Love, Revenge and Zombies

by Travis Cotter

  There was a picture of Abby sitting on the mantle of the fireplace, he walked over to the picture and placed his hand on it as a tear ran down his face. He placed the picture in one of the duffle bags and then set the bags down next to the front door.

  There was only one thing left that he needed to do and then he was ready to set out on his mission to destroy the undead plague outside. He walked up the stairs and stood outside the door of the bedroom. The noise of him walking down the hall must have alerted Abby of his presents because he could hear her stirring in the room as he walked up to the door. His heart was racing and his hand was shaking but he knew he had to end it so that he could leave and not think about her still locked in that room.

  Paul turned the door handle and pushed the door open; Abby was standing over by the bedroom window. For a second he forgot what she had become and pictured her looking out the window at the setting sun. In an instant he was snapped back to reality when he heard a low growl come from her as she began to make her way towards him. His hand was still trembling as he raised his pistol up and aimed it at her.

  “I know you aren’t Abby anymore but this is still the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” he said out loud with tears pouring out of him.

  Abby kept coming towards him as he placed his finger on the trigger.

  “Goodbye,” he said and the sound of the gun rang through his ears and he watched her collapse to the floor.

  He wanted to break down and collapse on the floor next to her but he knew he had lost her already and the thing lying before him wasn’t the girl he loved and some how he knew he had to make peace with that. He holstered the pistol and turned to walk back downstairs to collect his bags and head out into the world.

  He stopped at the doorway of the room because a voice inside him wouldn’t let him walk out. Maybe it was his heart speaking to him. He turned back around to look at Abby and his heart hurt. It was as much of an emotional pain as a physical pain; he knew he couldn’t just leave her lying on the floor like some piece of trash tossed to the side.

  He walked back to Abby and picked her up and cradled her in his arms. He felt her back in his arms and it only caused him to cry harder, all he wanted was her to be back with him. He shook his head as if he was physically trying to shake those thoughts from his head; he knew she wasn’t coming back.

  The bed sank down a little as he gently placed her on it; her reached up and closed her eyes. Then he kissed his fingers and gently placed the kiss on her lips. He crossed her arms across her chest and got up from the bed. He wanted to believe that maybe she was at peace and he knew that thought was all he could take with him and he hoped it would help him deal with it.

  He walked across the room and walked out, for some reason he closed the door behind him even though he knew she wouldn’t be getting up again. Maybe somewhere deep inside he felt he had to close the door to make sure she wouldn’t be disturbed and she could rest in peace.

  The bags were still downstairs where he had left them and he picked them up and headed outside. The front yard was full of about a half dozen zombies and he could see another four stumbling in the street. In his mind there was no better time then the present to begin destroying these ungodly creatures.

  He walked over and placed the bags next to the motorcycle lying in the driveway and then held his machete in his hand to finish off the zombies. He started with a young man in jeans and a t-shirt wandering close to the porch, he drove the machete deep into his skull and felt the bone and brains crush under it. Another zombie was approaching him from behind but he struggled to pull the machete from the young mans skull; he had driven it too deep. He let go of the machete and turned to face the zombie coming towards him.

  It looked to be a woman but there was so much damage to the face and body that it was hard to tell what it was but it didn’t really matter to him. He kicked the right knee of the zombie and watched the leg fold in half backwards, the zombie collapsed to the ground in front of him. He felt its skull shatter as he stomped on its head over and over again. The excitement of killing was growing in him and the thought of killing the creatures was fueling his rage.

  He went back to retrieve his machete and after a few tugs and a little more effort he was able to pull the blade free. He ran back to the house and searched for a minute until he found what he was looking for, he found Abby’s softball bat lying on the floor upstairs. He carried it downstairs and was set to go back outside to finish off the rest of the monsters. As he stepped outside with the machete in one hand and the bat in the other he paused and a plan began to formulate in his mind.

  He walked back into the house and set the weapons down on the dining room table and walked into the kitchen. The stove was against the far wall and he walked over to it and checked it out. It was a gas stove just as he had hoped and he lifted the top of it and blew out the pilot lights and then did the same on the oven. He turned all of the burners up to high and turned the oven all the way up with the oven door left open. He began to smell the gas coming from the stove and walked out of the kitchen to collect his weapons from the table.

  He walked out to the living room and found a candle on one of the end tables next to the couch. He found a book of matches next to the candle. His plan was to let the candle burn and wait for the gas to reach it.

  He stepped back outside and closed the door behind him; again he stood on the porch with the machete in one hand and the bat in the other. He was ready to finish off the rest of the creatures wandering around and then head downtown. The first zombie he approached was stumbling around on the sidewalk in front of the yard; he swung the bat and connected with the side of its head. The zombie dropped to the ground and he smashed its forehead once more with the bat.

  He spun around and put the machete into the side of a young ladies head as she walked towards him. The top of her head came almost completely off as she fell to the sidewalk.

