Grace Lost (17 page)

Boggs pulled the attic ladder down
and scrambled up with four of the homemade spears.  Without speaking, we
all went to different bedrooms as planned and got into position.  I
watched the front of the property.  The slow female zombie was standing
beside the shed, swaying jerkily.  Her mouth opened from time to time and
I could hear her moans and whimpers within my head.  I could somehow sense
that she was hungry, more so than she had ever been while alive.  It was
saddening and sickening at the same time.  I was aware that Gus was
approaching her before he was in my own line of sight, somehow seeing through
her eyes.

“He’s outside,” I said loud enough
for Boggs and Emilie to hear.  “He’s approaching her.”  I could sense
the excitement of the other two zombies that were behind the house.  “The
other two know he’s there.  They’ll be coming out of the woods soon.”

Gus approached the sluggish
zombie, who was now also walking toward him with a shuffling but purposeful
gait.  She was close enough now that I could see braces that she wore on
her legs.  Her flesh was in an advanced state of decay with areas of
exposed bone where the braces had rubbed.  Gus held the spear in one hand,
and had used his free arm to cover his nose and mouth.  The zombie raised her
skeletal arms in anticipation of grabbing onto a meal.  Gus raised his
free arm and brought the spear down hard, lodging it into the creature’s
head.  It crumpled to the ground in a heap.  Gus used his booted foot
to put pressure against the creature’s neck and jaw while he pulled the spear
from its head. 

“They’re coming,” I said
simply.  “They want Gus.”

I heard Boggs mumble from the
other room, but was unable to make out what he said.   The desire
swimming in my own mind, yet not belonging to me, was maddening.  It made
concentrating difficult.

I heard the Kahr fire, and Emilie
said excitedly, “
got
it!”

The shotgun rang out next,
followed by Boggs yelling.  “Fucking A, I missed!  Oh God no! 
It’s headed around front!”

I already knew the last remaining
creature was running toward our friend out front.  I had known seconds
before Boggs had announced it.  I watched helplessly from my perch in the
upper window as a streak ran across the yard toward the cowboy.  I put my
palms on the cool glass of the window, unsuccessfully willing time to
slow.   When the zombie collided with him, Gus landed hard on his
back on the ground.  The spear was knocked from his grip.  The speed
with which the creature had run was astonishing.  Gus fought for ground by
holding the monster away from him for as long as he could.  The zombie’s
snapping jaws threatened to consume him. 

I hadn’t heard Boggs run up behind
me.  My mind was filled with the absolute desire emanating from the
creature.  The next shotgun blast was deafening.  The glass from the
window shattered, and splinters landed across my.  Once I was able to open
my eyes, I looked out the now broken window and saw the creature draped over
Gus’ body.  The cowboy hefted it off of himself and quickly rolled
away.  I heard Emilie run down the stairs, followed by Boggs.  My
mind was clearer now, but held a remnant of foreign thought.  I sensed
pain, and above that pain the constant hunger and desire for flesh.  I
realized that not all of the creatures were gone.  One was laying in
misery both from a wound, as well as an unrelenting desire to consume. 
Sensing the excitement of the creature as Boggs and Emilie ran into the yard to
help Gus, I forced myself onto my feet and ran down the stairs to warn them.

By the time I climbed through the
window above the kitchen and rounded the corner of the cabin, I saw Gus on his
hands and knees vomiting violently.  The smell from the zombies was
nauseating, to say the least.  Emilie was at Gus’ side, trying to console
him. 

“Get back!” I yelled. 
“Boggs!
  It’s not dead!”

Gus and Emilie both looked up at
me, eyes wide.  Gus had vomit dripping from his chin and splattered on his
shirt.  He realized what I meant before Emilie did, and used his arms to
shove her away from him.  Boggs was closest to them, and had already aimed
the shotgun at the fallen zombie.

“Get down!” yelled Boggs shrilly.

As Gus dropped to the ground, I
could see the fallen zombie had already perching for another attack. 
Boggs’ shot from our bedroom window hadn’t been lethal.  Another blast
from the shotgun sounded and the head of the zombie was fatally thrown
backward, separated from the rest of its decomposed body.

