Respect for the Dead (Surviving the Dead Book 1) (12 page)

Steve followed the slow progress of the little Toyota Prius as it passed along the front of his Mustang.  In the driver’s seat of the highly efficient car was a woman.  She turned her dead eyes to meet Steve’s.  She contorted in the seat, both hands clawing at the closed window.  She was missing a couple fingers on her left hand and her forehead had large gash in it. 

Steve just watched the creature as the car continued its slow journey across his bumper, creaking and scrapping as it went.  Finally free of the front of his car it drifted slowly into the wall of a building.  The zombie inside the car turning in the seat to stare at Steve the entire time it traveled.  She was trying to climb over the seat to get at him but was hindered by the still buckled seatbelt.  Steve watched as she clawed and strained and growled. Shaking himself, he gave the woman the finger and depressed the accelerator. 

“I have to get home.  Just get home Stevie.”  He berated himself.  In the rearview mirror he could see the creature pawing at the passenger window.   

Steve loved his Mustang.  He had skimped and saved for this car for over a year.  He had custom wheels, a deep blue paint job that he lovingly washed every week.  The interior and exterior were spotless.  The oil was changed regularly; every care was taken to keep his girl looking beautiful.  This thought flitted through his mind as he smashed into a garbage can, splattered a zombie across the wide hood, and sent sparks into the air as he scraped along a building while he sped down the sidewalk.

He swung the car around, it fishtailed and bounced off a light pole as he mounted the pavement to the road that lead up the hill to his neighborhood.  He saw smoke rising off in the distance.  “Oh god, please let them be ok, please let me be able to get to them.”  

The familiar road was barely recognizable through the smoke, abandoned possession and sights of gore.   Red patches stood out bright against the concrete of the sidewalks.  Some still contained mementos of the death that happened there.  Here a leg, there an arm, there an unrecognizable twisted pile of horror.  Steve passed a group huddled on the ground, a hand shot up from their midst, curled, and sunk back down slowly. 

Steve urged more speed out of the high performance engine.  He had a clear shot to the neighborhood.  A zombie shuffled off the sidewalk up ahead into the road.  Steve didn’t even swerve.  The creature bounced off the hood while one of its limbs went flying.  “I’ll run over every fuckin one! Run everyone of you bastards down!  You can’t stop me from getting home.” He screamed as he clipped another one, it pirouetted on one leg the other leg twisted in the air, shattered.  It fell.  Steve glanced in the rearview mirror and saw it try to crawl up the street after the speeding car.  Steve’s attention moved back to what was in front of him just in time to recognize that a creature was running toward him.  This one was different from the others, this one was alive.

Wes had covered two blocks but still had several to go to get to the Beth’s house.  It was taking longer than he had originally anticipated.  The neighborhood was in total anarchy.  Every house he passed seemed to be either broken into or broken out of.  He had seen several people running.  The few cars that passed him barely slowed even with his frantic waving for help.  He had been following the street for about a block before coming to the conclusion that this was an incredibly bad idea.  The zombies seemed to think the street was also the best place to be. Wes felt it was too crowded and decided to make himself scarce.

Keeping to the back yards as much as he could Wes was starting to wonder if is shouldn’t have stayed in his house.  A sound caught his attention.  Peering between two houses he saw a dirt bike lying on its side.  The engine was still idling.  Gun in hand, Wes edged forward along the wall.   At the corner he saw the owner of the bike.  He was missing his head and the rest of the body had been torn apart rather extensively.  A little way off he spotted the helmet, the visor was up, the head inside blinked at him.  

Wes raised the gun, hesitated, and then lowered it.  If he fired he was sure it would just draw the unwanted attention.  The eyes followed Wes’ every movements.  Wes tried to ignore this.  He kept telling himself that there was nothing he could do for him, “I’m sorry.”  Wes mouthed.

Looking up and down the street he assessed the situation.  There were a few zombies little ways down the block.  There were close by but were wandering in the opposite direction.  The road ahead looked mostly clear of the undead, just some debris and a couple of abandon cars.   

“Might make it easily enough.” Wes tried to convince himself.  He clicked the safety on the gun, tucked it into his belt then ran to the bike.  He righted it quickly and jumped on.  Twisting the accelerator the engine screamed.  The two zombies up the block turned and moaned their disapproval.  Wes panicked.  Sitting on the bike in the middle of the street he kept revving the engine. 

Problem was, he wasn’t moving.  Several more zombies had stumbled into the road from a house nearby.  He was drawing a lot of attention now.  Slapping himself hard in the head, “Shit clutch!”

  He put the bike in gear and let the clutch go.  It lurched into a wheelie.  Wes screamed and let off the accelerator.  The bike’s front wheel came down and Wes hit the pavement.   More ghouls were coming out of houses now.  He was quickly becoming surrounded.  Painfully he got up.  Picked up the now staled bike and got back on.  His shaking hand pulled the clutch in.  His foot found the kick starter, the path in front of him was closing fast.  He kicked the down, the bike roared to life at once. 

