“Chevy stop. Let him
talk,” I pleaded
“Believe me, I didn’t
want to, and I’m not a psycho. I didn’t have a choice.
It was eight days ago.
Mom had already stopped going to work because everyone was getting
sick. Herman, Mom and I were all sound asleep one night when we heard
glass breaking. I ran downstairs to the kitchen, where I found my mom
talking with the little girl next door. She was asking her what had
happened and if she was okay. I remember at some point during the
conversation, my mom asked what was wrong with her eyes. That’s
when the little girl bit her right on the face next to her lips. Then
she ran out the same broken glass door she came in through. My mom
was pissed that she broke the door and bit her. So, she chased the
girl into the yard. Mom came back mad and full of mud. She picked up
the phone to call the girl's parents. When they didn’t pick up the
phone, she was in an even fouler mood. She washed out the bite in the
kitchen sink and asked me to look at it. I didn’t think it looked
that bad. It barely broke the skin.
Mom wouldn’t let it
go, she kept stewing over it and said she was going talk to the
girl’s parents in the morning, when the sun came up. I asked if she
was going back to bed for a while and she said she was too upset. We
talked while she made herself a cup of coffee. I was too hopped up to
fall back asleep, so we sat up for the next few hours talking about
Herman and the pandemic the news was reporting.
After a little while,
Mom said she didn’t feel well, and decided to go to bed after all.
I still wasn't tired and stayed up watching a scary movie. Well, I
guess I was tired and must have fallen asleep in the chair because I
woke up again. This time to the sound of breaking glass. I ran back
down to the kitchen and, that’s when I saw her. My mom had changed.
When she saw me, she attacked. Black ooze and puss leaked from the
bite mark on her face. The wound looked bad compared to the way it
had an hour earlier. I couldn’t believe it was the same bite. She
groaned and bit at my face. I tried to hold her off, but she was too
strong. She had me on the kitchen floor and kept biting at me. When I
fell to the ground, I knocked a cupboard door open with my head. I
reached inside and pulled out the first thing I felt, a soup pot. I
hit her on the side of the head, and nothing happened. She kept
biting at me. The only thing I could do was hit her a second time,
this time, harder. I walloped her hard enough to feel the vibration
run through the pot handle, down my fingers, and over my wrist. It
was enough to knock her out. I worked my way up onto my knees and
tried to help her. She opened her eyes and started biting at me
again. She was so strong I couldn't control her. I had to get away
and jumped to my feet. She was fast, not like those slow moving
zombies. She was right on my heels. She grabbed me before I got out
of the kitchen and pinned me against the counter. I reached for
something to hit her again. My hand searched the dish rack and
emerged with a butter knife. Without even thinking, I swung my arm
and buried the knife into her temple. Mom collapsed to the floor. I
was in shock. What had I done? I didn’t mean to kill her. It just
happened.
All the commotion woke
Herman up, and I heard him walking down the stairs. I was afraid he
was heading for the kitchen. The last thing I wanted was for him to
see mom dead. I thought it’d be a lot easier for him to understand
if I told him that she had left for work early and then never came
home, rather than explain I killed her. I dragged her lifeless body
down the stairs into the basement as fast as I could. I stood her
body up in the utility closet down there and locked her body inside.
When I came upstairs, Herman knew something was wrong. He was hiding
behind that damn Batman mask, looking for mom. It’s his way of
hiding from reality. He asked me where she was, and I lied to him. I
couldn’t bear to tell him the truth. I said, she had left for work
and would be home late. I’ve been living a lie ever since. Later
that night, when she didn’t come home, I told him we’d start
searching the neighborhood for her. We spent the next week walking
around Port Kent looking in cars, houses and killing zombies. We must
have killed over a hundred. The whole time, I was secretly searching
for that little girl, I admit it. I did want to kill her, and I
wanted to hurt her. I wanted to make it horrible because she
destroyed our family. She killed my mother. The only person Herman
and I had left in this fucked up world. So if I came across as being
a little psycho, it’s because maybe I was.
I had a lot of hate
built up inside; I had to kill my mother because of that girl. I’m
sorry I had to do that in front of you two, I needed closure. Even if
you can’t understand it, please try to forgive me.”
