Respect for the Dead (Surviving the Dead Book 1) (4 page)

The woods were normally full of sound.  Birds chirping and leaves rustling with animals scurrying about.   Today it was silent.  All the animals could sense there was something there that shouldn’t be, something very, very, wrong.    The group that was wandering through the forest definitely did not belong there. 

Several were covered in dried mud and blood.  Some in nightclothes, other clothes were torn and filthy, one wore nothing at all.  Then there were the ones with just a grey pallor and no sign of injuries.   They might have just wandered into the woods for a walk and met up with these other folks.  The group was mixed with young and old, black and white all searching for the same thing, all lumbering at the same plodding pace. 

Reaching the edge of the woods the group paused momentarily, blinded for a second by the bright morning sun in clouded milky eyes.   They moaned the ones in the back pushing the ones in the front forward.  The group began to cross the open ground. 

Confusion crossed the disfigured faces of the leaders as barbed wire cut into their waists stopping their progress.   Further and further it pressed through as more ghouls pressed from behind.  The wooden posts snapped and protested against the growing weight.  The top half of a woman parted company with its legs.  Free from the fence she began to crawl ahead of the others.  The posts snapped, several bodies fell when the resistance disappeared, pulling the rest of the fence down with them.  The ones behind did not notice the ones they stepped on and over on their way to the farm house. 

The horse in the paddock whinnied and stamped the ground.  The group was crossing the field of harvested corn.  As they approached the animal became more panicked, the wind bringing with it the unmistakable reek of death.  Further in the back of the crowd one creature struggled as it drug half of the fence, still embedded into its stomach.  Further back still the half ghoul crawled along leaving its legs trampled and broken its innards trailing gore behind it.  Where the fence once stood lay a body that did not stir.  The horse bucked and neighed, banging on the fence and gate.   

Jim rubbed his weary eyes as he walked to the window.  The horse was making a terrible racket, he worried it would wake the boys.  He and his wife had spent a sleepless night with their two sons who had come down with the terrible flu that they were hearing about on the news. The high fever and stomach cramps had kept the boys in terrible pain all night.  No matter what they tried the boys found no relief or comfort.  Finally near dawn the older boy fell into a restless sleep followed by his brother. 

Both were drenched in sweat, Jim’s wife kept replacing the damp cloths on their foreheads with cool ones.  Jim had taken an early morning shift so she could get some rest.  She was back now at the boy’s side.  Jim did not want to have the boys woken by the horse. 

“Jim we’re going to have to take them to the hospital if this fever doesn’t break soon.”  She whispered.  Jim cringed but nodded.  Money was very tight and their insurance not very good, but this was his boys. 

His mind filled with worry for his sons and how he was going to pay for their treatment.  He turned the knob and stepped out into the sunlight.  If his attention wasn’t so distracted he may have noticed how wrong things were outside his door.  Pulling on his hat to shield his tired eyes from the bright sun he looked down as he headed to the paddock.  Reaching the fence he called to his frantic horse. 

“You need to be quiet.  We just got the boys to sleep.”  He scolded while walking over to the gate where the horse stamped the ground.  Jim opened it in an attempt to calm the animal.  As soon as the gate was unlatched the horse reared then burst through running as is if the devil were chasing him. 

Knocked over by the force of the gate Jim swore after the beast.  Pulling himself to his feet with the aid of the fence Jim dusted himself off angrily.  Not only did he have the boys to worry about now he had a horse to find.  Halfway through a swipe at his pants Jim caught a glimpse of the oncoming crowd.  They were three quarters of the way across the field, somewhere between twenty or thirty people. 

They must, must have been in a bus crash or something, something other than what he swore they couldn’t be.  Terror and disbelief rooted him to the ground until the scream from the house pulled him back to reality.  His wife burst through the back door as he ran to it.  She was bleeding from her arms and hands. 

“The boys the boys” was all her panic would let he scream.  Behind her Jim could see his boys clawing at the screen door, blood covering their mouths and teeth.  Seeing the oncoming horde she let out another scream.  Jim pulled her along to the truck parked beside the house.  Frantically he grabbed at his pockets, keys!  Where were the keys?  A memory flashed through his mind, a memory of tossing the truck keys onto the table when he brought home the cold medicine.  His wife screamed again when a spiky haired kid with the torn shirt and face appeared at the back of the truck.  Jim turned pulling his wife toward the barn.  The sight of his oldest boy halted their movements.  He was on his mother before Jim could even react.  The blonde boy was now ripping into her neck as his son bit into her leg. 

Jim ran to the barn, the screams of his wife chasing him. Skidding to a halt, his way was blocked by three of them.  Turning he ran to the house, his footsteps thundered on the wooden porch, the front door slammed behind him.  Jim clicked the lock, pushed the large chest by the window in front of the door.  He spun on the spot, windows, too many windows and the noise was too loud, the back door!  Jim ran to the back of the house, the back screen door stood torn and open.  Several undead approached.  Jim slid across the bloody kitchen floor, crying out he slammed the door shut in the faces of the ghouls. 

