Life Among The Dead (34 page)

“
That’s still useful.” Dan hates that so much of his supplies and items are useless.
Muzzleloader ammo. Useless. Spare magazine and box of ammo for my pistol. Useless.

“
I should have given Heather these.” Dan regrets. He doesn’t remember how many shots his wife has left with the 9mm. Dan sets the bullets in his useful pile.

“
You never know.” He says. The muzzleloader ammunition is tossed into the corner of the room. The water will have rendered the gunpowder inert; he decides it still might not be a smart idea to throw it into the fireplace.

Dan discovers an item is missing. He tears through every pocket in search of the thing. He is relieved when it is found crammed in the bottom corner of his pants pocket. He opens his little plastic locket. A large drop of water spits out of it and onto the floor. The picture of his wife is soaked and wrinkled.

“
Still beautiful.” He smiles, snapping the clamshell closed. He needs to get some sleep. He has been through a lot today and feels wiped out. Before turning in he decides to explore.

Dan ventures around the small space with a child’s curiosity, and not a stitch of clothing on. His body is feeling much better though, his nose is still running. He knows it will for a while. Since nobody is around to judge him he just wipes it with the back of his hand.

To the left of the dead man is a small table. Papers are littered on top of it. Each page is a list of random objects and next to each object is a number. Dan believes it to be an inventory, guessing the place is a salvage yard and not just a junkyard as he had first figured.

“
One man’s trash…” He says, peeling a post it off of the top of the heap of papers. Sloppy handwriting spells out a message he must have left for whoever may find him. The man’s suicide note simply reads
: I won’t be one of you!

Dan found it brave and commendable.
He killed himself rather than be eaten or turned.
Only one fault can be found in the logic.

“
Zombies can’t read.” Dan pushes papers aside and finds a gray metal cash box. Dan peeks inside finding it full of money. The bills are of various denominations and in no particular order.

“
Useless.” Dan says as he picks up something of true value by the till, a smaller box of ammunition for his new rifle.

The soldier takes his ammo and stalks to the far wall. He finds a small refrigerator like college kids have. This is the last thing to search in the place. On top of it is a dingy looking coffee pot that is half full and ice cold. Next to the coffeemaker is an overflowing ashtray and a pack of cigarettes.

“
My lucky day.” Dan says happily. He removes one and lights it immediately with a book of matches that had been slid into the cellophane wrapper. He stands there stark naked, puffing away. His eyes close as he takes in the caustic smoke.
I needed this.

The pack is palmed along with the ammo so Dan can have a free hand to open the fridge. All that’s inside is two candy bars.
It’s better than nothing,
Dan thinks. He is hungry and the beef jerky he had in his pockets is now a re-hydrated, inedible mush. The soldier stretches out by the fire enjoying his bounty of nougat and nicotine. He decides to save one of the bars for tomorrow, if he has the will power to leave it over night by the coffee, which he also plans on having in the morning. “Breakfast of champions.”

Dan’s moist flak jacket makes a decent pillow as he tries to drift off to sleep, finding it hard to let his guard down enough to slumber deeply. He is naked and his only companion is a corpse. The dogs continue to bark through the entire night.

After the day he has had, the downtime seems almost too good to be true, and rather unsettling. Paranoia makes him jump with every strange noise he hears. He gets up more than once to investigate. Thoughts of Heather and Vincent plagued him as well. He hopes they are all right as he desperately tries to get as much rest as possible. If he wants to be at his best tomorrow, he needs sleep.

2

The sun rises before Dan wants it to as dawn forces itself upon him. He is disorientated at first, not knowing where he is, or why he’s there. For a brief moment he wonders why he’s naked. Waking up in a strange place is always like this, he has the same momentary amnesia whenever he stays at a hotel.

Every muscle feels stiff and sore. His neck is barely mobile, causing his head to tilt to the right as he rises from the floor. Every movement he makes brings the discovery of a new ache. He doesn’t let the burning lactic acid and bruises stop him from starting his day. He has to try and catch up with Heather, or at least meet up with her in New Castle.

Dan wads up some newspaper and stokes the fire. He adds small pieces of wood to feed the starved flames. On top he lays a split log, facing the flat side up. He had saved this particular piece for the morning.

The small room seems bigger now that daylight shines in from its one window by the door. Dan’s bare feet plod to the refrigerator. He opens the small appliance and takes out the lone candy bar, thankful for his restraint the night before. He grabs the coffee carafe from the long cold heater and carries the two objects back to the fireplace.

The glass coffee pot is placed on the flat piece of wood that is now surrounded by flames. He prays the container doesn’t break while he heats up his morning beverage. A cigarette burns between his lips as he dresses.

His clothes are stiff and scratchy from the dried river water, but still warm from the makeshift drier. The warmth feels good on his sore muscles. His boots feel like beef jerky when he pulls them on. The tough leather is brittle as if it will fall apart in his hands. He knows they just need time to break in again.

Dan pockets some of his gear along with the lighter Heather had given him and the locket he always carries. He doubts he will ever need his keys again, but he takes them anyway. The straight razor is slid back into his boot. He is now used to the feel of it being there. The first time he stored it in his shoe it felt wrong and irritating, it not being there feels wrong now, as if something’s missing. It’s just reassuring.
Chalk it up to superstition,
he thinks.
I’m not dead, it must be lucky.

He slides his wallet into his back pocket. The ammo can wait until he is heading out the door. He knows what is next and he isn’t looking forward to it. His gaze moves to the dead man who kept him company last night. Dan needs to check him for the keys to the red truck outside. He pats the man’s pockets. Something in the guy’s left one jingles. He figures it is either the keys, or a whole lot of change. Along with the metallic discovery comes a shiver up his spine. Dan gets the willies again from touching the corpse.

