In the Lone and Level Sands (33 page)

Three zombies wandered through the rain.
One, once a young man with blonde hair, brushed against the fence’s
wooden gate. It opened a little bit. The blonde-haired zombie
reached out, grabbed the gate, and opened it. The zombie grunted,
and all three zombies stumbled into the back yard, leaving the gate
open behind them.

Blondie’s scraggly hair was matted down to
his scalp. Water continuously dripped down his brow, into his eyes.
This didn’t bother the zombie, nor slow his pace. Large raindrops
pelted his chest as he led the other zombies into the back yard.
Blondie grunted; the sound was guttural and did not travel very far
in the storm.

Inside, everyone was either finished with
their food or nearly done. The serious banter had returned to its
originally playful (and almost unanimously preferred) state.

Ruth stood up and said, “I’m taking plates.”
Charlotte joined her in standing.

“Do you need any help, Mom?”

“No, no. You just stay in here. I’ll take
care of the dishes.” Charlotte took her plate as well as Ben’s,
Fred’s, and Sara’s. She walked past her mother with a certain
twinkle in her eye. As a little girl, that twinkle would show when
Charlotte played more loudly after being asked to quiet down, or
made a mess instead of cleaning her room. How much Charlotte had
grown made Ruth proud, and she wished the world were different so
that she might enjoy it. At the same time, she wondered if, had
things been different, she would’ve noticed it at all.

Ben stood up and walked toward the window to
the right of the mantle. For a split second he thought he saw
something as he stared outside, but it might have been a trick of
the rain. He looked for a moment, saw nothing but darkness, and
then waved it off.

“Damn. What a storm,” he said.

“No joke,” Al said. “I bet the fuckshits out
there are having a hell of a time moving through it!”

Carah let out a small grunt and rubbed her
head. She rocked back and forth. Richard set a gentle hand on her
shoulder.

You’ve got a headache?
Richard
signed. She gave a simple nod. Richard turned to Ruth. “Do you have
any ibuprofen or Excedrin?”

“Hmm,” Ruth said. She walked over to the
hall table, where her purse was. She searched it thoroughly, but
when she had finished, there was no prize. She set the purse down
and looked at Richard. “I can’t seem to find any, but I know we
must have a few Tylenol somewhere.” She left Richard and the others
with a smile and a nod, suggesting that she would be back
shortly.

Ruth’s bedroom was down the hall, at the
back of the house. As she walked into the room, she flipped the
light switch. Ruth headed for the bathroom.

Outside, the three zombies were standing in
the back yard, and several others had joined them. One of them had
been looking at Ruth’s window when she turned on the light. The
zombie shuffled across the slippery grass, toward the house.

The power went out, and the light in the
bedroom went with it.

“Damn it,” Ruth said. She felt across the
room to her nightstand, and then fondled for the drawer. Sure
enough, there was a small flashlight inside. Ruth pulled it out and
flicked the switch. A vibrant white beam shot out and hit the wall.
She shone the light along the floor as she moved into the
bathroom.

The beam of light danced over the medicine
cabinet. Ruth washed the light over all the labels she saw, but
none of them were Tylenol. She sighed and continued looking, the
beam sliding down to the counter. There was nothing useful there
either.

A window shattered in the bedroom. The burst
of glass took her attention away from her search, and she spun
around and looked into the bedroom. A soggy face attached to a pair
of shoulders leaned in through the broken window.

Ruth froze. She wasn’t sure if the zombie
had spotted her. She turned the flashlight off, but not before the
zombie saw the beam.

The zombie started climbing through the
window. Ruth closed and locked the door, then waited for a moment,
hoping the zombie would lose interest. Instead, the zombie groaned
as it scraped its fingers across the door. Then it began pounding.
Ruth turned her flashlight back on and looked for something to
defend herself with. On the counter was a cup containing the last
remnants of standing water from the morning’s dental activities.
She saw a few hair brushes, some combs, an electric razor, Q-tips,
some cotton balls. The closest thing Ruth saw to a weapon was one
of the combs sitting on the marble countertop.

