by Glen Krisch
“You’re making up a story for why you and your brother split up?”
“No, Dad. Please, you have to believe me.”
His dad returned his eyes to the road and sighed.
“So, where is this hole in the fence?”
“You believe me?”
“I’ll believe it when I see it. But for now, all I know is that your brother is not with you. And that worries me. So, where is your brother?”
“On the far north side, about a half mile west of the cabins.”
His dad accelerated, leaving behind the van and the dead body of Dylan Primrose.
CHAPTER 8
When they reached the fence line, Billy couldn’t immediately see his brother, not with the state-owned side of the fence swarming with countless zombies. The ragged gray fingers of the dead grasped at the chain-link, tugging for access. They groaned against the congested filth in their throats, the heavy cloud of horseflies buzzing at their exposed flesh.
“Oh, dear God,” his dad whispered as he drove ever closer. “You were right … And there he is. There’s my boy.”
Only then did Billy see Charlie. His brother was practically on his belly, holding fast to the end of his leather belt. He’d strung it through the breach in the fence, cinching it closed. Either the zombies understood that Charlie was closing off a weakness in the fence, or they merely saw him as bait. Either way, the horde had focused its energies on breaching that gap.
“Hurry, Dad. Hurry!” Billy said, sounding like a frightened child. He didn’t care, because that’s exactly what he was.
A zombie crawled under a flap of the damaged fence.
“Charlie, watch out!” Billy cried, even though there was no way he could hear him.
Charlie backed away, still holding the end of his belt, and then stomped on the zombie’s skull. It didn’t stop its advance; its bare torso had reached the campground side of the fence as an arm grasped his brother’s ankle. Charlie stomped again. And then again. Then pivoted and kicked the zombie square in the earhole. It slumped over, twitched, and stopped moving.
Billy’s dad drove the Cavalier off the road, through the shallow ditch running parallel to it, and then accelerated into the grass skirting the fence line. Billy held onto the door handle, unable to look away from his brother’s desperate attempt to ward off the advance. He had to give his brother credit; Billy didn’t think he could do the same, could never imagine holding the fence closed in the face of the horde.
The car slowed, his dad easing off of the gas as they neared the fence line. It was far too drastic, far too erratic, however, and the car swerved, and when Billy looked over, his dad’s head had slumped forward, nearly touching the steering wheel.
“Dad!” Billy shouted, and his dad’s head lifted slightly in response.
“Wha—?” he said sleepily before his hands fell away from the steering wheel. The car continued to ease away from Charlie and the damaged fence, a steady idle that jounced them through the uneven terrain.
“Dad, please!” Billy shook his shoulder, but he couldn’t rouse him.
His hand came away tacky with blood. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t want the car to drift any farther from Charlie, so Billy shifted the car into park and the car lurched to a stop.
After a few panicked seconds, he was able to pick out his brother in the chaos.
“Dad!” Charlie said, seeing them, his desperate eyes wide and scared. “Help me!”
Charlie must have thought they had changed their minds about stopping to help him, not knowing their dad had passed out in the driver’s seat.
Billy didn’t know how he was going to get them out of this, but opened his door. As soon as he stepped outside, the lonely, starved cries of the horde became overwhelming. He wanted to cover his ears and close his eyes and never see or hear anything like that ever again.
“Billy! Where’s Dad?” Charlie shouted, his voice almost lost in the undulating group-voice of the horde.
“He’s—” Billy shouted back, cupping his hands around his mouth to help him project. “He’s hurt. Hurt bad. He’s, I think, passed out in the driver’s seat.”
Charlie was going to say something else, but another zombie started crawling through the widening gap. No matter what he did, he wouldn’t be able to hold them off for much longer. Their numbers were far too great, and their sheer weight would likely crumple the fence in a matter of minutes. Charlie stomped on the zombie’s head repeatedly until it stopped moving, until only a flattened pulp remained under foot.
“Pull him over to the passenger seat,” Charlie said. “I’ll drive us out of here!”
“Okay.”
Billy went back through his opened door and tugged on his dad’s arm. At first, he couldn’t budge him, but adrenaline must have augmented his strength, for he soon had his dad—who let out a pained moan—rolling over onto the center console.
His eyes opened, focused for a split second, and rolled back into his head.
Billy pulled until the cords in his neck stuck out, and then finally momentum was on his side and his dad fell over and on top of him on the passenger seat. Feeling trapped under the bulk of his dad’s bloody weight, he scrambled out from under him.
“All right!” Billy cried. “We’re ready!”
Charlie looked from the Cavalier to the fence and back again.
“Are you sure?” he said. “We won’t get any second chances with this.”
Billy looked into the car, made sure the key was still in the ignition. He realized that with his dad sprawled across the passenger seat he would have to crawl into the back of the two-door sedan. He didn’t care at this point, so long as Charlie drove them out of here.
“Yeah, come on!”
Billy waved for his brother to make a run for it.
