A New Death (Savannah's Only Zombie Novel) (4 page)

“Thank you,” Jeremy finally managed to vocalize.

The man nodded. He wasn’t giving Jeremy his full attention
yet, still peering out the window. Seeing the man now in a fuller light, Jeremy
noticed the brownish tinge of the man’s skin. His face was weathered,
especially for a man who seemed to be in his mid-forties.

“Are you a priest?” Jeremy asked bluntly.

The man barely nodded, still continuing to stare out the
window.

“I thought this was a Baptist church?”

“It is, was,” the man answered. “I don’t work here hijo. I
came to the city to visit friends when this all began to happen. This was the
closest church that looked open. I was hoping to seek refuge with some
hermanos, some brothers, regardless of our particular faiths. Jesus is still
our God.”

The man’s Spanish accent was much thicker in this longer
section of speech. It had not been as noticeable when he was barking commands
and Jeremy was running for his life.

“Uh, ok. Um… Father, uh, Padre,” Jeremy stammered. “Any idea
what the hell is going on here?”

The Padre looked away from the window, a sly grin forming
around his lips. He seemed to ponder Jeremy’s question before finally
answering.

“I think you have answered your own question. Hell is going
on here.”

Is this guy for real?
Jeremy thought.

The Padre’s grin faded and he looked back to the window.
After a few minutes of awkward silence passed, the Padre pushed the blinds back
towards the window and turned his full attention to Jeremy. The boy was visibly
shaken.

He did just survive a pretty close call with those
monsters. If I hadn’t made it to the gate in time, he would probably be dead
right now,
thought the man.

“What is your name, hijo?” the Padre asked, clearing his
throat.

“Jeremy.”

“Well, Jeremy,” the priest started. “You are very fortunate
to be alive right now.”

Jeremy snapped out of his daze and looked the priest in the
eyes.

“Fortunate?” he retorted. “Please enlighten me, Padre, on
how I am ‘fortunate’? I saw my mother get torn apart by those crazy people,
I’ve had to kill several of those people today, and I almost fu-freaking died
out there a few minutes ago!”

The priest moved away from the window and slowly walked up
to Jeremy, as if to walk up on a wounded animal. He gently placed his hands on
the boy’s shoulders and smiled.

“You are alive, hijo. For that you should be grateful. Not
many people have survived the day’s events. I am sorry for the loss of your
mother. I am. Many terrible things have been done today, but your mother, I
know she would want you to be grateful for your life,” the man said calmly and
smoothly.

Jeremy knew he was right. And he was glad to be alive. He
just didn’t know how to handle all of this. People freak out when they lose
loved ones in normal situations. Watching dead people fight over and rip apart
your mother’s body was not a normal situation.

“I tried to save her…” Jeremy choked out, tears beginning to
slide down his cheeks.

His emotions were beginning to take control of him. He had
cried at the house earlier, but those tears were different. Earlier, all he
felt was anger and the rage. But it was just now hitting him he’d never see his
mom again. She believed in heaven, but Jeremy always thought that was just
wishful thinking.

You just die
, he thought.

And besides, if how she believed you got there was true,
then Jeremy definitely would not be seeing her again. Too much bad stuff in his
life. Too much anger towards God. And believing that some man two thousand
years ago died for his sins? That was too much for Jeremy. He played around
with the idea when he was younger, but as he grew older, it became harder to
believe in that.

“I’m sure you did try to save her, hijo,” the Padre said.
“Sometimes the circumstances are beyond our control and we have to trust in
Go-”

“Yeah? And where was God in all this?” Jeremy angrily cut
him off. “Where was God when I was trying to save her? Where is he now Padre?
Huh? What’s he up to right now? Just chillin up there in the sky, watchin the
show?”

The Padre took his hands off of Jeremy’s shoulders as the
boy ranted. He very casually leaned back against the desk and listened.

“I mean, what is all of this?” Jeremy continued. “Some sort
of sick cosmical joke? ‘Let’s watch those humans eat each other.’ Yeah, good
one God! Very funny! ‘Let’s watch Jeremy try and save his mother, only to fail
and let her die.’ What kind of sick prick would do that? Huh, Padre? Where is
your God now?”

