Authors: Phillip Tomasso
“I got the basement,” Allison said.
“I’ll check the garage.”
We checked everywhere. Behind, under, and around things. It was like I thought. My kids were not here. There was no note, no . . .
Phone charger.
I ran back upstairs, and into my daughter’s room.
Julie was still sprawled out face down on the bed. A foamy puddle of spittle soaked the throw carpet under her face. That unbreakable string of saliva connected the pool to her mouth.
She moaned and groaned as I walked around the bed and snatched my daughter’s charger off the nightstand, and unplugged it from the wall. I lifted the broken frame off the floor and scattered the glass away with my fingers. I dug the actual photo free, looked at it for a long few seconds before folding and stuffing it into my pocket.
I took the charger from Cash’s room, too.
Downstairs, Allison stood by the door. “Everything okay?”
I held up the charger. “It’s not. But this helps,” I said.
It kind of did. I’d be able to charge my phone in the SUV. But if Charlene’s phone was dead, what good would it do me?
Absolutely, none.
A horn honked. Could have been the SUV. And again. Then a car alarm was activated. Whooping over and over.
Chapter Thirty
Allison and I charged out of Donald and Julie’s house. Out front, zombies surrounded the SUV. They pounded on the windows, climbed onto the hood. I counted ten. Eleven, one was behind the SUV, too.
Nothing slow or sluggish about them.
They wore t-shirts, basketball shorts, and high-tops. It was like our friends were being attacked by a high school basketball team. There was also a woman in rollers, and an unbelted baby blue bathrobe. The old man in briefs and nothing else, had more hair on his body than a Sasquatch.
If Josh and Dave weren’t in trouble, if this wasn’t really happening, it would be hysterical. I’d be laughing. Only, it wasn’t really Josh and Dave in trouble. It was Allison and me. They were in a truck. Locked away safe. We were out in the open.
I unclipped my radio. “Josh. Dave. Guys, get out of here. We’ll go back in the house. Come back for us later,” I said. I put an arm in front of Allison, swept her behind me, back into the house.
“Roger that.” Dave’s voice was crisp and clear over the radio.
The horn honked and honked as Josh backed out of the driveway.
At first I thought, what the hell is he doing? I realized then that he was drawing their attention. Keeping the zombies occupied. Saving Allison and me. Or, at the very least, buying time.
I locked the door, watched the SUV pull away from the house slowly, the zombies still on the hood, following and banging on the windows.
“What are we going to do?” Allison said.
“Be ready. Check the back door. Saw it in the kitchen, goes out onto a deck. Make sure we can get out that way,” I said.
Josh wasn’t leaving. He was bowling.
Once down the street, and clear of the monsters, Josh turned around and sped toward the gathered herd. Two things happened. Several of the zombies were hit, maimed, and some killed. While one of them bounced into the air, over the hood and smashed through the SUV windshield.
Josh braked hard. The SUV spun. Tire treads didn’t grab shit on the wet pavement. The zombie on the hood rolled onto the street and into a yard, inches from taking out a mailbox.
“We can get out the back door. No zombies back there.” Allison was panting, like she’d run there and back.
“They’ll all be out front with the noise Josh is making. Wait here. Watch them. They get into trouble--yell. I’ll be right back,” I said.
I left Allison at the door, ran into the kitchen. And stared at the walls. I didn’t see a place for hanging car keys. I checked drawers and all around where the phone was mounted.
Two cars in the driveway. Keys had to be somewhere. I knew when I got home, I walked in the apartment and dropped them onto the bookcase by the door. Along with my wallet and smokes.
I went back to the front door. Right there. A small table in the corner.
“What is it?” Allison said.
“We’re going to be riding in style, I think,” I said. “With the windshield smashed on that thing, it won’t be any good to us.”
Josh hadn’t let up. His plan worked, and backfired.
I depressed the button on the radio. “Josh, all the excitement is calling more zombies. I can see them coming down the street from inside the house.”
