Containment (Alaskan Undead Apocalypse Book 2) Page 5

  Kim was crying by then, but they were silent tears...with not so much as a single sniffle. She looked off at the trees that stood as a buffer between the sports park and the highway. It all seemed so surreal to her that, in the middle of the terrifying storm in which they were traveling, there could be such a peaceful spot as this. She wished that Tony were still with them. With his big arms and bigger heart, he’d know how to hold her and make her feel that everything was going to be alright. He always knew how to make things better for her. She wanted to remember all the good times with him at work and at home, hers or his, on the couch watching whatever they could find on television. She closed her eyes and tried to see his face, but all she saw was the venomous rage and hunger on the face of her friend Tony after he’d been attacked by those things.

  All at once, Kim got to her feet and made her way down off of the bleachers and away from the others. She knew that her resentment for the others was unfounded and that they were right in leaving him behind. She also realized that it would have been Tony that would have pointed all of this out to her and helped her to accept it. Knowing, however, did nothing to diminish her pain. If the hot, metaphysical poker that seemed to be jabbing into her chest would stop, that would be a fantastic start.

  She walked over to the van and found a large piece of cardboard on the floor behind the last row of seats. Tearing sections out of it as she walked, she came back over to the dusty infield and began to make a pile of her own. Jules and Danny quickly joined her. She said to each of them, “Now this is a pile that we’ll make but not jump on, okay?”

  Making their feet into bulldozers, Danny and Jules scooped and pushed piles of dirt until they had formed a respectable mound. Danny went so far as to make motor sounds as he pushed the soil forward and beeped whenever he went in “reverse.” Kim, meanwhile, went back to tearing and shaping the cardboard. She did so quietly, her back to the others still sitting on the bleachers. She wasn’t doing this for them. This was for Tony. And for her.

  When she had finished, she paused again. She could feel the heat rising up in her chest. This was how it had been when she attended her father’s funeral. Despite not having seen him for years, she couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the loss. She hugged her cardboard creation to her chest and closed her eyes. She lowered to her knees and sank the long end of cardboard into the pile and then stood away from it.

  It wasn’t as grandiose as Calvary, but on the ground in front of her was a mound with a modest cross rising up. Neil and the others stood and joined her. They gathered round the cross as if it were the single mass grave for all that had been lost in the still unfolding calamity. The solemn silence stood there with them, touching each of them.

  And then Maggie was there with them as well. She opened a Bible and began to read. Even the silence paused to listen, perhaps seeking its own sense of solace.

  “...though I may walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil...”

  Kim produced a Sharpie marker from the pocket of her light jacket and rolled it in her hand for a few moments, decisions just out of reach teasing her. And then she leaned down, took the cross out of the dirt, and wrote Tony’s name on it. She held it quietly as Maggie continued to read. With her thumb, she caressed the writing gently, hoping that perhaps touching his name would help mend the deep emotional connection that had once existed between her and her friend. She closed her eyes to see his face one last time, kissed his name, and then handed the cross to Meghan, whose hand was extended to her.

  Kim rose back up with a pinch of dusty earth in her palm. She looked up at the sky and then let the dirt sift through her fingers and be caught by the slight flurry of air. Meghan followed suit by writing her fiancé’s name on the cardboard and doing the same as Kim. Dr. Caldwell was next in line.

  When the cross was handed to Neil, he opened the marker but then stalled when he realized he didn’t have a name to write on it. There was no one who immediately came to mind to mourn. His parents, he hoped, were still safe and removed out east in Pennsylvania. His ex-wife had made it abundantly clear that he was less than a memory and a painful mistake for her. He had no children and really no close friends with whom he shared anything. He looked around at the others and was overtaken with embarrassment. He empathized with all of them, but his detachment from all of those around him had the unintended effect of insulating him from the loss that they all felt. He suspected that, perhaps, he was better off than the rest of them when he stopped and considered the isolation that had characterized his life before Armageddon.

