Welcome to the free blog version of Robert R Best's zombie novel Lakewood Memorial. A new chapter will be posted every week. Find prior chapters in the archive to the right. Subscribe for the latest. Enjoy!

Monday, September 24, 2012

Twenty


Maylee frowned down at Brooke's phone. The display complained of low battery, then winked out completely. It was dead. "Guess we won't be going back to the house to see if Brooke brought the charger with her."
Dalton looked back at the house, then back at Maylee. "They had her insides, Maylee." He had a look Maylee hadn't seen on him since he was very small.
"I know," said Maylee, pushing down her own fear. "But we just have to try not to think about it. Let's get this car and get to Mom, okay?"
Dalton looked down, then back up. "Do you think... do you think I got Brooke killed?"
Maylee bit her lip and looked at him. "No, Dalton." She knelt to look him in the eye. "Listen to me. Those things are what killed Brooke. We were just trying to get the phone so we could call for help. Okay?"
Dalton looked at her. For a second he was a scared little kid. Then the braver Dalton, the Dalton who had knocked a hole to the basement and crawled through it, resurfaced. "Okay."
She smiled at him. "Now, let's steal a car."
She stood. Dalton looked up and down the street. "Won't we get in trouble?"
Maylee shrugged. "Maybe. But I think there's more important things to worry about."
"Brooke has ...had a car."
Maylee looked at him. "You want to go back to get the keys from her?"
Dalton looked back to the house, then back to Maylee. He shook his head.
"Me neither," she said. She turned back to the car and pulled on the door handle. "Damn."
"What?" said Dalton.
"It's locked. Whoever's car this is must have locked their keys in the car."
"Should we find another one?"
Maylee looked up and down the street. She could hear moaning, this time a little closer than before. "Don't think we'll get lucky like this again. And besides, we have to get moving. Can't stay in one place very long tonight."
"Those corpses are everywhere," said Dalton.
"Yeah," said Maylee. "Stand back." She took a step back from the car and swung her bat at the driver's window. It shattered with a loud crash, sending glass to the street and all across the front seat of the car.
Dalton walked up, wide-eyed. "Damn. It's your fault if I get glass in my butt."
"Just get in.” She reached inside and hit the unlock button.
Dalton went to the other side and opened the door. Maylee opened the driver's door and brushed as much glass as she could out into the street. She tossed her bat in the back seat and sat, wincing at the sound of crunching glass but feeling no pain that would indicate injury.
"Okay," she said. "This should work. Put on your seat belt."
"What? We're stealing a car, Maylee. Car thieves don't need to wear seat belts."
She turned to glare at him. "Will you just do it?" She fastened hers. "I'm not going to get us this far and then kill us both in a crash."
Grumbling, he fastened his seat belt. "I wonder why the person whose car this was left their keys in it."
Maylee shrugged. "Probably rushing to get inside. Probably heard about all the trouble on the news."
"What if he died in the car?"
Maylee rolled her eyes at him. "If he died in the car, he'd still be sitting in the front seat. Dead people don't move."
They both looked at each other, realizing.
A corpse grabbed at them from the back seat.
Maylee and Dalton both screamed. The corpse, a thin man in a business suit, clutched Maylee's head and pulled back. Maylee frantically scrambled with the seat belt latch. The thin man pulled Maylee's cheek close to his mouth. The seat belt came free. Maylee grabbed the hard metal end of the strap and shoved it into the man's eye. He made no reaction.
Dalton was struggling with his seat belt. Maylee balled up her hand and slammed backward at where the seat belt was lodged in the corpse's eye. She heard something pop and the corpse let go and seemed to lose focus. I must have hurt the brain.
"Dalton!" she said, twisting in the seat to help him with the seat belt. "The brain! You've got to hurt the brain to stop these things." She undid his belt and he slid out the passenger door.
She opened her door and jumped outside. Dalton ran around to her side of the car. "My bat?" Maylee said. "Where's my bat?"
"You left it in the back seat," said Dalton. He tugged at her hand. "Come on. Let's just go."
Maylee shook her head. The corpse was thrashing around in the back seat, sluggishly and slow, but still dangerous. "No. We need this car to get to Mom."
She reached back inside the open driver's door, around to the back seat. The corpse was thrashing just a few feet away, so she moved quick. She pulled up the lock on the driver's side rear door. Then she hurriedly grabbed her bat and pulled her arm back. Looking around the pavement, she found a fallen tree branch and tossed it to Dalton. The she stepped back, holding the bat.
