Authors: Sean McMurray
I woke up late the next morning. The
house was eerily quiet. I sat up in bed, slipped on my shoes and headed down
stairs. The fire was burning low and there was breakfast waiting for me on a TV
tray next to my chair. But, there was no sign of Sam. I looked back up the
stairs.
Her door is shut, so she must
have went back to sleep
.
I sat down in my chair and scarfed
down the food she had left me. I chased it with some cold water and then
walked out on the back porch to get some more wood for the fire. That’s when
I saw them. Tracks leading from the porch to the shed. I followed the tracks
to the shed and opening the door, found that the snowmobile was missing.
“
Damn it.” I said in
frustration. “What is she doing? It’s not safe.”
Wait…
Staring into the empty shed, it
occurred to me. Sam made her choice. Now that she knew the truth about me,
she chose to leave and although I was deeply saddened, I didn’t blame her. I
dropped my head. I told myself I wouldn’t chase her. I told myself that I
would let her go.
Suddenly, a drip of cold water
dropped from the gutter of the shed unto my neck sending a chill down my spine.
I turned and stared out over the frozen lake. I could see the green of the
pine trees in the distance and the light of the sun gleaming off the melting
snow. I could feel its warmth and hear the drips of water falling from the
trees as if it was raining in the woods. Then all at once it hit me. The world
was thawing out, which meant they were thawing out! Sam had no idea what kind
of danger she was in.
I rushed inside the house and
quickly got dressed. I grabbed my canteen from the kitchen and filled it with
water then went to the war room and grabbed my shotgun, extra shells and my
handgun. I rushed back outside. I grabbed a can of fuel and then hurried to
the back side of the shed. Beneath a worn, blue tarp was another snowmobile. My
dad had inherited it when he bought the place and I had used it until I came
across the one that Sam took. It had been a while since I fired it up so I was
unsure if I could even get it started. It was so old it didn’t have an
electric start. I filled it with gas and then gave the pull start a mighty
tug. The engine sputtered for a second, then stopped. I did it again, with
the same result.
“Come on.”
I pulled it hard and the engine
sputtered for a short two seconds. I adjusted the choke and did it again and
again until finally, the engine fired up. Excited, but also a little winded
from all the pulling, I hopped onto the seat and drove off.
I cursed myself for sleeping in and
questioned my hearing. I’d let my guard down since Sam arrived and now I was
paying for it. I followed the tracks of the snowmobile. She was heading to
Burbank. I pushed the engine as hard as it would go, fully knowing that unless
she stopped, I would not catch up. My only hope was that I’d reach her before
they did and I dared to hope. I followed the tracks all the way to the
outskirts of Burbank and cruised in on fumes. I stopped the snowmobile at the
top of the hill that led down into the small city. I climbed off, readied my
shotgun and made the precarious trek down the hill. Once I reached the bottom,
I followed the tracks through the abandoned town. Every sound met my ears with
vengeance. The crack and bust of ice thawing, the crash of large chunks of
snow sliding off roof tops, it came from all directions and with every sound I
waited for the wail and moan of the horde followed by the stampeding feet. Suppressing
the fear that invaded every ounce of my being, I kept my focus on the tracks,
following them down back alleys and side streets. I came to a familiar
building. The boot prints in the snow indicated that she had got off the
snowmobile and went inside.
“What was she doing in Miller’s
Pharmacy?”
Since there were tracks leading
away from the pharmacy I didn’t need to look for her inside. Which was a good
thing because I never wanted to step foot in that place again.
I continued down the road until I
got to the main drag that followed the river. It was getting late and there
was still no sign of Sam. Nevertheless, I pressed on. I took it as a good sign
that I saw no footprints in the snow aside from my own. I suddenly smelled
smoke and stopped in my tracks.
“I know where she is.”
I was standing in the middle of an
intersection, two blocks away from the school where I found Sam. I hurried in
the direction of my old high school and the smell strengthened. Relieved, I
saw Sam standing in the snow staring into the burned rubble of the school. I
yelled her name. She didn’t respond and I was overcome with trepidation.