The man just watched as Jeremy flipped his lid. His
expression was set; his face never changing. There was a hint of sadness in his
face as he patiently listened to the boy’s lament.

“You finished hijo?”

He asked very calmly. His calmness was in stark contrast
with Jeremy’s off the cuff frustration. This only added to Jeremy’s
frustration.

“Hijo? What does that even mean anyways?” Jeremy barked.

The man smiled.

“Sorry,” he started. “It’s Spanish for ‘son’. You can take
the priest out of México, but you can’t take the México out of the priest.”

Jeremy quickly grew embarrassed. If he had calmed down and
thought clearly, he would have remembered that from Spanish class. A class
which he actually did well in. His head hung low. The priest paused for minute,
processing all of what Jeremy said.

“To be honest with you hijo,” Padre began. “I don’t fully
understand what is going on here. I don’t know how this all came to be. But I
do know one thing: God is good. And loving. This disease or whatever it is
making people act this way, this is just me thinking, but I have a hard time
believing it is from God. Too many times has man tried to play God and met
disastrous results. This, this reeks of that. I don’t think this plague is from
God, but yet more likely, God has allowed it to happen.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said. “Well, why would He just allow this to
happen then? That doesn’t seem very loving or good.”

“God works in mysterious ways. I know that has become quite
the cliché here in the states, but that doesn’t change the fact that the
statement still rings true. He could have very easily stopped all of this.
Without breaking a sweat. Do you honestly believe that an all-powerful God
couldn’t stop this? Easily he could. I don’t know why He allows certain things
to happen. But I do know the book of Romans tells us that He allows us to
pursue after the lusts in our hearts and He turns us over to our debased minds.
In a sense, God says, ‘Fine, if sin is all you want, then go get it. Go chase
the wind.’ It may sound harsh, but he does that because he loves us. He wants us
to know that we can chase things, money, sex all day, but in the end, we will
be incomplete without him.”

Jeremy nodded slowly, digesting every word the Padre said.
Flashes of old felt-board, Sunday School lessons came to mind.

“Also, it says in Ephesians, that we are dead in our
trespasses and sins. We think we are alive, but in reality we are spiritually
dead. Sound familiar? These things out there, they are not so much different
from us. I’m not saying that God allowed this to happen to teach us that, but
you have to admit the irony is amazing.”

Jeremy again nods.

“You see, Jeremy,” he said. “These dead are a great picture
of us. We are dead and our only desire is to consume, no matter what the cost.
For us it can be anything, money, fame, or even good things. But for these
dead, it is flesh. And they will consume it no matter what the cost. We have
all rebelled against God and pursued His creations more than Him. We have
desired the creation over the Creator. And then we have the audacity to say
that He owes us! That God is unfair! God owes no man! Everything in the
universe is His! We stand there and point our fingers to the heavens and say,
‘Where are you God? Why have you done this to me?’ When all the while we are
the ones running and rebelling against Him, the One who created us and gave us
breath.”

The Padre stopped. He did not mean to preach to the boy, but
something moved him to say all this. Maybe it was frustration, maybe it was
concern. Or maybe, maybe he was preaching this to himself. Reminding himself of
the truth he knew to be true.

“Jeremy,” he said, taking a deep breath before starting
again.

   “Everyone wants to blame God for when the world falls
apart. Never stopping to think that maybe it’s us who are tearing it apart and
it is Him who is holding it all together.”

The words hung in the air as Jeremy let them sink in. Ever
since his parents divorced, he had held a chip on his shoulder when it came to
God. But if what the priest was saying was true, then maybe it wasn’t God’s
fault for his parent’s failed marriage. Maybe, it was just theirs.

“So,” Jeremy began, still working out what he was going to
say in response. “Then God is just gonna leave us here to our own devices? He’s
just gonna leave us here with these freaks? Just let us destroy ourselves? Or I
guess now, eat ourselves?”

He noticed the man light up and a big, warm smile crossed
his face.

“No, hijo!” Padre said, beaming. “That’s nowhere near the
end of the story! The Father has set in motion a plan of redemption for us long
before the creation of the world…”

There was a crash from downstairs.

