The Reawakening (The Living Dead Trilogy, Book 1) (15 page)

“If only you could have seen your face when that land shark was talking to you. She had you completely mesmerized. Christ, you would have reached into that skull of yours and spoon fed her your own brains if she asked, assuming you had any left.”

“You’re such an asshole,” I shouted, pushing him away. “That’s always been the problem with you, Rick. Your whole life has been consumed with rationality, utility, scientific reasoning. Sure, science is great and a wonderful tool, but it’s not the only truth. You’re too close-minded to see anything beyond the narrow realm of your own area of expertise. Look around you, Rick.
Something
created all of this: the trees, the oceans, the hills and all the living things that occupy this world. Your evolutionary theory is as scientifically valid as my belief in God, regardless of your arrogant bullying.”

“Evolution is the natural progression of things, Thom. It’s stamped in every living creature’s genetic code. All that surrounds us is a result of eons upon eons of ongoing natural selection. Forget about any benevolent deity looking down on us with sympathy, love or understanding. A belief in God defies logic. Besides, any deity who would turn us into flesh-eating monsters after we die is not a deity I want any part of.”

“But you’re mistaken if you think you have a choice, because the two are not mutually exclusive,” I said. “And whether you want any part of God or not is beside the point. You don’t have a choice if God exists. God doesn’t need your approval to
be
.”

“Faith is a fairytale for the weak-minded. What we’re seeing here, from all my years of research, is an epic speeding up of the evolutionary process. It’s happened before in the history of evolution. The question is, what does this rapid development mean for the human species?”

“Evolution trends toward progress, and this isn’t what I call progress.”

“How do you know evolution trends toward progress? Do you even know what progress is? It’s like flying a plane in a raging storm without the benefit of instruments. You don’t know whether you’re flying up or down. Progress is relative. Viral epidemics throughout history have made us a stronger and infinitely more adaptable species. Yet would you deem the bubonic plague a positive development?”

“No, of course not,” I said, confused by his analogy.

“Of course you wouldn’t. But in many ways, the bubonic plague was a positive event. It helped us to adapt and allowed the modern human brain to become more advanced and sophisticated. For all it’s worth, brother, progress is a misconception and total human construct, developed by religions and governments in order to maintain the status quo. There is no built-in morality in the evolutionary process. It is what it is.”

“I’d refuse to believe that theory even if it
was
true!” I paced back and forth. “Let’s just stop talking about this and deal with the situation at hand.”

“Good idea. Abstract thinking won’t help us deal with this shit now.”

The severity of his harsh, analytical words rang in my ears. I glanced down one last time at the horrible creature trying to free itself from the straps. It thrashed and trembled, snapping its jaws in the air and clawing its hands. I stormed out of the lab and bolted upstairs, the pain in my ribs rendering me useless. I didn’t want to believe Rick. I could not. Many of the themes in my novels dealt with characters undergoing spiritual transformations through difficult situations, although nothing close to this. I did not entirely believe that his evolutionary theory negated the existence of a greater being. Delia’s words gave me reassurance that something greater was at work here. Something within her was trying to convey to us that our species needed to change or else doom future generations to misery and torment.

The sun began to rise above the horizon. I ran over to the window to see if anything had changed, but it was still too dark to see what had taken place during the night or if any of those creatures had ventured near. I made a pot of coffee and took out some bagels and cream cheese. Despite the lack of sleep, I felt alert and awake. I went into the living room and checked in on Dar, who was asleep in the rocking chair. Amber lay on the floor, still sound asleep. Gunner sat at the foot of the couch, tending to Emily, who looked weak but much better. Maybe she would survive after all. I went over to him and put my hand on his shoulder.

“How’s she doing?”

“Little better now. Her temperature is down to about 102, and she’s taking in fluids, thank God. I think she might actually make it.” He turned and looked up at me. “Did you take care of everything?”

I avoided his question and patted his shoulder, optimistic that this contagion could be handled with medicine and proper care.

“Great news about Emily, Gunner. Let me know if you need a break.”

“Thanks, but I’m good for now.”

I couldn’t look at him with a straight face, knowing full well that his wife was downstairs, transformed into a hideous monster. She was now one of
them
, having crossed over to the other side and returned as one of these soulless creatures. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that Rick had a valid reason to keep her alive, as repulsive as I found his methods. If he could somehow learn about her condition, then maybe he could help prevent others from succumbing to this sickness. Maybe he could help develop a vaccine that would prevent the dead from rising up and cannibalizing the living.

I walked into the kitchen and poured another cup of coffee. It was strong, black, and delicious. Who knew such simple things could be so pleasurable? The horizon started to glow a deep pink and purple. The snow-covered hills of northern Maine seemed to absorb the sky’s ominous reflection. I felt hopeful that Dar and I might soon be driving back to Boston, and that the military and the CDC would be arriving to bring this situation under control. I doubted that we would ever come back to Maine after all that had happened. I never wanted to see a farm again. Nothing could come close to the horrors we’d experienced in this neck of the woods, with the insane birds, crazy cows, pigs, savage coyotes and dead rising up to consume the living. Personally, I couldn’t wait to get home and reunite with my wife and son.

But would Boston, beset with riots and protests, be any better than this place? It had to be. I couldn’t see how it could be much worse.