Gasping for breath, his blood pounded in his ears.  He never heard the soft footfalls of his youngest son.  The pain ripped through his upper thigh, blood flowed heavy from the wound.  Jim threw the child from him.  Limping he grabbed the keys from the table.  He was at the front door, the chest was moved, the door opened.  He could hear his son behind him, they were in front of him, beside him.  Black tunnels obscured his vision he was cold, dizzy, he was on his back.  Horrid faces staring down, hands began to grab he could feel the tugs, the pain was far away.  

The ranks of the group were now swelled by four as the man, his wife, and two children, bloody and torn wandered down the road toward the town. 

Even before entering the living room Wes could tell that Reg was worse, much worse.  “I asked you to watch him.”  His mother hissed.  She hurried to her husband’s side.  Placing a hand on his forehead she called to her son.  “Get me a wet wash cloth.” 

“How is he?”  Wes asked his mother, placing a hand on her shoulder.  She hugged it with her face and shoulder while she held the damp cloth to her husband’s forehead. 

Reginald Baker lay on the couch gripping a blanket around him tightly.  He also had three other blankets covering him.  Sweat poured off his head while he shivered violently under the heap of covers.  His skin was pale, his eyes half closed.  Suddenly he erupted in a fit of coughing.  It was a harsh dry hacking cough.  It sounded as if it was ripping at Reg’s throat and lungs.  It hurt Wes’ chest just to hear it. 

“Do you need me to go back out and get try to get something?”  Wes asked his mother. 

“I don’t know.  No.  There was nothing left when I was just out.  We’ll probably have to get more.   I just don’t know when they’ll get more.  It seems everyone is sick. ” She sighed.  “It just, nothing seems to help.  I don’t want to give him anything else, he’s had these and these already.”  She motioned to the open boxes of could relief and bottles of cough syrup.  “I was just hoping to find something better.”      

“Well this is something to look forward to.”  Wes shuddered while rubbing his chest.  Walking around the couch he knelt down to check on Reg.  “How you feeling old dude?” 

Reg gave a weak smile that turned into another coughing fit.  “I don’t feel the best right now kiddo.”  He wheezed, “But I’ll be fine soon.”  He tried to give his wife a reassuring smile.  He then shivered and wrapped himself more tightly in the blanket.  

“Grab another blanket form the closet will you?”  Wes’ mother asked.  He hurried to the closet, every step the concern within him grew.  Returning to the couple he held out the last blanket they had, Reg seemed to be covered in all the others.   

“What else can I do Mom?”  He asked as she sat on the floor next to the couch and helped her husband get a drink. She looked up at him shaking her head.  “I can get the comforter from my room.” 

“I’m ok guys, seriously.  Just a bad bug.”  Reg tried to calm them.  He coughed then smiled, “besides, that thing will only get me sicker.  When was the last time you washed it?”  His laugh turned into more coughs. 

“If you are not better by tomorrow I am taking you to the doctor and that is that.”  Wes smiled as his mother lay down the law.  “Now get some sleep.  I’m just going to read for a bit.  Wes I’m sorry but I need you here to help and… I...I’m just happy you are home.  In case I need something.”

“It's ok Mom.  I’m worried about the old guy too.”  He knew she didn’t need him home to help but needed his support.  He headed up to his room listening as Reg broke out into another fit of coughs that ended in a moan.  As soon as he closed the door to the bedroom his phone rang, It was Beth. 

Dave and Bridgette had just finished unpacking the last boxes in their first apartment together a couple of days ago.  It wasn’t much but it was theirs.  Located above a dance studio on the third floor of an old building downtown, the rent had been just right for the young couple moving in together right after graduating college. 

They liked the location downtown and the lack of neighbors.  Of the four apartments only two others were occupied.  This suited the young couple just fine as they liked to play their music loud and have a good time.  Today the apartment was quieter than normal.  Bridgette had come down with the cold that had been going around.   Dave watched the news, where the commentators posed theories, argued over the causes, and showed maps projecting the spread.  The east and west coast where already covered in red dots.  New York was completely covered in solid red.    He looked from the TV to his laptop.  The stories on the internet did not help calm his fears.   The web was reporting deaths and some weird stories about people suffering from heavy fever that caused them to act crazy and attack doctors and loved ones. 

Swine Flu, bird Flu, whatever flu, Dave didn’t really care.  What he did care about was Bridgette and she was very sick.  Bridgette was cold no matter how many layers of clothes and blankets she was covered in.  She also had a horrendous headache and stomach ache.  Dave was staying home from work to take care of her.  She had always been a bit sickly and frail so Dave was not surprised when she got ill.  She was lying in their bed coughing and Dave had given up on the news and was now in the kitchen making her some tea. 

