Afterlife #1
Home Again
by Cai Lonergan
© 2017 Cai Lonergan. All rights reserved
[email protected]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 1
The bumper rattles as my car awkwardly lurches over a small pothole. It probably came loose after I avoided that girl. Damn parking structures. She was so small, I couldn’t...what else was I going to do? I cough, and swerve around another body in the road.
I know what I'm going to do. I slow down the car, pop the door, lean out and vomit.
Ew. I breathe in and out, failing to gain control over my own body. I spit out the offending taste, but the smell of bile and stomach lining will be in my nose for hours. Gross! No! Gross! I punch the wheel and a quick horn blast broadcasts my location to the world.
Instinctively, I hunch down in the driver’s seat. After a few seconds, I manage to pull myself together and scan the hill to my left and the fields on my right. No one. Wait. One, cresting the hill. Don't freak out.
I breathe out, turn the ignition and continue north.
After a while, I turn on my phone. A small alert cheeps frantically and I scan the message. Old news.
The government would like to inform me of a developing emergency across the country. I guess all those backdoors were built into our phones. Yes, there's a zompocalypse. No, the government can't really help.
My teachers and a lot of my friends were eaten. Not "bitten," but attacked and devoured as elk to wolves.
I was assured by text messages and YouTube that federal authorities were mobilizing troops and executing prepared countermeasures(guess we were all watching the same movies), but all I've seen for the past five days are more of them and less of us.
I locked myself in a store for two of those days, but there were windows and the situation looked degenerative. I hope I'm muddling through the dark before the light.
My phone rings and I jump a mile and the car swerves.
"OH-who!" I hiss. Slowing to a crawl, I pick up my phone but continue down the road. There have only been three other cars on the road all day, and I need to get home. I flip the tassels off the screen and hit answer.
"Honey? Angie, is that you?"
My heart speeds up.
"Mom? Are you okay? I called you-"
"Hello? Hello, Angie?"
"Ugh, mom."
"Hi! Angie?"
"HELLO MOM HOW ARE YOU?" I loudly and flatly intone.
"You know I don't think that's funny, Angela." my mom scolds.
"OhmyGODmom! Zombies! There are zombies! Are you and dad at home?"
"No, no, no. We left yesterday, we're going to Kansas."
I slow down the car and park.
"Hello? Hello, Angie?"
I clear my throat. "What-mom? Where are you and dad?"
"I told you, Kansas! We have a rental property there, it was going to be a surprise vacation for all of us, your father thought it would be a good idea." She snorts into the phone at her idea of a joke. I can hear my father begin to extol the virtues of the Sunflower State.
"Mom-"
"There are too many guns in Arizona. We have Ritchie."
"What!? Why didn't you tell me? I-"
"Stay at the school, An-" her voice cuts off and I can't hear anything else. I listen for a few more seconds even though I know the line is dead. That’s the only conversation I’ve managed to have in over a week.
During the lockdown, I had managed to reach my parents for a short conversation. They said that the National Guard had shut down most high schools in our area and all the students were being detained indoors and quarantined until a thorough medical screening was completed. Apparently, everyone was under house arrest.
So Richard was being held the same way I was. But I never saw any doctors, and I went looking for Richard after I escaped the school. I couldn’t reach my parents by phone and when I finally made it to the school, there were no adults. There were some children...she was so small...
I can't believe this. "What the hell? Kansas?” I glance out the windows as my eyes begin to sting. I’m sixteen years old and my mom made me cry. A couple of zombies are making their way through the field on my left toward my car, so I quickly forgive myself.
They're not fast, but they don't exactly stagger on every step. It looks almost exactly like they're walking, which makes sense, I guess. Maybe a meandering step here and there, but for the most part they look like two normal people making their way across the field.
Not entirely normal; the one on the left doesn't have much of its left arm still attached.
"Aw, he's all right now!" I croak, and cough.
I sigh. "Okay, Kansas, okay, Kansas, okay."
I start the engine and then jump as a loud THAM comes from my left. I scream as the monster on my side of the car wiggles his hand through the crack in the window I had left open. The gap was only a couple of inches wide, which turns out to be plenty of room for a hand, even one missing its fingers and thumb.
I jerk away from the bloody mess and push the accelerator down. The car leaps forward and the finger stumps trail down my left shoulder and arm. I have to pull the wheel to the left in order to avoid running off the road. I swerve wildly and bring my car under control as I alternate between hyperventilation and tiny screams. "Oh no, oh no, no."
I continue down the road, stealing glances at the blood on my arm and expecting it to start melting through my skin. I frantically wipe the blood off on my seat upholstery and calm down a little when I don't see any broken skin from the bony claws of that ghoul.
Suddenly a man steps into the road and I have to use my rapidly improving skills as a driver to swerve around him. I’m all NASCAR these days. Until the gas runs out.
The man waves a bloody arm as I speed by. Was he talking? Is he surviving? No. I’m sorry, I don't understand what's happening and I am familiar with the road that good deeds take you down.
