by Scott Toney
We turn to look at each other.
“Should we, like, say something? Knock maybe?” I ask.
“I don’t know. If anyone is still in there then we don’t want to scare them.”
“Yeah, but we don’t want them shooting us, either. At least if we knock and say hello, they’ll know that we’re human,” I reply.
Ben looks around us again, eyeing the horizon before replying. “I guess so. If they are zombies, at least we’ll know when they come for us.”
Ben reaches down, and forcing his knife under the piece of wood covering the letterbox, begins to pry it off carefully, so as not to snap the end of his knife off. Once he makes a gap big enough for his fingers to slip under, he grips the wood and rips it away. It’s noisy and makes us both tetchy, the sound echoes around the deserted yard. I kneel down and look through the letterbox, moving the letterbox draft excluder out the way. There are no sounds coming from inside, and I can’t see any blood on the other side of the door, though the hallway is a mess from some sort of disturbance. I don’t want to poke my hand in too far since I don’t know what is inside.
I clear my throat. “Hello?” I keep looking through the letterbox, knowing that Ben has my back. “Erm, if anyone is in there, can you say something? We need fuel, or your truck. We’re not one of the dead.” I feel kind of silly knelt down talking to a letterbox, and just as I’m about to stand up I hear movement from inside. “Ben!”
He nudges me out of the way and kneels down, with me standing guard over him. I watch the squirrel jump from one branch to the next, giving me a nervous glance and scurrying away again. They seem to have the right idea, hiding up in the trees, not trusting anyone. That seems the way to go, now if only we could do that.
“I can’t see anything.” Ben stands up. “Let’s go try round the back.”
We move to the back of the house, checking the windows we come across, but they all seem to be covered in a sheet or with curtains closed. The back yard is a mess. It has definitely seen some zombie action by the looks of the blood splatters on the grass, but thankfully, and also a little weirdly, there are no bodies.
Ben nudges me and points to a corner of the garden. The grass is black and burnt up from the remnants of a recent fire. I mouth an ‘oh right’ and we move to the back door. There’s no letterbox here and so no way of checking inside.
“What now?” I ask Ben.
“We’re going to have to break in. I need the keys to the truck.” He jiggles the handle of the door and gives it a little shove to test the strength of it. He readies himself to shoulder slam it and…
“Wait!”
We both look up to see a man leaning out of the window.
“Don’t break it in, I’ll open up.” He looks behind him and then back out to us. “Is it just you two?”
“Yeah,” Ben replies, squinting up at the guy.
“Are you bitten?” he asks.
“No,” I reply quickly. “Is that how it spreads?”
“I don’t know, but it just seems right to check, you know?” He shrugs, unsure, and I nod in agreement.
“We don’t want any trouble. We ran out of fuel, we just need…” I look away behind us at the burnt pile in the corner. “Help.” I look back at him and he purses his lips into a thin line.
“I haven’t got much, but you can have my truck.” He looks behind him and then back out to us again, and I realise that he has someone else in there with him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“That would be great, thank you.” Ben looks at me and then to the swing in the garden. “We don’t have much either, but…” he looks back at me and then up to the man as he reaches a decision. “We have some food we can share. It’s not much, but… well, you can have some of it.”
I nod in agreement. We don’t have much, practically nothing at all, but in this type of world you have to help one another or no one is going to survive.
“I’m coming down; I’ll meet you at the front door.” His head pops back into the house and the window shuts. We walk carefully back around to the front of the house, still watching for deaders, but it’s beautifully quiet here, with no signs of movement other than the rustling of the wind in the trees and Mr Squirrel eating nuts out front.
The front door opens with a soft click and a man stands there, the barrel of a shotgun pointed directly at us. We both instinctively draw back from him, with Ben pulling out his Smith and Wesson in retaliation.
“Just the two of you?” he asks again quietly, his eyes never leaving Ben.
We both nod, our shoulders relaxing as he lowers his shotgun. Ben pushes his gun back into his waistband and we step forward to go inside, but the man shakes his head at us.
