Zombie, Indiana

by Scott Kenemore

  “Oh,” the young man said. “Great.”

  “Hey guys . . .” Kesha began, more than a touch of alarm in her voice.

  “What?” Nolan said.

  “Look.”

  Kesha extended her hand toward the nearest edge of the carnival grounds. Nolan looked and saw nine or ten of the slow, stuporous bodies edging toward them.

  “How can there be so many?” Kesha whispered.

  Nolan opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He thought about it.

  How many unsolved murders were there every year? And how many cases where people disappear and the body is never found? All those people who you hope are living in another state or somewhere overseas. What if they’re right here, just a few inches underneath the ground? Dumped into shallow ponds and thrown into caves. Buried in an unmarked location with no coffin to prevent a reanimated body from clawing its way back up through the earth.

  Sure, not that many people a year go missing. But add them all up, year after year, and then set them all loose again, all at once? Yeah, it would look a lot like this, Nolan decided.

  “We need to get down from this trailer,” Nolan cried.

  “What?” the carnival vendor said in alarm. “Are you crazy? Down there with them?”

  “You want to get surrounded?” Nolan asked, sliding his bulk to the edge. “These things are slow, but they can also be strong. It only took three to overturn your trailer.”

  “Ehh, this trailer was wobbly anyway,” the young vendor said.

  “Even so, I don’t want them on all sides of me,” Nolan said. “What’s more, I’m about out of bullets.”

  Nolan slid off the edge of the trailer with Kesha following soon after. Then he and Kesha helped the vendor descend as gingerly as they could. It looked to Nolan like the young man had some first-degree burns, but would probably be fine after a little aloe vera.

  Kesha shrieked and began pointing. Nolan turned and saw a man with rotting flesh emerging from the shadows, mere inches away. How had he gotten so close, so quietly? The man’s arms extended as if he were fumbling for a light-switch cord in a dark room. His teeth were audibly gnashing. Nolan’s reflexes took over; he kicked the thing in the center of the chest as hard as he could. It staggered backwards, giving Nolan just enough time to draw his Ruger. Nolan took aim and shot the zombie in the forehead.

  “Damn things are sneaky,” the carnival vendor said as the undead man fell to the ground.

  Nolan frowned and replaced his weapon.

  “Now we’re down to bullet,” he said. “Singular.”

  A horrible chorus of moans arose from the far side of the trailer. The things were still coming.

  “Here, follow me,” the vendor said. He took off at a jog, wincing each time he stepped with his burned leg. He led them back through the maze of rides, attractions, and animal stalls at the center of the fair.

  “Where are we going, kid?” Nolan asked.

  “Somewhere with a door,” the man replied.

  Moments later, the trio stopped in front of a small white trailer at the edge of the carnival near the parking lot. It was unmarked, and had only two small windows. The young vendor tried the door, but found it locked.

  “Sheree!” he called, banging on the side. “Sheree, it’s me, Steven! Open up!”

  The young man began to fumble with a set of keys. Nolan looked around the dark midway, behind and beside them. There was movement in the shadows nearby. What might be man and might be zombie was impossible to tell. The abandoned carnival rides creaked in the wind. Almost all of the carnival patrons had now escaped. Even so, in the distance Nolan could still hear revving engines and voices raised in alarm.

  The door to the trailer opened, and all three of them rushed inside. The young vendor—Steven—shut the door hard behind them and stood with his back against it.

  The tiny interior smelled like a dorm room where laundry had not been done for the better part of a semester. It was dark. Nolan could see clothes, food, cookware, books, and toiletries scattered across every surface. There was hardly room for anybody to move. Nolan had to stoop to avoid hitting his head.

  It was difficult to see Sheree—the woman who had opened the door for them. As Nolan waited for his eyes to fully adjust, he watched her come into view piece by piece. She had long hair and glasses, and held a rifle in the crook of her arm. On top she wore a light pink sweatshirt—worn and comfortable looking—and had blue “mom jeans” on beneath. Nolan guessed from her voice that she was in late middle age.

