Darkest Days: A Southern Zombie Tale (34 page)

Bryant closed the magazine but held his place with a finger. “Why is that?” He asked in a half-interested, half-patronizing fashion.

“We’re already in Hell.” Silence filled the room. “Think about it! The dead just get up and walk. Not only that but they specifically kill humans. That’s not science; that’s divine mother fucking intervention!” The manic tone Rick used began to scare Bryant. “God is pissed off at mankind and wants to show us who’s the boss.”

“Tony Danza?” Bryant quipped not knowing how to deal with the raving teen on the other side of the door.

“You’re not listening. Dogs, cats, deer, they’re all fine. Those things aren’t eating each other. They don’t even attack dead bodies more than a few hours old. They only come after live humans. That’s more than instinct, that’s purpose. They know what they do! Just watch them.”

Bryant felt shivers traverse his spine. Could this madman be correct? Were they more than motorized savage instinct? Finally, he asked, “What all have you seen?”

“Dogs running around undisturbed. Actually, a little pug went bat-shit and attacked a zombie. The damn thing never even acknowledged the dog until it caused the corpse to trip. The zombie kicked at it but never tried to eat it. Then I saw one of those things standing in front of an arcade game pushing buttons. I even saw some of them sitting down in a semi-circle. Why would they do that? They just sat there looking at each other.” He lapsed into silence. The rant had finally scratched up his throat.

Bryant strained his ears and felt remorse for being a jailer. Inside the darkened closet, the tough young athlete sobbed into the blood-stained clothes from the room’s previous occupant. Bryant wanted to comfort him. For the moment, he only saw Rick as a scarred little boy.

***

Eric walked into the sanctuary where everyone, minus one guard, convened. “Our friend stopped answering his phone. When he missed a call, I tried his number. I let it ring twenty times, no response.” He paused and then resumed in his down-to-business tone. “I think he’s dead.”

Martin hung his head. “So much for other survivors.”

Stephanie looked up hopefully. “Anything on the news?”

Eric shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “Yes, a few people have phoned in reports that the dead are walking. The only people taking it seriously are the tabloids. Everyone else is treating it like that Orson Wells broadcast about aliens. Nobody wants to be had and look stupid if it’s a hoax.”

“Four days.” The priest sighed. “The death toll for this town is high. The only thing we can hope for is that people get organized early.”

Tommy walked through without speaking. Four days with no children to play with and surrounded by adults fully conscious of the hopeless situation had made him anti-social. The only time he spoke involved asking Bryant when they would continue the shooting lessons.

Bryant started to tell him “tomorrow” but decided fresh air and thinning out the growing crowd would make him feel productive. “Let’s go up now, Champ. Pretty soon you’ll be the best little sniper in the building.” He plastered a huge grin on his face and thought about the cheery affectation. “For the boy’s sake,” he mentally added.

Cara went up to the roof to see how things had progressed. Tommy squeezed off a shot, accompanied by the sound of a whip crack. She watched, hiding her presence, observing her lover in action. Just a few days ago, the idea of a man teaching a boy to shoot would have struck her as primitive and misogynistic. Now, she thanked God that someone here knew how.

When Bryant finally noticed her, he stood up and walked over. He kissed her as a greeting and invited her to participate. “I’m sure we could use all the best shots we can train.”

She leaned in and asked, “If you just sat here all day nailing them in the head, one shot equals one kill, how would we do?”

He lowered his head and whispered so Tommy could not hear. “After every bullet was spent, we’d still have an army outside.” He hugged her out of fear and she responded in kind. Locked in their embrace, each sensed the other’s desperation.

Soaking up all the love she could, Cara patted him on the shoulder and turned around. “I’m going back down. I’ll see you when you’ve called it a night.” She disappeared down the ladder and spared one glance back.

Bryant turned back to training the young one. “Okay, let me see that bad boy.” He took the gun from the child’s hands and set up for a shot. He touched his eye to the scope for a few warm-up shots. The crosshairs rested on what used to be his high school English teacher. Bryant remembered getting a “C” on his paper on the
Lord of the Flies
for not listing Simon as a representation of Christ. Despite the grade, he had fond memories of her and the book. Ka-Pow. The body dropped and he moved the cross to a new target.