“You can’t come in.”
“Oh,” Is the only word I can reply with, sounding almost sulky.
“Okay, well if you give us your keys we’ll get you some food,” Ben speaks from next to me, and I nod in agreement.
“Get me the food and I’ll give you the keys.”
“Dude, you were going to give us the keys anyway, don’t be an arsehole about this,” Ben snaps back.
“The names Stephen and that was before I knew that you had any food.” Stephen raises his shotgun back up, pointing it at my face. “Now I want it all.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. Wow, you think you know someone and then bam, they turn out to be a total dick.
“I suggest you go get whatever you have and bring it back to me before I shoot your girlfriend.” Stephen’s eyes flick to Ben.
“She’s my wife, and if you hurt her…” he starts.
“I won’t need to as long as you do as I say.” His eyes glance at me, but avoid eye contact.
He doesn’t seem like a killer. Not a human killer anyway. The pile of ash in the back garden only serves to prove that he’ll kill zombies. A thought hits me.
What if they aren’t zombie ashes? What if they were human ashes? Oh shit, have we stumbled upon a crazy in the middle of nowhere? That would be just my freaking luck.
Ben backs away from us and heads to the pickup.
I look at Stephen. His beard is growing through, and his hair is a mess. His face is tired and worn down with rings of anguish under his eyes, like only someone who has lost too much would have.
“Who did you lose?” I ask.
He closes his eyes for a second, but he doesn’t reply and I know that I’ve struck a nerve in him.
“Was it your wife?”
His nostrils flare, but before I can say anything else, a little voice enquires behind him.
“Daddy?”
Stephen grimaces.
“Daddy? Can we eat now? I’m hungry.”
Stephen’s jaw grinds furiously before he responds. “In a minute, Jack. I’ll be there in a minute, son.”
My shoulders slump as Ben comes back. “You okay?” he asks.
“Yes,” I reply quietly. “Give him the food.”
Stephen’s expression doesn’t change, but something in his eyes recognises my kindness. He keeps his gun level with me, but I see his finger lift off the trigger.
Ben looks at me before nodding and dropping the bag at our feet.
“Back up,” Stephen’s voice is harsh and we step away from the door. “I’m sorry about this. I really am.” He grabs the backpack of food as we continue to move away. He lowers his gun and reaches in his pocket, taking a minute to examine the item before throwing it to us and slamming the door shut.
We look at the keys to his truck in front of us and pick them up, knowing that we’re taking away his only way of escape if something bad happens. Knowing that he isn’t alone in there, I can’t do it to him.
“Give me your keys, Ben.”
I can’t leave them with no escape, it doesn’t matter that he just stole what little food we had. He has a little boy in there, and he has to protect him. I would do the same if it were me. You do what you do to protect who you love.
I jog up to the front steps and op
en the letterbox. Looking in I can see him still standing there, a set of little feet stood next to him.
“What do they want, daddy?”
I push the keys through quickly. “There’s virtually no petrol left, but it might get you a little way down the road if you need to… I don’t know, get away quickly.”
Little feet run over to the door and small brown eyes look back at me through the letterbox. Chubby little cheeks giving way to a grin.
“Hi.” A little boy smiles at me.
“Hi,” I reply. “And bye.” I wave and stand back up before I cry. “Good luck,” I speak to the door, my voice cracking. I know that Stephen can hear me, though he doesn’t reply.
Ben transfers what little things we have into the new truck and as we climb in, I glance back at the house. The letterbox is open and I can just make out a little face looking back at me. I smile as we drive away.
9.
Luckily for us, the truck is almost full and the day is taken up by driving. I can’t help but wonder why Stephen never tried to go anywhere with his family; to get them to somewhere safe. Why has he just bolted his family inside his home? I realise the answer to my own question. There isn’t anywhere safe anymore.
Ben decides to avoid towns now, and when a road comes up to take us to one, he always takes the opposite direction. I don’t know if he is still driving towards his parents’ cabin or if he is just driving to keep us moving.
