Lakewood Memorial (13 page)

Angie pointed down and shot Freeda just
above the left eye. A large red hole appeared in Freeda's head and
Freeda slumped still.

"Oh god!" came Kristen's voice from the
front of the hall. Angie looked. Kristen stood there, Park behind
her. Mr. Paulson was out of sight somewhere behind them.

Kristen started to run in. Angie pointed the
gun at her.

"Stop! All of you stop!"

“
Oh god," said Kristen,
shaking and putting her hands to her mouth. "I'm so
sorry."

"You shut up! I should shoot you right
now!"

"I couldn't do it," said Kristen.
"Sam..."

Tears came faster now. "He was dead! I'm
sorry for that, but he was already dead!" She motioned with the gun
at Freeda's body. Her face still showed the fear and pain she had
died in. "This didn't have to happen!"

She looked down at Freeda for several
seconds. She drew in a breath and spun the gun around to face
herself. She put the barrel in her mouth.

Kristen stepped forward. "No!"

Angie took the rifle out of her mouth and
pointed it back at Kristen. "Stay back! There's nothing stopping me
from shooting you first!"

Kristen was crying. "Your kids..."

"My kids are dead, you stupid bitch. And so
am I."

She turned the rifle back on herself. She
put her mouth over the barrel. It was still warm from shooting
Freeda. She put her finger on the trigger.

The cell phone in Freeda's smock started
ringing.

Angie stopped and stared at Freeda's pocket.
She could see the phone flashing.

Kristen stood still at the front of the
hall, biting the ends of her fingers.

The phone kept ringing.

Angie slowly removed the gun from her mouth
and lowered it. She knelt down next to Freeda's body. Freeda stared
at her with empty eyes. Angie fished the cell phone from Freeda's
pocket. She opened it and answered.

"Hello?" she said.

"Mom?"

Maylee
.

* * *

Maylee stood in the middle of the street
just in front of what was left of her house. Dalton stood next to
her, looking scared but unhurt. She held her bat in one hand and
Brooke's cell phone in the other. She'd found it in the middle of
the yard, where Brooke appeared to have thrown it. That or she made
it out here, then went back into the house before ...

"Maylee?" said Mom's voice on the phone. "Oh
my god. Are you okay? Is Dalton okay?"

"We're both fine. We tried calling your
phone but it wouldn't answer. Finally I remembered Freeda's number.
Brooke..." Maylee paused and swallowed.

When she and Dalton had escaped the kitchen,
dropping the phone and ducking under the grasp of the corpses,
their first thought had been to run around to the front of the
house. That was the way Brooke had been running when they
separated, and that was where Brooke's screaming had come from.

And that's where they had found what was
left of Brooke. She had been torn open. Like a bag of meat and
organs. And those things, those corpses that somehow still walked
and ate, were crouching down next to her, pulling out hunks of her
and eating. They had looked vacantly at Maylee and Dalton as they
chewed.

"Why aren't they attacking us?" Dalton had
asked.

"Because they already have food," Maylee had
responded. "As soon as they run out, we'll be next."

Brooke's head had been the only recognizable
part of her left. Her hair spread out toward the sidewalk. Her open
eyes stared at Maylee and Dalton.

Maylee tried not to think of Brooke. Tried
to focus on Mom's voice on the phone. "They got her, Mom."

"Oh my god," said Mom, quietly. "Listen, you
have to get somewhere safe and hide."

"Nowhere's safe, Mom," said Maylee, walking
up the street. She looked into the windows of the cars parked along
the curb. Looking for something.

She found it.

"Maylee, you've got to..."

"Mom," said Maylee, cutting her off. "I have
to confess something to you."

Mom paused. "What are you talking
about?"

Maylee rubbed her hand on her forehead and
looked up and down the street. She could hear screaming and see
corpses wandering in the distance, but nothing close. The phone
beeped in her ear. She held it away from her face and looked. The
battery was dying. She sighed and put the phone back to her ear.
"You know my friend Stacy? We've been sneaking out her mom's car
from time to time. To practice driving."

"Maylee, you're fourteen!"

