Waiting to Die ~ A Zombie Novel (7 page)

“I … I was trying to get to my
dad,” he replies.

“Where is he?” Greg asks.

“At the hospital,” the child
replies.

Greg diverts his gaze knowingly
as he looks back at the child. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Billy,” he replies.

“Billy,” Greg repeats. “I’m
sorry, but…” His voice trails off as he watches the boy begin to cry.

“Do you want us to take you
home?” Scarlet asks.

“No,” Billy presses firmly
against the seat, his eyes bulging with fear.

“You can come with us,” Scarlet
says softly.

The child nods.

“Okay then,” she says and turns
her attention to Greg. “How the hell do we get out of here?”

Three miles east along 16
^th
street and traffic is beginning to thicken. Both lanes are packed heading
toward the freeway and Scarlet can see a commotion up ahead.

“We’re not going to get out this
way,” she says.

“Cross traffic and take a left
on the next street,” Greg says.

 “Won’t that take us back toward
the hospital?” she asks.

“No, there’s a service entrance
to the freeway that’s pretty well hidden.”

She turns into the empty street
along the freeway and guides the vehicle into a small fenced in area. “Through
here?” she asks.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Greg replies.
“Wait, hold up,” he says, squinting through the fence.

Through the chain link that
separates the freeway, the traffic is deadlocked. All four lanes are packed to
capacity as horns blare through in agitation. Up ahead, people are getting out
of their cars to see farther along the traffic jam. Screams rattle through as a
group of bodies veers through the deadlock. Like a swarm, corpses tread over
cars and pound against windows. Bodies pack the spaces along the dividing
lines, tightening the gap. The people who had gotten out of their cars begin to
flee, but are caught up in the flailing mass of death that pours from the streets
above.

“Back up!” Greg shouts.

Scarlet throws the car into
reverse and speeds backward, slamming against fence posts in her haste. The
chain link scrapes against the car, shedding its paint through deep gouges and
knocks off the driver’s side mirror. She swings the wheel around and the front
of the car skids until it is facing the opposite direction from which they
came.

In a panic, Scarlet slams the
automatic into drive and punches the gas pedal, sending up a flop of dislodged
meat from the undercarriage. As the car speeds away, the body from beneath the
vehicle rolls out. Mangled and burnt from the muffler, the faceless corpse
purses its lipless mouth at the car, letting its blue and bloody tongue lap at
the gristle and bone that has been exposed.

“Where do we go now?” Scarlet
asks.

Greg shakes his head, still in
shock. “I don’t know …”

“We’re going to have to figure
it out fast,” she says, her eyes fixed on the instrument panel. “The engine’s
overheating.”

“Shit,” Greg replies. “Cross
under the freeway at the next stop sign. Keep going straight until you come to
the business district. I used to do security in one of those buildings and I
know a way in.”

Scarlet steers the car west and
punches the gas as smoke begins to bellow from under the hood. The engine knocks
as she accelerates, tapping out in retaliation.

“It’s not going to hold,” she
says as the engine lopes and loses power.

“Turn in here,” Greg says,
guiding her into a parking lot. “Park the car in the back.” He turns to Billy.
“Get ready, we’re going to have to run. Just follow me and stay close.”

Before Scarlet can put the car
into a parking space at the back of the building, the engine whines and dies.
Everyone is out and following Greg before the car can come to a complete stop.
Scarlet leads Billy in front of her, guiding him by the shoulder, almost
pushing him along as she tries to keep up. She glances back at the car and sees
a bone sticking out of the grill attached to what’s left of a forearm and hand,
still contracting in convulsive spasms.

As the sun descends over the
horizon, Greg shuffles into an alcove at the side of the building in between a
cropping of hedges. “Through here,” he directs. “I hope they haven’t changed
the code.

On a small lockbox, Greg dials
the combination. With a quiet click, the box opens, revealing a key fastened to
the inside of the cover. He fidgets with it for a moment, removes the key, and
slides it into the door effortlessly.

A dim hallway exposes itself,
lit by fluorescent lights that flutter on when Greg flicks the light switch.

“There shouldn’t be anyone
here,” he says, leading the way. “The first security patrols aren’t for another
couple of hours. Maybe someone will show up, but I doubt it.”

“Is it safe here?” Scarlet asks.

“As safe as can be expected,” he
replies as he opens the door to the stairwell that leads to the first floor.

“The break room is through
here,” Greg says, leading them through a long hallway adorned with generic
prints of flowers and wildlife scenes. “We’ll just wait here for a while until
someone comes by.”

“Do you actually think that
someone will?” Scarlet asks with a hint of disbelief in her voice.

“I really don’t know.” He shakes
his head. “Eventually, they’re going to have to send in the military.”

“I saw soldiers.” Billy chimes
in.

“See?” Greg says optimistically.
“They’ll get this shit sorted out.”

“They killed everyone,” Billy
continues.

“
Who
did they kill?”
Scarlet asks.

“All of my neighbors and
friends,” the boy replies. “They shot them all.”

 “He must be mistaken,” Greg
says. “The military just doesn’t come in and wipe everyone out.”

“They do if they if there isn’t
any other course of action,” Scarlet says. “My brother was an infantryman in
the Iraq war. You would be amazed at the kind of stuff the military is capable
of.”

“But they’re not going to murder
Americans,” he says, unmoved.

“I’m telling you, Greg, there’s
a lot of stuff that wasn’t reported during those wars.” Scarlet takes a seat in
one of the chairs in front of the offices. “My brother told me some stories I
still can’t believe.”