The SUV did a
thump-da-thump-thump
over a downed monster before the radio crackled. Dave’s voice came through with static over the small speaker. “This windows shot. Front end is a bit smashed.”
“I got us new rides,” I said. “Allison and I are going to run out and start the cars in the driveway. You clear a path, come up on the lawn, and then jump into the cars.”
“Roger that.”
I handed the BMW keys to Allison. I didn’t want to drive the car Donald bought for my ex. I’d rather drive his. Planned to beat the shit out of it after we got where we needed getting to.
“Where are we going?” Allison said.
It was an obvious question. My kids weren’t here. The whole journey had been about finding them, coming to their rescue. Getting us back together.
They weren’t here, and there was no indication to where they may have . . .
It hit me. There was one obvious place my kids might head to if things went bad at their mom’s home. And it was safe to say things went bad. Very bad.
The solution was almost too daunting, too much to comprehend. I thought I knew where my kids were, or where they were headed. “We’re going to run to the cars,” I said. “Get in. Start them up, okay?”
Allison nodded.
The zombies were preoccupied with the SUV. Josh was unleashing a solid case of whup-ass on them, breaking legs, and rolling over skulls. With the new arrivals, there were still about seven or eight zombies. The guy in the whitey-
tighties
was down. His head so flat I thought I saw tire tracks across his skin.
“On three,” I said. I placed a hand on my pocket, knowing the picture of my family was safe, and it gave m
e strength. I’d need it. We had to head back the way we’d just come. No one was going to be too happy about that.
We counted together, silently. Lips moving. No words came out. On three, the unlock button on the key fobs
sounded. Lights on the vehicles came on. We ran, climbed into our cars and started the engines.
The Lexus had a full tank.
I hoped the BMW did as well.
I used the radio. “We’re ready for you,” I said.
I gave Allison a thumbs-up through our windows, and we waited.
Josh had the SUV in the street. He slammed it into reverse and sped backwards. He took out two, the truck bouncing over and crushing their bodies.
When he stopped, I held my breath. All at once, despite wet pavement, I heard tires squeal and saw rain water spray out of puddles as the Navigator lunged forward. It resembled a bizarre obstacle course. He wasn’t going around or avoiding orange pylons. He was running the zombies down. One after the other. He did a 180 and came up onto the lawn. The tires dug into the grass, but the ground was too hard to rut up the yard. The SUV slid to a stop alongside the driveway.
Allison threw open her door.
I screamed, “What are you doing?”
She jumped into the passenger seat of the Lexus. Dave and Josh scrambled into the BMW.
Josh gave me a nod.
I engaged the door locks, and backed out of the driveway. I started down the street and Josh and Dave followed close behind.
The Lexus struggled going over the corpses Josh left scattered on the road. The cars were not optimal for this, the way the Navigator had been. They would have to do.
“The BMW have a full tank?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t look.”
“Use my radio. Ask,” I said.
She took the radio. “Josh? Dave?”
“Right behind you,” Dave said.
“How are you for fuel?”
“Full tank.”
I nodded at Allison. Sounded good.
“Ah, Chase? Josh wants to know the game plan,” Dave said. “You have one, right?”
“Tell him,” I said to Allison, “My kids are headed to my apartment. We’re going there. Back to Ridge Road.”
Allison’s eyes went a little wide. She relayed the message. There was a long silence. The radio crackled.
“Josh says, at least we’re headed south.”
Chapter Thirty-One
The rain had stopped as we started south on the main road. I learned two things. The zombies definitely hate the rain, and two, they were not just dying off on their own.
Despite the darkness of a fall evening, the creatures spilled onto the streets. The variety of monster attire was mildly humorous. Business suits to sweat pants and a tank-top, to evening gowns, and bathrobes with slippers. Sanitation workers in green jumpsuits to fast food employees in striped Polo's with cargo pants and complete with a big M on the brim of their cap.
“You okay,” Allison said. Her voice shattered the peaceful silence that until she spoke
, I had not realized I’d been enjoying.
