“What the hell smells like rotten eggs?” Lance asked, looking around.
“Shit if I know,” Ian said, trying the handle and finding it was locked. “Damn it, Ooops, quit beating off, and open the door,” he whispered harshly as another scream sounded outside.
“That was a woman,” Lance said, heading back to the stairs.
“That bitch better stay the fuck outside,” Ian whispered and followed Lance downstairs. He stopped as Lance didn’t head to the window but to the den. When he came back carrying the shotgun, Ian took off and grabbed the AR.
“Is one in the chamber?” Lance asked, slowly pumping the shotgun to load a round in the chamber.
“Hell no. We don’t store them with one in the pipe.”
“Get in the closet under the stairs, and rack one in,” Lance said, easing the slide forward, chambering the round.
“Why?”
“That damn thing is loud when you let the bolt go to load a round. We don’t want anyone out there to know we are in here.”
Nodding, Ian said, “Be back in a second,” and disappeared in the closet. Lance cringed upon hearing the bolt slam forward, but nothing outside looked toward them. “Shit, that was loud,” Ian said, coming out of the closet.
“I’m going to try and call my mom and dad,” Lance said, moving to the den.
Ian followed and asked, “What can they do?”
Lance spun around, snapping in a whisper, “They can tell me what the fuck to do? I don’t know of a merit badge that covers riot situations and defending your home and family.”
“I’ll keep watch as you call,” Ian said, moving to the front of the house.
“Don’t stand in the window; they could see you. Stand back in the shadows,” Lance said, walking in the den. He grabbed his phone off the coffee table and turned to see Allie snoring softly. Grabbing a blanket, he covered her up then thumbed his phone on and tapped his dad’s number.
“All circuits are busy; please try your call later,” a female computer voice told him.
“Fuck you, bitch; I want my mom and dad,” Lance said, tapping his mom’s number, but he got the same message. He walked over to the house phone and dialed his dad’s number and got the same reply. Groaning, he hung up and tried calling his house and heard the phone ring and the answering machine pick up after the fourth ring.
“Any luck?” Ian said, coming back to him.
Lance shook his head as he hung up the house phone. “You can’t call a cellphone. It says all circuits are busy.” He tried Ian’s dad’s number from his cellphone and got the same message.
“What the fuck do we do? What’s wrong with those people? I just watched them take down Ms. Kimble. I swear they were biting her,” Ian said, looking back toward the front of the house.
“How the hell am I supposed to know what to do?”
“Well, think of something,” Ian snapped as a scream sounded just outside the front of the house. “That was in the yard.”
“It better stay there,” Lance said, holding his shotgun in trembling hands.
“Someone needs help,” Ian said, moving to the windows.
Grabbing Ian’s arm, Lance spun him around and snapped in a low voice, “You better rectify, motherfucker. If we go out there, they will come in here. Think about it.”
“Someone needs help,” Ian said as another scream sounded.
“If we go out there, that will be us screaming then Allie.”
“Fine, let’s see who it is since we aren’t going to help,” Ian said as tears ran down his face.
“Ian, I want to help, but we can’t if we want to live through this shit.”
“I know, but it seems cowardly to be hiding like this.”
Shaking his head and moving up beside his friend, Lance said, “No, it’s smart, Ian. We think before we act.” They stopped several feet back from the window so they couldn’t be seen from outside and saw three men on top of a woman they had pinned to the ground. There was no denying it anymore when they watched one lean down and bite the woman’s shoulder.
“Oh my God, that’s Ms. Patricia from across the street,” Ian moaned as she fought off the group.
“That’s Mr. Kimble, his son, and Mr. Rodgers attacking her,” Lance mumbled as Patricia screamed again when Mr. Kimble bit her arm, tearing away a chunk of meat. Ian puked as blood shot out of Patricia’s arm, and she screamed.
Feeling dizzy and his legs getting weak, Lance bent over and puked beside Ian as Patricia screamed again. Leaning up, Ian ran his forearm across his mouth. “I’m going to shoot Jason’s damn lock off,” he mumbled as Lance stood up beside him.
“Look, she’s getting away,” Lance said, grabbing his arm.
Patricia was on her feet, hitting her attackers with everything she was worth. They heard glass breaking upstairs, and a loud
thump
hit the roof over the porch. “They climbed up to Jason’s window?” Ian asked, stepping away and turning to run upstairs as a figure fell off the porch roof and landed hard. The porch was several feet off the ground, and they watched as the figure slowly stood up.
