Summer Of 68: A Zombie Novel (8 page)

Stars burst and cartilage cracked. Ruth flew backwards and hit the floor. Her will to survive spattered with blood from her lips, taking with it the last of her breath. She tried to scream, but blood pooled rapidly in, so instead, she choked, gagging, as her body grew numb.

Towering above, the corpse swung the paperweight again. With a moist crack, the old woman’s forehead collapsed. Her body convulsed. As her body wiggled and writhed, the corpse met the rhythm, bludgeoning her with the object at hand.

The scent of blood enticed the dead man. He groaned excitedly.

A minute later, and the zombie stopped.

Ruth’s face was indistinguishable from the kind old lady she once was. Looking at the mess of gore, the corpse groaned, casually tossing the spent paperweight aside. Wasting no time, it began to pluck flakes of bone from the caved in hollow that was once her face. It scooped the pulped mess from her skull, swallowing the gray curds down by the fistful. Happier than a pig in slop, the corpse chewed its bounty.

***

Baker wouldn’t turn from Cohen’s corpse as he walked away, weary that the damned thing would get back up and finish the job. Mark Cohen lay bleeding on the gravel, motionless and dead. Still, Baker couldn’t fathom how that—
thing—
had once been his friend.

After ten or so feet, Baker glanced to the surrounding land. He counted nearly a dozen figures weaving sluggishly through the farmlands, moving in no particular destination.

His mind was made up, and didn’t plan on dealing with the old hag, just getting back to the station and getting this whole mess sorted out.

Let the dead things in the barn be her problem,
he thought.
And to Hell with everything else too!

Baker hurried to the car and flung open the back. Digging the keys from his pocket, he stabbed them into the ignition. His mind raced, so many different choices ran through, leaving him incapable of knowing which one to pursue. He was exhausted and tired, ready to breakdown at a moment’s notice.

He grabbed the CB and stopped, as he pictured Ruth, barreling from the house and screaming:
“Just where in the Hell do you think you’re going?”

A pang of guilt sucker punched him in the stomach. Ruth…he was in this mess because of her and because of that, couldn’t leave her behind, not with all of this madness going around. He leaned out of the car and turned to the farmhouse, surprised not to find her at the window. And then he saw it. He stared at the soulless face of the living dead. From behind the glass, a corpse stared back. It wasn’t Ruth, but someone else. The cadaver swallowed something from its bloodied fist.

Everything was crashing around him. Slumping his shoulders, he took the car out of park.

“It’s all bullshit,” he said, and with a lead foot, hit the main road in a flash.

***

The zombie didn’t move nor did it groan, as it watched the man get into the car. The corpse no longer felt hunger. Sure, it was present. It always was. Instead, it felt a euphoric, if not an idiotic sense of sedation and chose instead to shove the remaining handful of brain between its grinding jaws.

It watched as the car disappeared down the driveway and stepped away from the window, where it returned to the woman’s bleeding corpse, knelt and began to feed.

It felt no pity. No remorse—just hunger.

Chapter Eight

A gentle breeze blew across the old dirt road, stirring up a series of small dust clouds along the way. They danced and twirled along the side of the road, pulsating with a life all of their own. As the dust clouds carried on through their short cycles of life and death, the Martin brothers ran forward through the dirt filled haze.

Kicking and laughing, they leapt from one dust cloud to the next, all the while balancing their fishing rods across their young shoulders.

The older of the two, Jake, was an all American boy. At the age of nine, he was short and thin, with a dusty patch of brown hair and the freckles to match. His brother, younger than him by a couple of years, Russell—lost interest in the dust clouds, and stopped.

“Um,” he muttered, spying the ground with a curious gleam and knelt, prodding the space beneath it with a small stick.

“Careful,” Jake warned, adjusting the sack full of worms to the opposite hand. “You don’t want to go ‘round, poking a snake if it’s under there, do you?”

It was a possibility that he didn’t want to risk. Northern California was host to a plethora of reptiles, most notably, rattlesnakes. Russell, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care.

“There’s not a snake in there,” he said and as to prove a point, slid his index finger into the cool crevice beneath the stone. “It was a blue-belly lizard. I saw it run under here. Look if you don’t believe me!” His voice beamed in a triumphant tone.

“Russ,” Jake scorned, “if you caught it, it ain’t worth the time it’ll take to get it. We gotta get moving if we wanna catch anything down at the fishing hole.”

Russell sighed, dropping the stick and hopped to his feet.

“There ain’t a thing down at that creek and you know it!” he said, picking his fishing pole up from the ground.

“And how do you know that?”

“Because dad said there wasn’t.”

“He did not,” Jake said, sounding all but offended.

“Yeah…well, dad ain’t ever home to know, so!” Russell protested. He played a hard game, brandishing his claws like a cat in the corner.

Jake remained silent, his brother’s words cut deep. Their father had been gone for quite some time. Their mother told them once that he had important things to do, and that a lot of people were depending on him. Neither of them cared about that, the only thing that mattered was how much they both missed him. As it were, so did their mother. She had never been the same since he left. She was always sad and always quiet. It felt as if her affection towards them was different and considerable less than before—regardless of the times she reassured them of her love, the sadness was ever-present.

