Erik entered his Jeep and closed the door. His hands shook, and in the dark had some trouble finding the ignition switch with the key. One the key found the slot the engine started. He then pulled the headlight switch to ‘On.’
The headlights revealed a group of slow moving zombies coming toward him. He stepped on the floor switch to turn the lights on bright, and realized the magnitude of trouble they were in. Erik laid on the horn to alert the others. Everyone looked at the Jeep and then at the group of zombies coming their way.
“Erik! Get out of there!” Greg screamed.
Erik shifted the Jeep into what he thought was reverse, looked behind him, and mashed the gas pedal to the floor. The Jeep sprang forward instead. Erik had mistakenly put the transmission in first gear. The Jeep flew forward smashing into several of the walking dead. Then, sped on throwing pieces and parts of decaying bodies caught under the tires until the trunk of an oak brought it to a bone crunching halt, ejecting Erik from the vehicle.
Erik landed on soft ground near the pond with the wind knocked out of him. He could hear the others calling his name. But as he tried to stand, hands came out of the darkness and pulled him down from both sides. The putrid odor from the rotting corpses made him wretch as he desperately tried to regain his breath. Teeth sank deeply into his arms, and he managed to choke out a cry for help.
Gun fire blasted in the distance followed by pellets hitting bodies and the trees around him. One of the dead bit him on the back of his neck and sent a lightning bolt of pain to his brain. Another gun blast rang out, and the gas tank on the Jeep exploded. Darkness consumed his consciousness, his fear faded to black.
Greg, Richmond, and Brennan charged to his aid. Greg with his .357, and the other two with 20 gauge shot guns. They were careful not to shoot Erik, but could do little in preventing the zombies from getting him. The light from the burning Jeep made their targets a little easier to see. Four zombies the Jeep had run over lay on the ground. Each had their head blown off as the three ran by. Five more were in the act of consuming Erik, and it took point blank shots to get them off their prey.
Erik no longer moved. Part of his intestines hung outside his body. His left arm had nearly been chewed completely off. The three looked at him feeling powerless. Erik was gone, and they could not save him.
More of the dead came. The three chose to flee rather than continue the fight.
Big Daddy and the others met their return with blank, questioning stares. It was obvious that Erik was gone too.
“Big Daddy, Hayden, Caleb, Brennan, get in the Mustang. Wyatt, Blakey, Richmond, get in the Wagon and follow me out of here,” Greg commanded. But as the group turned to enter the vehicles, another group of living dead were almost on top of them.
Richmond was the first to fire. The head of a well preserved woman at the front of the Station Wagon disintegrated. Her red wig flew into the air and landed on the hood. Brennan shot twice and brought another down by the front of the Mustang. There were more coming. How many more, no one was sure.
“We need to get away from here. There’s too many of them. Caleb, grab the ammo! Everyone, we need to make it back to the church.” Greg grabbed his backpack and reloaded his revolver.
Richmond and Brennan led the way. Big Daddy kept his eye on the other kids. Greg watched the rear, but when he heard Brennan yell he was out of ammo, he raced to the front and brought down another walking corpse while Brennan reloaded.
The church came into view inspiring the whole group to run faster. The coast looked clear and Greg couldn’t wait to get inside for safety.
Hayden had been running right by Big Daddy’s side the whole way. But when he realized his dad was no longer close by, he looked over his shoulder and saw him a good distance behind. He came to a stop and turned around. His dad continued in his direction but lagged behind. Hayden rushed to him. “Daddy, why are you walking? We have to run. Are you tired? Daddy?”
Big Daddy didn’t answer, and plodded forward with slow, contrived steps.
Hayden grabbed his hand. “Come on, Daddy. I’ll help you.”
Big Daddy grabbed his child’s hand and squeezed it tightly.
“Ouch. You’re hurting me.” Hayden looked up, a cloud filtering the moonlight passed and Big Daddy’s face lit up enough for Hayden to see the reanimated life in his father’s eyes.
