A Little More Dead (3 page)

Chapter
Four

After setting the dead kid behind a
small garden shed, Paul and Dan took a long look around with the moonlight
reflecting off the freshly fallen snow. Not counting the monsters hiding in the
shadows, it was beautiful.
Peaceful.
From here you
would never know the industrialized world was busy collapsing.

Dan jerked his head to a swath of bushy
pines. “Did you hear that?”

“No,” Paul replied, pulling his coat up
over his neck and jogging for the backdoor like vampires might swoop down next.
And at this point, anything was possible. Once back inside the kitchen, they locked
the door and tried shaking off the cold clinging to their clothes like smoke.

“I can’t feel my fingers anymore,” Dan
said, removing his gloves and blowing into his cupped hands. “I’m serious, man.
This shit hurts.”

“Let me see.” Paul lit up Dan’s hands
with the flashlight, examining his fingertips for signs of frostbite. “Do you
wanna
go turn the heat on in the Jeep for a few minutes?
Thaw out some more water while you’re in there.”

“By myself?
No thanks.” He
rubbed his hands together. “Plus we’re low on gas.”

“Jesus Christ,” Paul whispered. “Why
didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we were kind of busy rescuing a
family, and it was getting dark. We’ll siphon something in the morning.”

Paul nodded and went back into the
kitchen to mop a towel around the bloodstained floor with his snowy boot. Dan
grabbed more towels from a linen closet and helped Paul rub red circles into
the cracked flooring. They worked in silence, listening to Carla tell Sophia
she was a divorced thirty-six year-old who had watched two neighbors murder her
parents right before her very eyes.

“That is horrible,” Sophia said softly.

Paul stopped the towel. It was good to
hear her consoling voice again.

“My parents used to play bridge with
them every week too!” Carla laughed like she was recalling some funny moment at
the grocery store earlier in the week. “My ex lives in California and after the
phones went dead I had no idea what to do. Hell, even Bill O’Reilly had no idea
what to do, which was a first!” She punctuated the statement with another
nervous cackle that made Paul and Dan swap a heavy glance. Carla’s laughter faded
into a thick lull. The wind whistled in the silence stretching between the two
rooms and when Carla resumed her horrid tale she spoke in a much graver tone,
one that sent chills down Paul’s spine.

“By the time we worked up the courage to
leave my parents’ house, those
things
were all over the place. Luckily,
my mom’s minivan was parked inside the garage.” She paused for a passing
sniffle. “And thanks to my dad, bless his
heart, that
man never let a vehicle get under half a tank. Said it was irresponsible, but
personally I think he was obsessive-compulsive. Either way, the power was out
and the garage door wouldn’t open so I drove through it. The boys were
screaming so loud I thought my head was going to explode.”

Paul surveyed the kitchen floor they’d
managed to reduce to a pink spot, wondering how many other people got lucky
like Carla and her boys. There had to be others who parked in the right spot,
or owned the right fence, or had the right weapons. It was in the odds.

“It felt like we were running over
telephone poles when I backed down the driveway,” Carla continued in a cold
whisper. “But they weren’t telephone poles; they were my parents’ neighbors and
friends.” She clapped a hand over her mouth, muffling her words.
“Some of them younger than Matthew.”

Paul kicked the bloody towel off to the
side and checked the solar powered G-Shock on his wrist. It’d been one hour
since the repairman and no one else had followed in his lumbering tracks. They
would spend the night in the living room on pillows and blankets, together. In this
world, no one goes alone. Paul’s biggest fear was a group of the undead surrounding
them while they slept, entombing them inside the farmhouse with its dusty standard-definition
TV and Hummel figurines. In anticipation of just such a scenario, he parked the
Jeep in a ready-to-go position outside the back door. If more than a handful or
two showed up at once, they would carve a path to the rig and take their
chances elsewhere. It was all about increasing the odds in their favor. Every
step, or misstep, counted.

When Paul entered the living room, Carla
sat up straighter and swiped at her wet cheeks. “Thank you again for saving our
lives. All of you.” She placed a hand over her heart. “If you wouldn’t have
stopped, I don’t know what…”

“We’re just glad everyone is okay,” Dan
said, dropping into a pea green armchair.

