Winter's Salvation (9 page)

He started rocking again, “She passed away a few years ago.” He looked up to the ceiling as if he were thinking.  “Three maybe four years.  About two and a half years now I would say.  Good thing probably, she wouldn’t be able to handle this.  She passed in her sleep, in the hospital.  She caught some type of bronchial virus and it spread to other parts of her body and just got worse.  Something like that.  There was some fancy name for what it was, but I just chose to forget those details.  I focus on the good times we had and the later days just seemed to happen.  I haven’t thought about it in a long time, really.  As soon as she passed I focused on all the good things and all the news I’m going to have to tell her when I see her again.”  He smiled a little with the left side of his mouth.   

“Sorry to hear that.  I’m sure if she were here she would feel safe with you on watch.” Naomi said. 

“No.  She wouldn’t.”  He paused, “She worried about everything that she could do nothing about, but when it was time for here to worry she didn’t.  It’s fine though, I will be going up there probably sooner than later now and if it happens I’m ready to go.  I would prefer not to go out as one of them, but my soul will go to heaven and then I will be with her again.”

Feeling a little awkward of the path the conversation had taken, Sam decided to change the subject.  “You could come with us if you would like to.”

“Ah maybe, I guess it depends on what happens here.  If it gets overrun here, I don’t want to be eaten alive, so I may take you up on the offer.”  He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and puts them on the table.  “I’ll leave these here just in case you need to leave quickly and I for whatever reason can’t make it.  These are for the truck in the garage” 

“Why wouldn’t you be able to make it?”  Naomi asked, as if nothing outside the house was happening.

“I’m an old man and the ticker just might stop working.  You never know.” He raised his eyebrows and shrugged his
shoulders and then a long pause.  Looking down at his feet while he rocked in the recliner, “Do you think you would go to hell if you took yourself out?  I mean if I were to be bit, and to avoid becoming one of them, I killed myself.  Would my soul go to hell?”

“Well you may actually be saving a life if you did that, so maybe God would think that was admirable.”  Naomi replied. 

“I think your right.”  He stood up from the recliner and groaned.  “You two take the guest bedroom.  The bed is made and it is pretty cozy in there.  I’ll be sleeping in the room directly across from you, but check on the house periodically.  I haven’t been able to sleep a full thirty minutes without having to use the bathroom anyway.”  He gave a fake laugh.   

Naomi smiled as he walked out of the living room.  She cradled Sam while she laid in her lap.  “Lets try to get some sleep.”  Sam rolled over and sat on the couch rubbing the dried crusted tears from her eyes. 

They both walked into the spare bedroom and got into the queen bed and listened as the wind carried the groans of the undead through the breeze.  Sam quickly fell asleep as she lay pouting, but Naomi stirred as a dull pain traveled up her back to her neck.  

The moon was shining directly through the space between each individual plastic slat of the blinds on her window.  Striped shadows shown across the small guest bedroom and the compulsion of not closing her eyes for fear that she will see a shadow within those stripes, played on her mind.  When she would close them, she could feel someone standing on the other side of the window.  She got up from the bed multiple times that night just to spread two pieces of the blinds, ever so slowly and slightly expecting to see something in the yard, but only saw a beautiful scene of the woods and swaying leaves in the trees. 

Chapter 6

Just picking up a few things

They stayed in the town house for four more days after the realization of what was going on.  Eric didn’t believed what Dave had told him until he witnessed the woman that was mauled to death start to move.  She didn’t have much to move, but she did.  Both of her legs were missing, she lost one of her arms and the other was, so badly mauled all she could do was roll over to her empty stomach and push herself in small circles.  For three days Eric watched, as she stayed in the same spot in the alley spinning in awkward circles trailing her exposed intestines, screaming.  The first day it was a blood curtailing scream, as if she were still being eaten alive.  The zombie would turn down the alley way and start screaming, then it just suddenly stopped.  They would all look out the window to see what happened and realized she was turning to face the other end of the alley and as soon as she turned completely around the screaming commenced again. 

There were many times throughout the first and second days were they all just wanted to smash her head in, but did not want to take the risk of being seen.  Sometime late the second day the screaming started to die down and turned into mumbles and low groaning.  She stopped spinning as much, and her movements seemed like they were becoming difficult to perform. 

Every once in a while a fellow zombie would walk by and glance at it’s friend on the ground; just a glance and nothing more.  They were no longer running wildly through the streets, but now moved slowly and clumsily.  When they looked down at her, sometimes they would lose their balance and go crashing into a fence and fight to stand up, usually with a groan or mumble of some type. 

Around noon of the second day the fires in front had turned into embers of burnt flesh and smoking hot metal from the cars.  There were very few walkers on the streets and they seemed to walk aimlessly past one another not acknowledging each other.  Many of the town houses now had broken doors or windows and with every broken door there was a trail of blood that led into or out of them.  With every broken window, chunks of flesh hung from the sills.  This once happy neighborhood was now dark and full of misery.  There were still a few houses that seemed like they were all right or still intact at least.  The windows may have been broken, but there seemed to be a table or something pressed up against it to keep the undead out.  On occasion the sound of screaming or a gunshot would break the silence and all the undead would shamble in that direction.   

They planned to leave the next day, but breaking into a safe quietly took a lot longer than any of them thought it would and it had started to rain.  None of them were thrilled about starting their journey wet.  It took them the entire day to finally open the door and to their surprise the only thing that laid in it was a lever action 22. rifle and two boxes of bullets which now were open and bullets laid scattered in the safe.  Eric had seen it before, but expected the 12. gauge shot gun and a pistol to be in there as well.  There were no signs that his roommates were here before them and why they
would lock the safe. 

