Summer Of 68: A Zombie Novel (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Salvation lay just a few yards away. The boys followed the bend in the road, rounding the street until they recognized their surroundings. Their hearts raced, excitement coursed steadily through their veins—it pushed them forward and offered a reprieve from the crushing despair. Up ahead, hid their home. It was cloaked and hidden in darkness, but there nonetheless.

Jake pushed the discomfort aside and pumped his legs, willing himself to move faster. Russell did the same. Invisible hands pushed them forward, egged on by the roar of the dead, following behind from the neighboring block. They ran with dependency, for the comfort of their mother and the safety of their lives.

The house loomed before them, emerging from the darkness, the closer they drew. With only a couple of houses between them and home, the neighborhood sat in semi-darkness, save for the smoldering houses, a few blocks behind, and the gentle moans, falling around them with the subtly of rain.

Ten more feet… their legs burned, but they took it in stride. It did not matter, they could rest soon. Five feet… Their mother’s car sat in the driveway. Their pain and discomfort was tolerable, they just had to make it.

Jake cleared the gutter, leaping from the street and onto the driveway and hit the ground running. He tripped on an unknown obstacle and had little time to protect himself from the fall. He rolled to his shoulder, crying out as his vision clouded with pain. On his back, he grabbed his arm, gasping for breath as tears filled his eyes.

Russell skidded to a halt. “What happened?”

A trickle of blood seeped from his bare arm. He whimpered, “I don’t know…”

Russell looked around and found the culprit; it was a discarded can of green beans and near it, a ripped paper bag containing similar goods.

“There,” he said, pointing.

Jake sat upright, looking with concern to the bag and rose slowly to his feet.

From all around the neighborhood, once idle zombies moved towards the Martin residence with determination, it was their cries that brought them back to reality.

“Come on,” Jake said limping towards the house. He had equated the bag of goods with their mother, and the end result was less than palatable. “Let’s find mom.”

Jake tried the front door, but found it locked. Again and again, he jingled the knob only to be met by the same results. “No…it can’t be…” he turned to Russell, a hopeless gleam shined in his eyes, reflecting like tiny flames in the night.

“What is it?”

“It’s locked…”

On the street, dozens of shadows loomed closer.

“Mommy,” Jake yelled. “Mom, open the door!” his cries turned to screams.

Fear had completely overtaken his tiny body, causing him to tremble. He began to pound his fists against the door, as the resulting sounds were under shadowed by the ever-increasing moans.

Russell looked away as something caught his eye—a piece of paper, folded over and stuck under the tip of his shoe. “Wait,” he said and grabbed what turned out to be a letter. The front of it read:
Boys.

“Let me see that,” Jake said and snatched it from Russell and read it aloud: “I went to the store. If you come back before I get home, the backdoor is unlocked. I love you, mom.” He choked on sadness as he read her words. He shoved it into his pocket and looked to Russell.

“The backdoor?” he said, amazed that he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

“C’mon,” Russell said, cutting across the lawn and around the house.

The dead loomed near, the closest of which eyed the two with curious intent. Jake and Russell bolted through the trees as they crossed the yard. A glimmer of light flickered from above. Jake looked up and saw that it emanated from a window, a candle—burning from their mother’s bedroom.

Revitalized and delighted, they burst across the patio as the first of their undead pursuers entered the yard.

Jake hit the door and threw it back. A rush of relief burst through his veins. He wanted to laugh, because finally they were home!

“Mom,” Russell yelled. The bottom of the door squealed, grinding against the floor. He shoved Jake aside and entered the darkened room. “Mom, where are you?”

Their voices sounded like a crack of thunder in the empty kitchen. Wasting no time, they burst through the doorway. A horrid aroma brought them to a halt. It was far from the smell of death and rot, those were things that they had grown accustomed to on the street. No. This was an acidic stench, like stomach acid and bile.

“What’s that smell?” Russell asked, disgusted.

Jake shook his head, he had a vague idea but in near darkness he couldn’t be sure. “Wait here,” he said and hurried through the kitchen, in a cabinet beneath the sink, he found a flashlight. The batteries were old and the beam was pallid, possessing a yellowish glow but would suffice under the circumstances.

“I got this,” he said, returning to Russell. He made a point to keep the beam low and towards the ground, cautious to alert the dead. It was a moot point as their cries surround every wall, encroaching steady across the yard.

“Look,” Russell said, “what’s that?”

With the beam of light, they found a pooled heap of vomit spattered across the carpet, it was soggy and ripe. The boys wrinkled their noses in disgust.

“Ewww,” Russell said.

Jake trained the light elsewhere, looking for any sort of sign to give credence to the absence of their mother. All they had was this to work from, and that itself was a less than appetizing clue. And with the exception of the dead, the house itself was unsettling at best. 

“Look over there,” Russell said, spying something more in the corner.

Jake squinted, refocusing the beam. His squinted and what he
thought
he saw, caused his lungs to constrict, the air choking in his throat.

Oblivious, Russell asked: “What is it?”

“Wait, don’t follow…” Jake stepped forward, his shoes squished through the vomit as he approached the blackish puddle. Upon closer examination, his worst fears were reaffirmed. It was blood.

Russell obeyed his brother’s wishes and remained where he was. “What is it?”

Jake shook his head. “I think its blood.”

Russell gasped and remained silent. It was through this silence; Jake heard his little brother’s heart break. From the largest puddle, a series of droplets snaked through the room. He stood still, following their path with the flashlight.

From the kitchen, the sudden pounding of fists pummeled the backdoor, startling the boys and tearing them from thoughts of their mother. The door rattled as though tussled by the onslaught of their groans.