"Now, go unlock the other door."
"What? No way."
"Come on, Dalton!" She looked up and down the street. "We don't have much time."
"What's the stick for?"
"To push him out this side," said Maylee, using the bat to indicate her side.
"You're nuts!"
"Will you just do it!"
Dalton grumbled as he walked around and opened the passenger front door. He looked through the window at the corpse. The corpse was closer to Maylee's side and seemed not to notice Dalton at all. He reached in very carefully, and quickly pulled up the lock on the passenger rear door. He drew his hand out quickly and stepped away from the car.
"Dammit! That thing could have bit me."
"I know," said Maylee. "But you did good. Now open the door."
"Maylee..."
"Dalton, hurry! Those things are wandering around everywhere and we have no idea when one's gonna find us out here. Maybe even a bunch of them. We have to get in this car."
Dalton made a very worried whine and opened the back door.
Maylee opened hers. The corpse heard the sound and whipped its head from side to side, grunting. The seat belt fell from the corpse's eye.
"Now push!" said Maylee.
Dalton steeled himself and shoved the corpse in the shoulder with the branch. The corpse toppled out of the car onto the pavement, right at Maylee's feet.
It had just started to right itself when Maylee slammed her bat down on the corpse's skull. There was a horrible "crack" and the thing moaned.
Dalton came around to Maylee's side, mouth hanging open, watching Maylee.
"Dammit," said Maylee, slamming the bat down again. The corpse's head crumpled and blood seeped out a crack in its forehead. But it still moved, grabbing weakly at her.
"Just fucking die!" she screamed, slamming down one more time. The corpse's skull collapsed and Maylee's bat rang off the pavement. The corpse was still.
"Crap," said Dalton, looking down.
Maylee panted down at her handiwork. "We're gonna have to get something better than a bat." She looked at the blood and flesh coating her bat and grimaced. She wiped it on the corpse's clothes.
"That's gross, Maylee," said Dalton.
"Well I'm sorry. Do you have a hanky on you?"
"No."
"Then shut up." She checked the bat again. It was clean. "Let's get out of here."
She shut the back door on her side and Dalton went around and did his. They both climbed back in the car and shut the front doors. Maylee wiped her seat belt on the seat, then put it back on.
"The seat belt again?" said Dalton.
"Just do it."
He sighed and did.
Maylee let out a long sigh and turned the ignition.
Nothing. Not the slightest attempt at starting.
"What's wrong?" said Dalton.
Maylee tried a few more times, then groaned. "Oh shit. The dead guy must have died with the car running. The gas is gone, Dalton." She pulled the keys out and sat back in the seat.
Dalton took off his seat belt. "Looks like we're walking."
"For now," said Maylee, undoing hers. "I'll think of something." She climbed out of the car and the corpse of a woman hissed at her, inches from her face.
Maylee screamed. The woman's brown hair was matted with blood and her eyes rolled back into her head. The woman leaned in to bite.
With a grunt, Dalton came running around the other side of the car and shoved the woman down. The woman fell to the pavement, squirming and moaning.
"Hurry!" said Dalton, pointing at her. "Bat her!"
Maylee shook herself out of her shock. "Oh, right." She reached back into the car and grabbed the bat.
The woman was sitting back up and groaning just as Maylee slammed the woman across the cheek. The woman's jaw split and blood flew off to one side.
"The brain!" said Dalton.
"I know! I'm the one who told you!" said Maylee. She brought the bat over her head and slammed downward as hard as she could. The top of the woman's head bent inward. Blood seeped out her ears. She fell backward and was still.
"Dammit!" said Maylee. She wiped sweat from her forehead. "This is why I told you we have to hurry." She wiped the bat on the woman's clothes, noticing the woman was wearing pajamas and a bathrobe.
Dalton noticed it too. "She must have come from the house."
Maylee nodded. "Yeah, probably." She looked up and down the street, still winded. "Okay, let's go."
She and Dalton started walking toward the end of the street. Then she stopped.
"Wait," she said, looking at the keys in her hand.
"What?" said Dalton, turning back.
"There's a bunch of keys on here, and two car unlocker-things," said Maylee, showing Dalton the key chain.
Dalton walked back to her and looked. "So? Maybe that was his wife there, and that's the thing to her car."
Maylee nodded. "Yeah. And do you know what this is?" She indicated a small device hanging from one end of the chain.
"No. What?"
