Learning To Live (Zombie Overload Series) (22 page)

Oh
good lord!
Don't let
him
have amnesia, now.

I
desperately try to wake him, but he doesn't respond. Now I'm getting
scared!
Fine! Amnesia I can handle, just don't let him
die
!

As
I continue trying to wake Will, I hear a noise to the left of me. I
turn my head and see a man and woman at the end of the long dark
hallway.

Slowly,
they come toward us. I can't tell if they are among the living or the
undead. They don't seem to be rushing-in the way a zombie rushes,
anyway-and I can't hear any of the verbal sounds the zombies are
known for making.

"Hello?
Are you alright?" I call to them.

Jake
whips around when he hears me and rushes to my side.

The
odd, older couple keep coming, slowly.

"Jake?
What the hell?" I whisper to him.

"I
don't know. Let's get you and Will in that room over there right now,
just in case," he whispers back.

Not
wanting to bother trying to stand, I crawl as fast as I can into the
bedroom next to us. Jake grabs Will under the arms and quickly drags
him after me, never taking his eyes off the couple still making their
way down the hall.

Jake
lays Will down and walks back to the door.

"Jake,
no! Just stay here with us. Forget them! Shut the door. If they're
alive they'll open it by turning the damn knob...or knock...or
something
!"

I
desperately try to keep him inside. If something happens to Jake,
Will and I are screwed. Will is still out and I can't walk, but Jake
ignores me.

He
runs out the door, and the next thing I see, is his body being
slammed to the floor halfway back into the room. I finally see the
odd couple clearly.

The
man is hunched over like someone who has a back issue and is wearing
jeans, a plaid shirt, and suspenders. He has a hearing aid in one ear
and looks like he's in his eighties.

The
woman looks as though she's about the same age. She has a bowl
haircut, wearing a very old-lady looking dress, and has on thick
pop-bottle glasses.

They
both launch themselves on top of Jake. Definitely zombies! Jake, flat
on his back, lifts his leg, kicking the man in the face. His false
teeth fly out and clatter to the wooden floor in the hall. The man's
body follows his teeth, crumbling to the floor.

I
grab my gun and aim. Jake keeps lifting his head as he fights the old
lady, who is doing her damnedest to tear into his flesh. There is no
way I can get a clear shot.

"Jake!
Down!" I yell.

Jake
immediately drops his head to the floor and I take my shot. Right in
her nasty head.

The
old man is crab-walking back to Jake. Jake doesn't see him as he's
still trying to remove the woman's corpse from his body. The man
opens his toothless mouth and I consider letting him gum on him for
awhile just for revenge, but instead, I shoot...just as Jake sits up.

I
scream in horror at what I've done, but the zombie is still alive and
still heading for Jake. Taking another shot as I crawl toward Jake, I
kill the son-of-a-bitch for good.

Crawling
faster now, I make it to Jake's side and take a look out the hall. I
see more movement at the other end, this one making it well-known
that it's no longer among the living. Terror sends tremors through my
body but I force myself to focus.

I
lie on my back and use my good foot to shove at the woman. Once I get
her out the way of the door, I grab Jake and pull as hard as I can.
This shit is hard as hell to do when you're flat on your ass.

I
hear the grunts and growls of the zombie and then I'm
really
startled when I hear more than one.
And they're frikken close!

Once
I clear Jake's legs from the door, I roll him out of the way. Taking
my injured foot, which is the closest one to the door, I slam the
door shut. My screams of pain compete with the roars of the undead
now beating on the door.

Pushing
the pain back, I frantically search the room for something to block
the door with, and see a long, thick, wooden dresser against the wall
closest to the door. Crawling to the dresser, I think how damn hard
this is going to be one-footed.

I
try to push, pull, and punch it.
Ok, so the punching obviously
wasn't going to work, but I really needed to do that.

Finally,
I remember how I would move heavy furniture back home, when I had no
help available.

I
sit on my butt on the floor at the opposite end of the dresser and
push with my good foot. I have to keep doing one side, then the other
to make up for the worthless foot, but I get it there.
Damn!
This thing is really heavy!

Ok,
not much more I can do, now. Fortunately, these doors are the old,
thick wooden ones made back when they knew how to make doors.

I
hop over as fast as I can to Jake. When I turn him on to his side,
bile rises when I see all the blood on the floor where his head had
been. I leave him on his side and scoot on my butt back to the
dresser. I open the top drawer and find exactly what I was hoping to
find, a long scarf.

I
crawl back and wrap his head.
What the hell else can I do?
Not
a clue. Now we are basically stuck.
How
many damn zombies
are out there, anyway? Where the hell were they this whole time we've
been here? Why didn't Will and Jake find them when they searched the
house? And why didn't they come downstairs long ago when they heard
us? And you
know
they heard us!

Things
are just getting too weird.

So
I have two men who are out cold, but who are both-at least for
now-still alive. I'm in a frikken sheet and nothing else, none of us
have shoes on, and I can't walk.
Can this get any more perfect?

Crack!

Apparently
so!

I
watch the door frame in terror as the wood gives under the pressure
and the beatings. The dresser, although heavy for me, moves an inch
or two away from the door. Frantically, I look around the room and
see a couple other doors, but they are flimsy compared to the main
bedroom door, and look how long it's taking them to get through that
one!

