Epidemic of the Undead: A Zombie Novel (18 page)

A shadowy figure leaped forward, startling both Chris and Stephanie, as it stepped toward her from the other side of the open door.

“You scared the crap out of me!” Stephanie held her hand to her chest. 

It was Jesse, the big guy with all of the tribal tattoos. He looked funny without the baby in his arms. Instead, he cradled a rifle of some kind and a small bottle of water. As he brought the bottle to his lips, he said, “Fuck me. What do you mean; I scared you? How’s about the other way around, little girl? About gave me a heart attack. What the hell are you doing up here anyway?”

“We just wanted to check out the roof,” Chris said, walking up the poorly lit steps.

Jesse dropped his water, bringing the rifle up to bear down on Chris in one swift and fluid motion. His big tribal covered biceps flexed as he gripped the gun. “Shit! Don’t startle me like that, kid. I didn’t even see you down there!”

Chris raised both hands in the air, meeting Stephanie and Jesse at the top step. “My bad, boss.” Chris chuckled. “You’re Jesse, right? I remember seeing you in the meeting. Didn’t you have a baby with you?”

“Yep,” Jesse frowned. “One of the other ladies watches her while I’m posted on watch. Not even my kid, believe it or not. When the shit went south, I was in my car headed to work. Tattoo artist. The radio was saying some crazy shit, as you know. Before I even made it to the shop, the area was swarming with those things. Figured, fuck the idea of going into work, and I stopped by the local grocery for some supplies before heading back to the house.” Jesse’s eyes glazed over with an odd expression.

Jesse continued to tell Chris and Stephanie how he managed to get out of the major area of downtown and to the school. Before he had time to get back to his car after going in for supplies, the grocery store had quickly turned into a feeding frenzy of chaos. In the middle of the brutal carnage, he heard a baby crying. Its mother or father must have tucked it away to hide her from the dead. Jesse had found it in its stroller behind the counter with the cigarettes. Had the baby not been crying like a banshee, he would have never found it. From what Chris could tell, Jesse felt bad about snatching up someone’s kid like that, but what else could he do? Everyone around him was dead or dying. In the end, Chris couldn’t blame him and he reassured the brute that he had done the right thing. Although Jesse looked rough around the edges, Chris could tell that the big man had a heart of gold, as most people like him did. Sometimes a rough appearance was just a protective layer over a too-big heart. 

“Personally,” Jesse continued. “I don’t think those things can get in here. This place is like a fortress. I think Father Clark and that Phillips fellow have us on watch mostly to lookout for friendlies.”

“You mean like the National Guard?” Chris asked.

“Yeah, that and just other survivors, I suppose. Honestly, I don’t think anybody’s coming. They said we have been getting messages from the military, but I think it’s just a ploy to keep everyone from freaking the fuck out.” Jesse shrugged. “Here, I’ll take you to the roof.”

“Wait, so you’re telling me you don’t think the National Guard is coming at all?” Chris’ eyes grew wide.

“You were there for the meeting. I have been here since day one, which wasn’t really that long ago when you think about it. What has it been, two, three days? Anyhow, they are talking like they got communications set up, but I don’t believe them one bit. I’ve been here since things hit and I haven’t seen or physically heard any messages myself.”

“Really?” Stephanie said. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to go off alarming you or anything. I’m just as stressed as the next guy, I suppose. So you wanted to check out the roof, right? The view is to die for, literally!” Jesse waved them through the large doorway and began to lead the way.     

The view was how Jesse had described it. He talked with them a bit longer before heading back downstairs to make his designated rounds. In that short time, Chris learned that Jesse loved to talk. He guessed that it must be the way of a tattoo artist. When you think about it, the profession does work best if you’re a people person. Jesse had laid out his life story so to speak. Divorced, no kids, three mortgages, and a two cats. He loved tattooing, but he wanted more than anything to get into real estate. He said that was what his old man had done before passing away.

“He was nice, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Stephanie agreed.

