Zombies! A Love Story (3 page)

We both looked at the door that led from our kitchen to the attached garage where Mom’s behemoth was parked. I preferred my own car, but my tiny hybrid was outside, parked at the curb. Her 1985 Ford station wagon with wood grain panels and all of 23,000 miles on it, was in the garage. It was a relic and a gas hog.

“What if they got into the garage?” I whispered.

And then my bedroom door crashed open, and we were out of time. “Then I start shooting,” she said. She opened the garage door, and we ducked through and pulled it closed quickly behind us.

Then we stood there in the dark, with the shape of the car in front of us, shivering and listening, not moving, not making a sound.

“Should I turn on the light?” Mom whispered.

“I don’t think so.” I thought I heard something moving near the front of the little garage. Just outside the door? Or just inside? “Is the car unlocked, Mom?”

“Yes.”

There were five feet of empty space between us and the car. Its driver’s side faced us, its nose pointed toward the overhead door. Mom always backed in. There were two car doors on our side, front and back. “You take the back seat, I’ll take the front,” I said, soft as I could.

“I’m driving. You take the back. Ready?”

I nodded, wondering what this confident, gun-toting fifty-five year old had done with my real mother.

“I love you and I’m proud of you, Suz.”

“Love you back, Mom. On three, okay?”

“Three,” she said. We lunged, took two leaping strides in perfect synch, yanked our respective doors open simultaneously, dove into the car and slammed the doors closed. The things, whatever they were, plastered themselves against the car almost instantly. God, they must’ve been closer than I’d known. I heard the locks snap closed as Mom hit the button. Then she started the engine and flipped on the headlights. And we saw them. The garage was teeming with them. Groaning, they clawed at the car, the whites of their eyes hiding behind bloody spiderwebs. They reacted not at all to the headlights blazing into their faces. Didn’t squint or shield their eyes like you’d expect.

Mom screamed, and pointed her gun at the thing that was pawing at her window.

“Don’t shoot don’t shoot!” I cried. “Just drive.” I reached over her shoulder, and slammed the column shift into gear.

Mom dropped the gun onto the seat beside her, gripped the wheel and hit the gas. Her trusty old woody smashed straight through the bodies of the things, and then through the garage door behind them. She floored it and cranked the wheel to the right, and we fishtailed, then rocketed down our quiet, country road.

In a few hundred yards, they were behind us, the road was clear. I climbed up into the front seat and picked up my mother’s gun, studying it. I’d never held a gun in my life. I didn’t believe in them.

“Where are we going?” I asked her.

“Into the village,” she said. “The police department. It’s the safest place I can think of.” She looked at me briefly. “Unless you have a better idea?”

“Maybe not better, but definitely more essential. I want to go after Chuck. But...but it might not be safe.”

“Why not?”

“Cause most of those...things were at the party. Before whatever happened to them happened to them. And that’s where I last saw him and Sally.”

She nodded just once. “Then that’s where we have to go.”

“Mom, I can’t take you there. It might be dangerous.”

“So then we leave them to the mercy of...whatever this is? No. No, we have to go after them.”

I stared at my mom for about four seconds. It seemed longer. “You’ve changed since I’ve been away.”

She ran a hand over her hair. “Covered the gray. Red was my natural color you know. This is a little brighter, but–”

“You’re stronger than I ever knew, Mom.”

She smiled. “Given the choice between evolution and extinction, I chose to evolve. Thanks for noticing. Now give me back my gun.” She flipped open the glove compartment, reached inside, and pulled out another one, smaller, but just as shiny. “You can use this one. It’s got a full clip. Just turn off the safety, point, and shoot.”

I frowned at her. “Why the weaponry, Mom? Why are you suddenly packing more iron than Annie Oakley?” And that’s when I realized that there had to be a reason. “Did something happen since the last time I came home?”

“Nothing worth mentioning,” she said, and just kept on driving.

Chapter Three

MY HYBRID WOULD
never have made it. Mom drove off the road and into the desert toward the cluster of red rocks that had been party central for generations of Bloody Gulch youth for as long as kids had been sneaking booze and cigarettes.

We came to a stop just outside the circle of boulders and she shut off the headlights. I could see the dying glow of the campfire beyond the rocks, and it gave me hope. Looking around carefully, I whispered, “Stay here, Mom.”

“We stick together,” she said.

I nodded. “Tough as you are, I can still move faster on foot. And you might have to come and rescue me. Keep it running, okay? Watch for me. If I need you, I’ll wave my phone in the air with the flashlight app on. Drive to where you see it, and pick me up. Okay?”

“Be careful.” She picked the gun up off her lap, held it out to me.

I shook my head. “I’m not sure I can handle one of these things much less two.”

“I wasn’t suggesting two. Trade with me. This one packs more of a wallop.” She shrugged, leaned in and kissed my face, shoving the gun into my hands as she did. “Safety’s off so keep your finger off the trigger unless you mean it. Just point and squeeze. Now go, hurry up.”

“All right.” I got out of the car. “Remember to lock the doors until I come running.”

She nodded. “Go on, already.”

So I did. I closed the door as silently as possible, heard the locks engage, and then I crept over the desert to the red rocks I so loved. I moved low and fast, looking around me all the time, holding the detested handgun nose up like I’d seen people do on TV. When I reached the first boulder I pressed my back to it, listening, watching behind me. Nothing. And the only thing I heard from the other side of the stones was the soft snapping of the fire.

I eased around the giant boulder and the circular clearing came into view. Several people lay on the ground around the low burning fire, sleeping soundly. A handful of tents stood on the outer edge of the circle, between the sleepers and the rocks on the far side of the fire from me. I crept around toward them, staying close to the stone sentries, my focus entirely on Chuck’s tent. About five steps in, I heard something coming from inside it. Snuffling sounds.

