by Nick Clausen
“There are many of them below the window,” Agnete calls from somewhere. And when he doesn’t reply, she goes on: “Iver? You still there?”
“I … I’m sorry,” Iver hears himself croak. “When did it happen?”
Leif shakes his head and sighs deeply. “Must’ve been when I fought them. I know it was stupid, but … I had no choice … I mean, they were all over me … I had to hold them back, you know …”
Iver’s thoughts are going a million miles an hour. How long? How long till Leif dies and wakes up again? Could be minutes. Could be a little longer; half an hour, an hour maybe. It’s only a couple of scratches, but that’s enough.
“I’m … I’m really sorry, Leif,” he says again.
Leif sighs deeply. “Yeah, me too.”
“Iver?” Agnete calls again. “You guys all right in there?”
Iver turns towards the door, not really wanting to take his eyes off of Leif. He clears his throat and shakes his head. “No … no, we’re not all right.”
“What does that mean?” Alarm in Agnete’s voice.
“Leif got himself … he’s infected.”
He can hear Agnete gasp.
Iver goes over to Leif. He has to force himself to move his feet. He knows that Leif wouldn’t hurt him or try to infect him, but still it’s an effort just to come closer.
“Leif,” he says softly, causing Leif to lift his head and look at him. His eyes are glazed over, the obvious look of someone who’s just been told they’ve got less than an hour to live. “I’m really sorry about this. I am. But we need to figure out something before you … I hope you understand.”
Leif doesn’t exactly look like he understands, but he nods. “It’s okay, Iver. You don’t need to worry. I’ll show myself out.”
Iver glances over at the door. “You sure that’s a good idea? I mean, as soon as you open the door, they’ll push themselves inside.”
“Oh, right,” Leif says, as though he’d forgotten all about the zombies in the hallway. He rubs his forehead. “Well, I don’t know then …”
Iver bites his lip. “It might be better if I could get out of here.”
“Uh-huh,” Leif says, but he’s obviously not listening any more. He’s resumed staring at the floor, holding his injured wrist, where the skin is already turning pink around the scratch marks.
Iver goes over to the window again and opens it a second time. He looks down at the crowd of zombies. He’s far too high up to make the jump without breaking bones, even if the zombies hadn’t been there.
He looks to the sides. Then up.
The window is located right below the rain gutter. He can reach it. He might even be able to pull himself onto the roof. From there, he could theoretically reach the other windows—like the one to the bedroom on the other side.
But it would be a very risky move.
Right now, though, it looks like his only chance. He goes back over to the door. “Agnete? You hear me?”
“I do.”
“I’ll try and make it onto the roof. Then I’ll come to your window. We’ll have to figure out some way for me to get into your room. Okay?”
“Okay,” Agnete says, sounding hesitant.
“I know it’s dangerous, but there’s no other way. I’ll call to you once I’m up there.”
“Okay, Iver. Be careful.”
Iver goes back to Leif. “Listen,” he says. “I’ll be going now.”
Leif looks up at him, looking like a sleepwalker. “Going where?”
“Out the window. I’ll climb onto the roof and try and make it to Agnete’s bedroom.”
“Oh,” Leif says. “That’s a good idea.”
“I could use your help,” Iver goes on. “Getting up there, I mean. You think you can support me? I know it’s a lot to ask, but—”
“Oh, no, sure,” Leif says, getting to his feet. “I might as well do some good while I’m still … you know.”
“Thanks, Leif,” Iver says, smiling. “You’re a good guy.”
“You think I’ll get to see her again?”
The question seems to come out of nowhere.
“See who?” Iver asks.
“My old mother?”
Iver feels a lump in his throat as he recalls Leif telling him about his mother dying of cancer not that long ago. He nods. “I think there’s a good chance you just might.”
Leif smiles dreamily. “I sure hope so. That would be nice. You know, I’ve missed her terribly since she died. I never had any kids of my own, so she was kind of all I had.”
“I understand,” Iver says, swallowing hard to keep his voice from shaking. “Listen, Leif, I hate to rush things, but we should get going before you lose your strength.”
“Sure thing. Let’s do it.”
FIVE
“We’ve filled the underground tunnel with gasoline.”
Dennis is standing by the foot of the stairs. He hasn’t turned on the lights in the room, and it’s very dark. Yet his eyes have had plenty of time to adjust, and he can make out the cabinet door underneath the stairs just fine.
He listens to the silence of the house.
Mom is downstairs, in the bunker, sleeping.
From outside comes the faint moan now and then from the deads surrounding the house—Dennis is more or less used to them by now and barely hears them.
What he hears the loudest is his own heartbeat. It’s pounding away on the inside of his eardrums.
The can is heavy in his hand. If he moves it slightly, he can feel the liquid slosh around in there.
“We’ve filled the underground tunnel with gasoline.”
Mom’s voice again, playing in his memory.
“If anyone tries to force their way in, we’ll light a match and burn the intruders alive.”
Mom was bluffing, of course. They hadn’t poured out the gasoline—it was all still in the can. But had the people in the car tried to make their way in, Mom would have gone ahead, turning her threat into reality.
