When she finally got the kitchen table and chairs propped up in front of the door she was scared out of her mind as one of her fellow students banged on the very door she was standing in front of. The door was a sturdy industrial door, but the small glass window in it seemed bare and fragile with his face on the other side of it. She screamed at him. He wasn’t alive anymore. His face had been bitten open, and lips and cheek hung off him in bloody tatters. He hit the window with slow mechanical repetition, staring at her with those lifeless white eyes. She killed the lights and ran upstairs, locking herself in an office.
There were more gunshots too. Many more before the night was out. She huddled in the office as quietly as she could all night. The students who were dead yet still moving stayed at the kitchen door downstairs all night long. She sat alone in the dark for hours that night, hiding underneath a desk. She waited for the banging on the door to stop downstairs. She expected to hear the creak of the steps as her dead classmates came up the stairs to eat her, to feast on her. But the banging never stopped. The horror never beat down the door, and she made it through the night.
She starved for hours. Her stomach growled hours on end as she searched the room for something, anything to eat. She found nothing. The windows in the office showed her little of what was happening on the campus. All she could see was a dorm down the street, the river that circled much of the campus, and part of the school’s cafeteria. Early in the morning as the sun started to rise she saw the coach that had been bitten stagger out of the cafeteria, his grey hooded sweatshirt stained burgundy from his blood. He was dead. He was still walking.
It wasn’t long after that she started to hear music coming from outside. Something upbeat and trendy. It came from the other side of the building, but it was muffled. It wasn’t long after the music started the streams of the dead started to form. Dozens of the undead came out from their previously hidden resting spots. They all moved with stiff legs, jaws reflexively going up and down, trying to eat the sound that was drawing them in. Abigail still shudders when she thinks of their looks of blank hunger. The memories almost make her feel as cold as the late December air in her living room now. The memories made her feel cold even back then, back in the warmth of June.
Laying on her bed now in the living room, letting the warmth of her breath fill the blankets she still hated to think about the state of the world. She was angry, bitter even, but still thankful for being alive. She could thank one of the good staff at the school for that. Mr. Ring. She started to hear a lot of gunshots after the sunrise. A little while after the music started. Sharp cracks. Dozens, maybe over a hundred before it finally stopped. She didn’t know much about guns, but she knew the sound of precision. One shot, then silence for a second. A second shot, then a moment of silence. She got the predatory rhythm of his shooting down enough that she could tell when he was about to fire again. The shots were coming from close by, maybe the school building across the street, but she never found out.
After a few more gunshots in a different area, she heard the front door open downstairs. Her heart stopped cold, waiting for the undead to smash through her makeshift barrier. Instead she heard yelling. There was quite a pause while she figured out what to yell back. She never did figure anything clever out, she just started yelling; “hey, up here,” as loud as she could. She let herself out of the office and came down the stairs. She saw her debris had been moved, and she was both excited and scared to meet the person who had rescued her. When she turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs she nearly met his ammunition. Luckily he didn’t shoot her, and she didn’t die of fright, so all’s well that ends well she thought.
He gave her the most delicious energy bar she had ever eaten, and they exchanged information in a hurry right there on the steps. He was the shooter from earlier, and his plan was to secure the campus, to make it safe and call it home until whatever was happening ended. She thought it was laughable now, months after the fact that they still thought there would be an ending to this. She just needed to get home to see her parents and her brother that day.
They left the building together. Mr. Ring stopped her in the door and handed her his small rifle. This she remembers vividly. He drew a small sword he had on his belt and he walked across the small yard towards one of the undead classmates that had survived his shooting rampage earlier. The zombie was moving awkwardly towards them. She’d never seen anyone move quite like Adrian before. He approached the zombie with no fear, just deliberate violence and determination. At the last second he sidestepped it to the left, dodging its lunge, and brought the sword in low and fast, taking the kid’s right leg off at the knee. The dead student toppled forward as his foot and calf tumbled out into the road behind him.
Adrian circled him like a predator, all the time watching her reaction. It was like a lion teaching a cub. This is life now. Kill or be killed. This is the cost of survival. He brought the sword down once, sinking it the width of her hand into the head of the student. His body twitched a few times then went limp, and his eyelids closed over his pasty white corneas. She dropped Mr. Ring’s rifle and threw up while he wrenched the blade out of the kid’s head. To this day she can remember hearing his skull crack when the blade came free. It sounded like a coconut cracking, or a stalk of celery being broken. More shivers from her memories.
After he cleaned the sword off she remembers him walking straight up to his rifle and picking it up off the grass where she’d dropped it. He looked around slowly, assessing the campus around them for danger, and then he turned to her and said his final words of advice.
“Abby, if you want to leave, I won’t stop you. It’s not safe though. These things are going to be everywhere, and they’re not even the most dangerous thing you’ll find. Plenty of people are going to be panicking, doing things they normally wouldn’t.” She remembers him looking down at her torn shirt, at her exposed bra. “Things they might not do to a 17 year old girl otherwise.”
