Journal of the Undead (Book 1): Littleville Uprising (27 page)

“It’s the government!” Matt accused. “They’re keeping people in the dark to avoid widespread panic and mass hysteria.”

Kate listened patiently. She smiled, realizing that each generation has their own conspiracy theories. To a certain extent she understood Matt’s fears. It had been a shock for both him and Evan to find that all television and radio stations were completely gone even when they’d traveled so far away from Philadelphia. They had no way of knowing if the outbreak had spread nationwide, but the signs certainly pointed to a national pandemic.
For all we know,
Kate thought
, it could be global. Frank could be anywhere fighting these things
. Rather than give into the fear, it was easier to allow the kids to point a finger at the government than discuss the unlikelihood of actually reaching the cabin safely. Kate said a silent prayer that their venture would be successful as they continued on their trek.

They managed to reach Harrisburg without seeing another living soul. Evan drove cautiously through the state’s capital. Occasionally zombies wandered across their path, but other than that the streets were empty.

“The bridge will be our biggest challenge,” Evan explained. “There’s no way to avoid it. One way or another we have to cross the Susquehanna River.”

With trepidation he drove up to the Harvey Taylor Bridge. He wove cautiously through the abandoned vehicles but eventually the line of abandoned vehicles became too deep to push through.

“Well, it was nice while it lasted,” Matt sighed.

Reluctantly, they gave up their comfortable ride for the agility of their alternate mode of travel. Evan and Matt climbed into the back and began unloading their bicycles from the rack. Kate adjusted the seat of her husband’s bike and allowed Emma to continue using hers.

“Ok, I’ll take the lead,” Evan announced. “Lucy, you stay between Mom and Emma. Matt, you’ll bring up the rear.”

Matt and Emma exchanged knowing glances and laughed.

“What?” Evan asked suspiciously.

“That was awfully diplomatic of you,” Matt replied, still laughing. “It’s not like there’s much of a choice. You saw how badly I rode the other day. No matter what, I would definitely be bringing up the rear.”

Emma dug in her bag, pulled out a tube of aloe gel, and tossed it to Matt. Laughing, he kissed the bottle before tucking it safely into his pocket. Reaching his desired effect, the others laughed.

At least they’re in good spirits
, Kate thought. She hoped it would last. If they couldn’t find another vehicle along the way, it would be a long, agonizing trek; especially when they reached the mountains of West Virginia where cycling would be arduous.

They pedaled cautiously, weaving around the abandoned cars on the bridge. Kate learned the hard way that not all cars had been abandoned. As she rode past one cluster of cars, hungry zombies hurled their bodies against the windows. Startled, she squealed and nearly jumped out of her skin as monsters lunged at the fresh meat coasting by.

When they finally made it across the bridge, the open expanse of unfettered streets allowed them to pick up speed. No longer restricted by roadways, they cut through parking lots, lawns, schoolyards, and playgrounds to make up for lost time. It seemed that everywhere they went the harsh, guttural moans of their predators reverberated through the alleys and floated on the breeze.

“I figured it out,” Emma laughed. “That moaning … it’s like the crappy elevator music in expensive department stores: loud, annoying, and impossible to turn off.”

Even Evan, who had been so serious since they’d left Littleville, laughed. As the moans grew louder their laugher ended. Hidden behind an abandoned garbage truck, a mob of undead teens lurched into their path. Under heavy, glittery makeup and black clothes, the undead teens were rotting.

“Oh great,” Matt grumbled. “Now zombies sparkle too!”

Emma rolled her eyes at her twin but he was too busy targeting the glimmering ghouls to notice. Within minutes, the corpses were left to rot on the sidewalk, shimmering in the mid-day sun. Emma felt guilty for not taking the time to properly dispose of their bodies, but with dark clouds looming on the horizon, they needed to keep moving.