  “Steven,” Sheree cried. “Where on earth were you? Why didn’t you come? I was worried sick.”

  “Mama, those things . . . they turned over the cotton candy trailer,” Steven said. “I got burned on my leg. Then these folks pulled me out.”

  “Are you all right?” Sheree asked, quite alarmed. She bent and attempted to inspect her son’s leg in the darkness.

  Steven nodded and said, “I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt so bad now.”

  “Looks like he just got a little singed,” Nolan told her. “You got some of that green stuff for sunburns?”

  Sheree did not respond to the giant, crouching man, and instead continued inspecting her son.

  “Steven . . .” Sheree eventually said. “You’re going to be fine. Now tell me again, who are these folks?”

  “Well,” Steven began. “I don’t rightly . . .”

  “I’m a police officer from Indianapolis. My name is James. This is my friend Kesha. She’s a high school student. Also from Indy. Her whole class—or almost her whole class—got eaten by these things a few hours ago. We’re trying to get to a phone.”

  Sheree nodded grimly.

  “Phones have been down for the last few hours,” she said. “Not that I expected much service out here.”

  “What are those things?” Steven asked.

  Nobody tried to answer this question. There was silence in the trailer. They heard a few shouts in the distance, and then a smattering of gunfire. The report from the weapons echoed back and forth across the valley.

  “We met some people who thought it was the end of the world,” Kesha said. “That it was the dead coming back to life, like in the Bible.”

  Sheree scratched her head and said, “No, it’s not that. If it were the end of the world, I’d know.”

  Kesha wrinkled her nose. Nolan laughed audibly.

  “Mama is a little what you might call . . . ‘gifted,’” Steven said. “Sees things before they happen, time to time.”

  “I knew something was coming,” Sheree said, now looking away from her son. “I didn’t want to worry you with it, Steven. But I saw the end of this job for us. I thought you were just going to do something to get us fired. I knew I couldn’t stop it, so I didn’t say anything. Now it looks like we’re out of work for a whole different reason . . .”

  “Work is not the first thing on my mind right now,” Steven said, reclining into the tiny lower bunk where he slept.

  “Those things pushed over your cotton candy trailer,” Nolan said. “I don’t want to wait for them to come and tip this, too.”

  “I told you, there was something wrong with that trailer,” Steven said from his bunk. “They won’t be able to tip this. At least I don’t think they will.”

  Sheree joined her son on his bed and helped him remove his trousers. Even though it was dark, Kesha was embarrassed and turned toward the wall.

  “Ouch,” Steven said. “Oh, damn, that hurts.”

  “That oil got you good, didn’t it?” Sheree said. “It doesn’t look like it broke the skin. You just sit there and let me put some bandages on.”

  While Sheree ministered to her son, Nolan looked out the two small windows. He saw almost nothing. One by one, the remaining headlights faded into the distance or simply turned off. The carnival outside became different shades of black and grey cut through by occasional shafts of moonlight.

  “Okay, young lady,” Sheree said. “You can turn back around.”
r />   Kesha turned and saw Sheree delicately helping Steven back into his trousers.

  “Do you see any more of them?” Steven asked.

  “No,” said Nolan. “There’s nothing.”

  They waited. The noises in the background became less distinct. The shooting ceased nearly altogether. An engine rose and fell in the distance.

  “There’s room to sit over here,” Sheree said to Kesha. “Steven can scoot over. We don’t bite.”

  “Thank you,” Kesha said, and crossed the little trailer to sit down next to them.

  Nolan stayed by the window, stayed standing.

  “How long have you folks been on the road?” Nolan asked, still looking out the window.

  “This is near-on the end of our season,” Sheree said. “Some carnivals power on through until Halloween, but not us. Not Carrothers Brothers. That’s the name of the company, though there ain’t been any Carrothers in twenty years.”

  “Where are you based?” Nolan asked.

  “People come to work here from all over,” Sheree answered. “The carnival’s based in Denver. We live just outside of Cedar Rapids, though.”