Carla’s glassy eyes bounced to Paul. “So,
we’re going to the ocean, huh?”

He sat on the arm of Sophia’s recliner,
wondering if Carla invited herself along for the ride or if Sophia extended the
offer while he and Dan were outside disposing of the dead kid’s body. Not that it
mattered; they would never leave them here on their own, but it bugged him just
the same. “I figure we’ll keep heading south on I-35, avoid the big cities along
the way and put our backs to the ocean where we can figure out our next move
without freezing our butts off.”

“I cannot wait.” Dan folded his arms
across his chest. “I can’t feel my toes anymore and I’m not even kidding.”

Mike turned to Carla. “Hey mom, are
there going to be man-eating sharks in the ocean?”

“What? No, sweetie, there are not going
to be man-eating sharks in the ocean.”

“I don’t
wanna
get eaten by a shark!” Matt cried, turning on the waterworks again.

Paul rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm
around Sophia, pulling her against him. She still had that shell-shocked look
on her face and that was okay. It would pass. He hoped.

“You are not going to get eaten by a shark,
Peanut! What is wrong with you?”

“Guys, I think all the sharks have moved
on to other spots.”

Both boys blinked blankly at Dan.

“Because of all the
oil?”
Mike finally asked.

“Oil?”

“Yeah, in the
Gulf.”

He nodded. “That’s exactly right. Sharks
hate oil.”

“Why?” Matt asked.

“Well,” Dan said, clearing his throat,
“because it gets in their gills and they can’t breathe.”

“I thought they cleaned the oil up.”

Matt shook his head. “I hope they didn’t
because then the sharks will come back.”

Paul cast a sideways look at Dan and
exhaled a spent breath. “Okay, any other indispensable questions?”

“Just one,” Carla said, raising a hand.
“Is this beach going to have a
tiki
bar?” she asked,
cranking up her cackle-box again.

Paul tried to smile back, but she made
him nervous. If she learned to relax during the heat of the moment, she might
be able to handle a small gun without killing any of them but her mouth and
alcohol seemed like a dangerous combination. He shifted his weight on the arm
of the chair. “What did you do before any of this happened anyway?
For work?”

Carla’s lips bent downward. “Me? I was a
realtor for Morton Realty. Why?”

His hope sank.
“Just
wondering.”

Paul couldn’t stitch a hole in a shirt
let alone a bad wound and Dan’s experience as manager of the Apple store in the
mall was zero help in this powerless world as well. With the hospitals turning
into walking cemeteries, they would need to befriend a doctor or nurse and soon.
They had to set themselves up. “Alright, here’s the deal, you’re going to have
to carry your weight around here, and that means keeping your head during the
tough times.” He looked to Matt and Mike. “And believe
me,
we’re going to hit some rough patches. I’m not even going to lie.”

The three signaled their agreement with
rapid head nods.

Paul’s chocolate-colored gaze jerked
back to Carla. “You’re also going to have to learn how to shoot a gun.”

Her face brightened. “My ex was an avid
hunter; I know my way around a gun.”

“So do
I
!” Mike
added.

Paul arched an eyebrow at him. “You do?”

“I’ve shot my dad’s guns at the range a
ton of times,” Mike proudly stated, puffing his chest out. “Plus, I play
Big Buck Hunter
.”

Sophia laughed and it was music to
Paul’s ears.

“I shot a real deer one time!” Matt
piped in.

Mike turned to his younger brother, face
slumping in the moonlight. “No…you didn’t.”

“I did too.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did!”

“Did not!”

“Boys!”
Carla glared at
them. “We have to be quiet now at all times. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” they said as one dull voice,
sinking back into the couch.

“This isn’t a game, and we only get one
life.”

Dan traded a worried look with Paul as silence
took the room, dense and cold to the touch. Carla was right, quiet was for the
best but it was also fuel for a mind spinning out of control.

“Didn’t,” Mike whispered.

“I’ll shoot you right fucking now!”

