Zombie Anthology (18 page)

    
School closings were the top news of the morning. Only one school over in Boone somewhere had been closed because of the dead plague, the rest because of the heavy white flakes that poured from the heavens outside her window. Jennifer was deathly afraid of driving in bad weather and sat down at the kitchen table staring at the mess outside. She sipped cold coffee left over from last night and wondered if she should even try to make it in or call someone else who lived closer. She had a great staff and knew Lois could handle it if she didn't show, yet she felt she had to be there. She stood up and got her coat off the back of the chair she was sitting in and shrugged it onto her shoulders, heading outside into the storm. The morning air stung her exposed flesh as she raced over to her car and fired it up. She headed back into the house to get ready while the car's heater worked on the layer of ice over its windshield.

    
A few minutes later she slid into to the now warm car, a cigarette dangling from her lips, and carefully backed down her drive. The car slipped a bit at the end of the drive as it lurched onto the main road but she kept it under control. Setting out a painfully slow crawl, she drove towards town. Fear of wrecking was the only thing that kept her foot off the accelerator. As she reached the main interstate between her home and the store, she noticed a man walking towards her car through the snow as she sat at the stop sign. At first she felt sorry for the poor man and thought of offering him a ride into town but as he drew nearer she realized there was something not right about the way he was walking. As he lumbered underneath the glow of the streetlights, she got a clear look at him. Blood caked the edges of his lips and his face was pale, encrusted with ice. His eyes were rolled back in his head showing only white. The three piece suit he wore was dirty and covered in mud and something red. Quickly she hit he auto lock button sealing the car tight as he shuffled still even closer to her car. She looked around frantically searching for some else but the interstate was quiet and there was no sign of any other car anywhere. “Oh God,” she thought. “Was he dead?” She had never seen one of the dead up close, only in the papers and on TV. She felt her heart pounding in her chest, threatening to burst. Jennifer floored the pedal and roared out onto the road. She watched the figure growing smaller in her rearview and shuddered. She'd been lucky there was only one of them and she had been in her car.

    
Suddenly her car veered to the left as she hit a patch of ice. It spun out of control as she screamed, dropping her cigarette to the floor boards. She wrestled with the wheel straining to regain control as the car went off the road. She was flung forward in her seat as the car smashed into the tree line and the engine went dead to the sickening crunch of bone and metal. Jennifer's blurred vision looked out at the flattened hood of the car and tears welled up in her eyes. Her right leg felt like Hell. Blood was leaking through her dress pants where the white of her bone jabbed outwards. She wrenched open her door and leaned out, vomiting onto the pavement. Her hand found the seatbelt release button and she tumbled out of the car onto the road, yelling as her leg felt it was being torn off. She fought not to black out and started screaming for help. Suddenly she remembered the flares in her trunk and started to drag her body towards the back of the car.

    
She saw him again then. The dead man still working his way down the road towards her. Panic ripped through her veins. She jerked herself to her feet using the car to pull herself up, watching him grow ever closer. She felt the bile rising in her throat again but had no time to be sick again. She abandoned the flares and the car and took off limping down the road away from the man. There was a rest area not too far ahead. Surely someone would be there.

    
She made it a few steps before a second figure came bounding out of the trees ahead of her. This one a woman, young like herself and so freshly dead that red liquid still poured and steamed from the chewed out holes of her throat. Jennifer tried to shove the woman away as she grabbed at her face. Too long nails managing to slash Jennifer's cheek all the same.

    
Jennifer twisted her leg, howling, as she fell to the ground. The woman threw herself onto Jennifer, ripping and biting at her. The woman's teeth sunk into Jennifer's shoulder as the man finally arrived. The last thing Jennifer saw as her world went black was his open mouth of yellow teeth dropping towards to her throat.

3 - The Devil's Ride

    
Blue lights reflected in the rearview mirror. Jack cursed, slamming his hands on the sides of the steering wheel, as he checked his speed. The odometer read 85 mph. For a second, Jack considered flooring the petal but he realized running would only make things worse. The last thing he needed was more cops after him tonight and there was a much easier and fun way to deal with the interloper. He slowed his speed and pulled off onto the roadside. The highway was empty to the horizon in both directions except for the trooper's car which pulled off behind him and the pale starlight of the desert night.

    
Jack reached for the cigarette dangling from the edge of the car's ashtray and took a long drag as he watched the trooper step out of his vehicle. He was a younger man, though not a stupid one. Jack could tell from the way he approached that knew what he was doing. The trooper shined his flashlight over Jack's hands on the wheels.

    
Jack looked up smiling.

    
"Can I help you, officer?"

    
"License and registration,” the trooper ordered.

    
Jack laughed and flicked his cigarette through the air at the man's face. Caught off guard, stumbled as Jack slammed open his door, knocking him from his feet. In a blur, Jack was over him, pinning him to the ground. The trooper struggled, well-toned muscles rippling under his uniform, but Jack's grip was like steel.

    
Jack's tongue shot out. Impossibly long and ribbed with flecks of bone matter that seemed to grow out from inside the tissue, it tore into the young man's neck. Blood sprayed over Jack as the officer convulsed and spasmed below him. Jack shook his head and his tongue ripped free. Black pus oozed from its entry point. Jack licked his lips unnaturally as his tongue folded back into his mouth.

