And This Too: A Modern Fable (6 page)

             
That’s when the first shots rang out. Harley looked around, confused. Then the loud crack of a shotgun recoiling filled her ears.

             
“What the-”

*****

Sandy’s Beach, Oregon

             
Allie had been watching from her third floor apartment. Some imbecile had decided to drive a roaring SUV all over Main Street, causing a gaggle of the Sandy's Beach walkers to come out to feed. Then the car stopped.

             
“Ah hell,” Allie maundered, peeking through the vertical slats of the Venetian blinds.

             
“What?” Kurt questioned, polishing the barrel of his six-shooter.

             
“This dumb-ass is out of gas and all the sickies are closing in on the car.”

             
Kurt got up and looked outside. “Open the window,” he demanded, picking up a pair of binoculars.

             
Allie complied. Kurt only had to look for a couple of seconds before realizing the importance of the blood smeared Cadillac.

             
Dropping the binoculars (which Allie caught a second before they would have hit the floor) Kurt pulled his second revolver from the holster and eagerly squeezed off two well placed shots, sending fever melted brains to the pavement. Kurt aimed again.

             
“What are you doing?” Allie gasped, panicked by the thought of their location being compromised.

             
“You’ll never guess who’s in that Caddy.”

             
She didn’t have to. Allie looked out the window with her shotgun and watched as more brains littered the ground.

*****

              Harley had no idea what was going on. Shots echoed throughout downtown Sandy’s Beach, but she didn't know where they were coming from. The frightened dame was too disoriented to join the fight.

             
Her eyes widened as some of the undead began to amble towards one of the buildings. The smell of decay was finally getting to her. That’s when Harley blacked out.

*****

              “That’s right babies. Come to mamma.”

             
The majority of the carnivorous crowd began roaming towards the wall of buildings, trying to figure out where the shots were coming from. Allie continued blowing holes through heads as Kurt re-loaded.

             
“We can’t kill them all,” Kurt whimpered. “We have to go get her.”

             
“We can stock up on ammo later,” Allie replied aggressively, reloading the shotgun.

             
“Why isn’t she shooting?”

             
“Who knows? All that matters is that she survives this.”

Five

Somewhere in Washington State

             
Mikey and his best friend, Andre, were playing
Radioactive City
when Mikey’s stomach let out an ominous growl. The two boys began to giggle.

             
“Dude,” Andre drawled, “I think it’s time to go on a munchie run.”

             
“For sure, man,” Mikey replied, pausing the game and standing up. “Who’s driving?”

             
Andre shrugged and tossed the keys at Mikey. “You.”

             
Mikey caught the keys, headed down the hall and out a door leading into the garage. Mikey’s death trap, which the two fondly called “The Tank” was a 1982 Chevy Van, spray painted black with a Jolly Rodger adorning the top. Mikey patted the roof twice before hopping in, it was a good luck tradition. Andre jumped in the passenger's seat and opened the glove box. An envelope labeled “Munch Fund” awaited him. He peeked inside and giggled.

             
“Thirty bucks.”

             
“Sweet.”

             
Mikey revved up the engine and pressed a button on the automatic garage opener. The two lit a joint as the garage door slowly traveled up.  Mikey carefully backed out onto the street and began to drive to the
Park ‘n’ Mart
just up the road as his friend lit up and passed him a spliff. The streets were completely empty, which wasn’t unusual for a Saturday, most of the time people took a day trip up to the state’s capital.

             
When they pulled into the
Park ‘n’ Mart
parking lot, the stoners saw nothing wrong with the scattered cars, some of them parked askew and all of them abandoned.

             
“Dude, I could really go for a Tastee Kake right now.”

             
“Yeah, a whole box of Tastee Kakes…each.”

             
Andre and Mikey giggled as they walked through the automated doors.

             
The whole
Park ‘n’ Mart
seemed to be empty. Andre didn’t really mind, it just meant more munchies for them, Mikey, however was growing queasy. He stopped walking and put his hand on Andre’s chest in order to stop him.

