Revenence: Dead Silence, A Zombie Novel (2 page)

She could feel her heartbeat thumping in her throat, beating with such an intensity she could feel it vibrate through her body, the blood agitating in her veins. 
So much for making it to mom and dad's
...a voice from somewhere in her mind, her own and yet not her own...ringing up oddly, as if emanating from underwater. The voice, and the words it transmitted, scared her...and so she did what anybody would  do in response to such a voice, which is to ignore it. 

She leaned down quickily to pick up her phone from the passenger side floor, where it had been hastily thrown when she saw that boy crawl out of the vehicle. 
What the fuck?  It can't be zombies, can it? God, please don't let it be zombies...it's just some weird isolated incident, right? Maybe this upper-middle class mom and her adolescent son both did some bath salts together?
...but as she dialed 911 and put the phone to her ear, it dawned on her that God most likely would not oblige her rationalized pleas.  There was no dispatcher to answer her call, no trusty voice on the other end to composedly assure her, "This is 911, please state your emergency." Instead, she got a busy signal.
Well, I mean, that probably happens from time to time. Sometimes all their lines are being used at once...I mean, it shouldn't happen under normal circumstances, but that doesn't mean it's the fucking zombie apocalypse, does it?

She didn't know what to do at this point except continue to drive.  This part of the stretch was entirely rural. She knew from making the trip so many times in the past that it would be about fifteen minutes before she even reached a small town with any type of population, and there were stretches where the farms were about five minutes apart. 

She was still mulling over the fact, trying to decide if she should continue down this same road or not, when the sight ahead swiftly made up her mind for her.  About two-hundred yards away, she saw wreckage of an accident that involved at least three cars, taking up the entirety of both lanes.  Going around the accident was not an option. This whole stretch of road featured ditches at least six feet deep, and the road and shoulders appeared to be blocked solid up ahead with wrecked cars.  She saw vague figures darting around and heard the anguished, horrified shrieks that only helped to solidify the conclusion she was so desperately trying to avoid...that
This is, indeed, the fucking zombie apocalypse, princess
.  The voice was floating up from the suppressed judgment that she wouldn't admit to herself she'd already made. She determined that she didn't want to know what was going on down the road. She screeched to a halt and threw the car into reverse, backing up about a hundred feet to where she had seen an even more rural country road.  Although this one quickly turned to gravel, she concluded that it was a better option than trying to get past the wreckage up ahead, and most likely joining them in their unintentional demolition derby and, undoubtedly, their human flesh feast.  She figured she'd detour and most likely make her way back to the highway. She realized now more than ever that she needed to make it to her parents' house, needed to make sure they were okay and all hole up together until this bizarre predicament was under control.  She made a right and hoped it was the right decision.

She was about five miles in on the gravel road and had not yet some across a single driveable crossroad to continue her detour back to the highway.  There had been one to her right, but as she began to turn onto it, she saw a large sign.  BRIDGE OUT, 2 MILES AHEAD. 
Damn it.  Full steam ahead, I guess.  No other choice
.  She drove on.  She was about five miles in when she rounded a curve and spotted what she presumed to be more wreckage about a 1/2 mile ahead.  She could see the flames and smoke spewing into the air, and didn't need to get any closer to guess what was going on.  As she looked ahead, she saw in the distance some figures running in the direction of her car, and she knew now that she had no choice but to get off of the road. She was approaching a driveway up ahead on her left, a thick, dense treeline obscuring the view of what lay beyond.  She didn't know whom or what to expect beyond that treeline, but she didn't suppose she had much to lose. She already knew there were people waiting to eat her up ahead on the road, and she still saw no crossroads whatsoever as she scanned the road ahead of her. It was either pull off the road and
maybe
encounter something terrifying at that farmhouse, or continue on down the road and have it as a certainty.