Though no one stated the obvious, they all noticed a direct correlation between the number of zombies and their proximity to the city. Hours passed as they pedaled on, leaving Harrisburg behind to face the unknown without the benefit of a vehicle. Emma noticed Matt had slowed considerably and was lagging far behind. Kate and Lucy tried to endure Evan’s rigorous pace without complaining but they were struggling too. Thankful she couldn’t see herself, Emma assumed she looked just as exhausted, but it was the dark, ominous clouds rolling in behind them that worried her most. Drawing on what was left of her strength, she pedaled hard to catch up with Evan.

“Hey,” Emma panted, trying to catch her breath, “I think maybe we should look for a place to spend the night.”

“Do you have any idea how far behind we are? We’ve lost so much time. We have to push on, Em.”

Her appeals were cut off with patronizing words of encouragement and warnings about not wasting valuable daylight. Each time she tried to speak, Evan interrupted with another motivational cliché. Frustrated, Emma cut her wheel hard, darting in front of Evan and forcing him to stop. Ignoring his glare, she grabbed Evan’s face and turned his head to make him look behind them.

“Yes, Emma, I can see they’re tired. I’m tired too but we have to keep moving.”

“Not them,
that
!” Emma said, pointing to the sky. “We need to find shelter, and soon.”

Deflated, Evan agreed. He’d hoped to stay ahead of the storm clouds but they were rolling in fast and dark. Surrounded by cornfields as far as the eye could see, their options were slim. When he caught up, Matt pointed to a large, red barn in the distance.

“Maybe we could sleep in that barn. The hayloft would probably be pretty safe,” he suggested.

Hiding in a barn far from civilization seemed like the perfect solution until they saw a farmhouse not more than one hundred yards from the barn. Trees had blocked the house from their view until they had nearly reached the front yard.

“So much for avoiding interaction with other people,” Matt sighed.

Emma insisted that they should just knock on the door. She saw no problem with asking if they could wait in the barn until the storm passed. A debate broke out over whether they should take their chances hiding out or if they should ask permission. As Evan and Matt argued over the finer points, Emma quietly slipped away. She climbed the steps to the porch and knocked on the front door.

“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying,” a gruff voice bellowed. An old man cracked the door and poked his head out. Eyeing Emma suspiciously, he asked, “Are you from Memorial Hospital?”

“Memorial Hospital? No, I’m not from any hospital. We’re looking for shelter. There’s some pretty nasty storm clouds rolling in and I don’t think it would be safe for us to keep riding.”

“Now what were they thinking, sending you on bicycles?” he wondered aloud. “Well, no matter, she’s staying put and that’s that. I told them that before; I wasn’t going to leave her there. I guess they don’t listen very well.”

The old man continued ranting about how no one respected the elderly, and how the government wanted to take away their benefits, as if medical care wasn’t already a joke. Emma listened patiently and waited for her chance to speak. As his monologue continued, Emma pieced together that he had taken his wife to the local hospital and he clearly didn’t care for the way they had been treated. Intrigued, she asked what happened at the hospital to make him so angry. No longer convinced that those ‘incompetent morons’ had sent Emma, he recounted the entire story. His wife, Iris, had gotten sick after spending a week watching their grandchildren. Their family doctor’s office was closed so they went to the emergency department at the nearest hospital.

“In walks this little Indian girl, looked about twelve, and says she’s the doctor! She looked even younger than you, little missy. She was all covered up from head to toe in that protective garb. Her accent was so thick you’d need a chainsaw to cut through it. She tells me I should leave my wife there because she has the flu. Ha! Why the hell would they want to admit her for the flu? I’ll tell you why, they’re after more money! Greedy bastards!”

The flu
. Emma didn’t like the sound of that. She asked a few questions about his wife; how high was her fever? Did she have any lacerations or marks on her body? Had any of the grandchildren been sick?

“I thought you said you weren’t from the hospital,” the man accused. “You’re sure asking lots of doctorly questions.”

