Summer Of 68: A Zombie Novel (16 page)

Chapter Twenty

Sheriff Baker sat across from the two boys. The three of them sat on the floor in the conjoining office, shy of the holding cells. Between the three of them, they scrounged up a small meal comprised of sandwiches and other leftovers that sat forgotten in the break room.

None of them had eaten since that morning and neither of them could help themselves. They gulped it down with greedy bites and grumbling tummies. Though Baker didn’t eat as much, he didn’t have much of an appetite—just an underlying noxiousness. With his back to the door, he leaned forward, releasing pressure from his wounded shoulder. While it continued to burn, the singeing pain had been reduced to a dull roar. Any misplaced movement would trigger an immense bout of agony, and jostle both sides of his broken clavicle. He concealed it with his jacket as not to upset the boys.

Though the doorway leading to Jane and the cells were closed, she could still be heard, groaning to herself, and gently raking her shackles across the bars.

Baker sat quiet, as her groans seemed to flare whenever he opened his mouth. He had regretted coming back to the station, and knew it wouldn’t be good. He tried leaving, only to return with the intent of ending her suffering. It was then, he found the children. Now he wasn’t sure what to do. Therefore, Baker sat there, and dealt with the turmoil by receding deeper into himself.

***

The town wasn’t as bad as it became, hours before, when he first returned. People were still running, screaming, and crying, as an army of cadavers laid siege upon them. The dead had won the day, and in the weeks that were to follow—the world.

Returning to the station, he found Jane lying dead in dispatch. Her pretty face hung from the mouth of Officer Jackson. Jackson was preoccupied, distracted as Baker spewed vomit down the hallway. It didn’t notice until the Sheriff groaned, wiping bile from his lips.

Since the death of Deputy Cohen, Baker couldn’t bring himself to kill another friend. When the Officer was in reach, he grabbed its outstretched hand, kicked his legs out and slammed his face against the wall.

Jackson howled as Baker restrained him, holding him at an arm’s length.

“How could you?” Baker’s words mixed with tears. He dug his knees into the ghoul’s back, adjusted his grip before hoisting Jackson to his feet.

“She didn’t deserve that,” he lamented, pushing the corpse down the hall. “She was a good kid. You knew that.”

Outside, Jackson hit the sidewalk like a stone, the impact should have knocked the air from his lungs and left it dazed, the zombie took no time, recuperated and staggered upright.

Baker shook his head. “How could you?” he asked, to which the zombie replied with a groan.

His tongue halted as bile-tinted rage rose in his throat. He could taste his hatred. Without notice, Baker charged. He speared Jackson in the stomach, tackling him like a linebacker. Jackson’s corpse hit hard and before it could recover, Baker was on top. He screamed in fury, throwing punches, kicks, and felt bones break beneath him.

As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t kill it.

The zombie looked up, malevolence in its eyes. It bled a congealed stew from a deep laceration across its brow, and dark blood trickled from its ears—Jane’s own blood slathered across its chin. The corpse hissed in a catlike fashion, reaching for the Sheriff.

Baker delivered a final kick to Jackson’s chest and returned inside.

Jane greeted him in the hallway as he returned to dispatch. He stopped, frozen in mid stride. She watched him intently, her milky eyes locked in a sorrowful stare.

“Jane,” he whispered. The sound of his voice that triggered her reaction, she groaned a beckoning
cry and shuffled forward. Her arms outstretched before her like the bride of Frankenstein’s monster.

“I’m sorry,” he said, producing a pair of handcuffs. He felt her hands brush his cheek and stopped. Baker waited for the attack and if she did, he didn’t know if he could stop her. She watched him, wobbling where she stood.

He cocked his head, taking a step back. It was strange. In a few short hours, he had seen hundreds of them and never once had he seen one behave in such a benign fashion. “Jane,” he asked. The handcuffs jiggled in his grasp, or maybe it was his hands that were shaking. “Are you in there?”

As if to answer—she lunged. Her mouth opened revealing a row of perfect, bloodstained teeth. Baker fell back as her deadweight filled the space he once occupied. She caught her balance and turned to face him as he got to his feet.

“Stop…”

She groaned, undeterred by his demand. Reaching out, her jaws snapping shut with a clack. The sound brought him back and cleared his head like a strong drink. He slammed her against the wall just as he had with Jackson. Jane groaned, as he pushed against her, as though to force her through the plaster. Baker slapped the cuffs to her wrists, and with a paper bag over her head, transferred her to one of the cells until he could figure this whole thing out.