They didn’t, though.
But the big, red can has been sitting here, next to the cupboard under the staircase, ever since. Just in case they came back, Mom had told him.
Mom has no idea that one of them is coming back this very night. In a matter of minutes, actually. And he’s brought company, even though he swore to Dennis he was coming alone.
Which means he was lying about everything else as well. Dan obviously isn’t coming to find a cure for the undead people—he’s coming to steal the safe house back.
Dennis won’t let that happen, though.
A tremor runs through his body, starting from his calves and working its way up through his buttocks and back to his shoulders. It’s accompanied by a strong urge to run downstairs and tell Mom everything.
Dennis breathes in deeply and forces himself to stay put. Running to Mom was something the other Dennis would do. The younger Dennis. The Dennis who hadn’t fired a gun.
The new Dennis is determined to handle this on his own. He already took that decision when he didn’t tell Mom about the call on the satellite phone. In a way, it’s his own fault; after all, he let Dan talk him into his plan about him coming without Mom knowing.
But he lied. Dan lied to him.
Which is why Dennis is determined to see this to the end on his own. Preferably without Mom even knowing.
The weapon is tucked in his pants, resting against his lower back. He brought it down here, convinced he was going to use it. Then he saw the gas can and decided that was a better solution.
First of all, it won’t wake up Mom.
And secondly, there’s much less risk of it going wrong.
Firing a gun at someone isn’t a guarantee to put them out of action. Lighting them on fire, on the other hand, that will do the trick ten out of ten times.
It’s time to get moving. They’ll be here any minute.
Dennis takes another deep breath, then opens the cupboard and steps inside. He pushes the back of the cupboard, pr
oducing a low click and causing the wooden surface to swing open like a door.
He peers down into the tunnel. There are ten or twelve steps leading down to the tunnel, which will take him to the ladder, which in turn leads to the hidden cover in the courtyard.
Dennis doesn’t need to go down there, though, which is another great thing about the gasoline plan: he can stay right where he is. He already unlocked the hatch earlier this evening, back when he still believed Dan had good intentions.
Now, he places the can between his feet and unscrews the plug. Then he tilts the whole thing and the gasoline starts spilling down the stairs. Dennis holds it, listens to the can gurgle and the gasoline splashing. The smell of it fills the air.
Once the can is about half-empty, he can tell there’s already a puddle by the foot of the stairs. The tunnel slopes down slightly, and the gasoline flows on towards the ladder.
Dennis decides it’s enough. He puts the can aside, taking his time to screw the plug back on.
He picks up the box of matches and takes one out. He closes the secret door almost all the way, leaving open a gap just wide enough to peer through.
Then he begins waiting.
SIX
Iver steps onto the windowsill.
Leif grabs him by the belt, enabling him to lean out. He twists halfway around and reaches up both hands to grab the rain gutter. It’s cold and moist from dew, but it’s firmly secured to the roof and it feels like it will be able to hold his weight as he climbs up.
“Okay,” Iver says. “I’m going up now. You just hold on until I tell you, okay?”
“Sure,” Leif says.
Iver stands up slowly, using his hands to pull himself up. Standing tall, the rain gutter is level with his chin. He’ll have to pull himself the rest of the way.
“Okay, let go, Leif.”
Leif’s hand releases its hold on his belt, and for a moment Iver just stands there, his feet on the windowsill, his hands grasping the gutter, his weight leaned back out over the eighteen-foot drop behind him ending in zombies.
“Here we go,” he whispers to himself. “You can do it.”
He breathes deeply, then pushes off the windowsill and pulls himself upwards. The gutter gives off a loud, metallic scream, and for a moment Iver is sure it’ll give way, but it doesn’t, even though it complains audibly as he scrambles his way up onto the roof.
Luckily, Agnete’s roof is very different from the one on Fred’s house. This one is a lot less steep, and it’s covered with roofing felt instead of tiles, which provides him with a way firmer grip.
He sits up and climbs away from the edge, his heart pounding hard enough to make his vision go shaky.
“You okay up there?” Leif calls.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Iver says, panting for breath, almost feeling like laughing with relief. “I made it.”
“Good. Nice job, Iver.”
“Thank you, Leif. For helping me.” He feels like he needs to say something else, as he realizes Leif just helped save his life and this will be the last time they speak. “I’ll never forget about you,” he says, feeling immediately stupid.
“I appreciate that,” Leif says simply. “I think I’ll lie down now. I feel a little hot.”
“Sure,” Iver says. “You do that. Thanks again.”
Leif doesn’t answer; he’s obviously already gone to lie down.
Iver climbs to the top of the roof. A mild breeze is blowing through the night, soothing his sweaty face, and as he looks out over the island, it’s enough to take his breath away.
There are lights in houses here and there, but most have gone dark. Grey, shadowy figures are moving around everywhere, swarming the streets and the fields and the beaches.
Thousands, Iver thinks to himself. There are thousands of them.
He forces himself to focus on the task at hand. He climbs down towards the place Agnete’s bedroom must be. When he’s four feet from the edge, he calls to her.
