my parent’s house was to pass through the center of the city. Until now, our travels had been rather quiet. However, as we approached center city, screams, crashes, and scariest of all gunfire, seemed to be coming from the route we had to take. We didn’t speak much, listening to the sounds of death ahead of us. My insides were churning with fear, and I knew Chevy’s were too. The protection of our dark yards was giving way to lighted apartments and office buildings. Our casual stroll has turned into a duck and cover operation.
We didn’t stop, until our last house gave way to the final hurtle, the light polluted city parking lot, “What do you want to do?” I said, motioning to the lot. Chevy surveyed the scene already knowing what he’d see.
We drove by this parking lot every day, and we knew there was no way around it. The only thing between us and the lot, was the Saranac River. We stood at the foot of the bridge looking across. It was only a hundred feet across, but it was a wide open hundred feet that would leave us exposed and vulnerable.
“We don’t have a choice, Ty. We’ve got to cross the bridge and get through that lot. I say we go fast and hard!” Chevy said, as he glanced over looking for my approval. I gave him a nod and put my fist out. Chevy gave me a fist bump, and we were off running. We jumped over the white picket fence that surrounded our last protective yard. Once over the fence, we were in the street, and completely at the mercy of the city. I sprinted as hard as I could, barely keeping up with Chevy. Halfway across the bridge, I glanced over the railing and saw bodies floating. One of them was that of a young mother. She was floating on her back, clutching a dead baby she had wrapped in a quilt. The dead and rotting infant was glaring at me while it reached its arms out, clawing and smacking its gums together. Chevy screamed at me, “Come on! Let’s go. You can’t help them! They’re all dead!” When I looked ahead, Chevy was a good twenty yards in front of me and already over the bridge, heading toward the parking lot. I tried to speed up, but my legs were on fire. I couldn’t breathe. It must have been the extra weight from the pack slowing me down and making my legs hurt.
I watched as Chevy stopped at the edge of the parking lot, and dove head first into the runoff ditch. A few seconds later, I collapsed into the ditch next to him, fighting for every breath.
“Stop breathing so loud! There’s someone by that car!” I concentrated on my breathing and peeked over the top of the ditch. There wasn’t one person there, there was a small group of dead. They were crouched down next to a car eating something. I couldn’t tell what it was, “Chevy, what are they doing?” I asked, rolling onto my back again, still trying to catch my breath.
Without breaking his stare he answered, “They’re eating a girl.” Chevy turned away with disgust. I looked over again trying to avoid the death scene, “Do you think we could make it to that van?” Chevy propped himself up on his elbows and lifted his head over the side of the ditch, “If we can make it to the van without being seen, we should be able to stay low and run down the side of the street. Those cars will block us from those dead’s view. What do you think?”
“I’ll let you know in fifteen seconds!” Chevy said as he jumped out of the ditch and sprinted until he was behind the van. He hit the ground rolling and took up position against the van tire.
I looked at the group of dead again. They hadn’t seen him. I gave Chevy an okay sign with my fingers. I watched as he crawled around to the front of the van and stole a look at the group of dead. With the coast clear, he gave me an exaggerated “come on” wave. The dead were still devouring their meal. I couldn’t prolong it anymore. I climbed out of the ditch and sprinted across the lot. I didn’t slow until I was behind the van. I dropped to my hands and knees trying to catch my breath again. Chevy glimpsed around the front of the van and whispered “All clear.” We rounded the back of the van and headed down the row of cars, trying to keep low and out of sight. Even with the dead now, we cautiously crossed the gap between the cars. If they looked away from their rotting carcass, we’d be easily spotted.
The macabre scene of the dead’s feast made me want to vomit. Still moving, I turned my head forward in time to see a beer bottle in front of my foot. It was too late. Before I could stop, my foot kicked the bottle. It rolled a few inches and looked like it was going to stop, when it caught the decline of the parking lot, and gravity took over. The bottle rolled between the car tires and missed everything that could stop it. I was fixated on the bottle, unable to believe it was still rolling. We watched as the bottle coasted across the parking lot, underneath cars, around rocks, and not stopping until it struck the front of a dead man’s shoe. When we looked up from the bottle, the entire horde was standing and staring at us. They had lost interest in the girl and were looking for a fresher meal. Unlike Mrs. McCarthy, the dead in the group seemed to be moving faster. I watched as they got closer, petrified with fear.