Maylee pointed the device toward the house and clicked it. With a whine and a squeaking of gears, the garage to the house's left opened. The door slowly rose up and shuddered to a stop.
Another car sat in the garage.
"Please work, please work, please work," said Maylee, pointing the key chain at the new car and pushing one of the unlock buttons.
The car beeped and lit up.
Maylee turned back to Dalton and grinned.

Monday, September 17, 2012

Nineteen


The corpses behind the glass doors writhed and grasped at them. Park stared at them, rifle slung over his shoulder. Why had he come back? What was he doing standing here with these people? He could have been dead by now.
"You sure guns will be enough?" asked Kristen, looking at Angie. "I'll have to push Dad."
"Glad someone thought of that," said Mr. Paulson.
Angie looked at Kristen, then Mr. Paulson. "Wait here." She slung the rifle over her shoulder and walked down the hallway. Park noticed she walked around Sam and Freeda but didn't look down.
"And what's on your deep ocean of a mind?" said Mr. Paulson.
"How much you'll slow me down," said Park.
Kristen scowled at him. Good. Last thing he wanted was anymore fucking friends.
It would be so easy to just blow his head off right now. Let them have one extra gun and one less person. Easy.
Angie walked back in, pushing an electric wheelchair. "Forgot we stored these in the back room."
Mr. Paulson snorted. "You mean I could have had one of those fuckers all this time?"
"Sure looks that way," said Angie. She pushed the chair until it was right next to Mr. Paulson.
"Here," she said, grabbing Mr. Paulson's arm. Kristen grabbed the other one and they helped Mr. Paulson over to the new chair.
Angie moved to switch the oxygen tank from one chair to the other. She glanced at Kristen, doting over her father. Kristen's face was red and taut. Full of anguish. Angie's face briefly softened, but the look was quickly gone. Damn right, thought Park. Stupid bitch got her friend killed.
The tank done, Angie stepped over to the front of the wheelchair. "Push the button here," she said, pointing.
"I know how to do it," said Mr. Paulson, pushing her hand away. He pushed a button on the right arm of the chair and the joystick-like controller lit up. He pulled the controller back and the chair lurched backward, almost hitting Kristen.
"Whoopsie-daisy," said Kristen, her voice raw and flat. She laughed but her eyes weren't in it. Park considered offering to shoot her, but he chuckled and looked away.
"What's so funny?" said Angie.
"Nothing," said Park. "Can we go anytime soon?"
"Damn," said Kristen, looking at her hands. Black grease from the wheelchair's underside was smeared across her fingers.
"Better wash those," said Angie. "Don't want to drop anything once we're out there."
Kristen walked over to the sink and turned on the hot water. It sputtered, spit out a few drops, then stopped. Kristen turned on the cold. Nothing.
"What's wrong?" said Angie, walking over. Park followed, curious.
"Great, just great," said Kristen, wiping her hands on her shirt. She sniffed and rubbed at one of her eyes. Black smeared across her cheek. "The water's out."
"Something must have happened to the main," said Park. "All kinds of shit going on out there, it's a wonder the lights haven't gone off for good yet."
Angie nodded. "Wait, if the water's off..." She looked around at the ceiling. "Give me your lighter."
"I'm out of cigarettes," said Park. "Can't help you there."
"Just the lighter," Angie said, not taking her eyes off the ceiling.
Park shrugged. He fished out his lighter and handed it to her.
Angie walked over to the nurse's desk and climbed up onto it.
"What the holy fuck are you doing up there?" said Mr. Paulson, wheeling himself over. "I thought dumbshit there broke the ladder. And besides, how would I..."
"Now, Dad," said Kristen, walking over to him. "Let's just see what she's doing." She sounded upbeat but her voice was shaking.
Angie flicked the lighter on and held it up to the nearest sprinkler. The sprinkler sputtered out a few drops but otherwise did not respond.
Angie smiled. "If the water's off, then so are the sprinklers." She tossed the lighter back to Park, then jumped down off the desk. "And you said they don't like fire, right?"
Park nodded. "Yeah, but we've just got the one lighter."
"Two," said Mr. Paulson, fishing an old-fashioned butane lighter from his hospital robe.
"Dad!" said Kristen. "What do you have that for?"
"I use it to warm my balls, what the hell do you think?" said Mr. Paulson.
Park looked at Mr. Paulson, then back to Angie. "Okay then, two. Now we have twice the amount of jack shit we had before."
"Wait here," said Angie, walking over to the sink. She opened some cabinets and started rooting around.