Stunned he sat for a second.  “That never happens in movies.”  He laughed.

The smile slid from his face quickly.  He slowly let out the clutch twisted the accelerator and headed for the closing gap in the horde that was heading toward him.  Shifting gears with more grinding than grace he sped past the clawing hands.

Wes swerved around two wrecked cars one had a zombie struggling to get at him through a half open window.  Several heart pounding minutes later found the bike skidding to a halt in front of Beth’s house.  Wes’ heart sank.   The door hung open; a trail of blood ran down the walkway. 

Jumped off the bike letting it fall, the engine sputtered and died.  Cursing under his breath, he pulled the gun from his belt.  Cautiously he crept up to the door.  Stealing a glance inside, he couldn’t see anything further than the foyer. 

Taking a steadying breath he slipped into the house.   Blood was on smeared along the walls in the front hall.  Edging his way deeper into the house Wes held his breath listening for movement.  “Beth?”  He barely whispered.   He wanted so badly to find her but was terrified he would. 

Moving deeper into the gloomy hall, Wes heard the emergency broadcast on the TV in the living room.  He crept slowly toward the sound.  A man was standing in front of the TV.  “The public is instructed to go to the following evacuation points, Richland mall, Point Park, and the Cinema on the Hill…” the electronic voice rattled off instructions, “avoid anyone who sick, been bitten, or injured by those who are sick.   If someone has died in your home leave them and evacuate immediately.”   

“Mr. McDaniel?”  Wes’ voice trembled as he whispered.  Wes knew even before the man slowly turned to face him.  It had been Mr. McDaniel, he was missing an eye and most of his cheek, His body cavity was ripped open and most of his entrails were missing.  The eye that was left focused on the boy.

Wes whimpered, stumbling back as the creature raised an arm reaching out to him. Raising the gun, Wes took aim as he backed into the wall.  The Zombie McDaniel let out a groan.  Before the groan turned into a howl Wes fired and Mr. McDaniel was no more. 

Again guilt and grief filled him as he stared at the corpse crumpled on the floor.  Wes remembered the many times he had talked and laughed with the man.  The many nights he had spent in this house when his real father had been in one of his drunken rages.  He remembered all the times Mr. McDaniel had protected him and his mother.  “Damn it.”  He muttered as he swiped at his eyes. 

Turn his back on the scene in the living room.  “Living room…”  Wes let out a humorless laugh.  He then did a quick inspection of the house.  There was no sign of trouble in either Beth’s room or Steve’s.  He paused for a second at Beth’s door.  He noticed her jacket and backpack were missing.  His heart leapt as he blew out a sigh of relief.  Gazing around the room he spied a stuffed rabbit he had given Beth for her birthday a few years ago.  Grabbing it he stuffed it in his backpack.

On his way out the door Wes opened the front closet where he knew Steve kept his hunting rifle.  Frowning he pulled it from the closet.  He had hoped it would have been gone.  He slung it onto his back next to the sword, grabbed whatever ammo he could and tried to stuff it into his already overloaded backpack.  Wes pulled out the stuffed bunny and loaded in the ammo.  Throwing the pack over his shoulder he stood.  Wes looked down to the stuffed animal lying on the floor.  The bunny stared up with happy blue eyes.  Wes turned, hesitated, then buttoned his jacket, grabbed the bunny and stuffed it in.  “You just had to be so damn cute.”  He grumbled.   

Heading toward the door he caught a glimpse of himself in the hall mirror.  His reflection forced out a laugh.  There was blood splattered on his clothes and face, he held a gun in his right hand a rifle muzzled and sword hilt poked out above his shoulders.  His shoulders were covered with the thick straps of his pack, and peaking out of the front of the stained, torn and dirty jacket were two bunny ears. He address the ears, “Ok, bunny, let’s get up to Richland mall.”  Smiling he gave them a pat. 

He turned back to the door only to find his exit blocked by a zombie.  Wes aimed and fired.  The zombie crumpled only to reveal several more filing in behind it.  Wes fired again and again but the noise only attracted more and more.  Seeing the way out was being blocked by a pile of bodies.  The only good thing about this was he seemed to have made a barrier with the corpses.  Even so the living dead were beginning to push and climb over. 

Not waiting to fill the breach, he ran to the back of the house.   Vaulting over the body of Beth’s father, Wes ran through the shattered sliding glass door.  A little boy shuffled toward Wes as soon as he was free of the house.  The child’s ashen features and guttural growl told Wes all he needed to know.  The boy began to moan loudly as he approached.

Not wanting a repeat of the house, and the fact that his ammo was low in the gun, Wes pulled the sword from his back.  With a sweeping upward slice the child’s head snapped back.  Its bottom jaw was now limply hanging in two pieces.  Still the boys moaned.  Several dead were now shuffling through the broken sliding glass door; others were creeping around the corner of the house.