  Kim, Meghan, and Doc had all walked away and were standing next to the van. Jerry was positioned on top of the vehicle keeping watch, ever vigilant. Maggie and Malachi were still enwrapped in the Bible’s words. Emma was staring at the mound and holding Jules and Danny to her legs. Neil was as alone in his moment of self-pity as he was in his miserable life. Not wishing to add irreverence to his misery, he slowly and carefully re-buried the long end of the cross into the mound and then walked away as well. Silently, he crept back to the van and took his place behind the wheel without uttering a single word to anyone.

  Only a few minutes later, Jerry asked no one in particular, “Can you guys hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Dr. Caldwell was the first to answer.

  “I can hear...hell, I can basically feel a buzzing in the air. It’s like the kind of vibration that we all heard back at the house, but it’s much lower...not nearly as intense.”

  The doctor looked at Kim and Meghan, still standing next to him by the van, and both of them shook their heads.

  “No. We don’t hear anything.”

  Jerry hopped down from the van, the scoped hunting rifle slung over his shoulder, and said, “I’m not sure, but I think maybe we should get moving again. They may have found us.”

  Kim asked, “They?”

  Jerry nodded and clarified, “Yeah, you know…they. Them. The zombies. I think that’s what I’m hearing. But I feel like I’m hearing it in my chest more than anything. It’s hard to describe.”

  Danny, who had come over to the van thinking that they were getting ready to go, added, “It’s like holding the lawnmower handle with your stomach.”

  Jerry wrinkled his brow and pursed his lips, then said approvingly, “That’s a great description for it, Danny, my boy. That just about describes it to a tee. It’s just kind of a low vibration that buzzes you from front to back but there’s a sound element to it too that lurks in the background.” He winked at Danny who, once again, beamed with delight at having contributed to the conversation. This was becoming a habit for him and he liked the praise. This wasn’t like teachers back home who were paid to give praise. He was earning it because it was merited, and he could tell the difference.

  Still looking at Danny, Jerry said to everyone, “Regardless of how it feels or sounds, I still think we should get on the move. It’s starting to get stronger, so either they are getting closer or there are more of them.”

  “Or both!” shouted Emma, running toward the van. She was pointing at the road leading into the sports park. There, coming slowly up the path but gradually gaining steam, was a crowd of maybe ten of the beasts.

  Despite the distance, they could still see that the zombies’ skin had taken on a slightly grey hue and whatever wounds had originally claimed them were now merely rust colored patches against their skin and clothing. Their movements were stiffer and less organic. They seemed clumsier at first, but as they drew nearer and the scent of their prey became stronger, their shuffle became a slow amble, which transformed into a bit of fast paced walk and then almost a trot.

  Jerry stood next to the van as the women and children from the party climbed into the rear. He hoisted the rifle to his shoulder, clicked off the safety, and then sought a target through his scope. He picked out a “man” wearing coveralls that sported the logo of one of the local airfreight outfits. His dark scraggly facial hair stood out in stark contrast against the practi
cally translucent grey skin of his scarred face. Jerry took in a deep breath, held it, and squeezed the trigger.

  Everyone in the van, including Dr. Caldwell and Neil in the front two seats, jumped. Across the parking lot though, there was one fewer attacker coming toward them. Jerry felt that, given the time and opportunity, he could probably take all of them down. He slid the door shut, struck by the ease with which the thought occurred to him. As they exited the park, he sat in his more comfortable spot on the bench seat in complete awe of the change in his temperament and his almost casual acceptance of the way things were now. Maybe that was what was keeping him alive. Maybe. Or maybe deep down, within sight but just out of reach in the well of his soul, there was a sense in him that he was actually thriving and had always sought just such a set of circumstances. This, of course, was absurd. He attributed it to the continual bile of their circumstances. It was ridiculous to think that anyone could possibly be prospering in these difficult days. He was, however, finding himself settling comfortably into the role that he was assuming within their group.

