Forest Park: A Zombie Novel (31 page)

He froze.

He couldn’t run back and slam the door --- he couldn’t even move --- but what else could he do?

I could fight?

A man with a bloodied white shirt lunged toward Charlie. The expression on the Dead things face seemed madder than anything Charlie had seen before, far angrier than Susan had at any time been with him. Its lip arched, revealing chipped and missing teeth.

In the background, other creatures begin to move toward the bridal store; it was as if they sensed something was happening, something exciting, maybe a chance to consume something intense and alive, and something, which quivered to the touch and would saturate them in warm blood.

Charlie turned to Susan. “You better shut the door or help me,” he said as he attempted to step backward, but was still unable to move.

Susan raised the Colt and fired.

And then she ran once more.

Charlie leaned to his side and tumbled over like a redwood.

He tried to raise his arm to protect himself, but couldn’t.

He’d been shot.

The Dead thing lurched at him as he lay upon the ground, Charlie attempted to roll out of the way. He tried to scramble, move; he tried everything he could.

Two more ghouls entered the bridal store and stumbled toward Charlie. As Susan rushed past him, and then them, she dodged the two new ghouls with ease.

Charlie began to scream as the Dead things moaned with a mournful delight as fresh blood and flesh lubricated their dry throats.

Turning, Susan watched as three creatures gnashed into Charlie’s ample frame as she raised the Colt in Charlie’s direction.

She saw him twitch, and heard him scream.

Susan then saw his terrified eyes.

More creatures came; they stumbled past Susan. They felt the urge to attack her, but an easier meal was on offer.

The more Charlie screamed the greater a feeding frenzy it became.

There was nothing she could do for him now, save shooting him.

I could save him from the pain, she thought as another creature bypassed her and walked toward Charlie.

She didn’t fire.

My first choice had been the right one --- she had meant to shoot Charlie.

The correctness of her decision, after witnessing the others who rushed Charlie, was obvious. They attacked like sharks do when they sense a wounded fish floundering in the water.

As with sharks, when the feeding frenzy began, the victim --- poor Charlie- - gets torn apart. While the other fish, swim away and disappear to safety.

The sacrifice was one that Susan was willing to make on Charlie’s behalf.

It was nothing like murder, and anyhow, Charlie would’ve wanted it this way.

It was brave of him to die to save me. I’ll always remember that.

In her heart, she knew Charlie would never have had the courage or the stamina to survive; it was only a matter of time before he would’ve eventually succumbed to the dangers of the new world, my world.

Somebody has to survive and who better than the smartest and the strongest.

The world needs people like me to begin again. It doesn’t need people like Charlie; soft, awkward people.

People like Charlie would never survive nowadays, not on your life.

“Help me!”

“I told you not to knock,” she said. “Goodbye Charlie.”

At least he’ll die for something.

Susan turned and ran --- into the arms of…

THE GROCER’S

A LITTLE BEFORE

Steve got to his feet with considerable effort to stretch his tired legs.

Surviving is hard work, he thought.

Now he regretted not buying the red mountain bike he saw at Wal-Mart a few weeks before. It was marked down thirty per cent off the recommended retail price; it was a bargain. Except was I going to ride it? And a bargain is only a bargain if you intended to buy whatever it was that was marked down. Otherwise, it was like paying full price for something you didn’t need. Maybe I should have taken those walks around the block, and stopped eating so much, drinking too much.

His muscles ached, and his head was buzzing with thoughts.

Perhaps next time I’ll limber up before I do anything too active, before we leave tonight possibly?

Suddenly, he and Kathy were in a group, but that was better than him and her being alone.

There’s safety in numbers.

He wandered over to the grocery stores street-facing window as the others, including Kathy, discussed what next to do.

I’m sure they don’t need a fourth. She’ll do fine.

Steve was hoping for rain, if not for his group, then for whoever was still alive in Forest Park. There would be families out there, families who wanted those flames gone. There’s enough danger without being burned out of a hold-out. He wondered if his place was still standing, and were those things still in his house --- maybe it’s better, it burns.

