Zombiekill (2 page)

“You see anything?” asked Jemma.

Charlie saw a lot of things. She saw Mr. Riley’s front door swinging on its hinges as the dead walked in and out of his house freely. She saw the hundreds of zombies littering the road, staggering around looking for the living. She saw a dead girl in a pink vest gnawing on a clean white bone. She saw a tall man with a bald head stumble in the middle of the road as his intestines slopped out of him, wrapping around his thin legs. She saw a small boy clutching a toy fire engine in his hands, half of his skull missing, and a gaping hole in his chest where his heart should be. She saw a lot of things, but she didn’t see anyone running.

“No, Mom. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe it was one of the corpses.”

“I don’t think it was.” Jemma scratched at a small spot forming on her neck. “We haven’t seen one of them running for a while now.”

“Mom, forget it. There’s nobody out there.” Charlie pulled away from the window, not wanting to look any more. It was too much. There were so many people, so many dead neighbors and friends always there, always just
there
. She hated it. Her bedroom was the one place she had to herself. She had her books and music and photographs and memories, and now they had ruined it. Below her window the dead clattered clumsily into cars, into the walls, into each other; the noise was a constant reminder of the death that awaited them all. It was as if they were poking fun at her. Think you’re getting rescued? Ha, the only place you’re going is straight to Hell.

Charlie sat back down on her bed as Jemma continued to watch out of the square window. “Come on, Mom, forget it. We might not have seen them running for a long time, but in case you forgot, that was also the last time we saw anyone else alive out there.”

“Don’t forget Arthur Atwood. He’s still up there,” said Jemma quietly, without taking her eyes away from the window.

Charlie hated it when her Mom talked about Arthur Atwood. He was once the richest man in the area who built himself a mansion up on the hill. He made a fortune in Portland selling real estate before moving out to Peterborough, claiming he wanted to ‘get away from it all.’ He became a self-styled philanthropist and did a lot of good for the town, which was why they turned a blind eye to the ugly mansion he had built on the hill outside town. It was something of an eyesore that the locals tolerated. At night Charlie could see it, just, from her bedroom. Even now the lights came on suggesting he was still there. As far as Charlie cared, he could stay there. It would be impossible ever reaching the house, and was he really any better off than them? All the millions of dollars he had, and he was still stuck in his house just like them with nothing but a few thousand zombies for company.

“So what? You think it’s Arthur out there? Maybe we should invite him in for a coffee?”

“Charlie Gretzinger, stop being stupid. I’m telling you there was someone out… There! A woman!”

Charlie bolted up and looked out of the window. She gasped when she saw that her mother was right. A figure darted from behind the courier van to the large witch hazel shrub by Mr. Riley’s house. It was a woman, though she was so filthy that she almost looked like one of them. Her clothes were rags, and the color of her hair was indistinguishable from the rest of the grime that covered her from head to toe.

“Jesus, Mom, who is it?” Charlie peered anxiously through the window. The woman was thin, probably starving. She had to be desperate to have gone out onto the streets. “What do they want?”

Jemma unlatched the window and pushed it open. Instantly, the sounds of the dead grew louder, and Charlie felt sick. They mumbled and groaned, and the sound of their feet scraping along the road made her skin crawl. There was nothing evil about them; they didn’t show menace or emotions or kill through anything other than what seemed to be basic, natural impulses. They were disgusting, and Charlie turned up her nose as the corpses’ smell began to permeate her bedroom.

“Mom, what are you doing? Shut it,” whispered Charlie. She tried to bring the window closed, but Jemma pushed her back and glared at her.

“No. We have to help her. We can’t leave that poor woman out there.”

“We don’t even know who she is. For all we know she could be—”

“Could be what?” Jemma bit her lip and looked at Charlie. “Look, I know you’re scared, but she needs our help. We can’t just turn her away. If we leave her out there like that she’ll die. We have a nice house and plenty of room, and I’m not going to turn away and forget I saw her.”