  The quiet in the van that followed was not full of hopeless despair as it had been earlier. They weren’t the only ones still alive and Maggie was proof of that. Their lot was bad, there was no denying it, but perhaps there was that outside possibility that there were others.

  Seizing upon the more open mood of those around her, Emma said, “So, is it just me or does calling those things zombies just seem...I don’t know...weird? Maybe a little hokey?”

  Jerry asked, “What do you want to call them?”

  “I don’t know. But, I mean, we don’t even know for sure what they are? Do we? Calling them zombies...we might as well be calling them boogie men.”

  Jerry said sarcastically, “Well calling them mindless, fearless, merciless killing machines is a bit of a mouthful.”

  Dr. Caldwell suggested, “How about zekes?

  Both Emma and Jerry, incredulous scowls on their faces, asked, “Zekes?”

  “Yeah. Zombie. Z. Zeke.”

  Neil said, “Pretty clever, Doc.”

  “I can’t claim credit for it. Flyers in World War Two in the Pacific called Japanese Zeros ‘Zekes’. For a while, Zekes ruled the skies. They killed everything in their paths.”

  Neil asked, “For a while?”

  “Yeah, the American pilots and aviation engineers figured out a way to best them every time. It took some time and some tragedy, but they figured out a way to beat the seemingly invincible. They proved that it could be done.”

  Dr. Caldwell looked over at Neil, smiled, and said, “They didn’t give up. They beat the bastards.”

  Neil smiled back. “Yeah. I guess anything’s possible.”

  Emma asked, “History Channel?”

  Dr. Caldwell replied, “Bingo.”

  To which she said, “Zeke works for me.”

  “So, zeke it is,” Neil said, ending the discussion. “Thank you Doc. Now where to?”

  Dr. Caldwell smiled and to Neil he joked, “Sorry my friend. We’re just like Congress. We can only do one thing at a time and it’s usually not what really needs attention. We just gave you a name for our foe. Time for our recess.”

  Neil said, “The park it is.”

  Chapter 7

  Malachi and Maggie were closely following the van in the dusty black Passat. Malachi was finding it easier to stay focused and anchored to the present by staring every now and again at the Jesus statuette on the dashboard. It became his reality beacon and seemed to be working. It was comforting to know where and when he was. It was also much more comfortable to be back on the road again. There was something soothing about the vibrations from the road racing by beneath him. Perhaps, in some preternatural way, he was reminded of gliding around in his mother’s womb.

  When Maggie began to sing “Jesus Loves Me”, he joined in almost immediately, as pleased as a schoolboy at recess. They sang refrain after refrain, each with more gusto than the previous. And when Maggie stopped singing and started to speak, Malachi couldn’t stop himself from booming out still more of the song.

  “...this I know. For the Bible tells me so...”

  It took Maggie practically slapping him to get him to stop. Whether she was a God- fearing woman or not, her slapping him sent a sour tone all through his body. She began to speak, but all of his focus was on the dashboard Jesus in front of him and he was unable to follow any of what she was saying. In his mind, he was still singing the song loud and clear. He was hanging on to the present, but his anger was muddying his judgment.

  Maggie repeated, irritation surfacing in her voice, “I said are you in or not?”

  Having not a clue as to what he was agreeing to, he simply nodded his head.

  Maggie smiled at him, the pleasantness returning to her tone, “I knew that I could trust you, Brother Malachi. I could just see the light of the Lord in your eyes. Besides, when it’s done, it’ll just be better. They’ll be happier too. I mean, they’ll be home.

  “And you and me can go right on down the road spreading His Word and preparing souls for their final journey. Salvation.” She winked at him and then launched into Amazing Grace.

