Orpheus Born (2 page)

I was going to say, "A run at who?" when I saw a look of horror come over Dave's face. I looked over my shoulder, and a cop had just walked in. Dave rabbited for the fire exit. I yelled after him and ran into the alley where we'd started, but he was gone. I walked back in and the cop asked, "Friend of yours?"

"No, just doing a good deed." I covered the dog tags with a napkin as subtly as I could. Some of Dave's paranoia had rubbed off on me, I guess.

"Right."

I half-expected him to pepper me with questions about what we were talking about, maybe even arrest me, but all he did was ask if I knew who drove the Cutlass outside, because it had a flat tire.



The rest of the day I wondered what the Hell to do with that story that Dave had told me. I decided there were only two possibilities. If he was telling the truth, which I doubted, I’d only serve to expose myself to the kind of people that would leave
a team of people to get eaten alive.

The other, more likely, possibility, was that Dave had been driven insane by whatever had really happened. If that was the case, and I not only let myself believe that but passed it on, I’d have taken a big step toward becoming just like him. I’d seen a lot of bad shit during my time in uniform, and I always felt lucky to have escaped it relatively unscathed, both physically and psychologically. However, I’d be lying through my teeth if I told you that there’s not a fine line between Dave and me.

I finished whatever errand I was on, hopped in my car, and drove home by the most indirect route I could think of. I chewed over what he’d told me some more. I’d seen people hopped up on all sorts of chemicals take obscene amounts of punishment and keep coming, but that’s only because their bodies weren’t getting the signals telling them how badly they were damaged. In the end, they just dropped like everyone else.

The dead walking around? That was flat-out nuts.

By the time I got home, I knew the right thing to do: I kept my mouth shut. I’d actually convinced myself it was the only thing to do, because to look at it otherwise wasn’t a step worth taking for me. I don’t think I thought I was fooling myself then. I truly believed that I could dismiss Dave’s story as the ramblings of a paranoid, fractured mind.

I’d seen it dozens of times before; I didn’t want to become one of them.

When Jackie asked how my trip to town was, I told her, “Nothing special” and left it at that.

Until that night in August, when what Dave had told me not only came flooding back, but it probably saved my life.

--------------------

I could have taken Jackie to town, but it just made more sense to let Ethan do it. The stuff around the house wasn’t going to fix itself. If I’m being completely honest, I was looking forward to a little alone time, too. One of the secrets to a happy marriage is giving each other some space on occasion.

I still don’t know if that’s selfish or unselfish.

Ethan took her to town, and that was the last I’ve seen of either of them.

I wonder how different things would have been if I’d just gone.

For one thing, I wouldn’t have had to slaughter a bunch of my neighbors.

----------------------

I remember every detail of the last normal day. Every goddamn detail.

My family hadn’t been gone for thirty minutes when Glenn crossed the street.

“You coming, neighbor?”

“Coming where?”

“Dude, do you
ever
remember the date of my gigantic mega-bash cookouts? Every time I see that same clueless look on your face.”

I couldn’t deny it. I’d forgotten it again. “Let me get cleaned up. I’ll be over in a few.”

“Hurry up. Ribs are on, beer’s cold, and my daughter’s friends from college are about to go swimming.”

I laughed. Glenn pretended to be lecherous, but it was his way of dealing with his recent painful divorce. “It’s the little things that make life worth living, eh?”

“I’ll drink to that, among other things.”

I was actually pretty excited to head over to his house. He always had great food and drinks, I liked most of his friends, and the pool was always tempting. I almost felt guilty about abandoning my projects, but Ethan was doing his thing with Rachel, Jackie was getting pampered … so why not?

I headed back inside, jumped in the shower, and threw on a decent shirt. I grabbed a six-pack of Sam Adams from the fridge and headed across the street. By the time I got there, the party was in full swing. From what I could tell, the entire neighborhood was there. Adults, kids, a few dogs. The music was pumping, the smells off the grill made my mouth water. I set one beer aside and cleared a spot in the cooler for the rest.

I looked for the churchkey, then I heard a sweet voice behind me. "Looking for this, Mr. Holt?"

I turned around and saw one of Glenn's daughter's friends. She wiggled the churchkey back and forth flirtatiously while I pretended to not struggle to remember her name.

She said, "I'll trade you for a beer." She must have seen the look on my face, because she added, "I turned 21 last week."

Her name popped into my head. Marcy. I reached back into the cooler. I popped the tops off of both, handed her one, and clinked my bottle against hers in a toast. "Happy birthday."

She took a long, slow pull off of her beer, and suddenly I wished I was somewhere else. I was rescued by the unlikeliest of sources: a vomiting girl. Marcy gasped. "Janine!"

I got to her first and caught her before she collapsed. Marcy pulled up the closest chair and I dumped Janine into it. Her head fell forward. I originally though she'd had too much to drink, so I grabbed her chin and lifted her face so I could get a better look. She had a terrified look in her eye, and I was on edge.

I looked around and the scene replayed itself with a half-dozen other people. People crumpled to the ground, a few fell in the pool. Concerned cries filled the air. I looked back to Janine. She was shivering, and I couldn't figure out what to do or say.

I watched the light go out in her eyes.

Just like that. Dead.

I positioned myself to give her CPR, but before I could start, the light was replaced by something else. Something sinister. I'd swear to it. She began to get to her feet.

Lieutenant Dave McMillan's words came back to me:
Don't let them bite you.