We stop a couple of times when it seems the coast is clear and each take a bathroom break. End of the world or not, I still have to pee constantly. My bladder has always been tiny, but Ben doesn’t grumble or complain every time I ask to go. I have noticed that it is getting yellower with each toilet trip, though. We have run out of water, and I’m not sure what we are going to do about that. Thankfully for us, Ben didn’t give all of our food away. We still have some fruit in my backpack, though it’s beginning to go soft.
As the sun begins to set, I find it hard to believe that this time last week I wanted my marriage over. That the man next to me, protecting me at all costs probably wanted rid of me too. Life is so short and so precious, every minute a valuable gift, and we have wasted so much of it.
I haven’t even realised that I’m crying, and don’t notice when Ben pulls up at the side of the road and unclips his seatbelt, placing his gun on the dashboard so that he can lean over to me. His arms wrap around me as I cry loudly.
“I’m so sorry, Ben. I’m so, so sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
I push him off me. “No, it’s not. I’ve hurt you so much, I just…” He rubs away my tears.
“I hurt you too, Nina. Maybe if I wouldn’t have been such an arsehole all the time things would have been different. I did this to us, too, you know. You can’t have all the blame for yourself.” He strokes my face and continues. “I drove us to this, so whilst I appreciate that yes, you’ve been a bitch too, I can forgive you for it, because more than anything, baby, I just want my wife back. I miss you, I miss us. I don’t care who did what, certainly not now.” He gestures around us and I nod in understanding.
In the grand scheme of things, the past is over and done with, we have to look to the future now, and my future is with Ben.
He leans over hesitantly and kisses me as if it’s the kiss from our very first date. I feel nervous, apprehensive, and a little bit excited.
“We’ve wasted so much time, Ben.” I look at him through wet lashes and he smiles.
“Then let’s not waste any more.”
I nod and smile, feeling emotionally clean for the first time in months. I finally believe that we can move forward together, whatever the future holds for us.
“I love you.”
“I love you so much, Nina.” He kisses me gently and rubs the tears from my cheeks.
“I need to pee again,” I laugh through my tears and I sniff. “Sorry.”
He laughs and strokes my hair affectionately. “Of course you do.”
I open my door and Ben does the same, climbing out and going to stand at the front of the truck. I crouch down right by my door, shielded by the side of the truck so he doesn’t have to watch me pee. I relieve myself, stand up and zip my pants back in place.
We’re on a long stretch of road, with tall swaying trees and bushes to the far side and fields with a drainage ditch on to the other side. It’s calm, serene almost as Ben leans against the front of the truck looking into the distance; he turns and looks at me and I smile and walk towards him. His face changes and he screams out before I can reach him, and then he’s gone from my sight.
“Ben!” I run to the front of the truck, my hand reaching for the knife that was at my waistband, but it comes up empty. In slow motion, I remember leaving it on my seat and I sob at the realisation of it. As I reach the front of the truck I see Ben on the ground fighting with a deader which has crawled out of the ditch, its legs are a putrid mush attached only by rotting sinew.
It’s biting down on his calf muscle, its hands are clawing at his chest and drawing fresh blood.
I can hear groaning coming from somewhere else and as the breeze hits me, so does the smell.
Deaders.
Ben’s eyes are wide as he looks up at me from the ground, his hands pulling the zombie’s mouth from his legs. How he isn’t screaming I don’t know, but every effort seems to be in pulling the deader off him.
I freeze. I have no weapon. I run back to my side of the truck, open the door, and reach for the knife on my seat, but see Ben’s gun and grab that instead just as a cold dead hand touches my shoulder. I flinch away from it and scream, ducking under and away from the zombie that’s behind me.
Its eyes stare blankly at me, its jaw hanging wide, with a rotten tongue lolling to one side. It groans and reaches for me again and I fumble with the gun in my hand, trying to take aim at it. I kick it away and fire, hitting it in the shoulder, yet it doesn’t falter from the shot but continues coming for me as if nothing has happened.
