After Life (12 page)

“So, yeah, I survived. Hooray for me. But there was no reason I could see — then or now — why I should have been one of the ones to survive when women, children, better people than me had to die. So they could go to heaven? So those of us that survived could value our lives more, turn to God more, be better people? I mean, if you say so, but Z’s seem like an extreme measure.

“I’m sorry, but the only thing that made sense to me — the only thing that
makes
sense to me, is that I was wrong. There’s no God out there pulling some fancy strings. And any God that would choose zombies as his method of enforcement isn’t a god I feel much allegiance to. I mean, I’d love it if there were. It would make a lot of this world easier to handle. But wanting something to be true doesn’t make it true, you know?”

“So what
do
you believe in, Donnie?” Nick asked, still with a spit in his voice.

“What do I believe? I believe that out of all eleventy billion planets in all the kajillion galaxies out there, one of them was bound to be the perfect distance from the perfect star to provide the perfect atmosphere for life to develop. I believe humans, like dinosaurs and amoeba and whatever else before them, are subject to the waxing and waning that comes with planetary dominance. I believe that, twenty years ago, we had a period of waning, just like we did during the World Wars and the Black Plague. We’ve been waxing ever since, and today, for some reason, we started waning again.

“And you know what else I believe? I believe that what goes around comes around. So if there
is
a God out there, and he, for whatever reason,
did
decide to send the zombies down here to, I don’t know, teach us a lesson, then that is one
hell
of a hit his karma took. Because that’s just a bullshit tactic. So if there is a God, he’s due for a whole load of shit for sending those things. Twice.”

The three of them walked in silence until they turned onto Winthrop. Donnie saw Michelle’s car about fifty yards away when Nick finally spoke.

“You’re going to have a lot to answer for someday.”

“Maybe he will, Nick,” Michelle said, not wanting to continue this conversation any more than she had to. She knew there was going to be no changing Donnie’s mind, no making him know what she knew — at least, not in the time it would take to get to the car. “Maybe he will. But maybe he won’t. I mean, if ever there were extenuating circumstances, the Z’s would be it, wouldn’t they? I don’t know, and I hope Donnie never has to pay the price for his beliefs, but I don’t think it’s our place to tell him that.”

Nick nodded, clearly annoyed. By this point, they had reached the car, and Michelle opened the driver’s door. Immediately, the repetitive ding-ding-ding noise started, letting them know that the keys were in the ignition — theft in 2030 was not nearly the worry it had once been, and Michelle rarely bothered to secure her vehicle.

Donnie opened the passenger door and turned to Nick. “Are you going with us?”

Nick shot Donnie an annoyed look and shook his head. “No thanks,” he said. “
I
don’t have a kid in Hyannis.”

Michelle closed her eyes. Nick was right; he didn’t have a kid in Hyannis. Neither, she thought sadly, did she. Neither did any living person she knew. Still, she was going.

“So what are you going to do?” Donnie asked.

“Who knows?” Nick said. “I’ll find somewhere to hole up. I’m a survivor.”

“What about the office?” Michelle asked, trying to will herself not to think about Madison. “Didn’t you say you had to stay there no matter what? Isn’t that ‘the job’?”

“Screw the job,” Nick said. “The only job now is to survive.”

Chapter 8: Fast Food

The gun in Celia’s hand felt huge, unwieldy. When her father had shown her how to shoot, how to carry a gun, how to clean it, how to reload, it had felt heavy, sure. But this was a new weight. Like the gun in her hand had gained about fifteen pounds in the past few minutes.

She hadn’t noticed the extra weight until she was hit by the sunshine as she and everyone else stormed through the door to the outside. Celia hadn’t remembered it being this bright when they took shelter, but she supposed her eyes had grown accustomed to the lesser lighting inside the classroom.

Outside the door, Celia saw scores of the dead. Many of them, most of them, were crouched over bodies, getting their fill. Celia saw the sunglasses kid, his shades lying disregarded several feet away, kneeling over a corpse that was being devoured by no fewer than seven other zombies, crouched around the body like a group of vultures. Around each group, the pools of blood were spreading rapidly, giving the whole paved area a polka-dot pattern.

Z’s that had not managed to find a spot at a dead-body buffet were walking around randomly. Some, Celia saw off in the distance, were heading in the vague direction of the highway she and her father had driven in on. Others though, the ones that apparently hadn’t figured out the right direction, were aimlessly shambling around. Some stopped near the buffets, looking for an inlet to the feast, but when none presented itself, the creatures continued to wander.

Celia blinked several times as she exited the stairwell. In front of her, her father and Roger Stone fired off a couple of cursory shots, taking down the two Z’s nearest to the door. Stacy and Simon ran out on either side of Celia, though neither one needed to fire a shot right away. Just behind Simon, Mr. Lowensen ran, hunched over, his figure largely blocked by the tall boy. Her own face, she suddenly realized, was streaked with tears, including several now-dried ones she had apparently shed earlier without realizing. She didn’t know when she had started crying, but she knew she was still doing so.

