Aftermath (Invasion of the Dead) - Part I (11 page)

“Little change of plan,” Callan said.  Dylan sat forward, hopeful.  “
We’re driving straight through the centre of town.”

“We’re stopping at my parent’s house?”  Dylan said. 

“No,” Callan said.  “We’ve been through this.  I’m going home.”

Sherry said, “That’s just crazy.  We need to stop.  I need to get out of this
fucking car, Callan.  You brought me on this stupid trip so you’d better take me somewhere safe.”

“I
will babe, I will.  But I need to know if mom’s okay.”

5.
        
Home

Callan
’s stupidity infuriated Dylan.  He had to think of something else to stop himself inciting an argument.  Callan’s house was too far.  They would have to drive through another five mobs like the previous one and next time they wouldn’t be so lucky. 

The situation w
as worse than they had imagined.  Survival rates would be low.  The idea that he would never see his mom or dad again left him with an overwhelming feeling of terror.  He wanted to throw up, and considered fleeing the convoy and trudging home to find out either way if they were dead or alive.  He understood Callan’s desire to investigate his house first, but it put the group at greater risk.  They had to stick together though.  Alone, they wouldn’t last twenty minutes.     

The car burned down
East Street, turned the corner and hurried along Main.  Dark shops crowded the road on both sides, and they could see straggling zombies at the fringe of the headlights.  More cars sat parked at the curb, their windows shattered.

They
chased the bend around Jameson’s park where shadows promised fresh horrors.  Dylan grabbed the front passenger seat as Callan brought the car to a sudden halt, the tyres chirping in resistance.

Ahead, milling at the intersection of Lauren and Jackson Streets
and far beyond, were thousands of them.  A cold skin crept over him.  If their previous encounter had seemed dangerous, this would surely mean death.  The bulk of them wandered about the road, turning in small circles, bumping into each other.  The odd one stood gnawing on the neck or limb of an ignorant victim.  It was one enormous zombie party.  Bodies lay on the street in lifeless layers, some dead, others moaning.  Even in the headlights, they could see the blood splashed across their faces and clothes.  Several shops were alight, and glass lay shattered over the bitumen.  He felt sure that one of their parents had to be in the group.  The odds of all surviving seemed infinitesimal.

The
Jeep sat a hundred yards away and so far, the horde hadn’t noticed the headlights.  Dylan was certain they wouldn’t get through to Callan’s house in this direction.  Back to the Riverina Highway was the only option if Callan insisted on his original plan.  Dylan’s home was five minutes’ drive.  His parents lived in a double storey house on a hill, and an electrified, barbed wire fence surrounded the property.  It might not stop a thousand hungry corpses but it would prevent individuals from strolling in.

P
ointing this out to Callan would only cause trouble though.  He needed to figure things out for himself, and Dylan thought he might be close. 

“
I don’t like our chances of making it through that,” Callan said.

“There
’s too many of them,” Greg said. 

Callan smashed a fist against the steering wheel.
  “Fucking fuckkkkkkk!”  He lay back against the seat.  “I can’t win.  If I drive on, we’ll die.  If I don’t go home…  ”.  He glanced at them.  “What if we go home and they’re in trouble and because we went
there
, we saved them?”

Kristy
opened her mouth to speak, but Dylan put a finger to her lips and shook his head.  He knew Kristy and the others agreed with his plan, but her brother was close to the same deduction.

In a softer voice,
Callan said, “I’ve tried to make the right choices today.  All the decisions have been about safety.  Going home was supposed to be the least risky move.  I really thought that.”

Dylan wanted to tell him it had always been risky.

“But that…” Callan glared at the mass of zombie’s.  “That’s madness.  This entire
fucking thing
is madness.  That last one that pounded on the window, who tried to get in… there was something different about him.  He was scary.  If they had all been like that, we’d be dead.”

“What are you thinking?”  Greg said.

“How far is your house, Dylan?”

Dyla
n sat rigid, controlling his hopefulness.  “You go right at the next turn, along Gillam and onto Starling, then all the way out to Silvan road.  Ten minutes, tops.”

Callan
considered this.  “Let me be clear.  As soon as it is safe, I’m going to my parent’s house to check on them.  Alone if I have to.”

“I’ll come with you,” Greg said.  “Soon as we get some more ammo.”

“Alright.  I ain’t driving through
that.
”

Several zombies looked up towards the
m and began a slow trudge in their direction.

“They’ve seen
us,” Sherry said
.
 

A commotion occurred about fifty yards ahead
below a sign that said: SIRELLI’S PIZZA.  They had all eaten pizza from Joe Sirelli’s shop.  Orange flames appeared at street level, reaching out through the front windows, and smoke rose in a grubby trail.  One of the zombies moved unusually fast, bouncing from one to the other. 

“
Is that a person?”  Dylan said.

“Yeah,” Callan said.  “I don’t think-”
 

“Two of them,” Kristy said, as another chased.

They had burst from the flaming pizza shop in a desperate escape, running towards the Jeep. 

“They’ve seen us,” Kristy said.  “They need help.  Drive closer Cal.”

Zombies lurched at the desperate couple, blocking their way with gangling limbs.  They had made it about fifteen yards.  Callan rolled the vehicle forward.

“
Don’t be stupid,” Sherry said.  “Where are they going to fit?” 

The man led, waving his arm
, shoving the undead aside with desperation, and calling out in a muffled voice.

“They can sit in the boat,” Greg said.  “
If we pull the cover back they’ll be able to hold on until we get to safety.”

“
Go closer, Cal.  We have to help them.  I think its Serena and Joe.  They must have been in the pizza shop for weeks,” Kristy said.