“Oh fuck me,” Lance said, backing up and watching Jason stand, lunge toward Patricia, and grab her shoulders. Picking her up off the ground, he pulled her to his face as Patricia screamed. They watched Jason’s face dive at Patricia’s neck, and the scream cut off like a switch.
When Jason pulled his head back, a fountain of blood shot in the air in spurts as Patricia’s mouth moved, but nothing came out. They both saw the huge hole Jason had bitten in her neck. “Why did Jason attack her?” Ian asked, moving to the front door.
Lance grabbed his arm. “Before you open that door, let me get Allie out of here.”
“That’s my brother,” Ian snapped.
“He’s like the others now; he just killed Ms. Patricia.”
“Maybe she did something to him,” Ian said, looking back outside with tears now pouring out of his eyes.
“Leave my wife alone!” they heard outside.
They turned to see Ms. Patricia’s husband run at Jason with a bat. He cracked Jason across the head, and Jason’s massive body didn’t budge but he did drop Patricia. Jason spun to his attacker and lunged, catching Patricia’s husband and taking him to the ground. Patricia’s husband wasn’t much bigger than either of the boys, and Jason’s enormous body smothered him. Jason lowered his head as the man fought back feebly.
“He’s killing him,” Ian sobbed quietly.
Not looking away from the grotesque scene, Lance put a hand on Ian’s shoulder and felt his body shake as he cried softly. “I loved Jason too,” Lance said, catching his breath as tears ran down his face.
“How? He was just talking to us,” Ian sobbed, looking up as Patricia’s husband stopped screaming as others dove on the pile.
Pulling Ian back as more came into the yard, it suddenly hit Lance. “He was bit.”
“You need to stop, Lance. This isn’t a zombie movie or game. How did this infect Jason?”
“Then how do you explain it? Ian, he just walked off the roof over the porch,” Lance said, looking outside as Jason stood up. “He broke his leg,” Lance said, pointing.
Ian looked out at his brother and noticed his right leg was bent at a weird angle, but that didn’t seem to bother Jason as he hobbled down the street. Another scream sounded. “That’s not my brother anymore,” Ian said, wiping the tears off his face.
“I’m going to check Jason’s room,” Lance said, moving toward the stairs, and Ian followed. “No, one of us needs to stay down here in case one gets in. Allie’s alone.”
“I’ll stay,” Ian said with a snorting sob.
“I’ll be right back,” Lance said, turning for the stairs. “Why didn’t the alarm go off when the window upstairs broke?”
“None of the windows upstairs are alarmed,” Ian said, moving to the den. “I’m going to wake Allie in case we need to move fast.”
Thinking that was a good idea but not liking it, Lance nodded as he eased upstairs, bringing the shotgun up to his shoulder. As he reached Jason’s door, the rotten egg smell made his eyes water. Trying the door and still finding it locked, Lance went to Ian’s room and dug in his backpack, pulling out a pocket knife.
Moving back to Jason’s door, Lance drove the blade between the latch and door frame and pried as he pushed on the door. A loud
ping
sounded as the door flew open. Startled, Lance brought up the shotgun as his eyes watered from the smell. “There’s no sulfur here, so where the hell is the smell coming from?” he mumbled, seeing Jason’s empty bed and the busted window.
Easing closer and looking down the street, he saw Jason’s massive form heading to a house past Doug’s with a large group. Looking off toward town, Lance saw fires off in the distance and could hear lots of gunfire way off with the open window. He left the room and closed the door then looked down and saw he had broken the blade of his pocket knife. “Told Dad that was a cheap knife.”
Lance moved down the stairs slowly then went back to the window and jumped upon seeing Patricia stand up and look around. Lance felt warmth running down his leg as Patricia turned around, hearing screams from the direction where Jason had led the group. In a shuffling trot, she headed after them.
Feeling numb, Lance panted as he turned, heading for the den. Ian was sitting on the couch, holding a quietly crying Allie. Seeing Lance come in pale and panting, Ian moved his hand to his AR. “What’s wrong?”
Lance’s mouth moved, but nothing was coming out, and Ian got between Lance and Allie. “Ms. Patricia,” Lance finally whispered in rapid breaths.
Relaxing, Ian said, “I know, Lance. I was there.”
“She got up and trotted off,” Lance whispered.
