After the firefight at the roadblock all the boys in
blue and their mish-mosh of friends and neighbors remained on edge.
All with a multitude of different reasons, and some with no reason
other than the obvious. There were too many questions with too
little answers and nothing was making sense. There had easily been
a hundred of those things descending upon their home, New Haven.
They had every right to feel relief, yet they didn’t feel it. Most
of them were bewildered. Many of them thought that if they had been
dead once before, what was to stop them from getting up after dying
again. They had no reassurances. The best they could do was to put
these dead things into such ill-repair that it would be impossible
for them to move at all afterwards. Would these things stay dead
now, they wondered? But no one knew.
Dead used to mean dead. No one knew what it meant
anymore. No one knew if it would ever stop. No one knew if things
would ever be normal again, or how many more of those things were
walking to town now. No one knew anything.
To play it safe, Sheriff Davis had been instructing
everyone to incinerate the bodies as best as possible. There had
been no reports of the undead reanimating multiple times, but Davis
wasn’t going to give these things the chance to. In Davis’s eyes
the news was always bullshit, and biased bullshit at that, he
didn’t think there were any real journalists left on earth, but it
would seem that they were at least partly right about recent
events. The recently deceased were returning to life, in some sense
of the word, though not all. The news had plenty of halfcocked
ideas; a form of human rabies, mass psychosis, murder cults. The
speculative fiction grew wilder from channel to channel. The only
thing Davis and the plethora of news men and women agreed upon were
the means of which to permanently dispatch the dearly departed;
destroy the brain or incinerate the bodies. He’d been doing both
with a mild sense of satisfaction since the first time he witnessed
one of the deaders stumbling through town.
Plumes of dark velvety smoke filled the air. It
blocked sight of the setting sun, and Davis’s men were choking on
it. The smell was unreal. It was a mix of barbecue, without the
sweet, and week-old summer road kill. Ash clung to their skin and
mingled with their sweat, turning it into a muddy second skin. The
steady, smooth, feathery rainfall helped to peel it away, but not
by much. They dragged the bodies of the dead closer together and
set them to flame. The rain made it tougher, but they eventually
took to it and burned up all the same. What was left of the dead
looked like it crawled from out of the black top. Some of the
bodies burned brighter than others, and when someone pointed it out
Davis told them why.
“
Women burn brighter, I heard.
Something about a higher fat ratio.”
Back at Jeff’s house, the kids were falling asleep
upstairs as Maria stayed with them to make sure they did so
quickly. Then the adults could talk freely without fear of
terrifying their children further, though Jeff and his family did a
good job at keeping them sheltered from what was really happening.
The kids just thought that people were sick with a new kind of flu,
and that they had to stay home and away from other people. They
didn’t mind it much, and loved not having to go to school, but
occasionally they’d get stir crazy and bored. The soft sound of
rain on the roof helped to muffle the noise from downstairs; the
yawning, the tapping of hands, and the beginnings of conversations
that would abruptly end as they waited for Maria. The radio hadn’t
come back on, and stations had been going on and off before
(usually with notice). But this time it was without warning--just
white noise and jittered scrambles. Walter suggested that they
would take to the road and start broadcasting from a mobile
unit.
Walter was known for his hope however, even in the
worst of situations. But his son was another story altogether.
Maria quietly crept down the stairs and into the family room.
“
What did I miss?” Maria
asked.
“
Nothing really, just talking
about the radio stations,” Walter replied.
Maria snuggled up next to Jeff. She held him close
and he reciprocated. The light rain was consistent, with no
lightning or thunder at the moment.
“
So do we sit here and wait?” Jeff
asked.
“
What else can we do?” Barbara
asked.
“
We’re not going to any safe
zones, and we’re not going near the city. We’re staying put unless
we have no other choice but to leave, we’ve got everything we need
right here,” Walter grumped.
“
No, definitely not, that’s not an
option,” his son agreed.
“
We have no communication with
anyone outside of town. We have no idea what’s really going on out
there. There’s no reason we should leave” Laura said.
“
Agreed,” said Maria.
“
That’s all well and good, but how
long till we run out of food?” Walter asked.
“
I’m more worried about the next
few days. We can last at least two weeks till we need food. I want
to know what the hell is going on out there that would make a dead
man get up and walk,” Jeff spewed. “What if these things show up
here? We don’t have many weapons. And what if it is a disease like
some people are saying? I don’t want to mess with that, I certainly
don’t want the kids exposed to it.”
“
We can go see Davis tomorrow.
He’s dealt with these things already. Maybe get a walkie-talkie,
see what him and the boys are doing to keep everybody safe. Maybe
they heard something. Maybe we can see what the deal is with the
power,” said Walter.
“
We can’t depend on them. They
have to look out for themselves and their families. We should
definitely talk to them…I just wish the news or the radio would
come on and give us some the answers,” Maria began to
cry.
Jeff held her tightly “I know babe, I know.”
“
There’s so much we don’t know,”
Barbara said.
“
We’re in the dark on this one,
literally. You should all get some sleep. I’ll take first watch and
when the sun comes up, Jeff and I will go see what Davis has to
say,” Walter stood up and walked toward the window nearest the
front door. He was done with the conversation, and had said what he
needed to say and that was that. They weren’t leaving, so the only
thing he needed to do now was keep them safe, and that meant
keeping an eye on what was walking around outside. From what he
could see there was nothing right now, but he knew it wouldn’t stay
that way, not for long anyway.
Nobody argued. Jeff walked Maria up the stairs to
the kids’ room. Laura and Barbara both went to Walter’s side. Laura
held him and Barbara peeked out the windows with her arms crossed
and a chill sitting firmly on her spine. Maria nudged her way onto
one of the beds. The beds were both pushed together so the kids
could be closer to each other. Jeff kissed her and looked at his
kids. He looked around the room, looked at the boarded up window
and then back to his kids. Maria and he locked eyes for a moment
and then Jeff walked out of the room and back down the stairs.