“Iver?” she answers almost right away, a little to the left from where he’s sitting. “You made it up there? Oh, I’m so relieved.”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Iver says. “So far, at least.”
“What about Leif?”
“He’s already spiking a fever.”
“Goodness, that’s just terrible. And Charlotte? And Chris? And Linda?”
“They’re all gone,” Iver says. “I’ll explain everything when I get in there with you.”
“How are you going to do it?”
“I don’t know,” Iver says honestly. “I think I need to just lower myself down and then … maybe you can help me get in?”
“I’ll try my best, but I really think it’s risky.”
“I know. We have to give it a shot. Stand back while I swing down, okay? Then be ready to grab me if I can’t reach the windowsill.”
Iver scootches closer to the edge, letting his feet drop out over the gutter. Below on the ground there’s a crowd of zombies similar to the one he just saw on the other side.
Iver grabs a firm hold of the gutter, then twists his body, turning over as he lets his hip glide out over the gutter. He pauses here for a moment, taking a breath.
“I see your legs!” Agnete calls. “You want me to grab you?”
“Not yet!”
Iver gathers all his strength, then lets himself drop as gently as he can. Even though he uses his arms to lower himself, there’s still a strong tug at the gutter as his full weight is put on it, and it gives off that awful metallic scream again. But this time, it also gives way, and Iver feels the drop in his stomach.
It’s only a couple of inches, but it’s enough for him to cry out and almost lose his grip. He flails his legs, searching for the windowsill, and he feels Agnete grab his pants and pull him in.
As his feet touch down on the windowsill, he can ease of the pull on the gutter and instead bend down to grab the upper frame of the window, allowing him to squat down and tumble into the bedroom.
He almost knocks over Agnete, who just manages to step out of the way before he lands on his hands and knees on the floor. From the crib Adam is standing up, holding the rails, pacifier in his mouth, looking at him curiously. Iver feels like kissing the floorboards but makes do with closing his eyes and sending a quick prayer of thanks.
“My goodness,” Agnete breathes. “I was afraid you were going to fall.”
“Me too,” Iver says, panting as he looks back out at the gutter. It’s been pulled free and is hanging in a slope. Just thinking about how close he had gotten to plummeting down into the crowd of zombies makes his skin crawl. “Well, there’s no way we’re going back out that way, that’s for sure.”
SEVEN
The engine comes to life right away—as though it’s just as eager as William to get going.
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes! Fuck yeah!” He punches the ceiling harder and harder, unable to keep it in. “Fuck yeah! We’re getting out of here! Fuck you guys! Fuck you all!”
He flips the zombies off with both hands, making sure to cover every direction. Ozzy—uncertain what William is happy about, but feeling his excitement—begins barking.
“You’re goddamn right, buddy!” William says, breathing fast. “Those assholes can go fuck themselves, because we’re outta here!”
He puts the car in reverse, places his right arm around the passenger seat and slowly begins to make his way backwards. It feels like driving in mud. The car is somewhat reluctant to move due to all the dead bodies pressing up against it. So William revs it up some more and gets it moving, shoving the zombies back. Some of them stumble clumsily out of the way, others trip and fall. William can hear them scramble around under the car as he backs right over them. The car rocks as the tires make their way over legs and arms and torsos, producing crunching noises as the bones give way, which brings William a sick satisfaction.
“Fuck you guys,” he mutters, concentrating on steering the car. “Thought you were getting an easy meal, did you? Well, chew
on this!”
He stops and puts the car in drive. Then he begins making his way forward while pulling right, moving out of the line of cars. He can barely see anything for the horde of zombies, and he has to go mostly by feel. The darkness doesn’t make it any easier.
Suddenly, the rear end of another car appears, and William has to hit the brakes hard to not collide with it.
“Shit! Thought I was past that one …”
He backs it up a few yards, and immediately the other car disappears from view as it’s swallowed up by the zombies crowding around William’s car. He turns more sharply to the right this time as he goes forward again. He doesn’t meet the other car, but instead he feels how his own car begins tilting to the right as he gets too close to the ditch.
“Fuck me, this is gonna take forever.”
He bites his lip and thinks for a moment, the engine idling away, the zombies pushing and shoving from all sides.
Ozzy whimpers from the backseat, impatient to get going.
“I know, I know, buddy. But we need to be careful now. Can’t jump the gun and end up screwing our last chance up.”
After half a minute of pondering the problem, William comes to the conclusion that there’s really no other way; he needs to drive out of here. Which means he needs to drive alongside the line of cars, striking the balance of not hitting any of them, while at the same time keeping close enough to them so as to not go into the ditch by the roadside.
The problem is that in order to do that, he needs to go very slowly. And this in turn means that the zombies will have time to follow along. The horde is very big—in fact, he has no way of telling exactly how big—and it might take him a very long time to drive his way through it … provided he doesn’t crash the car or get it stuck before that.
“It’s going to be a grind,” William tells Ozzy. “But we’ll have to do it.”
He gets the car moving again, pushing the zombies out of the way. He sees the next car coming up on his left, and he adjusts the course so that he passes by it within six feet. Then, after another few yards, the next car appears, and William again adjusts accordingly.
