Family Reunion "J" (15 page)

The shrieking began about two hours after the sun went down. Julian was a little bit surprised. He thought that they were far enough away from the city that there wouldn’t be many of the turned close by. He was clearly mistaken.

They kept Julian awake most of the night, attacking the house in waves. He concluded that every so often a pack would pass close enough to catch their scent. Then they would try desperately to get into the house. During the fourth or fifth attack, Julian heard them make it into the house. He pulled Simon a little closer and hoped they’d make it through the night. He had never been one that believed in a higher power, but right then he sent out a prayer to any takers asking for help.

The door at the top of the stairs was as old as the house and had a crack an inch wide at the bottom. The stomping footfalls were chaotic, but when they started shrieking right outside the door Simon woke and would have screamed had his father not covered his mouth.

“No Simon, you must be quiet,” Julian whispered fiercely. He got up and pulled the old revolver from the bag in which he had stored it. He heard the sniffing under the door in between the loud shrieks. He stood at the bottom of the stairs and waited.

He stood like that for the rest of the night, certain that those poor souls on the other side of the door knew it was he who was responsible for turning them into the base creatures they now were. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew they could communicate telepathically. While his wife was still alive after turning, she could induce a rage in his assistant Eddie, who turned also while in a different room. He had observed this by watching both while monitoring them during his efforts to return them to normal. Also, while she was still somewhat coherent, his wife had screamed at him that Angelina was scared and that she wanted her mommy.

All these thoughts swirled around in his head as he waited for the door to burst open and for the turned to exact their revenge. Were it not for his promise to Simon, and his need to rectify his mistake by delivering the data to those who might be able to reverse the vaccine’s effects, he would simply put the revolver in his mouth and end it.

The smell of the ocean wafted with the soft breeze that blew Auddy’s hair across her face. She pulled the hair back behind her ear and smiled at Danny, who held her hand as they walked down the beach. She loved the beach. Although Danny could take it or leave it, he would come with her when she wanted him to.

Danny pulled her into an embrace and kissed her as the waves sucked the sand from beneath their feet. “I have to go now,” he said wistfully.

“What are you talking about? Go where? The clubhouse is a wreck—no one’s going to show up for golf lessons.”

He pulled away from her and walked out into the surf.
That’s odd, he’s going to get his clothes all wet.
“Danny, come back! Where are you going?”

He just smiled. “Gotta go Aud. I love you.” And with that he walked into the waves without looking back. She tried to chase him but her feet were stuck in the sand; she couldn’t move.

She woke gagging, no idea where she was. Then, seeing Doug lying in his own blood, she remembered it all in a flood. She tried to stand, but the morphine in her system sent her head reeling. She bent forward and gagged some more. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she turned to Danny.

He lay there, pallid and still. She moved to his side and put her hand to his forehead. He was cold. She felt his neck, looking for a pulse. She couldn’t feel one. Normally you would assume at this point that this person was dead. He wasn’t; he was in a diabetic coma. Her grandfather had been a diabetic and she knew. Danny was not dead, or so she desperately wanted to believe. She put her head against his chest. It moved, ever so slightly, but it moved, and she could hear a faint heartbeat. She searched his pockets for his glucose meter to test his blood. It wasn’t there. It must be in the truck.

She didn’t know if his sugar was extremely high or extremely low, but she had to make sure before trying to treat him. If she guessed wrong it would kill him. Most of the time when he’d get goofy she knew it was low, but she couldn’t risk pouring a sugary drink into him until she was sure. And if it was high, she needed his insulin pen from the truck too. She didn’t even know if it was dark or light outside, and her pistol was out of ammunition. The truck was outside, just ten feet from the back door, but she also couldn’t risk going outside without any bullets.

She went to Doug’s body. She carefully searched it and found his keys. She picked up her pistol and went back to Danny. “Danny, if you can hear me, I have to get your meter and pen. I’ll be right back. Don’t you dare die on me!”

She went to the front of the building where the gun stuff was and found the ammunition in the safe. She went through four keys before finding the right one and then it took her another few minutes to find the correct caliber. She reloaded and shoved the rest of the box into her back pocket, then ran like hell for the back door.

When she got to the door, she slowed. Opening it just a crack, she saw Charlie lying where he fell. The pool of light wasn’t bright, but it encompassed the truck they’d liberated from the golf course. She listened closely for any sign that there were zombies around. With no shrieks to be heard, she quietly pushed through the doorway and unlocked the door, double-checking to make sure she wasn’t going to have to fumble for keys on her way back in.

The air was still heavy, the day’s humid heat only partially diminished. Her shirt immediately clung to her as sweat began pouring from her. The sweat wasn’t from the heat as much as it was from the absolute fear that gripped her. She gave herself a little pep talk as she prepared to make a run for the truck.
Come on Auddy, you can do this.