***

“What happened to Jane?” Jake asked. The soft concern of his voice pulled Baker from his thoughts.

“Huh?” He turned his focus back to the two children seated around him.

“What happened to Jane,” Jake repeated, talking in between chunks of his half-chewed sandwich.

“You knew her?” Baker was genuinely surprised.

Russell nodded, “She used to babysit us,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

The Sheriff breathed, the burn of his shoulder smoldered as he exhaled. “I’m sorry kids,” he said, “but she’s become –”

“She’s become a monster,” Jake answered.

Baker shuttered. “Yeah,” he said, caught off guard by the child’s bluntness. “She’s become a monster…”

They fell silent as the boys continued to eat. Baker looked to his food, but the spreading infection stifled the rest of his appetite.

“What happened to the two of you?” Baker asked, tossing the remaining sandwich between the two for them to fight over.

They smiled, shoving the additional food into their mouths.

“We were gonna go fishing,” Jake smiled, but his memories caused that smile to fade.

“We had to come back,” Russell added, and sat his remaining sandwich on the floor. The thought of fishing spoiled his appetite. “We saw one of them down at the fishing hole,” he said, tugging on the frayed sole of his shoe and pried a chunk of rubber free, before he spoke again. “He was in the water and came after us.”

The Sheriff took a pull from his cigarette and breathed out the smoke.

Russell fell silent and as the moment passed, he began to cry. Jake scooted across the way and took his brother in his arms, softly patting his back. Russell fell sideways, resting his head across Jake’s lap. His crying continued and gained momentum with every sniffle.

“We came back to find you,” Jake said, finishing his brother’s story, “and when we got
here…we found everything had changed.”

Baker sat silent, smoking his cigarette. He snuffed the butt on the ground and popped the pack out of his pocket. He was down to his last couple of smokes.

“To hell with moderation,” he whispered, lighting another one. The stale smoke tasted heavenly as it hit his lungs. With the direst of thoughts, he offered the pack to Jake.

“You want one?” he asked.

Jake frowned.

Baker laughed, there were worse things out there than smoking, but thought it would be best if he didn’t point that out. No. He didn’t consider them children, as they had grown up fast in a couple of hours. The way he thought of it was simple, every man deserved a cigarette before they died. 

“Good kid,” Baker said, sliding the pack into his pocket. “Ya’know, when I was your age, my old man offered me a smoke.” He paused, smiling at the memory. “He told me, ‘son, if you have one now and don’t like it, you won’t be as likely to start when you’re older.”

He laughed. “Boy did that backfire, huh?”

They relapsed into silence, and the only sounds came from the cell block.

Every so often, Russell whimpered and before long, fell asleep. Russell had had a good long cry, and deserved a moment of rest. Baker was worried about Jake, though. He was a headstrong youth, handling everything with a sense of authority. For being a mere child, he held the weight of the world on his shoulders. Baker hoped that Jake could hold out long enough to make it count for something, but could already see the harshness of reality crumbling his adolescent façade.

“Aren’t you tired?”

Jake shook his head. “A little,” he said, “but I’m good for now.”

Baker nodded, finishing the rest of his cigarette. His thoughts drifted to Deputy Cohen, lying beaten and dead in the dust outside of town. He closed his eyes and prayed for a quicker death than the one suffered by his friend. 

It only took a couple of minutes and soon, Jake drifted into sleep.

Chapter Twenty-One

“What about your mom and dad?” Baker asked as Jake woke from his short nap. Russell remained asleep beside him.

Jake shrugged, wiping the crusty remainder of sleep from his eyes. “I don’t know…”

Beside him, Russell stirred, muttering as he woke.

“Our father is in ‘Nam,” a hint of remorse played in his voice. He took a deep breath and leveled his gaze, meeting Baker’s own. “And our mom…we were hoping you’d be able to get us home to her.”

Baker nodded. His head throbbed. As the boys slept, he had developed a fever unlike anything he’d ever experienced. A sharp pain pulsated across his brow, bringing tears to the corner of his eyes and mingled with his sweat peppered flesh before dribbling down his chin. With a cough, Baker winced and felt the scabbed wound crack and bleed. Baker was in Hell and he knew it.

“Especially my brother,” Jake whispered, nodding at the semiconscious Russell.

Baker smiled, it felt weak, speaking volumes of sadness.

“Can you?” Jake asked. “Can you help us?”

As Sheriff, he wanted nothing more than to get the children to safety, yet there was no way he possessed the strength or time it would take to get them where they needed to go. He thought of selling the boys short sickened him. He was letting them down and that was something he had been doing a lot of lately.

