The Home: A Zombie Survival Short Story (2 page)

"But you were at church all the time. They did not pay you?"

Carlton laughed quietly and shook his head from side to side.

"No, never was paid a dime. I did it because I really enjoyed teaching. I was studying for myself anyway. Why not share. Besides, the stuff y'all came up with was always interesting. I think I learned more from my students than I ever taught you. When you cut out all the foolish nonsense, y'all could ask some insightful questions that made me think pretty hard."

"OK, but what about the rifle?" The last word was said with great exaggeration. Mikayla wanted to say gun again, but really did not want to hear the lecture again.

"Right, well, I have hobbies. I compete in three gun competitions and I like to hunt."

The two girls stared at the back of his head, willing him to say more. When none was forthcoming, Meredith cleared her throat.

He turned back to them, "What?"

"Hunting we get. What the hell is three gun completion?" exclaimed Meridith.

"Oh, that. It's basically a marksmanship competition where you use three firearms: a pistol, a shotgun and a rifle."

"Wait, you said a gun was artillery, none of those are artillery," said a rather smug Mikayla.

"Smart ass. It is a dumb name but it is quite fun. You have a course that you move from target type to target type and shoot. I built the rifle for that competition. I have a couple of different uppers for the rifle based on what I want to do with the rifle."

Meredith interrupted this time, "uppers? What do drugs have to do with this?"

"Nothing. I am referring to the upper receiver of the rifle. It is the part that holds the bullet before it goes boom."

"Now who is being a smart ass," said Mikayla dryly.

"Anyway, you shoot different targets with the different weapons. I had just gone hog hunting a week before the trouble started. I had this in my trunk as I hunt not too far from a subdivision. There is a farmer that pays me for each hog that I kill on his land. The suppressor ensures that no one from the subdivision calls the cops on me. It worked out well so far, but I am running out of ammo. It is not the most popular round, so Wally world and other big box stores don't carry it."

Both girls responded together, "OK, sorry we asked."

He looked at them, but they were both smiling.

Turning more serious, he whispered, "When I open the door, an alarm may go off. The alarm light is green so it shouldn't, but you know how our luck has been."

With both girls nodding, he grabbed the handle of the locked door. It was a brass plated door handle with a cheap and simple locking mechanism that was not very strong. No one tried to break into these places. They only needed to be strong enough to hold in elderly patients with dementia.

He pushed down on the handle with all his weight behind it. He could feel the metal straining within the door handle and felt the cheap metal give way and the door opened. Easing open the door, he raised his weapon and stepped in.

The facility had an open floor plan. There was one large room that was separated off by low, half height walls. Off to each corner of the large room was a hallway to the individual patient rooms. The main room was open ahead of them and looked upon a large atrium. The atrium had the low walls that made for a TV room off to the left and an activity room to the right side. To the back of the main room, were the dining rooms.

The central part of the atrium had skylights in the ceiling with a live tree below them. There were a few dozen leaves lying at the base of the tree that were visible from the moonlight coming through the skylights.

The entry way that they were standing in had rooms to the left and right. To his right, there were two offices. Both had closed glass doors. It was too dark to see into the rooms. To his left there was a library. It had large windows inside looking into the room. It too was dark.

The first thing that struck them was the smell. The place was absolutely rank. There was the smell of death that had become increasingly common in their lives. Next, there were the dual odors of urine and poop that reminded the girls of bad babysitting jobs.

They heard the moaning noise again along with a shuffling sound to the left. Reaching up to the barrel rails with his left hand, Carlton activated the flashlight. A beam of bright light poured out from the end of the barrel. The library was empty.

To the left, they could hear a new noise. It was a light rustle of cloth and then a liquid sound. He swept the beam across the open atrium looking for targets. There were three occupied wheelchairs in the atrium. The occupants were unmoving. Ensuring that there was nothing close, he stepped forward and angled the weapon around the corner.

