The Dead Divide Us (Book 1) (9 page)

“I didn’t. Eddie got it for me,” Paul replied.

“Eddie, how did you know we had a gun?” Ruth asked, shocked.

He looked down toward the floor, watching his own feet very closely.

“Eddie come on, your mom asked you a question. This is serious. How did you know we kept a gun in our closet?” Paul repeated.

“I dunno. I just found it one day. You were at work and Mommy was in the kitchen. I went through your closet. No reason really,” Eddie stated in a small voice.

“And you found our gun?” Paul then asked.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you ask us about it?” Ruth inquired.

“Listen, you guys shouldn’t be mad. I would never shoot a gun at someone or anything. I just liked looking at it once in a while,” Eddie said, trying to make things better.

“
Once in a while?
Eddie how often would you do play with this gun?” Paul asked, shocked.

“I wasn’t playing with it; I know it’s dangerous!” Eddie said back, his eight year old face filled with indignation at his father’s accusation.

“Exactly, this isn’t a toy! You could kill yourself if you aren’t careful with one of these.” Paul added.

There was a silence in the room. In that silence the need for sleep overrode the gravity of the conversation and seemed to sweep over the entire family.

“Listen, it’s way too late. Things are happening. And we need our sleep.” Paul said as he stood up. He walked over to Shawn’s dresser and placed the handgun on top of it.

“Eddie and Shawn I’m sorry we kept this gun a secret from you. It might have been better if we had just come out and told you we had one in the house. That way, Eddie, you might not have been so curious of it when you found it. Honey, do you agree?” Paul said calmly.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t have kept it a secret.” Ruth replied.

“I’m sorry, Mom and Dad.” Eddie said in that voice only an apologetic child could make.

Paul grabbed another handful of tissues from Shawn’s dresser. Looking in the mirror above the dresser, he cleaned the small cut on his forehead the best he could; all the while thinking of the possible danger he and Ruth had put their children in by not teaching them about gun safety.

“Let’s get some sleep, please.” Paul said as he walked over to the bedroom door and closed it.

“What are you doing?” Ruth asked.

“We’re all sleeping in here tonight. Think of it as a campout. You and Shawn take the bed; I think Eddie and I can manage on the floor.” Paul said knowing it would comfort his family to stay together.

“Cool, a campout!” Shawn said cheerily; secretly happy that he wasn’t going to have to sleep alone.

Paul went to the closet, put the pesky wrestling doll away, and rummaged around until he found two sleeping bags. Both were small but he would make do with his.

With his family safe and secure, collected in one room, Paul finally felt content as he flicked the lights off. He was almost positive that everyone was already sleeping when he lay down on his sleeping bag.

Slumber came to Paul quickly, his head wrapped in a nonexistent cloth soaked in warm water. The top of his head hummed and tingled with deep sleep approaching.

Soon daylight would approach.

Daylight that would prove unwelcome in so many ways.

Chapter 5: A Fox in the Hen House

1

“Shit!” Robert yelled.

“What happened?” Jan asked, halfway through shoving another large pinch of chewing tobacco into his bottom lip.

“The fucking call just got dropped. Paul was saying something important, goddamn!” Robert said, frustrated as he snapped his cell phone shut.

“Call him back.” Jan said, stating the obvious.

“I can’t, there is no reception here at all. Was perfect a minute ago!” Robert said as he dejectedly tossed the cell phone onto the driver’s seat of the Bronco.

“Come on Robert, we
are
out in the sticks. I’m surprised the connection lasted as long as it did.” Jan said, adding a solid spit of brown chew juice to the fresh snow on the ground.

They were still on the side road in the forest and standing next to Robert’s rusty old Bronco. . Robert looked up through the arms of the trees that made this forest whole. The sky was a heavy gray as large pristine snowflakes poured out of its lusciously robust clouds. So much snow in fact that more than enough was finding its way through the thick trees and onto the forest floor. Had it been any other day, Robert would have appreciated the beauty of the postcard like scenery before them.

Robert tried to think back on the day before,
had he seen the weather forecast? Were they called for snow? A snow storm? Blizzard?
It certainly seemed like a storm had already befallen the small mining town of Colton; one that also had its grip on the entire eastern seaboard.

“Alright, let’s just go to my parents’ farm. We can use their phone.” Robert said

“A landline, I’m sure that’ll be way better. Yeah let’s get out of this fuckin’ forest before we freeze to death.” Jan added as he walked to the truck.

Robert opened the driver side door to his Bronco. The door made that perfect rusted squeaking noise that Robert always expected to hear. It actually comforted him; and comfort was not making itself readily available this morning. As Jan and Robert piled into the truck Robert spotted his bat. They had left it in the truck while following Jared Wheaton to his father; Jared’s ultimate death at the hands of his own father to be more accurate. Robert felt so incredibly sick over Jared’s death. He wanted to turn the keys to the Bronco’s ignition and just leave the horror behind but he couldn’t. It wasn’t the only death he’d had to deal with today.

