Summer Of 68: A Zombie Novel (15 page)

Pushing to her feet, Miss Marshall eventually wondered off.

Waiting until the coast was clear; the boys came out of hiding. They looked at one another without a word. This was the worst. Until now, the ghouls were nothing more than faceless creatures, where one lacked recognition from the others. It was a sickening thought that churned their innards—no one was exempt from the scourge. Not friends. Not family.

Sporadic gunfire marked their departure, screaming out a few blocks away. They hurried along, on a mission that would bring them full circle, back to the safety of home. They had to hurry. With luck, their mother was safe and sound, bunkered somewhere in the house and out of sight of the walking dead.

If they were lucky…

Chapter Eighteen

Coming off the main drag, the boys hit the corner and emerged onto Jackson Street. After a couple of yards, past a copse of greenery, the Sheriff’s station came into view. Their finish line was a one floor brick building, looking much like an unfinished castle of the medieval era. Outside, American flag flew, partially obscured by the smoky haze of the late afternoon and fluttered in the warm breeze. Jake and Russell approached the building with trepidation, as their eyes darted about, searching both for threats and help.

They staggered along, their tattered shoes scrapping the stone pathway as they quickened their pace. Tiny hearts thumped, legs throbbed and lungs burnt. They had pushed themselves beyond the brink of breaking themselves to pieces, but the sight and knowledge that they were so close and the end was in sight had filled the two with a renewed purpose. It obliterated their self-doubt and rendered their bodily pain obsolete.

Jake looked about. A couple of cars were parked outside, crooked from the curb. It was far from the amount he expected. Now that the world had gone to Hell, he thought that the Sheriff Station would’ve been a bustling hub of activity with the law locked in a head on confrontation with the dead—officers barking commands, gun’s blazing. They discovered nothing of the sort, save for a lone ghoul, dressed in a gore-ridden Police uniform. The corpse moved sluggishly along the far side of the street and was too far off to be considered an immediate threat.

A handful of bullet casings skidded under Russell’s shoe and with a tinny
echo, they drew the attention of the dead officer.

“I’m sorry,” Russell cried, realizing his error.

Jake shook his head, “It’s alright…We gotta get inside,” he said with a curt nod at the large double doors. Across the way, the corpse groaned gleefully and began its stiff legged journey in their direction. Soon, he would be a threat. Until then, they had a couple of minutes to figure out a way inside.

Jake made his way to the front entrance, “C’mon,” he said, “hurry up!”

Russell agreed without question.

At the door, Jake risked a glance back. The officer moved quicker than expected, stumbling foolishly across the lip of the curb. It fell with a groan, landing in a plot of bushes. The corpse hissed, recovering and lunged down the pathway. Jake shuddered, watching as the horrid beast moved with an agility that separated it from all the others.

Trembling hands griped the door handle as the zombie sprinted forward—hands outstretched, fingers slashing through the air. Soon enough, the objects of its attention were gone, locking themselves inside the building. Moments later, the corpse harpooned itself against the door, moaning feverishly with beating fists and smeared blood across its surface.

Raising from the milky depths, somewhere in the back of the officer’s decaying mind—a small, if not minute memory flashed through its neglected receptors.
A brief image, which soon faded back into the vast recess of nothing. It was a thought, a memory. The corpse reached out, gripping the doorknob tight and with stiff, clumsy fingers, pulled on it. The door opened a couple of feet and was yanked suddenly from its grasp, but before it closed, the creature caught wind of its prey and the supple aroma of flesh and blood.

This infuriated him, causing the officer to throw its head back and howl.
Without hesitation, it head-butted the door, popping its brow like a blister as it began to thrash its arms across its surface. Again and again it did this, never making headway.

***

Alone in the lobby, Jake and Russell held the door shut, each tugging on a section of the handle.

Based upon what they had seen, the boys never thought that the dead would be capable of opening doors, as they had yet to see one that couldn’t step over the curb without falling flat on its face. Reluctantly, they released the brass handle, realizing that the corpse was content to simply hit and batter the door, rather than open it. Still, its ability to do so didn’t calm their nerves. Jake and Russell stood in the relative safety of the lobby for another ten minutes, unable to turn their backs on the unwanted guest waiting outside.

Russell had just taken a seat in one of the chairs when Jake stepped away.

“Wait here,” Jake said.

“Where are you going?” Russell protested, shifting his weight to the edge of the seat, ready to leap up. 

Outside, the corpse growled, aggravated by the sound of their voices. The boys tensed, knowing the threat was present, and all too real.

