Children of the Dead, page 16
David stepped back out into the sunlight. The feeling of being observed was more powerful than ever. He heard a distant barking of dogs. The pets of Harmony were cut loose much like himself. The children were left to fend for themselves.
He could see downtown proper a few hundred yards away. The water tower rose above all proclaiming Harmony, GA. “voted #12 best small town living – 2007”. He laughed at the sign and the money it had taken to advertise Harmony as twelfth best of anything.
He entered town walking down the center of the street, constantly checking his flank every few seconds. There were only two cars visible on the street at this end of downtown. He peered into the first, a ‘92 Camry, but there were no keys. The other car was a pickup truck, which had gone off the road and hit a postal drop box. Letters were scattered in a halo from the impact. The truck’s driver’s door was open and a hand hung loosely from cab. David crossed around for a better view, repeating to himself that he was only going to look for keys and ignore anything else. That was easier said than done. A young woman had been chewed up where she lay. A mass of blood clotted, dark hair obscured her face. This time there were still keys, but they were in the engage position. The gas gauge sat on empty.
The sun beat down mercilessly overhead. The Southern Bank and Trust of Harmony on the other side of the square flashed 1:58. Every store in the town square was destroyed and barren. The More or Less appeared to have eaten a police car and choked. Glass fragments glittered all over the blacktop. A few bodies lay about, most destroyed beyond any hope of recognition. David doubted that he would find a working car so easily. Harmony was destroyed and stripped to the bone. They all might be stuck in the Campbell house. That’s assuming he would even get back there alive.
David crossed the square, and still felt the eyes on him. He stopped every few feet and looked for any movement. He saw nothing. He approached the bank sign and turned to the building adjacent. He stared into the shattered edifice of the Harmony police station. Very small, like the town it protected. Inside was a war zone. Desks and chairs formed a weak defensive wall four feet into the place. It looked like it had been pressed against the window. The wall had failed and after that, it had been a free-for-all. Blood covered almost everything, black and hard. David could pick out at least four bodies lying beyond the barricade, one in uniform. On the sidewalk outside, there lay several corpses in various states of decay. The last stand by the cops had blown out much of the front of the building in a hail of shotgun blasts. David pulled the gun from his jeans and stepped gingerly through the bodies and then over the threshold of the station. Here goes nothing.
He was struck by a stench of decay as thick and solid as a wall. David stepped back outside retching violently. Clearly, this was the part that was left out of the movies. He steeled himself and closed off his nose, a little talent he could hold for some time. The first step back inside came down on loose shards of glass which cracked loudly on the silent afternoon. He picked his way carefully over the barricade and stood at the feet of a policeman’s corpse. The gun holster was empty and there was nothing in its hands. In fact, its hands had been chewed off to the elbow. A foot away lay two more dead, one lying on top of the other. Their heads were destroyed, with little clue as to their original identity. The body of a woman was the last visible corpse, sprawled across a desk with her throat torn out and the rest of her partially eaten. As David passed her, he saw the throat wound was not the cause of death. A bullet hole sat squarely between her eyes, bloodless and neat.
At the back of the main hall were two offices and a door marked “The Tank.” Another policeman lay dead against this door. He had been eviscerated and used for a buffet from the looks of it. David glanced again to the gun holster; also empty. The offices were barren with most of the contents thrown out for the barricade. There was a gun locker left behind in one office. It was open and empty. Someone took these weapons after all this went down, he thought.
The air inside the building was putrid and rot was starting to penetrate David’s defenses. His gag reflex fired up again as he caught a whiff of his surroundings. Quickly, he made his way back towards the front of the station and fresher air.
