Maria pulled herself up over the edge of the attic floor. Patrick gripped onto her, using all the weight of his little body to pull her back, and the two collapsed onto the floor. When the first head came up through the attic, its dead eyes stared around until it found what it was looking for. Maria squeezed off the shotgun, sending a shot that demolished its skull. The dead’s head split into two pieces, still wobbling. Maria walked over to it, smashing the shotgun butt down into the bloody head, cracking its skull open. She put it out of its misery, and it went falling down to the dead waiting below.
She tried to pull the ladder up. The two were trapped in the attic, and Maria wasn't sure if she could make the jump down to the car below. She hadn’t planned for this.
Patrick, not waiting for her, ran to the only window in the small space. He pushed Christmas boxes out of the way so that the two of them would be able to get out onto the roof.
Maria said, “Now, Patrick, I want you to be careful. I know it's a very long way down from here, but I'll be right here and you'll be okay, honey.”
Patrick slid the window open like he’d done it a million times before. “You don’t have to worry about me, Aunt Maria, I come up here all the time. I love it up here. Heights don’t scare me at all.”
While she was relieved that he wasn’t scared, she shot daggers at the boy for breaking her rules. He was well aware that going up on the roof was a grounding offense from television for a very long time. She looked out over the street—even when they did make it to the car, driving through the streets was not going to be a simple task. She counted, thinking there had to be at least a few hundred of the dead.
Once she and Patrick were sitting on the roof, she saw the neighbor, Michelle, waving frantically at them from across the street. Michelle opened the second-story window and screamed across the street, “Maria, what in the hell is going on? They keep playing Jude over and over again on the news broadcast down from Missouri. He says you have to smash their heads open. What in God’s name is he talking about?”
Maria yelled back, “It is a very long story, but he's right.” She held up the shotgun, reminding herself at the same time to reload it
. “You can shoot them, but you have to use a couple of shells.”
The neighbor nodded slowly and said, “Yeah, we don’t have guns. Billie doesn’t believe in them. Billie is a dumbass.”
Maria gave her a thumbs up. “Do you think you could help us?”
Michelle shrugged. “What do you want us to do?”
Maria sat there for a second, looking at Patrick and at the long drop from the house. She said, “Patrick, honey, can you tell me, in all the times you’ve been up here, were there any easy ways to get off of the roof?”
Patrick looked almost annoyed at the question. He said, “Geez, Aunt Maria, of course there’s a way to get down. No good military man goes up on a roof without a plan to get down.”
Maria said, “You're wearing Scooby Doo underwear, Mr. military man. Let's try not to give me too hard of a time.”
Patrick hopped up, running over to the edge of the house and nearly giving his aunt a heart attack with each unworried step he took. He pointed over the edge, smiling. “We can take the plant ladder.”
She looked over the edge, much more nervous, and said, “You use the trellis to get down? What are you, a monkey?”
He tried to go over the edge to show her, not thinking about the dead below. Maria gripped him tight, pulling Patrick back up next to her. “Okay, Patrick, now we need to get the dead away from here so we can get down, run to the car, and drive away. I think your dad’s tent is a great idea, but I don’t see us having time to run into the garage.”
Patrick said, “I got an idea. You want them to go follow noise, right?”
Maria nodded slowly and Patrick said, “What about Dad’s fireworks? The ones he hides in the garage above the toolbox.”
“And how do you know about those?” Maria questioned.
“Because that's where he hides everything he doesn’t think I'm supposed to see. Which
—
you know what?
—
I got a question for you.”
Maria, who could just barely continue on with the day at this point, said, “What, what could you possible want to know in the middle of all of this, honey?”
“Why he has magazines where there’s girls in it, and they aren’t wearing nothing. Not even a towel, naked as can be. Who stands around at the beach naked? I don’t. I mean, taking a leak out in the middle of nowhere is one thing. But nak
—
”
She gripped his mouth. “I don’t have an answer, honey. Daddy apparently really needs a girlfriend. Let’s just focus on those fireworks for now
—
you can ask your father all the questions you want when he gets home.”
