Children of the Dead, page 9
“I want to cover Momma up,” Tommy said.
“I need something to sit on. The seat’s not exactly… clean. Do you have another blanket or even newspaper?”
“No,” replied Tommy, then added, “Momma tewls me to get tough when I don’t wanna do somethin’. Get tough, David.”
“Right. Get tough. Got it.”
David pulled the keys and checked the trunk while Tommy pulled out the edge of the blanket to cover his mother’s body. The trunk was nearly empty save for a spare tire, a jack, and a couple of old chick gossip magazines. These were better options than sitting in blood or on urine stained floor mats.
The inspection turned to the front end. The hood wouldn’t even open and the damage looked pretty severe. They needed a miracle right now. David only wanted a handful of miles out of the thing and then it could be laid to rest along with its previous owner. It took several hitching and grinding turns of the ignition to grant the engine life. It sounded shoddy at best and immediately the temperature gauge began to rise to uncomfortable heights in the hot Georgia afternoon.
“Fingers crossed, Tommy. Toes too.”
There was a loud crinkling of glossy magazine paper under David’s ass as he lowered himself onto “10 reasons why he’s cheating” and a recipe for a low calorie French Pasta Salad. Tommy climbed reluctantly into the passenger seat and pulled his knees to his chin as if he wanted to touch as little of the car as possible. He stole a couple of glances back at the draped form of his mother.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” David said and put the car into a U-turn. He sprayed gravel everywhere as the tire caught the edge of County Rd 11 and reluctantly, the Taurus took them away.
*****
In retrospect, locking up the tires of the Taurus in a smoking, squealing stop was the worst possible thing that could have happened. David and Tommy had been flying down County Rd 11 towards Harmony, which was empty except the motionless vehicles, some on the shoulder and some in the ditch. All had been through hell. David noted the crushed front ends and shattered windshields ringed with dried gore. These had gone off the road at top speed and usually lay on their rooftops or side. If the ensuing crash had not killed the occupants then, shortly after, something else had. There were no signs of survivors and more disconcerting, there were no bodies. It appeared that CR 11 had hosted a successful recruiting drive for team zombie.
The Taurus had only made about a couple of miles when the 18-wheeler appeared around a corner. It was parked in the right lane with its trailer slantways, blocking the entire road. There were long black marks on the asphalt where it had some to a screeching halt and one very skillful (or lucky) driver had kept it from jackknifing.
The screeching tires roused seven or eight shambling dead, which approached the car like desperate panhandlers. David checked his options. The roadside ditch here was deep and it was unlikely the Taurus could make a fast enough flight to avoid the truck, the ditch and the dead on one path. The temp needle of the engine was already at red and the car idled in fits and starts.
“Put your seat belt on, Tommy. Get your knees down, sit straight, and put it on,” David snapped. He pushed Tommy’s drawn knees down and reached across the boy to grab the belt. Tommy was quiet, staring at the approaching zombies, and made no move to help David secure him. The nearest zombie was only a few feet away. It was once an old woman, long dead and buried, walking with outstretched arms. David fumbled twice and finally clicked Tommy’s belt home just as the woman touched the hood. She immediately started around to the missing passenger window. David grabbed for his own belt, spewing a stream of “Fucks” into the air for not buckling up in the first place.
David gave his belt one good rip as the woman’s arm began to reach in the window. The belt did not click home. He shouted in rising frustration. He grabbed the shifter and popped it up into reverse a moment before jamming in the gas. The car shot backwards from the encroaching mob and right into another. David looked into the rearview to guide his progress at the same instant two flesh eaters bounced horrifically off the back of the car.
“Oh shit!”
David slammed on brakes again. He was at a loss. Where had all of these damn things come from? It was as if they were lying in wait for an ambush. There was no obvious place to go. On either side of the car was a drainage ditch, too deep for a Taurus to get in and then out again. A large embankment climbed out of the ditch to his right. To his left was some pasture land with no discernible—and then he saw it through a break in the front wave of zombies. It was a grassy pathway laid down in the drainage ditch with earth over a pipe. The landowner had once used it to get across that ditch and into his field. David was about to follow suit and swore silently for the Taurus to have actually been built Ford tough.
