A New Death: CJ's Story (4 page)

More zombies were approaching. And quick. I looked at Dad who was still clenching my sister’s body close to his. Her little head resting against his blood-stained chest.

“Dad…”

Nothing.

“Dad, we have to go. More are coming.”

He looked up and looked around. There were more zombies in the area and they were all beginning to take notice of us on the driveway. Dad head hung low again.

“C’mon Dad, we have to go!” I yelled, a fire now burning within my own chest.

He nodded slowly and stood. I watched as he went to put her into the backseat of the car. Into her seat.

“Dad! We can’t take her with us! What if she comes back as one of them?”

The slap came out of nowhere.

My right cheek burned from the back-handed strike, but I held back the tears. It stung like crap, but I knew he didn’t mean it. He didn’t. He’d never hit me before now. This was a fluke. This was not like him. It was the grief.

I knew it immediately because he began sobbing again.

“I’m so sorry Son! I’m so sorry…”

He reached out and pulled me in tight. He smelled of death. I let him hug me for a few seconds, before pulling away. The smell was too intense up close.

“Dad…”

He understood my plea.

He reached back into the car and pulled my sister’s lifeless body from the backseat. Her light blonde hair blew gently in the small breeze. Dad took her back inside. I watched as he laid her down in the pantry and closed the door. He came back out, put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

“Let’s go Son. Let’s go,” his voice still uneven.

We got into our SUV, pulled out the driveway and sped away from our house. I watched as it grew smaller and smaller behind us. Until finally, we weaved through our neighborhood, losing sight of my house for the last time.

My Dad white-knuckled the steering wheel tight, as he sped out of the neighborhood. His eyes focused on swerving around debris, wreckage, and the occasional zombie. He looked exhausted. His eyes were heavy and his breathing long and deep.

My Mom sat holding Opie tight to her chest, back to staring at something in the far-off distance. Something that never moved, that never changed. I was afraid that she was gone for good, unable to cope with what just happened.

We rode in silence for a long time.

It has been three days since we left our house.

Three days since we lost my sister.

Three days since the dead started walking.

We made it to the cabin without any other problems. I think we were able to make it out of the city before anyone else was able to. Our ride was a quiet one. I don’t think anyone spoke a single word. It was horrible. The only thing you would hear was the sniffles of crying.

When we reached the cabin, G-Dad, G-Mom and Aunt Laura were all there. They had made it there safely too and were on the front porch waiting for us. The relived looks on their faces were quickly extinguished as we got out of the Explorer. Noticing that Hailey was absent and the looks on our faces was enough for them to realize what had happened.

Everyone reacted differently despite that it was all the driven by the same emotion: Sorrow.

Aunt Laura put one hand over her mouth and rested the other on her stomach. She sat back down in her rocking chair and wept quietly.

G-Mom, with growing tears in her eyes, walked up to Dad and slapped him in the face. He never flinched as she began to sob and yell at him for losing her granddaughter. I knew the things she said were out of grief, not legitimate anger. I think that Dad knew that too, because once she lost steam after a minute or two, he wrapped his arm’s around her and she hugged him back just as tight.

G-Dad went to Mom and held her as he cried.

Now, in the safety of her father’s arm, my mother finally broke down.

I don’t remember how long we stood outside, but it seemed to stretch on forever. When we did finally go in, I remember Aunt Laura pulling me aside and giving me the biggest hug. She tried her best to smile.

“Have you heard from Uncle Josh yet?” I asked.

“No. Not yet,” her smile slowly fading.

I nodded and wondered if maybe I shouldn’t have asked that.

***

I looked at the clock on the kitchen wall.

We’d be at church right now.

But today, we would not be. The past few days slid by without much talking. I wouldn’t be surprised if the adults were completely unaware of what day it was. They all walked around like, well, like zombies.

At least there haven’t been any out here.

The last time I saw one was at our house. I tried not to think about the dead too much, to try my best to pretend things were normal, but I knew that wasn’t safe and that I should always be on my guard. Someone had to be.

I passed some of the time by cleaning the guns, which I’m glad Dad finally got around to teaching me how to do. There really wasn’t too much to it, just make sure you put everything back the way you found it. The rifles and shotgun were not too hard to clean. Dad’s pistol on the other hand…

Well, let’s just say it took a little elbow-grease to get the hardened brain matter crust out of the crevices.