“Lance, she couldn’t have,” Ian said, looking down at Lance’s legs. “Dude, did you piss your pants?”
“She just trotted off.”
Ian looked at his sister. “Allie, I’m going to sit Lance down on the couch. I want you to sit with him until I get back,” Ian said, and Allie nodded with tears running down her face. Moving over, guiding Lance to the couch and sitting him down, Ian moved to the front windows and caught his breath, looking where Patricia had been laying, but she wasn’t there.
Seeing movement, Ian turned to see Patricia’s husband stand up, missing his left arm. As his body started to tremble, Ian felt his leg get warm. He darted back to the den, closed the door, and sat down beside Lance with Allie in his lap. “She just trotted off,” Lance whispered.
“So did her husband,” Ian whimpered as Allie buried her face in Lance’s chest.
Chapter 5
March 12
The two just sat staring at the blank projection screen, and Allie kept her face buried in Lance’s chest as gunshots and screams sounded around the neighborhood at an increasing rate. Only one small table lamp was on in the den, casting a soft, dull light. It was over an hour later when little Allie lifted her head from Lance’s chest, looking up at his face.
“Is Carrie okay?” she asked in a broken voice.
Blinking as the little voice broke his trance, Lance looked down. “I don’t know, Allie.”
“Can I call her?”
Ian looked over at Allie in Lance’s lap. “Allie, phones are really loud. If you call them, the sick people on the street may hear it and try to get in their house.”
“Holy shit!” Lance said, jumping up and wrapping his arms around Allie. “You’re right; we have to turn off the phones here.”
Feeling Lance’s panic, Ian jumped up as the small lamp in the room turned off, and the room plunged into darkness. Allie gave a yelp, and Lance put a hand over her mouth. “Solves that problem,” Ian said, looking around and seeing all the electronics’ lights off.
“Flashlights?” Lance asked, taking his hand off Allie’s mouth.
“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Ian snapped. “Let everyone outside see lights waving around inside.”
Lance took several deep breaths to slow his heart rate. “Ian, we need to have some on us in case we need to move fast or find stuff,” he said as his vision adjusted to the dim room.
“You goddamn kids get home, and quit tearing up the neighborhood!” they heard from the front of the house.
Shaking his head, Ian looked over at Lance. “I can’t believe that Mr. Oliver is that stupid.”
Leaning down, Lance tried to put Allie on the couch, but she wouldn’t unwrap her arms from his neck or her legs from his waist. “Allie, I need you to stay on the couch so we can go see what’s happening,” Lance asked in a pleading voice.
“Don’t leave me,” she whimpered, burying her face.
Lance looked at Ian, who just shrugged. “Okay, Allie, but you can’t yell or scream no matter what happens, or the sick people will come after us,” Lance told her, rubbing her back. Allie just nodded as he moved her to his left side, wrapping his left arm around her, and grabbed the shotgun with his right.
“If something happens, I’ll cover while you get her out, and I’ll follow,” Ian said, bringing his rifle up.
Lance nodded. “If something happens, we meet up at my house. You know the alarm code,” he said as Ian led them out of the den to the living room.
“I mean it, you little spawns of Satan. Get home now!” Mr. Oliver yelled outside.
As they eased up to the windows, they saw Mr. Oliver in their front yard holding a golf club in one hand and a revolver in the other. “That asshole is in my yard,” Ian hissed.
“We’ll let it slide today, brother,” Lance said, looking across the street to see seven kids of various ages trotting toward Mr. Oliver. “Hope he knows how to shoot.”
“That man only knows how to bitch,” Ian said as Mr. Oliver raised his pistol.
Bang
sounded as Mr. Oliver pulled the trigger, lighting the area in front of him for a brief second. They watched the bullet hit ten-year-old Benny in the chest. He only stumbled back half a step then continued forward. “Benny didn’t even feel that,” Ian said.
As Allie buried her face tighter in Lance’s neck, tears ran down all their cheeks. They knew these kids attacking Mr. Oliver and had played with them.
Bang
sounded as Mr. Oliver shot Benny again, hitting him in the shoulder and making him stagger for half a second. As he staggered, Mr. Oliver moved over, raising his golf club and swinging it down hard, hitting Benny in the head. Even inside, they heard the
thunk
of the impact.
“He may shoot for shit, but he has a hell of a swing,” Ian said, wiping his face off as Benny dropped to the ground.