Celia’s weapon was held at her side, though her finger was on the trigger and her elbow was locked. It was true that she had never used the weapon for any purpose other than the large Z-cutouts that adorned the range her father frequented, but she nevertheless knew how to hold a gun, knew how to have it at the ready for use at an instant’s notice.

The girl was suddenly grateful for her father’s meticulous pursuit of a parking spot. When they had arrived at Morgan College, Andy had circled the parking lot five times before spying the well-parked parents who were pulling out of the convenient space. Celia, more eager to see her new school than to find a luxurious spot, had been practically hopping behind her seat belt as she awaited the stopping of the car.

As her vision cleared before her though, the first vehicle Celia caught sight of was her father’s run-down Camry, sitting calmly in the closest parking space, and she loved the sight. That car meant freedom. That car meant comfort. That car meant, above all else, survival.

So Celia set her eyes on the car. She had two capable adults in front of her, two seemingly capable peers alongside her, and dozens of theoretically viable adults in her wake — Celia figured that she need pay attention to nothing but her vehicular savior.

And, for the first five or six steps out of the “safe place,” she was right. None of the buffet Z’s spared a glance for the people flowing from the door, and none of the shamblers were facing their direction, either. Celia heard Lowensen sigh behind her.

It was a premature exhalation, though. The two gunshots attracted the attention of a few nearby Z’s, including the sunglasses kid. That zombie, along with half a dozen others, turned toward the motley crew, and advanced toward them. Within seconds, she saw several of the eaters abandon their meals for the chance of “fast food,” as well.

Suddenly, Celia remembered what Mr. Lowensen had said in the classroom, scarcely a few hours earlier. “They’ll eat anything with flesh,” he said. “…they
always
prefer live meat… don’t think you can sneak past, that they’ll be satisfied with a stationary meal. They come after you.” At the time, Celia had considered that sentiment an empty warning, something the adults said to make them as “careful” as possible. Now, though, she saw the words were legitimate; the Z’s truly did prefer the thrill of the hunt.

Within seconds, Celia saw her father take down three more Z’s, a small group off to their left that was devouring a nearby body. Roger, meanwhile, cleared out the ones that were working on a body merely feet away — the body, she assumed, of the man who had tried to fool Roger into allowing him admittance into the classroom.

Stacy fired off a few shots, taking down one, and Simon got into the action as well, knocking off a few to the same side as the ones Andy had destroyed. Behind her, Celia heard several more gunshots, and saw Z’s falling all around, even as she heard the crying lady sob even harder. Suddenly, two young men not much older than Celia sprinted past toward the parking lot. She recognized them as the two excited brothers from the small family that had blockaded itself from anyone else, insisting on providing only for themselves. One of them carried a set of car keys, which jingled in his non-gun hand as he ran past. His partner laughed as he sprinted past, leveling one with a hurried shot that hit the onetime sunglasses wearer.

“Three!” the shooter cried joyously.

“I have two,” his brother called back with a bitter tone. “Would have more if I didn’t have the damn keys.”

“Give me the keys then!” the first said. “I don’t want any excuses when I win!”

The second boy laughed and ran ahead. The first one, though, ran a little too close to a downed zombie, the one that he had shot only seconds before. Unfortunately for the young man, the Z hadn’t really been stopped. The gunshot had grounded it, to be sure, but it hadn’t been aimed well, hadn’t truly ended the zombie’s non-life. After having fallen to the ground, the zombie suddenly reached out, grabbing the young man by the ankle and biting down hard.

“Jeremy!” his brother cried, dropping his keys and gun simultaneously. “Jeremy!” A few feet farther back, Celia heard the crying woman sob one last, tremendous sob and hit the ground. Based on what Celia could hear, Mr. Lowensen seemed to hit the ground behind her as well.

Jeremy cried out too, a pained, guttural noise that Celia couldn’t have imagined seconds earlier. He too, dropped his gun, as the zombie kept chewing on his leg.

After a few seconds of crying and shaking his leg to no avail, Jeremy suddenly stopped screaming and stood momentarily still. He dropped his head and his arms fell limp at his side, looking like a hanging crash-test dummy. And then, just as suddenly as he had been bitten, Jeremy’s head jerked up, and his now-white eyes searched around, looking for something else entirely.

“Jeremy!” his brother cried yet again, and he started to walk toward the now-zombie. From behind, Simon Stone pushed the boy forward, continuing him on his path toward the cars. Simon spared a second to once and for all end the sunglasses zombie’s existence before continuing toward the parking lot. The young man, Jeremy’s brother, looked behind him as his older brother’s body started to chase after them, limping due to the open gash in its leg.

Celia’s eyes were wide as she saw that there were three people in Jeremy’s path, not two. In addition to the obvious targets of the brother and Simon, the zombie Jeremy was following a path that would take it directly toward Celia’s father, who, having run ahead of everyone else, did not see the early-20s zombie coming up behind him.

The girl felt her hand shaking as she raised the heavy gun. Zombie Jeremy, which still limped after her father and the two young men, was still young, still fit, still fast despite its injury, and neither the brother, nor Simon, nor Celia’s father saw him gaining on them.

