Our Last Bow

by Edward Punales

  “Ben?” asked the soldier as he walked into our living room.

  “Hey, Dave.” I said from the couch.

  Private David Stamper was about a year older than me. His sister and mom had been killed by zombies while he was out-of-state, at a university studying medicine. He joined the National Guard to kill zombies, and protect other families from getting hurt. He also loved video games, so we got along with him just fine.

  “Hey guys,” He said quietly.

  “What are you doing here?” Stan asked. “Got off duty early today?”

  “No. Ben, I need to tell you something.” He said. His posture was much more rigid than usual. Mom walked closer to the couch, and Suzy’s grip on my arm tightened.

  “What’s up?”

  “Do you know where your Dad is? He’ll want to hear this too.”

  My mom called my Dad up from the basement, where he was cleaning his guns. He saw the look on Dave’s face, and asked what was wrong.

  “Um…” Dave began. “Do you guys remember the blood tests we did a few days ago?”

  We nodded. The government was trying to make a vaccine for the zombie virus. In the process, they discovered that certain individuals were immune to the virus. It was believed that the blood of these people could be used to help find a vaccine.

  Across the country, mandatory blood drives were set up, where people had to donate their blood, and be tested to see whether or not they carried the immunity. Those who were found to be immune were then taken to military bases, where they could be better protected, and their blood periodically drawn for tests.

  Of the two-hundred-million Americans who had had their blood tested thus far, only thirty-four had the immunity.

  And according to Dave, I was number thirty-five.

  We didn’t say anything. The only sound besides our quiet breathing was the movie that still played on the TV. Moe had smacked Curly in the face with a frying pan, and Larry was laughing.

  “The day after tomorrow a truck is going to arrive with supplies.” Dave said. “After it drops its cargo, it’s going back to Fort Russo, and you’re going with it.”

  Stanley was the first to come back to reality. He turned off the TV before turning to look at me. Outside the house, I could faintly hear a jeep driving down the road. I felt my mother’s hand on my right shoulder, and my father’s hand on my left shoulder.

  “Can we go with him?” My dad asked.

  Dave shook his head, and said, “No. Right now the only non-military personal allowed on the base are the test subjects.” He winced as he finished speaking. Even though it was appropriate, there was still something very impersonal about the term “test subjects,” and now wasn’t a good time to be impersonal.

  “How far is Fort Russo?” Mom asked.

  “About twenty miles.” Dave said.

  “And I’m guessing we won’t be able to visit him.” My dad said.

  “You’ll be able to talk to each other through email and webcam. I know they have computers on the base.” Dave said.

  “Can he call us?” Mom asked.

  “Cell reception isn’t really that good around the base. All the networks have been commissioned for military use only.”

  “Wait a minute…” Stanley asked. “We’re related to him. Shouldn’t we have the immunity too?”

  Again Dave shook his head. “No. The only person who had immunity was Ben.”

  “But isn’t it inherited?”

  “We don’t know.” Dave said. “We don’t really know how the virus works, and even less about how to cure it. All we’re sure of is that Ben is immune to it.”

  “What if I want to stay?” I asked.

  “Ben…” Dave said, groping for words. “You know they won’t allow that. It’s like being drafted; you have to do it.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “If you don’t…they’ll come and take you.”

  “You’re not gonna lay a hand on him.” My dad said. His hands had balled into fists, and his warm eyes had turned icy, as they bore into Private Stamper.

  “Sir, I meant no disrespect.” Dave said, taking a step back and putting his hands up. He sounded hurt. “I was just telling you how it works. I don’t like it either.”

  My dad took a breath, and his calm demeanor returned.

  “I’m sorry about all this.” Dave said. We were silent. He looked down at his watch. “I have to get back to my post in ten minutes. If you have any more questions, you know where my barracks are. I’m really sorry.” He turned and left, leaving us to sit and process the news.

  “Maybe this isn’t as bad as we think it is.” Dad said later at about dinner time. None of us felt like eating, which was good because Mom and Suzy didn’t feel like cooking. “He’ll still be safe, maybe even safer than he is here.”

  “I don’t want to leave you guys.” I said.

  “I don’t want you leave either.”

  “I think you should go too.” Mom said. I looked at her. “We can’t stop it. And Dad’s right. You will be safer.”

  “Yeah, exactly.” Dad added with a soft smile. “And you’ll be helping to find a cure.”

  “There’d be no telling how long you’d be gone.” Suzy said. She hadn’t left my side since we’d heard the news. “Even if they’re able to get rid of the zombies, they might still want to keep people like Ben on-base to continue doing tests.”

  “We have no other choice.” Dad said. “How would we be able to keep him here?”

  “We could run away.” Stanley said. “Hide him in the forest. I could go with him.”

  Dad gave him a look, and said, “And have both of you be that much more venerable to zombies?”

  “But he can’t go!” Stan said. He was glass-eyed, and it was spreading over the table. “I mean…if, if he goes…who am I gonna play Street Fighter with?” A small, joking smile appeared on his face, before quickly vanishing.