“Jan. Listen. I killed someone this morning.” Robert said, bluntly.

Jan cocked his head at Robert.

“Rob, you didn’t kill that kid. His father did. Or no,”
spit
“this fuckin’ disease killed him!” Jan said.

“No. I know that. I feel really bad about Jared and his father. I’m talking about someone else.” Robert said, hoping that Jan wasn’t going to abandon him after hearing the story of Carl Riggins.

“Someone else? Okay.” Jan said, now seemingly on guard for fear of Robert’s words.

“Yeah, in my apartment. My landlord somehow made his way inside…” Robert started.

“Carl Riggins?” Jan asked.

“Yeah.” Robert said, now hoping Jan wasn’t a close and long life friend of Carl’s.

“That old man was an asshole cheapskate. I didn’t realize you were one of his tenants.” Jan said.

“Well I was. You see, he started to attack me in my apartment…” Robert again started but was cut off.

“Was he infected with this shit?” Jan asked, to him it seemed like the most important thing to ask.

“Yeah man, he was rabid and crazed. Smelled like complete shit too.” Robert said. He disgusted himself in saying that, remembering the horrid stench of Carl.

“Ok, so you had to take him down.” Jan said, agreeing with Robert’s need to terminate the sick Carl Riggins.

“It wasn’t as easy as just taking him down, Jan.”

Jan’s eyes opened wider and his right eyebrow rose up high.

“I really had to give it to him. I broke his arms and legs for sure. Should have paralyzed him, but he just kept coming at me!” Robert exclaimed.

In total awe, Jan said very slowly “No way.”

“Yup, I had to give him a seriously brutal blow to the head in order to take him out completely.”

“Jesus Christ almighty. What are we dealing with here Robert?” Jan said, upset. And for the first time in his life Robert thought he heard Jan sound a little defeated. Jan Goodman was always a person that Robert knew during happy times. Never once, even during the hard times in Colton’s recent history, had Jan Goodman ever come off as anything but a positive person. To hear Jan sincerely worried disturbed a brand new part of Robert.

“Let’s just roll on man.” Jan said, breaking the silence.

Robert turned the keys to the ignition; only to be met with a
click, click
and then cold silence.

2

Robert bought his trusty old 1988 Bronco ten years ago, for eight hundred dollars. Even then it was by no means a new vehicle. After Robert’s mechanic, Chip, was through getting the old beast into working order Robert was another six hundred dollars deeper in the whole. Chip was an honest mechanic, but honesty can’t help with a junk heap of a car.

Robert was only eighteen years old and he had saved almost all of his money that summer from working the cash register at IGA. The small grocery store was Robert’s first real job. He didn’t mind it too much, though sometimes the flavor of the local patrons didn’t suit him too well. Robert remembered one time when an older gentleman insisted that he gave him a twenty dollar bill to pay for a can of sardines and a small box of Neapolitan ice cream. The older man had only given Robert a ten spot and Robert knew it. So in the mists of the carrying on and cursing by the older man, Robert was able to get his name and phone number down on a small piece of paper. If his register drawer was over by ten dollars, then he would call the older gentleman and apologize. Well the next day came and when the cashier counter, Candice, had finished counting the previous night’s drawers she had found no discrepancies. Robert thanked Candice and then pulled out the phone number of the older gentleman. The phone rang a few times and then the older gentleman answered simply by saying, ‘
What?’
Robert quickly explained to him that his drawer counted even and that he must have only given him a ten dollar bill. Robert heard two seconds of silence before the old gentleman hung up. And that was that. It had seemed so important to the old man the night before; and now it was worth just a simple disconnecting of the phone, the conversation, and the moment. Thinking back on it, Robert remembered it all very vividly, but couldn’t for the life of him remember the old gentleman’s name.

“Just try her again.” Jan said, snapping Robert back to reality.

Robert turned the keys again and the engine continued to
click
click click
.

“Fuck man!” Robert said, now feeling totally and utterly let down by his vehicle. ‘
Why now? This can’t be happening now, can it? I just had this shitbox tuned up!’

“Pop the hood.” Jan said, and jumped out.

Robert pulled the hood release lever just below the head light switch. The loud
ka-thunk
noise of the hood latch releasing scared a few birds out of the trees in the forest. ‘
The birds
,’ Robert thought.
‘How are they dealing with all of this? The world hasn’t changed for them, has it? Lucky birds.’

Jan stood in front of the Bronco for a while, just looking down into the large mechanical mess. It dawned on Robert that Jan was probably pretty good with machinery. He owns that huge farm; plenty of large machines that always need fixing right? Jan had to be a whiz-kid at fixing vehicles.