"I'm pretty sure I know that, Mom." She
rolled her eyes at Dalton. He was looking up and down the street,
looking scared. "And we don't have a lot of time right now,
Brooke's phone's dying."

"You brought it up. Why on earth are we
talking about this now?" asked Mom.

"Because someone left their keys in this
car," said Maylee, looking through the window. "And we're stealing
it."

"Maylee, you will do no such thing! The
police..."

"Have more important things to worry about.
We're coming to the hospital."

The phone beeped again and went dead.

* * *

Angie swore at the phone and dialed Brooke's
number. It rang and rang, but no answer. Either Maylee was ignoring
her or the phone had died like Maylee had said. She snapped the
phone shut and walked to the nurse's station.

Kristen was standing there, red faced and
crying. Park was standing with his arms crossed, rifle slung over
his shoulder. Mr. Paulson sat in his wheelchair, scowling about
something but keeping quiet.

"We going?" said Park.

"Yeah," said Angie. "We're going. We've got
to get to the parking lot as soon as possible. My kids are alive
and they're coming here."

"Oh thank god," said Kristen.

"You shut up," said Angie. "We're getting
out, I'm getting my kids and we're getting the hell out of
here."

"Works for me," said Park, shrugging. "Which
way we going?"

"Pick a hallway," said Angie, taking the
rifle from her shoulder and gripping it.

Nineteen

The corpses behind the glass doors writhed
and grasped at them. Park stared at them, rifle slung over his
shoulder. Why had he come back? What was he doing standing here
with these people? He could have been dead by now.

"You sure guns will be enough?" asked
Kristen, looking at Angie. "I'll have to push Dad."

"Glad someone thought of that," said Mr.
Paulson.

Angie looked at Kristen, then Mr. Paulson.
"Wait here." She slung the rifle over her shoulder and walked down
the hallway. Park noticed she walked around Sam and Freeda but
didn't look down.

"And what's on your deep ocean of a mind?"
said Mr. Paulson.

"How much you'll slow me down," said
Park.

Kristen scowled at him. Good. Last thing he
wanted was anymore fucking friends.

It would be so easy to just blow his head
off right now. Let them have one extra gun and one less person.
Easy.

Angie walked back in, pushing an electric
wheelchair. "Forgot we stored these in the back room."

Mr. Paulson snorted. "You mean I could have
had one of those fuckers all this time?"

"Sure looks that way," said Angie. She
pushed the chair until it was right next to Mr. Paulson.

"Here," she said, grabbing Mr. Paulson's
arm. Kristen grabbed the other one and they helped Mr. Paulson over
to the new chair.

Angie moved to switch the
oxygen tank from one chair to the other. She glanced at Kristen,
doting over her father. Kristen's face was red and taut. Full of
anguish. Angie's face briefly softened, but the look was quickly
gone.
Damn right,
thought Park.
Stupid bitch got her
friend killed
.

The tank done, Angie stepped over to the
front of the wheelchair. "Push the button here," she said,
pointing.

"I know how to do it," said Mr. Paulson,
pushing her hand away. He pushed a button on the right arm of the
chair and the joystick-like controller lit up. He pulled the
controller back and the chair lurched backward, almost hitting
Kristen.

"Whoopsie-daisy," said Kristen, her voice
raw and flat. She laughed but her eyes weren't in it. Park
considered offering to shoot her, but he chuckled and looked
away.

"What's so funny?" said Angie.

"Nothing," said Park. "Can we go anytime
soon?"

"Damn," said Kristen, looking at her hands.
Black grease from the wheelchair's underside was smeared across her
fingers.

"Better wash those," said Angie. "Don't want
to drop anything once we're out there."

Kristen walked over to the sink and turned
on the hot water. It sputtered, spit out a few drops, then stopped.
Kristen turned on the cold. Nothing.

"What's wrong?" said Angie, walking over.
Park followed, curious.

"Great, just great," said Kristen, wiping
her hands on her shirt. She sniffed and rubbed at one of her eyes.
Black smeared across her cheek. "The water's out."

"Something must have happened to the main,"
said Park. "All kinds of shit going on out there, it's a wonder the
lights haven't gone off for good yet."