I try calling my mom back and receive the helpful, familiar message that due to a national emergency, telecommunications will be limited at and for unpredictable intervals.
I scream in frustration and shove my phone out the window, then immediately hit the brakes. What was that? Am I crazy? Have I become a crazy person?
"Think, think.”
After I scan my surroundings, I scramble quickly to retrieve my phone, which is at least an emergency compass with GPS. It hasn't been damaged, so I power it down and toss it onto the seat next to me. I wonder at the pink AirPocket case from my mom and briefly feel a moment of gratitude before tearing up again at the thought of being abandoned.
I'm fifteen minutes from home and my parents are on their way to Kansas! That's, what? 200 miles? 300? I check the map on my phone and am reminded how big my country is.
I have no idea which part of Kansas their rental property is on or why they would leave our comfortable house to drive to an unknown property.
Then I see the smoke.
I groan as I exit the tunnel of pine leading into my neighborhood. Half of the houses are encouraging the other half to burn. I can see two zombies calmly strolling in front of the flames. One has a rictus smile in place, which makes me eager for a bout of spiteful and unfair road rage.
I calm myself down. I won't b
e going postal. The car is much too valuable and each dent in it only benefits them.
None of them have noticed my car yet, so I back up, pull over to the side of the road, roll up my window and turn off the engine.
I roll up my left sleeve where Ol’ Stumpy left faint traces of brown, oxidizing blood. I poke around to assure myself that my skin is intact and then sigh with relief. Good. I do not need that.
I pull down on my right sleeve and look at the painful, purple teeth marks in my right shoulder. One bite is enough.
CHAPTER 2
I consider the bite mark on my shoulder for a few seconds and then let my collar slide back into place, hiding my horror.
All of the hospitals I passed were abandoned. There was one federal medical checkpoint, but I was too scared to ask for help. I’ve been locked up before.
Besides, I've seen what happens when people are bit. I know they change. I know...we change. I don’t want to change.
Where the hell in Kansas was my mom talking about?
I try to use my cell phone again to contact Mom, but receive the same negative federal message as before. Same result with a text message. I turn off the phone and examine my neighborhood. Dozens of small pockets of smoke and a few crackling fires.
There might be some clue as to where my parents are heading if I can get back to our house. I can see the first story roof and the top couple feet of my house in the middle of my neighborhood. My bedroom and the bathroom on the second floor are visible, and I don’t see any fire or smoke.
My house doesn't seem to have caught fire, although the house next to it is blazing.
The Kansas address might be inside the house, but it might not. Of course, if I don't look, the chance of locating my family is slim to nil, favoring nil.
I look at my neighborhood on fire, then at the clear road and green trees behind me. An encouraging lack of fire behind me.
Then I remember the escape from my classroom and-
"Zombies suck. There, I said it. That's right, folks, ha haHa-" my throat seizes harshly and I cough. Leaning forward stretches my shoulder painfully. I touch it lightly with my fingertips. It feels like any large bruise; maybe it will start healing soon. Five days now and I feel like the mark is getting larger.
I sigh. Dark before the light, right? Bruises are like that. They expand and then heal, right?
I only have to suffer a few teeth marks because I ran past my friends. They needed help and I ran away.
Rictus is walking back along Third, the nearest street between me and my neighborhood. The road runs perpendicular to the road I’m sitting on. I don't recognize the horrible, ecstatic face of the monster as anyone in my neighborhood.
"Walking the beat? Hm." I cough quietly and stare at the houses behind Rictus.
If I drive to my house, there is all the chance that Rictus will ignore me after I leave him a couple streets behind.
There could also be a horde of the beasts waiting for intruders, closer to the center of my neighborhood. Any impacts could mess up my car and I don’t even know how to change the oil.
If I walk, slipping in and out of the neighborhood will probably be a lot less hassle. Unless, you know, they eat me.
There aren't any zombies in the trees around me that I can see and Rictus doesn’t seem very aware of his surroundings.
Trying not to hyperventilate, I pull the door handle and push the driver’s side door open. I watch and listen but only notice trees on the other side of the road. I step out of my car, close the door and make sure I lock it.
I have to move quickly to take advantage of the trailing light dusk will afford me, but I can’t help thinking that something is going to jump on me now that I’m outside of the car.
I jump a foot in the air at a small skittering, then see a large, brown leaf scratching over the asphalt in the breeze. A leaf. Geez. I am on edge.
Nothing is moving around me. Nothing I can see, anyway. Shuddering slightly, I walk in a crouch around the car to the right side of the road and walk along the sandy shoulder.
Rictus suddenly walks into view from about fifty yards ahead and I startle, taking an involuntary step to my right and sliding down the side of the raised road until I bump into a tree.
Rictus doesn’t notice my less-than-graceful dismount and casually walks down the road in front of my neighborhood. I make my way slowly forward, pausing and hiding behind the nearest tree whenever Rictus retraces his circuit to my side of the road. Why is he the only one out here? Does he know he’s walking the same patch of road over and over?