“Well, it beats me.” Jan said rather honestly.

“Christ, are you serious?” Robert asked.

Jan stood silent for a moment, thinking.

“No, I got an idea. Rob do you have a hammer in the truck?”

“A hammer? No I don’t think so. I have my bat in the back.”

“Na, that won‘t work. A bat’s too long, I need leverage.” Jan said and then he started to walk around, looking at the ground.

“What are you doing Jan?”

Jan stopped and reached down and picked up a rather large rock. Dusting the snow off of it, he said. “Here, this should do it.”

“Jan what the fuck are you doing?”

“Just get in the truck and when I say so, turn the key. Okay?” Jan said, as he leaned over the engine.

“Um ok.” Robert said. He turned back around to face the hood that mocked him and readied his hand on the keys.

“I’m ready.” Robert called out.

“Ok, on three. One. Two. Three!” Jan yelled out slowly. On three, Robert turned the keys and Jan slammed the rock against the Bronco’s starter column. The engine started almost instantly.

“Holy shit! You did it!” Robert said, excited.

“Yeah but your truck has a busted starter. I don’t know how many more times we can start her this way.” Jan said, not sharing the same excitement of Robert.

“I don’t want to be stuck out here without a vehicle.” Jan said gravely.

Robert’s shoulders dropped; the excitement of the truck starting disappeared as quickly as it had come on, only to be replaced by a feeling of recurring defeat.

“Let’s get rolling.” Jan said as he slammed the hood down on the truck and sprinted to the passenger side.

As Jan sat down, Robert’s phone started to ring.

“Shit, is that Paul?” Jan asked.

Robert looked at the caller ID and then put the truck into drive and started moving. .

“No. It’s my work. What the fuck?” Robert said, confused. Why would work be calling at a time like this?

Robert answered the phone while driving carefully through the snowy forest.

“Hello?” Robert said.

“Robert? This is Harold.” Harold was Robert’s supervisor at the chemical warehouse.

“Yeah, um what’s up?” Robert asked, still confused.

“Well, where are you? You’re almost an hour late for work!” Harold said flatly.

Robert’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe it. Robert knew he worked for a total bunch of morons, but this was too much. Even at the end of the world he was expected to show up to work? Robert laughed out loud. Harold could hear him through the phone and snapped at him “You think that’s funny???? When you finally drag your….”

“Hey have you guys watched any television this morning?” Robert cut him off, “There’s kind of a thing going on.” Robert said in amazement.

“Of course we know, but we still have work to do here.” Harold said.

Robert laughed again, this time only in his mind. The
work
Harold was speaking of was the
work
that Robert and the other grunts were expected to slave over. Not Harold or any of the lazy supervisors. Robert suspected that no one at the warehouse had seen the horror of the disease like he had; on the other hand, maybe they had and they just didn’t care.
Money, money, money
!

Robert was about to give Harold a piece of his mind when he noticed something up ahead in the road.

“Harold, I’ll talk to you later.” Robert hung up, with no intention of calling Harold back.

Robert slowed the truck to a stop. He leaned into the back and grabbed his softball bat. Jan clutched the large rock he had used to whack the starter column with.

They were parked about twenty feet away from three approaching people. A tall man dressed in a suit, one rather obese woman in a blue dress, and one young blonde man in blue jeans---all three most definitely infected.

3

“Rob, those folks don’t look too hot.” Jan said cautiously

“Um, yeah, I can see that Jan, thanks.”

“They’re infected, aren’t they?” Jan asked just as the large approaching woman supplied him with an answer. While stumbling forward, she opened her mouth and started to vomit; the same sick black and bloody bile that Robert had seen before. Most of the vomit landed on her swollen stomach, clinging to her blue dress while the rest of the foul liquid splashed onto the snow on the ground in front of her; staining it black. She stepped right into the vile pile of mucus, oblivious to it, as she and the other two shambled on.

“Jesus man! That’s fucking disgusting!” Jan said, completely repulsed...

“Yup.” Robert agreed as he stepped out of his truck; holding the trusty bat. He made sure to keep the engine running. As Robert slammed his door shut, Jan jumped out of the aging Bronco as well, armed with his large rock.

The trio of infected people became overly excited to see Robert and Jan. They tried to move in on their prey faster, but ended up becoming a clumsy mess of limbs and moans reminiscent of a moving Twister game. The large lady, with streams of vomit still hanging from her chin, bumped the blonde man and her sheer bulk almost knocked him off his feet. The tall man in a suit had leaned forward, reaching for Rob and Jan, so far forward that the weight of the top half of his body almost dragged him down to the ground. Robert realized they really had no idea how their bodies worked. Just how large or tall they were, or how their limbs were
supposed
to work. Robert had not yet seen an infected person out in the open like this and was blinded by amazement.