She slowed only as much as she had to to avoid losing control of the car and drove along the 1/4 mile-long dirt driveway. At the end, a large, two-story house sat on the left side, and a handful of outbuildings, including a barn with a corral and a few horses, on the right. There was a large wind turbine turning out behind the house.  She opened up her glove compartment and took out her assault baton before venturing outside of the car. Even though it wasn't legal for her to own, it had come in handy before.  An ex-boyfriend had given her some pointers on how to use the baton, and she hoped now that it was still fresh in her memory.  Although she'd feel safer with a gun, she was glad to have something to defend herself with.  Still, she was praying it didn't come to that. She didn't really feel prepared to go head-to-head with a zombie, baton or no baton.

She headed in the direction of the large garage, on the opposite side of the driveway from the house...then she thought better of it, and backed up a few steps toward the safety of her car.  The garage door was open, and a bright overhead light was shining.  She figured she might as well make herself known and figure out who was in there before she got too far away from the car.  She was pretty sure that if it was one of those things that heard her voice, and not a normal human being, they'd come running at her without hesitation.  This would afford her the opportunity to get back into her car, start it, and drive away before it could eclipse the three-hundred feet or so between herself and the garage. 
Drive away, or run it over. 
She wasn't sure where she'd go after that, but she thought it was a solid enough plan to start with, at least.  She stood there for about twenty seconds before she worked up the nerve to call out loudly.  "Who's in there?" she demanded, full of false bravado.  Nobody responded, and she took a couple steps forward.  More loudly this time-"WHO'S IN THERE?"  Still silence.  She tightened the grip of the baton in her hand and marched resolutely, but slowly, toward the garage.  She was just outside the open overhead door when she shielded her eyes from the glaring fluorescent light mounted on the ceiling, and saw the woman squatting down in the loft of the garage, bow drawn, arrow pointed straight at Shari's face.  "You gonna be one of them?" she inquired with a noticeable southern twang.

Shari simply stood staring for a moment staring at the woman's resolute expression, locking gazes with her.

A faint , meek "No," was all she could muster up.  She was thinking to herself,
What if I was?  I'm supposed to say yes, so you can put an arrow betwixt my eyes?
, but she thought it was a good idea to placate the lady pointing an arrow at her head.

"Well, have you  been bitten?" she demanded.

"No.  I had to get off the road, they...there were accidents everywhere, and those things..."

"I know," the woman said as she lowered her bow, placing the arrow back into her hip quiver.  She threw down a rope ladder and descended from the loft.  "Just be glad you were out in the country, where there's not a lotta traffic.  Otherwise, I suspect you'd have never had a chance."  She crossed the garage toward Shari.  She was a tall, lean, weathered blonde of about forty-five.  She looked like a cliche country girl, alright...worn jeans, cowboy boots and hat, flannel buttoned down to reveal the upper swell of an ample bosom.  "My husband is a truck driver, pretty sure he was up near Carbondale as of this morning, up in Illinois.  God knows what it's like in a city of that size, if the shit's hit the fan there like it has here.  I hope he was on his way into the city, not out.  No traffic tryin' to get into the city, I imagine, less accidents.  Out, on the other hand, southbound outta the city, road's gotta be jammed to high heaven.  As you said yourself, accidents everywhere, even on this godforsaken country road leadin' to nowhere."

"Yeah, I don't know if it's a local thing, or what," Shari offered quietly.  "I got on the road outside of Central City, but I didn't see anything unusual until about five miles south down the highway. I didn't think to turn on the radio."

"Well, radio ain't worth a damn anyway.  Emergency broadcast came through about an hour ago, no real info though.  Then nothin' but static.  Internet, TV, no one's offerin' any explanation.  I guess whoever's job it is to inform us has likely headed home to their families, or attempt to, at any rate.  Can't say I blame 'em.  Still, it'd be nice to have some fuckin' clue as to what's goin' on."

Shari looked nervously toward the treeline shielding the property from the gravel road.  "There are some of those things on the road up there, headed this way," she informed the cowgirl, pointing in the direction where she had seen them running toward her, apparently already aware of her car approaching.  "I'm pretty sure they saw me come in  here.  I'm sorry, but I had no choice but to pull in here."