Angie nodded. "Wait, if the water's off..."
She looked around at the ceiling. "Give me your lighter."

"I'm out of cigarettes," said Park. "Can't
help you there."

"Just the lighter," Angie said, not taking
her eyes off the ceiling.

Park shrugged. He fished out his lighter and
handed it to her.

Angie walked over to the nurse's desk and
climbed up onto it.

"What the holy fuck are you doing up there?"
said Mr. Paulson, wheeling himself over. "I thought dumbshit there
broke the ladder. And besides, how would I..."

"Now, Dad," said Kristen, walking over to
him. "Let's just see what she's doing." She sounded upbeat but her
voice was shaking.

Angie flicked the lighter on and held it up
to the nearest sprinkler. The sprinkler sputtered out a few drops
but otherwise did not respond.

Angie smiled. "If the water's off, then so
are the sprinklers." She tossed the lighter back to Park, then
jumped down off the desk. "And you said they don't like fire,
right?"

Park nodded. "Yeah, but we've just got the
one lighter."

"Two," said Mr. Paulson, fishing an
old-fashioned butane lighter from his hospital robe.

"Dad!" said Kristen. "What do you have that
for?"

"I use it to warm my balls, what the hell do
you think?" said Mr. Paulson.

Park looked at Mr. Paulson, then back to
Angie. "Okay then, two. Now we have twice the amount of jack shit
we had before."

"Wait here," said Angie, walking over to the
sink. She opened some cabinets and started rooting around.

Park looked over at Kristen and Mr. Paulson.
Kristen was doting and Mr. Paulson was sulking.

It would be so easy to shoot himself. But he
wanted to see what Angie had planned.

Angie pulled out a plastic jug of something.
Then two more. Then three more. She took one of the jugs and
carried it over.

"Rubbing alcohol," she said. "Won't burn for
long but it will burn. Watch."

She took Park's lighter from his hand
without asking. She walked over to one of the glass doors. Corpses
writhed and bit at her. She splashed some of the alcohol on the
door and lit it. Flame roared across the glass for a few seconds,
then was gone. The glass was scorched and darkened and the room
smelled of smoke. But behind the glass, the corpses had backed up
several feet.

Park raised an eyebrow and nodded. "That
would definitely help."

Angie nodded back at him. She held out his
lighter. Park shook his head. "Keep it. You start fires, I'll
shoot." He smirked at her.

She smirked back and put the lighter in her
smock pocket. "Okay then. Let's see what else we have we can use as
weapons."

Mr. Paulson pointed at the jugs of alcohol.
"I hope you aren't planning on me carrying all those fuckers."

Angie looked down at Mr. Paulson, then
reached for his waist.

"What the fuck?" said Mr. Paulson. Angie
grabbed the belt of his hospital robe and pulled it free.

"Hospital property," she said. She walked
over to the jugs of alcohol. She threaded the belt through four of
the jug handles, then lifted it all up off the counter. She tied
the belt around her waist, two jugs dangling at each hip. She
double knotted and pulled it so tight Park winced.

"That's gotta hurt," said Park.

"You bet it does," said Angie. "But it'll
work."

Park nodded. "Got anything sharp? Scalpels
or some shit?"

Angie thought about it, then walked to
another counter. She pulled open a drawer and pulled out packets of
scalpels and blades. She opened the protective plastic and put four
scalpels together. She stuck one in the robe belt. She handed the
other three out to Park, Kristen and Mr. Paulson.

"They don't feel pain," said Angie, “but you
can use these to cut free a finger or hand. Wish we had something
that could cut deeper, but surgeries aren't generally done at the
nurse's station."

Angie paused, looking at Kristen. "Here,"
she said. She took the rifle off her shoulder and handed it to her.
"Since Mr. Paulson can move himself now, you can use this."

Kristen blanched at the sight of the gun.
"I'm not really that good with a gun..."

Angie cut her off. "You were good enough to
pretend to shoot Sam. Just take it. Aim for the brain and try not
to waste ammo."

Kristen took the gun.

Angie turned to look at the three glass
doors. The corpses had returned to the scorched one. All three
doors were covered with corpses, squirming and grasping. Park
stepped up next to her.