Park looked over at Kristen and Mr. Paulson. Kristen was doting and Mr. Paulson was sulking.
It would be so easy to shoot himself. But he wanted to see what Angie had planned.
Angie pulled out a plastic jug of something. Then two more. Then three more. She took one of the jugs and carried it over.
"Rubbing alcohol," she said. "Won't burn for long but it will burn. Watch."
She took Park's lighter from his hand without asking. She walked over to one of the glass doors. Corpses writhed and bit at her. She splashed some of the alcohol on the door and lit it. Flame roared across the glass for a few seconds, then was gone. The glass was scorched and darkened and the room smelled of smoke. But behind the glass, the corpses had backed up several feet.
Park raised an eyebrow and nodded. "That would definitely help."
Angie nodded back at him. She held out his lighter. Park shook his head. "Keep it. You start fires, I'll shoot." He smirked at her.
She smirked back and put the lighter in her smock pocket. "Okay then. Let's see what else we have we can use as weapons."
Mr. Paulson pointed at the jugs of alcohol. "I hope you aren't planning on me carrying all those fuckers."
Angie looked down at Mr. Paulson, then reached for his waist.
"What the fuck?" said Mr. Paulson. Angie grabbed the belt of his hospital robe and pulled it free.
"Hospital property," she said. She walked over to the jugs of alcohol. She threaded the belt through four of the jug handles, then lifted it all up off the counter. She tied the belt around her waist, two jugs dangling at each hip. She double knotted and pulled it so tight Park winced.
"That's gotta hurt," said Park.
"You bet it does," said Angie. "But it'll work."
Park nodded. "Got anything sharp? Scalpels or some shit?"
Angie thought about it, then walked to another counter. She pulled open a drawer and pulled out packets of scalpels and blades. She opened the protective plastic and put four scalpels together. She stuck one in the robe belt. She handed the other three out to Park, Kristen and Mr. Paulson.
"They don't feel pain," said Angie, “but you can use these to cut free a finger or hand. Wish we had something that could cut deeper, but surgeries aren't generally done at the nurse's station."
Angie paused, looking at Kristen. "Here," she said. She took the rifle off her shoulder and handed it to her. "Since Mr. Paulson can move himself now, you can use this."
Kristen blanched at the sight of the gun. "I'm not really that good with a gun..."
Angie cut her off. "You were good enough to pretend to shoot Sam. Just take it. Aim for the brain and try not to waste ammo."
Kristen took the gun.
Angie turned to look at the three glass doors. The corpses had returned to the scorched one. All three doors were covered with corpses, squirming and grasping. Park stepped up next to her.
"Which door?" he said, taking his rifle off his shoulder.
Angie shrugged. She picked up a fifth jug of alcohol and popped off the cap. She took out the lighter. "I don't suppose it matters." She pointed at the one in the middle. "Though that one will give us a choice of two hallways at the middle of it. It splits off. One half goes straight to the emergency room. That's the hallway we came down to get here. The other half goes to the cafeteria, laundry room, and eventually back around to just outside the emergency room."
"Always good to have choices," said Park. "I guess we'll do that one."
Angie turned to the others. "We ready?"

Monday, September 10, 2012

Eighteen


Angie clenched at the sound of her children screaming. She was pacing the patient hallway, cell phone against her ear. Park had given her the other rifle. It was slung over one shoulder, slapping against her back as she paced.
"Maylee!" she screamed into the phone. "Dalton!"
She heard the sounds of a struggle. And moaning. And her children screaming.
Then she heard something knocking the phone around. Feet? Hands? Her kids' hands?
"Maylee?" she yelled. Freeda ran in from the nurse's station.
"Dalton?" Angie yelled. Tears were coming freely now. She heard more screams, then the sound of something crunching down on the phone. Then static.
Then nothing. The phone was dead.
Angie stopped. She was at the far end of the hallway, in front of the window that looked out over the darkened trees and hills behind the hospital. She listened to the hum of her own phone.
"Maylee! Dalton!" she screamed. She was shaking. Her phone finally recognized the connection was lost and dropped it.
Angie was crying. "Oh god." She snapped the phone shut and let her hand fall to her side.
Then Freeda was behind her. "Anj?"
"They're dead, Freeda." Angie didn't look back at Freeda. She stared at the dark outlines of treetops. Somewhere out there are more of the things that killed my children. Killed them while I was stuck in here.
"You don't know that..."
"I heard it," said Angie. "Oh god, Freeda, I heard them screaming."