  “Not Hoosiers then?” Nolan said. “And you don’t recognize me?”

  Both Steven and Sheree shook their heads no.

  “God, that’s a nice feeling,” Nolan said. He looked at Kesha and smiled. She had never seen him look so genuinely pleased. Outside, in the far, far distance, a single firearm sounded. It made Nolan think of the rifle he’d seen in Sheree’s hands.

  “Do you have many rounds for that rifle?” Nolan asked Sheree. “I only have one bullet left.”

  “Yes, there’s a whole box under the bed,” Sheree said.

  “Good,” Nolan told her. “I have a feeling you may need them.”

  Kesha detected furtive, furry movement in the shadows. A moment later, something ran across her toes.

  “Eee!” Kesha said, lifting her feet.

  “Don’t mind Furbus,” Sheree whispered. “Just a cat. A fat, spoiled one.”

  “She’s usually friendly,” Steven added. “I think she’s frightened tonight. Cats can tell when something’s up. Sometimes animals know things.”

  Kesha nodded, wondering if zombies ate cats. She didn’t think they did. Kesha decided that being a cat in a zombie outbreak might not be so terribly bad. She looked over to Nolan, who remained by the door.

  “What do we do now?” Kesha asked.

  Nolan took another look out the window, rubbed his face, and blinked like a drunk man trying to sober up.

  “For a while . . . just this,” he said.

  8

  If asked outright, Kesha would have declared her falling asleep to be a physical impossibility. Thus, her experience of surprise on waking from a deep doze was not inconsiderable. The mother and son—Sheree and Steven—were still next to her on the little bed. They nestled together, snoring lightly. Nolan was still leaning against the door. His eyes were heavy, but open. Outside, the earliest blue light of dawn had begun to creep over the horizon.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” Nolan whispered.

  Kesha stood and joined Nolan by the door.

  “I didn’t mean to nod off,” she said. “What’s happening?”

  Nolan shook his head.

  “Nothing; it’s quiet,” Nolan said. His voice was shaky. It might only be his having stayed up all night, but Kesha wondered if there were something amiss.

  “Is everything alright?” Kesha asked.

  Nolan pursed his lip and said, “Relatively speaking, I suppose.”

  Kesha looked at the sleeping mother and son. It made her long for her father with an unexpected intensity.

  “Is it safe out there, do you think?” Kesha asked. She risked a peek through the dusty pane. Beyond she saw only the empty carnival grounds. No people. No zombies.

  “I haven’t seen any more of those things, if that’s what you mean,” Nolan said.

  Kesha relaxed a little. But Nolan’s face fell.

  “There are other things I haven’t seen,” Nolan told her. “I haven’t seen any survivors from the carnival. I haven’t seen police, or fire, or emergency vehicles. I haven’t seen airplanes or helicopters. My cell phone still has no service. And I don’t think the power has come back on.”

  Nolan steadied himself against the door.

  Kesha wrinkled her nose to ask why this upset him so.

  “I guess I was hoping that this—whatever it is—was something isolated. Maybe just down in those caves, or in the fields right around them. But I think this is everywhere.”

  “Are you going to go back to Indianapolis?” Kesha asked. “Back to the governor?”

  “What am I gonna tell him that he doesn’t already know?” Nolan said, shaking his head. “That there are zombies eating people all over his state? I think he knows that already. If he doesn’t, he’s no kind of governor.”

  “Oh,” Kesha said. “So what are you thinking, then?”

  Nolan shifted uncomfortably and did not look directly at Kesha as he spoke.

  “You’re a little young for this, but because of these circumstances, I’m going to talk to you like an adult for a moment. Okay? But please understand, I’m only doing this because of . . . the circumstances.”

  Kesha was a little confused, but nodded yes.

  “So . . .” Nolan began. “The governor has a hunting cabin in this part of the state. It’s over near Bedford. He doesn’t use it for hunting, though. He uses it to spend time with women who are not his wife. Do you understand?”

  Kesha nodded quickly to indicate that she did.