There
is a window facing the front of the house, but what good is that
going to do me? How could I possibly get both men and myself out? And
where would we go after that? We would freeze to death with all of us
barely dressed.

I
bring my legs up and wrap my arms around them...and I cry.
It's
hopeless.
It's all over.
We're going to die.

But
before I can really get into the bawling, I get pissed instead.
Grabbing Jake under the arms, I scoot a little at a time, bringing
his body further from the door and closer to the far wall. I do the
same with Will, then desperately try once more to wake him, but he
doesn't respond. I put both of our guns in front of me and sit with
my back against the wall. And wait.

The
door frame is still cracking and tearing away from the wall. I lift
my gun and aim it at the door. I don't have long to wait before the
door finally breaks free and crashes into the dresser. Several hands
grab the door and throw it backwards into the hall.

I
count four of them on the other side of the dresser. Knowing I only
have a limited amount of bullets, I force myself to wait. I can't
afford to waste them.

They
push and scream, grunt, and fight each other to get to us first. One
end of the dresser is pushed out far enough for one at a time to get
through and I pray they leave it that way. The first one comes around
the dresser and staggers over to get some of the feast we represent
to them.

As
it nears, I aim at its head and shoot. It drops several feet away.
The second one is right behind and I shoot it down, too.

Damn it, I
wish I had counted bullets first!

I
take down the third one and the fourth is almost on us before I can
aim at him, but I get him. I don't see any more and the relief is
overwhelming.

I did it! I
saved us! I kept us alive!

My
relief is short-lived, however, when I hear heavy footsteps on the
wooden stairs.
Oh hell no! They can't climb! Please no! God no!

Suddenly,
a figure is filling the doorway. He's probably about 6' 4" or 6'
5" and around 230-250 pounds with brown hair and eyes. His body
size alone frightens the hell out of me. He's a zombie, but he just
doesn't look right, and even more, he looks oddly familiar.

Then
it hits me. This is the same zombie who saved my life back at Rose's
behind the barn.

Saved
my life or not, he still scares the hell out of me.
What do I do?

"Canada."
His voice is deep. Really,
really,
deep
and with a southern accent. I scream when he says my name.
Zombies
don't talk!
What the HELL!

"Do
me a favor, don't shoot me. I'm not going to hurt anyone. I'm going
to come in now, ok?" he asks.

My
mouth falls open and my eyes widen so far they hurt. This is
him!
This is the one back at the store with the deep southern voice.

So it took
me awhile. Bite me.

He
pushes the dresser further away from the wall, giving him the room he
needs to get through. I raise my gun with trembling hands when he
gets past it.

"Don't
come any closer! Just stay there," I demand.

He
stops and folds his large body to the floor. Sitting cross-legged, he
stares at me, apparently waiting for my next orders.

"Who
are you and how the hell do you know me?"
Those are just the
first questions.
I have more.
Many
more.

"My
name is Dustin. I know you because I saved your life, remember? And
then imagine my surprise and delight when you and your group showed
up at my store." He smiles at me and his face cracks and bends
where it shouldn't. I'm so mortified by his appearance, I almost
forget to respond.

"How
did you end up at my si―where I was when you saved my life?"

"I
have―
had
―a brother who lived a few miles past your
sister's place. I've met your sister and Kurt.
We
, you and I,
even met once before all this happened."

I
try to place the face I see before me with anyone I may have known or
met, but I can't do it.

Shaking
my head, I say, "I don't know you. I've never seen you before."

"Oh,
you have."

I
can't believe my eyes as he starts ripping his face off! I scream and
point my gun back at his head. He stops and lifts his hands up.

"Stop
screaming and put that damn gun down. I told you I'm not going to
hurt you."

Slowly,
an inch at a time, I lower the gun but keep it in my hand, ready to
raise it if I need to.

"Now,
just give me a minute. It's not as bad as it seems."

Pulling
your frikken face off
is
as bad as it seems, Mister!

But
I don't scream again, although I
do
whimper in fear.
Can't
help that.
Sorry.

I
watch as he peels layers of skin off his face-not because I want
to-but because I just can't look away. I eventually understand that
those pieces aren't his own and are being held on by some type of
glue.

When
he removes the last piece, I study his natural face for a few
moments, and then the recognition hits me.

"Dustin?
I
do
remember you, vaguely. You came over to Rose's once when
my family all got together for Fourth of July a few years ago. You
and your brother and his family watched fireworks with us. But why do
you have this...this...
stuff
all over you?"

"I
had always planned what I would do if zombies were to actually happen
and this is one thing I thought to try. I cut their skin off and put
it on myself. I never actually thought it would work, but it does. I
guess it's the smell or dead tissue or something. Not really all that
sure."

I'm
speechless for a few moments.

"Ok,
look, Dustin. A lot of people plan out zombie scenarios, me included.
But who the hell―
who
in their right mind!―
would
think of something like
that
?"

Dustin
laughs, then says, "Right mind or not, it's sure helped a lot of
people. You for one," he reminds me.

I
shake my head in disbelief.

"Dustin...hell,
I don't know what to say. It's just creepy as frikken hell. And
disgusting. But how have you managed to keep from getting shot by the
living who think you're a zombie?"

"Grace
of God, I guess. Usually, I only help those who have no weapons. In
your case, I took the chance since I knew you. Fortunately for me,
you let me walk away. Why is that, anyway?"