"Anj..."
"I wasn't there. Why the hell wasn't I there? My children died and I wasn't there."
Behind her, Freeda said nothing.
Angie drew in a ragged breath. "I can't do this anymore, Freeda."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I'm done," Angie said, putting her forehead on the glass. I could break out the window. I could jump.
"Don't say things like that..."
"What the hell am I supposed to say?" said Angie, turning to face Freeda.
Sam Shuab grabbed Freeda from behind and bit into her temple.
Freeda gasped. Blood spurted from her temple and Sam chewed. His eyes were clouded and thick dark fluid oozed from the gaping hole in the back of his head.
"Freeda!" yelled Angie.
Sam pulled Freeda back down the hallway, chewing and moaning. Freeda grabbed at Angie but missed. Her arms flailed at nothing as Sam pulled her back. She kicked, her legs scraping against the floor.
Angie lunged forward, dropping her cell phone to the floor. She grabbed Freeda with both hands and tried to pull her away. Sam pulled back and bit deeper into Freeda's head. Freeda screamed. Blood ran down her face and into her open mouth. Her fingers dug into Angie's arm, strong at first but quickly becoming weaker.
Sam wrenched Freeda away from Angie like an animal protecting its food. He took several steps back, dragging Freeda with him. He kept chewing into Freeda's head. Freeda started shaking and convulsing.
Angie rushed after her. Her foot landed on her cell phone. She stumbled and heard her phone snap in two under her feet.
Angie stopped and watched Sam eating Freeda. Cold reason hit her. It's too late.
And only then did she remember the rifle on her back. One more failure to add to the pile.
She pulled the rifle from her shoulder and leveled it at Sam's forehead. How long had it been since she'd last handled a gun? She couldn't remember.
She remembered enough. She fired and Sam's head snapped back. Blood and bits of Freeda's head spilled from his mouth. He let go of Freeda and fell over backward.
Freeda slumped to the ground, twitching.
Angie stepped over and looked down at Freeda. Tears stung Angie's eyes and cheeks.
Freeda convulsed and jerked. Blood ran from her temple and onto the floor. Freeda looked at Angie. Pain and fear filled her eyes.
"Damn it," whispered Angie down at Freeda. "I'm sorry."
Angie pointed down and shot Freeda just above the left eye. A large red hole appeared in Freeda's head and Freeda slumped still.
"Oh god!" came Kristen's voice from the front of the hall. Angie looked. Kristen stood there, Park behind her. Mr. Paulson was out of sight somewhere behind them.
Kristen started to run in. Angie pointed the gun at her.
"Stop! All of you stop!"
“Oh god," said Kristen, shaking and putting her hands to her mouth. "I'm so sorry."
"You shut up! I should shoot you right now!"
"I couldn't do it," said Kristen. "Sam..."
Tears came faster now. "He was dead! I'm sorry for that, but he was already dead!" She motioned with the gun at Freeda's body. Her face still showed the fear and pain she had died in. "This didn't have to happen!"
She looked down at Freeda for several seconds. She drew in a breath and spun the gun around to face herself. She put the barrel in her mouth.
Kristen stepped forward. "No!"
Angie took the rifle out of her mouth and pointed it back at Kristen. "Stay back! There's nothing stopping me from shooting you first!"
Kristen was crying. "Your kids..."
"My kids are dead, you stupid bitch. And so am I."
She turned the rifle back on herself. She put her mouth over the barrel. It was still warm from shooting Freeda. She put her finger on the trigger.
The cell phone in Freeda's smock started ringing.
Angie stopped and stared at Freeda's pocket. She could see the phone flashing.
Kristen stood still at the front of the hall, biting the ends of her fingers.
The phone kept ringing.
Angie slowly removed the gun from her mouth and lowered it. She knelt down next to Freeda's body. Freeda stared at her with empty eyes. Angie fished the cell phone from Freeda's pocket. She opened it and answered.
"Hello?" she said.
"Mom?"
Maylee.
* * *
Maylee stood in the middle of the street just in front of what was left of her house. Dalton stood next to her, looking scared but unhurt. She held her bat in one hand and Brooke's cell phone in the other. She'd found it in the middle of the yard, where Brooke appeared to have thrown it. That or she made it out here, then went back into the house before ...
"Maylee?" said Mom's voice on the phone. "Oh my god. Are you okay? Is Dalton okay?"
"We're both fine. We tried calling your phone but it wouldn't answer. Finally I remembered Freeda's number. Brooke..." Maylee paused and swallowed.
