-39-
I threw together three backpacks with supplies. I know some people had their Bug-Out Bags on standby, but I never really gave much thought to abandoning the bunker. It was probably poor planning on my part, but the truth was that I never planned on leaving the bunker because I never planned on leaving Kara and Lisa. I stocked it with everything we could ever need. The bunker was ready for every disaster and emergency – except of course an undead horde of radioactive monsters.
But Lisa and Kara weren’t with me. Danni and Jared were and that was different. I felt responsible for them and cared about their safety, but it wasn’t the same as what I felt towards my own family. How could it be? With Kara and Lisa outside of the bunker, there really was no reason for me to stay any longer. We could try and wait out the husks and probably had enough supplies that we could make it with a little rationing, but if what Senator Heathway had told us was right, there was no waiting them out.
A few CDC scientists had drifted into Senator Heathway’s camp a little before the soldiers left. With little else to do, they spent their time studying husks and trying to figure out some sort of cure or vaccination. So far there wasn’t one. What they had discovered was that the husks weren’t rotting. They figured that bugs would take care of the rest, but after awhile even the insects burrowing through the husks’ died out. The flesh was dead, but it wouldn’t rot. The only explanation was that the radioactivity had somehow preserved them and rendered them basically bug-proof. There was no waiting the husks out.
“So we’re just going to open the door and let the husks in?” Danni asked. I could see the worry and doubt plainly written on her face. Jared had been silent ever since I unveiled my plan. I think he was trying to prove his bravery. I hoped he wasn’t going into shock.
“That’s the plan unless you’ve got a better one.” I handed Danni her backpack and then passed a second to Jared. “We needed to be ready to run in case my plan goes to shit.” It was probably more appropriate to say
when
it went to shit because I really didn’t see any other way something like this could go, but Danni and Jared were frightened enough already.
“Okay. We’re not going to let them all in, right?” Danni asked. She took a deep breath and picked up her gun. Something was changing in Danni. I’m not sure if she was hardening or if she was just getting used to the insanity of our world, but she suddenly looked less afraid. I was going to ask, but saw her cast a quick glance at Jared. I had my answer. She was getting ready to protect her child. It was the most basic and primitive instinct a parent could feel. It was exactly what she would need to get through this.
“We’re going to do this controlled,” I said. “We let in one or two at a time and use our knives to kill them. Aim for the temple and push until the husk stops moving. Then we move the body to the back and do it again. We’ll try and thin the numbers a bit before we venture out into the basement or use any ammo. No guns, unless you have no other choice. Thanks to Heathway, I get the feeling that we’re going to need every bullet we’ve got.”
The three of us shared a series of worried looks. There was probably something Danni or I needed to say to reassure Jared, some thin white lie about how we were going to get through this, but he had seen enough to know what we were facing.
“Here.” Jared passed my NBC mask to me and then handed one to Danni. He slipped his over his face. “Let’s get this over with.”
There was nothing else to say.
-40-
The bunker door opened with a muffled
whoosh
. The sound always reminded me of opening a can of Pringles. Eating was one of the last things on my mind. Not being eaten on the other hand, well that was pretty much the only thing.
The dull moans rattling from the dried throats of the husks filled my basement. I did a quick count. It looked like there were about twenty husks. That was twenty more than I would have liked to see waiting for us, but it was still less than I had anticipated. Some of the husks must have crawled back upstairs, which would mean they’d be waiting for us. I pushed that thought out of my head as the nearest husk lunged for me. I grabbed its thin neck and yanked it into the bunker.
I had never seen any signs of emotion in the dull milky eyes of the husks and their leathery faces were permanently fixed with a revolting smile, but I could have sworn a moment of surprise flashed across that creature’s face as I slammed it to the concrete floor and Jared plunged a blade into its skull. Danni grabbed the husk by its boney ankles and dragged it to the back of the bunker.
“One down, millions to go,” I joked. No one laughed. I shrugged. Humor had evidently died as well.
I pressed my shoulder against the door and pushed as Jared grabbed the nearest husk and pulled it inside the bunker. The cracked yellowed teeth gnashed together as the monster tried to tear meat from Jared’s arms. Danni stepped forward and plunged her knife into the side of the husk’s skull. It went limp on the floor.
Fingers wrapped in cracked, yellowed skin clawed at the air between the heavy bunker door and the jamb. I pushed harder, but felt my boots slipping. I was losing ground to the countless husks that battered against the other side of the door.
“Little help,” I growled and pushed harder. Danni rushed behind me and pushed.
“Jared, clear the way so the door can close,” Danni said.
Jared took a step towards the door before stumbling and howling in pain. He lay on the floor, his gloved hands rubbing his ankle. The husk on the floor crawled towards him.
“Jared!” Danni cried and let go of the door.
“Help me get the damn door closed!” I yelled. Danni hesitated, caught between the danger outside of the bunker and the one inside that threatened her son.
“Mom, close the damn door!” Jared shouted. Danni turned and helped me push it closed. I felt the light crunch of finger bones caught between the door and frame as I spun the handle to seal the door.
By the time I had turned around, Jared had killed the husk. It lay motionless on the floor.