A black, mutilated hand grabbed the frame of the windowless passenger door. Tommy screamed at the sound of meat slapping metal. The hand belonged to a man, recently in midlife and normal in every way except for the lack of skin on his face below the nose. His eyes were clear with a gaze that could have belonged in a living skull. His teeth clicked in anticipation of the kill and he gurgled somewhere back in that shredded maw.
David and Tommy both unleashed a terrified scream. David slammed down on the accelerator and the Taurus plowed through the zombies in front. Granny Zombie was the first to go down. The Taurus actually jumped as her body fell under the front tires. David wheeled the car left and right through the horde shouting out an extra “fuck you.” He was completely petrified.
It was a tight fit between the rear of the trailer and the ditch. The Taurus clipped the rear guard of the trailer with a smash. David jerked the wheel left and shot across the raised earth of the drive-in entrance. The smooth sounds of tires on pavement changed to a chaotic thumping and rustling as the Taurus bounded across the field.
The Taurus rocked violently with every landing, jostling left and right like a boat on rough seas. The engine temperature needle jumped completely into the red. Three times, David smacked his head on the roof of the car, each instance reminding him that only dummies never buckle their safety belt. He burst out in broad laughter at that thought. Tommy stared at him in fear and disbelief.
Thirty yards ahead, the pastureland rose to a crest. This was a terrace row built into the land by a farmer in some past world. The steeply-sloped row formed a spine running across the broad field and the Taurus was fast approaching it; too fast as David had not relented on the gas pedal. He had designs to either jump it or plow through. The idea occurred to him that slowing down would be preferable but his foot would not agree. He reached back once more and grabbed for the safety belt, this time clicking it home in one smooth motion. He registered this slick little piece of luck with a broad smile over wide, panicked eyes and then the car hit the row.
The Taurus shot straight up in the air. For an instant, all that the two occupants could see was blue sky until gravity took its share. The impact was bone-jarring, but the seatbelts performed. The Taurus seemed to fall apart at once. The engine came to a rattling stop and the right front tire blew out with a loud Pop. The car rolled a few feet and stopped dead. Smoke poured from under a crumpled hood and the sounds of a country afternoon returned slowly to their ears.
*****
“David, wet’s go!” Tommy screamed. “They’re coming!”
The younger boy had already unlatched his seat belt and was tugging on the door handle. David came around slowly. He just felt tired and achy.
“Just let me catch my breath, Tom. Can I call you Tom?” David croaked.
Tommy turned and unlatched David’s seatbelt. He gave David a slight shove and turned back to his door. In one motion, he slipped out the window and fell into the field.
The shove got David moving but it was all slow motion. David’s door opened without complaint and he fell out into the grass. The afternoon sun filled his eyes and he blinked. The light was piercing but further helped to clear his head. Tommy came around to the other side of the car and helped David to his feet.
“You know, the airbags didn’t even go.” David leaned against the car for support and gathered himself. He looked back across the field and saw them. There were at least thirty zombies moving from the road and directly at them.
“Where do we go?” Tommy asked.
Tommy scanned the area. The field was very large but ringed with thick forest on three sides. The road formed the fourth.
“I don’t know. Anywhere.” David shook his ringing skull. “Downtown’s that way. We’ll stay close to the road if we can but we have to go into the woods. There’ll be more houses that way… closer to town.” And more zombies, he thought. His plan to get to town now seemed heavily flawed. David leaned in the car and grabbed the bloodied bat.
Tommy peered in the back window at his mom’s corpse. It had come uncovered in the accident. David tried to pull the boy away.
“I’m sorry Tommy, but we’ve got to go. We can’t bury her now.” David gave his shoulder another tug and Tommy threw off his hand.
“I know,” Tommy sobbed. “Bye, Momma. I wove you. I’wl see you in heaven.”
“Come on, Tommy. Wherever she is, it’s a lot better than right here.” David took his hand and they started across the field.