“It is,” Callan said, and he
let the brake off a little more, edging the car forward.

Serena
fell first.  One of the zombies feeding on the road turned toward the commotion and tripped her.  She went sprawling onto the bitumen in a heap.  Others aborted their ignorant wanderings and fell onto her.  A loud piercing scream chilled Dylan’s skin.

“No,” Kristy said.  “We have to do so
mething.”  She unclipped her belt and flung off her three hundred dollar pair of Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses.

Dylan
grabbed the buckle.  “We can’t.”

“He’s right,” Callan said.  “We’ll die.”

Kristy seemed poised to argue, but said, “Please, Greg?”    

Greg watched, unmoving
.

Joe Sir
elli had gone back for his wife, throwing his heavy build at the monsters like a football blocker to keep them away.  They milled around her, fighting to get at the fresh meat.  He swung wild roundhouse punches, and the rotting zombie heads snapped rearward.  Others groped for him, and when his fists would not work, he kicked at them and they fell into each other, collapsing in an awkward heap.  Finally, he reached his wife, but a pack of undead was feeding on her, and as Joe clawed at them, others converged on him in overwhelming numbers. 

Kristy sobbed.  Sherry looked away.
 

“
Fucking bastards
,” Callan said.  Joe disappeared and the zombies fed.

“There,” Greg said, pointing at the throng.

“What?”  Callan said. “Is that a…” 

At the edge of the massacre, a dog appeared, barking and growling.

“It’s a heeler,” Greg said.  Blue Heelers were famous for droving cattle.  They nipped at the heels of the cows, driving them in the required direction for herding.  Stocky and tough, they generally had black pointed ears and a predominantly bluey-white coat.

“Get ‘em boy, get ‘em,” Callan said.  “
Tear some fucking heads off.”

Several zombies
lurched at the dog, but he was quick, zipping between their legs in figure eight patterns. 

“
Don’t get caught doggie,” Kristy said.

One undead staggered after it, clawing
repeatedly at fresh air, unwilling to quit.  It shoved aside the undead, biting into the neck of one in another failed attempt.  The dog scuttled to the edge of the mayhem, turned, and barked. 
You can’t catch me,
it said.

“
Go buddy, go,” Dylan said, pumping a fist.  

The zombie screamed
.  The dog turned and ran off into the night. 

“That’s one of the crazy ones,” Callan said.  “They’re different.”

The Jeep gave a violent shake, and Greg reached up for the handle above the passenger door.

“Shit
,” Dylan said.  Several zombies banged on the back window of the Jeep.  “Just drive.  We can’t help the Sirelli’s.”     

He turned to see if there was another of the crazy ones, but their impassive expressions confirmed they were the normal type. 
Fuck, I’m classifying them now,
Callan thought.  He flicked the switch down to parking lights, accelerated the twenty yards, and turned right into Gillam Street.  Stragglers from the mob were still thirty yards away.   

“They’re gone, “Dylan said.

A soft orange glow spilled onto the road in front of them, offering poor visibility, but it would ensure their stealth through the streets.

In the darkness, Kristy
took Dylan’s hand again.  Her skin was soft, warm, and he closed his eyes, knowing that his feelings for her had grown beyond a curious liking.  Perhaps it was the situation embellishing the sensation, he didn’t know, but the feeling existed in his belly, sweet and enjoyable, fighting against the constant nervousness and fear of the circumstances. 

She sniffed, fighting tears, and Dylan put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.  What could he say?  There were no words.  They all
knew the Sirelli family.  The impact was greater than the old man or the soldier.  If it had been the beginning of a bad dream before, now they were in a nightmare.   

It took a little more than
ten minutes to reach Silvan road.  Dirt greeted them and the car slowed.  They had left the city borough, where thick brush lined the roads and cows and horses roamed extensive paddocks.

Callan twisted
the indicator to full headlights.

Dylan said,
“Should we do that?  They might see us.”

“
You know what it’s like out here.  The roads are narrow and there are potholes everywhere.  We might end up off the side.”

The road thinned
to one lane in places where feeder creeks cut their way through snarling trees and lush vegetation to join the mighty Murray River further out of town.  Dylan’s parents had talked about forming a paying coalition to have the road paved, but it hadn’t happened, and probably never would, he realised.

They reache
d Dylan’s property where a wide, steel gate loomed, odd against a backdrop of paddocks and trees.  Years ago, an unhappy employee broke in through the garage and confronted Dylan’s mother, so his father had hired a security company to outfit the estate.  Wire fences ran along the boundary, the upper section barbed.  Under normal circumstances, they would be electrified, but he suspected the electricity was out.  They might be able to get the generator running though.  

Callan turned the
Jeep into the small section of space in front of the gate and let the car idle.  The lights painted the entrance and the stony driveway beyond.  The house sat huge and shadowy in the distance.  Three enormous gumtrees towered over the dwelling in different locations, as if protecting it. Dylan had expected darkness.  If his parents were inside, they wouldn’t be advertising it.

“You don’t have a remote for the gate, do you?”  Callan said.

Dylan chortled.  A coil of nerves tightened around his belly.  “I wish.”  Kristy squeezed his hand.  “There’s a lever that changes the gate from automatic to manual.  Won’t take a moment.”  He unlocked his seatbelt.

“Take the axe,” Callan said.
  “You never know.”

D
arkness beyond the murky yellow headlights appeared peaceful, innocuous.  It might have been any other night, coming home from a friend’s house or the movies. 
Tell yourself that. 
He had no choice.  He had argued for the refuge of his parents’ house and now he almost had it.