The circle of vision the scope provided revealed a scene so disturbingly normal that Bryant performed a double-take. An adult male, deceased of course, sat leaning against a tree. An adult female sat beside him with a dead hand resting on his thigh. Bryant’s view faded and reappeared as a resurrected grade-school boy stepped in front of his sight. The child approached the pair and sat down in the female’s lap. Slowly, the dead creature wrapped its arms around the adult’s torso and rested its pale head on her chest. The trio remained motionless as if posing for a family portrait. Bryant felt shudders along his entire body. The scene below felt significant, but he did not know why.

“Is it my turn?” Tommy asked.

“Oh yeah.” He had forgotten the little boy wanting to learn how to defend himself. He began his instruction, but the dead family resting under the tree would not leave his mind. Everything seemed to turn on itself. The idea of pure instinct now had a challenger.

***

Everyone ate in the dining room on the bottom floor. Rick joined them but Martin volunteered to keep the shotgun trained on the captive while he was out of his cage. Each of them thought that the portions had diminished, but only Tommy spoke. “This isn’t as much as usual.”

Eric hesitated before answering. “Eight people eat a lot of food. We need to start rationing.”

Stephanie cried out, unable to restrain herself. “This is hopeless. We should kill ourselves and save those things the trouble. If we go outside, we’ll get eaten. If we stay in here, we’ll starve. What a choice!”

“No, no no! Just shut up!” The priest suddenly stood up, shouting down at all those still seated. “People, do not give up! When you think of every great story, it focuses on people overcoming odds. It takes willfulness and strength of character to forge your own destiny! I do not plan on sitting here and wasting away, nor do I plan on letting those abominations devour me. I plan on surviving. Not only that, I plan on really living. I will be cautious, not fearful. I will be brave, not foolhardy. Most of all, I will drag every one of you kicking and screaming to safety with me if you do not feel inclined to come.”

Rick countered with a sarcastic sneer. “Nice speech, padre. How do we find a safe place?”

“If we break out and find a place that has not progressed as far as this, we can stock pile several years worth of food and ammunition. We can find better conditions, and warn people. An army of soldiers could easily crush these dim-witted creatures.”

“Okay. How do we get out of the building? Those things aren’t leaving a square inch uncovered.” Rick retorted.

“That will require some planning, but I’m sure that we are up to the task.” The priest sat down, feeling self-conscious now that his passion had subsided. “I hope you all agree with my sentiments and will help me plan an escape.” He continued eating his meager meal in silence.

Tommy looked at Cara and asked, “Are we really leaving?” His eyes contained a hopeful wonder.

Cara stroked his hair. “Not yet, but finish eating your canned meat slop. You’ve got to be at full strength.” Tommy shoveled another fork full into his mouth and made exaggerated chewing motions.

Eric nodded. “After dinner, we can start planning. Right now, let’s get the meal out of the way so we can concentrate.”

Everyone responded by collecting the dishes and placing them in the sink. Rick went back to his closet, but the meeting did not change location. If the captive had an idea, they might use it. Eric stood while everyone else sat. He marched around the table like a general trying to appear authoritative.

“What we need to do is decide on a location first and then figure out the ideal way to get there.” He began.

Bryant interrupted. “Actually, I have some information that we might need to discuss. It might affect the outlook we have on the trip.”

Eric flustered. The teenager tried to steal his thunder. “What earth-shattering news might you have for us?”

“Well, on the roof earlier today, I saw a family of zombies. I mean, as in an actual social unit. A mother, father, and son acted as a group. It wasn’t anything impressive but it made me stop and think.” Bryant paused, letting the new info sink in. Hopefully, one of them would come to the same conclusion on his or her own. “The child displayed affection toward both adults. Also, whenever they moved, they moved together.”

Father O’Brien clutched the shotgun and watched the door. He knew what Bryant hinted at. He spoke up trying to drown out the doctor’s muttering. “You think that they are remembering more than we have given them credit for.”

