Survival Instinct: A Zombie Novel (50 page)

* * *

Walter poked his head out from the gate first and checked that the streets were clear.  When he saw that they were, he waved the others forward.  They hurried quickly out of Mrs. Walsh’s yard and down the sidewalk to Kara’s.  Kara looked back again and saw someone running like a lunatic toward the house with the alarm going off.  The alarm could still faintly be heard from as far as they were.

They reached the Taggart house gates and Kara punched in the code to unlock the person-sized door within them.  She hurried through first and made sure the coast was clear, brandishing her cane like a sword.  Alice and the dog
followed her, then Walter closed the gate behind them and locked it.  Kara had never been so relieved to be home.  A weight felt like it had been lifted off her shoulders the moment the gate closed.  She strode across her lawn, next to the doublewide driveway with confidence.

“This is your house?” Alice gasped.

Kara looked back to see the girl craning her head up to look at the top.  The house was three stories with a high peaked attic.  The walls were made of grey stone and the windows and doors were framed with a dark wood that matched the colour of the shingles.

“It’s like a castle!” Alice’s face lit up with delight.  That smile made Kara feel surprisingly warm after what had happened, but she blamed it on the sun.  That
fireball in the sky had been relentless all day.

“How about we go inside and get you something to drink?”  Walter placed his hand on the girl’s shoulder and directed her to the front door.  Their feet crunched on the driveway’s gravel surface.

Kara stayed outside a moment longer.  She looked at her own modest garden which she hired someone to tend, her two cars, a silver BMW M3 Sedan and a tan Jeep Wrangler, parked side by side, her small fountain that the driveway circled, depicting dolphins at play, and her security system of several cameras placed around the grounds, as well as motion detectors at the doors, and sensors in the window glass.  For as rich as she was, she considered it rather modest.  She actually owned her own island as a vacation spot but she liked living here just outside the city her father helped to build.  The grounds weren’t that expansive and the reason her home was tall was to save space in other directions.

She went inside, took off her shoes, and placed them on a rack.  She had several different pairs of shoes, but never more than one pair of any kind.  Alice’s small shoes were sitting next to the rack.  It had been a long time since a pair that size had been in her house.  The last had probably been from one of her cousin’s children, now grown, who had been dragged to a party Kara held once a year.  After a brief moment of reminiscing, she placed her cane in an umbrella stand and put her purse on a small table.  Kara headed across the hardwood floors to her kitchen.  This was the one room in the house she didn’t personally design; she had left it up to her part-time chef.  Most of her food she made herself.  Walter would cook sometimes, but whenever she had company over, Francois was called in.  Just about everything was stainless steel with marble counter tops.  Alice and Walter sat at the one little wooden table off in a corner.  Alice was drinking a large glass of water while Walter made sandwiches.  Shoes sat at Alice’s feet looking up at her.

“Do we have anything to feed the dog?” Kara asked her servant.

“He doesn’t eat until night time,” Alice informed her.

“I’ll just get him some water then.”  She took out a large mixing bowl and filled it with water, then placed it near the dog.  He looked up at Kara, his eyes peering out at her from the flesh that sagged around them, then drank a few laps and lay down.

“What kind of sandwich would you like?” Walter asked Kara.

“I’ll make my own.”  Kara first went over to a first aid kit kept in the kitchen.  She rinsed the cut on her hand and then coated it with a clear, liquid Band-Aid.  She would tell Walter to tend to his wound after he’d eaten.  The fridge was her next stop where she found some leftover chicken.

“I’m having peanut butter and jelly,” Alice informed her.

Kara reheated a few slices of chicken and put them on some rye bread with Mayo.  She sat down with the others.

“I had a milkshake at day-care,” Alice told them.  “Mrs. Lou let us put whatever we wanted in it.  It was really yummy.”

“Maybe later tonight we can make some more,” Walter suggested.

“And then my Daddy can try some!”  Alice seemed to like this idea.

Kara had no idea how she was going to get in touch with Alice’s dad.  “So your dad is a police officer?”

“Yup, he protects people,” Alice nodded and took a big bite out of her sandwich.  She got grape jelly all over her face but didn’t seem to notice.