“Nowhere far, stay where you are,” Jake replied, making his way towards the receptionist’s side of the lobby. Looking back and seeing his brother still watching, he felt the need to clarify his actions. “I’m gonna see if I can find something to hold the door shut.”

A loud knock echoed through the room as the corpse threw its weight against the door and began hitting it, once more. On impulse, Russell charged, pressing himself against it. Jake nodded, resisting the urge to join.

“If he opens it again, holler. Alright?”

Gritting his teeth, Russell nodded as he locked his knees, gaining purchase against the ground. “Just don’t take too long, okay?”
             

Jake hurried through the lobby, straight to a closed doorway that was located to the right of glass partition, which housed the receptionist and adjoining offices. He tried the door and felt defeat, as it wouldn’t budge. Placed beside the door, he discovered a small placard mounted to the wall:
PLEASE WAIT TO BE BUZZED IN.
He studied it, snapping his attention back to his brother, as the ousted ghoul began another barrage of noisy attacks. While it didn’t appear dangerous—just loud and persistent, Russell still held the door as tight as possible.

Jake turned to the partition and peered down at the desk, standing on the tip of his toes. The light beyond was hazy at best with the back half of room appearing as black as coal. Never one to be afraid of the dark, a shot of ice coursed through his veins. He swallowed his pride and gulped down his fear. He had to do it, because they couldn’t stay in the lobby forever.
 

There was a small rectangular window, which allowed contact between both worlds. Jake opened it as wide as he could and reached inside, blindly tracing his hand across the desk. It was no use. He readjusted himself—arching his neck and tilting his shoulders. He looked at Russell for a second time. They watched each other with a look of uncertainty.

“Don’t let them get me,” Jake whispered, picturing a ghoul lumbering from the shadows and taking his little fingers in its mouth. Brushing aside papers and folders, he found what he thought was a key. It was a small push-button, constructed into the surface of the desk. He reached for it, but it was gone. The pain caused by extending his arm was too much, causing him to slip back.

He took a moment, knowing what to look for. This time, he managed to caress its edge before exertion denied him. Frustrated
but not deterred, Jake jumped, banging his head against the glass. He was able to reach further through the window and this time, his palm hit the button square on.

A subtle buzz rang through the conjoining rooms, followed by the sound of the lock’s disengaging.

He smiled, rushing to the door and flung it open.

***

The lone zombie pounded fruitlessly away. Occasional thoughts or memories flashed between its eyes and before the damned soul could comprehend their meaning, they were gone, leaving him
with an unquenchable need to feed.             

A sound from behind drew his attention elsewhere… more of those, similar to himself made their way to the station, drawn by the racket he produced. The dead officer groaned—a welcoming gesture that the newcomers returned. With them by his side, the ghoul turned his attention back to the door and continued his assault. A couple of moments later, the others joined.

***

Moving cautiously down the hall, Jake heard his brother’s cries.

“Jake, there’s more!”

The thought of more drove him deeper into his pursuit. He ducked into the closest office and hurriedly yanked drawers from desks and papers from folders. Rifling through anything he could find, discarding their contents across the floor, and cultivating multiple
trash heaps along the way.

“Hurry, please!” Russell called amidst the rising barrage of fists.

In the back closet, he discovered a red toolbox amongst numerous bottles of chemicals and solvents. Popping the latch, Jake squealed in delight as he came across a length of rope, wrapped and knotted together.

Russell screamed, begging for his return. Before he did, Jake grabbed a small push broom from the back of the closet. Had it been a double door, he could’ve slid the broom the handles and secured it that way. Since it wasn’t, he would improvise. With the objects in hand, he doubled back to the lobby.

“How many ‘you think there are?” he asked, dropping to his knees. The rope and broom splayed out between them.

Russell eyed both objects, turning his focus back to his brother. “I don’t know,” he said. His voice contained a trace of hysteria. “It sounds like there’s a few—maybe four or five, but…” he trailed off, lost in the constant assault of pounding fists.

The door shook on its hinges.

Jake nodded, directing his attention to his newfound toys. Unraveling the rope, he tied it the center of the broom handle and gave it a hearty tug. Taking it in hand, he returned to the partition and through the tiny window, chucked it like a spear. It disappeared, swallowed by the darkness and wasn’t satisfied until he heard it hit with a soft thud.

Hand over fist, he pulled the rope, quickening his pace until the handle smacked horizontally across the glass with a suddenness that startled even him. From behind, Russell laughed. Embarrassed, Jake rushed the door, looping its slack between the handle and tied it as tight as he could.

“Good job,” Russell said, patting him across the back.

Jake smiled and turned away, taking pride in his cunning plan. When and if the ghouls opened the door, it would only budge an inch, if that. As time permitted, they were free to do as they pleased.