No, please no
…
I raised my shotgun and approached
her apprehensively, not knowing if I would even be able to pull the trigger if
I had to. I stepped closer and called to her again. “Sam!”
Slowly, she turned and I saw that
my fears were in vain and she had not changed into one of them. Relieved, I
lowered my shotgun and ran to her. When I got closer I noticed her eyes were
red with fresh tears.
“Sam, what are you doing? It’s
much too dangerous here.”
She ignored my question and stared
pensively into the smoldering rubble. “You aren’t the only one that’s haunted
you know.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“My mom died in there.”
“I’m sorry Sam.”
“Not as much as I am.” After a few
seconds of quiet she glanced over at me. “There’s something I need to tell
you.”
I was perplexed and expecting the
worse. “Okay.”
“The reason my Mom—”
Before she could finish, a long
wail rang from the distance.
“They’ve discovered us.” I grabbed
Sam tightly by the arm. “Whatever you want to tell me, you’re going to have to
tell me later.”
I didn’t give her a chance to
argue, I pulled her over to the snowmobile and we climbed on. I fired it up
and with the sled we pulled away. We left town in the same direction I had
come. Upon reaching the top of the valley, I stopped and climbed off the snowmobile.
I pushed aside Sam’s duffle bag and grabbed a can of gas from the sled then
hustled over to the one I drove in on.
I filled the tank with all the gas
I had in the can. “We need to put as much distance between us and them as
possible.” I yanked the pull start and my snowmobile sputtered to a start. I
climbed on, “Get to the lake house, even if it means leaving me behind. Do you
understand?”
Sam nodded and we pulled away. I
tried my best to keep up with her, but my snowmobile just couldn’t go as fast
as hers. We followed the river as it winded toward Red Lake. The further we
got from Burbank, the safer I felt, but dusk was approaching and all of
Minnesota would soon be covered in darkness. If we were going to make it to
the lake house, we were going to have to travel at night. To make matters
worse a heavy fog was forming over the melting snow, limiting our visibility.
Overtime Sam pulled away from me until the red of her tail light was all I
could see. I followed it like it was the shine of a light house. Not wanting
to put too much distance between us, Sam slowed down and allowed me to catch up
a bit. She looked back to make sure I was okay and I gave her a thumbs up.
Just as she turned around a shadow moved in the fog.
“Sam!”
I screamed for her, but it was too
late. The creature leapt and knocked her off the snowmobile. The two tumbled
over each other as the snowmobile careened out of control toward the river. I
hit the throttle and the engine wined as I attempted to get to her. Sam yelped
in pain as the two came to a stop with the fiend on top, pinning her down. Sam
tried to break free of its grasp, but it was no use. The undead creature
howled and then opened its mouth wide, preparing to sink its teeth into Sam’s
flesh. Just as it went in for the kill, I leapt from my snowmobile into the
creature, knocking it off Sam. It and I rolled one over the other, until I
slammed hard into the base of a tree, a few yards from the creature. The
creature pushed itself off the ground until it was on its haunches, then screamed
at me with anger. I lay dazed and breathless against the tree trunk as the
creature launched its attack. Its black eyes ablaze with hunger, the fiend scrambled
toward me on all fours. I managed to slip the Berretta out of my thigh holster
and fire a couple shots into its torso. Still, the fiend slammed into me, then
reared back to strike. Holding the creature back with my left arm, I lifted
the handgun to its chin and with its gnashing teeth just inches from my face,
pulled the trigger. The bullet ruptured the top of the creature’s skull,
splattering the tree limbs above me with brain matter as the fiend fell limp
against me.
“Yuck…” I said as I pushed the
creature’s lifeless corpse off me. I caught my breath and climbed to my feet.
Suddenly, Sam screamed from somewhere in the fog. I spun around and
frantically searched every direction. “Sam!” I cried out louder, “Sam!” I
yelled out again and again until I was breathless. The fog besieged me in a
wall of white and Sam, alive or dead, was nowhere to be found.
I stumbled through the wall of fog
until it seemed to lighten up. I called her name again, “Sam!”