As he stepped back out into the hall, the watched feeling returned. Every hair on the back of David’s neck stood upright. He would have thought the reaction overly paranoid if it weren’t for the zombie watching him from the street outside. He caught the slight change in light out of the corner of his eye and jerked his head around. The zombie was gray-skinned but largely intact. David could make out the words “Heavy Haulin’” on its shirt. It stood perfectly still, the head cocked to the side. Could it even see David in the darkened interior? It didn’t matter. David pulled the gun up shakily and pointed it at Earl’s head. The range was about twenty-five feet give or take, but given his sweaty palms and quivering hands, David doubted his odds at a headshot. He began to walk slowly forward until he had the shot. Earl did not move. David closed the distance to fifteen feet or so, felt for the trigger and started to squeeze.
Stroll
Jodi awoke on a bed upstairs. She had fallen asleep in David’s room, mostly to avoid her sister. The afternoon sun punched at the blanketed window above her head, giving a colored glow to everything. A corner of the blanket had come loose. She stared at the slit of light and raised a hand to feel the heat from the beam that streaked through. Pain in her hands started screaming and she saw the angry red wounds in the spotlight. She cradled them to her chest and the throbbing ache passed slowly. She replayed the last few days in her mind: her father, the days alone and hiding, David and Tommy. Five days in that house and she could remember every long minute.
She longed to go outside. Her life had always been simple enough: school, her family, some community sponsored sports and lots of day-dreaming. She spent countless hours in the woods behind this very house as a little girl, wandering but never lost. There was a native spring back there, about a quarter of a mile from the edge of the back yard clearing. It had been her place. She loved the quiet and freedom she found there when she was hurt or lonely. Jessica would never follow her. At so young an age her little sister was scared to death of everything: the buzzing insects and the frogs that would splash into the pool at your approach. Jodi so wanted to be there now, and more than that, she wanted to tell her father she loved him and that she forgave him for his weaknesses. That desire surprised even her. The hate was gone, bled out onto that end table at the front door. In the new world before her, Jodi wanted her simple life back. She rolled out of bed and reattached the blanket’s fallen corner.
The downstairs was a little cooler in the waning afternoon, but only marginally. She found Tommy with a nearly complete jigsaw puzzle lying on the kitchen floor. One of her grandmother’s old escapes. The image on the floor was familiar to her, a medieval castle intact save for a jagged hole in its outer wall still to be assembled. Tommy didn’t acknowledge her presence.
“I remember this puzzle,” she said. “Maw-Maw and I used to do these together.”
No response from Tommy. Jodi sat down on the floor beside him and tried a different tactic. She scanned the remaining loose pieces, seized upon an appropriate one, and fit it into place. Her hand came away leaving a slight red smear on the castle’s outer defenses.
“You got bwood on it.” Now Tommy gave her his attention.
“Sorry, Tommy.” She thought it best not to beat around the bush. “I really freaked you out, didn’t I?” Tommy nodded. He looked at her then, but timidly, as if he expected her to flip out at any moment. “I am very sorry. I…have a lot of things inside me, things that needed to come out. Do you understand?”
“I think so,” Tommy said. “You were so mad. You wooked wike her.” He jerked his head upwards indicating Jessica. The other girl had yet to make her presence known that morning and that was always for the best.
“Well, the Campbell sisters are crazy, haven’t you heard?” Jodi laughed and something about the edge in that sound made Tommy lean away from her. “Okay. I promise not to flip out like that again. I need you, Tommy.” She decided on an out-dated sexist ploy but fuck it, he was just a kid. “You’re the man of the house now.” He did visibly perk up at the comment. “If I get in trouble, I trust you to be there. So do you have my back?” She almost stuck out her swollen, wounded hand, but thought that might be a deal breaker.
“I have youw back.” He gave a smile, a little strained and turned back the puzzle.
“Thanks, Tommy.” She turned to the stairs—one more inmate in the asylum to check in on.
*****
“You aren’t going to do a thing to help him are you?” Jessica spit out the question as soon as Jodi opened the bedroom door. The older girl jumped at the harsh sound of her sister’s voice.
“What are you talking about?”
