As the World Dies (16 page)

    Below, the zombies screamed and shrieked in frustration as they pushed at each other, gathering around the ladder. Another one had managed to step through the bottom rung and was now tangled up with the dead zombie. It kept slamming its fist against the rung above it, but seemed unable to figure out what to do.

    "Thank God they're dumb," Stacey whispered.

    Eric watched for a moment then slowly rolled up to sit with his back against the tank. Pepe crawled onto his lap and shivered against him.

    Too exhausted to move, Eric laid his hand over his dog's back and sighed.

    The storm hit two hours later. The dark ominous clouds had been enough warning for them to secure the tent and get their possessions organized. They climbed inside and huddled together with Pepe between them and listened to the wind howl as the rain splattered the tent. Below them, the zombies were unaffected by the rain and continued to moan.

    They were quiet and Eric knew they were thinking the same things. How long could they survive up on the water tower? Would the zombies figure out how to climb? Would anyone find them? How long would the food and water last? There were more zombies below than bullets and they were stuck.

    The rain poured off the top of the tent and the wind pulled at the edges, but Eric had done a good job securing it. They remained safe, warm and dry, but their spirits were low.

    "The Fort is close," Eric said at last. "Peggy said they would send out rescue teams."

    Stacey sat next to him, her legs drawn up to her chest, her arms folded across her knees. She looked toward him and sighed. "They don't know we're here."

    "Yeah, but we can signal them somehow."

    "How?" She looked at him pointedly. The tension in her body said it all. She was terrified.

    "I brought duct tape. We'll write the world ‘help’ on the water tower with it. We'll keep a watch for them heading our way and figure out a way to signal them. Fire the gun or something."

    "How many shots do we have left in the revolver?"

    Eric sighed. "Three."

    "And we have six shells for the shotgun."

    Eric rubbed his nose and fiddled with his glasses. "You're right. Can't waste the ammo unless we’re positive their close."

    "I think we can make the food last three weeks," she said after a beat.

    "Water is going to be harder once it’s gone."

    "We're on a water tower."

    "It's empty I think. For show now." Eric tapped the old-fashioned tank. "But we can rig some water reclamation device for the spring storms. There will be more. Besides, we have to keep positive that they will find us."

    Stacey sighed softly and reached out to pet Pepe. "I want to believe you."

    "Then do," Eric said firmly. "We'll live through this. I promise."

    The next few days they did all they could to secure their little home and make sure the supplies were rationed out. After some exploration, they realized there was no way to access the water tank and make sure it was without water without taking a huge risk to their safety by climbing on top and they abandoned the idea. After Eric studied the wind currents and how the surrounding trees broke up the airflow, he picked out a spot on the walkway that would be their lavatory. It was much easier for Eric to relieve himself, but Stacey was terrified at first to position herself between the rails. Eric rigged up a safety harness for her with ropes. He felt bad for her and he made sure to cut all the wet wipes in half to make them last as long as possible. Pepe, meanwhile, had trouble going at first, having been used to going on the grass, but he finally figured out what was expected of him.

    The simple things in life suddenly seemed so hard.

    Using bottles, some plastic bags and the rest of the tape, Eric managed to come up with a way to trap rainwater. This seemed to reassure Stacey a little. Their food stores concerned them the most and seeing cans of food littered at the bottom of the ladder was a reminder of Eric's close brush with death and the sacrifice Stacey had made.

    Every day Eric watched the Fort through his binoculars. It seemed so close and yet so far. He watched them clear out the zombie bodies, begin to expand the wall, and go about their daily business. And yet no vehicles came near their position and they seemed far away and terribly cut off from the hub of activity and life that was the Fort.

    It rained often and if there wasn't lightening, Stacey would stand out in the rain as a form of a shower. Feeling silly, Eric joined her, but then it was rather nice standing in the warm rain watching the sun pierce through the dark clouds above. One day, he looked over at her to see her face turned rapturously upward. What he had at first considered a plain face with a tiny rosebud mouth, rounded cheeks, turned up nose, and big eyes, suddenly looked quite pretty. Prettier than Brandy had ever looked with her immaculate makeup and fancy tresses. He felt humbled by this revelation. His old world was now long gone and Stacey made the life he had now bearable.

    “The rain is great,” Stacey said and grinned at him.

    He blushed at her catching him staring at her and nodded slightly. “It feels good. And makes them stink less.”

    She laughed and he joined her and it felt wonderful.

    The rain did dampen the smell of the zombies below and made it harder for the creatures to move around, as the ground became muddy. The dead zombie stuck in the bottom rung continued to confuse the dead and the one that had managed to tangle himself with it thrashed and moaned.

    Eric found himself growing fond of Stacey the more he got to know her. She was actually very nice and sweet. He discovered she liked a lot of the movies and books he did and seemed genuinely interested in his job. Since there was nothing else to do, they would talk for hours while Pepe lay between them getting lavished with attention.

    At night, they slept head to head, Pepe taking turns sleeping with each one of them.

    The days slipped by.

    They grew hungrier and weaker as they carefully rationed out their food and water. Stacey made both of them exercise each day to keep some level of fitness, but they both began to be more inclined to just sit and watch the clouds float by as they shared their life stories and their former dreams.

    The zombies continued to linger at the base of the ladder, trampling the precious cans of food into the ground. Their numbers increased to nearly thirty and the hope of escaping grew dimmer.

