Winter's Salvation (5 page)

It was then when he remembered
the red gas can in the shed for his lawn mower.  He looked out the back window and saw the people were still devouring the woman down the street.  Running to the shed, he opened the large door as fast as he could disregarding the noise he made.  He found comfort within the confines of his six foot tall wooden privacy fence (knowing they could not see him).  Grabbing the half empty gas can he ran back to the house locking the door behind him.

             
Entering the bathroom Eric was hit by thick black smoke that smelled of burning flesh and rubber.  The bathroom was small and with three people jammed into it made it almost impossible to maneuver.  Drew and Dave were both looking out the window and when Drew looked behind him he stepped back and let him in.  Eric, out of breath, looked out the window and saw the crazed people moving forward in the flame.  They would step in moving toward the house, but then most of them would start to veer off in wrong directions.  He thought while they were in the fire their eyes had burned out and they could not see where they were going. 

             
Dave grabbed the gas can from him and gave it a little shake.  By the look on his face he was not impressed by its contents, but he was not going to give it back. 

             
“That’s all I have left.”  Eric said with a shrug. 

             
Dave pushed it out as far as he could.  They watched it land just passed the ten foot section of fire and when it struck the ground, flame bounced through the air and spread out to the street.  Cars caught on fire, and the people that were just arriving, who were about to run into the fire were suddenly engulfed in flame.  The heat from the sudden burst of fire forced them back inside the barrier of the window.   

             
Eric did glimpse at what the fire was doing to the front of his house and the only part that was on fire was the trimming around the front door.  The house was older and completely made of brick and he took a temporary feeling of comfort that they would not burn tonight, but he hooked the fish tank hose adapter to the bathrooms faucet, turned the water on and hung it out the window to put out the fire on the door. 

             
They closed the window as much as possible without stopping the water from flowing and watched the fire from behind the window.  The fire looked like it rolled in waves as the undead carried the fire closer to the house, but bounced back as it hit the mounds of charred bodies that protected the home.

**********

              The four of them barricaded the back door with a two by four from the shed.  They pressed it against the set of cabinets directly across from the door and jammed the wood under the door knob.  The windows were set higher and unless they started to climb on top of each other they didn’t have to worry about the crazed people getting in through them. 

             
Eric has two other roommates that are in the Coast Guard and neither of them was answering their phones.  He tried to contact their units and he got a busy signal.  The town house he rented was small, but really no different from any of the other houses on the block.  Each house was built exactly the same and his house was in much need of a rehab.  Paint fell from the ceilings, he thought more than likely lead paint, and there was not a single piece of wood that did not creak as you walked over them, but right now there was no other place any of them would dare to venture.  The blaze had died down and moved away from the landing, windows and front door.  The piles of charred bodies created a wall of fire that protected the front of the house.  The crazed people continued to feed the wall making it larger and impenetrable.  The back of the house was protected by a privacy fence.  It was poorly made and a child would be able to push it over, but what it did provide was what it was originally intended for, privacy. 

             
The smell in the house was starting to die down and the adrenaline they were all feeling was slowly dissipating, but the monsters outside never let them forget they were still out there.  Their groaning was unrelenting and constant.  The four of them were all sitting in the largest bedroom that faced the alley, because the front room still had the strong smell of burnt flesh in it and was very warm from the fires even with the AC set on its coldest setting. 

A few hours later the sun was beginning to rise and shown a light on the devastation out front.  Dave, Rod and Drew sat on a large bed with messed up black covers and watched the small flat screen TV waiting to hear any news of what was going on in the world.  There was a news anchorwoman that tried to cover her fear and sleep deprivation with makeup and fake looks of professionalism.  It would be hard to believe she left the news studio at all last night because all they continued to say was the streets were filled with crashed vehicles and sick people wandering them in search of any one stranded or lost. 

              Eric sat by himself and rocked back and forth in the rocking recliner, watching his phone waiting and hoping a message would pop up stating service was restored.   

             
David broke the gloom with direct orders, “Ok look this is what we need to do.”  He jumped from the bed, as if he had rehearsed what he was going to say.  “Rod and Drew, I need,” He quickly started over, “we need you to plug the bathtub and fill it with water.” With a clap of his hand he pointed to Drew. “Drew we need you to start grabbing some pots and fill them up.” 

             
Reluctantly they got up, but with nothing better to do, Rod waved to his son.  Dave knelt in front of Eric, “What’s up?”  He put his hand over the phone covering the screen.    

             
“I killed a man today.”  Eric said quietly, as if it was a secret, “And I think one of the men we burned was my neighbor.”

             
Dave patted his chin up making him look at him in the eye.  Eric did so, but was not happy with the way he got his point across and made it clear by lowering his eyebrows.  “You did no such thing.  These people are not your neighbors.  They’re not your friends.  These people outside are no longer living.”

             
Eric’s angry eyebrows turned into the look you give to a crazy person on the street that is walking and talking to their brown bag of groceries. 

             
Dave continued.  “The guy you killed,” two hands made a quotation mark above his head. “the one that was attacking Drew and Rod.  Maybe you didn’t notice, but his face was smashed in, and if you were having second thought about it’s head.  Oh I don’t know maybe he was pissed off because he had a
really
bad headache, but maybe you missed the, kind of unmissable lack of anything in his chest or stomach area.” He rubbed his chest and stomach, “yeah he was no longer alive when you smashed his face in for good.  As for your neighbor, I have never met this male or female?”