Brennan and Richmond made it to the back doors of the church first. Brennan tried the door handle. It opened. Wyatt and Blakey were the first to go in, with Caleb following. Brennan and Richmond reloaded, and stood guard by the door.
Greg tuned around, but there was no Hayden or Big Daddy. He was afraid to call out, so he backtracked in the darkness, his gun ready to fire.
Big Daddy came into view and confirmed the worse. He had turned into a monster just as Chris. His face was covered in blood and had a piece of intestine hanging from the side of his mouth. A sinking feeling in Greg’s soul told him it belonged to Hayden.
“Big Daddy . . . Shane . . . I’m sorry . . . so sorry.” Greg raised his revolver and fired. He turned and headed for the church, not knowing how he was going to tell Shane’s kids their father and brother were gone.
The flickering sign in front of the church caught Greg’s eye. A low buzzing sound oscillated until it returned to full brightness. The sign read: ‘This Sunday join us for The Lord’s Supper.’ Greg wondered what the morning would bring.
Before he was within fifty feet from the back door, a large group of walking dead came around the east side of the church. Richmond and Brennan unloaded their weapons into them, trying to buy time for Greg to arrive.
“Go back inside. All of you!” Greg unloaded his gun too, but the zombies kept coming.
The two boys went back in the church and reloaded. But as they were about to leave and continue the fight, Greg was overwhelmed by the savage carnivores. He was grabbed by his arms and legs and literally torn apart and devoured. His sons and nephews watched in shock.
Richmond pulled everyone back in the church and closed the door. He found a chair in a nearby room and shoved it under the handle so it couldn’t be opened.
Wyatt and Blakey cried. Brennan had started to tear up too. Richmond whistled loudly and made a V sign with his right index and middle finger. “Akela!” he said raising his hand high. “Akela!” The four understood. Akela was the great gray Lone Wolf who led the Pack by strength and cunning. A command they learned when they were Cub Scouts.
Richmond now claimed leadership. With their parents gone, and Richmond being the oldest, no one protested.
Richmond pointed at them. “Remember Scout Law: I can face danger even when I am afraid.”
The three choked back their tears and waited for Richmond’s instructions.
“All right, guys. We’ve got to secure this building,” Richmond said. The others nodded in silence. Richmond led the way, and Brennan brought up the rear.
The back hallway leading to the Sunday school rooms and nursery were empty, and the windows closed and locked. But they weren’t so lucky when they entered the main sanctuary. There were two of the undead staggering around the pews. The front doors were closed but probably unlocked just like the back.
The two zombies were easy pickings. They couldn’t climb over the pews. Richmond and Brennan moved two rows between the targets and blasted them in the head. The zombie’s arms grasped over the pews into thin air as they met their demise.
The other three pulled down one of the large curtains that framed a stained glass window. They removed the thick ornate rope, and tied it to the bars of the doors in front, securing it also.
“Are there any more doors that go outside?” Richmond asked.
“The front and back doors are the only ones we come in,” Wyatt said. He and Blakey were members of the church.
“Well, there’s still one more wing we need to check out.” Richmond nodded toward the open hallway on the left side of the altar. “Brennan and I will lead. Get behind us, and keep your eyes ope
n.”
The five walked past the pews and the altar. An access way on the right led up to the baptismal, which was located behind the choir seating. The choir sat above the altar, not far from the Preacher’s podium. To the left a door leading to the baptismal was open. To the right, a door that led to somewhere behind the choir seating. On the opposite side of the access way was a short hall that led to a door. That door had the possibility of opening to the outside.
“We’ll check that door first, and then come back to the baptismal. We can’t let any more of them get in.” Richmond moved the group to the end of the hall. The door was slightly ajar. Richmond looked through the crack but could see nothing in the dark room. He ran his hand along the side of the wall and flipped on the light switch. It was the Pastors office. He slowly opened the door with Brennan in position to fire. The door squeaked open, and everyone let out a sigh of relief when they saw it was empty.
There were bookcases along the walls aligned with pictures and books of every color and size. The Pastor’s large pine desk had an old leather chair neatly pushed in behind it.