Celia pointed it at Jeremy. The Z was mere steps behind her father, who had gotten slowed down as he took out a group that crouched over another body, when she went to pull the trigger.

But she never did it. Celia’s brain willed her hand to take the shot, but her finger refused to clench, to take the action. All her practice had taught her was how to aim, not how to be okay with firing a gun, at actually shooting something. She didn’t care about the zombie, of course, but her finger didn’t get the memo, and Celia couldn’t make herself pull the trigger.

All the same, Celia heard a shot from her right, and saw Jeremy’s body fall. The zombie, a giant hole now in its head, finally lay still on the ground.

Celia looked to her right, where she saw Stacy, suddenly standing still, lower her gun from the direction where Jeremy had stood seconds before. The girl turned toward her almost-roommate. Her eyes were wide, but she had managed to pull the trigger when Celia couldn’t.

“Thank you,” Celia mouthed, and the two of them sped back up in their sprint to the cars.

Just ahead, Celia saw her father swing the unlocked door open. Celia jumped in beside him, and Stacy leapt in behind Andy. Not ten feet away, Celia saw the Stones reach their car, and the athletic-looking 50-something woman and her son joined them in their wagon. Several spaces away, the other family and the lone boy who was also a member of their party got into another vehicle.

Suddenly, the other back door of the Ehrens’ car opened. Celia spun in her seat and saw Mr. Lowensen leaping in and slamming the door behind him.

“We’re here,” the teacher said, breathless. Celia was shocked to see him; she had thought he had gone down around the same time as Jeremy, and didn’t think he’d have gotten back up in time to join them. But there he was, grabbing his seat belt and buckling himself in. Celia looked to her father, who nodded and put the key in the ignition.

Celia turned her attention to the window, looking out in terror, worried that a Z would try to make its way through at any minute.

She saw no zombies, though. Two cars away, however, she did see the young brother of Jeremy reach his car and try to open the door, with no success. He fished in both his pockets for the keys, apparently not remembering having dropped them after his brother’s death.

When the young man did finally realize his inability to enter his vehicle, he spun around helplessly, looking for his mother or another safe haven. Celia’s eyes followed his own, and saw the crying woman from earlier lying on the ground, beneath the bodies of two zombies that were working on her neck and midsection. The young man cried out again, then spun and looked toward other vehicles.

Most of them, though, were already pulling out of spaces. Curiously, she saw one car back out of its space, then accelerate back in. The driver and his son left the car there, jumping out of it and into the nearby car of a woman and her son Celia had seen them talking to in the classroom. She didn’t know what the point was of their short trip in the first car, but they were soon stowed away in the new vehicle and on their way.

From his car, the young brother of Jeremy saw the same hopelessness Celia did. He wasn’t going to find a ride. Sobbing, he fell back against his car, collapsing against his own panic.

Celia turned to her father. She saw that he had taken in the same scene she had, and he opened his mouth to speak. “Open the window,” Andy said. “We’ll take him—”

“We don’t have to,” Mr. Lowensen suddenly said from the seat behind Celia.

Andy turned to look at the teacher, anger in his face. “What do you mean? We can’t just leave him.”

The teacher flinched, just from Andy’s face and tone. “I didn’t mean that,” he said as though he were pleading his case. He reached into his pocket and raised his hand. “I just meant,” he continued, dangling keys, “that he could still drive himself. If he wants.”

Lowensen unbuckled his seat belt and opened the car door. He stepped out of the car. “Porter!”

The young man turned in surprise. When he saw the teacher, his face registered a mix of annoyance and panic, but he didn’t respond. “Porter!” the teacher said again, then held up the keys. The young man’s face suddenly slackened, and he reached out his hand. Mr. Lowensen lobbed the keys to him, and Porter took a step forward to catch them.

The teacher fell back into the vehicle and shut the door, buckling his seat belt back as he did.

“We good?” Andy said to his carload.

“Good, dad,” Celia said. “Just go!”

Andy pulled the car out of the parking space, among the last to leave the grounds of Morgan College. He fell in line behind the Stones’ car on the way out.

Celia turned in her seat and watched the young man, now truly alone, climb into his own vehicle. She saw him get into the car and shut the door, but she didn’t see the car start. As the line of cars slowed, funneling toward the exit, she saw his shoulders sag. The young man reopened his car door and exited the vehicle. He threw his keys to the ground and started walking back toward the bodies of Jeremy and his mother.

Andy didn’t stop the car. He drove toward the parking lot exit, past the cars whose owners had never made it back to them. As he passed the car that had been driven a few short feet before being re-abandoned, Celia noticed a zombie trapped under the right front tire. She didn’t know how the old man driving that car had managed to get in a situation where he could take the time to drive over a zombie before continuing on his way, but at least she now knew what he had been doing.

Jeremy’s brother’s plan, though, was less clear to her. He was walking back the way they had come, slowly and deliberately making his way to his mother and his brother.