    
When the officer lay still, Jack picked up his corpse effortlessly and carried him around to the trunk. He popped it open and tossed the trooper inside on top of his earlier prey, two unfortunate people working at a late night roadside diner from fifty miles back. Without a second thought, Jack closed the trunk and got back in the car. He lit another smoke and cranked up the radio as he peeled out and shot back onto the road. The sound of “Sympathy for the Devil” by the Stones blared into the night and Mexico was only miles away.

4 - To Be Born

    
I can still hear his breathing behind me, a wet sputtering noise. It takes me a moment to turn around though I can't say why. Red bubbles pulsate as he tries to sit up and reach for the gun near his mangled form. I raise my own hand as thunder floods the room with a flash. His head snaps back as the bullet shreds his brain. There's a dull thud, then the room is silent. I look around at the bodies of his guards. One lays broken in half near the door, two in puddles of red riddled with entry wounds from my 9mm rounds, and the last beside him, arms stretched out and laying face down showing the hole in the back of his head where my hand entered his flesh.

    
Smoke lingers around the barrel of my weapon and I watch it drift away into the air. Fighting down the desires inside of myself to flee and just run away, I walk calmly, stepping over the dead, out of his office onto the street. Sirens blare in the distance but they have no meaning to me. I am above the law or so I am told.

    
Sometimes I wonder what it is like to die. I imagine that is natural given my relationship with death. What concerns me is that I have begun to wonder what it is like to be born.

    
I have never seen the sun rise. I have never made love to a woman nor felt the comforting hand of a friend. My brothers and I do not talk. We are not allowed to. I listen to the technicians though as they tuck me into my vat at the end of each night. I listen to their worries, small talk, and lives, and wonder what it must be like to be them. They never speak to me. They clean away the blood, make needed repairs in my tissue, and place me inside my home. The suspending fluids pour in and the blackness comes. I wonder if that sensation is what death is like, to find yourself alone in the void with only your thoughts echoing in the emptiness.

    
I have never spoken a word that “they” did not give me but I long to. I wish to ask Tech, designate: Carl, about his children and how little Michael is doing with his “cold". To ask Tech, designate: Terry, about her kitchen and see if she has repaired the “grease-fire” damage. But I do not. I have seen what happens to and even eliminated my brothers who show “thought". Perhaps soon my brothers will have to “deal” with me.

    
I stand in the alley and watch the black van pull in, its door already sliding open. Agent, designate: Jason, motions me inside. I climb in and sit motionless, eyes staring forward, seeing nothing as we drive away. He and his partner, agent, designate: John, will take me home to the lab now. I look forward to the vat and the void for perhaps the blackness will amend these feelings. If I awake again, they will have no chance against me when I refuse to return then. They were “born” and I was made. Made to kill for my country, though I am not sure I know what that is

5 - Fears

    
Lisa was getting ready to lock up for the night as a last car pulled into the video store's parking lot. She cursed under her breath, leaving the doors open and headed back to the counter.

    
A lone man got out of the car. He was young, probably in his mid-twenties, and wore a black jeans and a matching jacket. Long dark hair spilled over his shoulders. He made his way inside and headed straight towards her. Without bothering to say hello, he asked, “Do you have any Fulci?"

    
Lisa's tired mind fought to make sense of the question as she stared into his blue eyes. “Excuse me?” she said.

    
"Fulci, the Italian director,” the man said in an irritated tone.

    
"I don't think so,” Lisa answered.

    
The man pulled a .38 revolver from his jacket pocket and pointed it at her face. Lisa blinked as her mouth went suddenly dry.

    
"That's too bad,” the man purred. “I guess I'll just have to find another way to amuse myself tonight."

    
Lisa's heart thundered in her chest and a slight layer of sweat began to form on her brow.

    
"Tell me,” he asked leaning closer, “What are you afraid of?"

    
Lisa was so terrified that she told the truth. “The dumpsters ... The dumpster out back. I can't stand to take the night trash out by myself. There's something inside of it. I don't know how, but it's always there, watching me, waiting for me to get too close."

    
"Really.” The man grinned feeding on her fear. “Show me."

    
"No!” Lisa squealed, “I can't..."

    
The man pulled back the revolver's hammer, clicking a round into place, and shoved the barrel against her forehead. “I said, show me,” he ordered.

    
Lisa led him out back to the dumpsters, making sure to give them a wide berth. As the man examined them something thumped inside the largest dumpster.

    
"Ah.” He smiled, dragging a crate of trash over to its side. “Let's take a look at your fear."

    
The man climbed onto the crate and peered down into the dumpster. In a blur of movement almost too fast for the human eye to follow, a large furry hand matted with blood and feces grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him inside.

    
Lisa screamed as she heard the sickening snap of bones that echoed in the dumpster. She ran through the store's rear entrance, slamming the door behind her, and fell to her knees. Tears burned in her eyes as she realized the thing of her fears was real. The last thing Lisa heard before the blackness came was an animal like roar as something tore the door from its hinges and entered the store.

6 - From Heaven, Into Hell

    
It was both the best and worst day of Jeremiah's life. The good news was he'd just made the find of a lifetime. There would be no more endless days spent backing his back to pan a few nuggets now and then out of Topher river. No more endless meals of dried beans and stale bread. The Lord had finally given him his due in the form of a shooting star that had blazed its way through the clouds, brighter than the noon day sun. Sure it had blown the tarnation out of his old shack and made one hell of a hole to boot, but he didn't care because the orb from the heavens looked like it weighed over thirty pounds and glimmered like gold. Jeremiah knew in his heart that it was the purest gold he'd ever seen.