“Blake!” I heard from a distance. “Help!”
Her cries were coming from the
river, so I sprinted in that direction. Through the fog I saw Sam’s snowmobile
had crashed through the ice and was quickly sinking into the river. Sam, in
immense pain, was limping toward it.
“My bag!” She yelled. “I need my
bag!”
The snowmobile disappeared into the
icy water and only the sled was above the surface. Sam dove for the sled and
latched on to it, trying desperately to reach her duffle bag before it was
pulled under.
“Let it go!” I yelled as I stumbled
down the bank to the edge of the river.
“I can’t.”
More of the ice gave way and Sam
fell into the water.
“Sam!” I screamed.
“Help me…” She cried as she was
pulled into the freezing river. She splashed against the water and frantically
clawed the ice, but she couldn’t stop herself from being pulled under by the current.
I reached the edge of the river,
searching for some way to reach her. With no other ideas, I pulled off my belt
and wrapped one end around my wrist. Taking hold of a thick root sticking out
of the snow with my left hand, I extended my body and tossed the other end of
the belt to Sam.
“Grab it!” I ordered. Her head
bobbing in and out of the water, she reached unsuccessfully for the belt.
Grimacing in pain, I stretched as far as I could towards her. “Come on, Sam.” I
said through clenched teeth.
She reached for the belt again and
then again. Finally, just before she was pulled under the ice, she was able to
grab hold of it. Straining with all my might, I pulled Sam unto the bank. She
rolled onto her back, clutching her bag against her chest.
In between breaths I asked, “Was it
worth it?”
She didn’t answer. Instead she
tried to climb to her feet, but collapsed when she tried to put weight on her
left foot.
I caught her. “Sam…”
“My ankle,” she said painfully, “I
think it’s broken.” She was in obvious pain and soaked to the bone.
“Come on,” I said, “I’ll carry
you.” I squatted down and she, quite excruciatingly, climbed onto my back. I
carried her up the bank and to my snowmobile, which had come to a stop in some
bushes. I sat her on the snowmobile and with great effort, pulled the vehicle
out of the bushes. I fired it up and climbed on. “Hold on to me.” I said.
Sam wrapped her arms around my
waist and I hit the throttle. Darkness had fallen and the fog was now very
thick. Though the bushes had stopped the snowmobile’s momentum, there was some
damage as the engine sputtered along and the ride rattled beneath us. We moved
cautiously, following the river, unsure if at any moment we were going to be
ambushed from the fog. Sam was soaking wet and very cold. I could feel her
body trembling and hear her teeth chattering over the whine of the engine.
“Sam,” I said over my shoulder,
“are you alright?”
She nodded, trying to be strong,
but her shivering anguish betrayed her.
If we don’t stop to warm
ourselves and get her some dry clothes soon, she’ll…
“We need to get you warm.” I said
finally. “You need some dry clothes.”
She shivered, “W-W-Where…”
An image of a lonely church steeple
appeared on my mind. I sighed in reluctance. “I know a place we can stop.” I
sped up and in a few minutes the silhouette of the abandoned church appeared in
the fog.
“Th-Th-that is your f-f-fathers
church isn’t it?” Asked Sam.
“Christ Church by the River…” I
answered.
“Are you sure you want to s-stop
here?”
I looked back over my shoulder and
said resignedly, “We have no choice.”
I slowed down as we approached the
church. We slid to a stop in front of the main entrance. I hopped off the
snowmobile. I paused and stared into the front glass doors.
“D-Do you think their inside?” Sam
asked.
I turned around and grabbed my
shotgun from the back of the snowmobile. “I’m going to find out.” I reached to
my thigh holster and pulled out the berretta. “Do you know how to use this?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
I showed her the proper stance and
repeated the words my father had told me. “When the target is close, line up
the sights, release the safety and pull the trigger.” I handed her the gun.
“Show me.”
She held the gun out in front of her
and aimed into the fog. “L-Line up the s-s-sights and pull the trigger.”
“Good,” I said as I pointed to the
button just above the trigger, “But, don’t forget the safety.”