“Hey!” Chevy screamed, to get my attention. “Run,” he yelled as he broke into a trot. I started running and didn’t make my third step when I saw Chevy go down, “It’s got me!” Chevy shrieked as he hit the pavement. An arm had come out from underneath a parked car and grabbed Chevy’s ankle. His momentum took him down like a sack of bricks. Chevy kicked and screamed but couldn’t get the hand to release his ankle. The dead man’s second hand grabbed onto Chevy, and he pulled himself out from under the vehicle and further up his leg. With his head in full view, I could see he was snapping his teeth at Chevy, trying to take a bite. Chevy was screaming, trying to work the hatchet out of his belt loop. His spear fell just out of reach. The dead man worked himself high enough to bite my friend. The dead lifted his head with his mouth open. He plunged his teeth down toward Chevy’s leg. Chevy pleaded for help. I unsheathed my knife and plunged it into the back of the man’s head in one swift motion. He collapsed on Chevy. I reached out to help Chevy up and watched as his open hand turned into a finger pointing behind me. I snapped around in time to see one of the dead, who had been feasting on the woman a few minutes earlier, was now trying to feast on me. He tried to tackle me. I put my hands up in time to grab onto his neck, and w
e both tumbled over backwards. He was on top of me now, growling and snapping his teeth together. His weight was too much, and my arms were weakening. I couldn’t hold him up any longer. I screamed as loud as I could. I was close enough to the dead’s mouth to kiss him, when I saw a barbecue fork penetrate his temple. I pushed the man off, and he fell to my side. Chevy held down the man’s head with his boot and pulled his fork out. He turned and extended an arm to help me up, “That sucked. Now get up, so we can kick some ass!”
Three of the dead were still coming across the parking lot towards us. Chevy pulled his hatchet out of the hammer loop on his pants and picked up his spear. I pulled my knife from the dead man’s head and gave him a nod. Chevy took three steps like an Olympic javelin thrower and hurled the spear into the mouth of the dead woman. She toppled over backwards and was dead before she hit the ground. Chevy screamed as he swung the hatchet, like he was splitting wood, burying the blade deep in the dead’s skull. The last dead was a woman who turned toward Chevy, paying no attention to me. I stepped up from behind and stabbed my knife through her ear, into her brain. She stopped moving, and I held my knife there as she slid off the blade. Chevy pulled the spear from the woman’s head and motioned me to move. We sprinted through the last fifty yards of the parking lot and turned the corner of a building, where we froze in our tracks.
There was a black police car up on the sidewalk, and the red top lights were flashing.
It was hard to see through the windshield with the glare of the lights flashing in our eyes, but I could see there was someone sitting in the driver’s seat.
Dad!
CHAPTER 24
October 11th 11:19pm
Sidara had been walking for what seemed like hours. The MOLLE vest was heavy and made her back ache. She could see the bright lights of center city and was heading in that direction. The screams grew louder and the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. Maybe this is a bad idea? She needed to find a place to hole up for a while. She stopped when she came across a huge Victorian that was sandwiched in between the post-war cookie-cutter houses of the 40’s. If it wasn’t for the Victorian in the middle of it all, this neighborhood could have been right out of a scene from, “Leave it to Beaver”. Someone, perhaps the owners boarded up all the windows on the first floor, obviously attempting to keep the dead out. Sidara was willing to bet that the occupants had left or died, considering the front door was now wide open. Being vigilant, she crept closer and pulled her Sig from its holster. After inching up the porch step, she stopped at the threshold, “Hello, is anyone home?” Silence was the only reply. She moved forward reaching for a light switch. She found one, flipped it on, and nothing happened, “Damn it! The powers out.” She rummaged through her MOLLE vest and pulled out a flashlight. The light clicked on and illuminated the hallway. It looked like no one had been here in months. Tiptoeing down the hall, she picked up on a stench that grew stronger with every step. An old wooden door stood at the end of the hall. Sidara placed her ear against it and listened. She reached down and grabbed the knob, slowly twisting it. Carefully, to be quiet, she pushed the door open a bit and released the knob. Sidara lifted the Sig and flashlight together, opening the door the rest of the way with her foot. The light lit up a living room that was connected to a parlor. She stepped into a vile waft of a malodorous brew. She flashed the light across room and smelled it coming from a man who was sitting on the couch.
“Hello, I didn’t know anyone was here. Are you okay?” He didn’t move a muscle. Sidara flanked the man, keeping her distance. As she circled to the front, she saw a large hole in the man’s chest. There was a .44 Magnum resting on his lap, still being clutched by his hand. I want that gun, Sidara thought to herself as she eyed the man’s hand cannon. She made her way through the rest of the first floor continuing to clear each room as she passed. Sidara went back to the front of the house and secured the insulated steel door. Walking back toward the living room, she stopped to grab an antique decorative chair. She closed the hallway door and wedged the chair under the handle. That wouldn’t stop any unwanted intruders who might be lingering upstairs, but it would certainly slow them down. Sidara headed back to the kitchen not forgetting to grab the .44 off the man’s lap. She held it up, twisting the cannon from side to side, amazed by its look and weight.