“What do we do now?”

Jake looked at his brother and smiled, “We explore.”

Chapter Nineteen

Amplified by the ever growing silence that engulfed the small town, the howls of the dead billowed from inoperative lungs until dozens of corpses stood gathered outside the Sheriff’s Station. The ghoul’s poked and prodded, slamming deadweight against the door. With the exception of the officer, they operated on a simple,
follow the leader
mentality.

Their cries swelled like an angry sea and acted as a crude beacon, demanding the attention of every last ghoul in the immediate area. In less than three minutes, they amassed sixty or so bodies, and their ranks spilling out and onto the adjacent street.

As the dead fought tooth and nail to gain entrance, Jake and Russell hurried from room to room. Since the building was small, their search was concluded in no time flat. They remained vigilant, leaving no stone unturned—all except for one—and found no one along the way.

Jake stood at the end of the hall, peering at the lone doorway. Behind him, Russell strolled along. Even at the back of the building, they could still hear the guttural cries. Their ghoulish choir reminded them that their time indoors was limited, and soon they would they would be forced to venture back into danger.

“What is it?” Russell asked.

“Read the sign,” Jake replied, cryptically. “It’s the jail.”

Notices and warnings were printed along the surface of the door. As he read them, Jake felt something inside him drop. A weight of nervousness careened towards his knees. He was brave when he needed to be, and in no way did he want to go in there. Since they discovered no one in the offices, he reckoned the cells would be empty, too. However, if anyone
was
there, they were there for a reason and not worth the risk. Still, there was a possibility that an officer could’ve been hiding out, overrode his distaste for the room.             

Russell cowered as Jake tugged open the door. His heart quickened, his breath came in ragged spurts. It wasn’t that he was scared. He was petrified of the monster’s lurking, not in the darkness, but within the cells.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Jake shook his head. “No,” he replied, allowing the door to swing open.

It opened up into another office. Inside the small room were a desk, a filing cabinet and a gun safe, and nothing more to occupy their minds. The small enclosure was dimly lit, the only light came from a lamp, which sat in corner of the desk. The light switch in the corner didn’t work, much to Jake’s displeasure.

An apparitional stared back at the boys from behind the desk.
With a gasp and a scream, it took all but a second for Jake to realize that they were looking at another glass partition, just like the one in the lobby.

“It’s our reflection,” Russell said.

Jake nodded. His cheeks hot with embarrassment.

They approached slowly, as the reflection mirrored their every move. Stopping at the desk, Jake reached out and touched the glass. Its warmth came from the glow of the neighboring lamp.

Russell rustled through one of the drawers.

“Don’t bother,” Jake said.

“Why?”

“Because there’s nothing in there we’ll need.”

Jake never averted his eyes from the darkness beyond. He knew what he was looking at and it was a painful thought, he could see the hurt in his reflection and the exhaustion of his brother. He wanted to leave, grab Russell and go but the fact is he wouldn’t allow it. Not until he knew what was hidden in the room beyond. Even if it was nothing, he needed to check.

He crawled onto the desk and pressed his face, squishing it against the glass. He struggled
and strained, and still couldn’t see a thing.

“Anything,” Russell asked, though the tone of his voice said that he already knew the answer.

Jake squinted and shook his
head, he could barely recognize the jail cells resting less than ten feet away.

“No,” he said and pulled himself from the window. His tiny hands left behind a smear of sweat and grime. He added, “Stay here,” and before he knew it, he was at the door leading to the cells. He was greeted by darkness, as the light from the office swept across the concrete floor, filtering out in varying shades of gray.

He walked down the aisle, down the center of the footpath. To his right was a brick wall, with a dozen cells springing up along the left hand side. Every couple of steps, his unease tripled. Fearful of being grabbed, he walked quickly, and kept his arms to himself.

Behind him, the waning light went from white, to gray, and then black. The light shifted, and sent his elongated shadow slithering up the wall, like a snake. He looked back and saw that Russell had taken the lamp from the desk and placed it on the floor as far as the cord would stretch. 

The relocation of the desk lamp provided more light, but not much. Its angle caused the shadows to slither, leaping out around him. He was about to tell him to move it back when something caught his attention. The sound was low and scurrying. He turned sharply—certain he had heard it, but what was it? Was it the rustle of fabric or the jingle of chains? It was so sudden and brief, that he couldn’t have been sure. 

Like a raccoon caught in garbage, he turned to Russell, his shoulders and neck stiff, locked into place and saw his little brother framed between the
doorway like a shadow.

“Get back here
right
now!” Russell hissed.

