by William Bebb
Josey limped back over to the doorway and spotted a man's head and groping arms under the bottom dryer. The men or zombies (Josey hadn't made up his mind regarding what exactly they were yet) were shoving the top dryer. Unless somehow braced in place it would soon slide off.
His knee still throbbed and shook unsteadily while he considered the much heavier washing machines. He was sure they’d never be able to move one of them. The only problem was if he tried to lift them he could hurt himself worse, and maybe even throw out his back. The all too horrifically plausible possibility of ending up lying on his back in a ramshackle building surrounded by dozens of zombies convinced Josey not to try it. He leaned his crowbar against the dryers in the doorway and quickly looked around the room.
The candy machine's front glass had long ago been broken out, but its large six by three foot metal frame seemed fairly sturdy if not overly heavy. After climbing over boards and broken glass he pulled on the big machine. It was heavier than it looked and hard to maneuver, but with the fear fueled adrenalin pumping through his system Josey somehow managed to push it over onto its side.
He was pushing the rusty machine toward the doorway when there was a metallic crash caused by the top dryer falling back into the building. With several feet left to reach the doorway, he saw a man already climbing over the bottom dryer with others pushing and starting to follow him inside.
“Come on, give me a break,” he muttered, realizing they'd be in the room before he got to the entrance unless he dealt with them first. He hobbled over to the dryers and picked up the crowbar that had fallen. Turning back to the doorway, he saw the first man fall into the room as two more climbed over the bottom dryer. The boards creaked and snapped as he gingerly crossed over them and swung the crowbar like a baseball bat. He aimed at the man that had already fallen into the room.
“Will you guys just drop dead!” he shouted, swinging the crowbar. It slammed into the man’s torso, simultaneously making a sickening crunch and a juicy wet sound.
The man flew backward and knocked one of the two men still climbing on the dryer back out through the doorway. The other fell into the laundry room and he recognized him as the stranger with the ruined bleeding eyes he'd doused in the truck with insect spray.
His sore knee started to spasm and he gasped in pain. Losing his balance, he fell toward the wall nearest the door. He dropped the crowbar, grabbed onto a board propped next to the wall to keep from falling and felt a rusty six inch nail pierce his hand. Screaming in pain, he looked at his leather gloved hand as several men outside the building shrieked as if in response.
“Shut the hell up!” He yelled, back through the doorway.
The bloody metal nail point poked out a couple of inches through the palm of his hand. As he stared at it, he no longer felt fear as much as a growing anger. Watching the blinded man stagger past him and deeper into the room, apparently unable to tell where he was, Josey bit his lip and yanked his hand back off the nail. He felt it slide sickeningly back through his flesh.
If all that happens to me today is Tetanus I'll be the happiest septic tank drainer in the whole damn world. Josey was growing tired. He was panting and reaching for the fallen dryer again when he felt something grasp a hold of his leg from behind. He fell with his back against the wall and barely avoided slamming his shoulder into the same nail protruding board. Looking down, he saw the man pinned under the dryer pulling on his right pant leg. The man couldn't stand or move much at all and yet held stubbornly on to his coverall pants. There was a glint of steel and Josey realized the crowbar was pinned half under its body.
“You won’t be happy until someone bashes in your damn head, will you?” He asked, grabbing the long board with the nail in it- careful not to stab himself again. Josey swung it at the man’s head. It hit with a loud cracking noise and his head split open like a rotten soft boiled egg. A foul stench filled the air as his grayish green colored brains spilled through the shards of bone, which were all that remained of the skull. Josey felt his stomach almost heave again as he saw the others had already started coming back inside. He swung the board toward the entrance where the others were. It knocked them back through the doorway. He threw the board after them shouting, “Piss off! Go eat someone else! I saw some fat cripples in wheelchairs just down the road! Go get them!”
Grabbing onto the fallen dryer, he lifted it using his good leg as much as possible and crammed it tightly into the doorway. He wedged it in hard so it wouldn't slip off as easily as before. Taking a minute, he double checked the man who had made it in with his mangled eyes. He was on his back making pitiful grunting noises several yards away, apparently having fallen over some debris and getting himself stuck. Josey ignored him and limped slowly back to the candy machine. As he reached out to grab it he noticed his right glove had begun dripping red splotches of blood and his hand felt numb. Swearing a long stream of colorful profanities, he pushed the machine the last few feet and propped it against the dryers in the doorway. Still not satisfied with the improvised barricade, he jammed boards against both the candy machine and the dryers.
After another few minutes of work on the doorway, he retrieved his crowbar and went over to the blind man tangled in the debris of the collapsed roof.
He never imagined it possible to feel pity for a zombie. But as he stared down at the sightless man yelping and pulling fruitlessly at his bleeding leg, which was entangled in some electrical wiring and rafters scattered on the floor, he couldn't help himself. He heard the men outside, mostly grunting and snorting. Others continued to scream as they pounded at the barricade while he looked down at the closest one and studied him. Josey couldn't help being reminded of the rabbit he'd killed earlier.
The man with the ruined eyes continued to try and get loose from the debris while yelping almost like a pitiful animal caught in a trap.
There was a thought itching at the back of Josey’s mind as he stared down, yet he couldn't make it clearer no matter how hard he tried. He sneaked over to the yelping zombie, raised the crowbar, and prepared to crush his head. His shadow fell on the man's horribly mangled bleeding face and it turned to look up at him ‘unseeing’, but staring nonetheless. The sickening thought finally clarified as the crowbar smashed his head and blood flowed. He wasn't a zombie. He was alive!
He saw the tears that had been leaking from the man's ruined eye sockets, down his cheeks, as he pulled the crowbar out with a disturbing crackling of bones. He wiped the blood off on the dead man’s shirt and felt his stomach rumbling and his throat tightening. “I will not throw up,” he whispered.
Looking up at the flawless blue sky, he took several deep breaths then picked up his toolbox and sat down on a washing machine. From the box he pulled out a small first aid kit and found the antibiotic cream and bandages. Having dealt with all kinds of septic tank related jobs over the last few years, Josey knew all too well the importance of having a good first aid kit when working in the field.
After painfully removing his glove he tried to ignore the sounds of the men scratching, grunting, screaming, and beating on the barricade. Popping a fresh piece of nicotine gum in his mouth, he bandaged his hand while trying to figure out what was going on. He remembered seeing a few of the men outside were missing fingers, hands, arms or huge strips of flesh from their bodies, yet they hadn't been bleeding.
Are they all alive? Are they dead and yet able to bleed? Are they somewhere in between? His mind swirled, but no matter what explanation might be he realized the why was far less important than the how. How the heck am I going to get out of here?
After wrapping the bandage tight, he leaned his head back against the wall and tried to think. He pulled his cell phone out of his khaki colored coverall's pocket and flipped it open. The little screen displayed the words NO SIGNAL. He flipped it shut and looked over the top of the walls of the ruined building, at the high hills on all sides of the valley, and wondered, what do I do now?