Emma did her best to reassure him that she had not been sent from any hospital and told him that she was only a curious high school student out on a bike ride for a school project. It seemed too risky to say they were fleeing from a zombie invasion so it seemed better to lie. With trepidation, she asked if they could stay in his barn until the storm passed, but he refused. She dreaded telling the others that she had failed. Just then, a dreadful groaning came from inside the house. Emma cringed, wishing she had brought her rifle along. The old man turned and disappeared into his home. Accepting defeat, Emma turned away to join the others.

“Hey now,” a gruff voice called after her. “Where are you running off to?”

Sprinting back to the porch, Emma crossed her fingers and hoped for good news. Sheepishly, the old man apologized for being so dour. He introduced himself as Carl Jacobson and explained that his dear wife, Iris, had been good enough to remind him of his manners.

“I’m afraid we don’t have enough room for you kids to stay in the house,” Carl said. “But at least I can give you a hot meal. While you folks get settled into the barn, I’ll get the food ready.”

“That’s very kind of you but we don’t want to be any trouble. We just appreciate having a roof over our heads.”

“Now, now, it’s no trouble at all,” argued Carl. “The ladies from church made us a whole mess of food when Iris got sick. We’ll never eat it all and it would be a sin to let it go to waste.”

Emma cheerfully agreed and ran back to tell the others. The boys quickly forgot their frustration over Emma wandering off yet again the moment they heard ‘hot meal.’

“It’s kind of a relief to know we have permission to stay here,” Evan admitted.

The loft provided more protection than they’d expected. Once everyone was up, they could easily retract the ladder to prevent further access. They’d hauled their belongings up to the hayloft just as the rain began to fall. Ignoring the precipitation, Emma volunteered to go back for the food. As she ran across the yard, her stomach grumbled in anticipation. Carl had bagged up a huge container of homemade chicken and dumplings, green beans, dinner rolls, and an entire apple pie. When Emma insisted that it was too much, Carl brought her into the kitchen to show her how much was still left over.

“My wife started a committee at our church. They provide food to members in need. Whether you’re sick, recovering from surgery, if you just gave birth, or you’re down on your luck, my wife and her friends provide hearty, nutritious meals to help out. For the past thirty years, my wife had been cooking for this community and they were more than anxious to give back.”

The Jacobsons’ kitchen counter was laden with pies, cookies, and homemade breads. In the refrigerator, they had casseroles, stews, soups, and roasts. The good Christian women of their congregation had lovingly prepared all of it. Carl admitted that since his wife became ill, his appetite had diminished and poor Iris could barely swallow. Emma couldn’t help but ask if Iris would have been better off at the hospital. Carl sighed deeply and shook his head.

“She made me promise. Iris knows she’s dying and she wants to spend her last days at home. She said she’s made her peace with God and she’s ready for Him to take her. She wants to stay here and she wants to be buried under our sweetheart tree when the time comes.”

Carl picked up a tarnished silver frame and handed it to Emma. It was their wedding picture. Carl and Iris Jacobson had been married almost sixty years and had known each other since childhood. Reminiscing, he told Emma that the farm had been his father’s, and his grandfather’s before him. When he was fifteen, Carl knew Iris would one day be his bride. At seventeen, he carved a heart with their initials in the huge oak tree behind the house.

“Our first kiss was under that tree and once I had carved in our initials in it, she called it our sweetheart tree. We said our wedding vows in that same spot. We’ve always planned to be buried side by side under that tree.”

Carl’s eyes grew weepy and he shooed Emma off to go eat before the food got cold. As she splashed through the soggy yard, Carl called out to her.

“In the morning, you kids come on down for a good country breakfast. You’ll need some fuel in your bellies before you leave!”

Emma promised they would and waved goodnight before ducking inside the barn. The worst of the downpour was over and the steady pitter-patter of the rain made soothing dinner music. They all dug in and hungrily savored each warm, comforting bite.

As they ate, Emma thought about what Carl had told her. He was only fifteen when he found the love of his life. She and Evan were both older than that. She couldn’t help but imagine that they too could share their lives.
Till death do us part
, Emma thought and wondered just how long that would be.