Charlie watched as her mother swung the window wide open and leaned over the ledge. Jemma let out a low whistle. Calling out would only alert the dead and cut off any hope of safe passage to the house. She needed to try to get the strange woman’s attention carefully. Jemma whistled again and began beckoning over to the house with both hands.

“Is she coming?” Charlie kept her voice to a whisper, afraid that anything louder could suddenly bring a hundred dead people up into her room. They couldn’t climb the fence around the house, but with the window open, she didn’t feel very secure.

Through the open window, Charlie heard the woman scream. “Help, me!”

“Fuck.” Jemma turned away from the window and ran across to the door, the red dress flowing gracefully around her.

“Mom, what’s happening?” asked Charlie nervously. She didn’t want to look. She couldn’t stand to see it happen again. In the early days she had seen too many people die horribly. She didn’t need to watch it happen again.

“She’s making a run for it. She’s coming here. I’ve got to get down to the front gate and let her in before they catch her. Get your father.”

The woman outside screamed again, her voice echoing around Charlie’s bedroom and coating the walls and floor with a desperate plea for her life. Charlie felt sick again and shook her head.

“No, Mom, we can’t. Dad said it was too dangerous. We should—”

“Charlie, just get your father—now! I am
not
leaving her out there to die.” Jemma raced out of the room, leaving Charlie foundering. The noise from outside the house was increasing, and her mother’s footsteps were thundering through the house as she ran downstairs. Who was this woman? Who was crazy enough to go outside? It was selfish, that was what it was. They were going to draw all the zombies to the house, and then they would be stuck forever. Charlie knew she had to get her father. He would know what to do.

“Dad? Dad!” Charlie sprang into action and raced out of her room, down into the lounge. Shafts of bright sunlight shone through the blinds illuminating the room, but he wasn’t there. “Dad?”

Charlie called out frantically, but she couldn’t hear any movement from within the house. He had been looking for something. Was he in the garage?

“Dad, where are you?”

As Charlie ran out of the back door into the driveway, Kyler came running from the garage. He wielded a large crowbar above his head, and his eyes were wide open. They were no longer full of lust but worry and fear.

“What’s going on? I heard a scream. Where’s your Mother?”

Charlie sucked in a deep breath. “It’s a woman. Out there. She’s the one who screamed. She was by Mr. Riley’s house, and… I don’t know who she is. I told her to forget it, but Mom wanted to help. I didn’t know where you were. I thought…”

Kyler grabbed Charlie’s shoulders, and his eyes bore into hers. “Where’s Jemma? Where’s your Mother?”

Charlie glanced back at the long driveway that led to the front gate. High brick walls sheltered the driveway from the neighbors, and the front gate was made of thick iron railings. “She wanted to let her in, before the others—”

Kyler shoved his daughter out of the way and sprinted down the long driveway toward the road. “Jemma. Wait, Jemma. Don’t open the gate.”

The sun warmed Charlie as she stood there watching her father run after her mother. He ran like a maniac, as if he were possessed. He was waving the crowbar above his head like a soldier going into battle. Surely her mother would wait? She knew how risky it was to open the gate. They hadn’t opened it in months. There was just no need. They ran the risk of letting the corpses in if they did, so it stayed shut. Kyler had drilled it into Charlie to never go out there, not that she needed any convincing.

“Jemma!”

Charlie heard her father call out and then began the long walk down their drive to the road. Charlie felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as she walked through the yard to the side of the house. This woman was going to ruin it all. Today was supposed to be a good day. Instead she had fucked it up. Her father was angry, understandably, and her mother was risking the security of their house by letting her in. The woman had ruined everything.

As Charlie turned the corner, she broke into a jog. Her father was almost at the end of the drive, and beyond him Charlie could make out her mother. There were figures shambling around in the road, and Charlie saw the woman running for their house. Several corpses were following her, and Charlie felt the knot in her stomach tighten. The front gate was open.

“Mom?”