When she and Dalton had escaped the kitchen, dropping the phone and ducking under the grasp of the corpses, their first thought had been to run around to the front of the house. That was the way Brooke had been running when they separated, and that was where Brooke's screaming had come from.
And that's where they had found what was left of Brooke. She had been torn open. Like a bag of meat and organs. And those things, those corpses that somehow still walked and ate, were crouching down next to her, pulling out hunks of her and eating. They had looked vacantly at Maylee and Dalton as they chewed.
"Why aren't they attacking us?" Dalton had asked.
"Because they already have food," Maylee had responded. "As soon as they run out, we'll be next."
Brooke's head had been the only recognizable part of her left. Her hair spread out toward the sidewalk. Her open eyes stared at Maylee and Dalton.
Maylee tried not to think of Brooke. Tried to focus on Mom's voice on the phone. "They got her, Mom."
"Oh my god," said Mom, quietly. "Listen, you have to get somewhere safe and hide."
"Nowhere's safe, Mom," said Maylee, walking up the street. She looked into the windows of the cars parked along the curb. Looking for something.
She found it.
"Maylee, you've got to..."
"Mom," said Maylee, cutting her off. "I have to confess something to you."
Mom paused. "What are you talking about?"
Maylee rubbed her hand on her forehead and looked up and down the street. She could hear screaming and see corpses wandering in the distance, but nothing close. The phone beeped in her ear. She held it away from her face and looked. The battery was dying. She sighed and put the phone back to her ear. "You know my friend Stacy? We've been sneaking out her mom's car from time to time. To practice driving."
"Maylee, you're fourteen!"
"I'm pretty sure I know that, Mom." She rolled her eyes at Dalton. He was looking up and down the street, looking scared. "And we don't have a lot of time right now, Brooke's phone's dying."
"You brought it up. Why on earth are we talking about this now?" asked Mom.
"Because someone left their keys in this car," said Maylee, looking through the window. "And we're stealing it."
"Maylee, you will do no such thing! The police..."
"Have more important things to worry about. We're coming to the hospital."
The phone beeped again and went dead.
* * *
Angie swore at the phone and dialed Brooke's number. It rang and rang, but no answer. Either Maylee was ignoring her or the phone had died like Maylee had said. She snapped the phone shut and walked to the nurse's station.
Kristen was standing there, red faced and crying. Park was standing with his arms crossed, rifle slung over his shoulder. Mr. Paulson sat in his wheelchair, scowling about something but keeping quiet.
"We going?" said Park.
"Yeah," said Angie. "We're going. We've got to get to the parking lot as soon as possible. My kids are alive and they're coming here."
"Oh thank god," said Kristen.
"You shut up," said Angie. "We're getting out, I'm getting my kids and we're getting the hell out of here."
"Works for me," said Park, shrugging. "Which way we going?"
"Pick a hallway," said Angie, taking the rifle from her shoulder and gripping it. 

Monday, September 3, 2012

Seventeen


Dalton gripped the flashlight and opened the door. He saw only the backyard, silent and still. A little brighter now. The moon must be back. He snapped the flashlight off and stuck his head outside the door. He looked both ways. Nothing.
He took a deep breath. He heard Maylee and Brooke start banging on the bathroom door. He heard the corpses moan in response.
"Hey!" came Maylee's voice, sounding far away and muffled. "We're in here! Come and get us!"
Dalton ducked out the door and into the yard.
He took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the moonlight and to listen. He heard moaning here and there, but nothing close. He swallowed and headed for the side of the house.
Rounding the corner, he saw nothing. He sighed in relief and walked as quietly as he could up the side of the house. He stopped at the corner, where he could see the street.
A few corpses were wandering up the street. At least Dalton assumed they were corpses. They moved too slowly and too strangely to be human. None of them saw Dalton.
He heard screams somewhere far off. Voices he didn't recognize. Screams of pain or fear. Maybe an alarm, too far away to be sure.
He steeled up his courage and poked his head around the corner. The front yard looked clear. He smiled and stepped out, facing the side of the front stoop.
Cold hands closed on his throat from behind.
Without thinking, Dalton dropped to his knees. The move was out of panic more than anything else, but he slipped free of the corpse's fingers. He spun onto his rear and looked up.
It was a woman with blond hair and ...
Dalton blinked.
Mrs. Harris. His teacher. He recognized her blond hair and green eyes, but the bottom half of her face was torn to shreds. A wet cavity of blood and meat. Her tongue flopped from side to side. Two bones on each side of her face, what was left of her jaw, worked up and down. She reached for him.
