Revenence: Dead of Winter: A Zombie Novel (23 page)

     Shari dismounted, aiming her bow and nocking an arrow.  She set her sight on a slightly less decomposed zombie, letting the arrow fly as she exhaled.  She watched it crumple, setting her sight on the next one.  It was less than two minutes before she and Daphne had eliminated the vast majority of undead that were visible, leaving only two standing. 

     Shari strode toward the far side of the buiding to see how many were left, swinging her bow onto her back to instead wield her drywall hammer.  She swung the hatchet-bladed end into the open mouth of a reeking female zombie who boldly gnashed her teeth as she approached.  The blade sunk into the back of the throat, through the medula oblongata, and exited the back of the head at the base of the skull.  Shari grunted, wrenching the blade free from the woman's mouth, and continued toward the next one.  Daphne, however, beat her to it, sneaking up from behind it as it focused on Shari.  Daphne ran her titanium knife blade over the back of the zombie's neck, severing its spinal cord thoroughly with the gut hook at the tip. 

     They crept around to see behind the far side of the building.  Shari raised her bow, counting eight undead to clear.  She killed the first one, gaining the attention of the others.  Daphne ducked away into the shadows, ready to use her blade and her stealth, while Shari worked with her bow. 

     Daphne jammed her blade upward into the back of an undead female's skull, her fist obscured by the long, filthy hair hanging in greasy strands down to the woman's waist.  She pulled the knife free, moving on to the next one.

     The pair expediently completed their task, having cleared all of the undead roaming the grounds.

     "You've got something on you," Shari told Daphne, pointing to the leg of her dirtbike suit.

     Daphne looked down, noting the strands of long, stringy hair stuck to her leg.  Her gaze followed the strands to their roots, where they were still attached to a chunk of scalp from the undead woman she had just rekilled.

     "Yuck," Daphne said, flicking the gore to the ground with the tip of her knife. 

     The two of them started back to inform the group that the immediate area was clear when they heard the squeak of a door swinging open from the outbuilding.

     "Jesus," Shari said, reaching for her bow, "here we go again."  She froze when she saw who had opened the door.  It was an elderly man of perhaps seventy-five, not undead, holding up his hands to signify his lack of aggression.

     "Don't shoot," he said.  "I promise you, I ain't one of them.  I've never been bit.  I pose no threat to you folks."

     Shari withdrew her hand from her bow, approaching the outbuilding cautiously .  "You alone in there?" she asked.

     "Yes, ma'am," the man said.  "My name's Elmer, Elmer Neumann.  I've been stuck in that building for two days with no working plumbing and only a 20-ounce bottle of water.  My wife's probably having a conniption fit right about now, thinking I'm dead."  He let out a chuckle.  "Thought I
was
as good as dead.  Was starting to get loopy from the dehydration."

     "Follow us," Shari told him.  "We have some water we can spare."

     "I thank you, miss," Elmer said as they started toward the rest of the group.  "Miss, uh--what was your name?"

     "I'm Shari, and this is Daphne.  You live around here, Elmer?"

     "About a half-mile north," he said.  "Just up the road, right before you hit U.S. 24.  I was here looking for my nephew when I got surrounded by those ghouls.  You folks headed north?"

     "Actually," Shari said, "we were hoping to find a plane."  They reached the group and Shari handed Elmer a bottle of water.

     "Thank you, ma'am," Elmer said, tilting the bottle back and guzzling more than half of its contents.  "So you folks are looking for a plane, huh?  Where you headed?"

     "Chicago," Shari said.  "We heard on the radio that they have a pretty big group of people up there, holed up in McCormick Place."

     "Ah, McCormick Place," Elmer said.  "That's right on the lake, I believe?"

     "Yeah, I think so," Shari said.  "I remember going to some kind of art convention with my mom, and I recall the place being pretty big.  They could easily have thousands of people living in there.  That's why we wanted to check it out.  Daphne and me, we came all the way from Kentucky, and...well, there really aren't a lot of people left."

