Among the Living (23 page)

He dragged the smaller TV downstairs earlier and put it on the shelf where the big flat screen sits. The bigger TV looked like a shadow of the smaller one. Then he hooked up the cable box and fed everything into a power strip. Now it looks like a weird squid left in the center of the room. The connection is rigged to the generator through a long extension cord that snakes across the floor and up the stairs. He pushes the switch on the strip, and the little amber light comes on. He wonders how much electricity that thing can put out, so he switches on the TV first, then the cable box. They have juice!

Both come to life, and the room is filled with artificial light for the first time in days. One of the local channels comes on, but it is just a channel identification sign. The next channel is running a sitcom he has seen a few times. He watches it for a minute, trying to appreciate the humor the way he does when he is high, but it just isn’t that funny now.

“Oh wow, things must not be that bad if they are showing this crap.”

“Huh?”

“Well if the shit really has hit the fan out there, then we would see nothing but coverage of it on every channel. I mean, maybe it’s just us and there’s help on the way.”

Angela is quiet as she looks at him. Her face is painted a hopeful shade in the shallow light of the TV. He wishes he could be more reassuring. He picks up his pipe, wincing at his various bumps, bruises, and scrapes. He is going to be one sore puppy in the morning. He changes the channel again but runs up against another channel identification placard. The next two channels are just colored bars. When he finally reaches CNN, the screen switches over to a live studio where a smiling blonde is talking about the latest celebrity gossip.

The local news channel is next, and—bingo!—here is what he has been waiting for.

The newscaster looks concerned. His eyebrows are pulled together, but before Lester can listen in, the screen flips to a live outdoor camera. They are at the bottom of Queen Anne Hill, where the police have set up a series of roadblocks. Farther up the road, people drift down the hill on foot, bags and boxes in hand. A few of them ride bikes, and one is on an electric scooter.

“As you can see, the authorities are still blocking access to the Queen Anne neighborhood while the leak is taken care of. Residents are being asked to leave in as orderly a fashion as possible and to take only what they can carry. This is day two of Crisis on the Hill.”

The newscaster goes on to explain that the leak has caused people to become sick, disoriented. If approached, please be cautious. If attacked, try to be as humane as possible by locking them inside or securing them to something.

Lester smiles around a puff of smoke. The acrid odor burning down his throat makes him want to choke and cough. At least it isn’t that bad out there. He is sure the government will be able to take care of them in no time.

Then he thinks of the bodies in front of the house. Oh shit, did they say to treat those fuckers humanely? Hide the bodies, his mind whispers, just stash them when the street is clear. They’ll never know where the shots came from with all the chaos. His mind sinks into a haze of marijuana that allows him to escape from reality for a while. Yeah, man, soon as the government gets here.

The gun warms in her grip; she has been sitting for several minutes, thinking. Her life is gone, her husband, her son; her house will never be the same. She stares down the barrel and thinks about the end.

Just a squeeze and it will all be over. What will it feel like when the bullet enters her forehead? Will she feel it exit? Will there be pain or just a blast of nothingness? Will she hear the boom as the gun fires? She has fired this pistol before, and she remembers how loud it is, not like the shows on TV where they fire guns in closed rooms and can talk afterwards.

What about the girl? Will she be okay? She seems to be doing a hell of a lot better than me. She sighs as she thinks about abandoning the child. She lowers the gun, grabs her keys off the floor and makes for the door. She comes around the corner of the room and nearly crashes into her rescuer. She runs down the hall full tilt, and they both scare each other into little screams. Alice stares at her and then almost chuckles at the frightened expression on the girl’s face. It is probably a replica of the one on hers.

“Where were you? He was moving, and I don’t think I can hit him again.”

“I’m sorry. I had to get something.”

“Can we go now? I need to check on my mom,” she says in a small voice.

“Is she like my husband?” Alice stares into the girl’s raccoon eyes, realizing that they are a pool of emerald green, red rimmed and filled with tears.

“Yeah. But I have to do something.”

“Why don’t we check with the police and see if they can help us out first?”

The girl follows her like a lost puppy as she storms out the door. Alice comes around the corner, and the little silver car is sitting just as she left it. The street is quiet, the sudden silence shocking set against the chaos of the last few minutes. A crow caws in the distance, then another answers. For some reason, this sends a shiver down her spine.

“Where is he?” the girl asks under her breath.

Alice spins around in a full circle and realizes that her dear husband is nowhere to be seen. They run to the side of the car while images from bad horror movies of people unable to get their keys into locks hit her. But the door reacts to the electronic key she carries, so when she puts her hand on the door, it immediately opens.

The girl waits at the side of the car, turning her head back and forth in a frantic scanning motion.

“It’s open. The doors are automatic …” Her voice turns into a scream as Ken rises from behind the compact.

His head is off kilter, just to the side. A portion of his skull sticks out; his hair is matted with blood and dirt, and for a mad second, she wishes he would take a shower so he can go to his grave looking clean. The girl dances away from the car as Ken closes in on her. Alice doesn’t really think, she just opens the door and slides inside, then triggers the automatic lock.

She stares at the shambling thing that was her husband as he bears down on the girl. The teen picks up her skateboard and swings it in a menacing manner. It thumps against Ken’s dangling hand. It does the job of pushing him off balance. He almost falls but turns back around faster than Alice has seen him move before. His mouth opens, as does the girl’s, but the car drowns out any sound.

Alice hits the button on the dash, and the car starts, but she freezes in horror, unable to move as she sits in the safe confines of the car.

“Run, I’ll pick you up!” Alice yells.