Charlie nodded and took a deep breath, as if to psych himself up before letting go of the cinched belt. He didn’t make it more than two strides before the weight of the horde tore through the opening, pushing the gap wide enough for a snowplow to pass through unscathed.
“Go, go, go!” Charlie shouted.
Billy wasn’t sure if he was yelling at him, or himself, but regardless, he hurried over to the driver’s side door, pulled it wide, and then scrambled into the back seat.
Charlie was halfway to the car already. No matter how desperate the zombies were, they weren’t nearly as fast as his older brother. But their numbers were overwhelming; dozens upon dozens of undead reached and breached the fence, keening in on their prey: his brother.
“Bill,” his dad murmured in the front seat. “Billy?”
“Yeah, Dad?”
“We got ’em, right?”
“Yeah, Dad. We got him. He’s almost here, but it’s close. The horde is chasing him. We’ll have to speed out of here.”
“Good … you’re good boys. Both of you.”
His dad turned to him, and Billy couldn’t help but stare at the gaping wound in his neck. It was no longer bleeding so bad, but it looked like he didn’t have much more blood to spare.
“You take care of your mom, whatever happens.”
“Dad, don’t say that. You’ll be fine.”
“Promise me.”
The tears were returning, their heat burning down his cheeks.
“Dad—”
“Promise!”
“Yeah, Dad, fine. I promise. Mom will be safe.”
“Good boy!”
Charlie jumped inside, slamming the driver’s side door closed a split second later. “Made it!” he said, panting for breath, but still somehow finding the ability to smile.
Ranks of zombies closed in on the car, unrelenting and with unquenchable hunger.
“Okay, okay,” Charlie said, “let’s get the hell out of here!”
“Remember your promise, Billy,” their
dad said and opened the passenger side door.
“Dad, you’re bleeding. So pale,” Charlie said, and his smile disappeared.
“Dad!” Billy cried.
Their dad leaned on the door frame and said, “And don’t ever let yourselves get separated. Ever.”
“Dad, no, wait!” Charlie reached for him, but his fingers slipped through the still warm blood soaking their dad’s shirt.
“I love you boys,” he said, and then shut the door.
“Charlie, you have to go after him!” Billy cried.
“I— I—” Charlie stammered when he glanced at the advancing zombies. Something in their dad’s actions had excited the horde, or maybe it was the blood soaking his clothes, and they picked up their pace, closing even faster on the car. “I can’t. They’re too close.”
“Let me out of here,” Billy said, shaking the front seat in desperation. “I’ll help him. I’ll keep the horde away.”
Their dad held up his hand and waved goodbye. He shuffled away from the car, away from the direction Charlie would take to drive them home.
The horde, as if sensing an exposed and weakened prey, turned to follow.
“Billy …” Charlie said. “Billy! Listen to me! Dad knew what he was doing.”
But Billy didn’t want to listen to his brother; all he wanted was for him to open the damned door and let him out.
“Let me out of here, Charlie!”
“I can’t.”
“You’re killing him!”
“No, Billy, I’m saving you,” Charlie said, sniffling. He shifted the car into Drive and slowly pulled away from the fence. “Dad’s saving you.”
Billy turned and knelt on the back seat, his face inches from the rear window.
Their dad looked back over his shoulder as the horde closed in on him, and somehow, he found the energy to break into a trot.
Charlie, with only a few driving lessons under his belt, carefully drove the car over the rutted grassy expanse. It was a slow-motion torture.
Their dad’s trot was short-lived. He slowed to a stiff-legged shuffle, moving, albeit slowly, away—always away—from the Cavalier.
The nearest zombie lashed out with an extended hand, taking hold of his arm. He slammed his elbow back, connecting, and the undead thing fell over, causing two more of his kind to tumble as well. The next wave was denser, hitting him as a wall of snaking arms and clasping hands. In his weakened state, he could no longer fight, could no longer even walk. The horde pulled him to the ground, covering him with their snapping maws, their lascivious cries of feeding … the last thing Billy saw and heard before he had to turn away.
“He’s gone,” Billy said. “Dad’s gone.”
CHAPTER 9
“What do we do now, Billy?” Charlie cried. “What the hell are we supposed to do now?” He let out an agonized scream and slammed the steering wheel with his fist. Charlie’s unhindered wail filled the car, echoed long after his voice cracked into silence.
“We’ll do what Dad wanted,” Billy whispered.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means we take care of Mom, and whatever happens, we never let ourselves get separated. Ever again. That’s what Dad wanted. And that’s what we’re going to do.”
Charlie nodded and wiped his tears away and sped along without slowing. He brought the car through the narrow ditch, and then onto the road again, away from the site of their father’s final sacrifice.
Billy felt drained by the time Charlie nosed the Cavalier into their driveway. The still silence of the late morning was unnerving and unreal.
How could it be so peaceful when Dad was dead and miserable scum like Dylan Primrose roamed the earth?
Charlie turned off the ignition, but neither boy got out. “What happened back there, Billy? Why was Dad … why was he bleeding so bad?”
