Crowded Yet Desolate: A Zombie Novel (6 page)

How in the world did Deborah get bitten? he wondered.

Chapter 7

How did Deborah get bitten
? The question plagued Ryan the entire night. He knew that being bit led to infection and that Deborah had never left the room. So how then, he wondered, was this possible? Several scenarios kept running through his mind, but each seemed flawed in some way. Could she have been bitten at the festival? He supposed it was possible; she did seem a little odd that night, as if something were wrong. But he saw her naked, and there had been no bite marks on her. Could she possibly have let an infected person in, been bitten, gotten him or her back out, and then locked the door again, all without Ryan noticing? Nothing seemed to make sense.

These thoughts intermingled with flashbacks of that horrible day. He couldn’t shake the image of the poor girl being eaten by her father. Was she a zombie now? he wondered. After stirring for some time, he gave up on the idea of sleep, sitting up to find that everyone else was struggling to find sleep as well. Ryan somehow found comfort in this. As the sun began to rise, its rays crept in through window, perturbing everyone into life. They sat up, exhausted, moaning and yawning.

Cam stretched his hands into the air. “God I have to pee,” he mumbled. He got up and started towards the bathroom, but froze next to the window. He stared out, mouth hanging.

“Oh my God.” To wake himself, he rubbed his face and shook his head. “Guys . . . come look.”

Ryan yawned, now feeling like he could sleep if he were still allowed. As he walked to the window, he couldn’t fathom what was upsetting Cam. They had only been lying down for a few hours. How could things possibly have gotten worse?

“Holy shit,” Ryan said, staring out the window.

Zombies populated the entire intersection, and the pavement had disappeared underneath their shuffling feet, leaving little room for their movement.
Or for our escape
, Ryan thought. The monsters pressed up against the building, sandwiched between the side of the shooting range and the entrance to the apartment buildings. Their collective stench drifted up through the cracks surrounding the windows. Ryan pinched his nose, wondering whether the smell was authentic or in his head, and turned away.

“We’re screwed. Totally fucking screwed,” Cam said, as the others joined them by the window.

Ryan guessed that the undead gathered outside numbered somewhere in the hundreds, like a pack of dogs waiting to be fed their next meal. Did they even have enough ammo to kill all of them? Ryan searched in himself for some hope. Any hope, anything at all he could offer to the group. He found nothing.

Kyle spoke, succeeding where Ryan had failed. “The roof! We could go to the roof and try to take them out from there!”

Roe studied the suggestion. “No.” He shook his head, discernment on his face. “It’s too risky, too much noise. By the time we killed all of them, we could have attracted twice as many.”

“Ya, I guess that’s true,” Kyle said. “There’s got to be a way out, though. I know it! We weren’t left alive this long to just die here.”

Ryan did not know if he agreed with Kyle. He saw no higher power guiding them safely from here, a being that had omniscient control over their fates. If so, where was it for all those who had died yesterday? Ryan knew he could very well join the dead soon–here, now. But again, he was okay with dying. He could finally escape this nightmare and see Deborah again. It was only in this mindset, when he had given up hope of survival, that Ryan found the solution. The plan formulated in his mind, and all thoughts of going to see Deborah vanished. The night before, he had seen every single weapon in the store. He knew them all: the ones that made lots of noise, the ones that made no noise . . .

“Guys, I think I’ve had a stroke of genius.”

Ryan explained the plan and the others listened attentively. Ryan expected to be laughed at by the twins, for Kyle to place one hand on his shoulder and say, “God forgives you for your stupidity, brother.” Instead, Ryan was surprised to find consensus.

“Genius,” Albert agreed.

Cam followed. “Shit man, did you major in zombie survival?”

“He probably didn’t, but I did. And this is going to work,” Roe said.

Kyle just placed one hand on Ryan’s shoulder and smiled.