  He walked out to the road to a group of four zombies stumbling towards him; he kicked one of them in the chest and sent it stumbling back. A moment later he smashed its head with the bat and sent brain matter flying through the air and in the blink of an eye he swung the machete back around and split another zombie’s head wide open. The last two were finished off just as quickly with a couple of swings of the bat. One of the creatures was still twitching a little on the pavement so he drove the machete straight down through its eye socket and twisted it into its brain.

  There were still two zombies wandering around the front yard near the porch but he knew he was running out of time before the gas in the house reached the candle. He decided he would leave without taking out the other two zombies so he walked to the bike and picked it up off the ground.

  The bike roared to life and then he used the rope from earlier to secure the bags, the machete and his bat to the back of the seat again. He got on the bike and before he rode off he decided not to leave the two zombies behind, he pulled his 1911 out and fired off two rounds. Both bullets found their marks and both zombies dropped to the ground with holes in their heads.

  He backed the motorcycle out of the driveway and rode off down the road; he had only made it about four houses down the road when the gas finally found the candle. The house burst into a giant fire ball and he could feel the heat and shockwave from the blast run up his back. A single tear ran down his cheek as he realized the only trace of Abby left in this world was the picture he had in his bag. He would carry on her memory but he knew the time for war had begun. His only focus now would be the war ahead of him and he would put all his attention towards that, the time to mourn would have to wait. Right now it was time to kill and make sure the dead stay dead.

  Fourteen

  The ride that should have been an easy ten minute commute turned into a two hour battle through horde after horde of monsters, but he had finally made it downtown and all he could think of was how badly he needed a strong drink. There was a small bar that he had gone to a couple of times before and he knew h
e was only a block or so from it so that would be his next stop.

  He parked the bike in an alley behind the bar; it was a solid two story brick building with no visible windows on the first floor. Paul noticed a delivery door on the side of the building a little ways down the alley. He walked down to the door only to find that it was locked with three padlocks securing it shut. He thought about trying to break the locks or shoot them off but as he looked around the alley there was nothing he could see that would break the locks. The idea of shooting the locks was beginning to look like his only option if he really wanted to get inside but for now he didn’t feel like attracting that much attention.

  He was giving up on the idea of getting a drink in the bar and was headed back to his bike when he noticed a window on the second floor was open about an inch. There was a dumpster directly underneath the window so with a little effort he might be able to get up to it. He climbed on top of the dumpster and jumped up to grab on to the window sill. He struggled at first to hold on with one hand while trying to push the window up with the other. On his first attempt the window didn’t want to move and he was forced to hang on to the sill with both hands while he prepared himself for a second try. He let go once more with one hand and pushed on the window a second time, it seemed to be a losing battle as the window still refused to move. He gave it one last burst of strength and it seemed his luck was changing as the window began to move.

  After another few seconds he was able to pull himself up and into the room above. The second floor turned out to be a studio apartment with enough furniture in it to make Paul think that someone had been living there recently. It was a large open area with a king size bed against the far wall and Paul was standing in what must have been the living room. There was a tan leather sofa separating the bed from the living room and a large flat screen television on an entertainment stand against the wall in front of the sofa.

  The kitchen and dining area were just as open as the rest of the house with only a small wooden table and chair separating the two rooms. Paul walked across the large room to a pantry in the kitchen and opened it to reveal a plethora of canned foods. There were canned soups, vegetables and a variety of other foods. It was enough to last him a month if he stayed there but then he realized that he was in somebody else’s home.

  If he was right then somebody had been there recently and he couldn’t take their hope for survival. In this new world there was a chance that whoever had been there before wasn’t coming back. Matter of fact there was a good chance that whoever had been living there wouldn’t be coming back. If they were still alive then why would they have left this place to go out in the world? What purpose would there be to go outside if you had food, a secure location and a fully stocked bar downstairs.

  Then it occurred to him that he hadn’t checked the bar yet and whoever was living here could be downstairs. He walked to the only door in the room besides the bathroom door and opened it. The door led to a staircase that led down to the bar.

  The staircase actually led to the kitchen at the back of the bar. The first thing that Paul noticed was there was an old style wood oven and stove along the back wall of the kitchen. He smiled as he thought about how much better this place was getting by the second. If the power was too finally go out for good, which Paul knew would be inevitable if order wasn’t gained outside. Then the wood stove would serve to cook on and also to stay warm once the weather turned colder.

  As much as it bothered him to think it, but he was starting to hope the people that were here before weren’t still around or not coming back if they stepped out.

  The sound of something moving around in the bar caught his attention and he quickly drew his gun. He didn’t plan on using it unless he had too but he wasn’t going to take any chances either. If it was the people that were living there then he would leave and let them keep the bar but he also knew in this new world he wasn’t going towards any noise without a weapon.