The girl looks at Alice as she scrambles backwards, but she cannot make out Alice’s words. Alice pumps the gas and spins the wheel to the left. A moment of clarity pops into her brain in which she imagines herself running Ken over and saving the girl. Oh God, Ken, how did it come to this? She slams her hand on the dash. It sends a jolt of agony up her arm from the bite mark. The car jerks forward as the shock drives her foot into the accelerator.

Ken shoots his head to the right at the sudden sound, and the girl takes the opportunity to run. Only she doesn’t make the first step, as her foot comes down on a large rock, which sends her sprawling. Her skateboard slides away, and her hands splay out in the gravel.

* * *

Your heart thunders in your chest just once, then after an eternity, the great organ shudders to life and thumps again. It comes in intermittent beats, but each one is a blast of life. There is no pain, barely any thought—you are driven by pure instinct. Your prey has been difficult, but you don’t care. There is damage, but you work around it.

You hovered near the ground patiently, something telling you that they would return, and return they did. Talking, jabbering, noises that don’t make sense. The smaller one is on the same side from which you emerge, and all you can think about is her warm blood oozing down your throat, the feel of flesh between your teeth. The gnashing and tearing. Something to fill the tremendous hollow that has become your world. The emptiness beats at you like a furnace that radiates from your center and makes you want to scream in frustration.

You are on your feet, unsteady but moving. She is just there, her flesh warm and glowing. One foot in front of another, you move as fast as they will allow. She glances into your eyes, and hers go suddenly large. She stifles a scream and backs up. She swings her weapon at you, but misses. A loud noise, a distraction, you turn your head toward it, and she uses the moment to turn and run. Only her run turns into a fall as she goes down.

Triumph! You nearly howl with need as she goes flat. You are on her in an instant, hands digging into her body, mouth seeking her flesh. She tries to swing her elbow back, but you ignore the pitiful blow and take in a mouthful of hair. Then your lips close on the meat that has been taunting you forever, and you tear into it with genuine relish.

* * *

Alice howls as she comes out of the car. She has the gun in a shaky hand and raises it mechanically. “KEN, NO!” she screams and moves around the car door. Ken wraps around the girl like some hulking wraith gone mad. He moans as he chews. The girl struggles. She tries to scream, but all Alice hears is hoarse cries. Ken digs his face into her neck and worries at the skin like a beast. He pulls back, and there is a horrible ripping sound.

Alice staggers forward, aims the gun at her husband and doesn’t pull the trigger. Tears flow from her eyes as she struggles to hold the pistol straight. Her vision goes blurry, but she can’t pull trigger. What if she hits the girl? Don’t be silly, she says to herself. The girl is done for. The realization that she has failed to protect the young woman rocks her back. She failed the girl with no name. She realizes it with a sudden staggering breath—she never got the girl’s name.

She aims the gun as best she can through her tear-stained vision and pulls the trigger. Nothing happens except Ken tearing another piece of meat out of the girl’s shoulder. She remembers the firing range and grabs the slide on top. She yanks it down so hard her hand slips off and scrapes along the rear sight. Then she aims again and, with a roar, it speaks. The shot clips Ken’s ear, then ricochets off a rock. The sound is loud. Her husband howls in frustration as his head pitches forward from the blow.

He recovers and raises his head again, so Alice takes aim. The next shot throws her arms up into the air. She has the sights lined up, but fearing the recoil, she glances away just as she fires. The bullet punches into Ken’s shoulder and smacks him down once again. The girl screams as loud as she can and manages to push Ken off. Her shirt hangs in shredded, bloody red ribbons, and then Alice realizes that it’s her skin that is dangling in strips.

She gathers the girl up, one shoulder under her good arm, and presses them both to their feet. She hurries the girl as fast as she can to the side of the car. She pops the door open and helps her into the seat. The girl moans and presses her hand to her wound, but blood continues to leak in a steady stream. Splashes of it hit the car seat and door, but Alice doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the car anymore. All she wants to do is get the girl to a doctor so she can have her wounds tended.

Ken rises to his knees. Alice deposits the pistol in her jacket pocket, takes a couple of running steps and plants the flat of her sneaker in Ken’s back. “Asshole!” she yells and kicks him again just for good measure.

She rushes to her side of the car and jumps in the driver’s seat. The new car smell has been replaced by the reek of blood and dread. It’s palpable and hangs in the tiny space like a curtain. Alice drops the car into drive and puts the pedal all the way to the floor. The car responds by kicking in the gas engine. Gravel flies as she rips toward the street. She glances in the rear view mirror in time to see pieces of rock pelting her husband. He is on his feet once again, his mouth wide open in fury.

God, what in the hell just happened? Alice pounds on the dash. She wants to scream at the top of her lungs. Everything has been turned upside down; her life is gone, and she has no time for grief. She pushes the urge to scream aside with a will and instead pats the girl’s knee. She is all that matters now. She will become the center of Alice’s world. She never should have let the girl out of her sight; she should have had the gun drawn and ready for Ken’s attack. She should have seen it! Alice slams on the brakes and stops a few blocks from her house. She turns to her side and looks at the ashen face of the girl.

“I’m so sorry. I should have protected you better.”

“Nothing you could have done,” the girl cries, her voice weak and tiny.

“I’m taking you straight to a hospital. They will take care of you.”

Alice whips the towel off her own wound and turns it over to the clean side. She ties it over the girl’s ragged wound. The girl tries to turn her head and makes it halfway around. Alice wipes away the girl’s tears and then tries to move her so she can cradle her in her lap.

“I need my mom,” the girl gasps. Alice feels blood, warm and thick as it soaks into her pants.

“Can you hang in there for a little bit?”

“Yeah.”