“I am just trying to get my hands around all of this. The world is no more. I mean, I always thought we’d have a big war. Nuclear or something. That would change life as we knew it, you know. There’
d be warnings. Irate third world countries threatening attacks. We’d suspect it was coming. But this? No one could have seen this coming. Or, no one outside of maybe the CDC. It’s just, it’s hard to accept it. There ain’t no other choice though. This is life now.” I sailed my hand from one end of the Lexus windshield to the other. “This is what we are stuck with.”
She put her hand on mine. Squeezed. “We’re going to get through all of this. Find somewhere safe. Find somewhere to live on some isolated island, and just forget about the world.”
The pipe dream sounded wonderful, I was afraid to admit that even to myself. I knew I was smiling though. Felt the muscles I hadn’t used in a few days stretch. “I just want to get my kids, Alley. Me, them, and you. It’s all I want.”
She leaned over, rested her head onto my shoulder. “I want that, too.”
It’s weird what we wanted. Before this, I wanted my kids for longer than a weekend. I wanted to see them on Halloween in their costumes. I wanted to beat the fuck out of my ex-wife -- well, I did that. Now . . . now it was all different. I wanted survival, and supplies, and a safe haven to sneak off and hide behind. And I did want Allison with me. By my side. I did realize that.
“I need you,” I said.
She lifted her head, stared at me. I took my eyes off the road. There was an actual tear on her cheek. Not a rolling raindrop that dripped from her hair onto her face. “You need me? You really need me?”
And then we crashed.
Through it all, as it unfolded in that cinematic way of slow-motion, the horn blared -- long, loud, constant, a
Brrrrrrraaaaaaaaa
that reverberated loose inside my skull.
I thought Allison had a seat belt on. She didn’t. Her body flew forward. Her head smashed into the windshield. It didn’t break. It shattered.
Brrrrrrraaaaaaaaa
!
That was all I saw, or remembered as my head slammed into the steering wheel. The seat belt snapped me back against the seat. I felt the burn of the material against my neck and chest. And then, and then the fucking airbag ballooned into my face. Fucking Donald. I could blame Lexus, but I don’t. I blame him, my ex’s husband.
At least my nose didn’t get broken by the bag.
Brrrrrrraaaaaaaaa!
What was I doing?
Sitting in the car. Thinking about the air bag.
My door was pulled open. “Chase?”
Josh looked panicked. “Yeah?”
“You okay?”
I didn’t know. I couldn’t tell. I didn’t feel anything. “We hit that car,” I said.
Josh moved away, went to the front of the car. The hood was busted into a triangle. He raised it.
Brrrrrrraaaaaaaaa!
The black Malibu was in the middle of the intersection. We t-boned the shit out of it.
The horn stopped. I think it did. My head still heard it. Wasn’t sure if the sound was actually being picked up from my ears though.
“We have to get you out of this,” Josh said.
“Where’s Allison?”
“Dave’s helping her to the BMW.” Josh reached in. “Can you undue your seat belt?”
I nodded. My hands fumbled for the release. “It’s stuck.”
Josh fell back, out of the car.
A zombie had him by the shoulders. It had been a woman once. She wore jeans and
a blue blouse. Could have been a teenager. Might have been a woman in her forties. Her face was so decayed, I couldn’t tell. “Josh,” I said. “Joshua!”
I struggled with the belt, pressing, and pulling. I kept my eyes on Josh, though. He spun on the woman, breaking her hold on his shoulders. He delivered a solid right cross, and then another. She staggered sideways from the blows.
Dave came out of nowhere. Dropped to the pavement and swept the leg. The zombie went down hard. Josh pulled his hand shovels and pummeled the face and head of the zombie until it stopped crying out in that sickening moan and all was silent.
“Nice,” I said.
“He’s stuck,” Josh told Dave. “The seat belt.”
“We got more coming. Sound of the crash called ‘em, I’m guessing. That horn.”