Twenty minutes later they stood on the roof, the heat barreling down on them with no wind to rescue. This was good, Ryan had to remind himself as he wiped the first drops of sweat from his eyes. Wind would only make things more difficult. At their feet were two crossbows and a collection of arrows–all that the store had. Ryan went through the plan in his head again, looking for any glaring flaws.

When none were apparent, Ryan said, “I guess it’s time.”

Joe and Roe looked at each other, nodding their heads, and picked up the crossbows. They each pulled the lever at the end, bringing the bow to a ready position, then loaded an arrow. Holding the crossbows uneasily in front of them, they looked through their scopes and shot into the mass of zombies below. Neither hit their intended targets, but because the streets were packed, each arrow found a zombie. One landed in between the shoulder blades of a zombie, causing it to stagger forward, while the other thudded into a zombie’s chest. Both zombies continued as normal, no sign of pain, no sign of awareness, as if nothing had happened at all.

“So we have do have to destroy the brain to kill them,” Albert said, arms crossed, in the mild mannerism of one who just made a scientific breakthrough.

Everyone was silent as arrow after arrow rained into the hoard of zombies, afraid that they may break the twin’s concentration. The arrows narrowed closer to their targets, until finally they began to pierce their intended skulls. Zombies soon fell with arrows sticking out like horns, knocking other zombies to the side, and creating movable space. The twins continued to kill the zombies, aiming for the ends of the hoard, layering the already bloody ground with more bodies. Finally, the barrage came to a halt.

Roe breathed in deeply. “The arrows are all out.”

“Yep. I reckon we got around fifty of them,” Joe said proudly.

“Ya, looks about right,’ Ryan said, wiping sweat off the back of his neck as the heat of the Atlanta morning beat down upon him. “Good work boys. Now its time for the hard part.”

The twins dropped the crossbows, and everyone made their way back to the staircase. All but Ryan, who stood near the edge of the building, looking down at the beasts. His face was measured, his mood surprisingly serene, yet he felt something inside him rising and keeping him stuck in place. He stared at each of the zombies on the ground, arrows piercing through temples and forehead and eyes and crowns, and studied their facial features, trying to find a balance between empathy and callousness, mourning over their lost lives yet accepting that they were dead long before the arrows touched them.

“You coming?” Ryan heard Joe asked. He turned. Joe had his right hand in his pocket, his left resting on his hip. He looked down at the ceiling and his lips moved side to side without rest. He looked up at Ryan and said, “It’s time, let’s go.”

“The hard part,” Ryan said. There was a silence between them, making the shuffling and moaning below seem louder.

“Ya?” Joe said, his impatience growing.

“It’s not having to fight them. Well, it is. But it’s not the real hard part. That is leaving Atlanta. When we get down there I’m still not sure if I’m going to follow you or if I’m heading home.”

“Ya? Why would you want to do something stupid like that?”

When Ryan didn’t answer, Joe readjusted his stance, clearly taken back by the silence. He let his arms fall to his side, and sympathy filled his face. “Whoever it is you think is there, they’re not anymore. You know that and I know that. They’re gone.”

Ryan had broken eye contact, looking away in attempt to control the tears. “I look down there,” he said, pointing over the edge, taking a step closer, “and I see faces, distorted with death and some kind of supernatural disease, but faces. And I know they’re dead, and they’re gone, and there’s nothing we can do. And I even know that whatever they are, zombies or whatever name we give them, Deborah is also. But somehow I can’t make the connection that Deborah is no longer human, is beyond saving. I’m still trying to save her.”

Joe held his gaze with Ryan. He nodded. “And if you try to not one of us is gonna blame you. But ask yourself, would this person want you to risk your life for no good reason, or would they want you to try to live, to find life again?”

The silence between them seemed like it would be short lived, like someone would say something profound to break it, but it lingered, and lingered, until Joe beckoned towards the stairs, Ryan nodded, and they both left the roof.

Back in the gun shop, Ryan flipped the light switch, but the light didn’t respond. He flipped the switch up and down, looking expectantly at the lights overhead, mouth agape like a child absorbed in cartoons.