"Aw, shitstain!" she cowgirl hissed, stomping the ground with one boot. "No matter, they'd have been here eventually whether you came or not.  I ain't mad at ya.  I mean, no tellin' what they're using to sense us...scent...sound...hell, maybe even sonar for all we know?"  The cowgirl laughed .  "They obviously ain't people no more.  Well, I guess I might as well invite you in.  No point in lettin' you stand out here to get eaten.  Not my idea of a fun spectator sport."  She turned back toward the rope ladder, and motioned over her shoulder for Shari to follow. "I've got a pretty decent setup here in the loft, if I do say so myself."  She started up the ladder, and Shari gratefully followed right behind her. "I like to be prepared for anythin'.  I guess you could say I'm a survivalist of sorts.  It's not that I was really expectin' zombies, per se, but you never know when you'll need a hideout that's inaccesible to unwanted guests, know what I mean?" 

Shari climbed up off the ladder and into the loft, looking around.  She grabbed the rope ladder and lifted it up into the loft, lest the zombies should try to join them.  This lady wasn't kidding about the survival thing.  There were weapons galore up here, plus some other staples to make the place somewhat liveable...some furniture, a refrigerator and deep freezer, microwave, even some books.  There was also electricity and running water, judging from the sink and makeshift shower. 

"Yeah, me and a handful of people could hole up here for at least a few weeks, if not months, what with the fridge, freezer, and pantry all fully stocked. The electric won't go out if the grid goes down, since I have my own wind turbine and a few generators.  Huge propane tank out back fully filled, so the gas won't run out, not this year at any rate.  Water neither.  We got a large cistern and a few reliable wells, too.  I've got two stoves, one gas and one electric. You certainly picked the right place to wander in off the road, girl.  Couldn't find a better place under these circumstances, not if you tried."  She pressed a button on her keychain, and the garage door began to close.  "But keep in mind, you better not be lyin' about not havin' been bitten.  If I so much as
suspect
that you're thinkin' of eatin' me alive, I won't think twice before I push you off that balcony and let the zombies finish what they started," she warned, pointing toward the sliding glass door leading to the balcony.

"Fair enough, but I'm telling you, I haven't been bitten."  Shari sat down on a loveseat in the middle of the large room.  "What makes you so sure it's the bite that does it?"

"Well you've seen them, haven't you?  You see one suffer what should be a lethal throat-gougin', and it's less than a minute before they're on their feet, runnin' at you full-tilt.  This is when they were livin' and breathin' just moments before, the look of terror still shinin' in their eyes. I'm not sayin' I'm a zombie expert, it just seems like a logical deduction, is all."

Shari thought back to that red Navigator, the mom and son.  "So you're thinking they're zombies too, huh?"

"I guess that's what you'd call 'em, although I guess it don't matter much whether we call 'em zombies, ghouls, or murderin' sadists.  The point is, we can use our senses and our logic to see what they're doin', and react accordingly.  You can call 'em what you like, as long as you stay the hell out of their way."

Shari looked around some more, taking in the contents of the room, the various weaponry.  "I guess you must be pretty good with a bow and arrow. There's got to be at least two dozen bows up here, and...what?...hundreds of arrows?"

"Thousands, actually.  And yes, I'm pretty damn good with a bow.  Granddad taught me when I was a girl.  I've taught countless classes, trained a number of friends and family...even made it to the Olympics with my recurve bow.  And," she added, winking, "you'd be surprised what I can make a homemade arrow from.  You gotta be resourceful."

"So you really are a survivor."

             
"Damn straight," the cowgirl responded with a smile.  "Oh--I never introduced myself.  I'm Fauna Astley," she said as she ambled over to the loveseat where Shari sat, offering her hand.

"I'm Shari," she said as she stood, feeling Fauna's strong grip.  

"Pleasure to make make your acquaintence, Shari.  Looks like we might be spendin' some time together."