100 Days of Death (18 page)

When I peeked through the front curtain, I saw what looked like dozens of undead. More would keep coming if we didn’t shut them up soon. Albert was doing much better so we searched the house for any means of escape. We found the attic access in the front hallway.

I got on a chair and pushed the access door up, setting it aside on the attic floor. I pulled myself up into the dark crawlspace and twisted my Surefire light on in a panic. Logically, I knew there was probably no chance of any infected up there, but the sounds of them so close outside had me nervous.

The peak was only five feet above me. I needed to get on top of the house and it seemed the only way would be to tear through the roof itself. I jammed my pry tool between the support beam and a roof slat and levered as hard as I could. I lifted nails and splintered the slat but there were too many layers of plywood and tarpaper. When I removed the pry bar the slat dropped back into place.

I looked behind me and saw a vent fan at the back wall of the attic. I waddled back, careful to keep my feet on the 2x4 supports. The vent fan was three feet by three feet. I could see daylight between the fan blades. I stood hunched over for a moment trying to figure out the best way to remove the housing.

I shrugged, stepped back, and kicked the center of the unit as hard as I could. What the hell, it wasn’t like they didn’t already know we were there. The brackets holding everything together buckled and popped. On the third kick, the whole unit gave and fell out of the wall. Bright daylight flooded the attic and the vent unit crashed to the ground below.

I leaned out and looked down. The unit had landed on one unlucky creature and crushed his neck and spine. He was trapped under the wreckage thrashing his arms about. I brought my carbine on line and shot him as well as two other infected who were looking up at me.

I pushed my slung carbine around behind me, then turned and reached up to the edge of the roof. I lifted myself and swung my leg up, catching the top edge of the eaves. Just as I thought I’d made it, my weapon snagged on the lip of the overhang, threatening to pull me down. I unhooked it and rolled away from the ledge, exhausted and out of breath.

The moans of the undead forced me back into action. I edged my way to the front of the house, careful not to slip on the shingles. When I looked over the edge, I counted twenty-nine of them banging on the doors and windows.

Two of them finally managed to pull the bars off the front window. One of them dove forward, shattering the pane. The creature tried to crawl into the house. He fell back into the crowd behind him, his eye shot out. I absently wondered how many rounds it had taken Albert to accomplish that feat.

I took aim and fired into the tops of the monster’s heads before any more could breach the house. I went through almost two magazines (forty-eight rounds) dispatching them. I worked my way around the house, killing two more miserable bastards in the process.

I could hear one wailing and scratching at something but I couldn’t seem to locate him. I finally spotted him in a neighboring yard, clawing at the fence and trying to get to me. I waited for my breathing to slow down so I could get a steady shot and then fired, putting him down. I sat on the roof for ten minutes expecting more to show up, but none did.

I still had the shakes when I finally lowered myself over the ledge and dropped eight feet into the backyard. I walked around the house, cautiously stepped over the fallen corpses, and knocked on the front door. Albert opened it, his face ashen. He wanted to show me something.

Albert had broken down the door to the back room. It was the master bedroom. Inside was an elderly couple lying in their bed. They had been dead for some time. Their bodies were sunken and withered and in a later stage of decomposition. The smell in the room was sickeningly sweet. We walked out and closed the bedroom door, leaving them in peace.

It was time to get to business. Our looting efforts netted us three five-gallon bottles of water and one bottle that was almost half-full. In addition, there were over two-dozen cans of soup, several boxes of macaroni and cheese, several cans of condensed milk, four cans of pineapple, and about forty bottles of something called Ensure (which looks suspiciously like some kind of protein drink for old people).

I took some heavy duty fishing line and a portable radio out of a cupboard filled with fishing gear and Albert took some blankets and pillows. We were both starting to get a little antsy and decided it was time to go. It took us three nerve-wracking trips to get it all back to the house. When we arrived with the first load, Alison wanted to help but I told her to go on the roof and keep a lookout for us.