“Fuck,” Roe said. “It’s already begun.” His voice sounded distant and out of control.

“What has?” Ryan asked, forgetting the light switch.

“The end of civilization,” Joe answered for his twin. Looking out the window at the crowded yet desolate street, Ryan found this difficult to argue against. This thought suddenly came: these streets were always crowded yet desolate. So was this the end or start of civilization? He shook this disturbing thought.

When Kyle spoke, unease was already spreading through the group. “Oh come on. Aren’t you being a little dramatic?”

“What’s wrong, preacher man?” Albert asked smugly. “Is this not in your story book?”

Ryan sighed. He didn’t want to hear their bickering right now.

Calm and collected, Kyle replied, “Yes, it is. I just never thought it would happen in this way.” The two men stared at each other in silence, not wanting to be the first to compromise their stance.

Seeking to unease the tension, Ryan broke the silence. His sudden words, directed at another cause, made the decision his conscious mind could never make, his heart could never make: “This just means we need to get the hell out of Atlanta as soon as we can.” He did, however, catch Joe nodding at him. He returned it.

So Ryan walked through the dark room, navigating through clothes racks guided by the sunlight streaming in through the front windows. From behind he heard clothes rustle in their racks as the others followed. Everyone found their packs sitting where they were left the night before and they equipped themselves. Next to the packs laid a collection of new items: the only three shotguns and a collection of shotgun shells. Ryan, Joe, and Roe picked up the shotguns, began loading, and placed the extra shells in their pockets. Earlier that morning, Joe had shown Ryan how to load and operate the weapon. Even though Ryan informed Joe that Kyle owned a shotgun, Joe had insisted that he partake in “the fun part” of his own plan. Ryan reviewed his early morning lessons now, hoping he was prepared.

Ryan turned to the other three, who stood by the back door. “You know what to do.” Albert and Kyle left the store, the sound of their steps echoing off the stairs. Ryan waited for their ready. According to the plan, Albert was sitting by a window that gave a clear view to the apartment entrance, and Kyle was standing at the top of the stairs, halfway between Albert and Ryan, ready to relay messages between the two groups.

“Yessa Masta,” Cam said. He began gathering water bottles, cliff bars, and other valuable items, before he would meet up with Albert.

“Are you ready,” the twins asked as they took their positions.

Ryan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had been so busy planning that he had taken no time to be afraid of what lay ahead. But now, about to be confronted with a horde of these devilish monsters again, fear ravaged him like fire. He forced a confident smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The three pointed their guns towards the gate and the shop window. Signs lining the windows portrayed the store hours and advertised once-in-a-lifetime deals on select merchandise. Simultaneously they pulled the triggers, and all of this was instantly destroyed. The glass shattered to pieces and crashed to the ground. Ryan’s ears rang due to the deafening sound, his shoulder sore from the kickback. The zombies staggered backwards from the spread of the shot, but made no attack. They fired again, and this time the zombies reacted. Their heads twitched, looking for the source of noise. Their bodies jerked awake, fully alert, just as if they were alive. Growls filled the street, and suddenly the zombies sprinted towards the gate.

Ryan was immobilized by fear. He tried to move, tried to pull the trigger, but he couldn’t. In each face of the undead, he saw his beloved Deborah staring back at him. Meanwhile the twins fired into the crowd, having a field day mowing down the zombies. The shots echoed loudly throughout the store. Above the racket, Ryan heard Kyle scream, “It’s working.” With each shot, heads exploded, spraying the charging zombies with a concoction of blood, brains, and decayed flesh.

Ryan shut his eyes to the horror, and when he opened them again, Deborah’s face was gone: he saw clearly. They no longer looked surprisingly human. With no immune system to protect them, they were quickly deteriorating. This hadn’t quenched their hunger for flesh, though.

The twins had to reload, leaving no one to stop the charging zombies. A group of the undead climbed through the window, screeching and growling, eyes glared intently ahead. Ryan felt as if they all stared at him, wanted to devour him, sought to make him into one of their kind.