I jumped back and instinctively put Marcy behind me. I felt her hand on my shoulder and heard her screaming for her friend, but she let herself be guided, thank God.

Then the shit really hit the fan.

People who only moments before were celebrating whatever the occasion for the party was now attacked the person closest to them. Glenn himself was the first to die; the guy who owned the local landscaping business tore his throat out with his teeth.

I've seen people die before, but that was in combat. This was just a slaughter. A living nightmare.

I wanted to help people, I really did, but everything happened too fast. A few people got away, but by the time my inertia broke, most everyone was dead, and some were getting back up. They all had one common goal: me and Marcy.

I grabbed her by the hand and we hauled ass across the street, those things hot on our heels. I blasted through the front door, practically threw her into the living room, and hit the deadbolt just as some bodies hit it hard enough to make it shudder in its frame.

"Omigod, omigod," was all Marcy could say.

The poor kid was scared shitless, but I didn't have time to baby her. "Hey! HEY! If you want to live, listen up! Help me find my fucking keys!"

She snapped to. "Wh-what do they look like?"

I tore apart the room looking for some weapons. The things were trying to get in, but fortunately they were all still at the front. The back door looked clear. "They look like keys! Five keys on a metal d-ring! Check the coffee table!"

She started throwing stuff aside. "They're not here!"

"Shit!" Without the keys, we were as good as dead.

“Keep looking!” Then I remembered that I’d moved the truck before playing ball with Ethan, so the keys were in my truck. I was pretty sure. Well, if I guessed wrong, I wouldn’t have much time to feel stupid. “Wait, forget the keys. Go into that closet and cover yourself up!”

She looked down at her revealing top. “What are you, my Dad?”

“Are you kidding me? Cover up so those things don’t bite you!”

“Why would they bite me?”

I had no time to explain, so I settled for, “Biting’s bad! Trust me!” That seemed to convince her, and she threw on a fleece jacket. She threw on a pair of sweat pants, too. I put on a filthy flannel shirt and a pair of rawhide work gloves. I patted my pants pocket and made sure that me cell phone came with us.

The only suitable weapon I could find was a souvenir baseball bat from some minor league giveaway years ago. Still … it was a baseball bat, and it felt good in my hands.

I told her my plan to get to the truck, and I thought she was going to faint. “You’re going to let them in?”

“If we want to have any chance of getting to my truck, we have to. When I say the word, you throw the front door open and haul ass out the back.” The door wasn’t going to last much longer. If we waited long enough, they’d just get in on their own, anyway, but I needed to control them as much as I could. If we waited too long and a few wandered into the back yard, it was over.

She gamely walked to the front and put her hand on the handle. She engaged the metal door latch; I'd installed it after Ethan had grown tall enough to open the door and wander out into the front yard one day. It would only hold for a few seconds, but that's all we would need. She looked back at me. She was terrified. I didn’t need to see the tears to figure that out.

I tried to reassure her. “Listen to me; I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I still owe you that birthday beer, and I always pay up.”

That actually elicited a little smile. “R-ready.”

The cacophony from outside almost drowned her out. It felt like we were the only people left alive in the neighborhood. Sadly, that might have actually been the case. I cracked the back door and made sure we were alone. That was good, but we wouldn’t be for long.

“Keep quiet.” I readjusted my grip on the bat. “Go!”

I don’t know how fast she was under normal circumstances, but fear made her move like lightning. She was out the back door by the time the first … thing … ripped the latch away from the frame and came through the front. I stepped out, closed the back door, and huddled in a blind corner with Marcy. I chanced a look into my living room.  They quickly filled it, and I was pretty sure that I’d never see my home again. Five seconds ago, all they’d wanted was to get in. Now, they couldn’t get out.

Marcy slipped her hand into mine. I whispered, “Good job, great job.”

“How many of those things are there?”

“I don’t know. The only thing that matters is how many are between us and the truck.” We slipped along the back wall to the corner of the house. I tried to pull my hand out of hers, but she held it in a vice grip. “Marcy, I need it to…”

“To what?”

I looked around the corner. I saw what I hoped was a manageable number of things. “To fight.”

“Oh, God.”

“Listen to me. Your job is to get in that truck and start it up. You stay on my hip until you see a clear path. You keep your distance and dodge your ass off. Leave the fighting to me. Understand?”

She nodded rapidly.

“And if … you know … take off. Don’t wait.”

“No way. You’ll make it.”

“Just in case.”

I rounded the corner and went after the closest one. It was just good sense that made me go for the head; that’s always been where you can do the most damage. I got off a solid hit and the thing’s head bounced off of my house, but it didn’t go down. It turned to face me. A mask of blood already covered half of its face. I swung again and destroyed the other side of its head. This time it went down. 

I told Marcy to follow as I jogged along the front of the house, swinging as I went. I managed to shut the living room door, effectively giving up my home to cage as many of those things as I could.

They closed on me, but I knew the terrain like the back of my hand and used it to my advantage. I ran wide of them and into a copse of trees and drew them to me. I kept moving, using my relative agility to keep them away. They were idiots … they tried to run through the trees I was behind, rather than around them … but they were also relentless, and there was a lot more of them than there were of me. It was only a matter of time before they surrounded me.

Marcy proved she wasn’t a stupid girl. She sprinted to the truck at the ideal time and got behind the wheel. I experienced a moment of panic then, because all of a sudden I was sure that I’d left the keys in my other pants. I knew it for a fact.