  I tried to lighten the mood. “Dude, it’s not like we could bring the laptop with us. Where could we charge it?” It didn’t work. Everyone was still silent.

  After all that had happened, after our home had become a warzone, after people had been forced to hid like rats, the only thing we could count on was that we had each other. The only thing that kept me from having a nervous breakdown, was knowing that I still had the people I loved.

  And that was going away. And there was no way to stop it.

  What was I going to do? What were we going to do?

  Then Suzy started laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “I just pictured you two going on the run, playing Street Fighter on your laptop in the woods.” She was giggling.

  “Yeah.” I said. “Dodging military patrols by day, kicking Stanley’s ass by night.”

  “We’d need to pack lots of snacks.” Stanley said, mock seriously. “At least several months’ worth.”

  “But we’d need to ration it.” I said, also mock seriously. “There’d be no telling how long it’d be before we found an abandoned convenience store.”

  Suzy was still laughing. Even Mom and Dad started to have a chuckle.

  “And hey, maybe we could challenge the zombies to a few rounds.” Stanley said.

  “That’s it!” I said.

  “What is?” Stanley asked.

  “We will get the zombies hooked on Street Fighter! Once they see the glory that is human video game design, they will see the error of their ways, and surrender.”

  “Mass undead seppuku.” My brother nodded. “It’s perfect.”

  “Isn’t seppuku when you stab yourself in the stomach?” Dad stopped laughing to ask. We all looked at him. He shrugged and said, “I heard something about it on History Channel once.”

  “Well I meant it as a form of honor suicide.” Stan said.

  “Well yeah but the only way to kill a zombie is to inflict a serious head injury.” Dad said. “Stabbing them in the gut ain’t gonna do shit.”

  The night went
on. We talked about what the word seppuku actually means, whether or not the History Channel was a reputable source of information, and whether or not zombies actually could play video games. We hadn’t forgotten what was going to happen, how our sanctuary was going to be fragmented. We’d just found the way to deal with it.

  At about 2:00 a.m. we called it quits and went to bed.

  The next day, Mom and Dad thought it’d be fun to throw a little going away party. It wasn’t much; the grocery store didn’t have cake, and there wasn’t any alcohol. So we just watched some movies, and played video games.

  At about seven, Dave came over with some candy bars he’d stolen from the officer’s tent. We let him play three-player Halo: Combat Evolved (still the best Halo game) until nine when he had to get back on post.

  The night before I left, Suzy and I slept on the couch. We had trouble falling asleep, and talked. We tried to keep the conversation light, and talk about other things. But it’s very difficult to talk about upcoming movies and video games, when the companies that make them have shut down due to an apocalypse.

  In the end, we talked about how we were going to miss each other, and how we would talk as often as we could.

  The supply truck that was to take me away from my family arrived at a quarter past ten in the morning. We stood at the gas station where they were unloading the supplies. I said my goodbyes.

  “We’ll talk to you every day.” Dad said, shaking my hand. Of the five of us standing there, he was the only one whose eyes were not watery.

  “Be safe, and listen to what the soldiers tell you.” Mom said.

  “Don’t die.” Stanley said, giving me a wry smile.

  “Same to you asshole.” I said. He laughed, and for the first time since I was twelve, I hugged my brother.

  “Those zombies have never seen me with a rifle.” He said. I turned to Suzy. Tears were running down her cheeks, and I took her in my arms.

  “I love you.” I said.

  “I love you too.” She said. We kissed. It was sweet and painful at the same time.

  When it was over, I felt more arms wrap around me. There we stood, in the presence of armed troops, acting like it was the last time we’d ever see each other.

  “Um…” said a voice from behind me. We turned and saw the driver of the truck; a tall mustached corporal with an olive green cap. “The Sarge says we gotta get going.”

  I nodded, and slowly shuffled away from my family. The corporal opened the passenger door, and I climbed aboard.

  “You don’t have to worry.” I heard the corporal tell my family as he walked around the side of the truck. “We’ll take good care of him.”

  “You better.” My dad said.

  The solider remained silent, and walked over to the driver seat. He climbed aboard, and immediately started off down the road. I looked out the window, and watched the town I’d lived in my whole life shrink in the rear-view mirror. I prayed I would see it again.

  VII

  The stretch of highway I rode on was littered with zombies.

  There weren’t that many at first, they were never bunched too closely together, and I was able to avoid them easily.

  But the number of zombies increased as I approached the city, and I thought about turning back a few times. It would’ve been so easy. But I knew what lay back there. I knew there would be nothing and no one.

  But there was still hope in Brooks.

  Besides, if I remembered correctly, the fortress cities often reported having legions of zombies at their gates, attracted by the sounds of human activity. Therefore it wouldn’t be unusual for there to be all these zombies so close to the city.

  One thing that did concern me was how I would get into the city. The task of getting to the city seemed so difficult, that I hadn’t spent much time thinking about what I’d do once I got there.

  As far as I knew, the people who lived in the fortress cities were notoriously isolationist; no one in or out. It made sense. Supplies, space, and food were difficult enough to come by as it was. Why risk squandering what you had, when you could just turn people away at the gate?