Laura started toward the stairs as Jeff was halfway
down them. She put her hand on the dark wood rail that would guide
her to her room, only a few feet from Maria and the kids. Jeff said
goodnight to his mother and made his way to his fathers’ side,
putting his arm around his sister.
Barbara was scared and felt alone. She had her
family but lacked the intimacy that Jeff and Maria had with each
other, or her parents for that matter. She had recently removed
herself from a long-term relationship with her high school
sweetheart that was going nowhere. She was finishing up her last
year of college and looking forward to an engagement that never
happened. She wondered if her ex was thinking as much about her as
she was of him. At least she felt safe, that much she was sure of,
if nothing else.
The three of them paced around for a bit and when
Barbara grew tired she left them for the comforts of the guest
room, which oddly enough had some of her old furniture from her old
bedroom at her parents’ place. Jeff used most of his and his
sister’s furniture to furnish the home when they first bought. No
matter what room it was in, just seeing her old dresser took her
back to simpler times.
CHAPTER 7: Blood and a
sh
Morning came quickly for the Caulfields, and before
Jeff could fully wake up, Walter stood over him. Jeff’s eyes were
partially sealed shut with crust and lack of sleep but after seeing
his father hanging over him he forced them to open. It reminded him
of when he still lived with his parents and his father would wake
him up early to go fishing on occasion down at Johnson’s Lake. How
he wished his father had a fishing pole in his hand. He did not,
only the look of determination. He had something to do, and he
planned on doing it.
He sat up and said, “I’ll be down in a minute.”
Fifteen minutes later Jeff groggily came down the
stairs. Barbara and Laura were sitting with Walter at the kitchen
table and smiled at the sorry site that was Jeff upon his arrival
at the foot of the stairs. He smiled back, “you ready or what,” he
called to his father.
“
Wise-ass, let’s go,” Walter
said.
Next to the family van, which was loaded up in case
they needed to leave, was Walter’s pick up truck. It was old and
dirty but more reliable than anything he had ever owned before or
since. They climbed in and drove off. Jeff searched the radio dial
for a station but found nothing but the sound of static. He kept it
on in case something broke through the noise. Walter found it
irritating but couldn’t find a better reason to shut it off. They
drove south on Mokar Street and headed into town.
The town was empty. A few cars remained parked in
their usual spots and every storefront worth its window was boarded
up and marked as ‘closed till further notice’. Walter found this
hilarious, as if the boarded up windows didn’t sufficiently state
that the store was not open. They made a left down Roosevelt Street
and pulled up in front of the police station. There were rows of
trucks and cars haphazardly parked all over the street. The
vehicles smelled of burnt rubber and overcooked bacon and looked as
if they mistakenly drove through a slaughterhouse instead of a
carwash. There wasn’t a spot on any of the vehicles that wasn’t
covered in blood and ash.
They entered the station and walked into a whirlwind
of harried conversations and manic rantings. Upon the door opening,
every wild-eyed man in the room swung their head to look in their
direction. After they recognized Walter and his son, and realized
they were of the living, breathing variety, they nodded and turned
back to their ramblings. Walter searched the crowd for Sheriff
Davis and found him heading directly toward them but looked like he
might plow right through them. He was carrying his jacket in one
hand and a cup of tea in the other.
“
Really fucking busy right now,”
Davis said as he brushed past them.
“
You heard anything, Bruce,”
Walter asked.
“
You don’t want to know what I’ve
been hearing Walt. Crazy shit. End of the human race kind of shit,”
Davis said.
“
Well,” Jeff piped up.
“
Well, besides the hell that was
last night, I hear on the ham this morning that L.A. was bombed,
probably terrorists but who the fuck knows. Don’t know if it was
one bomb, car bombs, dirty bombs—as usual we’re in the dark. But
it’s getting even darker, if someone’s dropping nukes, shit—I don’t
even want to think about it!” Davis walked toward his
truck.
“
Shit,” Walter said.
“
Yeah, shit is right,” Davis
replied.
Davis started his beast of a truck and rode off as
he left the two men dumbfounded on the side of the road. Their
thoughts were heavier than wet sandbags on a baby’s back. The city
of angels was wing-clipped. As if dealing with dead folk who
refused to die wasn’t enough, now they had to think of the
additional tragedies that were befalling the West coast and what if
it was happening elsewhere. They were close enough to Titan City
and New York City was only a stone’s throw from there. If something
were to happen it could have an effect on New Haven. Being a small
town had its advantages but escaping big disasters wasn’t
necessarily one of them. They had family and friends in those
cities.
Walter and Jeff solemnly walked back to the truck.
The static didn’t bother Walter at all this time—he was relieved to
be hearing anything. They drove toward the North roadblock, slowly
following behind Davis (Walter didn’t exactly want to go back home
just yet and felt if he lingered around Davis and his men he’d be
able to get some more info out of them) and from a mile away they
could smell nothing but acrid smoke. The smoke dug into their
nostrils and planted roots. By the time they got to the actual
roadblock they could see what made the smell. Hundreds of bodies
lie strewn about in horrific poses. Their flesh and bone were
charred black as tar. It looked as if the black top itself was
giving birth to the most macabre of Halloween mannequins. Adjacent
to the road were lines of cars. Most of the cars looked to have
sale signs from George’s Lot stuck to the windshields. Davis and
his men set up a barricade of used but guaranteed to run steel.
They saw many familiar faces behind the vehicles,
many of them taking aim on things that looked like people in the
distance. They weren’t people however, not anymore at least—they
were dead, all messed up and moving forward.