“Dave…” she called.  Her voice was very weak and could barely be heard.  Dave had been listening and hurried to the bedroom.  “I really feel terrible.  I think I need to go to the hospital.”  She moaned then started to cough. 

“I’ll get your coat ok, be right back.”  He ran to the hall closet, her coat wasn’t there.  He remembered she was already wearing it to beat the chills.  Shaking his head in frustration he grabbed his coat for her and hurried back to the bedroom.  It was quiet. 

“Bridge?  Bridge!”  He yelped at her motionless figure. 

Dropping the coat to the floor he rushed to the bed and felt her wrist.  She didn’t seem to have a pulse.  He leaned over her to check for breathing.  He couldn’t feel anything.  He put an ear to her chest praying to hear a heartbeat.   No sound came.  “Bridge?  Bridgette?”  He asked, finally yelling her name. 

Her eyes flew open, relief washed over Dave.  Her eyes watched him as a sound escaped her throat.  Dave leaned over to hear what she was saying.  Relief turned to terror when she lurched forward sinking her teeth into his neck.  Blood sprayed over her lips and across the wall.  He jerked away in agony and fear.  Stumbling back he stood straight up, his hand flew to his neck and the severed artery spurting blood over the walls and bed.  Dizzy he turned to run from the room but she caught him by the arm, pulling him back to the bed.  He fell over across the bed, knocking her girp free.  She was on him in a second biting him in the face. 

Dave tried to fight the small woman off of him but his blood flowed freely from his neck onto the comforter.  Grabbing his hand and biting off a finger Bridgette chewed the digit like a chicken wing.  Dave’s eyes darkened as he died.   Down the hall an older couple watched the news.  The burning buildings in Pittsburgh mixed with the reports from New York and LA had them frightened.  The screams, then absolute quiet coming from the new tenant’s apartment was enough.  Frantically they packed, now was the time to get out, get out before panic made it impossible. 

“Hey, how’s your Stepdad?”

“Not so good.  He is really sick.” 

“I just heard that school is canceled Monday.  Can you believe it?  The news was saying this is a pandemic or something.  People are sick all over the place.”  There was a hint of fear in Beth’s voice.

“Yeah Mom said the stores were running out of cold medicine and water and all kinds of stuff.  You’d think there was a snow storm coming.  Like eggs, bread and milk.  I guess French toast will get you through.  How did Steve’s meeting go?”  Wes asked

Beth sighed, “Not too good I think.  Steve was really down when he got home.  He and Dad had another fight about it.” 

There was a long silence on the phone then Beth spoke again.  “Wes, I…I’m sorry…”

Wes stomach dropped she was going to dump him already.  He knew it.

“Wes?”

“Yeah I’m here.” He morosely replied.

“What’s the matter?”

“You’re gonna end it aren’t you?  You realized you just want to be friends but I don’t know if I can be just friends now.”  Wes huffed.

“Wait what?” Beth asked confused, “Are you dumping me Wes?”

“No…you’re not dumping me?”

“Ok listen.”  Wes cringed at Beth’s annoyed voice, “Let’s get something straight right now.  Your self-doubt has never been one of your endearing qualities.  I am not going to spend our relationship validating you.’

“Um sorry…you were saying?”  Wes heart was beating really fast.  He had been dating Beth for almost fourteen hours and had already made her angry. 

“What I was saying…Well I hadn’t been much of a friend to you since I started dating Corey and I wanted to apologize for that.”

Wes interrupted again, “Beth you don’t have to…”

“Wes I have to explain things ok.”  She huffed again.  “I made a mistake to go for popularity over substance.  I’m sorry we didn’t do this sooner.” 

Wes smiled, “Yeah I know what you mean…I’ll work on the self doubt thing.” 

“You better.  We’ve been watching the news and Dad is getting really worried. ” Beth explained. 

As they spoke Wes kept trying not worry about the coughing and hacking coming from the living room.  He also ignored the pictures on the TV.  Hospitals overrun, stores picked clean, pharmacies looted and burned, people protesting outside of pharmaceutical companies demanding drugs.  “Yeah I know how feels.” 

“Listen, Dad thinks it might be a good idea to get out of town.   He says to tell you that if things don’t get better soon we are going to come get you guys.” 

“I don’t know, Reg is really sick.  I don’t think we can move him.”  Wes stated listen to the coughing. 

“I think Dad…um meant…only you and your Mom.”  Beth hesitated.  Wes didn’t answer.  “Wes, the stuff on the news.  The sick people have been doing stuff…”

“No Beth, no.  Not Reg.  he would never hurt us.  Never.  He promised.  Let me know where you are and we’ll meet you when Reg is better.”  Wes shook his head.  She couldn’t be serious.  The silence on the phone only accentuated the coughing from the living room.  “Beth…I gotta go.”