The sun was shining, and he couldn’t see any rain clouds on the horizon --- just the same --- old haze. No rain today, he thought. Outside were a few Dead things, just a handful.

Man, this is all too fucking surreal.

A certain wow factor was there to all that had happened, a stunning unreality.

Steve watched the creatures wander about, staggering slow and without direction.

The first Dead thing he ever saw gave his heart a distinct flurry.

He felt scared.

Although now?

Could they see me?

He chuckled as one of the Dead bumped into and then fell over a pushbike.

Would they sense I was here watching them?

There was a need, a drive to warn the others --- those things are out there...

Except they knew that.

So he didn’t, he stayed motionless and watched, he had to get used to this.

Outside were maybe ten to fifteen Dead things… most were fully dressed ---a blessing.

All of them were vague, lost and disinterested in each other. None of them even glanced in his direction.

They didn’t shield their eyes from the sun either.

They didn’t do a lot of normal things.

Hell, they weren’t normal, not any more.

One of them, a teenager, dragged himself along the ground; its leg at one time must have spewed forth a quart of blood after some other monster had chewed it off.

However, the Dead thing didn’t care and nor did any of the other Dead ones. They ignored the kid dragging himself around, and the kid ignored them as they walked by.

The Dead didn’t hold eye contact with each other, nor did they communicate in any way. A friendly bunch, he thought.

Steve glanced over at Kathy.

She seemed at peace almost. She looked happy, a little normal.

It all seemed normal in a bizarre sense.

How rapidly everything changes.

Then Steve saw something, which surprised him impressively. He felt more than just surprise though. What he felt, when he saw it, scared him.

“Well I’ll be...” Cook said, sounding astounded, “I know that guy. Not by name, but I’ve seen him around.”

Tyler watched the Dead thing in amazement. “Who is he?”

“He’s a Jehovah’s Witness, and damn annoying about it too, a proper hard sell. I’ve spoken to him on more than one occasion. Normally, he preaches from street corners. He’s a full-time, God-fearing, holy roller,” Cook answered.

Steve chuckled to himself and said, “They never give up, do they, even in death.”

Everyone but Tyler laughed; he couldn’t laugh, he was too stunned and horrified to sound out a squeak.

Across from the grocery store, a man wearing a bloodied white shirt and torn black trousers walked from door to door, knocking. His knuckles were red raw. He’s knocking, Tyler thought, deliberately knocking.

The Dead man knocked three times once more, and then waited. With no answer, he moved on. It was persistent. It knocks and then pauses while waiting for an answer, or does it knock and subsequently wait because that’s what it used to do, before it died? Is it just a habit? Save for the fact its behaviors are ordered?

“And nobody’s ever seen one of these things act like this before?” Kathy asked the group.

“I don’t think so...” Steve said.

The Dead thing walked along the path to the next store and knocked again, while the other walking Dead passed him by.

Where did it get that focus from? Tyler thought. Its past faith or the stored memories of who it once was? Was there something of the person still burning deep within its brain? None of the other creatures are exhibiting the same focused behavior, but then again, what do I know of any of these people? Perhaps this where they went every day, or maybe they’re rewiring?

Don’t underestimate what they are first --- dangerous.

“Amazing...” Cook said

If there’s the possibility that some intelligence remains within, it changes everything, Tyler thought, but dared not to say anything.

The Dead thing strolled (as best it could) to the next store and knocked again.

“I have to admit,” Steve said, “that thing freaks me out. I’m just happy he’s not on this side of the road.”

Kathy nodded in agreement.

“Do you think he will cross after he finishes walking that side of the street?” Cook asked.

“I hope not,” Steve said.

“Don’t become too freaked out by this thing. I’m sure it has no understanding of what it’s really doing,” Tyler said.

“It’s probably just a bygone mental tick, like a stutter. Except in the brain,” Kathy added to Tyler’s warning.