The thought of what he meant still makes her swallow some rising bile, even now months later.
“To kill them you need to destroy the brain. I don’t know why, I just know it works. Shoot them, crack their skulls, whatever. Kill the brain, kill the threat, ok?” She remembered nodding at him, wiping the puke from her lip.
“You will need fuel, food, and water. Most grocery stores are already empty, and most gas stations will be dangerous, or out of fuel already. Go straight home. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. If your parents need to, if you have to, come back here. I think I can make this place safe. Be smart. You made it through last night like a champ and you can survive if you’re smart.” He looked around again, checking for danger.
“Remember, if you have to, run. Run to a safe place and hide. Now let’s get you a car.”
They found a small station wagon with the keys still in it fairly quickly. He shut the door for her, wished her good luck, and that was the last time she saw Adrian Ring. Underneath her blankets, still chilly from the cold air in the living room outside them, she silently wished she’d never left school that day. It was probably warmer there right now.
*****
Abby and her mother were making dinner together later that evening. The older Williams woman was wearing an expensive black wool ankle length coat in the kitchen. It was something you’d expect to see a powerful businesswoman wear to her corporate job, not something a pale and emaciated woman would wear in her kitchen. The two women silently did their chores, their breath faintly visible in the cold air. Her whole family didn’t talk much to begin with, and since they’d locked themselves into their house, they didn’t talk much at all anymore. Her mother stood over a trash bin and opened a can of green beans, draining some of the juice out. Abby noted they were the infinitely more expensive “French cut” green beans. It must be a special day she thought dryly. Abby herself was portioning out a can of peaches onto plates as her mother came over to do the same to the green beans. They arranged each plate until the portions were
all roughly equal. The two women stood and looked down at the meager meal.
“Mom how much is left?” Abby asked her mother quietly.
Her mother didn’t answer her, instead she took a deep breath and exhaled, watching the steam drift away absently. She shook her head and quickly wiped a tear away from her cheek.
“Maybe a couple more days. Four at the most.” She looked over at her young, vibrant teenage daughter and wiped another tear away. Even her daughter’s hunger couldn’t put the fire out in her eyes.
“Randy and I can go looking for food tomorrow. Dad can stay here and protect you again, like last time.” Abby tried to reassure her mother with a smile and a gentle rub on her back.
“No honey. It’s too cold, and there are too many of those things out there again. That truck that crashed the other day on the corner brought too many of them near here.” She leaned over and lifted the black trash bag covering the window above the sink. It was dark out, and little could be seen in the pitch black outside. “Besides, we’ve checked all the houses around here and with those assholes at the high school running around town, there isn’t going to be anything left anyway.”
The two women, one young, the other older, looked at their delectable meal of cold green beans and peach slices for a minute. They shared a silent chuckle at their misfortune.
“We can always go back to ALPA. Mr. Ring had the place pretty safe Mom. I’m telling you we should do it.” Abby pleaded in a whisper. She knew her father heard her he would object strongly to any trip anywhere. In his mind the only safe place was locked in here, together.
Abigail’s mother stood contemplating the idea for a few seconds, then responded back in her own whisper, “Tomorrow. Tomorrow when we show him how much food is left, maybe he’ll decide we have to leave. Maybe I can persuade him to see the writing on the wall. It’s not safe here in town, even locked in here. There’s too many of those things, and there are far too many people who think they’re the law now.”
Abby nodded, and the two women picked up their pauper’s dinner plates.
*****
Bringing up the idea of leaving their home did not go well the next day. After eating their little lunch meal Abby’s mom Patty brought it up. The four of them were huddled close to each other in their living room, next to the fireplace. They were finishing off the last can of peaches and a can of cold peas.
“Charles, we’re almost out of food.” Patty made eye contact with her husband, trying to show the seriousness of their situation.
“I know. Randy and I will go out looking for more food tonight, after dark. Those assholes can’t see us then and we can outrun and lose the dead people.” Abby thought he looked strange as he said it. He seemed excited about the prospect of finding more food, but he looked afraid or scared at the same time. Abby had never seen that expression before.
“Charles, there isn’t any more food out there. We’ve scoured every house in this neighborhood twice and taken everything. The people who took over at the high school have taken everything else in town. Tomorrow we start starving if we don’t go somewhere we can find food. I know it’s dangerous but-“
Charles cut her off. “No. Leaving is too dangerous. You’ve seen how many of those things there are just outside the house. Can you imagine what we’ll find if we drive somewhere? Where would we go anyway? Your sister’s place?” He asked in an accusatorial whisper.
“Abby and I were thinking the school. Her school,” Patty replied quietly.
“Are you two crazy?” He said almost laughing. Abby’s 12 year old brother Randy sat on his sleeping bag stiff as a board, watching the argument unfold. Normally he couldn’t be shut up to save his life and now he was paralyzed from the argument. If only one good thing came out of this discussion Abby thought, it was shutting him up for five minutes.
“That’s over an hour away. It’s over halfway through December, those roads are probably covered in foot deep snow or ice by now. We would never make it.” He stuffed his last peach slice into his mouth angrily, chewed it twice and swallowed it.