Patrick nodded, pulling her hand down away from his mouth. “I can get them, we just go through the garage and get 'em.”
Two minutes later, he was wiggling down into a second attic. Maria shone a flashlight around the garage. The dead from the house hadn't made their way in yet. Patrick was quick to point out where the magazines and fireworks were, and Maria grabbed the small bag of fireworks, the tent, and a cooler. She wanted to take a hundred things with her, but knew she wasn’t going to have time to pack up an entire trip in a matter of a few minutes. Jude had extra gear in the garage, and she took a belt, putting on a machete and a hatchet. Patrick, who couldn’t really grasp the severity of the situation, was in a fit of laughter at his aunt dressed like his dad and the boys. He said, “Oh, Daddy would laugh if he saw you.”
“Patrick, if I were you, honey, I’d shush it, and I’d do it now.”
As they left, Patrick grabbed the lighters, knowing she’d forgotten them, and the two took the new stash back up to the roof, where they would move on to her next part of the plan. When they got everything up there, she tossed the tent and cooler as close to the driver’s side of her Thunderbird as she could. With the bullets and guns in the duffle, the last thing she wanted to do was throw those down.
Patrick held out the lighter for her, and she said, “When those things run off to chase down that sound, you and I need to get down your little plant ladder, and we need to do so quickly!”
Patrick gave her a thumbs up, sitting with his feet dangling over the edge. Just then, Michelle came back out, screaming, “Can we come with you? Seems like the longer we wait, the more of them there are going to be.”
Maria said, “If you can get to the car, you can come with us. You go pack up your kitchen real quick, and I’ll wait a minute or two.”
Michelle disappeared, and she could be heard screaming at her husband, Billie, to go pack up all the food. A few minutes later, a thumbs up was given and Maria could see Billie’s outline at the entryway to their home, ready to go.
Patrick held out the biggest rocket first, with a smile that could not have been more genuine on his round face. She said, “You think we ought to start with the biggest one first, or should we work our way up? They might not move so quick if we start off with the big stuff first. What do you think, Patrick?”
Patrick looked at the bag of fireworks he was holding and took back the one he had originally handed her, exchanging it for a box of whistlers. Within a few minutes, she had lit off enough for a small-scale firework show, and the dead followed the sound. Patrick was practically jumping up and down by the time they got to the end of the bag. “It's time, it's time. Light the big one, Aunt Maria, light the big one, please!”
Even in the moments like this, right before they were going to put their lives on the line, she couldn’t help but smile, watching Patrick and his eyes light up. She knelt down next to him, holding the tube, and lit it. It went three blocks into the next neighborhood. She quickly realized what she had done, and prayed that the horde wouldn't kill one of her friends or a innocent person just waiting for help once they headed that way. She knew there were few options and didn’t think she would be judged too harshly.
The two got the bag and shotgun, and she scooted over the edge and let Patrick head down first. His small frame navigated the trellis like a pro. When he got to the ground, he waved frantically for her to come. Maria had misjudged the weight the trellis could handle, and with the bag full to the brim and her own weight, it snapped within the first two steps. She fell, watching like it was a bad dream, staring into the blue sky as she headed toward the ground. She hit hard, coughing as the wind was knocked out of her. From out of sight in the backyard, one of the dead came toward her. Maria looked to the side and saw a pair of men's boots shuffling her way; squinting up into the sun over its shoulder, she saw it wasn't a man, but one of the dead. Still trying to get her bearings back, she reached for the shotgun, then stopped. She had just sent ninety nine percent of the dead in another direction with the fireworks, and firing a shotgun now would only bring them back.
Patrick, by her side, yelled, “Get up, Aunt Maria, get up now! We gotta go.”