Overlooking the parking lot, Chris could easily see past the fence. Countless zombies lingered about in the streets and along the fence wanting desperately to get into the school. He could hear their moans and in a way, he felt sorry for them. He could tell that most all of them were no longer fresh. It was hard to make out from up high, but Chris could have sworn he could see flies buzzing around out there amongst the dead. It made him wonder if the bugs could get infected from feasting on the undead remains. It kind of freaked him out. The thought of getting sucked on by the same mosquito that feasted on one of the creatures out there just didn’t seem like a good mix at all. If that happened, there would be no protection anywhere.

The number of the undead made him feel uneasy. Just yesterday, there was only a hundred at best. Now, it looked to be more than a thousand. How many more would gather in a few days?  Although, the fence did look solid, he doubted it would hold up against a million of those things pressing against it. And Phillips was talking about going out and doing a supplies run, forget about it. There was no way they were getting out. Well, getting out would be easy. There was no way they would ever get back in after the fact.

If the National Guard is coming, they have to come in with a helicopter or something. The second those gates opened; this place would be a flood of carnage.
Chris looked on, his hands resting against the edge of the rooftop ledge. The sight was unbelievable. He didn’t like the idea of sticking around any longer than he had to.

Stephanie sighed and leaned in close to him, a cool breeze shifted in their direction.

“You know, I was thinking…” Chris hesitated. “I…”

“What is it, Chris?” Stephanie reached down and took his hand, looking him in the eyes. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Well…” He thought about his conversation with Nan at the gas station.
What if that old lady was wrong and I just end up messing up a good thing?
He breathed a deep sigh of frustration. “Well, I…I was just wondering. What are you going to do now? Do you have anybody that you want to get back to?”

“Like a boyfriend or something?”

“Ummm…well anyone really.” Chris said looking down at his shoes, his cheeks reddening. “You don’t have any other relatives in the area that you want to find? I was just thinking and wanted to know. Are you serious about helping me? I mean, helping Steve and me get back to Tennessee? It’s just that I really like having you around, I guess. I don’t know. I just feel like it’s my job to look after you and I…” he paused.
What the hell are you trying to say, man? Just spit it out!

“Yeah, I get it, Chris. I feel the same way. I really do.”

“Really?” Chris’ eyes lit up. He reached out, taking her into his arms with one big, long satisfying hug.

“We’re going to make it out of this, you know,” Stephanie said.

Chris reached up, touching her soft cheek and brushing some of her golden hair away from her mouth. He looked deep into her eyes and sighed.

Then, he kissed her.

Stephanie instantly pulled back, shocked. “I…uh…I think I’m going to go check on Steve.” Flustered and confused, Stephanie stepped away from Chris, briskly walking her way out of the awkward situation.

“Stephanie, wait…no…I’m sorry. I just thought that…shit.” It was too late. She was back inside and making her way downstairs.

Thanks a lot, Nan.

Frustrated, Chris stood on the rooftop alone, looking out onto a sea of the undead. If the dead outside made him want to get the hell out of town, then the awkwardness he just caused between him and the cutest girl he had ever seen, sure as hell made it a lot worse.

Chris just wanted to go home.

Chapter Nine

Chris ended up spending a good portion of the afternoon alone on the roof of the old building just looking out at the dead. Trying to comprehend what his future would and should be. Trying to figure out what had just happened with Stephanie. He needed to know if his earlier suspicions true. The fact that she might like Steve rather than him eat away at his head. Nan had seemed so wise when she had told him just to go for it.

Why do I feel so betrayed? Oh, God, I’m an ass, why can’t I figure this out?
Chris thought.

The festering undead creatures below all gathered in droves of matted and mangled heaps of rotting flesh. Beyond the fence line, their numbers grew over a thousand. With the age of the fence, it would have been no surprise if those things simply took it down with their sheer numbers. Chris watched as a small cluster of the dead had somehow gotten hold of a fleeing dog. It yelped in agony as the horde of ghouls ripped the poor animal to shreds and started gulping it down.

God, they eat like starving wolves,
Chris thought. Then he realized that wolves ate better, with more care.