Jeeze, was it one of them? In there with
my
Chuck?

Jerking the gun’s nose level, I let the silver barrel lead the way nearer, no longer hating the weapon. I was completely ready to use it to blow away anything or anyone who might be hurting him.

The closer I got, the louder those soft sounds were, and my horror movie-fed mind envisioned a handful of zombies munching on my boyfriend’s brain.

Stupid. No such things as zombies.

I held the gun in one hand, glancing behind me. No movement. Everyone asleep. Surely if those things had been here, no one would be lying around sleeping, would they? Maybe the campers who’d changed into monsters had left here first, and encountered whatever disaster had done this to them, somewhere else.

The tent flap was unzipped. Good. I could be quieter that way. I curled my hand around it, and lifted it slightly, pointing my gun inside, standing to one side enough so the firelight would illuminate the tent’s interior.

Chuck sat on the floor, holding Sally in his arms. She was all covered in blood and so was he. God, was he one of those...things? I kept the gun barrel pointed right at him, even knowing I couldn’t shoot him, no matter what.

“Talk to me, Chuck. Say something.”

He snapped his head up fast, his eyes flashing...with tears. “Th-they killed her. They killed my sister.”

I lowered the gun and went to him, fell to my knees and took him by the shoulders. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“No.” He looked down at his own arms, which were covered in blood. But Sally was worse. Her throat had been torn open. She’d bled out. The evidence was all over the tent, and she was clearly dead. I touched her and her skin was already cooling.

“Lay her down, Chuck. Lay Sally down for me.”

Nodding, he lowered his sister onto her blood-drenched sleeping bag and stared at her, unblinking.

“What happened here?” I asked. I felt like crying too. Sally was my best friend, but I had to get Chuck out of here. And the others, the ones out there sleeping. How the hell was I going to fit them all in Mom’s car? But first things first. “Chuck?” I prompted. “Come on, tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, some of the people went...they went crazy. Started attacking us. They were biting, clawing...” He met my eyes, his round and horrified. “They were trying to
eat
us.”

“I saw them too. They’re overrunning the town. We have to get out of here, Chuck. You understand? We have to get you and everyone else who’s still alive, out of here.
Now.
Okay?”

He looked at Sally, wiped his tears with a bloody hand. “It’s just me. No one else.”

I blinked. “What about everyone outside? Everyone who’s still sleeping...?” I think I knew the truth even as I said the words.

“They’re not sleeping, Suz. They’re dead. Those things... killed them all.”

“How... how did you–”

“I wasn’t here. I was on my way to your house, to try to talk you out of...and then I heard them, screaming. God, it was....”

I took his hand and tugged, and he came out of the tent with me. And then I looked around at the sleeping twenty-somethings. I was closer to them now. The clouds sailed gently away from the moon, and it was like a spotlight shone down on the horror. Every person on the ground was torn and bloody. Some had limbs missing. Some had throats torn open. Some had their insides spilling out of their bellies onto the hard red earth.

Then one of them moved. A hand flinched, fingers opening and closing slowly. I gripped Chuck’s shoulder. “That’s Mike. Mikey?”

“Hold on, Mikey, we’ve got you,” Chuck whispered as we picked our way through the dead, toward him.

Mikey sat up and turned to look at his. His skin was tinted blue, and the whites of his eyes were blood-red. He was missing an arm. He’d have bled out. You didn’t just lose an arm and then wake up later. His remaining arm reached for us as he struggled to get clumsily to his feet. Then he was upright, and stumbling drunkenly toward us. His gurgling groan told me he wasn’t Mikey anymore.

Several of the others started moving, too, as we edged away from the campfire. I had the gun in my hand as we backed up toward his tent, all other avenues blocked by the dead. Or undead. Or whatever the hell they were. Chuck bent low to snag the hatchet from the woodpile as we passed it. Then he sucked in a breath, and I swung toward him to see a hand clasping his shoulder.

Sally’s hand. She emerged from the tent, snapping her jaws shut over and over like a shark snapping at a flounder. Chuck shrank away from her, his face contorting in a horror I couldn’t even imagine. I pointed the gun at her head.

The others were getting their shit together, moving a little better now, homing in on us.

“Sally?” he whispered. And he stopped backing away. “Sally, c’mon...snap out of it.”

Sally snapped all right. She snapped her teeth too damn close to Chuck’s neck. He barely ducked out of the way.

I put my finger on the trigger, but just as I started to squeeze, Chuck brought the hatchet around hard. The base crushed his sister’s skull and the sob he choked out was louder than the wet smacking sound it made on impact.

She dropped like a lead weight, and Chuck stood there, staring down at her, shaking. “That wasn’t Sally.”

I grabbed him by the arm and pulled. “C’mon Chuck. We have to go.”

“I can’t just leave her.”

I stopped, grabbed his jaw and turned his head away from her. “Look around, will you?”

He blinked at the people–not the right word–all around us. Some were still getting upright, most were already on their feet, shuffling toward us. We were almost surrounded. He swore.

“This way.” I pulled him around behind his tent, toward the red rocks. There were two of the things flanking us, their arms sort of reflexively swinging out to grab at our clothes as we pushed past. One had my arm, briefly. I shrieked and Chuck swung his hatchet. Goo spattered my face, but the hand fell away, thudding to the ground, no longer attached to its owner.

The fingers were still wriggling and grasping at the ground. Chuck took my hand. I dragged my eyes off the horror of it, and we clambered up the gorgeous red rocks. The things were clawing their way up after us, or trying to. They were slow, and they didn’t seem able to reason. They’d climb up a little, then slide down again, then climb a little more. But there was no quit in them. A few made it to the top of the red boulder only seconds behind us as we scrambled down the other side.