After hearing Thurman’s
story, I can tell you without a doubt, I felt like a complete
asshole. It was clear by the look on Chevy’s face, he felt the same
way as me.
Thurman had tears
flowing from both eyes now. I gave him a firm pat on the shoulder and
said, “I’m sorry we judged you without knowing the whole story.
Don’t worry. We’re not going to ditch you or Herman. Consider
yourselves a permanent part of our group.”
I stepped aside and
gave Chevy the opportunity to apologize. At first, he stood there,
staring at Thurman, not saying a thing. So it shocked me when he
leaned in and wrapped both of his arms around Thurman.
“I’m sorry,
Thurman. I guess I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge you.”
“Thank you, Chevy. I
appreciate it," Thurman said wiping tears away.
“There’s one more
thing, Thurman. I’m sorry about calling Herman crazy. I didn’t
mean it; I was just trying to upset you. I don’t think that at all.
As a matter of fact, I love the big guy. He makes me laugh. So if
we’re going to get to these cars, you better lead the way through
the tunnel. And if we run into any shit in there, I’ve got your
back.”
It was a nice gesture,
Chevy telling Luther we’d have his back, but us trusting Thurman
didn’t prevent a shit load of zombies from hiding out in there. I
guess as a show of good faith, I didn’t have a choice. I was about
to go for a stroll through this dark, damp, and hopefully, not zombie
infested cave.
I flipped on the M4’s
Tac light and raised the rifle to my shoulder, “Right behind you,
Thurman.”
We stepped over the
saplings and inside the tunnel. The temperature dropped twenty
degrees after the first few feet. There was no smell of rotting meat
in here, but rather a combination of popcorn and grease. An almost
pleasant smell that brought me back to my childhood. I reminisced in
the thoughts of summer trips to the park, and days filled with roller
coasters and fair games. The walk took longer than I expected. It was
almost twenty minutes later when a pinhole of light announced the
exit in the distance. As we got closer, the air warmed and the glossy
stone-colored paint shimmered in the afternoon sun. We emerged
squinting, waiting for our eyes to adjust to the sun. When they did,
I saw Thurman’s warehouse in the distance. It was enormous.
“That’s the
building with all the cars?” I asked.
Thurman was ahead of me
and turned back to smile, “I told you it was huge, didn’t I?”
“You did, but I never
imagined it was that big.”
When we got to the door
of the building, I was excited like a little schoolboy. All those
dream cars I had imagined owning, but only viewed among glossy pages
of magazines. Peeking through the window at the sports cars, I
witnessed the things dreams are made of. Hard sharp lined bodies with
racecar engines. There were so many cars in there it didn’t seem
real. This collection was like Leno’s on steroids.
“Let me see.” Chevy
said, pushing me out of the way.
“Holy shit. Look at
all the cars in there.”
Thurman stood back,
arms crossed, and tapping his foot, “I told you. Didn’t I?”
“You sure did,
buddy,” I agreed.
Chevy tried the locked
garage door, “If I had my truck right now, I’d throw a chain on
this door and yank it right off the hinges. Since I don’t have my
truck, how the hell are we going to get in?”
“I have a key,”
Thurman said.
“You have a what?”
we both said in perfect harmony.
“You heard me. I told
you, I have a key.”
Chevy stepped away and
presented the garage door with two open hands, like one of those game
show hostesses, “The door is yours, my friend.”
Thurman stepped
forward, “Thank you, kind sir,” and smashed the glass with the
butt of his rifle. He reached in through the window and pushed the
automatic door opener, “Apres Vous, Messieurs.”
“Nice key,” I said
as I walked through the open door, with Chevy at my side.
Thurman followed us
into the warehouse.
“I want to take the
Lamborghini for a spin,” Chevy begged.
“We’re here to get
the Hummer.” I said.
“Oh, come on, Dad.”
Chevy prattled.
I wanted to drive the
Lambo too, but we needed to get the Humvee and meet back up with the
rest of the group. It was a lucky coincidence for Chevy, that the
only car between the garage door and the Hummer happened to be the
Lambo.