The 22. was one that you would see in one of the classic western movies.  Wood grain stock with a golden lever and a gold receiver embroidered with the classic looking swirl engraved in the receiver.  Eric never really held the gun and was disappointed in how light it really was.  Dave had to show him how to load it and how to aim the rifle, but they did not fire it.  Eric grew up in the city and had never had an opportunity to actually fire a rifle let alone ever actually having to do so. 

They lost electricity in the late afternoon on the third day.  The news had notified them ahead of time and said the power plant was abandoned.  The plant was now running on emergency generators and if you were not being supplied by another electric source, you would soon lose all power.  They warned the listening audience of the supplies they should try to gather; candles, batteries, canned food, and how to conserve water.  The news agency must have known that the electricity was about to die because right before the lights dimmed and power shut off, they told them to hang a white sheet from your window, so the military and police forces could spot you, pick you up and take you to one of their secure bases. 

As soon as the neighbor directly across the street opened his upstairs window he caught the attention of one zombie that lay against a burnt car.  This zombie had lain in the same position ever since the fire out front had died down and everyone thought somehow he was dead again, but when the upstairs window opened, it turned to face the white sheet.  It let out a groan as it straightened its body.  This zombie looked in decent shape compared to some of the ones that had passed.  There were no marks on it that showed he had been attacked, but then again David had mentioned all it takes is a small bite or scratch to infect you.  It staggered up the stairs to the front door and started pounding on it.  The zombies groans got louder and then from down the street a moan answered its call.  Then from the opposite end two zombies were making their way through the parked cars groaning as well.  They started to show up from literally nowhere, but everywhere at the same time.

Eric remembered the old man that lived there.  He wasn’t a nice old man; he was the type of man that just wanted to be left alone.  Eric would wave or say hello to him when he passed by his yard on his jogs knowing he was going to ignore him.  After a while it became a game for Eric and he waved and said hello just to annoy the old man.  Every night the old man would don his baggy gardening gloves and khaki slacks, water his garden and pick and prune his perfect flower bed.  Bright red, yellow and white roses poured from his yard.  Not a single rose was out of place or misshapen. 

Now the slurred and broken hollering of the old man was louder than the zombie’s groaning.  His beautiful flowers were nothing more than a mild nuisance to the ghouls as they marched over them to his front door.  He lived alone and to Eric and the rest of his neighbors the only care this old man had was his
precious flower bed.  Obviously it meant more to him than his own personal safety because as the zombies pounded on the door, shaking his house, he looked out the front window screaming with boiling frustration as he watched the crowd grow on his front lawn and destroy his beautiful flowers.     

Eric watched as he knew this man would soon be consumed by the growing hoard.  All four of them watched from Eric’s upstairs bedroom window with despair.  Rod touched Drew’s shoulder as he stood up from the bed and
nodded his head, “Lets go elsewhere.” 

Rod and Drew left the room and Eric moved
closer to the window.  He got on his knees and moved as close to the window as possible.  A wave of helplessness ran over him.  He could not let this miserable old man die, or be consumed alive.  This man probably lived through wars, fights, born during the depression and countless atrocities, and now he is going to be eaten alive by his neighbors. 

Dave watched Eric knowing where his mind was wandering and waited for him to implode.  Dave felt his friend’s anger and desperation growing and sat back on the bed and waited.  Eric turned to Dave, sheer fury showed on his face and he got up to fetch the 22.
that lay on the dresser.  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dave said quietly, but firmly. 

“Yeah it is.” Eric
grabbed the gun.

Dave leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.  “You know if you open that window, they will hear it.” He ran his hand over his face wiping away the sweet beads from his brow.
The rain was not knocking down the humidity and the temperature in the house was rising.  “If you fire on them, they will, swarm this house.”

“We’ll leave through the back.” Eric said as he got
back on his knees by the window.

“You’re willing to risk the lives of three for the life of one?”
Dave asked.  He leaned deeper over his knees facing Eric, closer to his level.  “You don’t have enough bullets to kill them all and you know they will eventually get inside.  If you shoot now they will turn on this house and come through our already weak front door.” He paused for a second to let that information sink in. “We don’t have supplies ready for the road.”

“We’re ready.
” Eric said. “We’ve been ready for an entire day. The only reason we haven’t left yet is because of the fucking rain.”  He turned away from Dave and unlocked the top latches of the window. 

“So what’s our plan?  Get out and start running north?  We haven’t even talked about this yet.  No cars, the streets are packed.  We can’t walk up the highway, they’re covered with zombies.” 

Before the power went out, the news showed pictures and video of the highways and the more traveled roads, as a deterrent to keep the listening audience inside.  The streets were full of undead and the highways were worse.  Thousands of zombies would gather around cars that had people inside fighting for their lives.  Helpless and hopeless they waited for the windows to break under the pressure of the undead.  It showed women and children being pulled from their vehicles and it showed the windows shattering and every zombie on the outside trying to shove their rotting bodies inside the vehicle. 

“We go to Carl’s place.” Eric said.

“Why don’t we shoot for the Beach View shopping center?  We hit the stores and get what we’re going to need; food, clothes and batteries.”

“A couple back packs too.”

Dave stood up and put his hand out for the rifle.  “I need to check the sights anyway.”

Eric was reluctant to hand over the gun thinking David was not going to fire on the ghouls.

“We don’t even know if this thing fires or not.  I’ll give it back to you when I adjust the sights and know that it’s accurate.”  He grabbed the barrel of the rifle.   “You should tell Rod and Drew to get ready.”