Chapter: 2
I sat down and looked at Leila. I want to begin packing but I feel the procrastination setting in. Moments of procrastination hit me hard sometimes. It is never a good thing but most times they happen pretty quickly. This was different; I just sat there and stared into nothingness listening to the distant sound of the refrigerator’s hum. I look up and it had already been fifteen minutes. I know I should be packing but for some reason I just can’t bring myself to move. I feel the clock tick and life pass me. I can’t just sit here but I can’t bring myself to move. I am done with this struggle, I control my body nothing else. I push myself up from my chair and stumble. My foot is asleep and the pins and needles rush through it now making every step a hassle. I begin to regain myself and then walk towards the garage. In there I have my bag that I used to use for sleep away camp. It was pretty big and I could hold a lot in it. As I lower the ladder to get into the attic all of these memories of camp begin to rush into my mind and flow like a river. It almost seems like a dream. I miss each and every person; not like I knew all of them. It is mainly because that would mean they were still alive.
I wipe every one of those thoughts from my head. There is no time for them, I have to begin packing and get ready to leave. With the bag down I now have a real problem to think about what should I put in it? I look at the bag and know that I can hold a lot in it. It already has a blanket in it. But other than that it is just a lot of space that I can use. I cut my losses and get to work. Food and water come first all my food that is canned and fill as many empty bottles with water as I can and throw them in; as well as all of the silverware. I know silverware seems unimportant but it will give me a small sense of normalcy. In a world where nothing seems natural a little bit of normalcy can go a long way. Then I grab the giant bag of dog food and cat food. Great I have food. Now I can feed the zombies when they end my suffering and tear me limb from limb. Then something hits me, not literally, mentally. These thoughts are going to kill me and now that would just be selfish there are people who will depend on me. I can’t let them down. I perk myself up and grab some clothes. Its summer and I would prefer not to be covered in the same gross clothes everyday. Then I think about weather and how we may be on the road in the winter or cold and I need stuff for that. I grab boots and two jackets one for snow the other rain. Now looking at my bag I think I have most things so I grab knives. I have a lot but I really only use my projects. These are more for the purpose of back up. They are all old cooking knives some large some small but I have sharpened all of them. On some days I would find myself sitting there with one knife and my sharpener for hours. I just sit there lost in my own world. Now finally I grab a pillow for me and one for Leila. Next up is by back pack which I fill with some more weapons and food.
That is it I am fully packed. I begin going through the rooms boarding up the upstairs windows. The downstairs ones were already boarded up to prevent zombies but the top I left open so I could see the sun when I woke up. Then I check the downstairs and suddenly something stops me. I look in the glass cabinet by our old TV. There it is sitting there staring at me. It’s binding glistening with a light that seemed to be coming from it. It is my old siddur next to it a bible with English translations. I grab these two books and shove them in the bag.
Why would I bring a bible? How could I believe in a god right now? Would god allow the world to be destroyed like this? Then would he make me survive to witness all of this. I try to brush these thoughts out of my head but these ones are strong. I am staring at my reflection my hair is long curled up like how I used to like it but now with the large amount of stubble on my face and the bags under my eyes I look like some star-crazed lunatic. I can feel the anger building up. With every passing second I get sicker of my reflection. I want to look away but I can’t. My reflection is just staring back at me mocking my very existence. I lose control of my hand that has without my knowledge formed into a tight fist and I suddenly shoot it as hard as it can into the glass shattering it.
I look at my hand which now is bleeding from a few places; I chuckle to myself, it is more of a cynical chuckle than anything funny. I look back up at the shattered cabinet door. My reflection is gone but the image still sits fresh in my mind. It is an almost scary image. It must be changed.
I walk upstairs again, this time with my hand wrapped tight. I head into my room avoiding the mirror. I don’t need to destroy my other hand. That thought brings anther cynical chuckle from my mouth. I look into the drawers and pick out a new set of clothes. After everything is all set up and ready I strip down for a final shower and shave.
I ran out of gas about two months ago so I knew what to expect from the shower; nothing warm. I turned the warm water knob first then wait with my hand in with the slight hope that maybe something different will come from the head. Of course I was wrong but it is not like I really have high hopes. I am used to cold showers. To be quite honest I have come to enjoy them a bit. When I am in the shower that sudden rush of cold water hits me and seems to create an instant adrenaline rush that really wakes me up. When you can’t sleep a cold shower is a great way to stay alert.