             
“Do you see something wrong with this picture?” Mikey asked, looking around the nearly empty store with unease.

             
There were a few convenience store goers shuffling brainlessly around the store, but that was it.

             
“What?”

             
“It’s deserted, man.”

             
“Mikey, don’t get so worked up, let’s get the Tastee Kakes and chips and pop and get outta here.”

             
“But there’s no one at the register.”

             
“We’ll leave the money on the counter,” Andre smiled dopily.

             
Mikey’s gut growled, his fear was holstered by his hunger. “Alright…but let’s hurry up.”

             
Andre ran to the aisle lined with rows and rows of boxes filled with cream stuffed pastry treat that had become a stoner favorite by making their mascot a cartoon Tastee Kake with a “hippy headband” on and ,if you looked closely, glassy eyes. Andre's mouth began to water. He grabbed three boxes, turned and snagged a bag of Non-Heinous brand Munch-iez, another pot-head classic. The boom of the medical marijuana industry had also created a plethora of stoner themed food products.

             
“Come on, dude,” Mikey whined, standing at the end of the aisle, anxiously glancing around.

             
“Hold on man, should we get one or two bags of these chips?”
              “I don’t
care
,” Mikey whined again.

             
“nUuuugh.”

             
“Dude, control your stomach,” snapped Andre.

             
“nUUUUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.”

             
“That’s not me, man.”

             
Four or five people came ambling up behind Andre.

             
“Holy Shit!” Mikey breathed, nearly relieving himself in his pants.

             
The group had tar-like gunk dripping from their mouths. A couple of them had bulbous, nearly glowing pimples all over their faces. Andre turned on his heel to go towards the counter, saw the growing crowd and dropped his snacks.

             
“What the hell?!”

             
A woman dressed in a torn skirt suit nearly fell to the floor before puking black gunk all over the turquoise and white, checkered tile. Andre and Mikey screamed as they ran out of the convenience store with seven zombies lumbering after them. The two flew around the back of the store and then, once they were convinced that they had lost their undead stalkers, headed back to the van and hopped in. Two more walkers came out of the
Park ‘n’ Mart
via the automated doors. Other zombies were now making their way to the roar of the engine.

             
As Mikey drove and Andre complained about his empty stomach, more of the infected emerged from the shadows and began following the van. Right at the city limits, the van shrugged to a stop. They were out of fuel. The two got out and began walking away from the carnage. But it seemed useless. The infected citizens of the small town were closing the gap.

             
Andre had to stop at a tree, dizzy with hunger and lethargic from reefer.

             
“Go on without me, man,” he huffed as sweat dripped down his pale face.

             
Mikey shook his head and offered his shoulder for Andre to lean on as they continued to flee.

             
“nUUUggh!”

             
Mikey kept walking, not looking back.

             
“nuuuUUUgh!”

             
“Dude, it’s no use,” Andre whimpered. “We’re gonna die.”             
              Mikey didn’t say anything. He knew it was true; all of the infected people in the town of Amut were following them in a large herd. Ashlenville was miles away. There was no hope. No hope to be had…at all.

*****

Harley woke up when the shooting stopped. Her head was spinning. She hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast that morning and the stench of decay was overwhelming. If it weren’t for the fact that she was utterly surrounded, Harley would have thrown up on the street. However, she knew that getting out of the car would mean her life, so she sat quietly, watching the zombies pass by. It was getting dark; she would have to go to sleep soon, and still hadn’t found Allie.

              “Hell,” Harley vocalized.

             
She wasn’t hungry, but she knew she needed something in her stomach, to maintain her stamina. Harley was stuck between a rock and a hard place; the simple task of turning on a light or even moving too much would draw the attention of the undead.

             
Harley eased the seat back as far as it would go. Inching towards the back seat of the car, the famished young woman stopped whenever she worried that a walker was getting too close. Pixel had made a bed of the passenger’s side floor. His gentle, rhythmic breathing nearly brought peace to her fraying nerves and stuttering heart. When she was safely in the back seat, Harley closed her eyes and began to breathe again.