“
Sorry.” He apologizes to the man who no longer cares. It puzzles him why this creeps him out, when yesterday he spent the entire day dealing with the dead.
That was different,
he told himself.
They were moving.

“
Like that’s any better.” His hand explores the man’s pocket and pulls out a key ring. A decoration hangs, affixed to the silver circle. It is a word spelled out with green letters: T-REX. Accompanying the word is five keys.

“
Thank you, T-Rex.” Dan says to the man with genuine sincerity. “I really appreciate it.”

Dan holds the keys in his left hand as he prepares to venture out into the salvage yard. He doesn’t expect any trouble out of the living dead, but he is weary of the dogs. He can hear them barking still. They looked enormous last night.

The sun blinds him. He has to let his impairment pass before taking his first step. A dusting of snow and frost covers everything. The air is a shock after spending so much time in the cozy shack. Dan can see his breath. He doesn’t mind the brisk air today compared to last night when he was much colder. He estimates that if he hadn’t found this place, he probably would have died.

The red truck is to his right, obscuring his view of the canines that wail and growl at the gate. He slowly walks around the front of the vehicle until he can see them. Three of the largest dogs Dan has ever seen in his life bellow through the fence and out to the street beyond. Dan can see the facades of buildings. They look like store fronts. One of the beasts turns its head to look at the intruder on their territory. It just snorts at him and resumes its angry growls directed at the town.

Dan finds the driver side door is unlocked, he slides into the seat. He keeps the door open as he attempts to fit one of the keys into the ignition. Three of the five look like car keys the others are too small. The last of the longer keys turns the engine over.

Dan has the attention of all three dogs as the truck roars to life. The engine idles and the dogs start to anxiously hop around. They don’t advance on him; they just keep an eye on the man who walks backwards to the building. The man in green keeps an eye on them in return.

Dan picks up the ammunition and takes the coffeepot from the fire. He takes a sip from the carafe’s spout. The liquid is just a bit hotter than lukewarm and quite bitter.
It’s better than nothing,
he supposes. He holds the once white handle of the pot with the same hand he holds the box of bullets and his candy bar. A look around the small room and he is satisfied that he has everything. It’s time to start his day.

The dogs have moved from their posts at the chain-linked fence. They stand to the sides now, watching as the stranger boards their master’s truck. The man is clumsily trying to juggle his items. The pot is placed on the roof and the bullets are tossed into the cab. He tries to sit inside with the gun that the dogs remember from numerous hunting excursions. The tall soldier struggles to move the seat back that had been positioned long ago by their shorter master.

Dan has himself situated. He has the coffee pot in his lap and a cigarette in his mouth. The rifle is pointed at the windshield while its butt rests on the seat next to him. He wants to be able to get it at a moment’s notice. Dan breaks off a piece of his breakfast and wonders how to get through the gate. From the truck he can see a heavy pad lock has it secured.

The ferocious Dobermans prance anxiously as Dan walks to the locked gate. They disregard him as a threat.
They just want to get out,
He realizes. One dog actually seems to be motioning with its head to that fact.

Out on the street Dan can see what has them so riled up. Zombies are shuffling on the sun bleached tar. Dozens of them are heading towards the junkyard. Dan figures they must have heard the engine and want to investigate.

The first of the smaller keys slides into the keyhole of the rusted old lock. Dan turns it and it clicks open. He tosses the mechanism to the ground and unlatches the latch. Before the soldier can open the sliding gate fully the dogs bound out, snarling nastily. They attack the closest dead they come to, taking the corpses to the ground and biting them. Their powerful paws hold the zombies down as their teeth tear into the flesh of the deceased citizens.

Morbid fascination forces Dan to watch the dogs go to work. They are pulling strips of meat away and gnawing through solid bone. One of the beasts has removed a zombie’s entire face; the undead woman is still active and trying to sit up.

Dan runs to the truck. Before pulling onto the street he takes the spare 9mm magazine from his pocket and sets it on the seat next to him, the bulge was getting annoying.

It looks like a nice small town. The storefronts are all reminiscent of an old fashioned style. No neon lights, just hand painted wooden signs that tell you which is the barbershop and which is the five and dime. Dan finds it quite charming, the kind of place where everyone knows each other’s name and people nod to one another as they pass. If not for the walking corpses, Dan can imagine living in a place like this. The dead are closing in on the truck; oblivious to the fact the dogs are tearing their compatriots to pieces.

“
How do you fucking like it?” Dan yells out his window as he cruises through town. He heads north according to the compass glued to his dashboard. He approaches a bakery and a large white building. A waist high wrought iron fence surrounds it enclosing a slight lawn. A sign reads: Town hall. Outside of it Dan sees a visitor’s information booth, just a small kiosk set on the sidewalk. It offers small brochures for people to take.

Dan pulls over and lets the engine idle. He takes the rifle as he exits the vehicle. He needs to know where he is if he is to make it to New Castle. A dead ex-police man is limping towards him as he tries to get his bearings. The zombie is wearing a cowboy hat, under the brim his ear is missing, and his neck is stained with blood.

As the soldier slides a folded leaflet from the plastic holder, he notices the corpse cop is slower than any zombie he has seen before.
All of this town’s dead are slow.
Dan is able to take careful aim before putting a bullet between the officer’s eyes. The cop has a .38 revolver in his hip holster that he is relieved of. On the other side of the police belt the soldier acquires two speed loaders.

Dan has to wipe his nose again as the cold air makes it run. He opens the gun and is shocked to see not a single round has been fired. The dead are all heading his way
. I couldn’t expect the dogs to get them all, now could I?
He asks himself. The zombies advance sluggishly as he retreats to the truck.

He wonders if it is the weather that’s making them slower.
The extreme cold from last night could have frozen their dead flesh? It certainly froze my hands.