Phase One: Identify (Territory of the Dead) (3 page)

Jayden cried out in agony, all but collapsing in front of us. “No, Erin,” he cried out quietly, sobbing in grief. Her screams stopped as blood gurgled up from her throat and down her chin. Her eyes were wide open and unseeing, her body still. Erin was gone.

His mom began to follow the same pattern, viciously twitching on the ground. It would only be seconds before she, too, was looking for her first victim. “Let's go, now,” Dad bit out, grabbing Jayden by the arm. “There is nothing we can do for them, son.”

Jayden's mind was completely lost in grief. Dad handed the rifle to my mom, and pulled Jayden to him. Wrapping an arm around him, he supported his body as we started back down the driveway. It was slow going for the two men. As much as I love my dad, he is not athletically inclined.

In shock and horror, we'd forgotten one very important fact, though. I'm thankful Mom didn't. If she had, there is no telling how the night would have ended. Time seemed to slow the moment she stopped walking.

Mom stopped and looked back at them, before quickly raising the rifle to her shoulder. Before anyone could move, she pulled the trigger. Jayden's dad fell to the ground only feet away, blood streaming from the bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. He'd been that close.

Chapter 2

I stared in horror at the lifeless body of Mr. Hampton. He was definitely dead this time. My mom gasped, her thin body trembling in reaction.

She looked as if she could fall apart at any time, but my dad wouldn't let her. With one arm still supporting Jayden, he said roughly, “Hold it together, Beth. This isn't the time to fall apart.” Jayden didn't bother to turn to look. He was traumatized enough, and barely holding it together as it was.

My mom handed the rifle to me. Her hands were shaking so badly I had no choice but to take it. It felt extremely heavy in my hands, and it wasn't a pleasant sensation. I wanted anyone but me to have to hold it, but there was nobody else to take it.

The truth was, I wasn't much on guns. I'd never held one before, and certainly didn't know how to properly use it. My knowledge didn't extend beyond pointing and pulling the trigger. I shivered with revulsion at the thought. I couldn't imagine being the person to end a life.

“Tabs, help your mother,” Dad hissed out, moving down the sidewalk with Jayden. I could understand his urgency. We were standing out in the dark, with the world going to hell all around us. If we weren't extremely careful, we'd find ourselves going down with it. 

The silence of the night was gone. In the distance, I could see a fire lighting up the sky somewhere near Main Street. There were screams, mixed in with the occasional sounds of shouting and gunfire. It was loud, it was painful to hear, but it was reality. Our reality.

As I followed my father with my arms wrapped around my mother's distraught body, I felt momentarily happy. It was an odd emotion to have considering the circumstances, but I was glad to hear the sounds of shooting and yelling. It let me know that there were still others alive.

Silence was not good. The noise told me that there were still people out there fighting, attempting to stop these nightmarish events. If the wold grew completely quiet, there would be no more hope. It would mean that everyone around us was dead, walking but no longer living. That spark inside of us that makes us human would be blotted out forever, with nothing but darkness and a taste for flesh left behind.

I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that silence would mean the end of humanity. 

We made it up the steps and into the house. Dad glared at me over his shoulder as the doorknob turned easily, but I just shrugged. What did he expect me to do? There was no way I'd walk out and not leave a way to get back in fast.

He led Jayden to the recliner and helped him into it, before turning on the table lamp. Jayden's eyes were wide and unblinking, but tears were slowly trailing down his cheeks. I felt sad and helpless inside, and I didn't know what to say to make it better. Nothing that entered into my mind felt quite right.

Dad went back and locked the door, before taking the gun from my numb fingers. I released it with a big sigh and sat down on the couch. “Let's see if the news is on,” I suggested quietly. I was desperate to see and hear what was going on out there, in the areas we couldn't see.

My mom walked quietly to the other recliner and sank down into it. I was happy to see that some of the color was returning to her cheeks, and she was starting to actually blink again. Somewhere in her mind, she must have put the events in the proper place. Mom was like that. She could be counted on to always have a quick rebound.

Dad pulled the heavy draperies together, and grabbed the remote from the table before sitting down next to me. I was relieved to see a face come on the TV when he turned it on. Secretly I'd been worried it wouldn't work, and we'd be completely cut off from the rest of the world.

A reporter I hadn't seen before was at our local police station, and it was frantic with activity. Here in Pleasant we weren't the largest of cities, so I wondered where all the people had come from. Then I realized they weren't police officers. These were residents, looking for protection.

The reporter looked to be somewhere around his early 30's. His handsome face was pale and drawn, his expression frantic. It was soon apparent he wasn't working from any type of script, as he addressed the viewers that were watching. “The police department is urging residents to stay inside and lock your doors, and stay away from what people are classifying as zombies.”

Somebody cried out loudly in the background, but the reporter continued, “Police have no idea what what the death toll is. Numerous attacks have been reported. Do not get close to anyone that appears to be injured in anyway.”

A woman moved in front of the camera, pushing the reporter out of the way with her body, before grabbing the microphone from his slack grip. Her face was pale, but her dark eyes were filled with determination as she stared into the lens. She got right to the point.