             
“Male,”

             
“But do they normally just walk into huge blazing walls of fire?” He did not give him the second to respond. “No.  I’m pretty sure they don’t, so these individuals were ultimately on the same level as the guy on the stairs.”  Dave shrugged his shoulders, “These people are for a lack of better word, or maybe it is the perfect word.  Zombies.  You saw me, I put so many bullets in that one and for some reason I started thinking of the movies and I shot the fuck in the head and he went down.  I thought of those zombie movies and shot it in the head.  It worked.  He finally went down.  Dude don’t feel bad about it, there is nothing you could do.”

             
“I’m going north to my family.” 

             
Dave saw a little light in his eyes.  “Cool, lets get into those safes.” 

             
Rod walked into the room, with the expression on his face of a person who didn’t want to ask for help, but desperately needed some.  “Drew and I want to go to North Carolina to see Julie’s family.” 

             
Dave turned to him.  “Isn’t that convenient,” followed by a small smile.  

Chapter 4

Naomi

              “When do you get off tonight?” The old man asked through the speaker and dropped his deposit slip into the shoot.

             
Naomi was going through the motions of this weekly occurrence with Mr. Jenkins, “Mr. J we have already been through this and your wife would not approve of us setting off into the sunset.” 

             
“No, she’s ok with it.  We have a very open relationship.”  Said the bald mid-seventies retired police officer.

             
Receiving the deposit she did not look at him while she counted his money, “Yes I am very much aware of your open relationship and she told me, I’m too good for you.” she smiled as she put his balance inquiry back into the shuttle and sent it back to his rusted green pickup truck. 

             
He took the slip, “What if we just set off down the street?”

             
Speaking a little louder, “Get out of here, you dirty old man.” She said while she could not contain her laughing. 

             
“Have a good night, Sweetie.”

             
“You too Mr. J,” Naomi worked for South Carolinas Trusted Funds Bank.  She was the best employee the bank had.  She has the best relations with her employees and never showed up late.  The only time she took an unscheduled day off was when she was T boned coming in for work and had to be rushed into the emergency room.  She knew just who she could play with and with whom she better watch her manners.  Mr. Jenkins comes in every Thursday at the same time, never missing a week and always down to the minute.  And as every Thursday goes Mr. Jenkins always starts his transactions with some type of comment, which is always meant to be a complement.  Most of the time they are something like, “Every day you are more beautiful than the last.  I wake up every day waiting till next Thursday just to come down here and look at you.  God must have slept at a Super 8 Motel the night before he made you,” and the list continues only getting cornier and cornier.  But this is not uncommon for Naomi.

             
Naomi comes from mixed race parents her mother being a strong willed black woman and father being a white businessman, which left her with a very light brown complexion.  Her hair was long, down past her shoulders, ending at the middle of her back in hundreds of small braids that fascinated most people as she walked past them.  Her hair was a shiny black and as it moved, shimmered a glimpse of dark blue.  When they followed her hair, to her clean smooth face they were immediately entranced by her deep emerald green eyes.  She is very tall for a woman, standing a little more than six foot and her body was perfectly proportioned to her figure.  Naomi wore tight clothing that showed just enough cleavage and body to get attention, but not enough to get her in trouble.  Today she wore a tight blue dress that hung low across her chest, with a floral scarf that covered her, but still showed enough that the men wished she was working the window when they pulled up.  

             
   The teller window looked out into a large parking lot that served multiple different stores of the strip mall.  As Mr. Jenkins pulled away the site of an ambulance and multiple police vehicles with their blue and red lights caught her attention.  In the middle of the parking lot, but on the further end, away from the stores, was a circle of cops surrounding a man. 

The officers looked as if they were trying to calm this man down, but he kept screaming something.  Naomi recognized the young man as being one of the kids that worked at the food mart attached to the strip mall.  He wore the white garrison hat with the yellow food stores logo on the front of his white apron and the khaki slacks that everyone who worked there wore.  He was screaming wildly running in small circles and every once in a while he would charge after one of the police officers and stop
inches from him.  Just far enough, so the officers would not strike him.   

Naomi could see that the cops weren’t sure what exactly to do and one started shaking a can of pepper spray.  By this time a crowd of her coworkers started to huddle up behind her and start asking questions as if she had seen the entire incident. 

“What’s going on out there?” some of her colleagues, asked truly concerned for the boy.  One of the women coworkers told them in a strong southern accent and a sign of warning to the cops and the kid, “They better not hit my car.  I don’t care what theys do just as long as they do it away from my car.”  She declared. 

He scratched at his face, as if he was in pain, but Naomi saw that none of the cops had sprayed him.  The boy let out a low growl that turned into an intense scream.  He bent over with his head up and fist clenched to his sides as he shook his head screaming at each of the cops.  He started running in small circles with his loose apron flailing behind him.  The circles started to get bigger until he lunged at one of the female cops from across the circle.  She was prepared for the tackle and sprawled back as the kid fell under her.  There was a fight and all the police closed in on the two in a tight group.  The group was shoulder to shoulder and the female that sprawled on the boy originally pushed her way out holding her right forearm.  Everyone from the bank window could see blood dripping from her finger tips that protruded from the sleeve of her uniform.