Both men’s heads snapped in the direction of the door. The
Padre held up a finger to his mouth, signaling to Jeremy for silence. He
received no argument as Jeremy froze. He reached over to the desk and picked
the shotgun up, slowly and quietly. There was shuffling and other noises heard
from the other side of the door.

“Hijo,” the Padre whispered.

Jeremy turned to look at the priest. He was holding out a
set of keys.

“There is a small, blue pick-up truck in the parking lot.
Use it to escape.”

“But what about you? Where are you going?” Jeremy stammered.

But it was too late. The Padre had already flung open the
door and started firing into the crowd of zombies.

Boom. Splat. Boom. Splat.

The Padre laid out the dead with a steady rhythm of shotgun
shells and brain matter. How a group that size got into the building without
alerting them both was beyond Jeremy. Perhaps he was so focused on what the
Padre was saying and the Padre was so enwrapped in saying it, that the two of
them had simply just missed the noise. It was almost as if the zombies had
snuck in.

Boom. Splat. Boom. Splat. Click. Click. Click.

Padre’s gun was out of shells, but that didn’t stop the
priest from his attack. He took the butt end of the gun and swung it into the
head of a girl whose left eye was hanging from the socket. The blow threw her
head back and the eye flew off into the crowd.

“Hijo! You need to run now!” Padre yelled.

Jeremy realized that he had frozen to watch the man of God
deal a massive blow to the dead onslaught. He moved with such speed and
precision. For a man who was called to peace and love, he moved like a trained
warrior. Jeremy watched as the man connected a fist with the face of zombie,
sending the thing recoiling back into the group, clearing a path. It was time
to run.

Jeremy pulled the machete out from his backpack and ran into
the fray. The Padre had cleared the path down the stairs, but Jeremy would have
to hack and slash his way through to make the path wide enough for him to slip
by. He did, as the Padre followed behind him, pushing the boy forward. They
fought their way down the stairs and into the reception area. Jeremy was just
about to open the door, when a zombie hand reached out and grabbed him by his
backpack. He spun quickly, fixing to bring the machete down on the rotting arm,
but watched as the butt end of the shotgun came crashing down onto its skull.

“Run for the truck,” the winded man said.

Jeremy did. His feet hit the asphalt and took off in the
direction of the blue pickup. The herd of zombies outside was larger than the
one inside. The gunfire from earlier must have attracted them to the church,
because it was quickly being overrun. How they were getting in around the fences
was a mystery to Jeremy. There must have been an opening somewhere. Jeremy
looked towards the truck and counted five zombies in between him and his
escape.

No biggie,
he thought.

He ran with all he had, refreshed from the short break. His
backpack bounced against his back, propelling him forward. He zipped past the
first zombie with no problem. It was slow. He turned to see if the Padre was
behind him. He was not.

“Where is he?” he asked out loud.

There was a small group of dead massing near the door; some
were kneeling down over something. One of them stood up. It was holding
something near to its mouth. Jeremy squinted, trying to make out what it was.
It was a blood stained white collar.

“No!” he yelled.

The dead in unison all looked at him, losing interest in the
meal they had before them. They were now setting their sights on something new
to consume. One moaned, thus causing the others to moan in reply as they
shambled in Jeremy’s direction.

He turned and began to run towards the truck, but came face
to face with one of the living dead. Its eyes were grey and dull, void of any
life. The smell of decomposing flesh filled Jeremy’s nostrils; he would have
thrown up, but the danger was too imminent. Its wilted arms reached out, not
for a friendly hug, but trying to grab a hold of its prey. Jeremy swung the
machete up into the air and then brought the full force of it crashing back
down onto the zombie’s skull.

Its grey, dead eyes rolled back into its head, thick, brown
blood pouring from where the blade split through bone and tissue. Jeremy went
to yank the blade back. It didn’t budge. It was stuck. He tried again. Stuck.
The other dead approached quickly.

Fuck it,
he thought and ran, pushing over the zombie
who stole his only weapon.