“What’s his name?”  Kara took a more modest bite from her own sandwich and was careful not to slop.

“Sam Carter,” Alice told her.

“Well, when we’re done eating, I’ll try to contact him.  Here.”  Kara handed her a napkin.  “You got jelly all over your face.”

Alice took the napkin and wiped her face haphazardly.  She only wiped off some of it and the next chomp she took brought it all back.

Mrs. McGraw, Kara’s live-in maid, hurried into the kitchen then.  “Ms. Taggart, I’m so glad you’re home.  Something is wrong with Phillip.”  Phillip was Mr. McGraw, her husband and Kara’s groundskeeper.

Kara rose from her seat and shoved the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth.  Walter half rose as if to follow, but Kara held out a hand and stopped him.

“Stay with our guest,” Kara ordered after she swallowed.

The panicked Mrs. McGraw gave Alice and Shoes only the briefest of glances before hurrying out of the room.  Kara followed her through the house to the stairs.  They went up to the third floor where the McGraws and Walter lived.  They both had their own suite of rooms on either side of the house.  Mrs. McGraw led Kara to her bedroom where Phillip was lying on their bed.  The man was only a few years older than Kara but he currently looked like he could pass for 90.  His face was pale and sunken.  He and the sheets were soaked through with sweat.

“His temperature is much too high.”  Mrs. McGraw hurried to his side.  When she took his hand, he feebly tried to hold onto it.  “I tried to call an ambulance but there was only a busy signal.”

Kara picked up the digital thermometer and put it in Phillip’s ear.  When she checked his temperature, it read 109.  “This thing must be broken.”  Kara put it aside with a frown.  Sometimes she hated technology; it always seemed to break.

“I thought so too,” Mrs. McGraw explained. “So I found an old mercury thermometer we had and tried that.  It gave the same results.”

Kara frowned.  He should be dead with a temperature like that.

Mrs. McGraw leaned over and kissed her husband’s forehead.  “You’ll be all right, dear,” she whispered in his ear.  “You can fight through this.  You’ve survived worse.”

Kara wasn’t sure what Mrs. McGraw was talking about
, but stood silently over them.  After a moment, she went over to the window and looked out upon the world.  In the house across the street, a red stain ruined a nice pair of thin white curtains.  A block over, a car sat abandoned in the middle of the street.  Somewhere in the distance, something large was on fire and sending up a massive black cloud.  She turned away from the window and went back to standing over the McGraws.

Phillip looked at his wife through fever-stricken eyes.  Kara could see the love in them.  She had never known love like that, but still she knew it when she saw it.  His breathing was ragged and every breath sounded like a struggle.  Kara picked up the bedside phone and tried calling 911 again but it was the same as before.  All she could do was stand over the McGraws and watch.  Phillip took several more wheezing breaths, looking into his wife’s eyes.  Suddenly
, he took one deep breath that sounded clear and healthy.  He turned his head to look at the ceiling and let it out in a long sigh.  His chest didn’t rise again.

“Phillip?”  Mrs. McGraw stroked her husband’s head.  “Phillip?  Dear?”  She shook him lightly.  “Phillip, no.  No, now is not the time.  It’s too soon
dear. I’m not ready.  I’m not strong enough for this.  Phillip?  You can’t leave me here alone.”

Kara stepped forward and placed a hand on Mrs. McGraw’s shoulder.  It was the only thing she could think to do.

Mrs. McGraw ran her hand over her husband’s hair again, paying no attention to Kara.  She kissed him on his forehead, then on the cheek.  “Oh, Phillip.”  With tears spilling out of her eyes, she closed his and lay her head down on his chest.

It shocked them both when Phillip began to shake and convulse.

“Phillip!” Mrs. McGraw cried out.  “Phillip!  Are you still with me, dear?  Phillip?”

Phillip stopped shaking and lay there.  His eyes had popped open again, and his face was slack-jawed.

“Phillip?”  Mrs. McGraw leaned over her husband’s face, looking into his eyes.

From where Kara stood, she saw the sudden quickness in Phillip’s eyes as they locked onto his wife.  His arms rose with a startling speed and wrapped around Mrs. McGraw.  He pulled her to him, but not in a loving embrace.  An eerie sound escaped his mouth just before his teeth sank into his wife’s flesh.