There was a tall man standing there. He was bald, black and wrinkled. Carlton estimated the age at somewhere close to 80 years of age. His pants were down around his ankles and he was busy urinating on the wall. He was the source of the moaning.

Carlton chuckled and whispered, "Jerry, you know better than that. Where is Penny? She would have taken you back to your room."

Hearing the voice, Jerry, turned to look at Carlton and lifted a left hand and waved at him and smiled. The stream of urine followed his turn and left a wet line across the wall as he moved. The stream slowed and stopped. Jerry reached down and pulled his pants up. Carlton thought he would fall over, but the man managed it. He buttoned his pants and much to Carlton's chagrin, left his fly open with the horse out of the barn.

Carlton ignored Jerry and continued to sweep the room looking for any other movement. There was a light on in the kitchen area. That illuminated the dining areas of the home. There were two bodies seated at the tables that were unmoving as well.

From behind him, Carlton heard Mikayla gasp, "Zombie, oh, shit."

Spinning around, he quickly spoke, "No wait! It's Jerry. He's a resident here. Trust me, he's harmless."

From behind Mikayla, Meredith spoke, "Oh my, he's not a bashful guy, is he."

"Leave the nice man alone, ladies. We need to open the med cart."

He moved to the office door and looked inside. The medical cart was locked inside. Not wanting to wait, he lifted his booted foot and kicked the door handle. The door broke and swung into the room. He waved Mikayla into the room to look at the cart.

She moved into the room and pulled at the drawers of the medical cart. They were, of course, locked. She pulled a small flashlight from her pocket and shone it around the room. There on the wall was a set of keys on a lanyard. The type a busy nurse would wear around her neck when trying to administer medications to thirty or so patients. She grabbed the keys and began to work. The fifth key on the ring of eight keys unlocked the medical cart. The top drawer had some notes taken on the patients. It was dated two weeks ago. Just about the time the outbreak began. These people had been abandoned, but the staff took the time to lock up the medications and tidy up before they left. She just shook her head in disbelief.

On top of the medical cart was a closed laptop computer. That probably had everything she needed to know, but if there was any kind of password on it, it would take too long to figure it out. She went through the various drawers looking for a familiar vial.

In the third drawer, she found it. She pulled the vial out of the box and read the tag. It was insulin. But the handwritten date on the vial made her heart sink. The vial was over four weeks old. She knew that if you did not refrigerate insulin, it would go bad in less than a month. The vial in her hand was worthless. She slid it in her pocket anyway.

"Carlton, we need to find the fridge where they keep the meds cool."

She used her flashlight to check her pump. The small box that kept a constant stream of insulin to her blinked its warning. She was running low. If the light turned to red, she had less than four days to live. Her hope was now, but a small dying ember. After all, if they refilled her pump, that only gave her another month's supply. They had to keep any extra that they found cold. There was a sword poised above her head and the threads holding it there were slowly parting.

Carlton called out, "Follow me."

He swept the area in front of them. They moved into the center of the atrium. The last time Carlton was here, he remembered it being so neat and orderly. There was a puddle at the base of the tree. Apparently the wall was not the only target of Jerry's bladder relief efforts.

The first of the wheelchairs was in front of them. Carlton pushed on the body with the barrel of his rifle. The body was stiff and unyielding. It also smelled of death and feces. With no one to feed or give these people their medicines, they had died wherever they had rolled themselves. Shining the flashlight on the second wheelchair in the atrium, he spotted his Aunt Jenny. She too had died in her chair while waiting for something.

A wave of regret washed over Carlton. True, he was not Jenny and Bill's child, he still felt like he should have come sooner or done more for them. He tried to visit as often as he could, but he had his own family to worry about. Carlton shook himself out of his sadness and continued his sweep of the atrium.

The third wheelchair was empty.

"Stay sharp. There may be more moving in here than old Jerry."

There was another hissing fluid sound from behind them to the right. Both Mikayla's light and the light on his rifle illuminated Jerry taking a drink from the water fountain. Then they also heard a dragging noise.

