Dead Beginnings (Vol. 1) (6 page)

              The man’s eyes fell to the weapon readied in his stubby hands. “Let me talk it over with the Missus.” He disappeared into the house and closed the door behind him. There came the distinct sound of a heavy deadbolt being locked.

              “You think they’re going to let us in?” Rowan whispered into Lonnie’s ear from behind him.

              No response.

Rowan straightened back up to his full-height, which was at least five inches taller than the stocky man in front of him.

Lonnie felt the weight of the towering shadow cast across his back. Would he have to do all the work while Rowan tagged along for a free ride? Would Lonnie have to be the brains and the brawn while Rowan hid behind him like a little girl? These questions made Lonnie’s insides burn.

              Both men flinched when the door was wretched open. They took a step back as the bearded old man took a brisk step out onto the porch. The barrel of a 12-gauge shotgun was pointed directly at Lonnie’s chest.

              “Bad news, boys. You’re not gonna find no shelter here.”

              Lonnie clutched the rifle harder to steady his wavering hands. He took a deep breath in through his nose and let it exhale from between his thin lips.

He couldn’t lose control.

“We don’t want any trouble, sir. We’ll just be on our way, then.”

              “You’re gonna have a hard time gettin’ around without that truck,” the man said through his thick, gray mustache, his lips barely moving, his puffy, wrinkled face stone cold stern. He held the end of the shotgun to his shoulder firmly with one hand while he extended the other out and flexed his fingers.

              Lonnie sighed. His shoulders sank and his head lolled slightly to one side.

              “Come on now, boy. I don’t got all day!”

              Lonnie’s blue eyes narrowed to thin slits.
Boy
. He never thought he’d have to hear that again. His mind raced while his face remained unflinching. What were the chances of him shooting the old fuck dead and them making it out of there alive? How many people were standing behind the door to back him up in case things went south? There were too many unknown variables. It was too big a risk.

Lonnie reached into his front pocket and handed the keys over.

              “Atta boy,” the old man’s mouth parted into a sparse, toothy grin. “Now get before I send you out there with nuttin’ to defend yerselves!”

              Lonnie stayed rooted and locked eyes with the old, decrepit man. He studied his face and memorized every groove in his weathered skin before he turned and walked down the stairs. He wasn’t planning to seek revenge, but if he ever saw that old fuck as one of those things, he wanted to make sure he was the one to take him down.

Rowan followed at Lonnie’s heels. He looked over his shoulder to watch the old man standing in the doorway with his gun still aimed at their backs. His spine tingled with an overpowering fear.

              ‘Stupid, fucking, piece of shit, old—” Lonnie grumbled as he stalked off down the dirt driveway again, leaving what little he had packed in his Army bag in the cab of the old blue Ford.

X.

              Rowan Brady drew the pistol Lonnie had given him and aimed it at the chest of a snarling, bloodied living nightmare as it drew closer with fumbling steps. Its dead eyes were locked onto his, its mouth already going through the motions of chewing as it prepared to sink its teeth into his firm muscles.

He wasn’t a good shot. No matter how many times his father took him out hunting with him, he was never able to hit his target, especially when it was moving. He closed his left eye and locked his elbows to steady his wavering arms. Sweat ran down the side of his thin face.

              Fifteen feet. The thing shuffled forward and raised its arms.

              Ten feet. It opened its mouth and let out a sickening garble that ended in a hiss.

              Five feet. Its arms were inches from Rowan’s throat.

              He took a step back from the dirtied female and squeezed his almond eyes shut. His fingers wanted so desperately to pull the trigger, but his heart wouldn’t allow it. Maybe he wasn’t meant to survive in such a horrifying world.

              A cold, hard hand brushed against his cheek. He took in a sharp breath and held it. Fingers streaked across his face as the thing let out a jolted, angry growl. Then came a thud.

When Rowan opened his eyes again he saw Lonnie Lands ontop of the monster while its jaws snapped at his tantalizingly close neck.

              “No guns,” Lonnie said between heaving breaths. “Only as a last resort.”

              He pinned the writhing creature’s arms down with his knees. It continued to thrash its body, even after the loud pop of its shoulders dislocating. Its ragged neck craned to try and take a bite out of Lonnie’s groin.

The stocky blonde didn’t flinch as the thing growled and snapped beneath him. Overwhelming confidence filled his senses until he beamed with it. He threw his head back and laughed at the sky, drowning out the sound of clacking teeth.

“Not today, bitch!” He pulled a pocket knife out and thrust it into its temple, rendering the monstrosity beneath him motionless, no longer a threat to him or anyone else left in the world. He pulled the knife out and wiped it on the bottom of his white tank top as he stared the thing in its sickening face.

This one wasn’t as damaged as the other ones. There were no visible signs of what made it the way it was. The face hadn’t yet turned pale and gray, the eyes still had a hint of green left in them as they only started the process of glazing over. Its spaghetti strap tank top and jean shorts were intact and barely stained. Its medium ginger hair remained braided on either side of its head. Lonnie studied it for another second, deciding whether it was Katie Gray from study hall freshman year or not. He couldn’t be sure.

When he stood up he noticed Rowan staring at him with a gaping mouth and wet eyes. “If you had pulled the trigger two things would of happened. One—that she-beast from hell would of sank her teeth right into ya. Wanna know why?”

Rowan didn’t give any indication that he heard a word Lonnie said. Tears continued to build up in his eyes until they spilled over the brim and down his tanned cheeks, one of which was streaked with the blood of the woman lying dead on the ground at his feet.