She nodded. “B-Be careful.” She
said.
I flipped on the flash light that
was taped to the bottom of the barrel, along with my headlamp and took a deep
breath. “I always am.” I pulled on the door and discovered it was unlocked. Fearing
what I might find inside, I hesitated before entering. I glanced back at Sam
and then stepped into the darkness of the foyer. I followed the hallway to the
main doors. I tried the knobs, they were locked.
“Hmm.” I murmured. “I wonder…”
Remembering where my father kept a
hidden key, I rushed to the small coat room off to the side. I shined the
flash light inside and revealed that it was clear. Like I used to do when I
was a little kid, I grabbed the folding chair from behind the door, set it up
and used to it to reach the top of the shelf that lined the coat room. At the
far back corner, I found the key, right where it was supposed to be. I
grabbed it and jumped off the chair. I rushed back to the door and slipped it
into the lock. I really didn’t want to open that door, but thinking of Sam, I
did.
A cloud of musty air greeted me as
I stepped into the sanctuary. Like I was a tardy churchgoer trying to sneak in
unnoticed for a Sunday morning service, I crept silently down the main isle
between the rows of red pews. I scanned the room and found everything in its
proper place. Honestly, I felt as if I walked right into my past on a late
Saturday night. There was one difference though, my father’s office was empty.
I finished securing the sanctuary
and then went outside to get Sam. “Come on,” I said, “the coast is clear.”
She nodded. “G-G-Good.”
Though she was much healthier then
when I first found her, she was still rather light, so I put the shotgun over
my shoulder and carried her inside. I gently sat her down on the front pew. I
pointed to her injured ankle. “Keep that propped up. I’ll be back in a
minute.”
After I locked the doors, I went
and grabbed a lighter from the podium on the pulpit and lit the candelabra that
were sitting on a nearby table. The candles provided just enough light for us
to see.
“I’m going to get you some
clothes.” I said handing her an old coat. “In the meantime, use this.”
Sam took the coat and slipped it
over her shoulders like it was a poncho. I went to a closet that was located
next to my father’s office and pulled out a tub of old clothes. I picked it up
and carried it to Sam where I dropped the tub in front of her. “Merry
Christmas.”
She looked at me sternly and said
with a straight face, “I’m Jewish.”
“Oh…”
She paused then smiled. “Got ya.”
We laughed and Sam reached into the
tub, “Where’d you get this stuff?”
I put my hand on my chin, “Saks 5
th
Avenue, Macy’s, Hollister, Victoria’s Secret. You know all the best places.”
She held out an orange shirt that
read
Thompson’s Family Reunion 2008.
“Something tells me you didn’t get
this at Victoria’s Secret.”
“Oh that.” I responded. “We got
that at Tiffany’s.”
“Tiffany’s is a jewelry store.”
I threw my hands up in surrender. “Okay,
I confess, we got it at garage sale. But, the previous owner may have been
named Tiffany.”
She laughed.
“Actually, displaced families would
occasionally come here looking for help. So, my father kept this tub of clothes
just in case they needed it.” I paused. “You hungry? Because he always had
food on hand as well.”
I went back to the closet and
opened the cupboards. They were bare except for a solitary can of SPAM. I
swiped the lonesome can and went back to Sam. “Umm, do you want some SPAM…
Sam
?”
“Yes, I do Dr. Seuss.”
I chuckled.
She slipped off the old coat. “Just
let me get dressed first.”
“Oh, okay.” I turned around.
“No peeking, Blake.”
I won’t lie. Despite the fact that
we were in a church, I wanted to look. But I didn’t. I kept myself busy by
cutting open the can of SPAM with my pocket knife.
After a few minutes Sam asked,
“What do you think?”
I turned around and looked her
over. “Thompson’s Family Reunion here we come.” She was wearing the orange
shirt and a pair of baggy grey sweats which she had tied tightly around her
waist with the draw string. “Do you feel better?” I asked.
“I do,” She answered, “and I kind
of want to be a rapper now.”
I smiled. “What do you say you begin
your music career after we eat?”
Sam nodded. “Good idea.”