As he watched, he saw more than a few ghouls bite off their own fingertips in their haste to get a bite of dog down their throats. Chris fought off the urge to vomit. Quite a ways down the road, one zombie seemed to be fighting with the door of a van. It was as if the creature was trying to get inside. Perhaps, the dead thing planned to drive off and go somewhere. Chris wondered if the undead monsters have any bit of memory left.
Is that creature trying to get into the van because he remembered something from before, or is it trying to get into the van, because something else was possibly trapped inside?
He thought of Mark and felt sick all over again. If it came to it and he had his chance to get back on the road, he sure as hell planned on dropping in at The Beanery by that venue. He owed it to Mark to end his suffering at least. Assuming the dead suffered in life. He wondered if they could actually feel themselves decomposing, or feel the wounds they bore. He didn’t want to think about Mark and these things, but it was hard not to. Looking out at the streets, his mind flooded with it, even when he tried to block it out. 

With the cool afternoon breeze kicking into high gear as the sun began to set, Chris wished like hell that he had, of all things, his banjo with him. As much as the cool air felt nice, it kind of made him feel sick. It wasn’t really just the stench that did it; at least, he didn’t think so. Maybe it was the feeling that came along with the stench. The wind blew reality over him. He couldn’t deny what was going on outside with that smell washing over him. He felt it in his throat. In a way, he just wanted to throw up. Maybe that would make the feeling go away. However, he knew better. Hopelessness wasn’t something you could just vomit out. For a second, he thought of Steve and was at least thankful that his best friend would be getting better. For Christ’s sake, he could have been killed. It wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Then again, perhaps Steve would have been better off bleeding to death. Just a few inches to the left would have done him in. Surely, death wasn’t the worst thing. In a way, Chris kind of felt like Steve should have died. At least then, the guy would have been released from this putrid hell.

Chris looked out at the clouds and the graying sky. Once more, he glanced down at the dead below. He sighed, rubbing his temple with one hand, and his other in his pocket fiddling with a banjo pick. If only he had something that he could play. That would at least make him feel normal for a few minutes. He thought of tour and some of the great shows that he and the guys had played. Reflecting on it, he found it odd that the shows he enjoyed the most were the ones that sucked. They just seemed to stick out as more memorable. You always met some crazy people at those.

The thought of Stephanie came to him.

He swallowed hard, feeling like he had really messed things up with her. Maybe it was just that he had moved to fast. He replayed the situation in its entirety. He felt like such and idiot. How romantic could one get?

First kiss, overlooking a horde of the living dead. Nice move, man… Nice!

Chris turned away from the undead mob below and leaned against the rooftop rail. With his back to the dead and his focus on the rooftop door ahead of him, he hoped that Stephanie would walk back through that door leading out to the roof and run straight into his arms. He knew better than to assume it would be that easy.

Just like that, the door kicked open. His heart skipped and he smiled for a second. It faded just as fast.

“Hey Chris. Stephanie told me that I could find you up here.”

“Hi, Father Clark. What’s going on with you, dude?” Chris’ disappointment echoed out in his voice.

“I just wanted to check on you. Haven’t seen you with any of the others all afternoon. Is there something on your mind?”

Chris turned away from the priest and looked down at the dead. “Seriously, Father? How could there not be anything on my mind. Look down there!”

They both stood overlooking the putrid scene for a moment in silence.

“So, how’s Steve holding up,” Chris asked. 

“He’s holding up just fine. Going to be sore for a while. But I hear that happens when you’ve been shot. Medication is low, as you know. No reason why he shouldn’t be up and moving about by tomorrow morning, I would think. But I’m no doctor. He honestly could move around now if he wanted to, but our resident nurses are being pretty hard on him. He did lose a lot of blood. The more rest the better. Praise Jesus that the bullet missed his heart or he’d be down for the count.”

“Cool, I’m glad he’s doing okay.” For a minute, Chris just looked down at the ground between him and Garcia, the roof’s cement and rubble under his feet. He couldn’t bring himself to look into Garcia’s eyes. He knew he would lose it. He needed to be strong for everyone, but he just couldn’t do it. He was losing it and he knew it. What was more hard on him than anything was forcing himself to be a warrior on the outside when there was nothing but questions on the inside.