Determined To Live (7 page)

My
phone starts playing "Payphone" over and over again, and
the tone of insistent incoming texts never stop. I shut my phone off
without looking at the messages and slip it into a pocket of my
fatigues. I force myself to forget my phone - forget everything and
everyone
.

My mind races as I
try to figure out where to go. I entertain the thought of just
killing myself, put a bullet in my own brain, but I quickly dismiss
it. I'm too much of a coward to do that. So I just drive and keep my
eyes open for a good place to hide out.

I
refuse
to let myself think about anything else.

About
anyone
else.

I
will
protect my family, even if I have to protect them from myself.

Twenty miles or so
outside of Hill City I see a driveway, and in the distance, a house.
I turn on the road that will take me to it, driving slow and keeping
my eyes open for undead - and now, the dangerous living.

"More
dangerous than you?"
my conscience asks me.

My body droops with
the realization that I
am
just as bad - if not worse - than those men in the truck were.
No,
I would never do anything close to what Grit did, but I'm damn sure
not a good person anymore. I made it possible for that man to be
attacked by the undead. I forced it to happen. And I don't feel at
all sorry that the woman got her revenge...or for any of the rest of
it.

Shaking my head and
refusing to listen to any more crap that my conscience might have to
say, I focus on my surroundings. I don't see any undead on the
property, so now I just have to worry about the house. I stop the
truck behind the house and just sit here, looking at the building.
It's not a two-story, but the house sits high enough from the ground
on cement that nothing can get in without using the stairs. Both the
front and back porches have about a dozen steps to reach the
platform, which makes me wonder if this house might be near water and
made to withstand minor flooding.

This is perfect!

Uh, well maybe
not.

Your foot is
broke you idiot! How are you going to get up those stairs?

Shut up! I'll
manage.

I've
stopped between the house and a large two-car garage -
which
will be great to hide the truck in
- and am now just staring at the windows of the house, looking for
any movement behind the curtains.

Nothing.

My heart rate has
picked up even more just by sitting here, than it has since I made
the decision to take off. The reality that I'm truly all on my own is
setting in...and I'm pretty sure it was a stupid thing to do now. I'm
afraid to call out or honk the horn, because I don't want to attract
any undead - or even the living - that might be in the area. But I'm
afraid to get out and get my ass shot by someone inside the house
too.

Damn, this
sucks.

I guess I better
just do this. I can't stay in the truck forever.

First things first,
I reload my gun with my last four bullets and flop over into the
backseat. My foot bangs on the door as I land, and even though it
makes me gasp in pain, it's not near as painful as it would have been
without a cast to protect it. Raising the backseat, I take inventory
of the weapons and ammo inside.

Except for a sniper
rifle with one bullet and an assortment of empty guns, there's
nothing in here!

No
ammo...for
anything
!

I take a few
minutes to control myself from curling on the floor of the truck,
throwing a tantrum like a child...but it's hard.

I drop in the seat,
feeling defeated, and look around outside again.

Still nothing.

But it's dark, so
what I see and what may be are two entirely different things. I lower
the window and listen hard for any sound the undead make...or any
other sound that shouldn't be here. Then I give myself fifteen
minutes to just wait, watch, and listen. I tell myself it's the smart
thing to do, but if I were honest, it's because I'm scared to death.

I mean, come on!
It's dark, there are zombies all over the world - or at least all
over this part of the world - and I'm
alone
.

Don't even think
about telling me you wouldn't be pissing yourself in fear too!

Speaking of
piss...damn I gotta go!

Sucking in as much
air as I can then slowly letting it out, I force courage I don't
feel, and open the door. When I get out and balance on my one good
foot, I look and listen again. Then I grab my crutches and ease the
door shut. It softly clicks as it latches, so it's not shut as
securely as it should be, but I hardly think I give a damn.

Slowly, I make my
way to the back porch, alert for any danger. Once I get to the steps
safely, I lift my crutches and push them onto the platform of the
porch. Then I turn around and ease myself down on the third step.

Like I did when I
was a kid, I push myself up backwards on the steps, butt bumping down
on each one. When my ass hits the platform, I sigh in relief.

Nothing undead
on the ground can get me up here!

But now to deal
with whatever or whoever is inside, if anyone or anything
is
.
I turn my body and grab hold of the top banister to pull myself up.
Bending down to pick up my crutches, I get them as comfortable as the
damn things
can
be, suck in a deep breath, and cross over to the door.

Do I knock, or
try the door handle and just go in?

I decide to knock.
A few moments after I do, I hear grunts and moans from the other
side, just before a flurry of activity at the window causes the
curtain to move and I see a woman.

You got it!

A damn zombie.

Groaning - and
kinda panicking because I really don't want the window broke - I pull
out a handgun and step back as I turn the knob and push the door open
the second she moves away. Of course, the bitch can't make this easy
as she hurls her body back against the door, slamming it shut in my
face.