“I’m going to see if there’s any
food in the vending machines,” Greg says, changing the subject. “I’m still
starving.”

Scarlet gives a quick nod and
turns to Billy. “Would you like something to eat?”

The boy manages to nod back.

“Get something for us too,” she
calls after Greg.

He opens the door to the break
room and pushes it in quietly. Running his hand along the inside of the wall,
he searches for the light switch, fumbling in the dark past the jam. His fingers
make contact with the switch and he smiles to himself as a shadow scurries
across the floor.

“What the…” he says before the
wind is knocked out of him and he’s thrown to the floor.

 A snapping mouth inches closer.
As he turns his head away and tries to push the creature back, thin lengths of
bloody saliva lap at his neck and slop against his uniform. On the floor, he
struggles, locking his arms and trying to turn the corpse over. He pulls his
legs up, letting the creature come closer, giving him enough room to tuck his
feet under the cadaver’s waist.

Greg pushes with all his might,
leveling his boots under the ghoul’s abdomen. He clenches his jaw and kicks
out, throttling the body off, but expelling rancid bile from the pressure of
his kick. A wave of rotten puke splashes against Greg as the body hurls
backward into the break room.

He’s on his feet as Scarlet runs
from the seating area to see what’s happening. With a fierce look of
determination, Greg launches on the corpse and knocks it to the floor. He grabs
a chair from beside the table as the body struggles to stand and swings it over
his head in an arch. The gleaming metal of the legs whooshes through the air as
Greg swings wildly, making contact with the creature’s head. The blow is enough
to knock the body back down, and Greg pulls the chair over his head for another
swing.

The corpse hisses as Greg slams
one of the legs of the chair into the ghoul’s head, fracturing its skull. With
another swing, he impales the cadaver to the floor as it blinks in convulsive
twitches.

“Son of a bitch,” Greg pants.

“Are you all right?” Scarlet
asks.

He holds up his hand as he
steadies himself. “I’m fine,” he breathes.

“Do you think there are more of
them?” Scarlet asks; an air of concern in her voice.

“No, that’s probably it,” he
says, wiping at his brow. “I’d like you to meet, Chuck.” He introduces the
corpse. “He was supposed to be on last night’s shift. I never did like the
bastard,” he says, kicking at the corpse.

Scarlet places her hand on his
shoulder as he bends at the knees, breathing heavy. “Let’s get you to one of
the couches,” she says.

“I’ll be fine,” he replies,
wobbling in place. “You know, maybe I do need to sit down for a minute.”

They return to the seating area
and Greg flops down on one of the couches. He leans back and closes his eyes.
“I always did think that guy was an asshole.” He smirks.

Scarlet smiles and lets out a
simple laugh.

“Is it dead?” Billy asks.

“Yeah, kid, it’s dead,” Greg
replies.

“I don’t like those people,” the
boy says, shaking his head.

“Neither do I,” Greg replies as
he stares down at his uniform. “I think I’m going to need to change.” He
unbuttons his shirt and pulls it off, careful of the slime that covers it.

Scarlet hears something, a soft
sound, loping in the distance. She follows her ears, wandering a little ways
along the hallway. When the sound becomes louder, she presses her ear to an
office door and listens carefully. A humming comes from somewhere inside and
she slowly turns the doorknob.

Inside the small office, she
stares out at the last rays of light from a descending sun through an open
window behind a desk. She moves closer and the sound becomes clear. She closes
her eyes as she approaches the window, afraid of what she’ll find.

The moaning becomes louder as
she peers down. Arms extending into the air, reaching up, hundreds of bodies
gather. Farther along the roadway, more are coming. Some of the crowd converges
on the office building while others settle around another.

In a window across the street,
Scarlet can see a man looking down at the dead much in the same way she had. He
glances up and makes eye contact with Scarlet. His face is accepting, his
expression acute. He lowers his head again and scans the surrounding. When he
looks back to Scarlet, he raises his brow as his chest deflates. He turns and
walks back into the darkening room, out of eyeshot. 

  Reserved to the situation, she
returns to the seating area. She casually sits down on the edge of one of the
chairs and looks at Greg. “No one is coming for us,” she says.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

She jerks her head toward the
office and Greg follows her gaze. Curious, Greg stands and moves to the other
room. After a few minutes of reflection, he returns.

“No, we’re not going to be
leaving any time soon,” he says and flops back onto the couch.

·6

The door
to her sister’s house is locked. Sarah pounds on the window and checks over her
shoulder at the bodies that creep closer in the street. As the tears flow, she
can hear someone inside dragging something out of the way before the sound of
unbolting the locks ensue.

A corpse
notices her from the street and swings its graying mass toward her. Its tongue
clicks across its teeth as its jaw opens wide. Slowly, it stumbles forward,
scraping out a death march with its hollow footfalls.

The front door whips open, “Oh
my God, Sarah!” the woman exclaims and pulls the child inside, slamming the
door behind her. “Are you alright?”

“April, they’re everywhere!”
Sarah sobs.

“It’s okay; it’s going to be
okay. Johnny’s in the attic, he can look at those scrapes on your arm,” she
says, pulling the child in to her chest. 

Sarah
shivers from her fever. Her frail body is tucked tightly beneath a comforter
with flower patterns sewn along the soft fabric. Beads of sweat glisten across
her hairless head and trickle down along her cheeks to her dry and cracked
lips.

“Johnny,
she’s burning up,” April says in desperation.

He rests
his head in his hands as he sits on the couch in the living room. He wears an
expression of hopelessness on his otherwise youthful face, “What can we do?” he
asks, looking up between sorrowful eyes.