Alone No More (16 page)

The two kids in the back asleep slowly roused after the vehicle came to a full stop on the shoulder of the road. Abby wiped the sleep from her eyes and leaned forward between her parents.

She asked in a half asleep whisper, “What’s up?” 

“Looks like we are walking the last few miles to Auburn Lake babe,” her mother replied soberly.

“Are you shitting me?” Abby rolled her eyes.

“Watch your language Abigail. Of all days it’s Christmas,” her father scolded her mockingly.

Randy sat forward and set his head on his sister’s shoulder. “Are we screwed here?”

The mom and dad contemplated their response before Charles finally snickered, and responded to his son, ”Well Randy, that really is a subjective question. Are we screwed because dead people are staying kind of alive and trying to kill us? Then yeah, we’re screwed. But in reality, things are decent. We just need to go for a little walk to get where we need to be.”

Randy scratched his head and sighed. “You suck dad.”

“Thanks son. Let’s get our stuff and get moving. If we hustle we might be able to get to the school by dark.” 

*****

The snow wasn’t deep in the road mercifully. They had the good fortune of traveling from home, so they all had their winter boots and jackets. Randy of course being the typical 12 year old boy decided long ago that boots were “for pussies.” All he wore on his feet was an extra pair of socks, and his sneakers. Charles walked first, using his bigger feet to drag paths through the snow so his family didn’t have to wade into the full five inch deep snow. 

When the sun was as its peak they saw the first dead person walking in the road since the car died. They came up behind him and got to within 20 feet before Charles motioned for them to stop. He turned around and got the golf club from Randy, handing him the shotgun in return. The family all readied themselves for the worst, and Charlie took off at a run at the zombie.

Even at his age Charlie was in good athletic condition. It helped dramatically that he hadn’t eaten a normal meal in a month as well. All that was left on him was skin, bone, and muscle. He trudged at a good jog behind the zombie and it wasn’t until he was ten feet away that it heard his muffled footsteps in the snow. It was a large man, very tall with broad shoulders. He had a full reddish bread that was clumped and matted with frozen blood and gore. All down the front of his tee shirt was the remnants of who knows how many human meals. Streaks of person covered him head to toe.

Charlie swung the 4 Iron as hard as he could like a baseball bat, aiming for the forehead of the dead man. The timing was off though. The huge bearded zombie raised his arm just enough to deflect the blow slightly, causing it to glance sharply off his head. The blade of the golf club took a divot right off the side of the zombie’s head, leaving a brownish patch of skull exposed. The patch of flesh flew twenty feet off into the snow, landing with a faint, wet thump. Charles wouldn't be replacing that divot.

Charlie lost his balance and stumbled forward, losing the golf club and hitting the zombie in the chest. The two of them tangled immediately and fell together onto the snow. The wife, daughter and son screamed and bolted towards the melee.

The father and zombie rolled around multiple times in the snow before the huge body of the dead man had Charles pinned in the freezing white fluff. The desperate father shoved both of his forearms into the neck and chest of the hulking dead man, pressing his desperate advances away. His beard, fetid and rancid hung directly into Charles’ face, leaving him gagging on the smell. The mouth of the bearded monster snapped shut over and over, trying to sever chunks of Charles’ flesh to no avail. 

Randy, shotgun in hand, made it to the struggle first. He aimed the double barrel shotgun right at the side of the zombie’s head and squeezed one of the triggers. With an ear splitting roar the bearded man’s head disintegrated, sending a shower of gore all over the father’s face. A cone shaped swath of human destruction went out on the snow from where the blast happened. Randy was sent backwards a few feet from the tremendous kick of the shotgun. Charles gasped up breathlessly under the zombie at his family, and they got the headless body off of him.

Lying in the snow they clutched each other, desperate to survive. Charles labored hard for a long time, but when he finally caught his breath, they started moving again. No one said a thing to each other.

*****

They made the turn up the hill onto Auburn Lake Road about an hour before the sun set. The family was shivering in the cold air and they knew they had to move fast to get to shelter, or to get to the school. It was already cold, after it got dark, it would be frigid. Shuffling through snow is exhausting. Trudging through snow on an empty stomach is nearly impossible. Doing the same while heading uphill is nearly insurmountable.