  Chapter 8

  They drove west and then south until they got to Raspberry Road. On the corner at the intersection sat a small strip mall which housed several other businesses, including a small traditional ice cream shop called Tastee Freez. In better times, the shop’s loyal clientele kept its mostly pubescent workforce hopping, creating delectable frozen treats and better than average greasy spoon food selections.

  The treat shop was now dark and deserted, something that Neil couldn’t remember having ever seen. He was momentarily reminded of better days and the craving for a chocolate milkshake suddenly hit him.

  From behind him, Jerry suggested, “You know, there might be canned food in there. We are running low on supplies. We should probably stock up everywhere we go. There might even be bottled water in there. Probably worth a look.”

  Dr. Caldwell said half-jokingly and half-accusingly, “You guys are just jonesin’ for chocolate milkshakes and are hoping for some still partially frozen ice cream at the bottom of a freezer in there. I can see right through both of you. And I think it sounds like a hell of an idea.”

  Meghan, who had been looking from Jerry to Neil and now at Dr. Caldwell, asked them all, “Are you guys out of your gourds?”

  Dr. Caldwell defended them with, “Actually, Jerry is right. There’s a good chance that this place has been free of looters way out here and might just have some goodies inside that we could use. Besides, the toilets might still have water in the reservoir. You could use a flushing toilet again. Remember what that was like?”

  Son of a bitch knows the way to a woman’s heart, Meghan thought to herself. Any of her protests melted away with her innocent and simple observation, “Toilet paper.”

  They pulled into the parking lot, circling once to look at each of the storefronts in the plaza, all of which still had intact windows. It did appear as if this location was largely untouched by the calamity that had wrecked most of the rest of Anchorage. The two vehicles pulled up alongside one another in front of the ice cream shop.

  Maggie rolled down her window and addressed Dr. Caldwell. “What are we doing here? You know, they won’t be serving ice cream anymore.”

  Dr. Caldwell, never taking his eyes off of the darkened windows of the shop in front of him, said, “Yeah. We get that. We’re just looking for supplies is all. There might be cans of food and possibly water in there, and we need both.” And to no one in particular he asked, “How are we going to get in there?”

  Chapter 9

  With Jerry back on his roost on top of the van and acting as a lookout, the others assembled in the parking lot and started to discuss their options.

  Malachi asked, “Why don’t we just smash in a window?”

  “We could,” Neil said, “but if we could find another way in without making as much noise, I think we would all be b
etter off.”

  Kim suggested, “Maybe we could just punch a hole through one of the windows big enough to fit one of us through and then that person could open the door.”

  Dr. Caldwell, peering in the large windows and trying to see any threats lurking inside, said, “That isn’t a half bad idea. But who is going to go in?”

  Emma said, “It should probably be someone who is smaller so that we can make the smallest hole possible. I guess that means me.”

  “I’ll go.”

  Everyone turned to the voice of the volunteer. It was Danny. He had been sitting in the van but was now standing in the lot next to Neil. He repeated, “I’ll go.”

  “No,” Emma said adamantly. “We don’t know what’s in there. It’s too dangerous. Hell, I don’t even want to go in there on my own.”

  “I’m not afraid. Besides, if I can get in and open those doors fast enough I won’t be in there by myself for very long.”

  Neil was shaking his head but saying nothing.

  “C’mon, let me do my part. If I thought I could get hurt in there, do you think I’d want to go? I won’t be out of sight one bit. If one of those things is in there, you guys can shoot out the windows and come and get me.”

  Without thinking or saying a word, Neil walked Danny over to the glass door. He kneeled down with Danny and knocked a small hole in the glass with the butt of his shotgun. The first couple of strikes cracked and shattered the glass, but it stayed in its metal frame. With his third hit, he was able to punch through. The hole was right at ground level, so any falling glass wasn’t able to make much of a sound.

  Neil looked at Danny. “You crawl through, stand up, and open the door. You don’t even take a step away. Do you hear me? You get through and open the door. Nothing else. Okay?”