  There was a door between him and the bar area so he slowly approached it trying to be as quiet as he could. The door had a small window on it that he used to peak out into the bar area but as far as he could tell there was no one out there. The door was the type that swung back and forth so the employees could walk through it with full trays of food. Paul slowly pushed the door open and the door made a horrible squeaking sound. He stopped moving and just listened. Again he heard something out in the bar area and now he was sure something or someone was out there.

  Paul was knocked back on his butt as a bullet hit near the top of the door and then another one struck closer to the middle of the door. He scrambled to find cover behind an island in the middle of the kitchen as two more bullets came screaming through the door.

  “Who’s there? I’ll kill you if I have too,” someone shouted from out in the bar.

  “I’m not here to hurt you; I didn’t know anyone was here. I was just trying to get a drink. It’s been a rough couple of days,” Paul responded.

  The man’s voice was shaky as he shouted back out to Paul “how do I know you’re not one of those things?”

  “Well it’s been my experience that those things can’t talk but I could be wrong,” Paul said.

  It came out kind of smartass but he was okay with that. He wasn’t too happy about being shot at and he was annoyed that this guy was asking stupid questions.

  The thought of just going out into the bar and putting a bullet in this guy was crossing his mind but then he realized that the guy was probably terrified. Unlike Paul this guy was probably just some average person who got caught up in the end of the world. Paul could handle the stress of all this death but to this guy it was probably hell on earth. Hell, if Paul was honest with himself it was hell on earth to him as well but the difference was he was okay with it.

  Paul took a couple of deep breathes and gathered his emotions before he spoke “I’m coming out so please don’t shoot at me again. I will kill you if you shoot at me again but I would rather not have to do that.”

  He got back to his feet and slowly approached the door, he was bracing himself for another shot to come through the door but it hadn’t come yet.

  Paul holstered his gun and pushed the door open just enough to put his hands out of it “I am armed but I’ve put it away. You can see my hands are empty, I’m going to walk out so hold your fire.”

  Paul stepped out of the kitchen with his hands still out in front of him. The interior of the bar was solid red brick on every wall with a few dart boards and pictures hanging on the walls. There were about a dozen wooden tables spread out across the room that was poorly lit but that seemed to be the standard lighting in run down bars.

  He could see the top of someone’s head poking out from behind the long old oak bar that ran the length of the far wall. There was a pistol shaking in the guys hands still pointed at Paul.

  “Can you put the gun away? I just want to have a drink and relax for a minute before I head back out,” Paul said as he took a couple more steps towards the bar.

  “Stop moving!” the guy shouted nervously from behind the bar as the gun shook in his hands like a leaf on the wind.

  “Just calm down, I’m not going to take another step. Just put the gun away and we can have a calm talk,” Paul said as he sat down at a table next to him.

  “If you feel like it can you pour me a double shot of whiskey,” Paul said with a smile as he tried to calm the guy down but he knew if this guy didn’t calm down soon then he was going to have to take him out.

  He was really hoping it didn’t come down to him having to kill the guy but if he couldn’t get him to put the gun down soon then he would have to do something. This guy was a couple of shakes away from accidently firing his gun off. Paul could see the guys finger quivering on the trigger and he wasn’t about to let this guy kill him.

  His 1911 was holstered on his hip facing away from the guy so if he needed to he could get to it before the guy noticed what he was doing. Paul slowly brought his hand to rest on
the grip of the gun and began to draw it out of the holster.

  “I’m coming out, don’t move or I’ll shoot you,” the shaky voice said from behind the bar.

  “I wont move so please don’t shoot me,” Paul said with his hand still on his pistol just in case.

  He watched as the guy stood up and after a few seconds he slowly lowered his pistol behind the bar and out of view from Paul.

  “So how about that drink?” Paul asked.

  “Yea, I could use one too,” the guy said as he placed two glasses on the bar and poured some whiskey in them.

  The man behind the bar was shorter than Paul and a little stocky but not overweight. He had wire frame glasses and short black hair that seemed to frame his face which still had that baby face quality to it.

  He came around the bar and set one of the drinks in front of Paul on the table and said “sorry about all the drama before, it’s been a crazy couple of days. And there was this crazy girl earlier that bit me.”

  “She bit you?” Paul said with a note of concern in his voice.

  “Yea, she was being attacked out front of the bar so I opened the front door to help her,” he paused to drink the whiskey.

  “She came in scared out of her mind. I locked the door back up and after she had calmed down she asked to use the restroom to clean up. I showed her where it was and after almost an hour of her being in there I went to check on her. As soon as I opened the door she came at me and bit my arm,” he said as he walked back over and filled his glass again with whiskey.

  He walked back over to Paul and filled his now empty glass back up and began to speak again “I was able to get her off of me but then she came at me again so….I shot her.”

  The young man who looked to be in his early 20s looked completely heartbroken and still in shock as he finished his sentence and his second glass of whiskey.