Patty was the first to suggest they find shelter. “Charles, we need to stop. I can’t go on. Next house, we need to stop.” She was out of breath and her face was nearly blue from the frigid winter air.

The family of four stopped, all panting. Secretly they were all thankful that someone had finally spoken up. Charles bent over, putting his hands on his knees. His chest heaved repeatedly until he caught his breath. “Yeah okay. Next house.”

And they started again. Much slower this time, but they knew their trip would be over soon. Abigail envisioned finding a home with a fireplace like theirs. They could eat some snow, curl up in front of a fire, and spend one last night together as a family before they got to the campus. She smiled as much as her face would allow. It felt to her as if it was nearly frozen solid. Her teeth hurt it was so cold. 

“Isn’t it weird how we haven’t seen any dead people?” Randy said in between deep breaths.

“A little yeah. But who knows. Maybe these people never made it home that day,” Charles replied as he grunted each step out, clearing the snow out of the way for his family. 

Abigail saw the truck first, and pointed it out, “Hey, that’s one of the school’s maintenance trucks on the side of the road there.” The family all saw the Ford truck parked on the side of the road. It took them a few minutes to reach it, but after Charles approached it with his double barrel shotgun, it was found to be free of danger. He peered through the driver’s side window and saw the keys hanging in the ignition.

“It’s got keys!” He yelled back to his family.

“Try and start it!” Patricia yelled back to him as they moved to the truck to rejoin Charles. The dad opened the door and maneuvered his way into the driver’s seat. The seat was cold on his ass, but he was thankful to be off his feet. Pulling his glove off Charles flexed his fingers, trying to force warm blood into the tip so he could even feel the key to turn it. After rubbing his hands together fast and blowing on them, he closed his eyes, crossed the fingers on his left hand, and turned the key with his right.

The huge truck coughed a few times, and roared to life. Everyone started yelling in celebration. The truck hiccupped a few times as the moisture in the fuel line worked its way out. They all piled into the single bench seat and sat there for a few minutes, waiting for the truck to warm up, and the heat to come to life. Charles noticed the fuel was very low, but he knew the school as only maybe 2 or 3 miles away.

“Let’s do this kids.” And they were off.

Charles pulled an ugly nine point turn in the road and started the truck off up the hill to the campus. Eventually the road leveled out and he slowed when Abigail warned him the bridge onto the campus was ahead. They all leaned forward on the seat as they rounded the final curve, exposing the giant 800 acre island that was Auburn Lake Preparatory Academy.

Dozens of buildings were spread out over hundreds of yards beyond the bridge. The bridge itself was obstructed by two large passenger vans, parked end to end in a V formation, blocking any vehicles from crossing.

“Smart.” Charles pointed at the vans. His family nodded their approval with him. “Well Abby, what now?”

Abby leaned even further over the dashboard and looked around at the expanse of the campus center. She saw the staff building she hid in that night so long ago, as well as the admissions building across the street. Beyond those buildings were half a dozen brick maintenance buildings as well as the school building and the cafeteria. The first car crash that started it all was still leaning against the school right where it happened in June. She shuddered at the flash of memory seeing the wreck gave her.

She peered further, searching the campus for more details. She saw the tops of the dorms, some far in the rear of the campus, visible only by their snow capped roofs. She looked to her left, down the campus street that started the big loop. Hall A was the closest dorm, and next to that was Hall E.

Abby’s eyes widened in amazement when she saw Hall E. Wordlessly she raised her finger and pointed at it. Her family leaned forward and looked at the building, failing to notice what had caught her interest.

“I don’t see anything moron,” Randy said.

With a smile, she replied, “merry Christmas shit for brains. There’s smoke coming out of the heating vents.”

And smoke meant a furnace, and a furnace meant heat, and heat meant warmth.

Abby would never again underestimate the value of being warm.