*****
Ten minutes later they entered the forest and the shadows pressed in tight. It was late afternoon and although autumn, the woods stubbornly held onto most of its thick summer canopy. These woods had not been chopped down, burned over, or replanted in a hundred years. The forest floor was spacious, devoid of excessive briars, weeds, or clinging kudzu. Their feet crunched on twigs and a carpet of leaves and pine needles. The only sounds were birdsong and a soft wind in the pines.
“How long till night?” Tommy asked.
“Not long,” David said. “Too soon.”
A Time to Hide
Back at the Campbell house, the thing on the porch had paced loudly all of that day and into dusk. Jodi and Jessica had gone through the couple of cans of food she had brought up the day before and the hunger returned. Jodi’s pangs led to a twisting stomach ache and still she would not dare go downstairs. Jessica whined for food and was assured that none would be coming. Better to go without then become a snack for something else, Jodi reasoned. Deep into the afternoon, as the two girls experienced a troubled sleep, even the fear of the boogeyman lost its power against a starving body.
Jodi thrashed about on the bed, sweaty, dreaming. Her mother sat beside her, smoothing the wet curls of hair from her daughter’s eyes.
“Mom? Where’s Jessica?”
“Shhhh,” Barbara Campbell replied. “Why do you take so much on yourself, Jodi? Why do you care so much?” Jodi gave no reply and just lay back in the hot bedroom. She closed her eyes to enjoy a mother’s caress.
“Mom, where are you?” Jodi asked. “I need you.”
“I’ve tried to call you, but things,” Barbara paused. “It’s real bad here in Atlanta. No one was prepared for this.”
“I know, mom,” Jodi said. Then she remembered and burst out with, “I think Daddy’s hurt and trapped in the storm cellar. I don’t know what to do.”
“Don’t do anything. He got you out of town; he gave you this place to stay. He’s done. He’s done enough.” Barbara’s words were harsh at the end. Her face was slack, defeated and Jodi saw her mother’s fatigue and her limit. Barbara wore this expression the day she packed up and drove to Atlanta. At first, it was just to stay with a sister. Shortly afterward, it was permanent along with a divorce, a new job, and sporadic visits with her girls. Barbara had had enough of that life and even a mother’s love could not trump the will to escape.
Why did Jodi love this woman so much? She had abandoned two children with promises of “temporary” and “you can come live with me soon.” Barbara continued her pledges even as she started the engine and drove from Harmony for good, wearing the same stony look on her face. There had been calls and emails, more promises and assurances. Even as Barry had poisoned Jessica’s mind against their mother, Jodi stood fast, the promises carrying the weight of all hope. Barbara deserved her hatred, but the daughter could find no more to give.
“I love you, mom. I miss you.”
“I know, baby.”
“I can’t do this anymore,” Jodi said. “I can’t take care of her. I can’t be around him either. I am done.” Jodi sat up with conviction. “I want to be with you.”
“You want to leave it all behind?”
“Yes,” said Jodi. And then whispered, “please.”
“You’ll get your chance.” Barbara gave her daughter a warm hug. Jodi smelled the perfume and the gentle lotion her mother applied religiously to her face. “Smoothes out the miles and give you ten years back,” she had liked to say, helping the adolescent Jodi apply a generous layer to her already baby smooth skin.
“Jessica is a handful,” Barbara continued. “We knew something wasn’t right about her from the day we brought her home from North Georgia General. She scared me from the crib and your father just walked away from it. It was just you and I, Jodi. You were my angel, helping mommy with her burdens.”
“I’m still helping.” Jodi breathed deep of her mother and held tight.
“You are. The world is different now. Society doesn’t matter anymore and you can make choices unthinkable just a week ago. Remember that when the choice comes. You can walk away and no one will think less of you for it. Your burdens can finally be all your own.”
It was only a dream, of course, and Jodi realized that. It had been over five months since mother and daughter had really embraced, even then short and polite. Afterwards, Jodi felt more bitterness than comfort. Not now. Even in a dream, the moment between them was precious and the hug impenetrable. Jodi held on.