     Elmer nodded.  "That's what the missus and me have been suspecting," he said, "although this is the first time either of us have left the house since it all started.  We got no power, but the well water and septic are still in order.  We've gotten used to using candles at night and doing the wash by hand.  We eat mostly canned food and vegetables from the garden.  Like I mentioned, only reason I left is because the missus is worried to death about her nephew, who was last seen in his cropduster."  He paused, looking out over the flat, deserted landscape.  "Personally, though, I'm not holding out much hope for him."

     "Is it just you and your wife?" Phoebe asked.

     "Us and our son," Elmer said.  "Four and a half months ago, we had a college-educated son just shy of forty, moved back in with us seemingly to stay.  At the time, we couldn't help but wonder where he--or we--went wrong.  Now, though," he concluded, his voice cracking, "we realize it was a blessing in disguise, 'cause we still have our boy."
     "That's a lot to be grateful for," Shari agreed. 

     "This little guy belong to any of you?" Elmer asked, patting Finn's helmeted head.

     Shari shook her head, her expression solemn. 

     Elmer nodded.  "The young have a heavy weight on their shoulders, don't they?" he muttered.  "God bless your heart, young man."

     "We're hoping the convention center will be good for him," Shari said.  "None of us are parents, so we were hoping that there would be someone there with a little more experience with kids."

     "There might even be other kids to play with," Finn informed Elmer.

     "I'll keep my fingers crossed for you," Elmer said.  "Seeing little ones like this...."  He paused as his eyes clouded over with tears.  "It's something I didn't think I'd ever see again."

     "I know what you mean," Shari said.  "I've come a long way, and I've only seen a few kids."

     "Now speaking of planes," Elmer said, "which one of you is the pilot?"

     "That would be me," the Professor said.

     "What kind of plane is it you're hoping to find?" Elmer asked.

     The Professor shrugged.  "Whatever we can get started, with enough fuel to get us across those hundred miles or so.  We're not planning on getting that lucky, just hoping.  When we saw the sign for the airport, we figured it would be worth a look."

     "Well," Elmer said, "as luck would have it, I happen to know where there's a Cessna pontoon."

     "That would be perfect," the Professor said.  "Is it here at the airport?"

     Elmer nodded, pointing.  "He left it right there on the runway," he said.  "My neighbor, that is.  The second day into this infernal shitstorm, I heard a plane flying overhead.  I go to look out my window, and I see it's my neighbor in his plane, heading south and coming in for a landing.  It was probably...oh, about five minutes later when I saw him come racing down 52 in his truck, and he turns into his driveway and comes to a screeching halt, almost hit his own house.  Even from my living room, I could see he was pretty bloodied.  A few minutes later, we heard his wife screaming.  There were two gunshots, and that's the last we ever heard from that house."

     "That's too bad," Hugo said.

     "Yeah," Elmer said, leaning in toward Hugo to whisper the next sentence.  "But incidentally, they were shitheads.  And they were greedy--so greedy, I can guarantee you that they're the type of folks to take issue with someone using their things, whether they're dead or not.  You folks, though--"  He nodded toward Finn.  "You've got precious cargo, and places to be."

     "The problem being," Shari said, "that we don't have a key to start the plane."

     "We'll have to trace his steps," Daphne said.  "If the plane's still sitting on the runway, and we can presume that he's dead in his house, then the keys should be here, in his truck, or in his house."

     "No guarantee we'll find them," Phoebe said, "but fuck it, it couldn't hurt to look.  I'm in no hurry to try and wade through the suburbs on foot."

     They agreed to split up and search the plane, runway, parking lot and walkways in between.  After a thorough search, they came up empty-handed.

     "Since we're going that way," Elmer said, starting up his pickup left waiting, "I'd love if you all could stop in for a visit, maybe some dinner.  I know the missus would be beside herself to have some company, especially the little one."