Dalton screamed, clambered to his feet, and ran.
He ran to the front porch and looked inside. The living room was a wreck. A big group of corpses was clustered outside the bathroom door, groaning at Maylee and Brooke as they banged on the door from inside. The corpses didn't notice him, but they were blocking the way to the kitchen. He'd have to use the side door, the one the eyeless man had come through.
He swallowed and hoped there weren't any corpses in there. Mrs. Harris gurgled at him from his right, reminding him to hurry.
He ran for the other side of the house. Fear of Mrs. Harris pushed him around the corner without stopping to look. He stopped when he realized what he was doing. It was clear. No corpses between him and the kitchen door. It swung to and fro, just as the corpses had apparently left it. He glanced back at Mrs. Harris. She was just past the front porch now, moving slowly and making a low choking growl.
Dalton sucked in his breath and ran for the kitchen. He stopped when he reached the door.
Through the doorway to the kitchen, Dalton could see the corpses crowding the bathroom. They were all in the hallway and the kitchen looked clear. He could see the phone in its cradle next to the microwave. The phone Brooke had used to call for the pizza.
As quietly as he could, he crept into the kitchen and headed for the phone.
He could hear Maylee and Brooke banging on the door. The corpses were focused on them. None of them noticed Dalton creeping up from behind. He was almost to the phone.
Groaning came from behind him. Dalton turned. The corpse from earlier, the one with his head bent all the way back, was standing in the doorway. The corpse's back faced Dalton, which meant the corpse's head faced Dalton. The corpse saw. He groaned at him.
Dalton screamed. The corpses in the hallway heard and turned and groaned at him. Corpses closed in on him from both sides.
* * *
Maylee was in the middle of hitting the door, hand raised in mid-strike, when Dalton's scream echoed through the house. The sound sent cold panic through her. She heard the corpses at the door change their focus, heard their groans now being directed at the kitchen. "Dalton!" she yelled.
"There's too many!" he yelled.
"I'm coming!" she yelled. She unlocked the door.
"Maylee, don't!" yelled Brooke, pulling Maylee back. "Let me do it! It's too dangerous."
Brooke opened the door. Over Brooke's shoulder, Maylee could see the corpses moving to the kitchen.
"Hey!" yelled Brooke. She kicked one of the corpses in the back. "Look, dumb-asses! More meat over here!"
The corpses turned to Brooke. Maylee could see Dalton in the kitchen, running away from the corpse with his head bent all the way back.
"That's right!" yelled Brooke at the corpses. "Come on!" She ran down the hallway. The corpses slowly followed her. Maylee stood as far back and as still as she could, amazed that none of them noticed her.
When the hallway was clear, Maylee snatched up her bat from the back of the toilet and ran for the kitchen. Dalton was barely avoiding the broken-neck corpse, which was stumbling around and grabbing at him.
Maylee ran up to the corpse and, screaming, slammed the thing across the head with her bat. The thing's head snapped up the other way, landing against the thing's chest. The corpse groaned, muffled now, and stumbled away. She ran to Dalton and grabbed him.
"Did they hurt you?" she asked.
"No," said Dalton. "No, I'm fine."
"Come on, we gotta go!"
She pulled him out the door and looked up and down the side of the house. A blond woman, face in ruin, was rounding the corner from the front. Maylee figured she and Dalton could get around her. The backyard was too dark to chance.
"Wait!" said Dalton, pulling on her arm. "The phone! I forgot the phone!"
* * *
Brooke ran for the living room, hoping the corpses were following her. She stopped and looked back. Sure enough, they were stumbling after her, groaning and working their jaws. She looked around for a weapon. Nothing. Just toppled furniture, a ruined TV and ...
her phone!
She rushed over and bent to pick it up. She opened it and started punching in 911.
The corpses reached the living room. They came at her, groaning.
No time for phone calls. She closed the phone. "Guys!" she yelled, hoping Dalton and Maylee could hear. "Go out the kitchen door! I'm going out the front!"
She turned to rush out the front door. The pizza boy stood there, neck gaping and oozing dark blood. He gurgled and hissed at her.
Without thinking, without time for thought, Brooke backed away. Cold hands fell on her shoulders. She spun, screaming. The man with no eyes groaned at her. She wrenched herself free, backing away from the approaching group of corpses.