“Well, you should’ve savored that Charles. It was our last peach.” Patty gathered up the empty plates and walked out of the living room.
Charles licked his lips sorrowfully and looked over at their bleak, unlit Christmas tree.
*****
Two days later on another cold late December morning the parents found themselves all alone in the kitchen. Abby and Randy were in the darkened living room with the slowly burning fireplace. Charles was gently washing dishes with water made from melted snow as Patty dried them and put them away.
“Charles...” Patty whispered.
“I know.” The dad chewed his lower lip as he watched his two beloved children play Yahtzee on the living room floor. Both kids were covered in blankets and only exposed one hand and their faces. Even from the kitchen he could see the faint white vapor from their breath. Their faces were starting to look gaunt, stretched. Too little food and too much stress in their short lives. He had a knot form in his stomach when he thought about what they’d look like next week, after they’d completely run out of food.
“Maybe we can go to the people at the high school. Maybe they’ll take us in. We can work, gather things. You still have the shotgun and a few shells, maybe they’ll trade for that or something?” Patty was talking absently, thinking out loud.
“No.” Charles looked back her. “The people in the high school have no need for us. You’re an accountant, and I’m a civil engineer. Abby has no usable skills and Randy will irritate them almost immediately. We’d be excess baggage to them. We would be extra mouths to feed. I’d hate to think what they might do to you girls too.” Charles face tightened in a grimace when he said that. He’d been having bad dreams for weeks now, waiting for the people in the high school to come knocking, looking to take his daughter and wife away. It was inevitable. He knew they ruled this town now, with their guns and their trucks. They knew where his family lived too; there was no hiding the smoke coming out of the chimney.
Patty stopped drying the dish and hugged her husband tightly.
*****
Charles rolled over onto his back. He couldn’t get any sleep on the damn floor, same as every other night. He’d lay there until he was exhausted, then pass out and get maybe 4 or 5 hours of sleep at best. His 50 year old back had no interest in hardwood floors, but his 50 year old body didn’t want to freeze to death either. Tonight there might not be any sleep.
It’d been two whole days since he and Patty had their private moment. It’d been over a day since they’d eaten. Earlier that day he and Abby had gone slinking house to house further out from home looking for food. It was a dangerous waste of time. Charles only had eight shotgun shells left and that was hardly enough if things got bad. There were far too many of the dead walking around and if they were cornered, he and his daughter would be fresh meat. If they were dead at least they wouldn’t worry about being cold any more. He wondered if all the dead people walking around were hungry, maybe that’s why they kept trying to eat everyone. Another couple days of not having food and the idea of eating someone would start to seem less outlandish.
He and Abby counted 30 of the dead people walking around that day. Moving slowly, bush to bush, house to house they’d avoided being seen. Charles was just as worried about the living lately as the dead. Even if he did fall asleep that night he’d still dread it. The nightmares kept getting worse and worse. Visions of rape, torture and worse would fill what little sleep he would get. At least exhaustion was tolerable. His dreams of late were not.
He looked at his lovely young daughter with only her face poking out of the blankets. She’d always be seven years old in his eyes. Even asleep she was scowling at the cold, and at the gnawing emptiness in her flat belly. He still envied her, despite the bleak future she seemed to have in front of her. Still young, still fit, still funny. She was still in the awkward, lanky portion of her life too, and in a few years he knew she�
�d blossom, and be just as beautiful as the wife sleeping next to him. He’d die for them if he had to. He was fully expecting to, possibly before Christmas.
Christmas. What a joke he thought. The season of giving has arrived, and there’s nothing left to give his family. They had even run out of wood to burn this week. Tomorrow night they’d be breaking apart furniture to stay warm, and after that, they’d have to sit in the car with it running to stay warm. Of course the noise of the engine would bring them in. The dead people.
Charles wiped away the tear at the corner of his eye and steeled himself. He wouldn’t sob in the dark. Despair would not tear him or his family apart. He distracted himself and thought about their options instead. The high school was not an option. He knew some of the people who were pretending to be in charge down there, and he knew how it would play out. The town selectman, a few asshole cops, city council members, and car dealership tycoons. All they were now was petty tyrants abusing their power. His family wouldn’t last down there and he knew it. He could take his family to the homes of his extended relatives, but that was a stretch. The only family that was close was Patty’s sister, and she had an apartment a few towns over that just didn’t make sense to move to. She was in a more heavily populated area, and just getting there might kill them all.
It made a lot of sense to go to Abby’s school. His daughter said the man that rescued her had killed a lot of the dead people that day, and that meant it might be a lot safer. Charles was trying to remember what the campus looked like, thinking of how safe it’d be. He knew it was rural, miles off any real road. He knew there was a large cafeteria, likely left alone when the shit hit the fan. He remembered you had to cross a bridge to get there, and that seemed excellent. And from what Abby said, this man had several guns, and was really quite good at using them. Charles wasn’t sure if that was good news or not.
Alone No More Page 11