There was a door that opened to the outside on the north wall. It was closed. It had a hand operated deadbolt that allowed the Pastor to leave, but kept unexpected visitors out.
“I’ll go check the lock,” Brennan said. He tested the deadbolt and found it locked. For good measure, he pushed the lock button on the knob just to make sure it was secure also.
A knock on the door startled him. He jumped back and leveled his gun at the door.
“Come on, Brennan. Let’s get out of here. We can block this door in the hall too,” Richmond ordered.
The knock came again. “No, wait . . . listen.” Brennan held his open palm toward Richmond. The same sequences of knocks occurred again. “That’s our knock! That’s our Den 9’s secret knock! Three knocks, then two. That may be Hayden or Dad out there. I need to let them in!”
“No! Don’t open that door!” Richmond yelled. But before he could move, Brennan had already turned the deadbolt and opened the door.
“Erik! Hey it’s, Erik! Oh no—” Brennan was jerked outside. The door flew wide open. By the time Richmond made it across the room Erik had Brennan in a headlock with his right arm, eating at his nose and face. He couldn’t shoot Erik without hitting Brennan and was forced to close the door before other members of the undead came in. Richmond sat by the door, exhausted. He was thankful that Brennan’s screams for help didn’t last very long.
Caleb stood in the doorway with Wyatt and Blakey behind him.
“I told him not to go . . . I told him.” Richmond started to cry. But no, he knew he had to be strong for the rest. He sniffed back his tears and pulled himself off the floor. “Let’s go back in the sanctuary. I want to make sure nothing is hiding in there to trap us when we check out that other door.” They were down to one weapon, Richmond’s shotgun. Brennan’s gun was outside.
The four made their way back into the main sanctuary. Richmond told the other three to wait by the altar. He made a pass down each aisle, looking across each row of pews for hiding zombies. There were no new threats.
Richmond returned to the altar. Wyatt and Blakey were there, and the backpack of ammo, but no Caleb.
“Where’s Caleb?” Richmond asked.
“He said he was thirsty. He said he was going to drink from the baptismal,” Blakey offered innocently.
“Hey guys! I’m up here!” said Caleb, waving both arms. A fine red velvet cloth draped in front of the baptismal covered it from view. For an actual baptism, the cloth was removed so the congregation could witness the symbolic death and resurrection of being born again.
“There’s water in here. Come get some,” Caleb cupped his hands and slurped down a mouthful.
“Get back here, Caleb! We haven’t finished checking the building!” Richmond yelled.
Caleb ignored him and stuck his hands back in the water. “Ahhhhh. Water.”
“Caleb!” Richmond’s scolding was cut short as Caleb disappeared head first into the baptismal waters.
Water splashed violently about, wetting the red velvet cloth and the choir area. A rotting corpse rose up, grasping a flailing Caleb by his wrist. Richmond had no clear shot at the zombie.
The animated corpse’s teeth chomped down on Caleb’s neck. His scream reverberated throughout sanctuary. In sheer panic, Richmond aimed his shotgun at the baptismal, but away from Caleb and his attacker. He pulled the trigger and blasted the left side. Glass shattered and water flooded onto the choir area, spilling Caleb and the zombie into the open.
Caleb was free and rolled on his side away from the hungry corpse. Richmond shot three times in rapid succession. He couldn’t afford to miss. The zombie’s head and chest were blasted into the carpet, staining it black and green.
The three raced onto the altar and then up the choir area to Caleb’s side. He spat out water and shook from his near death experience. Some of the birdshot hit the left side of his body. There was a nasty bite on his neck, and his arms and legs had cuts from landing on the broken glass.
“Are you okay?” Blakey asked.
“I think so. I landed on my arm. It hurts really bad.” Caleb winced in pain.
Richmond looked at Wyatt. They both knew what was going to happen next. Richmond told Blakey to stay and took Wyatt aside to speak to him alone.
“He’s going to turn into one of them. Just like Uncle Chris and Erik. You know what we’re going to have to do,” Richmond said.
“But we can’t. That’s Caleb. We can’t kill him. Maybe he won’t turn into a zombie,” Wyatt reasoned.