December 12
^th

Have you ever heard of the expression “bone cracking cold” Mr. Journal? The thermometer tells me it’s a pleasant 12 degrees Fahrenheit outside, and I can see the wind blowing the trees back and forth in the faint moonlight. I would hate to not have heat right now. When it gets this cold, people die even with heat.

How am I you ask? I am pretty Fucking A Mr. Journal. Huzzah for painkillers. I’m trying hard as hell to moderate my vikes so I don’t get dependant on them. I knew a few guys in the Army who got a little hooked on pain killers and it was hell for them to get clean. Last thing I need to do is take a few too many because I can’t deal with the pain and wind up getting addicted. I already have enough fucking problems without that. More shit going on than a one armed wall paper hanger.

Speaking of problems! My infection seems to have halted its forward progress. The ink lines I drew a few days ago are mostly gone, but enough of them are still there that I can see the redness hasn’t moved. The little red line is gone too. The pain has subsided dramatically as well, and that’s not just the vicodin talking. It’s really much better. Very fucking stiff, and it’s still difficult to get around, but we are miles away from where we were a few days ago. My right foot is almost all better. Being off my feet all day yesterday and today has done a world of good. There are a few ugly little bruises that are dark purple where the teeth got me, but as long as I don’t hit them on something it’s fine.

As you can imagine, it’s been a little slow around the homestead. I haven’t been outside since I got in on the 9th after my pharmacy shenanigans. I moved the recliner closer to the windows of the common room here in Hall E so I can see the campus grounds a little better. I’ve got a decent vantage point where I’m sitting to the front door, and as long as I’m not blacked out from the painkillers I think I’ve got it under control. I can easily shoot the .22 while sitting here so it should be all good.

I’ve been carefully tending my potted plants. Sheer thrill for you there. I put away all the food I got from the two houses I cleared before the farmhouse the other day. I beat off twice. Pretty sweet.

Oh I sorted those sports cards. Lots of really cool stuff. Nothing super duper old but a lot of great cards. I could definitely open my own card shop if the world suddenly rights itself. Like that’s happening.

So I am as bored as plywood Mr. Journal, and I have nothing but time on my hands. I think I’ve got an hour or two before the pain pill I’m about to take shitcans my ability to form crappy sentences, so I think I’ll tell you a little bit about myself. I haven’t talked much about myself lately, well actually I haven’t talked at all about myself. Lots of little mentions of things here and there, but no real stories, or information. It’s long overdue that you learn a little bit about me the person.

I shall remedy that! Slowly but surely. I also wanted to fill in the story about my second trip to Moore’s and the few weird things that happened between late June and mid September when I started the journal. Not a ton to talk about there, but enough to get a good entry in or two. With no new info coming in while I heal, I might as well tell you about older shit.

I grew up in a small town in the middle of nowhere near the east coast. Millions of people grow up in towns just like it all over the world. As a kid I hiked, fished, played a lot of sports with my brothers, and read profusely. I was the rare jock-nerd. I played football, specifically Tight End and Linebacker. I also played some baseball. I was a catcher. I got scouted for football but nothing ever came of it. My brother Caleb was offered basketball scholarships to several places but declined to go in the Marines instead. Always thought he was moron for that.

I had a little trouble with the ladies until I was a senior in high school. My mother was quite frankly a bitch to us kids, and I think I was scared of girls until I realized it. I’m still not sure what my mom’s issues were, but my brothers and I always thought that she was angry about marrying our dad because she was pregnant. I think she always felt like she missed out on something because of us kids. Whatever. She was snarky with us our whole childhoods and we resented her for it. We knew she loved us, but she took shit out on us a lot. Spiteful bitch, I think is the phrase. I think I was scared any girlfriend I fell in love with would either be just like her, or get scared off by her, so I avoided any kind of real relationship with girls.

Don’t get me wrong, I had some fun, but I was unable to take it seriously. I really feel bad now, years later about it. I misled a lot of young girls for selfish reasons and I can’t take it back or say sorry about it. I just hope they look back on their relationships with me as fondly as I look back on them myself. The ignorance of youth I suppose. I wish I was brave enough to be a more honest kid. Regret is a motherfucker.