But now, I was all out of guns to clean and it was still quiet. The old farmhouse that we called “the cabin” was roomy and the silence seemed to echo. It was here when G-Dad inherited the property and it took several summers of hard work to get it up and going. Some of the most fun days of my childhood were when the four of us men came up here to work on the old house. There was no air-conditioning, electricity or beds for that matter. We camped out in the living room in sleeping bags and ate off of Dad’s little gas-powered grill.

I have to get out of here.

“I’m going to go outside for a bit,” I announced, not sure if anybody was listening.

I grabbed G-Dad’s .270 rifle from the gun rack near the door and made my way outside.

It was sunny and pleasant. I noticed that the air had cooled down drastically from the hot temperatures of last week.

I guess we will get Fall after all.

I walked in the direction of my tree stand, the leaves and pine straw crunching underneath my feet. I didn’t really have intentions of hunting; I just needed to get out of the house. I figured being fifteen feet off the ground should be a safe place to hide for awhile. It wasn’t too far from the cabin, so I should be able to hear if anything goes down there. Or maybe I’ll hear Uncle Josh pull up.

I was actually surprised he hadn’t already shown up yet. I still won’t give up on him yet. I knew that Aunt Laura still believed he was going to make it, despite the doubts that G-Mom had about his survival.

“I’m just trying to be a realist,” she had said, in one of the few times there was speaking.

“Well, don’t. I don’t need to hear that, so keep that crap to yourself,” Aunt Laura had responded, returning the room to its former silence.

I think Aunt Laura’s hanging on to the possibility of her husband returning was what was keeping her going.

He’ll be here,
I told myself.
He probably just got hung up somewhere. And he probably went home first and then he’ll see the note that we’re out here and he’ll come. I know he will.

When I reached the stand, I climbed the cold steel ladder up to my seat. The seat was also cold; I gritted my teeth as I sat down. Looking out over the plot of land situated in front of me, I took in the smell of the woods and the sight of Georgia pines and oaks. In the small field, wild flowers grew. A feeder sat in the middle, waiting to be filled with corn.

As I settled into my spot, my mind began to wander and I thought about the property we sat on. Its defenses would have to be beefed up some, in order to protect us from the dead if they do come out here. Which I’m sure they will, in time.

There is a perimeter fence, but it’s only made out of wooden posts and a few boards. We’d have to make it stronger, maybe taller too. There are plenty of trees around, so gathering wood wouldn’t be a problem, but I don’t know if we have the tools for it. We usually brought them out with us when we came to do work.

Only one road led into the property too. There was a metal swing gate with a chain and combination lock, but if you really wanted to, you could get around it on foot. Since zombies don’t drive cars, we’ll have to look into that as well.

I heard a noise to my right. It sounded like twigs breaking. I readied the rifle and pushed the safety into the off position.

After a few Moments, I relaxed and sat back in my seat.

Must of have been the wind or something. There’s nothing there.

And that was when I heard the grunting.

It was the familiar sound of a feral hog. I steadied the rifle again and squinted into the woods, trying to find its dark shape. The sound came from my right, but from where I was sitting, my vision was blocked by the trees and the brush.

I decided to climb down and go check it out. The thought of having wild hog for dinner suddenly made me feel alive and excited for the first time in days.

Bacon. Yes, there will be bacon.

But when my feet hit the ground, the noises turned from grunting to squealing. And then from squealing to a high-pitched shrieking. I ran into the woods in the direction of the pig’s screaming. When I finally reached it, I saw why the pig was crying out.

It was being attacked by the living dead.

Three zombies had the hog surrounded; one of them was on top of its flailing body. Its short, stubby legs tried to frantically get away, but it was unable to move under the zombie’s dead weight. I watched as it sunk its decayed, yellowing teeth into the sow’s flesh. The zombie didn’t seem bothered by the coarse, black hair; it just continued to bite down, over and over again.

The pig went berserk. It began to unsuccessfully try and ram the zombie off of its back. The other two took advantage and piled onto it. I watched as the pig screamed in agony as the dead devoured it.