Turning to the next kid, Mr. Oliver raised his revolver and pulled the trigger. Tony Jenkins, a friend of Ian and Lance, dropped as the bullet slammed into his face. “Have to hit them in the head,” Lance mumbled as Allie started whimpering. “Shhh, Allie,” Lance cooed, leaning his head over on hers.
As Mr. Oliver aimed at the next kid approaching him, Ian shook his head. “I wonder if Mr. Oliver knows he doesn’t have enough bullets for the ones coming at him?”
Bang
sounded as Mr. Oliver pulled the trigger, dropping eleven-year-old Alicia Cooper from the next street over. “More are coming,” Lance said raising the shotgun and pointing out the side window down the street from Carrie’s. “He subtracts, and they add. Addition is going to win this round.”
A scream erupted in the front yard, and they whipped their heads around to see Benny latched on Mr. Oliver’s leg. Raising his golf club, Mr. Oliver started whaling away, screaming in pain, as Benny pulled his head from Mr. Oliver’s calf. The tan pants turned dark around the area Benny had bit as blood poured out of the wound.
“He’s getting side-tracked, forgetting the other threats,” Ian mumbled, watching the other kids close in.
Squeezing Allie tighter as her body shook with quiet sobs, Lance shook his head. “Donnie is going to take him down,” Lance said, closing his eyes. Donnie was sixteen and lived two streets over. They had played basketball with him many times and liked him a lot.
When Donnie was several yards away from Mr. Oliver, he lunged through the air, hitting the old man in the chest and taking him down. Lance closed his eyes as Donnie latched on Mr. Oliver’s neck. Hearing another bang, Lance opened his eyes to see Donnie roll off Mr. Oliver, and the old man lowered his pistol to Benny’s head, which jerked back as he pulled the trigger.
Mr. Oliver used his golf club like a cane to get up, raising his pistol at Casey Emmerson. Inside, they barely heard the click as the hammer snapped down on a spent shell. Mr. Oliver stumbled back as he opened the cylinder, releasing the empty brass. Dropping his golf club, he dug in his pocket then slid shells in the cylinder. “Don’t think that was a good idea to drop his club,” Ian said in a dead tone.
“They’re multiplying now, and he’s still subtracting,” Lance said as they heard a female voice yell.
“Lawrence, get back in the house!”
“That’s not good,” Ian said, looking out the window as Mrs. Oliver trotted over to her husband carrying a broom.
“Not the way they need to add,” Lance said as Mrs. Oliver hit Larry Anderson across the face with her broom.
“Get back in the house, woman. These kids have gone crazy!” Mr. Oliver yelled, closing the cylinder. Mrs. Oliver ran forward and did a good job of knocking the kids down with her broom. Mr. Oliver turned to see four adults and five kids coming at them from the street. In an amazing incident, he raised his pistol and dropped the four adults with four shots.
He missed one kid but knocked down another as his wife continued whaling away on the kids she had down in the yard. Seeing the new kids coming, she ran over and knocked them down.
“That woman uses a broom like a samurai,” Lance said with no emotion as Mr. Oliver popped the cylinder open, dropping the brass out. They could tell Mrs. Oliver’s swings were getting weaker as they watched then turned back to Mr. Oliver as he screamed. Kenny Wells had him on the ground, biting his neck.
“Get off him!” Mrs. Oliver shrieked, charging over then hitting Kenny with her broom.
A young scream from Carrie’s house made them jump and turn, looking out the side windows. Allie lifted her head. “That’s Jennifer.”
They saw Jennifer running across her porch into the house, slamming the door with several sick people behind her. “We have to help,” Ian said, lifting his rifle.
“Dude, think with your big head,” Lance said, pushing Ian as he held Allie. “You shoot, and those fuckers are coming in here. You have one magazine, and I have seven in the tube and five on the rack. They add faster than we could subtract.”
“Man, that’s Jennifer,” Ian moaned.
“We have to help them so Carrie can get over here,” Allie whimpered.
Trying to think, Lance looked at the AR. “Allie, get down for a minute,” he said, lowering her. “Here, Ian; take this, and give me the AR. I have an idea,” Lance said, holding out the shotgun.
Lifting the one-point sling over his head, Ian passed the AR over and took the shotgun. Lance lifted the rifle up to his shoulder and thumbed the laser on the fore grip on. A green dot showed up on Jennifer’s house, and he aimed it at a window, moved it erratically, then moved to another window and did the same thing.