As we were leaving the neighbor’s house with our last load, I looked at all the bodies and then at Albert. We were both thinking the same thing; neither of us wanted to haul these corpses down to the pool. We hadn’t been back there since the other night and had no intentions of returning.

We put our last load on my front porch and walked back to the neighbor’s house, donning our gloves and masks. It took us almost two hours to drag the rotting dead creatures into the house. A good fifteen minutes of that was spent silently removing the heavy vent unit off the undead victim it had crushed. We left them all inside and went back home.

When we walked through my front door, Alison and Grace were waiting for us with concerned looks on their faces. Grace walked up to hug Albert but stopped when she got close, wrinkling her nose at him.

“Pooey, you stink.” she whined.

Alison looked at us sympathetically, but nodded in agreement. Even Chloe didn’t want to approach us. We took turns showering and then sat down to eat. We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening unwinding. I have had enough of home invading for a while.

DAY 33

Nothing noteworthy happened today. I am exhausted both physically and emotionally.
Last night, Albert gave up his room to me and I slept most of the day in my own bed for the first time in over a week. Albert’s wound is doing better. We are lucky he didn’t need stitches.

I am back on the couch tonight and still tired. Chloe, the traitorous little bitch, came out to sleep with me tonight. While she liked it at first, I think Chloe has finally had enough of Grace’s non-stop fawning attention and grooming. It’s a comfort to have her next to me again.

DAY 34

Today I taught Alison how to disassemble and clean all of our weapons.
Grace was playing quietly in the other room with Chloe, and Albert was in his room monitoring the stations on the CB and the portable radio we found. I had no idea where Roz was, but didn’t really care as long as she wasn’t causing any problems.

Just as I was reassembling the 10/22, Albert walked in, his eyes narrowed in anger. He didn’t say a word, just motioned us to follow him. I put a magazine into my .45 and chambered a round, wondering what was wrong.

We gathered in his room around the portable radio. Grace got curious and came in with us. Albert looked at her and said that he thought Chloe wanted to be brushed. Grace figured out she wasn’t invited and rolled her eyes, calling for Chloe as she left. I’m surprised Chloe isn’t bald by now from all the grooming she’s been getting.

Albert looked at us both seriously and then turned up the volume on the radio. I recognized Wayne the biker’s voice immediately. He had recorded a five-minute message and was broadcasting it in a loop. We caught the broadcast about halfway through its cycle and listened to it several more times after that. I have heard it enough by now that I have most of it memorized.

Wayne’s speech began with: “My name is Wayne Burton. I am a veteran of the Iraqi war for freedom and a member of a peaceful community of fellow veterans, women, and innocent children. A week ago, a group of godless terrorists bombed our home, exposing us to infected plague victims and killing sixteen of our loved ones.

They took our women and children. These cowardly acts of senseless violence cannot go unpunished. We are asking for help from any fellow Christian survivors who may be hearing this. If you have any information as to the identity or whereabouts of these heinous criminals we pray to God that you will contact us. We are offering a generous reward of a four-week supply of food and water to anyone who can help us.”

Wayne went on to give information about how to contact them and what to look for, describing our white truck and a detailed description of me and Alison.

In the middle of our third time listening to Wayne’s propaganda broadcast, we heard something hit the floor behind us. We turned to see Roz standing in the doorway. Her iPod lay broken on the floor. Roz’s fists were clenched and tears streamed silently down her face. Her whole body shook violently.

Albert turned off the radio, but it was too late. I don’t know how much she heard but I’m sure it was enough. She turned and fled to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Nobody said anything. For the first time since I met her, I had genuine empathy for Rosalyn. I was enraged by the broadcast but powerless to do anything about it. I guess we had already caused all the damage we could to them. I thought back to the feeling of being hunted by Wayne’s thugs and shivered a little.

I told Albert to keep listening for any updates. He nodded and I left the room. Alison went to go keep an eye on Grace and I retreated to the roof to keep a lookout.