By the time I reach the road that Rictus is patrolling, night is almost fallen. Several burning houses, however, graciously provide me with light to navigate by, as well as frightening twisted shadows that play tricks on my eyes and frayed nerves. Super.
Rictus is still the only undead friend I have spied. He is approaching my side of the road, but doesn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary.
I'd like to make it across the street while Rictus still has his back to me, then I can try moving between those houses.
"So long, Chuckles.” I murmer at Rictus. “Chuckly Chuck. Haha, ha." I mutter. I’m getting punchy, I haven’t slept in so long.
As Rictus walks away from me, I quietly step from my cover onto the asphalt. When Rictus doesn't turn around, I pace quickly forward with my eyes glued to his back.
Halfway across the street, I freeze. Rictus has stopped moving and turns around with his face hanging backwards, tilted skyward. Shaking. No, sniffing? He sees me and begins croaking before his throat catches and he makes a thick, choked grunt. His gait widens and he is awkwardly jog-hopping toward me, trying to croak out syllables as his throat spasms wildly and his head flops back and forth.
I’ve never seen one of them move this fast and the grotesque display momentarily paralyzes me.
“Haaaaahhh. Aaaahhhhh.” I wheeze manically. I yell at myself internally and my feet begin to backpedal, but slowly, much too slowly. My legs will not kick into high gear like I am desperately urging them to do. I feel like I'm pushing against an invisible force, like running in a nightmare.
Rictus is only twenty feet away. Run, RUN! My lungs suddenly fill with air and my legs begin to work, but he’s close. He’s here.
I can see his face now, full of small holes. The skin has begun to rot and is turning an ugly brown gray. Its tongue is sticking out the side of its mouth and a trail of blood is running down its chin.
I'm able to pull in a long breath for what I assume will be a piercing, cinematic shriek before I am slaughtered. At the moment I tense my throat, Rictus falls on its face in front of me and I cough harshly instead of screaming.
it doesn't get up, and as I continue to cough, Rictus lies there immobile. What just happened? I definitely didn’t do anything. I walk toward the body but keep several feet between me and any part of the ghoul.
I don’t see any signs that it was shot, and I didn't hear anything before the monster faceplanted into the street, although the nearest house fire is loud. There isn’t anything in the road for it to trip on, and it still hasn't gotten up.
Then I hear a grunt. I jump back, startled, at the same time I realize that the grunt has come from behind me. As I start to turn, something slams into me from behind and knocks me toward Rictus.
My arms flail as I spin around and I step backwards to keep my balance, seeing a huge monster with a bloody chin walking toward me.
I trip backwards over Rictus' now twitching arm and I can see that the other zombie does not have a bloody chin; he is missing the lower half of his jaw.
My head hits the pavement and I cry out but don't stop moving. My legs kick and I scrape my palms trying to crab-walk but I keep scrambling until I have enough distance to straighten up.
My head and hands hurt, and my vision is blurred.
Rictus is trying to stand up. It looks as though he is trying to figure out how to use his arms and legs at the same time. The larger zombie is walking
smoothly forward as if nothing is the matter.
I turn around to run away and see another pair of undead monsters strolling toward my conflict. I keep running forward, putting distance between me and the more immediate threats behind me.
I look to my right and consider running between houses but even from halfway across the street some fires are giving off so much heat that I nix the idea. The possibility of becoming trapped between houses and having to choose between allowing zombies to eat me or running through fire that would cook me alive is extremely discouraging.
The zombies would probably eat me after I was burned to death anyway. Jerks.
The two new zombies are calmly walking toward me, so I glance over my shoulder. Jawless is following me and Rictus has turned around as well, on his feet again.
I stop jogging and catch my breath as the four ghouls close in.
I think briefly about returning to the car and leaving this entire nightmare behind me, but if I don’t even look for an address, there’s no way I’ll find my parents or my little brother.
I’m going home. I sprint to my left in a wide arc around the two zombies in front of me, vectoring toward the intersection behind them. They continue walking toward me at a normal pace and are quickly left behind.
I attract several more interested parties as I make my way down the streets to my house. I’m not normally this popular.
I cough again while I’m running and feel exhausted. I flash on spending half an hour creeping along next to hundreds of trees on my way into the neighborhood without pausing to pick up a stick. Any stick. A whacking stick.
Time in my car hasn't activated the part of my brain that encourages bludgeoning zombies. But now, running for my life, that part of my brain is firing on all cylinders!
I get nearer to my house and slow down. Nothing on the street that I can see. Night is here.
My head begins to pound, a headache as painful as I’ve ever had before. I lift a hand to the side of my head and then yelp at a severe stinging. My palms are both raw and seeping blood.
I quickly crane down my neck and lick my right palm, then splutter and spit out the gravel and blood.
Afterlife (Book 1): Home Again Page 1