The pizza boy at her back grabbed her by the hair. He moaned and bit into the back of her head. Brooke sucked in a sharp gasp as his teeth scraped against her skull. Then pain hit and she shrieked.
She felt the pizza boy pull away a section of her scalp. She heard him chew. The corpses in front of her, led by the eyeless man, drew close. The eyeless man moaned and leaned in to bite her shoulder. Blood shot across the eyeless man's face, pooling in his empty eye sockets. Brooke screamed and the eyeless man chewed.
The other corpses drew near. Brooke was nearly lost in a haze of pain and shock. Her right hand still gripped her cell phone.
The kids.
She mustered the last bit of sanity and strength she had. She turned to face the pizza boy. He was chewing on a hunk of her scalp. Brooke saw her own hair and skin dangle from the pizza boy's mouth.
"Fuck you," she said. Then she flung the phone over his shoulder, out into the yard.
Please God, let them find it.
The eyeless man bit into her neck. Numerous cold hands closed on her.
Brooke screamed one last time.
* * *
"We have to get the phone!" said Dalton, pulling Maylee back toward the kitchen.
"Forget the phone!" yelled Maylee, tugging him back the other way. "We have to get out of here!"
"We gotta call Mom!" yelled Dalton, wriggling his hand free of Maylee and running back inside.
"Dammit, Dalton!" said Maylee. She gripped the handle of her bat and followed.
Maylee ran inside and first saw the broken-neck corpse stumbling blindly around. His face was still buried in his chest and he was far enough away to be safe for the moment. Dalton was grabbing the phone off its charger. He started dialing. Maylee ran over and snatched it from him.
"Forget the damned phone!" she said, dropping the phone on the counter. "We have to get out of here NOW."
Brooke's screams came from the living room. Both Maylee and Dalton stopped and looked at each other. The broken-neck corpse jerked in reaction to the scream, moaning into its chest and reaching at nothing.
"Brooke!" yelled Maylee, running through the kitchen and into the hallway. Dalton followed behind her.
The hallway was full of corpses, all pushing their way into the living room with their backs to Maylee and Dalton. Somewhere among them, Brooke was screaming. Maylee couldn't see her.
"Brooke!" Maylee shouted. She slammed the bat into the head of the closest corpse. The corpse shook and turned to face her. It was an old woman wearing a floral-print dress and a half-rotten old hat. Her eyes were white and she chattered brown, rotten teeth at Maylee.
Maylee screamed and the corpses clogging the hallway turned in response.
"Crap," said Dalton.
"Yeah," said Maylee. She turned to run back to the kitchen. Dalton followed.
Maylee stopped as she reached the kitchen. The blond woman missing the bottom half of her face was staggering in. Her bloody, ruined jaw worked up and down and she let out a bloody hiss.
Maylee gripped her bat tight and ran to the woman. Screaming, she slammed the woman across the head as hard as she could. The woman's head snapped to one side with a loud "pop" and the woman staggered. Maylee ran past her and into the side yard, assuming Dalton was behind her.
She was wrong. She spun around, looking. "Dalton?"
"Mom?" came Dalton's voice from the kitchen. "Mom, it's me!"
Maylee ran back into the kitchen. Dalton was at the counter, phone held to his ear.
"Dalton!" yelled Maylee. The corpses from the hallway were staggering into the kitchen. The two corpses already in the kitchen were staggering around, heads limp, but it was only a matter of time before one of them found him. Maylee rushed over and snatched the phone from Dalton's hand. "Dammit, we have to go!"
Mom's voice came from the phone, quiet and metallic sounding. "Maylee? Is that you?"
Maylee looked around the room. They had seconds to get out, maybe. She put the phone to her ear. "Mom?"
"Maylee?" came Mom's voice. "Oh thank God. Is there..."
"They're everywhere Mom, they just keep coming!"
"I know, honey. Just please get somewhere safe!"
Maylee looked around. It was going to be tight. "Mom, I'm sorry."
"What?"
Maylee swallowed. "I'm sorry for what I said, Mom." She sniffed and wiped at her eyes.
Dalton seemed to finally notice how close the corpses from the hallway were getting. He looked around, panic on his face.
"Maylee honey, I'm sorry too." It sounded like Mom was crying. "Just please..."
Dalton started screaming. Maylee looked around. The corpses were close now. One grabbed Dalton. He kept screaming, struggling with the corpse.
"Dalton!" yelled Maylee, dropping the phone.
"Maylee! Dalton!" came Mom's distant voice from the phone as it fell. Then Maylee was too far away to hear.