Shit!

Now what?

Looking around the
porch, I get an idea. Crouching down so that she can't see me, I take
my crutch and tap on the window a few feet away. Just as I'd hoped,
she flies to that window and starts banging on the glass.

Oh, damn!

Didn't think
about that, now did ya, Canada?

Shit, bitch!
Don't break the window!

Realizing I have to
move fast, I pull my crutch back and rise to my good foot. I throw
the door open and wait for her to show herself.

And boy does
she!

She comes out the
door ready to eat. But she's still not as fast as the new zombies, so
I shoot her, and her body drops at my feet. I have to hop back a few
times to avoid her crashing into me, but it's all good. She's dead
and I'm safe. I look back up and into the house, making sure there
are no more about to attack, and then go to work getting her off the
porch.

Sure, I could
let her roll down the stairs, but I have to use those stairs, and I
really don't want to bump butts with
her
.
So I get on my knees and push her to the side of the porch, where I
shove her through the gap between the side rails and the porch
platform. She's not very big so she fits with plenty of room. I send
her flying off the edge and turn my head away so I don't have to
watch as she hits the ground. The sound is more than enough for me.

Crawling back to my
crutches and using the banister again for support, I stand and move
toward the door - which opens into a kitchen - and take a good look
around.

So out of place!

The room is
something you might see in a restaurant. High-tech, cold stainless
steel appliances, industrial-looking paint and floors. The lights are
all off in the house, except for the massive stove's light. I see the
light switch on the wall next to me and flick it up. The light makes
the kitchen even more cheerful.

Not!

Grunts and bangs
coming from the front of the house draws my attention. I roll my eyes
and go in search of the zombie, by-passing the two doors in the
kitchen, assuming anything undead will have raised one hell of a fit
by now.

I go through the
kitchen door into a beautiful dining room with hardwood floors, a
long shiny mahogany table, and beautiful mahogany chairs - all with
armrests and thick with red-velvet padding. The walls are a deep
cherry red.

Damn this room
is pretty! But like the kitchen, it just seems so out of place for
being in such a small home - which from the outside, looks almost
like a little country home...albeit one very high off the ground.
This is so stinkin'
odd
!

Another bang,
accompanied by a growl as the zombie seems to be impatient for its
food, pulls me away from admiring the room. I move toward another
open doorway into an entry/hallway. The front door is directly ahead
of me, and on each side of me are two more doorways. The one on the
left is an open arched doorway, but the one on the right has an
actual door on it, which most likely leads to a bedroom. I choose the
open doorway first and enter a living room.

All
white. Sofa, two recliners, very thick carpet, tables, walls,
everything
...white.

Ok. This tells
me that this home did
not
have kids living in it.

I
turn away from the living room and move toward the closed door across
the hall.
I know this
is where the zombie is,
have
known it since I got to this part of the house. I just don't know
what to do with the damn thing!

The door opens
inside the room and there's obviously no window in the hall to tap
on. I'm almost sure it's a man's grunts and groans coming from in
there, which is a little intimidating for me, being alone and all.

You dumbass!

Don't you think
you need to figure out how to deal with the big bad male zombies? You
ran off from people who would have had your back - people who would
have protected you and helped you when you needed it - no matter what
you've done. So stop being such a damn idiotic wimp and just take
care of it!

Ok.

Right.

So...how?

An idea comes to
me, and since I can't think of anything better, I go with it.
Crossing over to the front door, I open it, walk out on the deck, and
turn to my right. I stand beside the window - not in front of it -
and lean the crutches on the wall next to me. I've decided the only
option I really have is to shoot him through the window.
Maybe
I can find some way to board it up or block it later.

I hop in front of
the window, knock, then hop back a few times. Just as I get my
balance, the zombie is at the window, ripping the thin, white lace
curtain to shreds. When his fists bust the window, he pushes his head
through the glass shards still attached to the frame. I badly want to
look away as the glass easily sinks into his zombified face, and then
emerges from deep in his skin as he continues to push forward.

But I keep my eyes
on him, and as soon as I get a clear shot of his forehead, I pull the
trigger...and
miss
!
His body heavily drops out of the window and onto the porch only a
few feet from me. I move as fast as a person can hopping backwards,
and aim at his head again. I fire...and frikken miss
again
!

I'm beyond panic
now as he starts crawling toward me. I hop to my left, and just as I
get to where the railing ends and the stairs begin, he makes a lunge
for me. I jump back - and feel nothing but air beneath me.

I don't even have
time to think, "
Oh
shit!
" before I'm
banging and bouncing down the stairs. When I finally reach the
ground, I suck in great gulps of air as I try to get the air that was
slammed out of me back in. I look frantically around for my gun,
shocked to see it still in my hand.

I can't believe
it didn't go off during my very bad imitation of a Slinky.