When he got to the truck, he did not become the girl from
the movies again. He did not fiddle with his keys and drop them over and over
again. He got in, slid them into the ignition, and roared the truck to life. The
brights came on when he cranked the truck on. The dead did not seem to like the
sudden change of light, because all caught in the beams of the truck threw up
their arms, shielding themselves from the light. The dead do not like the
light.

Jeremy threw the truck into drive and floored it. He took
out one of the zombies in the process, sending its dead body tumbling under the
pick-up. As he drove towards the exit, he saw what looked like the Padre’s
lifeless body still lying over by the building. For being mostly intact, he
still had not gone through the transformation into one of those things. He was
still dead.

He should be up by now. They have been coming back
quicker than that. Maybe some take longer.

Jeremy turned his attention back to driving. He reached the
exit gate, ran out and swung open the large gate. Quickly, he returned to the
truck as the dead were trying to catch up to him across the parking lot. He
pulled the truck out onto the street and took off in the direction of his
father’s house. The roads were eerily clear of any traffic. The problem was the
abandoned vehicles. They were everywhere. Savannah streets could be narrow
enough, but add derelict cars to the equation, and you were looking at a tight
squeeze. It was like people tried to leave, but just abandoned their vehicles
and made off on foot. He swiftly, but carefully guided the truck down the road.

As he came a few blocks short of the neighborhood his father
lived in, the blocked roadways became too clogged for the truck to get through.
He was going to have to make the rest of his journey on foot. Now the reason
for all the abandoned cars was beginning to make sense. He did not like the
idea of walking. Especially, since he didn’t have his machete anymore, but what
choice did he have?

Looking around to see if he could find anything in the cab
that would be of some use, he came across the Padre’s bible. Much like his
mother’s, the cover was cracked and worn, the pages creased and nearly falling
out. Page after page was filled with markings and notes. This book had seen
much use.

“I already have Mom’s,” he said, setting the book down on
the seat.

He picked up another book, a worn, leather covered notebook.
He flipped it open to see handwritten pages crammed full of tiny writing, both
in English and Spanish. It was the Padre’s journal. Now that the Padre was
gone, Jeremy could still get to know the man through his journal. He decided to
read it later, tucking the book into his bag, next to his Mother’s bible. A
last quick scan of the truck and the only thing he found to replace his machete
was a Phillips head screwdriver.

Better than nothing I guess.

He quietly closed the door and began to walk towards his
father’s house. The street lights were still on. This area still had power.
This somewhat comforted Jeremy. The shadows the light cast across the road, however,
did not. They played tricks on Jeremy’s eyes. Every dark corner seemed to
hiding a zombie. They might have been.

Normally, you would need to have a pass to enter the gated
community, but today, the gates were wide open. One of them hung broken from its
hinges. The guard shack was abandoned and the light was still on inside. Jeremy
gripped the screwdriver tight to his chest. He had to be ready for anything. If
those things could sneak up on him and the Padre at the church, very easily one
of them could get the jump on him here.

It was empty. He breathed a sigh of relief. Jeremy felt
himself getting tired and he needed to rest. The whole incident at the church
was beginning to take its toll on him, the adrenaline not pumping in him as it
was then. Plus, he was getting hungry.

What was the last thing I ate?

It was an energy drink and a bag of chips on his break at
work.

Work… I guess I don’t have to go back to that place.

He began to think about the shopping carts. He thought about
Brian the douche yelling at him about the shopping carts. He thought about
Ashley, giggling at him as he struggled with the shopping carts.

Ash…

She was probably the only reason he still worked there. He
had thought of quitting several times, but the fact that she was there, made
him stay. And he never worked up the courage to ask her out. They had talked
several times, shared their breaks together, and she probably even considered
him a friend. There was one time when Brian was being extra-douchey to everyone
and was yelling at Ashley for something. Jeremy brought up the fact that he
messed up one woman’s coupons just to take the heat off Ashley. Brian fell for
the bait and ever since, Ashley had been nice to Jeremy.

Until now,
he thought.
She’s dead. Brian’s dead.
Mom and the Padre are all dead.

There were no dead here. It seemed that these rich people
made it out alive. Four car garages were left open. Light in 14,000+ square
feet houses were still on. Some of these houses were on deep water. Jeremy
wondered if anybody tried to escape by boat.