Emerging from behind the half wall that separated hallway from the atrium emerged a slow moving zombie. The zombie was a former patient. She must have crawled right past Jerry. From the dress and the obvious wig, Carlton recognized her as one of the patients who lived just down the hall from Aunt Jenny. Her name used to be Mildred. The left side of her face was chewed off.

From what he remembered, she was the sharpest of the patients in the ALF. Her main issue was mobility. She lacked the strength to stand or move herself around in her wheelchair. But here she was dragging her undead form across the ground. The virus did not make them any stronger. The zombie still had the limitations of the body that it took over. They just did not fatigue the way the living did.

"There are zombies in here. Stay alert. Don't get to close too anyone," Carlton warned.

Carlton took aim and fired a single shot that blew off the back of undead Mildred's head. She dropped to the ground, unmoving. The girls were impressed. The only sound the rifle made was a light pop. The sound of the chamber cycling was louder than the shot and the clink of brass on the tile floor was louder still. That was a quiet rifle.

Meredith whispered, "Where do you think the zombie is that bit the old lady? And why did that one not attack Jerry. He was right there and she moved within inches of him."

With a shrug, Carlton pointed to Mildred's now still form, "I don't know, ask her."

Both girls simultaneously responded, "Smart ass."

Carlton grinned fiercely as if he was paid a wonderful compliment.

They turned and continued their movement across the atrium. Ahead of them was the dining area. There was a small enclosed room in the center that was for family visits with their loved one. It had a glassed in wall and door so other residents could watch their lucky fellow inmate eat with family or friends. To either side was a small dining area with five tables on each side. There were four place settings on each square table.

Carlton advanced slowly. The two figures at the tables did not move. The first was an elderly white man. His dentures were on the table next to his head. He had his hands folded on the table with his head resting on them.

Again, Carlton prodded the back of the man. This one sat up straight and opened and closed his mouth a few times. To announce to the world that he was now fully awake, the man proceeded to let loose a terrific fart. The methane released from the man's bowels did not improve the scent cocktail that permeated the room.

Carlton studied the man. His skin looked normal as well, besides a few liver spots. There was no sign of the virus in him. He did not turn to look behind him.

"Damn. That just stinks. I bet it's been a while since you have been changed too. Poor guy."

Carlton did not recognized him but had seen him before. He had rather advanced dementia and was usually found asleep. Carlton had spotted him trying doors on previous visits looking for a way out. Not seeing anyone, the man laid his head back down on the table and closed his eyes.

Seeing how slowly the living were moving around the room, Mikayla asked, "if there are zombies in here, how are Jerry and this guy still normal, er, almost normal? They can't get away from them."

"I have no idea. Maybe, when the mind is as far gone as these folks, the virus has no interest in it. Whatever it feeds on, is no longer present."

"But that old lady zombie, she was turned," Meredith responded.

"Ah, she did not have Alzheimer's or dementia. Her daughter is an asshole. She locked her up in here, paid the bill for a year and never came by to visit. The place wanted to release her to a nicer place but the daughter would not respond. She was a wonderful lady. She had great stories about entertaining soldiers during the Korean War while working for the USO."

"So zombies only want healthy brains. That explains why Meredith is still around," quipped Mikayla.

In response, Meredith held up a middle finger in Mikayla's face.

The next body in repose at a table was dead. They could smell the death coming off of the lady. Her head was lying in a bowl of long cold soup. The back of the dining area was again separated off from a hallway by half walls that were less than four feet high. The gap in the middle of the half wall revealed a pair of legs wearing a white pants and tennis shoes. A bite mark was present on the leg. Carlton leaned over the wall and saw the body of the nurse. It was Penny. She was the kindest of the nursing staff. She greeted all of the patients with a hug and a kiss. Now she lay not just undead, but truly dead as a frying pan had caved in the side of her head. Someone swung that pan with a bit of force to drop the undead Penny like that. The pan that had done her in was lying beside the body.