“We can’t take that chance,” Richmond said. Wyatt dropped his head in thought, and Richmond looked for the inner strength to kill his cousin.
“Let’s tie Caleb up and see what happens. We’ll untie him if he doesn’t turn, or we’ll just keep him tied up until we can bring him to a doctor. A doctor may be able to cure him,” Richmond offered hope.
“Yeah. Let’s do that,” Wyatt said, and ran off to find something to tie Caleb with.
They found an equipment box containing many lengths of microphone cable. Richmond and Wyatt each took two.
“Caleb. We’re going to tie you up,” Richmond said. Caleb was lying still, looking up at the ceiling. He blinked his eyes as if in hope to awake from a bad dream.
The two went to work and tied Caleb’s legs and arms together. Making a square knot with the stiff microphone wire proved a challenge.
Caleb closed his eyes again and seemed to drift off to sleep. Blakey bent over him, praying for his cousin not to die.
Caleb’s eyes sprung opened wide, the red glow signaling his cross to the other side. He let out a snarl that sent the other three back several feet. The presence of evil thickened the mood and chilled the boys to the bone.
“He’s one of them now,” Blakey said, tears rolled down his cheeks.
Caleb twisted his head about. His teeth gnashed into thin air. The sight was almost unbearable for the three to look upon.
“We can’t stay in this room. Caleb is going to drive us crazy,” Richmond said. He opened the ammo sack and reloaded his shot gun. “Blakey, you carry the ammo now. Wyatt, back me up and be ready hand me some shells if I have to shoot again. There’s still one more door we have to check before we can try and get some rest.”
Richmond made sure the safety was off and that his finger was not in the trigger guard. The three headed back to the access way that led to the baptismal and the other door.
“Okay. I’m going in. Stay close, but not too close.” Richmond opened the door and was surprised to see stairs leading down into a basement. “Great. The pull chain for the light is at the foot of the stairs.”
There was enough light shining down the steps to where he didn’t have to worry about tripping. But his limited view of the room made him uncomfortable. He took one step and tried to peer though the darkness. He waited a little while for his eyes to adjust and took another step. Everythin
g was quiet. He looked behind and told Wyatt to move because he was blocking some of the light.
He was halfway down the stairs on his six step when a black hand of decaying flesh appeared from the side grabbing his gun barrel and jerked him down to the floor. Richmond landed face first at the foot of the stairs. His gun flew out of his hands, and the zombie fell on him.
Wyatt and Blakey screamed. The jaws of the savage corpse went to work on Richmond’s back. Richmond was either dead or unconscious, as he offered no resistance.
Wyatt was scared and thought he might have peed on himself a little. He wanted to go get the gun but was afraid of the zombie. He knew if he didn’t do something the monster would get Blakey and him next. He took a deep breath and ran down the stairs two steps at a time. The zombie continued to feed uninterrupted. Wyatt picked up the gun and placed the barrel behind its head. He pulled the trigger, and the gun lit the dark room with a blast of yellow. Wyatt didn’t have a strong enough grip on the stock, and the gun recoiled out of his hands to land on the floor.
The zombie lay motionless, still on top of Richmond. Wyatt tried to reach the pull chain for the light but wasn’t tall enough to reach it.
“Blakey! Come on down and help me get this thing off of Richmond,” Wyatt called. His hands stung from shooting the gun.
Blakey walked cautiously down the steps, ready to run back up if the zombie came alive again.
“Come on. He’s heavy.” Wyatt tried to drag it off by its coat.
Blakey reached the floor, and together the two managed to pull the headless corpse off Richmond.
Richmond let out a soft moan with the weight of the zombie removed. He rolled on his side, and rubbed his face. “Oh . . . my head . . . and my back . . . it’s on fire. What happened?”
“Rich . . . it’s terrible,” Wyatt choked out.
Richmond sat up, his hands wet from blood that had pooled around him. He looked at the blood on his hands and then at the zombie on the floor. “That thing did this to me, didn’t it?”
Zombie's Honor Page 2