After my shower I get out and stare at my hand which has finally stopped bleeding I look at the little jagged holes and scrapes which now riddle and disfigure the skin. They are pink and raw and even after the shower the scent of live blood still floats about the room. The infected can smell raw flesh from a mile and a half away. That means my hand could draw hundreds of them.
I stare intently at my hand then down at the bowl now filled with rubbing alcohol. Then like pulling a band-aid off, I quickly thrust my hand into the bowl. The burning sensation hits me hard and runs up my arm like an inferno. I feel every muscle in my arm contract and tighten up, every vein began to pop up and my face began to sweat.
This is not some sick way for me to see if I am still truly alive. I know I am, this is simply a way to burn the raw skin shut and get rid of the smell of blood. The idea is to avoid contact with the infected, not attract them all. I look at my phone with my other hand to find the time it has only been thirty seconds which feel like years. The worst part is the knowledge of having to do this for another minute. Time is moving so slowly almost as if to spite me saying “feel the pain, feel every horrid second of it.” I didn’t my whole arm went numb after a minute. The last thirty seconds went quicker because of this.
I stare now at this numb swollen hand which looks like it has been stung by ten bees and I laugh. This was not the cynical chuckle but a full on hysterical fit. I just thought that “This is my prize for living god?” Then the pain came back and with it greater laughter. The pain was real and I just could not help but laugh at it. Suddenly the laughter stopped dead in its tracks, as I saw it again in the mirror of the bathroom. I am staring at that disgusting reflection of a madman who was not Sam. He has to go.
I pull out the pair of scissors and began cutting away; watching as the locks fell to the floor. My hair began to take a new shape, shorter and clean. It was not long until the floor was littered with hair. Next was my face, I put on shaving cream and got to work with the usual feeling of cold metal running across my face. Time went quickly and when I was finally finished I looked at myself, I could honestly see Sam. He was real and he was me.
Now with all that done, it is time for Sam to get down to the real work. I have to get myself, my giant bag, my dog, and two cats into the car. The key is not to get bit. This is a simple task. Not really, I am trying to convince myself it is for the soul purpose of keeping spirits high. I sit here and look outside the window where the zombies are circling my garage moving over the dead body which lay at its base. I need to move them away so that I can get to my car which is sitting right in the middle of the driveway. I grab my key and push the auto unlock button and the horn goes off. Suddenly the zombies turn towards the car. Then I got an idea, I pushed the car alarm and all of the zombies began going towards the car. They completely disregarded the dead creature to go after my car. If I can use the horn to distract them from the garage I may be able to get in and out pretty quickly. I am going to bring Leila in first she is the oldest of my pets so I worry about how I will protect her when I walk her. By taking her out first then I will have little resistance from the infected. After that, what? I look and think that this plan will become more dangerous as time goes on. This dark idea begins to set slowly in my head. There is no way out of this. These words begin echoing in my head. I sat back down in my seat and I just tried not to cry. There must be a way out, I tell myself.
Looking out the window I try to bring something to life, some plan and then the gears turned out a smoky answer. Just go for it. My issue is that I have always liked to be sure before I did anything. This way I could do something risky while getting rid of all the risks involved in it. This was how I lived. But now, the risk was there and there was no way to avoid it. I hear barking from my feet; Leila is sitting there with her leash in her mouth. It is almost as though she is reading my thoughts and she is ready for the risks. If she could do it then I could. There is no more time to waste. I walk down to the garage and grab my projects.
There are only a few of them, the first two you have already seen, the woodpecker scythe and the war hammer. I fixed the length problem by making a second one so that I can move them both easier. The other three are my knuckle duster, a two inch blade which covers my knuckle. It is used for very close range combat. It focuses my punch to a point so that it can cut through a zombie’s throat. After that is an antique butcher knife and fork pack from India
Finally my last project was a chain whip. I made it from Leila’s old outdoor chain. I sharpened each link then screwed a blade from my pocket knife onto the end of it. It was never really met to fight the infected. I used it only once and it was against a person who broke into my house a month ago. He came in through the window in my brother’s old room. It is connected to the roof; when we were little we would go out and sit on it to see the stars. This man climbed up onto the roof and got in through the window. He was nothing like the woman I told you about before. He was what we called a “pirate” they were looters who took advantage of the infection to steal anything of value. There used to be a lot of them but one by one they each got what they deserved.
This one came in while I was downstairs feeding the cats. He was not very quiet; I guess he just thought that there would not be anyone in the house. I sat in the living room holding the dog, waiting for him with the chain in hand. He ruffled around upstairs for a while then I heard him walk down the stairs and turned toward the room I was sitting so patiently rocking back and forth in my family’s old rocking chair.