She counted down in her head.
Three, two, one, go!
Nevertheless, her feet remained frozen to the ground. Her muscles ached from the tension building in them.
Come on Auddy, you’re making a big deal out of this for no reason. Just walk over, open the door, get what you need, and casually walk back to the shop.
She heard a shriek that sounded like it was coming from out front. She shook herself from the paralyzing fear and walked the ten feet to the truck.

She opened the door, her heartbeat the only thing she could hear, reached in, and grabbed Danny’s pack. She turned toward the building, coming face-to-face with a mottled zombie as it came around the corner.

She dropped the bag and raised her pistol. The report was not nearly as loud out here in the open as it was inside. She must have missed with the first couple of shots because the thing kept coming. She pointed the gun down more and squeezed the trigger again. This time the zombie fell, coming to rest only a few feet away.

Auddy quickly bent to retrieve the bag when a second and then a third zombie came around the end of the building. Down on one knee, she shot the second one and saw the bullet rip through its head, sending brains splattering onto the next. She fired again, only to hear the pathetic click of the hammer landing on an empty chamber. She pulled the trigger a couple more times with the same sickening results. There was no way she would make it to the door. She turned and dove onto the seat of the truck. She leaned up to grab the door to close it, but it was too late. The zombie crashed into the opened door and turned toward Auddy. Somewhere deep inside her, an indignant voice said,
Screw this!
She leaned back and kicked the thing square in the chest. It landed on its ass and started scrambling around to get up. Auddy grabbed the door and slammed it shut, then frantically began trying to reload her pistol. She momentarily forgot to pull the release and the chamber wouldn’t come open. The zombie regained its footing and hurled itself against the window, shrieking out its frustration. Auddy flinched so badly that she dropped the pistol. She ducked down to search the floor of the cab and the window exploded inward. The bits of glass now covered her and the floor where she continued to feel for the gun. She ignored the cuts she was getting and finally felt the grip of the pistol. The zombie was about a quarter of the way into the cab and she began kicking it again. She got one bullet into the round thingy and locked it back in place. The zombie, half its body now through the window, had caught ahold of her foot and was struggling to bite her. She pointed the gun at its head and pulled the trigger. It clicked, she pulled it again, it clicked again, she pulled it one more time and it fired. The bullet struck her foot and continued through her shoe to slap into the open mouth of the zombie. It fell limp on the seat and Auddy escaped out the driver’s door. She grabbed the bag, hobbled around the front of the truck, and made for the building.

Once inside with the door locked, she fell to the floor and rolled onto her back, her breath coming in great gasps. After a few minutes, she got to her feet and went to Danny. Her hands still shaking from the adrenalin, she pricked his finger and put the spot of blood onto the test strip, inserted the strip into the tester, and waited. The tester’s LED blinked a couple of seconds and then flashed “43.” That was extremely low. Auddy grabbed the orange soda she had scavenged from the fridge. She held Danny’s head up and poured the sugar-laden drink into his mouth a little at a time.

“Come on Danny, swallow this, it will help. Come on baby.” She hadn’t cried for at least a few hours and fought to hold back the tears as she managed to get some of the pop down him. She looked down at her foot and saw blood. The bullet had grazed the inside of her left foot; it went inside the collar of the shoe and created a three-inch line from her ankle to the bottom of her instep, nothing more than an annoyance. It blew a hole in bottom of the shoe and the top of the zombie’s head. “You’re going to have to take me shoe shopping after this, Danny.”

The shrieking ceased about an hour before sunrise. Julian continued to stand at the bottom of the steps, making sure the turned had left for good. He could see the sun peeking through the cracks of the board he had hammered over the window. He had to urinate; he pried the boards off the door and quietly made his way through the kitchen, went down the porch stairs, and peed. He made his way back to the basement and locked the door behind himself. He thought about nailing the boards up again, but with the turned gone, he didn’t see the need. He went and lay down next to Simon on the old mattress. He needed to get at least a few hours’ sleep before continuing into Atlanta. He set the alarm on his watch to wake him at nine a.m. Sleep took him almost immediately.

He dreamed of his wife and daughter. They were on a picnic at one of their favorite state parks. His wife was laughing as he and Angelina were having a tickle fight. The small girl also laughed with glee, protesting between giggles that she was on his side. Whenever Julian and the kids wrestled on the floor, it would always start with his two children teaming up to take him on. Soon after it started and he had both in fits of laughter as he tickled them, Angelina would turn on her brother and announce, “I’m on daddy’s side.” It was her way of dealing with being on the losing end of the fight. Simon, however, would never give in. He would remain resolute and continue to fight back. Sometimes it worried Julian that Simon would never acquiesce; no matter how securely Julian had him pinned, he would refuse to surrender. Sometimes in life, the only way to survive was to retreat, and it appeared that Simon didn’t see it that way.