     "I'm sure we can spare at least a little bit of time," Shari said.

     "Ours is the last house on the left before you hit 24," Elmer said as he threw the truck into gear.  "And you can't miss my neighbor's great, towering McMansion, just before my house."

     "Ha," Shari said, "I'll be sure to keep an eye out for that.  We'll see you when we get there."

     The group set off down 52, reaching Elmer's house within minutes.  He waved from the front porch as they arrived.

     "I'll see what Carla's fixing for supper," he said as the group approached the house.  Shari saw the front curtains ruffle, and a moment later, the front door flew open.

     "Elmer!" a short, plump blonde woman shrieked, wrapping her husband in a frantic hug.  "Paul, get out here!  Your dad's home!"

     "Carla," Elmer said, "I'd like you to meet my new friends here.  I'd still be trapped, if it weren't for them."

     "Well, come on in," Carla said, holding the door open, "all of you."

     They sat in the living room for around an hour, trading stories and snacking on Carla's homemade apple pie, made with fresh apples from the dwarf tree outside.

     "I knew if I made my pie," Carla said, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin, "Elmer would smell it and come home, come hell or high water."

     "What can I say, dear?" Elmer said, planting a quick kiss on her cheek.  "You make one heck of a pie."

     Shari stood, swallowing the last bite of food in her mouth.  "I agree with Elmer," she said.  "It really was an amazing pie.  It's getting late, though.  I really should see about finding those keys."

     "I'll go with you," the Professor said.

     "The rest of you are welcome to stay until they get back," Carla offered.

     "Thanks, Mrs. Neumann," Hugo said.

     "Yeah," Phoebe concurred.  "Your house is beautiful--way more comfy than the radio building I've called home since April."

     "How do you think I feel?" the Professor joked as he and Shari headed out the door.  "I practically called that place home
before
the apocalypse."
     "Careful, you hear?" Elmer said.  The Professor flashed him a thumbs-up, closing the door behind him as he exited and followed Shari down the porch stairs.

     "So what will these keys look like?" Shari asked as they started down a patch of healthy, formerly pampered but now overgrown lawn.  There were about twenty acres between the Neumann's house and their neighbor's sprawling, newer construction manse next door.

     The Professor shrugged.  "Like keys, most likely.  It might say Cessna on it, and it might not."

     "Let's hope they aren't the types of people to have an inordinate amount of keys," Shari said.

     They reached the recently paved circle drive where Elmer's neighbor had left his truck.  They peered into the interior of the cab, noting that the driver's seat had been thoroughly soaked in blood, which had since darkened to a deep, sun-baked maroon.

     Shari opened the passenger side door, cowering from the whoosh of hot, acrid air that was immediately sucked out of the vehicle, washing past her.

     "Gross," she said, "it smells like rotting biological matter and new car in here."  She leaned into the cab and checked the seats, floor and glove compartment to be sure the keys hadn't been left in the truck.

     "On to the house?" the Professor asked as Shari stood, gently closing the door.

     "Yeah," she said, arming her drywall hammer.  The Professor reached into his shoulder bag, taking out a sawed-off shotgun.  On his belt was an unbreakable steel mallet which Shari had lent him.

     They ascended the stairs of the elaborate covered porch which wrapped around the first floor, much of it capped by balconies overhead.  They heard a loud buzz from the back yard, letting them know something rotting was likely nearby.  Shari locked eyes with the Professor as they continued to follow the porch, wrapping their way around the colossal house until they found themselves on a sprawling rear deck.  There was a deluxe outdoor kitchen and dining area running the width of the house and a hot tub on the outer corner of the deck.  A wide, wooden staircase led down to an expansive paved area with a murky, green inground swimming pool and an intricate outdoor fireplace and firepit constructed of matching red bricks. Shari descended the stairs, approaching the pit for a closer look.