Suddenly, Jennifer was looking out the window he was aiming the laser at. Lance lowered the gun and stepped next to the window, pointing to the back of the house then down at his feet then at Jennifer. He repeated it twice, and Jennifer nodded and disappeared from the window.
“Allie, go to the den, and cover up, and no matter what, don’t come out or make any noise. We have to help them get inside. Ian, get by the back door, and look out back, and see if you see any sick people. I’ll be there in a second,” Lance said as Mrs. Oliver screamed from the front yard.
As Allie took off to the den and Ian to the back door, Lance glanced out front to see a pile of sick people, mostly kids he knew. He couldn’t even see Mr. and Mrs. Oliver. “Poetic justice I guess,” he mumbled, looking over at Jennifer’s house to see sick people moving toward it with several on the porch, banging on the door and windows.
Seeing movement out to the corner of his eye, he turned to see Jennifer and Carrie at the back corner of their house, looking around. He took off to the back door to see Ian with the shotgun slung across his back and his aluminum baseball bat in his hands.
“See anything?” Lance said, grabbing the door handle, and Ian shook his head. Ian reached up, tapping the alarm button so they could open the door without it going off.
“If any are close, I’ll use this. They seem to like noise,” Ian said as Lance eased the door open. They stepped outside and saw Jennifer and Carrie running toward them. They both shook their heads as the smell of rotten eggs overtook them.
As Jennifer and Carrie ran behind the house, Lance pointed at the back door, keeping the AR pulled up to his shoulder but aimed at the ground. The two girls blew past them so fast they felt a breeze.
“Ian, inside,” Lance barely whispered. Ian nodded and moved inside as Lance backed up, scanning the yard and looking over at Mr. Oliver’s backyard to see the privacy fence that surrounded Lance’s back yard. Seeing someone in Mr. Oliver’s yard, Lance stepped back inside as Ian closed the door.
As Jennifer moved toward them, Lance held up his hand. “Let’s get in the den. I saw someone in Mr. Oliver’s backyard. There are too many windows in the kitchen.”
Ian moved past Lance and herded Jennifer and Carrie into the den. When Allie lifted her head off the couch with the blanket over her, she saw Carrie, and they rushed at each other, wrapping their arms around each other and sobbing quietly.
“Jennifer, where are your parents?” Ian asked.
“They were in Nashville at a banquet. They called me around eleven and said the police wouldn’t let them leave since the riots had moved downtown. I tried calling back, but I just keep getting a recording,” she said, hugging herself.
Lance nodded as Ian smiled at Jennifer. Shaking his head as he looked at her, Lance saw she was barefoot and wearing tight sleeping shorts with a skimpy top with her hair pulled back. Reminding himself that her dad worked for the Attorney General, Lance turned away.
“Thank you,” she said, stepping over and hugging Ian. Even in the dim light, Lance could see the blush on Ian’s cheeks. Then, Jennifer let Ian go and hugged Lance, and he felt his face get warm. “I thought we were dead.”
“What made you go outside?” Ian asked as they all heard glass breaking and the snapping of boards from her house next door.
A shiver ran down Jennifer’s spine. “I saw Ginger and was going to tell her to get off the streets. Then, I saw her run at Mrs. Oliver. Then, I heard a growl from the yard and saw Tony coming at me. It was Carrie who saw the green dot shining on the wall as I pushed the couch in front of the door.”
Lance turned to Ian. “Where are yours and Allie’s go bags?”
“Under the stairs where they’re supposed to be,” Ian said, pulling the shotgun off his back.
“Get them in case we have to book. I’m going to get my backpack from upstairs so we can get some more ammo,” Lance said, turning to Jennifer. “You stay here with them, and for God’s sake, be quiet.”
Jennifer moved over, pulling the two girls to the couch, and sat down with them as Lance and Ian took off. Lance ran upstairs, glancing out the front window, and felt his pulse pick up upon seeing a mob of people just standing around. “Not good,” he mumbled, reaching the top of the stairs.
Dumping his books out, Lance saw his laptop, iPod, and tablet. He grabbed them and tossed them in the bag then looked around the room. Seeing the staff Ian practiced with for kenpo, Lance grabbed it as he pulled on his backpack. Turning around, he saw the backpack Ian used for Boy Scout camping trips in the closet. He grabbed it and smiled, feeling it was loaded. He and Ian always cleaned their gear and repacked it so they wouldn’t have to look around for their stuff.