Cara voiced her opinion as soon as that thought came out into the open. “Anthropologically, the behavior is typical. When not foraging for food, idle time with family or members of your tribe would be the norm.”

Bryant tried to refute it. “They are learning, if not learning, then accessing more memories, not just instinct. They were once human and still are in some respects. The knowledge some of them may have is dangerous.”

The priest spoke in a low voice, almost to himself. “They are more like us than we would like to admit. How basic is the concept of a gun? Even a small child knows how to grip one and fire. What about a car? Driving is so second nature to us. One of them could start a car and slam it into the building.”

Eric almost jumped while shouting. “Listen, I ran a mile through the middle of those things. With the smarts of a dumb dog, they could have caught me. Ramming a car to get inside requires too many logical steps. It’s pointless to worry about anything like that.”

Cara sighed. “Brains don’t work that way. When you’re excited or stressed, you forget. In moments of inactivity, the brain is relaxed and free with information. It’s like an answer coming to you after you’ve stopped thinking about the question.”

Eric snidely remarked. “I am a doctor, little girl.”

Cara looked at Martin and Stephanie but they both looked away. “They don’t want to get involved” she thought.

Bryant added. “The ones I saw were not chasing food. They were sitting there, inert.”

A voice from the closet snapped at them. “They remember. I’ve seen it before you locked me in here. We need to leave or they’ll find a way in eventually.”

Martin shouted through the door. “Shut up you sick fuck! You just want us outside so you can try to escape.”

Stephanie grabbed his arm. “Let’s go. This arguing isn’t helping.” She led him upstairs, out of the reach of his stressor.

The priest shook his head. “We can’t act this way or we’ll die. We need solidarity”

Eric flicked his finger at Bryant. “We were talking about escape until lover-boy changed the subject.” He stepped through the doorway, disappearing.

Bryant patted Cara on her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “You know I’m right. They’re going to become more dangerous.” She kissed him, otherwise not responding.

They reached no escape plan and no consensus.

***

That night, everyone gathered to watch the newscast. As soon as the screen flickered on, a grave voice continued with a breaking story. “Riots shook Washington D.C. Large groups of people took to the streets trying to flee the city as the carnage spread through the city. Officials said that they have no explanation for the apparent mass homicides but are confident that it will only be a matter of time before they have the situation back under control. Police are encouraging people to stay indoors.”

The assemblage groaned in disappointment.

“Casualties so far are unknown. Some people are claiming that the attackers are carrying the dead off with them. Other eyewitnesses say that they are eating the bodies. As of now, no city or state organization has commented on such outlandish claims. All that is known is that, so far, police and the National Guard have failed to quell the riots.”

Eric kicked the desk and cried out. “Why bother running? There’s nowhere to go!”

The priest leapt to his feet. “We are trying to assess the situation. As always, knowledge is power. So, be silent!”

The television continued, oblivious to the interruption. “ . . .It is true, as incredible as it seems, the man had no heart beat or respiration.” The interviewer held out a microphone for a man in a white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a tie hanging loosely around his neck. “However, we did pick up some brain wave activity. The man’s eyes reflex to light conditions and other stimuli. We have taken blood samples which we are still thoroughly examining. We are not ruling out a disease or foreign agents, for example a new kind of biological or chemical weapon.”

The TV spewed out more hopeless drivel than they could handle. Eric switched the set off with a hard twist of the ancient knob on the right hand side of the set. “It just keeps getting better.” Everyone disbanded for the night, hoping that things would look better in the morning.

Eight hours of sleep should have helped alleviate some of the hopelessness, but the morning broadcast waited for them with worse news. Eric turned on the idiot box and saw coverage of more riots. In one night of sleep, New York City, Los Angeles, Atlanta, Seattle, Dallas, Detroit, Philadelphia, and just about every major city in the United States had experienced the same thing as Washington had. A haggard reporter stood on a non-descript roadside talking into the camera. “The president has been safely moved but officials are not saying where he is. All that is known is that the mob broke through Whitehouse security, leaving chaos in their wake. I think it is safe to say that the nation’s capitol is now a war zone.” The shot cut to aerial footage of masses of people choking the streets. A line of men in camo began firing, but the horde continued to move forward.