“We need to get Chase out of the car,” Josh said.
“Never seen so many.” Dave spun slowly around in a circle. I just watched him. Josh was across my lap. He tugged on the seat belt.
“Dave. I need help,” Josh said.
“We gotta move, Josh. We gotta get out of here.”
Dave was crisp in my line of vision. Clear. Behind and all around him was fuzzy. Out of focus. If those were zombies, those fuzzy images staggering forward, then we were in trouble.
I grabbed Josh by the arm. “Get Allison out of here. She knows where I live. Go save my kids. Okay? Go save my kids.”
“We are getting you out, buddy. Dave!”
Dave pulled Josh out of the car. He grabbed onto the seat belt, set his feet onto the door frame, so that he was standing on and inside the car, and yanked.
His face went red. He didn’t look like he was breathing. He didn’t grunt. Or groan. Or yell. The pretensioner gave just after the latch exploded out of the latch plate. I was free. And floating. Dave hoisted me out of the car and over his shoulder in a single swoop. “Drive the car, Josh,” Dave said.
“That was close. That was close,” Allison said.
“You okay?” Dave dropped me into the back seat next to my girlfriend. “Are you all right?”
“My head hurts.” Blood wasn’t pouring out of the cut across her forehead, but she was bleeding. I reached for her. Lowered her head into my lap. I combed my fingers through her hair.
“Josh,” Dave said. “Drive.”
Josh threw up
an arm over Dave’s seat, checked behind us as he backed away from the totaled Lexus and Malibu. He dropped it into drive and side-swiped two zombies as we continued on south toward my apartment. “We need to get back over to Mt. Read?”
“Might be easiest,” I said. “I live of
f Stone, at the Ridge. Behind that Rite Aid.”
“I know the complex.”
He maneuvered the BMW onto the sidewalk. The street packed with disabled vehicles, bodies and zombies made it impossible to navigate safely.
“I hate to say this,” Josh said.
“Then maybe now isn’t the time,” I said.
“Things are bad.”
“You hate to say that? That ‘things are bad’? Sorry I’d interjected. Say away,” I said.
“No. I mean bad. Like . . . Jason was the last living person we’ve seen in a while. You guys and Jason. That’s three other people,” he said.
“Most people were vaccinated,” I said. “They pushed that shot at every grocery store and doctor’s office. I know where we work they almost demanded you get it. It’s what made me positive I wouldn’t. Now look at us. Now look where we are.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Look at us. This is life, our life now.”
“You think getting the shot would have been the right thing?” Josh said.
“Sure as shit would have been the easier thing, don’t you think? I mean, seriously. How long are we supposed to go on like this? Let’s say we do make it to Mexico. You and I talked about this. There might not be an un-infected area in the US. In the world. Who knows,” I said.
“I said things were bad. I didn’t say hopeless. I didn’t mean to imply giving up. I’m just apprehensive about moving forward,” Josh said.
“What the fuck are you talking about, moving forward?”
“Mexico, or Canada. Surviving in the elements. Looking for food. Hunting for food. I’m used to cell phones and movies. Driving cars and going out to eat. I never had money, but life wasn’t so bad.”
“We’re going to be okay,” Dave said. He clapped a hand onto his brother’s shoulder.
Dave smiled. “I know we will. Guess I’m just thinking out loud.”
“That’s a fire,” I said.
“I see it,” Josh said. “If it was daytime, we’d of seen the smoke all the way
from your ex’s, I’m thinking.”
Allison sat up. “That all from the houses over on Mt. Read. We must be a few miles south still. Has it been burning all this time?”
“No one to put it out. Houses are close together,” I said.
“The rain? That shoulda helped,” Dave said.
“It should have, but--”
A tire blew. Sounded like a gun shot, or an explosion. I knew it was the tire when Josh gripped the steering wheel with both hands and fought for control of the car, turning into the skid as we careened back onto the road, and slammed into, of all things, a black Navigator.