Jake turned to the darkness and stared it down, head on as the sound repeated itself once more. “Hello—whose there?” his voice was flat, shot down by the inky blackness, short of its destination.

The sound ceased, leaving nothing but than his ragged breath, ringing in his ears. Jake listened, but couldn’t hear it. His heart raced as he marched into the shadows.

“Is there anyone there?” he asked, every step removing him from the safety and comfort, birthed from the light. After a couple of steps, he heard it and this time there was no mistaking the sound—the uncomforting
clank
of metal and the muffled cry of a voice in distress.

Suddenly, it felt as though the entire room shifted, baring its weight upon his shoulders. The air chilled, suffocating and heavy. Jake pushed himself forward and felt like he was walking through water. Rather than pay mind to his feelings and leave, he pressed his back against the wall, inching his way closer to the sound.

“Hello?” Jake repeated, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Is anyone…there?”

He stopped. Through the darkness, he caught sight of something moving behind the bars, cowering in the corner of the cell.

From the doorway, Russell asked, “What is it, Jake? What do you see?”

Jake swatted his reply. “Shhh,” he said.

His muscles tensed as he stepped towards the cell. He thought of cold scaly hands springing out, gripping him by the throat. The thought was vivid and intense; he shook his head just to chase it away but the tendrils of which remained.

“Who are you?” he asked. Stepping to the bars, the person inside made no effort to respond. Jake frowned. “Are you hurt?”

“Are you stupid,” Russell called. “What if it’s one of them?” 

Jake bit his lip, wishing for nothing more than for his brother to shut up. He knew Russell wouldn’t leave it at that and knew that more would soon come from his brother’s smart mouth; he looked back to Russell’s backlit silhouette. “If it is, I ain’t scared. The dumb thing’s behind bars—what problem could it be?”

Russell bowed his head and said nothing.

With his head turned, Jake hadn’t seen the unknown figure stand upright in its corner. He uttered a sob when he looked back and saw that it now stood inches from the bars, towering over by a couple of feet. Its hands were bound before it by a pair of handcuffs, a reflective glimmer in the dingy light and had once been female. Her face, however, was unknown, concealed by a brown lunch bag and sealed by a bulging heap of electrical tape. Not long before, the woman was alive. Now, blood seeped and stained the front of her green dress, turning it a murky brown.

Her fingers clawed at the shackles, creating the metallic jingle, the same one that Jake had heard. She didn’t move her hands and left them down at her belly. It was as if she was aware of her handicap.

“Who is it?” Russell asked.

Jake was preoccupied by the jailed ghoul, and hadn’t heard Russell approach. Jake flinched. Russell wasn’t looking at him, rather the creature in the cell.

“I think…” Jake began, his voice tapered off. He took a breath and swallowed, before finding the strength to begin again. “I think it’s Jane…,” he said mournfully.

Russell nodded, “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

The boys had known her since they were young. The daughter of their mother’s friend, Jane would double as babysitter for Jake and Russell, from time to time. They enjoyed her company as she treated them like an equal, rather than children.

Russell began to cry, Jake followed not long after.

“Don’t get too close to that thing, boys.”

The boys screamed and jumped back, their backs hit the wall as the gravelly voice spoke. The sound of it excited Jane, causing her to moan for the first time since her discovery. She moved forward, slamming herself against the bars. The impact caused her to lose footing and fall back to the concrete floor.

Jake and Russell spun, a man stood silhouetted against the doorframe—the glowing ember of a cigarette etched against his featureless face. He slouched, but stood upright, grunting softly.

“She’s one of them,” he said. His voice tired and raw. “She’s a zombie.”

The two of them nodded.

“Everyone is,” Jake said, “this whole town is dead.”

“Not everyone,” the man replied. “They’re just dying.”

He stepped forward, his cigarette dangling from his lips. His movement was slow and sluggish.  “Please,” he said. “I’d feel a helluva lot better if you both stepped away before she gets the wrong idea…Just because she didn’t attack, it doesn’t mean she won’t get feisty.”

The boys nodded, doing as they were told. Through the darkness, Jake saw the shimmering reflection of a badge, a sheriff’s badge pinned to his chest. With a fluttering heart, he leapt forward, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist. He couldn’t control it any longer and began to cry. A strange mix of emotions tore through him as this whole nightmare came to an end.

Realizing who he was, Russell joined, wrapping himself around the Sheriff. His little body shook as he cried.

The Sheriff remained silent, though understanding. He patted them both on the head, rustling their hair and waited for them to get it out of their system.

“It’s alright,” he said, “it’s been hell for all of us…”

The tiny corridor was filled with the sound of crying and through it all, Jane quietly groaned.