There was a loud bang against the window,
and Ruth whirled around to see a blonde zombie sneering through the
glass and rain. She grimaced and backed into the wall, hoping the
zombie couldn’t get in. To her dismay, the zombies outside the
bathroom broke through the window easily. Blondie leaned in and
reached out with one arm, then fell into the room.

Blondie made it to his feet and reached for
Ruth again. He took her arm in a pruned hand. His grip was cold and
tight. This snapped Ruth out of her fear. She reached her other arm
back for the comb. Just as Blondie was about to bite into her arm,
Ruth turned the comb around, holding it by the teeth, and jammed
the handle into Blondie’s left eye. It made a sick squishing sound,
and blood splashed onto her cheek as she used the palm of her hand
as a hammer, pounding it against the end of the comb, driving it in
deeper.

Blondie’s grip loosened, and he crumpled to
the floor. Shortly after, there was the loud
bang!
that
could only be the firing of a gun, and then the doorknob shook.

“Ruth! Ruth, are you okay?” Al said. He
pounded on the door. Ruth saw two more zombies trying to get in, so
she unlocked and opened the bathroom door. Al stood in the doorway
with a pistol in hand. His eyes were wide, and they darted from
Ruth to Blondie’s body lying on the floor.

“There are two more!” Ruth said, pointing to
the window. Al moved into the bathroom, his feet crunching over
broken glass. He shot the zombies, stopping them in their tracks.
He scanned the back yard briefly, and couldn’t see any more zombies
from that angle. He returned to his wife.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “I went after you
because you’d been gone so long, and I found one of those fuckshits
right in our room!”

“Yes, I-I believe I am. I’m sorry. Are there
more out there?”

“Not out that way,” Al said. “Better go
check the other window!” He went to the bedroom window and looked
out. It was hard to see through the rain, but he could tell there
were a few more out there. None of them seemed aware that there
were people inside the house. “We need to block off this window.
Get Ben, will you, Ruth?”

Ruth nodded. She hurried to the living room
and found it illuminated by several candles, impressed both by how
quickly the others had set them up, and that Al was able to recall
where the candles were kept.

“Mom, what happened?” Charlotte asked.

“I’m fine,” Ruth said. “A couple of the
creatures broke in. I killed one in the bathroom. Your father got
in there just in time.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ben asked.

“Really, I’m fine. But Al needs you in our
bedroom. He needs another hand to help block the window.”

“I’m on it.” Ben stood up and walked toward
Ruth, who handed him her flashlight. He took it and smiled. Ruth
nodded and smiled back, and then went to sit down.

“I didn’t find any medicine for Carah’s
headache,” she said as she rubbed the dots of blood off her face as
best she could.

“Do you want a glass of water?” Charlotte
said. “You look like you could use it.”

“That would be nice,” Ruth said. “Thank you,
dear.”

Charlotte headed into the kitchen and
reached into the cupboard for a glass. As she filled it, she looked
over the counter, and by the microwave was a small bottle of
Tylenol. She sighed, a small laugh escaping her lips.

“Mom, guess what I found.”

“What?”

“The Tylenol.”

“You have got to be kidding me!”

“I’m sorry to put you through that for a
headache,” Richard said.

“It’s okay,” Ruth replied. She looked at
Carah and said, “We found some medicine.” Carah read Ruth’s lips
and smiled.

Thank you very much. I’m sorry for the
trouble,
Carah signed. Richard translated for her.

“It’s okay,” Ruth said.

Charlotte walked into the living room with
two glasses of water and the medicine. She handed one glass to Ruth
and the other glass and the medicine to Carah. Shortly after, Ben
and Al returned.

“What happened?” Charlotte said.

“Ben and I took care of the rest of the
bastards,” Al said. “We moved the dresser in front of the window.
Nothing’s getting in through there. We even moved the bed in front
of the bathroom door.”

“None of them out there know we’re in here,
so we should be safe,” Ben said.

“Thank God,” Fred said. It took several
minutes for everyone to settle back down, and they were all edgy
for a while, listening intently to every tap and scrape they heard
coming from inside or outside of the house. After a while, nothing
happened. It was Charlotte who finally broke the silence.