Not a bad idea
, he thought.
Except that you would
have to return to land eventually to get food and drinkable water. On second
thought, maybe not such a good idea.

He reached his destination without any problems. The lights
were not on in the house. Looking at his cell phone, he discovered the screen
had cracked.

Probably when I flew off the bike.

It was still readable though. It was only 11:17. It had been
seven hours since Jeremy was at work. Much had changed in seven hours.

The house was empty. It looked like his father wasn’t here.
Normal.

“Hello?” Jeremy called out into the darkness. “Dad? You
home?”

There was no answer. No moans either, so he pressed on into
the house. He flipped on a few light switches, his eyes taking some time to adjust
from coming in out of the dark. The house was clean and in order. It didn’t
even look like someone lived here. Jeremy wandered up to his father’s bedroom,
turning on lights as he went.

The master bedroom was also empty and very clean. The bed
was made, clothes were off the floor and put away. This wasn’t like his dad.
The man lived his life like the extravagant bachelor he was. After the divorce,
his father won a huge pile of money in Vegas. So, on top of the man’s money as
a plastic surgeon, he now had a few million more. Meanwhile, Jeremy’s mother
was left working two jobs and other side work just to keep the bills paid. Even
Jeremy would pitch in from his paycheck.

His mother wanted nothing to do with his father, so she
wouldn’t accept a dime from the man. Jeremy didn’t care for the man either, but
he wouldn’t have minded having a little of the man’s cash. Birthdays were
normally nice. They were one of the few times his mother allowed him to accept
money from his father.

The only thing that seemed out of place in the room was a
video camera set up on a tripod. It was pointed directly at the bed.

Probably don’t want to see what’s on that thing,
he
thought with a grimace.

His father always had some new piece of arm-candy that was
more attracted to the man’s financial status than his personality. His father
was probably a close second to Brian in doucheness. Being a plastic surgeon,
the man had his options of “female companionship”. Just one more reason Jeremy
disliked his father. He left the room and headed towards the kitchen. His
stomach was growling. He had to get something to eat.

Once in the kitchen, he went straight to the fridge. It was
as empty as the house. There was an expired gallon of milk, a few slices of
moldy cheese, and a lone yogurt shoved in the back. Jeremy grabbed the yogurt
and closed the door.

Please be good, please be good…

He looked at the expiration date. It still had a few weeks
left. He began to frantically search through the drawers for a spoon. After not
finding one, he ripped the lid of the yogurt, and crushed the cup, the yogurt
erupting into his mouth.

Sweet Jesus. That is some good yogurt. I don’t even care
how stupid I look right now.

He wasn’t sure if the yogurt was really good or that he was
just so stinking hungry. He finished it and threw the cup into the sink. Wiping
off the yogurt from around his mouth, he noticed a picture sitting on the
counter.

It was a picture of him and his father.

That’s new. I’ve never seen that before. It might even be
the only picture of me in this place.

They looked happier in the picture. Jeremy was wearing a
baseball uniform, holding his glove and a baseball. His father stood next to
him, beaming with pride. Jeremy remembered that day. It was the day his little
league team won the championship. His dad was the coach then. That was before
the divorce. Frustration washed over Jeremy’s face.

Why? Why did you have to mess everything up?

He took the frame and placed it face down on the counter. It
was then that he noticed the piece of paper sitting on the counter next to the
frame. It was a note to the cleaning ladies. Apparently, Jeremy’s father wasn’t
even in town. He wasn’t even in the country. He was off on a pleasure cruise in
the middle of the ocean on his private yacht. The world has gone to hell and
where was his father? Living it up out on the ocean.

“That son of a bi-,” Jeremy started, but stopped when he saw
a picture of his Grandmother on the kitchen wall. She seemed to be looking down
on him, with disapproving eyes towards his foul lanuage.

“Sorry Grandma.”

He crumpled up the note and threw it across the room. His
mother was dead and his father was nowhere to be found. This made Jeremy so
much more exhausted. Wandering into the living room, he collapsed onto the
couch. His eyes were growing heavy with sleep.