I fire again, the second shot taking off part of its face, but doing nothing to impede its progress. I shoot until the gun clicks empty and it crumbles to the ground in a pile of rotten mush.
I charge back to the front of the truck to help Ben and my heart stops.
He stares back at me, his mouth open in a silent scream as two deaders are eating him, their rotten black mouths biting and chewing down on his limbs. He blinks back tears, which trickle out the sides of his eyes. A zombie looks up at me with a growl, releasing Bens arm from its mouth as it stands and comes towards me.
I sob uncontrollably, unable to move. Unable to look away from my husband dying in front of me.
“Ben.” I shoot the gun at the zombie that’s coming towards me, but it clicks empty and I throw it at it instead. It ricochets off its head, but the zombie is unflinching as it moves towards me.
“Go…”
My eyes go to Ben on the ground. He coughs up blood as he tries to speak. The second zombie’s hands are burrowing deeper into the depths of his stomach, and when they pull out a tumble of guts and blood are in its grasp. It buries its face into the mass of internals, smacking its lips with greed.
“Go… Nina…” His eyes widen as the zombie tugs and pulls at his insides again. “Go!” His voice screams at me and I finally find my feet and flee. I run and dive in the driver’s side of the truck, Bens seat, and slam the door shut behind me.
The keys are still in the ignition, and my hand quavers on them. I can’t see Ben, but I know that he’s there. Right in front of the truck, being eaten alive. Begging for the pain to stop.
Another thought hits me. What if he changes into one of them? I scream louder, sobbing until I feel blinded by the tears.
Hot tears stream down my face, and I wipe away the snot that flows from my nose. “Ben!” I scream his name and hit the steering wheel in anger and frustration. The zombie bangs on my window, growling at me, equally angry that it can’t reach me. My heart thumps in my chest, my blood
rushing through my veins, but through it all I hear him begging me…
“Go, Nina. GO!”
I start the engine, rev it hard, and slip it in gear before I have any second thoughts. I release the handbrake, and the car shoots forwards and I feel and hear the crunch of his bones under my wheels as I drive over my husband.
As I drive away, I look in my rear-view mirror and watch as more zombies come from the tree line and kneel down in front of Ben.
I can only pray that he suffers no more.
I can only pray that it was enough to kill him.
And I can only pray that I did enough to stop him coming back from the dead and becoming one of the deaders.
The sun sets in front of me, and it’s as beautiful as when it first rose this morning, only this time I cannot admire nor appreciate its beauty.
Tears still pour down my cheeks, warm and salty, but they do little to relieve the aching in my heart.
How will I survive in this world without Ben? Do I even want to? It was only a week ago that I was trying to end our marriage, yet now I would do anything to relive every damn moment of it.
The sun slips below the hills in front of me, casting an orange glow over the landscape. In the distance I can see trucks and people moving. Could this be it? Were we this close to being saved? Or are they just more of the deaders? I drive towards the outcome regardless, unflinching for my own safety. It doesn’t seem to matter anymore. Not without him; without Ben.
As I get closer, I can see a wall being built. Everything from bricks to boulders, to iron pillars are being used to help the wall grow taller. At the moment it’s standing about twice as big as Ben used to be, making it impossible from where I am to see inside. Every able man and woman is helping to build it, and I pull the truck to a halt and climb out. The surrounding landscape is slowly being cut back, too. The trees chopped, the ground flattened and there’s surprisingly little noise considering what’s being done. There are lot of men on guard from what I can see, all with knives and guns.
A man with a gun turns to look at me, his gaze calm and unfaltering.
“What is this?” my voice is hoarse from crying.
“This is sanctuary.”
Sanctuary? Could it be?
“Are you staying?” he asks, his voice stern. “We could use more help if so.”
Am I staying? I don’t know. I look back the way I have just come—towards my past, towards hell and then I look back towards the walls being built—towards the future.