Mrs. McGraw screamed, “Phillip!  Phillip stop!  You’re hurting me, Phillip!”

Kara stepped forward and tried to pull Mrs. McGraw away from her husband.  He had latched on tight though.  Mrs. McGraw, a rather robust woman, managed to pull upright
; Phillip, thin as a twig, clung to her, rising as well.  Her screams no longer had words.

Kara grabbed the homey bedside lamp.  She raised it over her head, ripping the cord out of the wall, and smashed it on Phillip’s skull.  His jaws unlocked and he turned toward Kara, releasing his wife of nearly fifty years.  He reached for her, but Kara raised her leg and kicked him hard in the forehead.  Those Tai Kwon Do classes paid off.  She grabbed Mrs. McGraw and dragged her toward the door.  Phillip tried to pursue
, but he got tangled up in the bed sheets and fell to the floor.  He managed to get up and run at them, but Kara slammed the door in his face.  He turned the knob though and Kara had to grip the outer handle with both hands to keep him in.

“Phillip,” Mrs. McGraw gargled.  Blood flowed freely from a wound at the base of her neck and up out of her mouth.  “I need you Phillip.”  She got to her knees and pawed at the door.  This made it harder for Kara to hold it closed against him.

“Mrs. McGraw!” Kara shouted at her.  “Beatrice!  You must stop this!  Phillip is out of his mind, he’s trying to hurt us!”

“Phillip!”  Mrs. McGraw let out a gargled cry and pressed on the door harder.

Kara couldn’t fight both of them.  She let go and got back as fast as she could.  The door flew open and Phillip leapt upon his wife.  She screamed again but this one was cut short.  Kara ran for the stairs and flew down them.

* * *

Kara ran into Alice and Walter at the bottom of the staircase.

“What’s going on?  We heard screams.”  Walter was worried.

“It’s Mr. McGraw.  He’s attacking Mrs. McGraw,” was all Kara would offer as an explanation.

“What?”  Walter had to hurry to keep up with Kara as she ran back to the kitchen.

She knew exactly what she wanted when she got there.  A knife block, with the sharpest knives in the house, sat on a counter.  She picked out the largest chef’s knife from the block.  She then ran back out into the main hall, a confused Alice and Walter tailing behind her.  The table she had put her purse on had a small drawer, which she ripped open.  Inside was a miscellaneous collection of useful things like pens, notepads, string, batteries, and tape.  She grabbed a large roll of duct tape, not bothering to close the drawer again.  A loud banging sounded from higher up in the house and all three stopped to look up.  Shoes suddenly appeared; Kara hadn’t noticed he was absent.  He lay down next to Alice and woofed at the stairs.  This confirmed Kara’s suspicion that whatever had happened to Phillip was what happened to the other people.

“Go hide under the stairs,” Kara urgently whispered.

Alice quickly obeyed, bringing Shoes with her.

Walter stood his ground.  “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking him out.”  Kara pulled her cane out of the umbrella stand.  She held the chef’s knife tightly to the end of it and started using a hefty amount of duct tape to attach the two.

“You’re going to kill him?” Walter frowned.  “This is Phillip we’re talking about.  He’s been in your service longer than I have.”

“He’s already gone.”  Kara shoved him toward the stairs.  “And you’re right; he has worked for me for a very long time, just as his father worked for mine.  He will understand what I have to do.”

Walter continued to frown at Kara.

“Don’t make me use this on you,” Kara mocked a threat.

“Let me do it.”  Walter held out his hand.

“No.  It has to be me.”  Kara didn’t think Walter would be
able
to do it.  “Besides, the girl likes you more.  She’ll want you with her.”

Walter looked behind him and saw Alice peering out at them from around the stairs.  He turned and frowned at Kara one last time before running off to hide with Alice.

Kara looked up at the ceiling once more.  The banging of running feet descended the stairs.  She placed herself in the doorway to the living room.  She could navigate the room in the dark so if she was forced to back up, she’d know where she could and couldn’t step.  She braced herself, with her makeshift spear pointed forward.  It would have been better if it was longer but she didn’t have time to rip down a curtain rod.