Lakewood Memorial (17 page)

"Crap!" said Dalton. "Try harder!"

Maylee did. She floored the gas and the
wheels spun as they had in the garage. The corpses hissed, their
sheer mass keeping the car from moving more than a few feet at a
time. One corpse, an old man in a rotted priest's collar, climbed
up onto the hood. He scraped yellow fingernails across the
windshield, trying to get at Maylee.

"Screw this," said Maylee. "We'll back up
and try again."

She put the car in reverse and looked behind
her. Her chest went tight. The corpses had surrounded the car.

"Shit," she said, still looking.

"What?" asked Dalton, turning to look. He
gasped and was silent.

The priest on the hood groaned and pawed at
the windshield. Another corpse, a woman in a torn and dirty dress,
climbed onto the trunk. She gurgled and tried to bite through the
glass.

"Go! Go!" yelled Dalton.

Maylee kept the car in reverse and slammed
down on the gas. The car lurched backward, moving a few feet. More
corpses appeared in back of the car. Maylee cursed and slammed on
the gas again. Something under the car went "crunch" and the car
was free. It moved faster than Maylee had anticipated and she
swerved backward into the guardrail. The corpse on the trunk flew
off. The corpse on the hood slammed into the windshield, cracking
it slightly.

"Damn it!" yelled Maylee, wrenching the car
into drive. She gave the car gas but it stayed in place. The
guardrail creaked and groaned. The corpses began surrounding the
car again. The priest on the hood ran his withered hands over the
cracked windshield.

"Maylee..." said Dalton, his voice shaking
as he stared at the priest.

"I'm working on it," said Maylee, pushing
the gearshift into reverse and slamming the gas pedal. The car
rocked backward. The guardrail creaked. The priest on the hood bit
at the glass, his thick drool running down onto the hood.

"Maylee.."

"I said I'm working on it!" Maylee shifted
into drive and gave the car gas. The engine roared but the car
wouldn't move. She could hear the guardrail straining and
groaning.

"Oh crap, Maylee!" said Dalton, a new
urgency in his voice.

Maylee looked up. A new wave of corpses were
stumbling onto the bridge. Nearly a hundred of them. They all
looked torn and dirty. Some of them barely looked human, more like
dried husks. Their skin cracked and split as they moved.

"Where are they coming from?" said
Dalton.

The priest on the hood pounded on the
windshield.

Maylee nodded at a steeple among the trees
on the far side of the bridge.

"See that old church?"

"The church?" said Dalton. "These things
come from churches?"

"No, Dalton," said Maylee, pulling the car
into reverse and gunning the gas. The car stayed put. "The
graveyard behind the church." She put the car into drive and tried
again. Nothing. "Who knows how many more there are. We've got to
get out of here."

"No crap," said Dalton.

The priest on the hood moaned and drooled.
The corpses ahead of the car, now growing in numbers, pressed
forward. Maylee looked in the rearview mirror. Another corpse, a
man with a large portion of his face burnt and blackened, was
pawing at the trunk.

Maylee shifted into park and took her foot
off the gas.

"What the crap are you doing?" said
Dalton.

Maylee reached into the backseat and grabbed
the bat. "Stay here."

She opened the door. The smell of the
corpses flooded in.

"Maylee!" yelled Dalton.

"Just stay here!" she said, undoing her seat
belt and climbing from the car.

She had little room to move. The car was up
against the guardrail. She slid her way clear of the door and shut
it. The corpses were everywhere, groaning and reaching at her. The
car kept them at bay. For the moment.

She gripped the bat and sidestepped to the
back of the car. The burnt-face man groaned at her.

"Fuck off," she said, slamming the bat
across his head. His head rocked to one side and a chunk of burnt
flesh flew off and onto the road behind the car. He fell onto his
back, groaning and pawing at nothing.

Maylee looked down where the car met the
guardrail. The bumper had somehow hooked itself onto the metal of
the rail. She frowned and whacked the bumper with the bat. The
metal bent inward but was still hung on the rail.

The burnt-face man stood up. His
newly-exposed flesh was red and raw. He growled at her,
reaching.