  “I think the governor is not as good at keeping it a secret as he thinks he is,” Nolan said. “For example, I know from people on his security detail that his wife is aware. Most of the people who work with him know too. I just can’t help but wonder if his daughter might also have gotten wind.”

  “Yeah, she knows,” Kesha said without thinking.

  “Oh?” Nolan asked with genuine curiosity. “Does she talk about it at school or something?”

  Kesha shook her head.

  “No, but . . . parents always think kids aren’t going to know about things like that. But we always know. Always.”

  Nolan smiled.

  “Well, there you go,” he said. “Anyhow, I think that the governor’s daughter—Madison—might try to head for that cabin. It’s what I might do if I were her. I don’t know if she knows the way, but it’s the best lead I’ve got. I don’t want to go back to Indy empty-handed, and I sure as hell don’t want to go back without having looked first.”

  “How will you do it?” Kesha asked.

  Nolan pointed out the window.

  “Try to find a car that still works. It looks like there’s a bunch still out there. Maybe I’ll find a map in one of ’em, or else hope that the GPS on my phone comes back online. I don’t spend too much time in this part of the state. But hell, maybe there will be road signs. Bedford’s small, but it’s not that small.”

  Kesha nodded.

  “You want to come on a little recon mission with me?” Nolan said, indicating the trailer door with a bob of his head. “We can let these folks sleep a while longer. They look like they need it.”

  “Should I take the rifle?” Kesha asked.

  “No,” Nolan whispered. “That’s theirs. I expect taking another person’s firearm is going to be a pretty touchy subject from here on out. Besides, I’ve still got one bullet left, remember?”

  He smiled broadly. Kesha nodded to say that she would go. Nolan carefully opened the trailer door.

  Outside, dawn was breaking over what remained of the fair. There were empty animal pens and overturned fences, quiet midway rides, and vacant booths. Nothing moved. Were others holed up inside the trailers too, or had everyone evacuated—literally headed for the hills? To Kesha, it felt like the latter. The place looked utterly abandoned.

  They crept toward the parking lot at the end of the midway. The cars on the Ferris wheel
gave a two-syllable cre-eak whenever the wind blew. The sky was pristine and bright. It looked like it was going to be another cloudless day. The kind of weather that made people from Indy drive down to this part of the state to look at the leaves. But something told Kesha that people were going to be staying in their houses with the doors locked and the shutters closed for the foreseeable future.

  “Do you think this is happening all over the state?” Kesha whispered as they stalked past an empty row of smelly Port-A-Johns. “Or what about all over the country? All over the world?”

  “I don’t know enough to guess,” Nolan told her. “But I’ll bet we find out soon.”

  They crept silently past an abandoned tent selling caramelized popcorn. The tent flaps were billowing in the warm morning wind. There was a loud clank as something inside the tent fell over. Kesha nearly jumped out of her shoes. Nolan put his hand on Kesha’s shoulder to steady her. Then he produced his weapon, ready to use his remaining bullet if necessary. Nolan edged forward and looked into the tent. It contained a lone doe feasting on scattered caramel corn.

  “It’s just a deer,” Nolan whispered.

  Kesha crept forward and risked a glance. The deer looked up as if to acknowledge them, then returned to its morning repast.

  “Aww, it’s pretty,” Kesha said.

  They continued across the carnival until they reached the parking area. From this new perspective, they could see a wide swath of the countryside, and the chaos created by people rushing to flee the carnival. Nolan saw at least ten cars that had been crashed and abandoned at various points along the road. A trailer containing pigs had been left behind; its porcine inhabitants still alive and bleating. The area was also covered with things that people had dropped in the course of their retreats. It made the field beyond the carnival look like the aftermath of an outdoor rock and roll show, before the cleaning crew had had a chance to step in. Clothing, food, bottles, picnic baskets, and backpacks were littered all around.

  Kesha craned her neck and tried to take in the entire expanse. She saw nothing that looked like a human or a zombie. She saw no movement other than the tall grass bobbing in the wind.