I sat down beside her with the open
can of SPAM. “Open your hands.” She did as directed. I sliced the piece of
spam in two and dropped her half into her palms. “Enjoy.”
We sat quietly in the sanctuary
and ate our humble meal. After we were finished, I turned to Sam. “Sam, did
you leave this morning because of what I told you last night?” I asked
anxiously. “You know, about what happened to my sister.”
She turned to me. “No, why would I
leave because of that?”
I dropped my head and shrugged. “Because…”
She took me by the hand. “Blake, I
wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you. You’ve saved my life twice.” She
lifted my chin with a soft touch and peered into my eyes. “I’ve known you for
only a short time and I know the kind of man you are. Brave, caring, kind.”
“Then why’d you leave?”
“There’s something I need to tell
you, something I’ve kept secret.” She let go of my hands and dropped her head. “I’m
like Abbey. I’m diabetic.”
In a flash, it hit me. All the
symptoms were there, I was just too blinded by guilt to put it all together.
She continued, “I was planning on
telling you, but when you told me what happened to Abbey, I decided against it
and that brings us to the reason why I left.”
“Well…”
“I left to go find some insulin.”
Sam answered. “I used the last of mine two days ago.”
“You should’ve told me,” I said
defiantly, “I would’ve got it for you.”
“I know you would have,” she fired back,
“and that’s the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
She looked back up with watery
eyes. “I don’t want someone else dying because of me.”
“I would have known the risks.” I
responded. “I’m a man, I make my own choices.”
Sam shook her head. “You don’t get
it. I’m the reason those things found us. I’m the reason my mom is dead.”
She paused and wiped her tears away with the sleeve of the old coat. “I ran out
of insulin, so my mom went to find more. She eventually found some, but those
things followed her back to the school.”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I
kept quiet while she sobbed. Eventually I spoke up.
“I’m sorry Sam.” I put my hand on
Sam’s shoulder. “Your Mom sounds like she was a great woman.”
Sam nodded and said tearfully, “She
was.”
“At least she loved you enough to
risk her life for you.”
Sam wiped the tears from her eyes. “I’m
sure your dad loved you Blake.”
I shook my head, “I thought so, but
I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if I screwed up his life.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.”
I leaned up. “My dad had a full
ride to play football in Ohio. But, when my mom got pregnant with me, he gave
it all up and joined the Marines. Even before all of this, I wondered if he
ever thought how different his life would’ve been if I’d never been born.
Maybe he would have played professional football. Maybe my mom and him would
still be together.” I lowered my voice. “Guess it doesn’t matter now, does it?”
She didn’t answer because the
answer was obvious.
I slumped back against the pew. “You
know, when I was younger I would sit in this pew right here and play with my
toys while he worked on his sermons. Occasionally, he would play a game with
me. He would shout the location of a Bible verse from his office. He’d say
“John 3:16” and I would race to that Bible, sitting on that table over there,
and look it up. I’d read it aloud and then he’d ask me what I thought it
meant. I’d tell him what I thought and he’d usually say something like, “hmm,
interesting” and that would be it.” I stopped and sighed. “My dad, John
Winters, local hero. I was proud to be his son, but was he proud to be my
dad?”
After a pause Sam shouted, “Isaiah
53:8.”
I was perplexed. “What about it?”
“We’re playing the game you and
your dad used to play.”
“I’m not really interested.”
Sam sighed. “I guess that means
I’ll have to look it up.” She painfully stood to her feet and tried to walk.
It was all she could do to keep from crying out in pain.
“Sam,” I said finally, “Sit down.
I’ll look it up.”
Sam smiled with satisfaction, then
gently sat back down. I stood to my feet and walked over to the front of the
pulpit, where the Bible sat on a table. Sam shouted from behind me, “Isaiah
53:8.”
“I know.” I answered with
annoyance.
That Bible hadn’t been touched in
years. I wiped the layer of dust off the cover with my hand and slowly opened
it. I read the dedication page.
To: The people of Earth. From: God.
My father had written those words years ago and when I was a kid, I thought it
was the most clever thing ever.