“What I’d like to know is how those creeps
even got into the back yard to begin with.”

Al froze. “Shit! I must have left the gate
unlatched when we all piled inside.” He turned to Ruth, who seemed
much calmer than before. “Ruth, I’m really sorry.”

“Al, you don’t need to apologize. It was an
honest mistake. I know—”

“Yeah, but you could’ve been hurt. I’ll make
sure to keep my head on straight from now on, okay?”

“Well, thank you, dear.” Ruth smiled. Al
pecked her on the lips.

“Now, while the coast is clear—”

A loud roll in the sky drowned Al out. Angus
jumped, and Fred comforted him some more.

“No, Al,” Ben said. “I’ll go shut the gate.
You sit tight.”

“Well, all right.” Al handed Ben his gun.
“Keep this close.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Ben said, without even
thinking. After he said it, he realized how much he liked the sound
of it. He smiled. “I’ll be back in a second.” Ben headed for the
back door. He unlocked the deadbolt, then the chain lock, and
finally the lock on the doorknob.

Ben made certain the gun was ready, and then
opened the door and stepped into the heavy rain. It was practically
pouring horizontally over him. The wind felt strong enough to send
anyone half his weight blowing through the air like a piece of
paper. He was soaked as soon as he stepped out, and the rain was
nearly blinding.

A huge clap of thunder overhead startled
him, but he kept moving. The bodies of several zombies were strewn
out on the lawn like discarded toys.

I better do what I need to do,
Ben
thought. He hurried to the gate, which was flopping back and forth
on its hinges.

In the distance, on what Ben was pretty sure
was the road, a zombie stood idle. It had something in its grasp. A
bolt of white lightning stretched across the sky, lighting it
brilliantly, followed by a clap of thunder. A few seconds later,
there was another jagged line of lightning. It touched down on top
of the zombie. The bolt met with its head, its arms flew into the
air. It tightened, jerking from the impact, and collapsed to the
ground a second later. A bellowing burst of thunder followed,
making Ben jump. His eyes were saucer-sized. It would have been
horrifying if it had happened to someone he cared about, but for it
to happen to someone on the other team gave him a feeling of
vindication. Deep within, it spawned, rapidly grew, and burst out
through a broad grin on his wet face.

The rain washed over him in small waves,
pounding his back and arms. He held his gun hand at half-mast, but
after seeing a zombie get fried like a bug in a zapper, he felt a
bit more confident standing out there, alone.

A cold, dripping hand reached out. Ben
closed the big wooden gate, latching it and checking to make sure
it couldn’t open. He looked around once more to make sure he was
alone in the back yard. Without out further hindrance he rushed
inside, closed the door, and locked all of the locks.

****

“This storm really doesn’t want to let up,”
Charlotte said in a very quiet voice. She sat cuddled next to Ben
on the couch facing the front yard. She sipped from a cup filled
with hot cocoa, possible thanks to Ruth’s refusal to move to an
electric stove.

Ben sat with his legs stretched out on the
coffee table. Charlotte’s were drawn up underneath her. On the far
side of the table sat a small glass container with a
vanilla-scented candle inside.

“You said it,” Ben said. “I’ll tell you
what, one crisis at a time is enough for me.” The slightest hint of
a grin appeared on his face. She turned to meet his eyes.

“Yeah, definitely.” She returned the smile.
Following that was a roll of thunder. She looked into Ben’s eyes,
and he into hers.

“You’ve been great through this,” Ben said.
“Even though I’m still not entirely sure about us, I’m getting
there. You’ve just been really patient. I want to tha—”

Before Ben could finish, Charlotte kissed
him. They pulled back for a second, and when they joined a second
time, he kissed her back. The third kiss lasted a lot longer, and
pretty soon, while the other survivors were fast asleep, Ben and
Charlotte were bathed in candlelight, kissing deeply to the sounds
of rain and thunder.

38

After the Church

With several of the survivors now armed,
making their way up 12
^th
street wasn’t much of a
problem, especially since most of the zombies in the area were
attracted to the large fire.

“There’s a car dealership around the
corner,” Ralph said.