“Jared, are you okay?” Danni asked. Large, glassy tears glistened in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I thought it was dead.”
“It
was
dead,” Jared snorted. “That’s why they’re zombies, Mom.”
“Jared, this isn’t the time for jokes or bravado,” Danni said. Her voice was stern, but still trembled with bottled emotion. “You were bit.”
“My suit was bit,” Jared argued. “I’m fine. It hurt, surprised me, but it didn’t break through. I’m fine.”
Danni tried to say something, but her words came out choked and short. She grabbed Jared and hugged him.
A thin trail of blood ran down the side of Jared’s boot. I saw it. Danni didn’t. Maybe it was just a scratch. Maybe it was a bite.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s keep going.”
There really was no other choice.
-41-
The husks were thin and withered. Nothing more than leathery skin wrapped around bone and desiccated organs. The stack of bodies in the rear of the bunker reached the edge of the first bunk.
Danni grabbed the next husk Jared passed her. It slipped off the pile and bumped into the back her legs. A startled yip echoed inside Danni’s mask. She spun to face the husk, her knife raised. It remained motionless.
“Just throw it on the bunk,” I shouted. The seconds I spent turning to yell were enough for the husks to force the bunker door open a little more.
“But,” Danni hesitated. “On the bed?”
“Mom,” Jared snapped. “We’re not staying here after this. No one is sleeping on that bed.”
Danni grabbed the husk and heaved it onto the bunk.
“Little help,” I growled and pushed the door. Jared rushed forward and threw his weight against the door. Small puddles of blood trailed behind him. The kid was hurt.
“Jared,” I said. He saw where I was looking along the floor.
“Later,” Jared snapped. He shoved the door.
An arm, like the branch of a diseased winter tree, slipped through the opening and grabbed for Jared. The skeletal fingers slipped through the straps on the side of Jared’s mask and yanked towards the door.
Jared swatted and pulled at the fingers. I reached out to grab Jared’s shoulder, but the bunker door pulsed inward. I was on the floor. The ceiling rippled and pulsed as my head bounced off the concrete floor.
Somewhere in the distance, I could hear Jared struggling and cursing. I could hear Danni screaming as she rushed past me. I pushed myself up from the floor and watched her disappear into the seething mass of undead monsters that swarmed over her son.
-42-
Before my mind went blank, I must have said the words ‘get down’ or at least some close approximation. I really hoped that I did.
The remaining husks were knotted together in the middle of my basement. Somewhere in that tangle of dried out dead flesh and teeth was Jared and Danni. As I pushed up from the floor of the bunker, words spilled from my mouth. They felt heavy and chewed. My tongue was thick. My head packed with cotton. I pawed for my shotgun, swatting at empty air and cold concrete. Something heavy and cold brushed the tips of my fingers. I snatched it from the floor and stood on shaky legs. My vision was watery, but at this range and with a shotgun, aiming didn’t really matter. It didn’t so long as Jared and Danni were down on the floor. If I didn’t fire, it wouldn’t matter either.
The concussive
BOOM
of my shotgun echoed off of the cinderblock walls. Normally it would make a person’s ears ring, maybe even cause a temporary loss of hearing, but I barely noticed the sound. The only thing I wanted to hear was Danni or Jared. Not the dull moan of the husks or the dry scrape of their leathery feet across the floor. I needed to hear the two of them, to hear that they were okay.
I felt something vibrate in my pocket. My cell phone jumped. Kara and Lisa were trying to contact me. The keys were broken and I never would be able to respond. I still wanted to read the message, even if it would cause me pain, even if it was bad news. The grip of my left hand loosened on the pump of my shotgun. It wanted to drift to my pocket, to grab my phone and flip it open.
I shook my head and forced my fingers to tighten and rack another shell. I fired again and then again. Clouds of gun smoke drifted through the basement. Wide, wild sprays of black clotted gore painted the gray walls. My gun was empty.
The last husk pawed for Jared. Danni lay across her son, shielding him from the monster. I stumbled forward, raised my gun and smashed the stock into the back of the husk’s head. It lurched forward and splayed across the concrete floor.
The husk scuttled towards Jared like some mummified spider from the tangled corners of Hell. Danni’s knife plunged into the back of the husk’s skull. The force of the blow drove the zombie against the floor.
Danni’s eyes were wide and shot with red veins. Small clouds of blood crept from the corners of her eyes. I couldn’t tell if she had been screaming or crying. It was probably both. Jared shifted beneath her. She instinctively pushed him back down and tried to cover him.
“It’s over,” I muttered. “Danni, it’s over.”
She looked around the basement. Slowly, she stood up.
Jared climbed to his feet. They were both covered in blood and bits of gore.
“I’m okay,” Jared said. It sounded more like a question than a statement. A deep gouge ran down the side of Jared’s head where the husk had pulled at his NBC mask. Blood ran from the wound and clotted in his hair. It looked painful, but not serious.
Danni shook, her knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor, surrounded by husks. She used her boots to push the desiccated corpses further away from her. Each body left a thick snail’s trail of spoiled blood as it slid across the floor.