I stayed on the roof most of the afternoon. In my imagination, I heard motorcycles circling the neighborhood, but when I listened carefully, it was just the wind or the occasional moans of the undead in the distance.

Alison joined me at one point and we sat together in silence, neither of us knowing what to say to the other. The broadcast had made me feel like a little kid who had done something wrong and knew he was going to be punished for it. It is stupid to feel this way. If they find us, it will be a death sentence for us all.

I think Alison realizes the same thing. She cried and leaned her head against my chest. I heard the back door open below us and then nothing else. Curious, I got up and looked over the edge of the roof. Grace stood below, fidgeting. She knew not to make noise outside and also that the ladder was off limits. I was proud of her discipline.

Alison wiped her tears and tried to compose herself. I told her I’d go find out what Grace wanted and that she could stay there. I left her my carbine and went down the ladder. When I got to the ground, Grace whispered urgently that she had to go “number 2.” I was pretty sure she could handle her own business in the bathroom so I told her to go ahead.

She explained that Roz had been in the back bathroom “forever” and that Albert was in the front bathroom making it stinky.

I could certainly sympathize with her not wanting to use a bathroom that Albert had desecrated, so I went with her to the back bathroom and knocked on the door. After getting no response for almost a minute I turned the handle. It was locked. Grace squirmed and danced around.

Something was wrong. I knocked on the front bathroom and Albert told me there was no way he could finish anytime soon. He used the words “severe diarrhea,” and “explosive,” so I left him alone.

I took Grace out back and asked Alison to come down. I handed her a roll of toilet paper from the storage closet and told her to take Grace out behind the garage and to not come back inside until I cleared it. Her eyes widened but she didn’t protest.

Grace quietly whined about not wanting to do it outside, but Alison took her hand and told her it would be just like camping.

I went back inside and knocked on the back bathroom door again. I told Roz that I was coming in and pulled out my Spyderco. I shoved the blade behind the molding on the doorframe and pushed the tip against the door latch, disengaging it.

I opened the door. One look was all I needed. Roz lay naked in the bathtub, dead. She had found my straight razor and slit her own throat, severing her carotid artery. She had been thorough, cutting her left wrist as well, up the vein, not across. She had not been shy about it and was not looking for attention. The cuts were long and deep.

I checked for a pulse even though I knew there was no chance. The amount of blood in the tub erased any doubts. I didn’t like her very much but ached from the loss. She deserved better. My practical side asserted itself and I quickly considered the logistics of what needed to be done. I didn’t want to expose Grace to this. She had enough problems.

I knocked on the front bathroom door again and shut Albert’s protests up by telling him to put a cork in it and get his ass out immediately. A minute later, he emerged, his face pallid and sweaty. I showed him Roz. He looked at me, all business now. He told me that Grace couldn’t see this.

We donned gloves, wrapped Roz’s body with the shower curtain from the front bathroom, and gently lifted her out of the tub. Her blood was sticky and warm. I carried her in my arms and, while Albert stood guard, I put her body in the back of the Yukon, closing the latch quietly.

Albert put one end of the hose into the pool next door and turned on the pump. We ran the hose through the bathroom window and rinsed the blood down the drain. I soaked a towel in soapy water and cleaned up the blood spatter on the walls. It took us forty minutes to get the bathroom presentable. I sprayed freshener and burned matches, but I couldn’t get the coppery smell of blood out of the air.

We finally went out into the backyard to tell Alison. I found her and Grace having a picnic and playing cards. Alison tried to keep up a brave front but knew something was wrong. Albert told Grace he was going to take her up on the roof. She was very excited and they went off together to go climb the ladder up to a new adventure. I had grabbed my carbine, knowing I would need to take Alison somewhere to give her the news.

We silently left through the makeshift gate in my back fence and crossed the property to the next street over. I took Alison to our gardening truck and we got inside so we could talk. I wanted to get the truck off the street now that it was identifiable and, while I hated having to be so practical as to kill two birds with one stone; this was a perfect opportunity to do both.