Chapter 10

S
NOW STARTED TO FALL JUST AS
I was preparing to commandeer one of Rick’s cars and drive back home. I couldn’t believe our bad luck. Fat, thick flakes fluttered from the sky and created a whiteout scenario. Maybe we wouldn’t be going home after all, since there was no way of telling how much snow to expect, or if the roads were even passable. I slammed my fist onto the table and cursed. I had to make a decision right away about whether we should risk leaving or wait and see if the snow might eventually stop. If we left now, we might get caught in a deadly blizzard and end up dying of hypothermia in our car. I envisioned the two of us stuck on one of Maine’s back roads, running out of fuel and freezing to death, buried under three feet of powder.

But if we stayed here at the farm, we faced certain hardship and risked getting attacked, and then turning into one of the infected. The choice seemed grim. I calculated the odds of either choice, weighing the pros and cons, knowing full well that our survival hinged on making the right decision.

I paced back and forth in the dining room, wondering whether I should take the chance or wait. Outside, the snow didn’t appear to be letting up. Without a TV, radio, or Internet access to news reports, I had no way of making an informed decision. And I was going crazy inside this farmhouse with nothing to do but stare out the window and wait for more of those crazed lunatics to show up.

The only books I’d brought for the trip were ten copies of my new novel, which I’d signed for the bookstore in Bangor. What would I do for the next few days if this snowstorm kept up? I searched the drawers for a deck of cards, but came up empty. Rick had many books on biology and genetics in the other room, but that heady jargon would make my head spin. One needed a PhD in microbiology and chemistry to understand such esoteric tomes.

I was about to go back into the kitchen when I heard a low-level rumble outside in the driveway. It sounded like an engine. It pulsed and growled, and then roared like an explosion. I rushed over to the window and saw a tall man on a Harley gripping a set of handlebars, which were angled higher than his head. Snow fell all around him. He sat on the vibrating bike, glancing around at the burnt corpses strewn about on the whitening grass. He wore a black leather jacket with a red bandana tied around his head. His hair was long and black, and he sported a soul patch under his bottom lip. Without warning, he gunned the bike to a spot about twenty feet from the house, shut off the engine, and stomped on the kickstand. A shotgun was secured to the back of his bike. After dismounting, the man headed towards the front door and began to pound on it. I wondered if I should let him in, as he began to punch the door with the side of his fist.

“What the hell is that noise?” Rick said, running up the stairs.

“There’s a guy at the door,” I said, seeing Dar walk into the room. “He drove up on his Harley and parked out front.”

“That’s all we need, another mouth to feed. Don’t let him in. We need to keep our numbers down if we’re to survive this ordeal.”

“There’s going to be a lot of desperate people out there, Rick. What are you going to do when they all start showing up?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now we have to convince this poor sap to go elsewhere, and that there’s nothing here for him.”

Rick opened the main door, but kept the storm door locked. “What do you want?” he asked the man.

“There are creeps all over this goddamn place,” the man said. “They’ll come after me if you don’t let me in.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, friend. There’s no more room in here. I’ve got my hands full with two families and a sick kid to boot. Why don’t you try another house down the road and see if they’ll help you out.”

“Tried half a dozen houses already, but they got them things stomping around and chewing on body parts like they’re attending a country barbecue. Figured if I had any brains left, I’d get the hell out of there too, which is why I came here. Besides, my hog is low on fuel, and the snow’s coming down hard.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you. There’s another homestead about a half a mile down the road. The Baldwins. I can give you some gas if you like.”

“Look, I can help you guys out. I’m strong, a hard worker, and a helluva a shot with a rifle. I can shoot a cigarette out of a man’s mouth from thirty yards away.”

“Let him in, Rick,” Dar said.

“I let him in, and then I have to let in every other asshole comes begging at my door. The answer’s no, Dar!”

“You just going to stand around and watch him get eaten by one of them fuckers?” Dar said. “The dude’s blood will be on your hands.”

Rick turned around and faced her. “Our survival against these ‘fuckers’, as you so aptly call them, depends on us having enough supplies to last until this situation is over. Put more people into the equation and our survival rate drops dramatically. Someone in this house has to have the balls to say no, and looks like that someone is going to be me.”

The man started banging on the door again. Rick removed the Glock from his belt buckle and pointed it at him.

“I suggest you move on, fella, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Don’t do this, man. I’ll work my ass off if you let me in.”

“Jesus, Rick!” Dar shouted. “Stop being an asshole, and let the poor guy in. There’s nowhere else for him to go.”

“She’s right, Rick. We could use an extra hand now that Susan and Delia are gone.”

“No!” Rick said. “I’m well equipped to handle everything if need be. I don’t need anyone else complicating matters and using up our limited supplies. Besides, we know nothing about him.”

“I got a good feeling about this guy. Let him in, and I’ll personally tell everyone else to fuck off,” Dar said.

Rick gripped the gun with two hands and kept it pointed at the guy’s head. He looked confused, as if he hadn’t fully made up his mind. The guy looked over his shoulder and then back at Rick. A look of anxiety came over his long, thin face, and he began to pound on the door in desperation. Rick warned him to stop, moving into the shooter’s position. For a second, I thought he might actually pull the trigger. The snow kept falling in thick, crystalline clumps that seemed to stick to whatever it clung to. Already it had frosted most of the driveway as well as the remains of the creatures vanquished the night before.

“Might as well shoot me because I’m not leaving. Those bastards will lick these bones dry right in front of you.”

“I’m telling you to back off, fella. Get on your bike, and ride the hell out of here.”

“Look over there,” Dar said, pointing. “A bunch of them freaks are marching down the driveway. Now be real, Rick. His Harley’s not going anywhere without gas.”

“In the name of God,” the biker pleaded, falling to his knees. “I’m begging you to let me inside just until I can get some fuel and be on my way.”

Dar pushed her way past Rick and unlocked the door.