“Indeed,” Tyler said. “It’s strange behavior. However, we can’t be distracted by each piece of peculiar behavior we see, otherwise we’ll be analyzing every damn dead thing that crosses our paths. We have to keep a clear distinction of what we are, and what they are. They’re not us; they’re nothing like us.”

“I don’t have any problems understanding that,” Steve said.

“Unless there’s a cure, these people aren’t coming back,” added Cook.

“I don’t think there is a cure for death,” Kathy answered.

“She’s right. They’re dead and there isn’t a cure for that, and there never will be,” Tyler said, as the Dead thing knocked at the door of a bridal shop and then rushed through a broken window after a pause.

Then they heard a shot!

THE GROCER’S

A LITTLE LATER

Tyler held Susan in his arms for a few moments and then hurled her to the ground.

Susan fell hard, but she still retained hold of her gun, and before Tyler could notice, she slipped it into the waistband of her pants.

Tyler glanced toward Steve.

He was in trouble.

The Dead things began to swarm.

Steve led with his left foot and swung his bat; it whooped through the air and slammed into the face of a middle-aged ghoul with no pants, shattering the Dead thing’s jaw.

The Dead man’s teeth scattered over the pavement like dice.

Steve raised the bat again, and then with a single flowing motion brought it down on the crown of the old ghoul’s head, smashing it like a melon.

As the wretched creature fell to the ground, Steve swung his bat toward the temple of the next Dead thing, knocking it down and out of the melee.

Kathy watched as Steve fought off one Dead thing after another, she wanted desperately to help him, but if the door she was holding to the grocery store suddenly shut, they’d be locked outside leaving them stranded.

Steve stepped backward as a ghoul rushed at him from the right-hand side, and then another suddenly came at him from his left. Steve swung his bat again with all his strength and hit the first ghoul, knocking it down; he swung back for the second---

It was too late.

It was on him.

Tyler smashed a small red fire extinguisher (he’d found it as he ran from the store, after they heard shooting) into the center of the Dead man’s forehead, crushing its skull and freeing Steve from its grasp. Tyler, after helping Steve to his feet, then beat a rapid retreat, as Cook snatched Susan’s outstretched hand only moments before Kathy let go of the heavy glass door.

IN THE STORE

While the feeling in the grocery store was one resembling total chaos, Susan took a mental count of her shells; she had survived this far and intended to continue, no matter what.

Susan grasped Tyler’s hand.

“Everything has gone wrong,” she said and then gripped his hand tighter, “forgive me, please. I think I have a concussion. I haven’t been thinking right. I’m so sorry.”

Tyler’s toes curled as she touched him, he felt disgusted by her.

However, who in this place could understand the depths of her lies? Who here could understand how far this wretched woman would go to get her own insane way. Tyler looked at the cut across her forehead --- it looked inflamed, may be infected.

“It’s okay, you’re safe with us,” Kathy said to Susan, as she glanced at Tyler. “We all need each other at the moment. We have to work together. Let me look at that nasty gash.”

“No!” Susan snapped, and then apologized. “Maybe later, I’m very tired.”

Tyler said nothing while Cook watched, not knowing what to say.

A little later, Susan lay upon her side next to Kathy; her eyes were closed. She looked as if she was in a deep sleep. She hadn’t left Kathy’s side since her rescue, something Kathy only realized as she looked over to Tyler once more.

“She’s dangerous,” Tyler said, his voice a mere whisper.

Steve glanced at Cook when he said that, he agreed with Tyler.

“She needs our help,” Kathy added.

“Help is a dangerous commodity today. You have to pick your friends wisely,” Tyler said.

“I chose you!” Kathy answered.

“But I’m not a psycho, and she is,” Tyler said.

“So says you,” Kathy answered, who had guessed, Susan wasn’t sleeping.

Kathy winked to the others as Susan wriggled in her make-believe sleep.

Tyler decided to play along. “Well, you look out for her then. I’m sure she wouldn’t do anything to let you down. We’ll have to leave soon. They know we’re here now, and more will come,” he said before he left the room.

Soon afterward, Cook got to his feet. “I had better have a chat with him. He lost some friends back there, and he blames her for it.”