Silence followed, aside from the
ringing in my ears.  My head was finally free of foreign thoughts and
desires. 

Boggs kept his shotgun raised, and
then spoke.  “Emilie, you need to stand up and walk toward Zoe.”

The redhead looked down at Gus,
who was kneeling.  “Do it, Em,” said Gus. 

“No,” said Emilie. 

Gus nodded his head at her. 
“You have to, Em.  We all know the routine.”

Emilie looked at me.  I held
an arm out toward her, encouraging her to come to me, which she did hesitantly.

Gus stood, appearing slightly out
of breath from the struggle he had just been through with the corpse.  He
held his arms out to his sides.  “Zoe, can you take Emilie inside please?”
asked Gus.

I took Emilie’s hand in mine and
stepped toward the side of the cabin.  I could feel her shaking. 
“No, Gus, we’re all in this together,” I said.  Her eyes were locked on
Gus.

“Fair enough,” he answered. 
“Boggs, I’m pretty sure I didn’t get bit.  I’m taking my shirt off.” 
He had thankfully traded his too-small women’s t-shirt for a button-up flannel
that morning.  He unbuttoned it, and slid it down his arms. 
Crumpling it up, he used it to wipe his chin and mouth.  He pulled his
sleeveless undershirt off next.  His breathing had slowed and he did a
slow three hundred and sixty degree turn.  It was difficult to ignore his
six-pack abs while watching for any signs of bites.  “See anything?” he
asked.

“So far so good,” answered Boggs,
who had lowered the shotgun slightly.

Gus undid his belt and opened the
fly of his jeans, then slid them down.  I looked down at my feet,
embarrassed. 

“All clear,” announced Boggs.

After a couple of minutes, Emilie
whispered to me.  “You can look now.”

Gus walked over to us, and wrapped
his arms around Emilie.  “It’s ok,” he whispered to soothe her. 
“It’s going to be ok.”  He looked over at me, unsmiling but not
unkind.  I knew he had many questions.  I knew I had no answers.

We had all climbed back into the
cabin through the kitchen window entry.  My head and hip both ached. 
I had a numb feeling inside.  Boggs had suggested I sit down in the living
room with him.  Emilie and Gus offered to bring in some sodas.  I was
exhausted, so laid down on one of the two loveseats and curled into a fetal
position.  I closed my eyes.  I felt the afghan drape over me. 

“Thanks, Boggs,” I whispered.

“Zoe, we’re gonna have to talk
about what happened.”

“I know.”  I kept my voice
low.

Before I knew what he was doing,
Boggs lifted me into his arms and held me, then sat down, still cradling
me.  He kissed me on the forehead.  “It’ll be ok, Zo,” he said with
tenderness in his voice. 

I wrapped my arms around him and
lay my head on his chest, and then kicked off my shoes.  The sound of his
heart beating was soothing.  “I love how you smell, Boggs,” I
whispered.  I closed my eyes again as he stroked my hair.

Before long Emilie and Gus both
walked into the room.  Gus cleared his throat.  I opened my eyes, but
kept close to Boggs.  If I could have melted into him I would have.

Emilie set two cans of soda on the
table and sat down on the other small couch.  Gus stood in front of us
with his hands on his hips.  He was wearing his jeans and boots, minus his
shirt from earlier.   He no longer looked upset, but instead looked
very concerned.

“Ok, Zoe, what was that?” he
asked.  “We need to understand what happened with you.”

I sat upright a bit, and clung to
Boggs’ hand.   “I don’t know,” I said while biting my lip.

Gus sat next to Emilie and took a
deep breath.

“Has anything like that ever
happened to you before?” he asked.

“No.
Never.
 
I swear.”  I fought tears again.  “And I hope it never happens
again.”

“Can you explain what happened,
Zo?” asked Boggs.  He squeezed my hand.

I sniffled.  “I heard her
screaming in my head.  I didn’t understand how the rest of you couldn’t
hear her.”  I looked at Boggs for any trace of understanding on his face
before continuing.  “Before long there were fragments of thoughts in my
head.  Not words, just impressions of some sort.  I wish I could
explain it.”  I looked down at my lap.