After a couple more minutes of silence, Russell asked, “Are we gonna get there soon?”

“Pretty soon,” Jake replied. “You see that bend in the road, up ahead?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Russell squinted against the horizon. “Right there?” he asked, pointing to nothing but the rolling expand of desolate hillsides.

“Yep—that’s it!” his older brother beamed.

Of course, Russell couldn’t see a thing, there wasn’t even a bend for him to point at, but if Jake could satisfy his brother with minimal complaints, it was a good enough lie for him.

Jake looked around and smiled, gazing off at the endless expanse that took precedence around them. It felt like they were in the middle of nowhere with the town of Red Bluff, nothing more than a pinprick on the backdrop. They were explorers—pioneers in a newfound frontier. The possibilities were endless. Out here, their adolescent minds ran rampant.

They hadn’t been on foot for long. Their neighbor, Sid, had given them a ride the majority of the way, taking them both as far as he could, until the roads became too much for comfort. The ride was slow and the traffic next to nil, primarily since Sid had a tendency to drive well below the speed limit. That aside, it was a good ride. Their mother always called Sid, ‘
a dying breed.’
The boys knew he was something special. The old man was always there for them since the day they were born, and a close family friend, spanning three generations.

Jake remained quiet as they walked, he didn’t bother to mention when they past the imaginary bend a couple of minutes back, but by then, Russell had all but forgotten about it. He looked to Russell and cracked a smile, realizing that Russell’s thoughts now lay elsewhere. Russell’s eyes were wide and full of wonder, zoned out on the natural wonder that surrounded them.

And so with nothing more to do than take it all in, the two boys walked in silence. 

The surrounding hills and land was a popular spot for the towns’ youth. Anxious teens would go there to neck, while the rebellious of the lot would get drunk, smoke pot, and dropped acid, free from the judgmental eye of the public. This was also where their father came to fish in his youth, just like his daddy before him. Because of that, Jake wished that someday, he could add to that legacy and of course, before he could, he still had a whole lot of growing up to do.

Wherever they looked, they spied the beauty that surrounded them and a sense of serenity that was all but forgotten, yet threatened at the same time by the civilized world. In their ample minds, this was a land for cowboys and Indians, pioneers and the rustic settlers of the old west. This was a world that could fill their tender minds with endless wonder and countless possibilities.

Overhead, the sun burned bright, its white-hot glow radiated across a cloudless blue sky. Warm rays kissed their cheeks and caressed their necks, turning them red and warm to the touch.

A chilled sweat broke across Jake’s brow. He wiped it clean with the back of his hand and trudged on. It was torture, but in time, he knew that their troubles would be greatly rewarded. With Russell in tow, the two of them could spend much of the day relaxing beneath the shade of an old oak tree, casually waiting for a fish or two to nibble on their line.

“What do you think it’s gonna be like when we grow up?” Russell asked, breaking the silence after a prolonged period of time.

It was a good question and something Jake had found himself thinking from time to time. Still, after much consideration, he wasn’t able to draw a response. 

“I dunno,” he replied, kicking a rock. The small stone skidded across the ground for a couple of yards, before tumbling into a small ditch along the side of the road. “I reckon we’re just gonna have to wait and see.”

Of course, Jake didn’t want to wait and see. As a child, he was more concerned with what the future held, rather than living his own adolescence.

“Aw, I don’t want to wait.” Russell frowned. He fell silent and a moment later stated, “I want it to be fun. You know, like it is in the movies.” He jumped joyfully and for a moment, his enthusiasm gave Jake a peak at his alternate reality.

“With robots,” Russell said.

“And spaceships?” Jake asked.

“YES! And aliens—and strange planets, and man eating plants—all of those things would be awesome!”

Jake chuckled, knowing they would have been, too.

Russell was fascinated with science fiction and loved to go to all of the afternoon double features on Sunday and Monday. Jake on the other hand, had taken after his father and was a tried and true monster kid. It was an interest his mother wasn’t too quick to support and more often than not, took them with her to see musicals and boring love stories rather than ogling over
Robot Monster,
Nightmare Castle,
and
Plan 9 from Outer Space
.

“You know, Russ, life’s not always gonna be as fun as it is in the movies,” he said. He thought of Sid as he spoke and the stories told of his life.

“In fact,” he added, “it might not be what you wanted it to be.”

Chapter Nine

Jake and Russell marched headlong into the day, their time on the dusty old trail slowed, stretching into what felt like a joyful eternity. Relishing with nothing but time on their side, they discussed life and how they wanted things in the years to come. Jake was content with the way their life was, and figured once their father returned, childhood could truly commence. Russell, on the other, had different plans. His plans involved flying cars and green tinted space women—even though he couldn’t stifle his giggles as he said so.

“Hold up,” Jake said. He came to an abrupt stop at the side of the road.

Russell did and together, they stared down at a snaking footpath, which followed the slope of the embankment, through a copse of gnarled trees, and rugged overgrowth. Even in the light of day, it was an imposing, if not monstrous sight.