“He saved me,” Billy said, staring at the front of the house. He found it odd that the windows had already been shuttered, a chore usually left for last before closing for winter. His voice was weak when he continued: “I’d be dead by now if he didn’t stop him.”
“Stop who? What are you talking about?”
“After I left you to get help, a man came up on me. He— he smashed my face against the side of his van. He then … he threw me inside and tied me up. And then he started touching me, you know, on the leg? But then Dad showed up, and I started screaming and kicking, and that’s when he— he— that creeper shot Dad.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Charlie said as Billy choked back tears.
“I thought he was dead, Charlie. I thought Dad was dead, and that I’d be dead soon, but then, somehow, he was able to gather the strength. He stabbed him. Dad stabbed that monster in the throat. Stabbed him dead. Dead …”
“I’m so sorry, Billy. It was a bad idea, us splitting up like that. I’m the older brother. I shouldn’t have let you go.”
“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know anything like that would happen.”
“Still, I shouldn’t have let you go.”
“But you got us away from the horde.”
“No, Billy, I didn’t. That was Dad. He distracted them.”
Billy didn’t know what to say. He felt a tremendous amount of guilt over what had happened to their dad.
“Boys?” Mom said, coming around from the back of the house. She hurried to the side of the car and then looked at Charlie in the driver’s seat and then back to Billy and his bashed-in face. “Dear God, what happened?”
Charlie opened the door and stepped out. He practically fell into Mom’s arms, and she embraced him without a second thought, and as she rubbed his back, she watched Billy tilt the driver’s seat forward and climb out from the backseat.
“Why were you driving, Charlie? Where’s your dad?”
“He’s gone, Mom,” Billy said, the words gutting him.
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“A horde got him. He— he basically threw himself to them. He saved us.”
“Not those drunken hooligans again,” she said, not understanding the finality of what had happened.
“No, Mom. The undead, the victims of the flu. After they died, they rose again. And they’re roaming. Feeding.”
“That’s ridiculous. How can you say such a thing? To speak of something so horrible … just speaking on it is sinful. I’m sure you’re mistaken, the both of you.”
Billy looked down at his feet. Trying to convince their mom of the existence of the undead, so soon after witnessing what had happened to their dad, he felt like he might go mad and run away screaming.
“Where’s your dad? And this time, none of this undead business, understand?”
They didn’t need to say another word.
Billy sensed movement in the far distance, down the long straight stretch of road that led to the entrance gate. The horde must have been much larger than he ever imagined. Three shambling zombies headed their way, arms outstretched, eyes vacant but still somehow pleading for deliverance from this damnation, pleading for the taste of their living flesh.
“Charlie, you better get to explaining or you won’t be able to sit for a week.”
“Mom,” Billy said, but she wasn’t paying attention.
Charlie heard the fear in that single uttered syllable and looked over to where Billy was pointing. “See, Mom. We weren’t lying. Zombies are real.”
The advancing zombies now numbered close to a dozen, ambling up the far side of the lane as it curved away from the house.
The gentle hill and dense trees in that direction had always made it seem like their house was isolated, and in the middle of nowhere; now it felt like the loneliest place on earth.
Billy saw the tangled filthy hair of a female zombie as it crested the curving hill that led to the heart of the campground. I
f zombies were heading their way from that direction, it could mean only one thing: they had overrun the whole of Cherryhill.
“Look,” Billy said, pointing to the zombie cresting the hill. She was joined by another female, and then three males, then a whole mass of undead humanity trailing behind them. “We better get inside.”
“We need to get out of here!” Charlie said.
“There’s no way we’re driving through them,” Billy said. “There’s too many.”
He looked at their mom for support, and leadership, but she’d slipped into a semi-catatonic state, her eyes drifting from one zombie to the next, as if trying to decipher something in a foreign language.
“Mom,” Charlie said, taking hold of her arm. “He’s right. We’ll have to wait them out.”
“Come on!” Billy said, and headed for the door.
“Right behind you!” Charlie said, leading their mom to the door.
Billy tried the doorknob, and was surprised to find it locked.
“Mom? Mom, where’s the key?”
“I locked the door,” she murmured, her eyes drifting back to the horde.
“I know that, but where’s the key?”
“Oh, the key. Right. I locked the door, and here it is,” she said, pulling the key from her pants pocket.
Charlie took it from her and tossed it to Billy.
Billy unlocked the door and helped guide their mom inside. Before he closed the door, he took one look at their front lawn, an area he and Charlie had spent countless hours over the years playing baseball, army men, cowboys and Indians. Now the entire expanse was overrun by flesh-seeking zombies. And they were heading for the house as if drawn by a magnet. Billy slammed the door, turned the lock, and then threw the deadbolt.
With the window shutters closing off the afternoon sunlight, it could easily be dusk outside. But it was just after noon, and there was a swarm of undead closing in on them, and their dad was dead …
And, dear lord, Billy prayed, if you’re up there someplace, please see what’s happening to us. Please send us help. If you help us out of this mess, I’ll believe in you forever and will no longer doubt you even exist.