“Don't let this reporter sugarcoat this with his evasions. There are dead people walking out there, and they are fast, deadly, and supernaturally strong. There is a name for them, one we've heard before but thought was only fiction. These dead people are zombies, and they don't care about nothing but getting their teeth into your flesh.”

The reporter tried to grab the microphone back, but she shot him a deadly look. “You're not getting this till I'm done,” she told him in a firm voice. “I'm not gonna stand by while you get your five seconds of fame and leave these innocent people out there to die. People deserve to know what they are up against, and how to protect themselves. Now back off.” Surprisingly, he stood still and listened.

She turned back to the camera. “I know there are some of you out there that don't believe in this. You wanna box it all up, neat and tidy-like, and believe that there must be some rational explanation for this, and come morning it will all be gone. If you believe that though, you're going to find yourself dead before the sun ever hits the sky tomorrow.”

She leaned into the camera, and I felt as if she were talking directly to me. “For those of you that want to live though, listen and listen well. These zombies aren't the slow, dumb creatures we have all seen on film. These zombies are fast, faster than we are. The more they eat, the stronger they seem to get. The ones I have seen tonight have red eyes as well. The only way to kill them is by shooting them in the head or cutting their head off.”

“I object to that,” the reporter broke in, his voice loud enough for us to hear him. He shook his head at the woman, his expression angry. “I simply can't tolerate you suggesting to viewers to go out and murder these people. We don't know what's wrong with them, maybe they are just ill.”

She looked back at him in disbelief. “So how many people have you ate the last time you felt ill, Mr. big time, know-it-all reporter? I'll tell you what. Since you're so concerned with saving the zombies that wouldn't think twice about killing you, why don't you go out there and show us what you've got? I'm sure your cameraman here would be only to happy to film you through the window when you become dinner.”

The reporter smirked at her before eying her with disdain. “What makes you such an expert?”

She ignored him, turning her attention back to the viewers. “If you're still alive and hearing this, I beg you to listen. I've never seen anything like this before. Tonight I lost my whole family to these animals. If you want to stay alive, be cautious.

Don't go out unarmed, and don't go out alone. If it's safe, try to make it to the police station. These zombies are everywhere now, and I guarantee the dead are outnumbering the living. Try to not join their ranks.”

She turned back to the reporter, holding out the microphone. “I'm not an expert, I'm a survivor. I hope you can learn how to be one yourself.”

With that, she turned and walked away.

The reporter came back on, but dad turned it down low. “My God,” he said, looking at us. “It's a nightmare.”

“Dad, do you think we should try to go to the station?”

He was thoughtful for a moment, and then looked at Jayden before shaking his head. Jayden was still spaced out. I couldn't say for sure he even knew where he was at. It was scary how silent and unaware he really was.

“No, at least not tonight,” Dad finally replied. “Not with Jayden like this. There are to many variables that could happen on the way there. What if our car happened to just break down, or what if we got a flat tire? Here, we are safe. We have plenty of food, the news, and our cell phones. Let's wait and see what happens with all of this tomorrow and go from there.”

I nodded. What he said made sense. Truth be told, I wasn't eager to go back out, although there would be safety in the numbers found at the police station.

He turned to Jayden. “Son, I know you've went through a terrible tragedy tonight. I can't imagine what you're going through, or how much pain you must be in right now. We are here for you though, in anyway you need us. Just tell us what to do.”

Jayden didn't respond to him, but my dad didn't seem to expect him to. My mom got up and came back with a blanket, placing it across his legs. Dad popped out the foot rest on the recliner, which was his favorite part of the seat. “You just rest.”

He turned away from Jayden, his expression weary as he looked at us. “All of us are going to bed down in here tonight. I don't want us separated, and we need to be where we can see the news at all times. There's enough room for all of us.”

Our living room was fairly large. It was decided that Dad would take the other recliner, while Mom and I slept on the sofa bed. Although I'm officially an adult now, I have to admit it was comforting to know they were right here in the same room. After all I'd seen, I really didn't want to be alone.

We made up the sofa bed and laid down, Mom turning the lamp off next to her. The newscaster was still on, but didn't seem to have anything new to report. His voice was simply a low background noise, a horrific reminder of how brutally my entire world had changed.

Within a few minutes, my dad started to snore gently in the recliner. I peeked over at Jayden. His eyes were closed as well, but I couldn't say if he were asleep or not. Mom's breathing grew slow and even. I marveled at how easily my parents slept during a time like this.

My thoughts went to the people I knew in this town. I wondered how my best friend Amanda was taking it, and I wished I had my cell phone. If I did, I would try to call. Was she even still alive? It was a sobering thought.

Amanda and I had been best friends basically our whole lives. In some ways, she was my complete opposite. She was studious and reliable, with plans for her future. She wanted to be a doctor, and was determined to save the world. While I was relieved to not start college this fall, she was eagerly counting the days until she could.

I wanted to cry at the very real possibility that she was dead. With a heavy heart, I eventually grew tired enough to close my eyes. Sleep took an impossibly long time coming that night.