             
The simple task of grabbing a snack had become just as dangerous as driving from Ivana’s Port to Sandy’s Beach. Harley peeked over the top of the bench seat and overlooked her store of goods. She cautiously grabbed a bottle of water and a bag of trail mix from the hatchback before lying back down in the seat and engorging herself on the modest meal.

*****

              In the dimly lit third floor apartment, Allie and Kurt were eating a dinner of hotdogs with soda and chips on the side. The hotdogs were some of the last perishable foods they would eat in a long time. There was no electricity in Sandy’s Beach. After dinner it was time to train. Both Allie and Kurt were incredibly sore from doing exercise circuits for both combat and regular fitness. That evening they decided to just do the regular circuit.

             
Once all was said and done, they decided to check on the scene below.

             
“They’re all out there now,” Allie whispered, looking down at the growing population of undead.

             
“What about Harley?” Kurt inquired softly

             
“Harley’s a big girl; she can take care of herself.”

             
“Do you think they’ll dissipate in the morning?”

             
“They always do.  They always lose interest and try to find someone else to snack on.”

             
“I still think we should make a plan,” Kurt whispered frantically, “Harley would be great company. There is strength in numbers.”

             
“She was too dumb to check her fuel gauge before driving all over the place.”

             
“Not stupid, just nervous.”

             
“Why are you defending her? You two haven't spoken since high school.”

             
Kurt blushed and looked away. “I still think we should make a plan.”

*****

The definition of a stalemate is: a situation with no potential winners. And Harley had found herself in the epitome of a stalemate. If she didn’t move, her enemy would never know she was there, and even if they did, they wouldn’t be able to get her right away. Yet, she couldn’t fight them because rolling down a window or opening the door would both draw them to her and leave her more vulnerable.

             
Upon this epiphany, Harley figured out why the shooting had stopped. Whoever had taken pity on her lost soul had also risked compromising their hide out. Harley had seen it many times before, in movies, where the gun slinging and throat slashing came to a standstill because it was dark.              

             
Harley sighed, petting Pixel, who had crawled onto her chest after she curled up in the back seat, and whispered, “I just want to survive this, Pix.”

             
The cat mewled softly in reply, as if he knew that the slightest sound would alert the eerie figures flailing around outside.

             
“Once we find Allie, we’ll take her and get mom and dad. And…and maybe that Christian kid, if he’s still alive.” She continued. “There’s probably safety in numbers.” Pickles began to purr. “And then…and then maybe we can go to the bus. Lots of birds and mice for you to hunt there. Start a camp, not have to deal with these zombies.”

             
Pixel mewed in agreement.

             
“Yeah…no more mutherfuckin’ walkers,” Harley voiced, before closing her eyes and letting a light sleep overcome her desire to survive.

*****

              Light filtered through the window as Allie awoke with a plan in her head. She looked through the blinds and found that most of the walkers had become too hungry to care, and meandered off to stalk more idiotic prey. This was what they had been training for before and during the Infection. Allie poked Kurt in the rib, who was dozing on the couch.

             
Kurt jolted awake and yelped, “What the hell!?!” before flinging his blanket to the floor.

             
Allie held her finger to her lips, “Shh.”

             
“Don’t ‘shh’ me.” Kurt whispered angrily, “you woke me up, now tell me why.”

             
“I have a plan,” she quietly reassured him.

             
“Oh really?”

             
“You were right; I want my Harles safe, where I know she’s safe. There’s only about ten of them out there, you wanna know what’s going down?”

             
Kurt began to rub the sleep out of his eyes and mumbled. “I suppose.”

             
“Alright,” Allie said, putting her hands on her hips, “Do you think we can get down to the second floor?”

             
“The building is locked, for now,” Kurt replied, scratching the back of his head. “So getting to the second floor should be easy. What do you have in mind Aunt Allie?”

*****

              With a mighty roar, Allie jumped out of the second floor window, landing with her knees bent. Harley sat up and looked out the window. It was morning. As she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, the door to the apartment building burst open and Kurt ran out, wielding a shotgun.