Zombies! Rising from the Dead (20 page)

lathered
up and began to shave and with each pass of the razor I
b
egan to look something of
myself again. I finished shaving and then turned my attention to my long locks of hair. I had a
hair trimmer, but it was useless with no electricity. I grabbed my scissors, wet my scalp and
started trimming. I cut carefully, filling the sink with dark, greasy clumps of matted hair. With
the beard now gone and the hair trimmed back I looked like I had before all this started, and the
absence of that nasty beard and thick hair left me feeling cool and refreshed. I cleaned up the
hair in the sink and threw a few towels over the shower door. I turned the knobs and got in, not
waiting for the water to warm up as what warmth remained was cooling by the second. I
lathered and washed, rinsing the last of the shaving cream from my face. My hair was still
greasy and encrusted despite having cut it back; a result of not bathing for such a long period. I
shampooed my hair three times before it came clean and my scalp felt fresh again.
I was filthy from the sweat and
oil;
I could smell my own stink. I stood in the shower for a
while even after I was done, letting the water roll off my head and face; it felt good, really
good! The water began to cool and surprisingly it felt as good if not better than the warm . .
.perhaps
my metabolism was jacked up and my body was running several degrees above
normal, and the cold water cooled me off. I finished up, reached for the knobs, savoring
the last few drops of the water as it dripped from the shower head. I braced my arms against the
shower wall starring down as I watched the last few trickles of water go down the drain.

“It's time, let's do this,”
I thought to myself.
I got dressed; jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers, It was already nine-thirty. And soon we would

be
on our way to Panatauk, or worse an early morning snack for some undead thing.

I was ready.

I called to Rick over the radio,
“Rick, you there?”

I heard the scuffling as he reached for the device.
“Yeah I'm here, How are you doing?”

“I'm alright.
B
uddy this is it, are you ready?”
I asked.

“Brother, I am as ready as I'm going to get...”
came
his reply.

“Okay, it's about ten . . . I will be there right around eleven. It might be a little after
depending on what I have to deal with out there
”, I told him.

“We will be waiting. Even Amanda is ready to do this believe it or not.”

“Can I talk to her real quick?”
I asked.

“Sure,”
he handed the radio over to Amanda.

“Hey there girl, how you doing?”
I asked in a sympathetic tone.

“
I'm alright, Bruce thanks for helping me out.”

“Listen, you guys are the closest things I have to family and I'm here for
ya
, we are going
to get you through this okay? It's a scary thing I know, but Rick has talked to you about this.
Don't think of these things as real people, they’re not
hun
,”
I insisted.
“It's just
tissue;
try not
to think of it as anything more. Just stay close to Rick and I, we will get you through this
.
It's
going to be fine, I promise.”
I told her in my most reassuring voice.

“Thanks, I really appreciate that, I'm just scared
”,
I could tell anyway by the tremble in
her voice. She tried to hide it but it was impossible to mask.

“We are
going to
get through this, don't you worry!”
I told her once again. “
Okay I'm
gonna
go, got
to
get my stuff ready and then I will be heading out, Amanda make sure you have Rick
all fixed up?”

“Okay, I will tell Rick...see you soon
”,
and with that the conversation was over, no more
time for talk, it was all about our actions now.

It was good to talk to Amanda. Over the last month or two she hadn't been much of a
conversationalist, between her nerves and being sick off and on she simply hadn't been up to it.
I figured it was a good idea to talk with her. I know Rick had been giving her pep talks but
s
ometimes it’s good to hear encouragement from someone else.

It was ten-thirty, time to get going. Rick lived only two miles down the road but I had to
m
ake my way to the truck and there’s no telling what other obstacles stood between my house
and his.

Walking over to the sofa I rested my hands against the backrest and spoke aloud.
Well old girl this is it
I patted the soft cushions, gathered my supplies and said my
farewells.

For the second and possibly last time I opened the attic door and lowered the ladder. I
climbed up the dirty, narrows steps and sat my things on the ledge as I pulled myself into the
confining attic space. Traversing the small area was difficult, harder still with a fully loaded
shotgun. I couldn't take the extra seconds needed to load it once I was outside
;
that was time
that I couldn't afford to waste,
I would just have to be careful
.
I didn't want to provide those things with
an easy meal by accidentally shooting myself in the face.

I approached the small window which was just large enough for me to fit through. I opened
the slates and looked out, checking to see if anything had changed over the last day or so, but
everything looked much as it did from the previous day. There were still a good seventy or
eighty of those things creeping about the house and yard. I could see the front of the truck
peering out from under the carport.

“
No more hesitation...”
I told myself.

I took a deep breath and quietly opened the small window. The old window was hard to pry
loose;
it hadn't been used in years. I finally loosened the window and pushed it open. As of this
very
moment,
every
second was critical.

I put the backpack and gun on the roof until I could safely clear the window. It was a hot
summer day and the heat from the shingles burned my hands. I had no choice but to crawl on
my belly to avoid detection; had I stood up those bastards would have noticed me instantly. I
would have to crawl the length of the roof where it finally joined the carport; this was going to
be uncomfortable. I had been on the roof for only seconds but could already feel my chest and
forearms scorching from the heat of the shingles
;
the abrasive texture was rubbing my
stomach raw.

I quietly began to crawl along the edges of the roof, watching those undead things as they
went about their business; whatever that was. I was taken back as I looked out and saw just
how many of them there were, the limited vantage points from within the house had given me a
false sense of my situation, only now was it plainly obvious; I could only guess at the numbers
which looked to be well over a hundred. I could hear my heartbeat screaming in my ears and

m
y
shirt was drenched in sweat. The fight or flight instinct was telling me everything about this
was wrong, telling me to run away and go back inside where it was safe. It took everything I
had not turn around and scramble back inside.

I was doing well until I reached the crevice where the roof merged with the carport. Just as
I was preparing to drop down unseen and make a clean getaway, one of the creatures took
notice of the movement and saw me as I was trying to get down.
It was too late! Any hesitation now would only make it harder to fight my way out, or
worse still end up dead in my own driveway; leaving my friends to fend for themselves.
I crouched as low as I could to the end of the roof. It was a good eight foot drop even from
the edge, but I needed to try and land on my feet. I didn't want to end up on my back in a prone
position. I threw my backpack down and then my gun. Carefully as I could, I jumped...

The ground was rock hard from weeks of drought. My legs and feet took the brunt as a
sharp surge of pain coursed through my left leg and up into my arm. I thought for certain I had sprained my ankle. My leg gave way under the pain and I fell to one knee. It took seconds to
r
ecover. Looking up, still writhing in pain and nauseous from the experience more creatures
were headed my way, having been alerted by the other. I grabbed my gun and slung my pack
over my shoulder.
I got to my feet, still hobbling on one leg, weak from the impact. The creatures headed
towards me as I turned in the direction I needed to go to make my escape.
As I turned towards the truck I was horrified. There under the carport must have been
twenty undead massed around the door. I had never been able to see under the carport until
now. They turned sharply had headed in my direction; faster than I would have thought them
able too. I had to get moving but the truck was surrounded. Perhaps someone else would have
thought to try and fight their way through, only to fall under the sheer volume; I was taking no
such chances. I decided to draw them away from the vehicle by using myself as bait, but
moving was still difficult. I was still limping on one foot and every step sent red hot jolts of
pain up through my leg; but there were no other options. I backed off into the yard trying to
draw their attention.
I
would
get them away from the truck by hanging myself out there as bait; close enough to
keep them interested but far enough to minimize any threat. I would draw them down the hill
away from the house. Then I would make a run for it, doubling around the house and into the
vehicle.