“Mom, are you alright?” Jared asked. He knelt next his mother. “Mom? Were you bit?” She had used her body to shield her child. I wonder what that move would cost her.
“Does it matter?” Danni asked. Her words were thin. “Bit? Not bit? It doesn’t make a difference. It doesn’t matter.”
“What do you mean?” Jared demanded. “Of course it matters.”
“No,” Danni answered, “it doesn’t matter. We’re going to die anyway. I see that now. How can I protect you in this world when I never protected you before?”
“Mom, stop.” Jared stood and tried to pull his mother up with him. “It does matter. Of course it matters. Right, Lucas?”
“I…uh…” I turned to walk back into the bunker. “I need to check my phone. Kara needs me.”
“Lucas?” Jared asked weakly. “Lucas!” I could hear the anger rising in his voice. I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“Sorry, kid. My phone.” Covered in chunks of spoiled flesh and fragmented bone, I climbed onto my bunk and opened my phone.
-43-
I walked out onto the front porch. This used to be where I’d sneak off to smoke a cigarette after I promised Lisa that I’d quit. Once Kara was born, I actually found the reason to quit. Kara became my reason to do a lot of things.
Fatherhood was strange like that. I spent the majority of my life thinking that I knew what I was doing and why I was doing it. I was an adult as far as I could tell. Then Kara arrived and I realized that I didn’t know my ass from my elbow when it came to life.
There had been nine months to prepare, but I figured that was more for Lisa than me. I figured that I wasn’t going to have to change, not really. I don’t think I had ever been more wrong in my life.
Sitting on the porch at night always helped to clear my thoughts, to clear out all the crap from the day. Tonight, I was finding it harder to dump the day’s bullshit. Lisa left for the supermarket and took Kara with her. I was supposed to go earlier in the day. A sack of rice and dried beans weren’t going to cut it. Lisa had been pretty pissed – she had been pissed at me plenty of other times, but this time I didn’t seem capable of shaking the feeling.
A light rain began to fall. October was almost over and the rain was cold – even under the protective overhang of my porch I could feel the chill of invisible fingers plucking at my bones. Still, this was one of my favorite times of year.
Halloween was one of the few holidays my family agreed upon. Granted, Lisa always wanted Kara to be something cute, some new Disney princess or a pumpkin or some other taffeta shrouded nightmare. But this year was going to be different. This year Kara had finally been old enough to choose her own costume. Lisa tried to sway Kara, to get her to agree to be the latest cartoon fairytale heroine. Evidently, my genetics were stronger when it came to Halloween costumes selection. Kara wanted to be a zombie, but not just some cheesy, green-faced monster in thrift store rags. She wanted to look like a REAL zombie. The kid had done her research. Lisa protested, insisting on the princess. Kara flat-out refused. Realizing she was never going to win, Lisa sought middle ground and suggested that Kara dress up as an undead Disney princess. I don’t know if my smile or Kara’s was bigger. The three of us worked every night after dinner for damn near a week. It was going to be great.
Screaming echoed from next door. My neighbor, some lady and her kid, had moved in a while ago. Since then I had seen a merry-go-round of men go through those doors. None of them lasted more than a couple of weeks. She seemed okay, I guess. Maybe a little needy, but otherwise okay. The kid seemed pretty together, though Lisa had said he looked lost.
I listened to something smash. It sounded like a plate, maybe a lamp. I wondered who had thrown it. There was more yelling. Now I could hear the kid’s voice too. Something else broke. It sounded like he was defending his mother.
I took a few steps down the porch stairs. There wasn’t much thought in the action. Hearing that kid defending his mother stirred something in the back of my mind, some part of me that had woken up with the birth of Kara. I knew it was going to be a lopsided fight and the kid could use my help.
Halfway across the lawn, my cell phone started vibrating in my pocket. I snatched the phone and looked at the ten digits blinking on the screen. The fact that it was a number let me know that I probably didn’t know the person and sure as hell didn’t want to talk to them. Disappointment stabbed at my heart. I guess I had been hoping that it was Lisa calling to let me know that she had forgiven me and was coming home. I sent the call to my inbox and slipped the phone back into my pocket.
A dull thud echoed from one of the front rooms in my neighbor’s house. More screaming. A lot of crying. I couldn’t hear the kid anymore. Anger surged in my gut and made my head swim. I didn’t know who was in that house. I didn’t care.
My phone leapt and twitched in my pocket again. Angrily, I wrenched it from my pocket. The same ten digits blinked on the screen. No telemarketer or auto-call machine would dial me twice in such a short time, not unless they wanted the Better Business Bureau shutting them down.
“Who is this?”
I demanded.
They answered and I wished that I had never asked. Somewhere in the distance I could hear shouting, things breaking, more crying, but my brain had shut down. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move.
I blinked and life skipped a few frames. There was no more screaming. I wasn’t outside. I was sitting behind the wheel of my car speeding towards a destination that I would have given anything to avoid.
Two patrol cars shot past me. Some Good Samaritan on my street must have called them. The cops were headed for my neighbor’s house. They weren’t coming for me.
Not yet.