She nodded, rolling to her side and picking up the shotgun. When the dead was within a foot of her, she pulled the machete and brought it in sideways toward its face, slashing through its eyes. When she brought it back out, it had two eyes stuck to it. The dead moved its head around, confused, arms stretched out, trying to feel for her. She kept her distance and, when it was past her, brought the machete across the back of its ankles, cutting through its Achilles tendons. It fell to the ground instantly.
Patrick said, “Whoa, Aunt Maria, you’re like a ninja.”
She smiled awkwardly and said, “Close your eyes, honey.” When he partially did, she took the hatchet and brought it down three times into the dead's skull. The back of its head busted open and brains tumbled slowly out. She took a very deep breath, hoping she wasn’t going to puke. When she was fifty percent sure of her stomach, she ran back, gripping the heavy duffle and checking the opposite side of the fence. It was as good now as it ever would be. She swung the fence open, ushering Patrick through, and the two ran to the Thunderbird. She got Patrick secured and threw the tent and cooler in the trunk. She chose to keep the bag up front with them, knowing that, if she needed more shotgun shells, it’d be best if they had them handy.
Patrick looked around, wild-eyed, keeping a lookout while Maria got everything situated. She jumped into the car, turning the key in the ignition. It screeched like usual, echoing through the neighborhood before finally turning over, and the giant V8 came to life. Maria put it in gear, not worried about traffic, and floored it back out of the driveway. She looked to the neighbors
—
Michelle and Billie both had laundry baskets full of canned goods and groceries. When they got close enough, she hopped out, pushing the seat so they could get in the back. The two both yelled
thank you
as they tossed in their supplies and bags, and the four were off down the road.
Michelle said, “Thank you for taking us with you. We really appreciate it. Billie’s truck wasn’t running, or we’d have left a long-ass time ago. I’ve been telling him to fix it for two weeks now, and did he listen? No, of course not.”
“Look," Billie said. "It isn’t my fault it ain’t fixed yet— there’s this little thing called money that mechanics like to get. Until I get paid on Friday, I don't have anything but my good looks and you to barter with
—
of course, that paycheck might not do to much good anymore.”
Maria cut in, “You're both welcome. I’m glad you're okay. I wonder if a lot of people are still in town, or if they left after they saw the first of the dead?”
Michelle said, “Are we really better off leaving town? I mean, do you think we'll be safer on the road?”
“I’m not staying on the road, you two. All I'm doing is driving out to the country. I have a tent, and I have food and a cooler and some pots. We ought to have plenty, between the four of us, to be able to make a go of it out here for a few days. My brother-in-law, Jude, is going to be here before you know it.”
“Can you tell me why he was on the news down in Missouri chopping these things' heads off with a chainsaw?”
“I can’t say I have a good enough grasp on that to answer. All we know is he had a contract job down in Missouri; that’s where he’s been all week. The next thing I know, he calls and tells me that the dead are up. After the first rain, I saw people walking around who’d been laid to rest, and then I completely believed him. We were going to stay in the basement, but one saw me when I was trying to get supplies, and from there an entire horde broke through the windows to get into the house. There wasn’t much reason to stay there once that all happened. The basement windows aren't big enough for me to squeeze out of, and I can’t say letting Patrick go alone in the middle of all this on his own sounded like a great idea, either.”
Billie said, “How you doing up there, buddy? You doing okay?”
Patrick turned around in his seat and said, “There’s dead people walking all around, we're going camping, and we had a firework show
—
this is great!”
The two neighbors both nodded, unsure how someone could be so excited about this. Michelle said, “So we're just going to go out in the middle of nowhere and wait for Jude to find us?”
Maria said, “Yep, pretty much. I know the back roads Jude drives, and if we just set up on the side of the hill, this big-ass red tent he has is going to be more than enough to let him know we made it. Besides, with all the shit in the garage, he knows I can’t park in there, so if the car isn’t in the drive, it means we left, and that we were alive when we left.”