He took a deep breath, pushing the fear from his lungs and followed the droplets across the floor and up the—

“Upstairs!”

“Wait,” Russell grabbed Jake before he followed.

From the kitchen, the small window over the sink shattered, peppering shards into dish filled the sink. If the dead weren’t able to gain entrance, they would make their own. It was only a matter of time before the house was compromised.

“What—mom’s up there and she’s hurt,” Jake seethed, frustrated.

Russell pointed, gesturing back to the kitchen. “We need to be—”

The sound of splintering wood screeched through the kitchen as the backdoor caved, doubling over upon itself, and the first wave of corpses falling through the gap.

The boys flinched, jumping back. Before either of them could react, another explosion rippled through the room. The windows facing the street erupted out in a torrent of glass; more corpses tumbled through, entangled in the curtains.

Jake latched onto his brother’s arm, squeezing like a vise. As the first corpse rose, it shed itself from the curtains and swayed silently at its full height. The sight of it was like a punch to the throat.

“No…not you, too…” Jake whimpered.

Sid moaned. His face reflected with bits of glass embedded in his flesh. His right cheek and throat were torn clean, jagged teeth marks remained present in his elderly folds—the inner workings of his throat glistened, offset by the torch light.

His appearance brought their nightmare closer to home.

Sid stood still, the couch between the boys and himself, kept him at bay. White soulless eyes drifted from one to the next. Bewilderment played across his waxy face, as though uncertain.

“Sid?” Jake realized there was an ornate, almost civilized calm that radiated from the ghoulish humanoid, almost as though he remembered them, still.

Maybe he’s not like the rest,
Jake thought. Sid had always been a kind and gentle man, perhaps such traits transcended death, ingraining upon whatever remained of his former self. As if in response, Sid hissed with a rabid, beastlike cry, and lunged. Had it not been for the couch, acting as a buffer, he would’ve attacked. Instead, he lost his balance and tumbled over the couch, landing on the cushions and rolled to the floor.

Russell jerked his arm. For a moment, Jake had forgotten where he was. He snapped to attention and looked around. While the dead hadn’t been as lucky in making their way through the front windows, those that had come through the backdoor were already crossing the threshold and emerged into the kitchen. Their arrival was marked by a putrid stank. 

Worst yet, it limited their escape and left them with only one option.

“Upstairs,” Jake said, shouting over the increase of noise and dragged Russell along.

It became clear just how bad the whole situation had become, their chance of survival thinned drastically as the seconds progressed. Mere feet away, Sid had somehow managed to regain his balance and moved towards them with unwavering determination. Behind him and the couch, additional corpses found entrance through Sid’s self-made door.

Jake’s hands shook, he nearly dropped the flashlight. Feeling it slip from his grasp, he shouted. “Move—NOW!”

He broke into flight, dragging Russell like a rag doll. They cleared the stairs in a matter of seconds, the pallid beam of light leading the way. They hit the top of the landing and spun around, hoping that the dead had stayed where they were. No. Not this time.

Sid had taken the lead, staggering up and onto the first step. His footing was loose and graced the edge of the stairs with an uncertain sluggishness. The old man fought for balance and once he found it, the initial rush of bodies blew in from behind, knocking him on his face. One after another, the zombies piled into the narrow stairway, their feeble brains unable to grasp the concept and swallowed the old man beneath a withering mass of arms, legs and torsos.

“We need to find something to block them with,” Jake realized. Some of the corpses that were swept under began to right themselves. Their numbers tripled steadily but the overall mass stunted itself halfway up as too many fought for clearance at once. In the resulting chaos, Sid managed to pull from the wreckage, reclaiming his rightful spot in the lead.

Jake glanced around and knew what they could use.

“Give me a hand, will you?”

He made his way to their grandmother’s dresser, which sat between the bathroom and their parent’s bedroom. The dresser was gifted to the family following her passing. With no suitable
place to put it, it was stuck in the hallway and left to hold an assortment of knickknacks and clutter until a proper place could be found.

Jake threw the torchlight down, casting the hall in relative darkness and slammed his weight against the dresser. Again and again, but the polished oak wouldn’t budge. His legs slipped beneath him, catching himself on the floor. He looked up to see Russell cemented at the top of the landing. His eyes frozen in terror as the dead inched uncomfortably close.

“Russell—help!”

It took a moment before he came around, moving to the aid of his brother.

They worked together, throwing their weight against the dresser; it creaked and groaned, sliding a couple of inches across the floor, leaving a long and powdery gouge in its surface. The exertion of force left them spent, they caught their breath and regrouped.

From the stairwell, the crying, pitiful moans funneled towards them. They narrowed their focus to the task at hand. Collectively, the boys could not have weighed more than a hundred and forty pounds, barely enough to move the dresser. 

“Ready—set—GO!” Jake’s shouts gave way to a frantic charge.

They collided against it, grunting. It slid a couple more inches.
Again, not by much. Time was of the essence and they fought to hold the momentum they had.

“We can do this,” Jake said, coughing his words.

Russell nodded as beads of sweat peppered his brow. He threw himself against the wooden case, pummeling its surface until his shoulder burnt.

Jake’s grunts transitioned from that of a struggle to a full blown battle cry. The dresser moved, sliding three inches, then five, and a couple more after that. Feeling it move was enough to assure the boys that it was working. Pushed through exhaustion, they mustered their strength and gave it all they had.

It was a slow fight and by the time they pushed the dresser into place, the first corpses had reached the top of the landing. Jake and Russell had them beat them there by a matter of seconds.