“Because you were aimin’ for the bitch’s chest. You gotta aim for their heads. Only way to take ‘em down. At least, that’s what I’ve found.” Lonnie paused to see if Rowan would acknowledge the wisdom he was imparting on him—a nod of the head, some word of agreement—but the man stood frozen like a deer in headlights. “And two, you shootin’ off that gun only woulda drew more of the fuckers out, no doubt. We woulda been surrounded and then we’d both been dead.”

Lonnie folded the knife in half and shoved it back into the pocket of his jeans. He stood with his hands on his hips, his shadow cast over the body on the ground. A dark stream of thick, black blood oozed out from the wound in its head.

Could it even be considered a woman anymore? He bent down and ran a hand over the cool skin on its exposed arm. There was no way she could be that cold if she’d only died a moment ago at Lonnie’s hands. She’d been dead to begin with. He picked up the arm and moved it around in his hands. When he bent it at the elbow, there was very little give and the joint cracked under the pressure, already in the throes of decay and rigor mortis. What the hell was she? It was like the goddamn zombie apocalypse finally decided to rear its ugly head, but why Chesterton, Indiana? How did it all start? Was the whole world suffering from it?

He leaned over and peeled back the woman’s lips to reveal her teeth. They didn’t look any different from any other person’s, except they were stained red with blood and there were pieces of human flesh caught in between a few of them.

“Careful!” Rowan said as he snapped out of his daze. He took a step toward Lonnie with his arms out. “Don’t touch her. She’s sick or something. You might catch it.”

“Relax, will ya?” Lonnie said as he stood up again.

Rowan’s eyes were focused, but his mind was elsewhere, trying to make sense of what just happened. Lonnie knew the look. He saw it countless times in boot camp during uniform inspections on the faces of scared boys who tried to answer questions while a Sergeant First Class was inches from their noses, staring them in the eyes.

“When I was at my post, all people could talk about was this new flu,” Lonnie said carefully. He left out the part about his post being training.

“That’s right. You’re in the Army, aren’t you? I remember you saying something about it last night.”

“Yeah. Anyway. This could be that.”

Rowan nodded his head and clenched his jaw together. “I really don’t see any other explanation. Does that mean we can get it without any contact with them? Is it airborne?”

Lonnie hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans and shrugged his shoulders, the AR-15 strap pulled tight against his chest as the rifle rested on his back. There was no telling how the shit spread or if they were already infected or not. Only time would tell. All Lonnie did know was that it wasn’t safe in the open. They had to find shelter, and fast. Once night fell it would be a whole new hunting ground. They would be sitting ducks waiting to be roasted for dinner.

“Let’s find somewhere to hide out, ride it out, and see how we’re feelin’ in the morning.” His voice was steady and strong, but inside doubt crept around inside.

His thick hands started to sweat at the thought of what could be waiting for them at the next house.

XI.

              The streets flooded with panic. Families ran for safety as the dead lumbered behind them, eager to sink their teeth into warm, tender flesh. Lonnie and Rowan crouched behind the thick trunk of a pine tree and watched it all unfold. The screams were unbearable to hear. Men, women, children, it didn’t matter to the mindless dead that were slowly taking over every inch of the lakeside town.

              One woman gripped the hand of her twelve-year-old daughter, dragging her along as they fled from their surrounded minivan. The girl kept screaming for her daddy and looking over her shoulder at the massive dogpile of feasting bodies. The mother turned around, just for a moment, and fell to the ground when she tripped over a body lying in the middle of the road. The little girl tried to help her up, but they’d already made too much noise. A hungry swarm was upon them in a matter of seconds.

              When the woman’s throat was ripped from her by blackened, dripping teeth, Lonnie stared, unable to look away. The arterial blood sprayed from the wound as the woman’s trembling hands clutched at the hole in her neck. Frenzied bodies threw themselves onto her as the little girl made a break for it.

Lonnie didn’t continue to watch to see if the girl made it to the shelter of the trees on the other side. It didn’t matter. She was alone. She was already dead.

              “We need to—” he started to say, but stopped when he saw Rowan huddled with his head down and his hands over his ears. He slapped the cowering man’s arms down and continued. “We need to find an empty house right now. Looks like everyone’s out in the streets so it shouldn’t be too hard to get into one.”

              “If the houses are safe, then why didn’t these people lock themselves inside?” Rowan pulled down on a branch to peek between the greens. He squeezed his eyes shut immediately and let the branch spring back into place.

              Lonnie sighed and rolled his eyes. “I can’t explain stupid. Let’s just go.”

They kept low as they made off away from the two lane highway and into the wooded area claimed by the Dunes State Park. Most of the homes built there had been bought out and demolished decades ago to preserve the scenic route. There were only a few select families who stood their ground and denied the government their property. Those were the safest places to lay low for a while, far enough away from the town that there would be less dead, sick, or whatever they were, to deal with.

              The sun was beginning to sink behind the towering line of thick trees, casting long shadows over the two men as they maneuvered the woods carefully. Every step they took made a muffled crunch over the bed of dead leaves and pine needles. There was no trail to follow since they were still outside the park’s entrance. They moved branches aside, stepped over fallen trunks, and kicked at the thick brush on the ground.

              “I know there’s a house just up here,” Lonnie said. He squinted his eyes to see further. “Let’s just hope the family’s already left it.”

Rowan nodded, but couldn’t bring himself to hope such a thing. All he could hope for was that whoever’s home it was, they were kind enough to let the two men in. He followed closely on Lonnie’s heels with the 9 mm gripped tightly in his long, slender fingers. With his elbows bent awkwardly acute, the magazine rest high on his chest just below his chin.