Charlie shivered in the sunlight as she broke into a sprint. She ran as hard as she could, trying to catch up with her father ahead of her. Something wasn’t right. Why wasn’t her mother answering? Why had she rushed ahead like that? The woman was almost at the gate now. To Charlie she seemed to be running slowly, as if she had no energy left. How long had she been out there? Charlie knew her mother was right. They couldn’t ignore her. They couldn’t turn the other cheek and pretend they hadn’t seen her. As Charlie ran and neared the end of the drive, she saw her father raise the crowbar and bring it down sharply on the head of a corpse that had gotten near the front gate. Christ, what had her mother done?

The gate was open.             

Charlie’s whole body shook as she ran. Sweat stung her eyes as she neared the gate, and she saw her father drive the crowbar through the forehead of a corpse trying to push its way through. Behind him, the screaming woman fell to the ground. Three zombies immediately pounced on her, with more following. Charlie watched as the woman was submerged beneath a tide of moving dead corpses, all biting and scratching and pulling at the woman’s skin. The screaming stopped quickly.

That’s when Charlie noticed her mother. She was laying on the ground just outside the gate, her blood pooling on the road around her red dress. There was a huge gash in her neck and blood around her head too. Jemma’s mouth was open, but no sound came out. A zombie had hold of her legs and was biting her thighs, ripping out huge chunks of flesh.

“Mom!” Charlie raced to the open gate, but Kyler blocked her path. He slammed the crowbar into another zombie and shoved Charlie back. She fell over and watched as her father extended a hand through the gate.

“Jemma. Take my hand. Come on. I can’t… I can’t…”

Charlie watched as her mother reached out a hand, but she was too far away. She had gone outside the gate, onto the open road. She was only six, maybe eight feet away, but she may as well be a hundred. Another zombie found Jemma and jumped on her, plunging its gaping jaws into her abdomen. Charlie saw her mother screw up her eyes, and her face contorted and twisted in pain as a huge piece of flesh was ripped away from her stomach. The silver pendant around her neck reflected the sunlight and briefly dazzled Charlie. She blinked away the tears, and when she looked back at her mother, the life in her eyes had gone. Her body had stopped moving, and her arms had gone limp. Another zombie had discovered her and was gnawing on her left leg, pulling away the smooth skin with its teeth as if shredding a chicken.

Charlie rolled onto her stomach and threw up. Her vomit was sour, and she started to panic. They were all going to get in. They were all going to die. Her mother was going to die. Her mother was dead. She was dead, dead, dead. It wasn’t the sight of the blood that brought more bile and vomit up Charlie’s throat, it was the bloodcurdling scream that her father uttered. She knew then that it was over.

With a huge shove, Kyler pushed the gate shut and locked it. He dropped the crowbar on the drive and then crawled over to his daughter. He pulled Charlie to him, and Charlie waited for him to pull her closer so they could share their grief, so that they could comfort one another. Instead she felt the sharp sting of his slap and she recoiled, clutching a hand to her cheek.

“What…?” Charlie looked at her father, not recognizing the man who sat before her. Sweat ringed his face and dripped from his nose. As he swept his brown hair from his eyes she saw a fierce anger in them that she had not seen before. She felt terrified of him in that instant and knew things would never be the same again as he grabbed her shoulders. “What have you done, Charlie? You know what they can do. What the fuck have you done?”

The tears flowed freely down her cheeks, and Charlie wished her mother was back inside the house. She wished she had found her father sooner and that she was anywhere else but here. There was nowhere to run. Her father slapped her again, and he dug his fingers into Charlie’s soft skin as he shook her shoulder like a rag doll.

Kyler screamed in her face, spit spraying his daughter’s face. “What were you two doing? How could you let this happen, Charlie? What the
fuck
were you doing?”

Kyler pushed Charlie away, and she fell back, cracking the back of her head on the hard driveway. He stood over her like a giant, pointing a thick finger at her, anger burning his cheeks.