“We’re going down there?” Russell asked. His voice trembled with underlying fear, kindled by the thought of a steep trek downhill.

“Yep,” Jake beamed. His excitement grew at the thought of the bubbling creek, lying beyond the dry timbers. “You wanna hold these for me?” he asked, offering the sack of worms and his fishing pole for Russell to carry.

“Do I have to?”

“It’ll be just for a moment and when I get down, you can just toss ‘em to me. Okay?”

Defeated, Russell sighed. “I guess,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. He took the items from his brother and waited.

“Alright...” Jake’s heart raced, peaking at the final second. Before he could chicken out, he took the plunge and began to run. Gravity took over, propelling him forward, faster and faster and before he knew it, he reached the bottom of the slope. In the end, adrenaline and fear got the best of him, breaking him down into a joyous fit of laughter. He doubled down to his knees and giggled, wiping the tears from his eyes

“There,” he said, his heart returned to its normal pace. “See—not a problem at all, you got nothing to be scared of!” Jake shielded his eyes and squinted at Russell, standing above. His brother remained as rigid as a post, silhouetted against the sun.

“It doesn’t look
too
bad,” Russell said. His voice contained a trace of uncertainty.

“It’s not,” Jake reassured. “First, throw me the bait.”

Russell did, cautiously throwing it in a way that insured that no damage would occur to the precious cargo within.

Jake caught it—barely, as the bag flexed and sagged, threatening to rip. Not to jinx luck, he was quick to set it aside and looked back up at Russell.

“Now throw me the poles!”

Jake took a step back, bracing for the catch. Both of the fishing poles were far from new, having been constructed decades past from sturdy materials, they had since began to crumble beneath the passage of time. Their sentimental values went beyond priceless, and were genuine antiques in their minds. They were given as gifts to their father and uncle, when they were their age. Neither of the boys had met their uncle; he had died in the Korean War before either was born. That alone was a hefty price tag in their minds.

From above, Russell asked, “Ready?”

“Ready,” Jake replied.

The seconds slipped away and still, Russell stood there, firmly rooted into place. “Are you sure,” he asked with the subtlety of killing time.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Jake replied, once more.

Russell took a deep breath. “Alright—catch!” he yelled, swinging his arm back in an exaggerated arch and threw the first pole through the air.

Jake leapt to his feet, slapping the fishing pole to his chest the moment it came within reach. “Got it!” he grinned, setting it beside the writhing bag of bait.

“Okay, ready for the next one?”

“Uh-huh.”

Jake caught the next one without incident. He stuck both of them beneath his arm and cradled the bag of bait—ready to kick gravel and start fishing, but first he needed his brother.

“Do you want me to come down now?” Russell asked. His voice laced with innocent confusion, if not fear.

“No,” Jake replied, without missing a beat, “I want you to stay up there
all
day.”

It took a moment for Russell to realize the sarcasm in his brother’s voice. “Yeah, right,” he said. “Are you ready?”

Jake sighed. “Of course, now get down here and stop asking me if I’m ready. We got plenty of things to do.” He stepped back and added, “But be careful, Mom will get me good if anything happens to you—we’ll never leave the house again, neither!”

Russell nodded and stepped toward the edge of the slope. Acting with caution, he wadded down the path, the jagged rocks and brief drop offs could have made even the most experienced of hikers nervous. Russell took his time.

Not wanting to be in the way
if
he fell, Jake stepped back and gave a larger berth, if it were to come to that. Russell reached the final stretch, and quickened his pace to that of a slow jog. In no time, he gained momentum, eventually running past his brother, struggling to control his speed.

“Uh…” he grumbled, nervously.

Jake winced, he imagined Russell tumbling headlong into the brush. When it looked as though it would come to that, Russell stopped, digging his heels into the dirt. A cloud of powdery dust engulfed him, like the Roadrunner from Looney Tunes. All that was missing was the colorful,
beep-beep.

Russell turned to Jake, his eyes were wide, his chest heaving. The poor kid was scared out of his mind. He chased away the notion of fear with a wide and toothy grin. “That was too easy,” he said, gulping for breath as the color of life returned to his face.

Jake laughed and handed him his fishing pole. “You’re a liar,” he said, “you looked scared, and stupid, too!”

“I was not,” Russell declared, snatching the pole with a look of annoyance.

“Sure,” Jake said, rustling his brother’s hair.

“Stop that!” Russell cried, batting away his brother’s hand.

His reaction only made Jake want to tease him more. “Liar-liar, pants on fire!” Jake said in a sing-song manor. 

“I am not!” he protested.

Jake laughed and let it go. In time, Russell did the same. As quick as the teasing began, it was over and no hard feelings remained.

“C’mon, let’s get a move on before it’s too late.”

Russell nodded. “Okay,” he said, “after you.”

Jake moved on, disappearing beneath the brush that hung across the winding footpath. A moment later, Russell followed, maneuvering through the low lying branches and limbs. They followed the trail deeper and deeper into the seclusion, in search of paradise.