“I’ll let you if
you want. We need to move the Lambo, so find the keys. You can drive
it to the supermarket and leave it there. Thurman and I will drive
the Hummer over.”
Chevy disappeared to
the back office in search of keys. I could hear him opening and
closing cupboards.
“Found the Hummer
keys,” he called out.
“How long have you
guys been friends?” Luther asked.
“For as long as I can
remember.”
“Has he always been
like that?”
“You mean a dumbass?”
I said laughing, “For as long as I can remember. Thurman, I am
sorry about the things we said before. Maybe we can all start over.
I’ll talk to the group and explain what happened when we get back.
I’ll make sure we keep your secret, so we don’t upset Herman.”
Thurman paused, “The
whole group thinks I’m a psycho?”
“Let’s just say,
they’re not sure what to think of you. After I tell them what
happened, I think they’ll agree they would have done the same
thing.”
“Thanks, Ty. I
appreciate-"
I was interrupted when
shots rang out from the back office.
“Chevy!” I
screamed.
Thurman and I sprinted
through the parked cars toward my friend. The sound of gunfire
stopped, replaced with Chevy's screams. I ran as fast as I could and
felt like I was moving in slow motion.
“Chevy!” I yelled
out again.
There was no response.
When I got near the office, I saw a zombie lying dead on the floor.
He was half out of the office. When I stepped in, I realized the
office doubled as an efficiency apartment. It was one room with a
single bed, a kitchenette, and a TV. There was a door inside the
office that opened up into a small bathroom. The dead man must have
been the vehicle's and garage's caretaker, and in return for his
meager pay, he got the free amenities.
Chevy was sitting on
the floor in the corner of the room. He looked petrified and pale.
He let out a little
chuckle as he spoke, “The fucker came out of nowhere.”
“Are there anymore?”
I asked.
“Not that I saw. Just
the one I shot.” Chevy whimpered.
I laughed, “You
scared the shit out of me, Chevy. Let’s get the keys and get the
hell out of here.”
I reached out to help
Chevy up when he yelled at me, “Stay back! He got me...”
“He what?” I asked
“You heard me, Ty. He
got me.”
“What do you mean, he
got you?”
“Come on, Ty. You
know what I mean.” He held up his arm. Blood dripped from the
bite-shaped mark.
“Nooooo….” I
cried. I felt my heart drop into my stomach.
“Ty, it’s okay,
man. You know I love you, brother. It's nobody’s fault but my own.
I got so caught up with the thought of driving the car I wasn’t
paying attention. I sure wish I could have driven that Lamborghini.
Get to the girls. Keep them safe and find your dad. I can’t go with
you. Now get out of here and don’t forget to tell Mom I love her.”
“I can’t do that,
Chevy. I’m not going to leave you here. Why did this have to happen
to you? Why? There must be something we can do.”
“You know there’s
not.”
“Bullshit. Watch me.”
I grabbed Chevy under
his arms and yanked him to his feet, “You can walk, can’t you?”
I urged.
“Yeah, the zombie bit
my arm, not my legs.”
“Where are the Hummer
keys?”
“In my pocket, but I
couldn’t find the Lambo keys, and it's in the way,” Chevy
replied.
“I don’t care about
the fucking Lambo. Now move your feet.”
I helped Chevy walk
while Luther carried all the guns. It was a long way back to the
Hummer and dragging Chevy made it even more difficult. When we got to
the black civilian version of the Hummer, I unlocked the back door
and helped Chevy climb in. “You’re putting everyone in danger.
Just leave me.”
“Never!”
I jumped in the
driver’s seat and started the engine. It turned over slowly like it
hadn’t run in a while. I hoped the alternator still worked, or the
vehicle would be useless to us.
I waited for Thurman to
climb in and close his door before moving.
“Put your seatbelt
on, you’re gonna need it,” I said
I knew we were facing
west because the afternoon sun blinded all of us as we looked out the
garage door.
Thurman shielded his
eyes from the sun and pointed out the windshield, “What about
that?” he asked.
“What about what?”
I growled as I slammed the accelerator on the floor. I struck the
Lambo from behind. Its tires squealed as I pushed it out of the way.
It was no match for the powerful engine and torque of the Humvee.