Jessica stood firmly in the far corner of the room, wedged into the spot where the two walls met. Blanketed windows were to the right and left of her. The little girl was a mess. She had not bathed in days and the smell permeated the closed bedroom. Jodi had not thought it to be so bad while she shared the room. Now that she wasn’t acclimated, the odor was nauseating. There was something else in there as well.
“Jessica, did you pee in this room?” Jodi’s voice hit a shaking, high pitch and it was a struggle to maintain control. Her patience with her sister had run out with the fall of polite society.
“I had to, Jodi. I had to go really bad. None of you wants me here. That little bastard hit me! You did nothing but ignore me! After I tried to help our daddy.”
“Bastard?” Jodi had never heard such language from Jessica. “You tried to kill us. So go ahead, this room is your toilet then and don’t you dare leave it.” Jodi, disgusted turned to the door.
“He’s in the storm cellar, isn’t he?”
Jodi’s breath caught tight. How on earth did she know? Jodi had narrowed it down to that one possibility if he had survived that first night. He had run and locked himself inside. Their father had not returned and there was no food or water in there. He would be dead or worse. “Jessica, why do you think that?”
“There’s nowhere else to go and he wouldn’t leave me.” Jessica smiled with a sly and sinister twist of her lips. “He stayed close by me, but he’s trapped and needs our help.”
“Maybe he is in the storm cellar,” said Jodi. “We can’t get there to find out.”
“Can’t we, sissy?” Jessica stretched out an arm to either side and grabbed a handful of the blanket shades they had put in place.
“No, Jessica! They can see—“
The little girl yanked, making an excited yelp as the blankets were torn away. Jodi was blinded by the flood of afternoon light into the dim interior. She quickly stepped back against the wall, deathly still and holding a hand to her face against the stars behind her eyelids.
“Take a good, long look. I’ve been peeking,” said Jessica, the confession as innocent as if she had seen Christmas presents early. “There’s nothing out there. You can go outside and find daddy. Look.” Jodi’s eyes grew somewhat accustomed to the light, but her head still turned away. “LOOK!” Jessica’s order came as a mean and commanding presence.
Jodi did. She saw a hint of the backyard, green and sunlit. She took a step closer to the window and peered out. There were no zombies in the backyard. The storm cellar was there, closed tight and unassuming.
“Jessica,” she said, “If daddy locked himself in there days ago and has not come out, then he is dead. Listen to me. He is dead or he is a…a boogeyman.” Jessica looked sharply at Jodi.
“No, he is not,” was all the response Jessica needed. Then the “crazy” little girl turned cleverer still. “He came for us that night. He didn’t have to. We could have been a boogeyman too and he came anyway. You should go out there and check on him, Jodi…just for a minute. You should go now while they’re not around. I have to stay up here like you said. I might do something bad.” Jessica did not smile or plead. She was straightforward and logical. Jodi’s gorge rose, real fear clutching at her heart. Not due to the thought of going outside, but at the argument before her. Jessica was right. Her words were chilling and true. The girl scared the absolute shit out of Jodi.
No words came to mind in retort, no counter argument. Jodi needed busy work and immediately set about resetting the blankets over both windows. There were no further words exchanged. The last pin was pressed into place and Jodi stood before her sister, still nestled into the room’s corner. Again, Jodi was lost, as nothing she could say would make more sense than the proposal before her. There was something she could do, however, and it chilled her even more that she wanted to do it. She could go out to the storm cellar and call their daddy. She could give the old doors a slight knock, and if there was no immediate response, back inside she would go. The sisters stared at each other, the knowledge of what was next almost the same for each of them. Jessica knew that her sister would finish the task she had tried before, to go and search out their missing father. Jessica’s smile was demonic. Jodi knew the same though with a slightly different reaction. She pulled back and put the flat of her palm across Jessica’s head with a loud pop. The girl’s head smacked the adjacent wall and she slid down to the floor dazed. Jodi even thought she heard the sound of a whimper as she left the room.