“Dammit! Little bastard!”  Wes huffed then ran.  He was in the road in front of Beth’s house.  The dead covered the entrance, the motorbike was on its side, zombies tripping and falling all over it.  He was spotted, a moan went up and the undead turned to face him. 

Wes dropped the mag from the gun, through the sword onto his back, slammed a fresh clip in and ran to the main street of the neighborhood.  He heard the roar of an engine coming up fast.  As the car crested the hill a smile broke out on his face, he knew that car.

Lacey stumbled
backward from the monitor and began to wheeze.  The wheeze turned into a cough and then the cough became non- stop.  Norman moved forward quickly to catch her as she fell over backward, panic in her eyes as she attempted to draw breath.  He slowly lowered her to the floor.

“Dev, grab me some water would you?”  Norman cried.  “Lace, Lace…Where is your inhaler?”   Norman grabbed the woman’s purse.  After several seconds of rummaging he dumped the entire contents on the floor.  Finding the small inhaler he forced it to her lips.  

Devin ran to the water cooler in the corner of the room.  As he poured water into a paper cup the coughing subsided into a long groan then nothing.

“Lace?  Lacey!”  Norman shouted.   Devin straightened up, the cool cup of water felt foreign in his hand.  He stared at the blank wall behind the cooler.  This couldn’t be happening.  Slowly he turned back to see Lacey on the floor, she was staring at the ceiling, but Devin knew she couldn’t see it.

Norman held her in his arms.  “She just died.”  Norman stated.  “Just died.”    He looked down at the woman.  “I tried to give her her inhaler but it didn’t work.  How can asthma kill her?”

Devin closed his eyes, “with all this, she dies from an asthma attack?”  He thought.  Hoping this was all just a dream he kept his eyes shut tight.  He listened for the familiar sound of morning in his bed.  There was no mistaking the sound of the control room.  Slowly he opened his eyes.  The scene was as he left it seconds before, Norman cradling the body of their co-worker. 

He slowly laid her on the floor her eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling, she blinked and sat up.  Norman backed away and stared stunned at Lacy and she stared back for a second.

“Lace, you’re ok!” a relieved smile broke over Norman’s face.  Slowly Lacey raised her arms and grabbed Norman.  The smile was gone in a flash.  He shouted as she lurched forward sinking her teeth into his neck.  His blue shirt blossomed with red. 

The water flew from Devin’s hand as he cried out jumping back.  Pain and wet covered Devin’s back as he rammed into the water cooler.  His cries mixed with Norman’s screams of terror as he threw Lacy off.  She skidded across the tile floor.  She turned quickly crawling toward him.  Norman tried to back away but she caught his leg.  He kicked at her sending her reeling.   Her small frame smashed into a table, rolled over and came at him again.  He threw up his arms to protect himself as she clawed and bit him.

Devin watched the scene unfold before him, his mouth hung open.  He realized he was screaming, he ran forward, grabbed a folding chair and smashed it across Lacey’s back.  Devin’s hands stung from the impact but she didn’t seem to notice.   Norman was kicking and punching at Lacey landing blow after blow.  She kept coming. 

Lacey groaned and struggled to get at Norman’s face and neck.  She was biting and clawing anywhere she could.  Devin grabbed a laptop and smashed it on her head hoping to knock her out.  The first blow did nothing; Devin was screaming again, adrenaline taking over.  He brought the computer down on her again and again.  It was working, she seemed dazed.  Now her attention was on Devin.  Norman crawled away leaving a wide streak of blood behind him. 

As Norman backed away, Devin now had Lacey’s full attention.  He faltered taking a step back.  She was on her feet, blood covered and teeth and chin.  Devin raised the computer and hit her as hard as he could.  Her head snapped to one side but she still came at him.  He hit her again, the computer began to break but so did her face.  

“Smack” several teeth left her mouth.  “CRACK!”  An eye socket smashed, the fluid from the ruptured orb oozed down the bloody cheek.  Dropping the broken computer he grabbed a monitor, raised it above his head, “CRUNCH” she fell backward, the monitor on her head.  It shattered when she hit the floor.

Her legs twitched, her good eye was staring up at the ceiling once again.  Grabbing another laptop, He couldn’t stop, it was like a nightmare, he hit her again and again.  Her face was unrecognizable, a bloody pulp on the floor.  He was drained, exhausted.  Breathing heavily he hit her three more times until he was sure she had stopped moving again.

  “Stop… STOP!”  Norman yelled shocking Devin back to reality.  Devin looked down at Lacey’s mutilated face.  He dropped the computer into the spreading pool of blood, the brain splattered as the case hit it.  Devin backed away in horror. 

“What the fuck?”  Norman gasped and he clutched at his heavily bleeding neck.  “What the hell just happened?”