“Well, hi there friend,” I said sarcastically towards the pirate who now stood flabbergasted by my, well my existence “is there anything I can help you with friend?” I glued on a wide grin, my teeth each taking on a dark and dangerous appearance. I stood up from the rocking chair teeth still shining an almost sadistically cruel smile.
“Who the hell are you?” the frightened pirate sputters out almost too quickly to understand. I noticed him take a step back and reach into his pocket. I took a step forward, and he took another one back, his hand still concealing what was obviously a gun. Leila made her impression with a loud bark. Leila was honestly harmless with a bark much louder than her bite. To be honest she just wanted to make a new friend, but the sound was enough to get the pirate to draw his weapon. It was a Glock, a small caliber hand gun. I knew about them through studies. They carried 7 nine millimeter bullets and had an average size barrel. I could also tell he had never actually used it before. His hand shook at the wrist causing the barrel to not remain straight.
He fired; it was a wild shot with little to no aim. I looked at him the entire time and noticed his eyes were closed. I took that moment to let Leila go. She began to bark wildly at our uninvited guest. I then made my move and swung the chain towards his wrist. His blood began to flow and he screamed in pain.
He finally looked at me again. I kept that plastic smile on my face, bright and unfeeling. He reached for the gun with his uninjured hand dropping the bag of my valuables. I swung another shot cutting that wrist. He stood up to find me to close for comfort with the chain wrapped around my fist and that dark sadistic smile on my face. I punched him hard in the face with the chain, causing the blood to flow red from his face.
At that point he cut his losses and ran towards the stairs. I made sure to leave him with a parting gift as I took another swing catching his leg just above his Achilles tendon. I looked down and saw he forgot his gun. I stared at it and a funny thought came in my head. How will he fight without his Glock? So when I walked up the stairs and saw him climbing through the open window in my brother’s room, he saw me and began to rush. I tossed him his gun which he grabbed and kept running. I watched from the window as he climbed down the ladder.
I did not need to kill him. I honestly didn’t. That was the infecteds’ job. I told you that they could smell raw flesh from a mile and a half away. Well that was all I really needed. With in seconds the zombies were after him. I watched from the window as this man hopelessly attempted to outrun the undead. He wasted his last few shots on the undead missing the head every time. As the zombies grabbed at him, I saw him look up at me, where I stood in the window with that dark gruesome grin on my face. Then I closed the blinds and heard him give out a final shout in agony.
I wake up from the flash back standing in front of the garage door fully armed with Leila at my side ready to run. I look at my feet to see the decapitated body of this creature staring at me. Then look at Leila who is looking back waiting for me to move. I push the alarm button and hear as the infected move away from the garage. Then I push the trunk opener and wait a second. Then I take one last breath and push the garage door opener. The chains once again began to creek to life; sun began to streak across the ground filling the room with a yellowish glow. I could clearly see the car sitting in the sun, trunk open and alarm ringing loudly. There were ten zombies crashing and shouting at the car as if the vehicle will shout back. They were attracting others, I could hear them coming and I knew my time was limited. Rather than kill all of them I decided to take down the two standing scratching at the trunk.
The two were very different. The one on my left was very large and masculine, broad thick shoulders covered by a white t-shirt witch a hole in the back from where it looks like he was bitten. Next to him is what was, once a young girl. It was short and the thing could not have been older than eleven when she was bitten. The creature’s shirt is had at some point been pink but now is a rusty brown from blood and mud. The small zombie’s hair still tied up in pig tails. They are both facing away from me distracted by the alarm ringing in what seemed to be a distant land.
Suddenly I felt my legs begin to move without my mind controlling it. I took my first swing at the back of the head of the first creature puncturing its skull and sending the dark brown blood flying. His big body hit the ground quickly, getting the attention of the other nine. The little girl turn quickly, only for me to jab her with the butt end of the now blood soaked woodpecker scythe. This I followed with a vertical shot to the top of her head. The spike came crashing down through her skull and sticking out of it’s neck. A nice pull brought the spike out through her face. I jumped into the car Leila close behind. Pulling the trunk shut I turn off the alarm. I breathe heavily and sit there for what feels like hours. All sounds drain from the area and my mind goes blank. I stare at Leila as she barks at the infected. More begin to join the group. I am now up to twelve, not including the two I just took out. My body is shaking and Adrenaline is rolling through my body like a jolt to my heart. I begin to breath heavy and feel my chest going up and down in a melodic rhythm.