“Matthew Jay Patton!” Carla slapped a
hand over her mouth, surprised and unnerved by her rise in volume. She flashed
everyone an apologetic look and softened her voice. “You are not shooting
anyone, and if I ever hear you use the F-word again...”

Matt stared up her with his jaw
dangling. “You’ll what mom? Ground me?”

Carla’s throat clicked dryly when she
swallowed. “We just need for you boys to keep quiet.” She stared at them
through wet eyes that meant business. “Okay?”

They nodded, making way for a lull in
the conversation. Paul took Sophia by the hand and towed her to some pillows
and blankets behind the couch, wondering what it would look like out there tomorrow
morning when the sun slowly peeked over the eastern horizon like even
it
was afraid to look. So far, every morning
it looked a little worse.
A little more dead.
Paul
laid
down next to his wife and yawned, thanking God he and
Sophia never had that little girl or boy they were so desperately trying to
have. He couldn’t imagine what Carla must be going through and, thankfully,
didn’t have to try. For soon after, the Sandman was the only other intruder
that night, light on his feet and heavy in the hand.

Chapter
Five

TWO DAYS BEFORE OUTBREAK

Back at home, Paul hung his coat on a
coat rack behind the front door and rounded up some pre-Metallica empties,
cringing when he saw it was already past two in the morning.

“I love your house.”

He glanced at Rebecca from the open
kitchen, watching her dump her coat onto Sophia’s favorite chair. “Thanks.”

“Your wife has a great sense of style.”

Paul retrieved two cold beers from the
fridge, shuddering at the mention of his wife. This was so wrong it wasn’t even
funny.
Another woman in Sophia’s house?
At two-twenty-three in the morning?
Out of nowhere, the
liquid courage running through his bloodstream told him to relax. Rebecca was
just spending the night because of a mix-up at the hotel and that was the truth.
A bit of a flirt maybe, she was harmless. He shut the fridge door and jumped
when he found her standing on the other side. “Damn girl, you move like a cat.”

She meowed drunkenly and ran her
red-painted claws down his muscular chest.

Paul popped the tops, handed her a
bottle, and squeezed past into the living room, second-guessing his every move.
This was beyond a bad idea. He felt like Sophia was watching him through the
picture of them resting on the mantelpiece. Her beautiful green eyes – thinned
by the bright Maui sun – now looked accusatory and threatening. He sat down on
the couch and Rebecca plopped down next to him, invading his space with the sour
smell of alcohol on her breath and a fresh dab of perfume on her neck. His eyes
meandered over the plump mounds peeking out from her tank top, stirring the
fire inside.

She rested a soft hand on his knee for
balance and kicked off her heels before curling up next to him. “You have
tomorrow off?”

“I do.” The warmth of her hand seeped
through his jeans and into his flesh like acid.

“That’s so sad.” She shifted on the
couch, discreetly moving her hand to the inside of his thigh.
“All alone for the weekend.”

“I’ve got Netflix.”

Eyes glittering with heat, she took a
slow drink and scanned the living room, investigating what type of woman had lured
Paul into marriage.

“Kids?”

He pressed his lips together. “Not yet.”

“Trying?”

He exhaled a worn-out breath.
“For awhile now.”
Just the thought of it made him tired. He
was a failure and making love with Sophia wasn’t about making love anymore; it
was about making a baby. It was another chore to add to the list, right up there
with shoveling and taking out the garbage. There were scheduled romps,
ovulation tests, vitamins. She’d even tried to get him to stop drinking for a
while and he had laughed out loud. Like this shit wasn’t hard enough already!
And whenever he dared to throw out the
adoption
word, Sophia turned to ice like he was speaking in the Devil’s tongue. She was
nowhere near ready to give up. Not yet.

“It took my sister, Joan, three years to
get pregnant.”

His eyes snapped back to Rebecca,
forehead creasing. “Three years?”

She nodded. “They tried everything too.
It was really hard on her and Tyler.” She paused for a sip of beer. “How long
have you been trying?”

Paul sighed before coming clean,
embarrassed to even say.
“Almost a year.”

“Oh, a year is nothing. It takes a lot
of couples longer than a year to get knocked up.”