  The roads to the city would no doubt be barricaded, and probably have armed guards. What would I do when they told me to fuck off? And what if they didn’t tell me anything? What if they just shot me on sight? Better to kill me then, and not risk me joining the ranks of the undead.

  I tried not to think of these things. Brooks was the closest thing to a legitimate hope I had. It was either that or nothing.

  The number of zombies on the road kept increasing. The sound of wind whistling through the trees, my rotating bike chains, and undead moans were the only things that could be heard. The days when the highways were crammed with cars, with people going to work, home, and the grocery store, seemed like distant memories of a bygone era.

  Those people going to work, home, and the grocery store, with their lives and families, were gone; their cars discarded on the side of the road, to be scavenged by the few survivors that remained. Thinking about it made me feel like an old man trying to remember what life was like before TV.

  I put these thoughts out of my head, and continued down the road.

  At some point about mid-afternoon, I eventually passed a green road sign which read “Brooks, 10 miles.” Four zombies milled about in front of the sign, aimlessly staring at the white lines painted on the road. They noticed me as I passed, and it took a moment for their feeble minds to register my presence. Immediately, they stretched out their decaying arms to me, and made chase.

  Though chase is a very strong word. Shambling might be more appropriate. I didn’t think much of it. I figured I’d lose them pretty quickly, my bike was much faster.

  But I hadn’t counted on the cars. That was another thing that’d increased in number as I approached the city. They were spread all over the highway. Some were on fire, some of them were missing doors or tires, but they all sat there, in a zig-zag pattern. Normally when I rode up to an obstacle like an abandoned car or a piece of debris, I’d just stop my bike and walk around it. But that’s a little difficult when you’re being followed by a group of creatures that want to eat you.

  A few more zombies on the road noticed me, and also took chase, joining the four that pursued me. It was like they were a river, and the new zombies on the road were simply getting caught in its current. Their growls and snarls sent chills down my spine as I swerved around cars, and tried not to crash into anything.

  At one point I got stuck. I was trying to ride in-between two cars that had stopped right next to each other. There was a small gap in-between them. By the time I’d noticed it, it was too late to try and go around them. I just plowed on through, hoping I’d fit. I didn’t.

  The gap grew narrower as I rode, and part way through, the pedals of my bike refused to rotate. I looked down. My bike was wedged between the two cars. I’d push down on the pedals, and they would just slowly scrap against the metal on the cars’ doors.

  I turned back. The throng of the living dead continued their pursuit. I could already smell their rotting stench.

  “Shit.” I said. As quickly as I could, I got off the bike by climbing over the back tire. I tried to pry it loose from where it was wedged, scraping the paint of the cars. The inhuman moans grew louder. Most of them were still a good fifteen yards away. A few had gotten within ten yards, and two had gotten within ten feet. They were moving very slowly, but I’d stopped moving completely, and they were catching up.

  I tried to figure out what to do. I couldn’t go back out and go around, that’d put me right in the path of the zombies. I looked forward. I could push the bike out behind me, and quickly squeeze my body through the front of the gap, and make a run for it.

  Then I saw the three zombies milling about a few yards down the road. I was pretty sure I could outrun those three; it was the dozen or so behind me I worried about. Zombies were like bees; you could deal with one or a handful, but God help you if you got a swarm. I was deal
ing with a swarm, and I needed to be as fast as possible.

  I grabbed my bike, pulled it back out of the gap, and lifted it above my head. As fast as I could, I squeezed my way out of the narrow gap. Once I’d cleared the gap, I set the bike on the ground, and looked behind me. The two zombies at the front were closing. I looked forward, and saw the three new zombies making their way to me. There was a gap between the two of them that looked big enough for me to ride through.

  I hopped back on the bike, and rode through the two zombies. Cold decomposing fingertips slid over my arm, as one of them tried to grab me. I got away, and they joined in the throng.

  After a few minutes, I came to a sign that said “Brooks, 2 Miles.” I breathed a sigh of relief, just as the pile-up came into view. It appeared as a wall of cars that ran through the middle of the highway. Just beyond, I could see the distant skyscrapers that I’d seen in the brochure pictures. They didn’t have their lights on, but that was to be expected.

  I guessed the pile-up had been made, or at the very least made denser, on purpose by the people living in Brooks. The barricade was primarily comprised of vans, and small trucks. Wedged in-between the vehicles were all manner of shopping carts, large pieces of plywood, and even a few tables and office desks. I didn’t see any guards patrolling the perimeter, as I’d originally expected. I tried not to think about that. Maybe I was too far away to see them. Maybe they were further down. Maybe zombies had invaded the city, and they had to retreat further inward.

  Or maybe there were no more guards.

  No, I told myself. There were guards, because there were people. I just hadn’t seen them yet. That was it.

  My eyes scanned the makeshift barrier, trying to find an opening through which I could ride my bike, but found none. This wasn’t designed to be some kind of gate, through which travelers could be go in-and-out. This was to keep stuff out, no more, no less.