Baker shrugged. “Maybe,” he mumbled.

Jake looked at the Sheriff with large, sad eyes. It was obvious that he hadn’t expected such an open ended response. Ultimately, Baker knew it was time to tell him the truth.

Before he could, Jake echoed: “Maybe…?”

Baker sighed, thinking of what he could say to make this child understand. “I can help you get there, but I don’t know if
I
can get you there…”

“Why?”

He frowned and was about to speak when the words fell short of his lips. He grumbled his frustration and lit another cigarette.

“Because I’ve been bitten,” he said. “Some time ago, one of those zombies bit me on the shoulder. This was before I found you.” Baker could see it in Jake’s eyes, he didn’t understand.

“What do you know about their bites?”

The boy shook his head. “Bites?” he echoed as though testing the weight of the word against his tongue. “I…I don’t.”

“Those monsters outside, they try to bite you and
when
they do, it’s because they really want to eat you. That’s why they attack us…and it’s not just us—people in general. We’re not like them. To them we’re food.”

Jake’s face paled.

“And if one of them bites and you can get away…it’s their bites. It’s something about them that can make you sicker than a dog and there’s something in their saliva that infects you—slowly, it turns you into a monster—just like them.”

Baker stopped, realizing he wasn’t sure he believed himself, let alone the horror’s he inflicted upon the child’s mind. He knew he was dying, but why hadn’t he turned yet? It took Cohen less than ten minutes to reanimate and here he was, hours into sickness and still nothing.

Jake stared at him with pallid cheeks and glossy eyes. He thought it over.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you?” Baker asked. His words were slow and measured.

Jake nodded, his breathing grew shallow. He contemplated every word.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Baker felt the pain of regret.

“You’re a monster?” Jake blurted.

Baker was aghast. The child’s words were blunt, swift and too the point. It left him dazed, uncertain how to answer. “I, uh…I don’t know. Not yet, but…soon, I think I will be.”

Unable to hold back, Jake began to cry. His sadness came quick, streaming down his cheeks and off his chin.

“What’s going on?” Russell asked, pushing up from the floor. He saw his older brother crying, and shot the Sheriff with a demanding stare. “What’s going on,” he repeated, “what did you do to him?”

“Nothing,” Baker shook his head. He was treading on eggshells, the sense of command in the youngest boys voice had left him intimidated. He could face the dead and kill some of his closest friends and still, couldn’t bear the thought of making a child cry. He really was a sucker, after all.

Before he could, Jake replied.

“He’s not going to help us! And he says he’s going to become a monster, like them!”

Fear encased Russell’s eyes as he scooted to his brother’s side, desperate to escape the Sheriff.

Baker sadly smiled.

“Boys,” he said. He reached for them, anything to calm their nerves. The action was too sudden and caused the boys to cower back, retreating from the Sheriff. “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to help. I don’t want you boys to get yourselves hurt is all. I don’t have much time and I sure as hell don’t know what use I can be.”

“You’re not like the others though.”

“I’m not?” Baker asked.

“Not yet,” Jake said. “But he will be. He told me so—said he was bit and their bites turn you into a ghoul!”

“Like a vampire?”

Outside of their sanctuary, Jane cried—aroused by their conversation and cries. She rattled the shackles and charged the bars, anxious to lend her opinion.

Both children continued, talking frantically to one another. Their words overlapped, drowning the other out. It was all too much for Baker, as he wanted to clarify but couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

“Both of you—ENOUGH!”

That did it. They looked at him more startled than scared.

“Will you give me a chance to explain,
please?
I ain’t dead, but I’m gonna be. Ain’t nothing I can do about it and I’ll help you boys, I will. I’ll get you to your mamas…” A heavy weight lifted from his chest. This was an opportunity to validate life before death.

Regardless of his unease, the boys perked up.

“You will?” Jake asked. “You’ll help us?” His tears were gone, replaced with youthful ambition. Russell looked no different. They looked to the Sheriff, anticipation sparkling in their eyes.

Baker swallowed, his shoulder throbbed as though to remind him how bad of an idea this was. After all, it was his job to lay it all on the line in times like these.

“Yes, I will.”

Jake and Russell leapt to their feet, rushing the short distance to embrace the Sheriff. Baker hissed as they pressed their weight against his shoulder, cracking the scabs. He wanted to cry but kept the pain to himself. Blood trickled down his chest. 

“Thank you!” they laughed. “Thank you, thank you!”

“Yeah,” he grunted, “you’re welcome.”