"I said fuck off!" said Maylee, slamming his
head again. He groaned and fell back down.

Maylee whacked the bumper again. The metal
crumpled and came free of the rail.

"Damn right," she said to no one. She turned
and looked around. The corpses from the graveyard were close to the
car. The priest on the hood was doing his best to climb onto the
car's roof. He was reaching for her desperately, clutching at
air.

She sidestepped, quickly as she could, back
to the door. She opened the door and slid back in, tossing the bat
into the backseat.

"What the crap!" said Dalton.

"Not now," said Maylee, closing the door.
She pulled the car into reverse and turned the wheel hard to the
right. She gunned the gas and the car lurched free of the guardrail
and into the middle of the bridge. She heard crunching and
squishing and knew they were corpses.

The priest on the hood groaned and slid off
the car, smacking his head on the windshield on his way down. The
glass cracked a little more.

"Go go go!" said Dalton.

Maylee straightened the wheel and gunned the
engine. The car sped backward, bouncing as it hit the road and was
free of the bridge. For a panicked moment Maylee lost control of
the car as it rocketed backward.

"Shit!" she said, slamming on the brakes.
The car spun in the road and they both screamed.

The car came to a halt longways across the
road. The back tires were very close to a ditch.

"Dammit!" said Dalton. "Your driving sucks,
Maylee!"

Maylee ignored him and looked over at the
bridge. It was now choked so thick with corpses there was no way
they'd get across it.

"Shut up," she finally said, pulling the
shifter into drive and turning the car to face away from the
bridge. She took one last look at the bridge, then sped away.

"Looks like we have to try the old bridge,"
she said.

Twenty-Five

Angie walked down the hall as quietly as she
could. Park was behind her doing the same. Kristen and Mr. Paulson
were behind Park. Kristen looked up and down the hall, saying
nothing. Mr. Paulson had his chair on the lowest setting, moving
slowly and quietly.

Angie slowed to a halt as they approached a
doorway to their right. The doorway to the hospital chapel. It was
open and Angie could hear groaning. She held up a hand and the
others stopped.

"Fuck," whispered Park. "More?"

Angie leaned forward and looked into the
chapel. A group of corpses knelt near the altar. They were facing
to one side, chewing on something on the floor. Angie saw bare legs
and the bottom of a hospital robe. The rest was hidden behind a
pew. Blood covered the bare legs.

"Yeah," whispered Angie. "More."

"Shit on this," whispered Mr. Paulson. "Just
shoot them and let's go."

"We've been over this, dick-neck," whispered
Park. "We don't have enough ammo for that."

"They're looking the other way and they
haven't heard us," whispered Angie. "Let's just get past them and
go. The cafeteria's just up ahead."

"Oh good," whispered Mr. Paulson. "I was
hoping for some more of your fuck-awful food"

"Now, Dad," whispered Kristen. Her voice,
even in a whisper, sounded hollow.

Angie said nothing, looking back into the
chapel. The corpses still had not noticed them. She nodded to the
others and they moved forward. They slowly and quietly crept past
the doorway. The only sounds were the groaning of the feeding
corpses and the soft whir of Mr. Paulson's chair.

A few steps later and they were clear of the
room. Angie relaxed a little but stayed slow and quiet. They all
made their way farther down the hall.

Eventually, the hallway opened into the
cafeteria. Two rows of long tables ran along the center of the
room, with several chairs at each one. At the far end of the room
was another door, opening back into the hallway.

"Okay," said Angie, stepping over to the
nearest table. "We can take a second to regroup." She set down the
half-empty alcohol jug and undid the belt holding the remaining
full ones to her waist.

She looked over at Park. He was taking his
rifle off of his shoulder and looking around. She stepped over to
him and spoke softly. "What did you mean earlier?"

He frowned at her. "What?"

"You said something about getting your wish
if we ran out of ammo and died."

He looked around and rubbed his stubble.
"You heard that?"

"Yeah," said Angie. "And we don't need that
kind of..."

"Look, I didn't really mean you. Or them. I
meant me."

Angie frowned.

"Listen," said Park, quietly. "Before we
came here, before I brought Moe to the hospital I mean, I was
planning on killing myself."