*****
Tommy was gone, the puzzle still unfinished. She hadn’t heard him come upstairs but he had surprised her more than once with his ability to sneak around. The small window beside the back door peeked out from behind the board covering it. The defense came down with effort and fresh agony in her hands. The pain was ignored. All Jodi could see was warmth and sunshine.
The backyard was infinitely more inviting than the house. She glanced around the yard for any sign of motion and pushed open the window, allowing her head to stick out. The warm summer breeze rushed over her face and through her hair. The air was crisp and smelled of pine; the smell of fall pressing against the back of summer. She remained this way for some time, her eyes closed and a silent prayer on her lips. I know what I’m about to do is incredibly stupid but I have…. I need to. She brought her hand back through the window, hesitated for only a moment and pulled her body up and out of the frame. Behind, the tiny portal was left open, just a crack.
The breeze on her body was fantastic. For the first time in nearly a week, she felt freedom. She remained still for several seconds, listening for any movement and ready to bolt back inside. All was still. Just walk over to the storm cellar and call for him. A simple task, even you should be able to handle it.
She was soon out into the open yard where the surrounding trees left a crooked hexagon of afternoon sunlight on the grass below. Off to her left was the tree swing. A single, worn length of rope ran up to a branch of the great oak tree standing by the edge of the forest. It was barely hanging in there these days—creaky, the cut metal disk used for a seat rusty. Both Jodi and Jessica had been warned away from it in the last few years.
She looked across at the yard’s edge. There was a glimpse of red paint visible on the down slope, the storm cellar doors. Just go. Walk to it. It’s right there. She crossed to the swing instead. A battered hand grabbed the old rope of the swing and held on. Her feet would go no further. She wanted to know if her daddy was okay, but she did not want him back. She forgave him, but wanted no more to do with the man. Jodi wore the guilt of that thought in a grimace. There was more. I only want to get his car keys. That is all I need, those fucking keys! If he were still alive things might get worse for the survivors at Maw-Maw Campbell’s house. Her father was a controlling and dominating person. David and he would not get along at all. That’s all the man would be, trouble, as was always proven correct in his presence. He was a weak, abusive man.
Jodi’s thoughts swayed among her options and she lost the sense of where she was. She climbed onto rusty seat of the swing, following an action repeated through hundreds of visits to this house as a little girl. The rope popped and stretched with her weight to an uncomfortable extent but held. She began to rock lightly back and forth. She sought some evidence that he was worth rescuing and was deeply lost in thought.
The first image in her mind was of her father, behind her pushing the swing. The day continued to replay. Jessica’s infant giggles rang across the yard as the wind rushed past her ears. She laughed and flew, green sky and blue grass blurred in her vision.
Her father pushed her gently with his right hand while cradling a beer in his left. There was a picnic laid out on the old table, which had long ago rotted and been hauled away to the dump. Every swing back towards her father left her head full of his scent, layers of aftershave and Budweiser. The mix created a smell she had always distinctively associated with him. Her Grandmother had come out of the house with a plate of hamburger patties and hot dogs. Paw-Paw was not around. Was he dead by then?
It came time for the big finale. Jodi closed her eyes, released herself from the swing at the height of its arc and fell into nothing. Her smile beamed from her face, her heart in her throat, and she braced for the soft grass to meet her feet, carefree.
She never touched the ground. She was caught in her daddy’s embrace and cradled to the picnic lunch. Jodi remembered the gasp and laughter that followed. Most of all, it was the smell pushing her remembrance. She had loved her father as much as any child could articulate in hugs and constant kisses.
The wind rushed past her once again on that very swing, now some years later. She drew air deeply through her nose, searching for the scent that might give her comfort in this nightmare. Jodi could not yet accept that frightened shouting and dull gunshots heard through a closet door might be the last memory of her father. She would go to the cellar and find him.