“Zoe?  Was anything else
going on at the same time?” asked Gus.  Emilie sat listening, unusually
quiet. 

“My hip started hurting, and my
head got achy.  I felt sick to my stomach.  I could
feel
how
badly they craved our flesh.  I could
feel
their hunger.”

I looked over at Gus.  He was
clearly deep in thought.

“Zoe, how did you hurt your
hip?  Boggs has already told me, but I want more details,” said the man
sitting beside Emilie.

I looked at Boggs.  “It was
the morning we first ran.  I fell out the window when we were trying to
get away from Mr. Anderson.  I didn’t know it was cut at first, not till
we got to Boggs’ house.”

“And you cleaned it, right Boggs?”
asked Gus. 
“With rubbing alcohol?”

“Ya, from a
first aid kit.
  One of those
little wipes.”

“Do you know what you fell on,
exactly?” pressed Gus.

“No,” I said.  “All I was
focused on was running.”

“Boggs?
  Do you recall what was on the ground where she
fell?”

“Nothing
unusual, just dirt and weeds.”

“Ok,” continued Gus.  “Zoe I
don’t mean to get personal but can you take your pants off?   I think
I should look more closely at your hip, darlin’.  I also need to get those
glass slivers out of your cheek.”

I nodded, then stood and slipped
my sweatpants off.  At this point I was too exhausted to care if I stood in
front of everyone in my panties.  “I used that red soap today,” I
said.  “It’s not as swollen, huh?”

Gus knee-walked over to look at
it, and made a noise of agreement similar to a grunt.  “It actually looks
like the wound’s scabbed over and almost healed, but these faint green lines
are unusual.”  He looked up at me.  “I don’t want to bullshit
anyone,” he said calmly.  “It’s not normal.  I have a theory and it’s
damned scary.”

I felt Boggs’ hands on my waist,
pulling me back onto his lap.  “Go ahead Gus.”

Gus sighed and stood up, and then
sat on the coffee table in front of me.  He pulled tweezers out of his
pocket and picked at my cheek gently.

 “Gus?  What’s going
on?” asked Emilie.  “You’re scaring me.”

He leaned forward, laced his hands
together, and thought for a moment before speaking.  “Whatever has caused
this whole mess,” he paused. 
“A virus, a chemical
agent, a bacterium.
  Fuck if I know what’s done it, but my hunch is
your wound was contaminated, Zoe.”  As his words set in, I could feel hot
tears streaming down my face.  “Try not to get upset, Zoe,” said the man
sitting across from me.  “You’re obviously alive and not one of
them
.”

Boggs was holding me with both
arms.  No one else was speaking.  “But what if I turn into one?” I asked,
choking on my own words.

“Well,” said Gus.  “If
something happens and you turn into one, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to
it.”

I looked at Boggs suddenly, fear
traveling up my spine.  “Oh, God,” I mumbled.  I looked back to
Gus.  “Could I have given it to Boggs?”

Gus looked at me very
seriously.  “I’m not sure, Zoe.  I’m just not sure how it all
works.  I’m not even sure if I’m right.”

I looked at Boggs, who was staring
at me.  “Don’t worry about me, Zo.”  He kissed my forehead again and
held me close.  “Let’s just worry about you right now.”

Emilie spoke next.
“C’mon, Zoe.
  Try to cheer up.  We’re all in this
together, remember?”

I nodded and wiped tears away from
my face.  “I remember.  I just don’t want to hurt anyone.”

 “Boggs, I’d like to get the
windows boarded up, the sooner the better. You ready?” Gus asked.  “Emilie
can stay inside with Zoe.”

Boggs stood up, squeezed my
shoulder, and nodded.  “Let’s do it, man.”  He tugged on my braid
then leaned down and kissed my cheek, whispering delicately into my ear. 
“
You going
to be ok?”

I nodded.  I had no reason to
believe I’d be alright, and no one else knew just how horrifying my experience
had been.  “I hope so.”