A low groan slipped past his lips.

Her eyes thinned. “Are you thinking of
taking a break? Because
that can
sometimes jumpstart
things down the road.”

He leaned his head back against the
couch and stared at the ceiling. “She will flip out if I take a break, but I
feel like a lab rat.”

Rebecca clicked a red nail against the
beer bottle in her hands, knees pressing against his leg. “How many times a day
are you having sex?” she asked as if she were enquiring about his workout
schedule.

Paul shifted uneasily on the couch and
caught Sophia’s prying eyes on the mantle. It was just as wrong to answer as it
was having Rebecca here in the first place and he damn well knew it. “Once or
twice,” he lied, taking a long drink, head already buzzing from too many long
drinks. The truth was he’d been avoiding Sophia in the bedroom, throwing out
the usual excuses: Too tired, don’t feel
well,
have to
get up early for work, etc.

Rebecca nodded quietly, studying his
strong profile. “Have you tried doing it upside down?”

He choked when he swallowed and coughed
into his hand. “Not yet, but let me write that down.”

She squeezed his thigh. “Don’t laugh! It
worked for my sister.”

His eyes sobered.
“Seriously?”

“Well, it was either that or the reverse
cowgirl; they aren’t one hundred percent sure.”

His heart skipped a beat when her
fingertips brushed against the bulge hiding inside his oily jeans. He scooted
away. “Listen, Rebecca…” His words died when she pressed her soft lips against
his. He watched her eyes fall shut and felt her tongue slither inside his
mouth, her sweet saliva mixing with his. A flutter of butterflies launched in
his stomach, her perfume casting a spell he could not shake. Paul broke their
kiss when she squeezed his crotch.

Rebecca smiled, clearly pleased with his
reaction. “Maybe you just need some more practice, Paul.”

Frozen somewhere between fear and
pleasure, he watched her slowly unzip his jeans, helpless to stop her, heart
racing as her hand disappeared inside. He inhaled a sharp breath when her warm fingers
coiled around his erection.

Her eyes widened. “Oh my,” she whispered,
pulling it out. “Somebody’s happy to see me.”

Paul swallowed against the lump in the
back of his throat, hating himself for even having an erection let alone seeing
it out of his pants. He tried to prevent her hand from pumping his dick but couldn’t
move, paralyzed by her sweet strokes. Rebecca wet her lips, taking pride in the
twisted look warping his face. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, adding to the
dream-like state pulling him in. She flashed him an impish grin and tossed her
hair over her shoulder before bending over into his lap.

Paul pushed her away. “I’m sorry,” he
said, scrambling to his feet and zipping his jeans up. “But this is a bad
idea.”

She stared at the throbbing bulge inside
his pants, chewing on a pinkie. “Sometimes the best things come from bad
ideas.”

His eyes roamed the room, mind racing.
What had he done? He loved Sophia. Yet here he was with another woman,
desecrating everything in the blink of an eye. Turning from his wife’s wounded
gaze on the mantle, he pulled his cell phone from his jeans, desperate to go
back in time and never do this again. But it was too late for that. There was
no going back. There was only doing the right thing from here on out and it was
obvious what he had to do first. He had to come clean with Sophia. There was no
way around it because this dirty little secret would eat him alive from the
inside out and that was no way to go through life.

Fuck!

His subconscious screamed at him over
the rapid beating of his own heart.

What
did you do? You idiot!

Paul could smell Rebecca on him and it
turned his stomach. He needed to take a shower and burn his clothes but first
he pressed the cell phone to his ear, ignoring Rebecca’s nonplussed stare as
the phone took its sweet ass time starting to ring.
Come on!
He took a steadying breath, running endless combinations
of words through his head to ease Sophia’s fall, none of which made a damn bit
of sense. The phone kept ringing. She didn’t deserve this and things were about
to change. This would forever taint their beautiful relationship, if not kill
it completely.
And for what?
To boost his ego after
failing to produce offspring like all the other normal men he knew? To prove he
could still satisfy somebody in bed? A woman finally answered the goddamn phone
and Paul spoke way too fast. “Yeah, I need a cab.”