    Days became weeks.

    One night they heard a motorbike nearby and the sound of a girl screaming. The wail, moans and shrieks of a large pack of the dead followed this sound. Eric and Stacey stood and watched the headlight of the motorbike glide up the street then disappear from view as it swerved toward the fort. The dead following caused enough commotion to pull some of the zombies that had been lingering below to follow. They heard gunshots for a short period of time in the distance and Eric tried to see what was going on using his binoculars. He was able to figure out that something big went down, but the Fort fought it off. He stayed watching the fort for a long time. At one point, it looked like a party was happening on top of city hall and he felt a lump in his throat.

    So close, but so far away.

    The crowd below was down to fifteen zombies after that night, but they were not badly mutilated and seemed quick on their feet. At times, Stacey and Eric would stare down at them and discuss each one individually. They tried to give the zombies a story, even a name, but they eventually stopped when it became too painful to see them as anything other than a zombie. To see them as human only made their own losses more acute.

    The food became scarce. Pepe's bag of food was emptied. They began to feed him the meat from the beanie weenies.

    The days slipped on. Their rations became smaller.

    "We're starving to death," Stacey said one day. "Pepe is, too."

    The little dog lay on his side, his ribs showing, looking as weak as they both felt.

    "We can't give up," Eric said to her.

    "No one is coming," she whispered.

    "They will."

    "But if they don't, we'll die up here."

    She looked at him with sunken eyes and his heart broke a little. He hadn't realized how hollow her cheeks were now and he realized he had been in a strange denial despite his terrible hunger pangs and constant thirst.

    "What do you want to do?"

    "We have enough bullets to…” She covered her face and sobbed.

    Pepe whined and scooted closer to her.

    "I don't want to die," Eric said to her in a soft, firm voice and reached out to lay his hand on her shoulder.

    Stacey drew in a deep breath and looked toward him. "Either we do it ourselves or we risk running for it. Go down there, shoot them, kill them anyway we can and run for the Fort."

    Eric looked at the remains of their supplies. His small machete was there and the luggage. He could possibly make another weapon out of the metal from the frame of one of the suitcases. Maybe.

    "Before we're too starved to move or do anything,” Stacey added.

    Eric felt tears pricking his eyes and looked down at Pepe. The little dog looked fragile and his energy was low. He couldn't bear the thought of his dog starving to death. He couldn't bear the thought of raising his gun and shooting him.

    "Okay," he said finally. "Okay. Let's plan. We'll go tomorrow morning."

    Stacey let out an agonized sob and nodded her head.

    The rest of the day Eric worked on a makeshift hatchet using the remains of the cans and a metal rod he got out of a rolling suitcase. Stacey practiced swinging the machete as hard as she could and kept double-checking their bags for anything else they could use against the zombies. Pepe watched them with sad eyes, but didn't move much.

    That night, they ate an entire can of chicken soup and put the last can aside for breakfast. They fed Pepe the chicken bits out of the soup and savored the broth. Finally, they lay down and Stacey reached out to interlace her fingers with Eric's.

    
I'm going to kiss her tomorrow
, Eric thought and surprised himself with the notion. But it seemed natural. They had bonded to each other and she was one of the sweetest, strongest people he had ever met. She was only twenty-two years old but was more stable and confident than the older Brandy had ever been. In the last few weeks he had grown to admire her and consider her a friend. And now, he wanted to give her just one kiss, to show her how much he cared for her. How much she meant to him.

    A first and last kiss. It seemed silly and romantic, yet reassuring.

    He wasn't a fool. He knew the reality of the situation. They were going to die tomorrow and he had finally accepted it. But they would go down fighting.

    As Eric closed his eyes, he listened to Pepe’s breathing and sighed.

    
Strange
, he thought.
I finally found some sort of happiness in this world. And now it’s over.

Chapter Twenty-One

How It Ends

    Eric woke up that last day on the water tower from a hazy dream about Brandy talking to him on the phone being angry at him for hanging out with Pepe and some girl while she needed a manicure. She kept screaming at him, "Are you even there? Can you hear me?"

    He blinked at the sunlight streaming in from the opening in the tent and felt confused as he heard a voice call out.

    "Hello? Are you there? Can you hear me?"

    It was a woman's voice and Eric sat up swiftly. Shoving aside the flap of the makeshift tent, he stumbled out onto the walkway and looked over the railing. The zombies screeched and reached up toward him.

    A short bus was idling on the street beyond the trees and the thick bushes that lined the area around the water tower. A woman was sitting on top of the roof waving at him.

    The morning was crisp and he shivered as the cold sank into his skin.

    "Stacey, someone is here!"

    He began to wave at the woman on the bus. "We're here! We're alive!" Then he mumbled, "I hope I'm not dreaming."

    Stacey crawled out of the tent clutching Pepe. She blinked her eyes and stared at him drowsily. "What?'

    "How many are with you?" The woman's voice was loud, but the zombies were still more interested in Eric and Stacey.

    Maybe they had to see the person to hone in on them, Eric thought.

    The bus was barely visible through the trees and Stacey stared at it incredulously. "Am I dreaming?"

    "No, I don't think so. Or we both dreaming," Eric said with a grin.

    Stacey squealed and flung her arm around his waist. "We're saved!"