Feeling a gurgle in her stomach, she decided it was time to eat. She headed back into the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator door. She was smacked in the face with the smell of rotten food, and slammed it closed. “That smells worse than the guy in the other room!” She said out loud. The pantry was her only choice. She slid open the bi-fold door revealing a bounty of soup and canned vegetables, “Perfect!”
The next shelf had the crackers for the soup. Maybe this wasn’t going to be a bad day after all. She was about to step out with the soup and crackers when she saw an open step stool on the floor. Now why would you leave that there? She used it to look on the top shelf of the pantry, and was rewarded with an unopened box of Swiss cake rolls, “Jackpot!”
Sidara took a seat at the table and ate until she was stuffed. Even the smell wasn’t enough to slow her down. Her belly was starting to ache, she stood up against the wall, unbuttoned her pants and slid down until her ass hit the floor. This place was warm, safe, and dry. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.
CHAPTER 25
October 11th 11:23pm
I ran up to the police car’s window and banged on the glass. It had to be my dad. I was sure of it. I looked through the glass, the officer was bent over wearing his 8-point hat, and it was pulled over his face. I rapped on the window a few times, he snapped his head around slamming his face against the glass trying to bite me. The dead cop was still wearing his seatbelt and with his limited mental ability, he couldn’t figure out why he was stuck. Unable to remove it, the car would become his final resting place.
Chevy ran up behind me, “Is it your dad?” I shook my head no. I didn’t recognize the dead officer, but it was Unit 310. That was my dad’s police car. Chevy gave me a tug on my arm, “Ty, there’s a lot of shit going on here. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation why he’s in your dad’s car. We’re about a mile away from his house. Let’s hurry up and get there, and I promise you, you'll feel much better when you do.”
Chevy was right, that wasn’t my dad and any officer could have used his car. Maybe my dad wasn’t working, so they gave his car out to someone else. After a little self-convincing, I started to feel better. We turned up Bridge Street and hung a right on Margaret Street. We weren’t far away now.
We were in the middle of Court Street when we heard the rumble of a large diesel engine coming toward us. Chevy and I dove behind a parked car and hid there as the vehicle got closer. It looked like the same Humvee we had seen earlier. The guy wearing the wife beater T-shirt was still manning the fifty-caliber on the top turret. As the vehicle passed us, we heard screams coming from the back. Two girls came into sight, tied against the back cargo area. They were both screaming for help. I came up to a knee and peered over the parked car as the Humvee inched by us. I was trying to get a better look at the girls, but was careful not to be seen. Their feet were tied with parachute cord that secured them to the bumper while their hands were zip tied together at the wrist. A chain ran between two anchor points on the roof of the Humvee. The anchor’s intended use was for helicopter transport of the vehicle. Now the chain ran through the zip ties suspending the girl’s arms above their head.
A stocky man wearing a black cowboy hat and boots was sitting on the top of the Humvee with a rifle resting in his lap. The cowboy turned back to his buddy manning the fifty-caliber and said something that made them both laugh. The cowboy looked down at the two shrieking girls and swung his boot across the brunettes face, “Shut up you stupid bitch or I’ll boot ya again!”
The second girl with the blonde hair screamed back in protest, “Oh, big man, kicking a helpless girl in the face! Untie my hands and try that shit on me
and see what happens. You fucking pig!” The cowboy raised the rifle from his lap and pushed the barrel against the side of the blonde girl’s head. The cowboy drove the barrel hard enough, to force the blonde’s head against her shoulder, “Say it again, Bitch!”
The blonde didn’t make a peep.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought! Now you both keep your fucking holes shut or I’ll put another hole in your head!” The blonde hung there silently with her eyes closed. The cowboy pulled the rifle away and set it back on his lap. He turned back to his buddy and said something I couldn’t make out. They both laughed and I heard the cowboy throw out a, “Yee-haw!”
“Did you see that?” I said, maybe a little too loud, subconsciously hoping they heard me giving me a reason to kill them.
“Keep your voice down, Ty. They’ve got rifles, and we’re outnumbered.” Chevy stammered. I sat back down on the sidewalk, “We need to go kick those guy's ass! And why the hell are they taking girls?” Chevy held a single finger up to his lips, implying that I needed to keep my voice down to avoid detection, “We have a plan. Let’s stick to it. If we run out there now trying to help those girls, they’re just going to mow us down with their rifles. We’ve seen those guys twice now. It’s almost like they’re patrolling the city. The plan is get to your parent’s house, find your mom and dad, and arm up with every weapon we can find. After we do that, we’ll find those guys and smoke ‘em!” Chevy urged.