Angie blinked.

Park nodded. "Probably would have used this
very same fucking rifle to do it, too." He shook the rifle in his
hand and set it down on a nearby table.

"Why didn't you?"

Park shrugged. "Got distracted."

Angie looked down at the floor and chuckled.
"You know, before tonight I would have asked you why anyone would
want to do such a thing. Now I almost have a hard time
understanding why someone wouldn't."

Park smirked at her and she smirked
back.

"So why do you keep going?" she asked.

"I honestly don't know."

Park dug a box of ammo from his hunting
jacket. He gave the box a little shake and cursed. "I'm damned near
out."

"Same here," said Kristen, following Mr.
Paulson as he wheeled his chair over to where Angie had set the
jugs of alcohol.

"We'll just have to be smart," said Angie,
stepping over to Mr. Paulson.

"Can't be something you're not, honey,"
muttered Mr. Paulson.

"Dad," said Kristen, quietly. "Hush."

Mr. Paulson whirled the chair around to face
Kristen. "Stop telling me to hush! Have you stopped for a second to
consider how roundly fucked we all are? We've got the hillbilly,
the maid, the cripple and you. And what the fuck have you ever been
good for? You couldn't even put your goddamned husband out of his
goddamned misery!"

Kristen took a step back, her mouth open.
Her eyes were wet.

Angie slammed the jug of alcohol down. "Keep
it down. They will hear us."

"You shut the fuck up too!" Mr. Paulson
roared. "You stomping around like you're somehow in fucking charge!
You could barely manage my fucking bed pan as it was! You're so
fucking stupid I'm surprised your kids haven't been taken away
already!"

Angie circled the wheelchair to face him,
not sure what she would do but sure it would be bad. She stopped
when she heard groans coming from both doorways.

"Great," she said. "Good job."

Corpses staggered into the door at the far
end of the room. The corpse at the front, a woman in a bloody
dress, hissed and lurched at them.

"Shit!" said Park, leveling his rifle at the
woman and firing. The woman's head snapped back and she crumpled.
"We don't have enough ammo for this!"

Groans came from behind them. Angie spun to
see more corpses stumble through the door at their backs. A man
with no pants was chewing on one of the bloody legs Angie had seen
in the chapel. He bit free a red chunk from the top of the leg and
chewed.

Angie spun back to face Mr. Paulson. He was
quiet, looking back and forth from one group of corpses to the
other. "Any ideas?" she said.

Mr. Paulson said nothing, looking back and
forth.

"I said any ideas!" she shrieked at him. The
approaching corpses groaned from both sides. She felt her sanity
slipping.

"He's just an old man!" yelled Kristen,
wiping tears from her cheeks.

Angie turned to Kristen, her hand raised to
smack her. She stopped, saying nothing.

"Remember that part when I said we were
running out of ammo?" said Park, turning to face the other way and
shooting the leg-carrying corpse. The corpse dropped the leg and
fell.

Angie turned and grabbed the edge of the
table nearest to her. "Here," she said. "Push the tables together."
She shoved the table up against the next table in the row. "It'll
buy us some time."

Park nodded and slung the rifle over his
shoulder. He grabbed chairs away from the tables and tossed them
aside. He and Angie pushed two more of the tables together.

Kristen was just standing there, staring at
the approaching corpses.

"Get your ass over here!" yelled Park.

Kristen glared at him but rushed over. After
a few seconds of pushing and tugging, they had put four of the long
tables together, creating a raised platform.

"Everyone up!" yelled Angie.

Park jumped up onto the platform and grabbed
Kristen's arms.

"But Dad!" she said, pulling back.

"But your ass!" said Park, grabbing her arms
tighter and wrenching her up onto the platform.

Mr. Paulson wheeled himself over to the side
of the platform. Corpses were closing in on him from both sides.
"What the fuck?"

Angie hopped up onto the platform. The
corpses coming from behind reached the tables. They reached for
Park and Kristen, but the platform was too wide. One corpse, a
fresher-looking one, began climbing onto the platform. Park kicked
him off. The others were too rotted or too wounded to quickly
climb.