I’m not sure why, but I began to grow very angry. I don’t know if was the way they ganged up and attacked the hog, or maybe it was just the fact that I got myself so psyched up for bacon. But whatever the reason, I felt the anger begin to rise; my skin grew warm and my muscles tightened. It was unsettling. It was a feeling of anger that I had never experienced before. The scariest part of it all was I think I liked it.

Maybe it was the events of the past few days. With the loss of my sister and my home. The way my family has seemed to have fallen apart. With these dead freaks. I was furious.

The three, feasting zombies were completely unaware of my standing there, something I planned to use to my advantage. I lifted the rifle and placed the sights on the back of the head of the nearest zombie. I had my target within milliseconds, faster than I’ve ever taken aim before. I pulled the trigger and watched as the bullet erupted from the barrel on a colliding course with zombie #1’s skull.

The impact was different than my .22 rifle. The back of the skull caved in and brain tissue exited through the zombie’s face. The other two took notice of this.

Before they could register what just happened to their dead buddy, I already loaded another round into the bolt action rifle and took aim on zombie #2. He quickly joined his faceless friend on the ground.

The last zombie looked down at his fallen friends and then back at me, but by that time I had the next round in the chamber, ready to fire. I couldn’t believe how fast I shot, something seemed to be fueling my accuracy and efficiency. Maybe it was the anger that I felt flooding through my veins. It was somehow controlling my actions, making me somehow a better fighter. A better warrior.

A small smile crept in around my lips as I pulled the trigger for a third time. The smile grew as the zombie’s head came to the same fate as the others. Once the three of them were dispatched, the smile faded. I looked at the sow in front of me as she struggled to breathe, her skin flayed and ripped open from the zombies’ attack. I walked up to her heaving body and looked down in pity. I felt the anger begin to flush out of my body.

I loaded the gun one final time and put her out of her misery.

Stupid zombies. Ruined a good meal.

I turned to walk back to the house, to let everyone know that some zombies had gotten on our property. We would need to work on our defenses quickly. I took a few steps and stopped. There was another noise off to my left.

More?
I wondered.

I stood still and honed in my hearing, listening for any trace of sound. I heard rustling in the leaves and brush next to me, so I readied the rifle again. I had two shots left. If there were more than two zombies, I was going to be in trouble.

They came quick. Five small, dark shapes came charging at me full speed. It took a second for me to realize what was coming at me so aggressively.

It was five piglets.

The sow must have been their mother. She must have been protecting them from the zombies. They now seemed to be trying to avenge their mother by attacking the last shape on two feet. Their little grunts were filled with furry, but only came across as adorable.

Once they got closer to me, their attitudes changed. They took a couple of good sniffs of me, stopped, and turned tail back for the woods. Whatever they smelled must have scared them off. I wasn’t sure where they were going, but they most likely wouldn’t last long without their mother. They didn’t seem to be that old and were barely a foot long.

Right before they reached the brush line, I got an idea. I took a deep breath and made the best hog-sound I could. The piglets stopped and paused to look at me. They waited a second before running back in my direction.

Holy crap. It worked.

They rushed back towards me. I quickly set the rifle down on the ground and readied myself for what I planned on doing next.

Once they were within reach, I leapt through the air towards the nearest one and grabbed it.

It immediately began squirming and squealing, trying to kick itself free from my grip. The other four took off into the woods, leaving their brother in my arms. I fought its squirming for a few minutes, until it finally calmed down and relaxed.

“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” I told it.

It reluctantly looked up at me and snorted.

“I’ll take care of you. It’s not safe out there for you now.”

The piglet snorted again in reply. He seemed to be ok with me, for now. He wasn’t too heavy yet, and I was able to hold him with one arm. He no longer tried to free himself, but almost seemed to snuggle himself into my chest. I picked the rifle up of the ground and smiled.

Hailey would have loved you.

She loved animals and wanted to be a veterinarian when she grew up. No doubt she would have been ecstatic to have a pig as a pet. I felt the sadness creep back into me, into where the anger had just consumed me.

I looked down at the pig and he back up at me. It could have been my imagination, but it seemed like he sympathized with me.

“It’s gonna be okay pig,” I said out loud. “We’re gonna make it through this.”

I began to walk back towards the house, stopping by the road that led into our property.

“Soon Uncle Josh is gonna be here, pig. And he’ll know what to do.”

The pig snorted in reply.

“What am I going to call you?”