*****
The evening came on the heels of the sun’s dying glow. They had only made a mile or so by best guess. David kept a slow pace and was on constant vigil. He was concerned about getting lost and had continued to cross to his right periodically as the road would mark their farthest boundary. He reproached himself after realizing that most of the decisions he had made throughout this entire zombie shitstorm had been foolish and overly dangerous. It was not too late to take a different approach.
“Cut me some fucking slack,” he whispered to no one.
“What? You see one?” Tommy asked.
“No, just talking to myself. Maybe we should go back to the road. I think we’re too deep in these woods to find a house out here. I don’t see shit.”
David looked to the fractured sky through the breaks in the tree cover. “Let’s go faster. If you hear or see anything… well, don’t panic. Just let me know quietly.” Unless it’s running right for us, then scream all you want. I’ll join you.
It was getting difficult to see where, exactly, they were placing their footsteps. There might be a break up ahead signifying CR 11, but it might just be another plot of pasture land. David turned and glanced back over Tommy’s head the way they had come. The forest was a constant shadow, amorphous and dense. Something moved in the dark about twenty yards behind them. It might have been twenty yards or twenty feet. David was a terrible judge of distance and the gloom was no help. He paused again, reaching to grab Tommy and halt him as well. They stood there for at least a minute, but nothing else stirred. David did not get a feeling of being watched, but he wouldn’t put it past those dead bastards not to give off that vibe, or whatever it was.
An ungodly roar went up from the underbrush to their left. It was pants-pissing close. This time, he grabbed Tommy, wrapped both arms around him, and fell in a crouch, his back against the base of a pine tree. There followed a loud crashing through the underbrush behind them followed by several monstrous shrieks. The forest was suddenly filled with the guttural bellowing of the dead. One throaty cry was answered by another and then yet another from further off.
“Oh God.” David said through clinched teeth.
“What’s happen—.”
David cupped a hand over Tommy’s mouth and held his breath. There was movement everywhere; too many footsteps to estimate the number. The moaning of the dead rose in intensity. The boys huddled against the tree, breathing at a crawl, and hearts pounding through the wails of the damned in their ears. David cursed his luck, his bad decisions, God, and whatever else he could conjure up. He had walked into a worst case scenario and he didn’t have one clue one how to get out of it.
A grunt followed by a heavy footstep sounded right behind them. They heard the thing step around the tree in its path. It placed a stinking hand on the tree, an inch above David’s head. Closer than that, a few errant split ends were caught under that rotten palm. David tried to relax everything, but his body was proving uncooperative. If he moved his head at all, the corpse might feel the motion. Fuck me. He didn’t know if they could feel at all and this was not the time to find out. Tommy’s and David’s eyes followed the trek of the zombie as it pushed itself off of the tree and away from them. In the darkness, David registered a hulking shape with loose fitting clothes, probably a burial suit. David didn’t dare a whisper of breath. It didn’t appear to notice them. They could be fucking around with us, David thought. They already know we’re here.
Tommy was shaking badly in his arms. David felt the kid was going to put out a buzzing sound if he didn’t calm down. His grip on the boy tightened.
Another corpse emerged from the dark ahead. It croaked a terrible sound and hammered the suited zombie with both fists, knocking it to the ground. In the mild moonlight, something glistened all over the beast’s head and shoulders. Blood. A fresh one. David remembered Todd Gooch from a morning he would swear had been days ago, but had actually been just this morning. Todd had been fast, vicious, and worst of all, cunning. The newly dead were brutal creatures and that was something to remember and to fear.
The creature roared and stomped on the chest of the downed zombie. There was a series of dry cracking sounds from the chest of the fallen. Tommy shuddered violently in David’s arm. The eyes of the newly dead must be as sharp as its reflexes because the zombie ceased its assault abruptly. It stared ahead, right at the tree where David and Tommy huddled. David took an arm off of Tommy and lowered it very slowly to the bat which lay at his side. He loosely gripped its handle, ready with sweaty palms to swing.