Leila jumps to the front sit and watches me as I furiously fold down the back chairs, showing the true size of my car. I smile as everything is folded and flat making almost a floor like back. With everything ready I look out the window and the number of infected now charging the car has grown immensely. I feel the fear begin to grip my chest, but quickly push it away. I breathe in heavily and open the trunk. My heart races as hands reach in and are knocked out do to the help of a knuckle duster. I jump from the car close the trunk. I use the momentum and swing with the knuckle duster breaking the jaw of the closest infected, a relatively large thing, fat with blood drooling all over his face and chest. Running I enter the garage and push the button to close it. Dropping the knuckle duster I prepare the war hammers for the few that may make it through. The first one is another small one that was once a child. His face showing a gross disfiguring scar from his bite. With one swipe to the skull the head goes crashing hard to the ground pooling in a puddle of brown blood. Following the small zombie are three more the big one with the now busted jaw, then two undamaged targets. Momentum is on my side now and I plan to keep it. With the first strike of the hammer to back of the head, the one with busted jaw skull shatters spraying the blood and bones across my face and clothing.
I move to pull it out to encounter the second member of the infected but I am stuck deep in the skull. I panic and use the other hammer to swing at the throat of the second infected tearing up muscle but it was not deep enough to kill. I drop both hammers and pull out the knife to finish the job. Jumping at the infected, the knife breaks the exposed vertebrae and decapitates the undead. Finally turning I pull the pitchfork and jam it through the eye sockets of the last zombie killing hitting the brain just enough to kill it with ease.
My breath is heavy. My body is caked blood and sweat. Yet everything seems to be in slow-motion as adrenaline rushes through my blood. I ache and shake but there is no time to stop. Pick up the blood covered weapons and I walk into the house. Cleo is sitting in the large bag on Leila’s bed. She seems quite comfortable and I don’t want to bother her. So I zip the bag up over her body. She begins moaning from inside the bag. Ignoring it I through the bag over my shoulders and strap myself to it. Next I walk to the freezer and begin throwing as much meat as I can into a small string bag. This should take away a few of the zombies but I am worried about my weight. I will be a lot slower this time. Fatigue has gotten to me as well as the weight of the bag pressing down on my spine.
With the bag full I walk to the garage and stand once again by the door as they crank and creak open. Shock and fear overwhelm all senses as I gaze into the hoard of the infected that number well over 40. The alarm is sounding yet they are after me already. My legs go stiff, I want to run, but my legs will not let me like I am glued to the spot. I want to run, I want to fight, and I want to live! I want to live!
My legs spring to life and I dive in to the crowd of the infected. Throwing myself at them one after another I move with a new found energy. Every time one falls two more take it’s place. In a last attempt I throw the bag of raw meat as far from the car as I can. Many turn towards it and begin a frantic charge to fight over the bag. The ones who stayed were distracted. I took this chance to dash towards the car taking down any in my path. The trunk opens and I hop in. Something grabs my leg, I turn and one member of the infected is desperately trying to chew off my ankle. I panic and unsheathe the blade on my back. Thrusting the knife through the hand brown blood began to flow. I was sick of seeing the blood already today. My body was covered in it. I smelled of it. I felt it warm against my skin like water.
Moving quickly I kicked the body out of the trunk and began shutting the trunk door. Another hand shoved its way through. I closed the door on the arm, then open and close it again; smashing it against the floor cracking the bone, again and again. I kicked it out and closed it finally.
I sit there lost for a moment. Sitting there staring out the back of the car as the undead push against the glass. All sounds begin to fade away. All except one my heartbeat, which is pushing heavily against my rib cage. The infected have a heart beat. It is soft and does not change. The sole purpose of this beat is to send their dirty blood around their body to give the virus more to feed off of. There is no feeling behind that slow rhythmic beat. There are no emotions they can call there on. For the undead the heart is nothing but a muscle; for me that beat was everything.
Leila barks and snaps me back into reality. I look around the car and see what is now an army of dysfunctional disfigured creatures slamming up against each other trying to get to a piece of meat. I am that meat. Jumping to the front I buckle in. “Safety first” I chuckle to myself as I hit the ignition and push the gas hard. The car rolls down the driveway followed by the mob of the infected. I hit the end of my street and turn right hitting the gas to go sixty.
The group slowly disappears in my rear view. I keep driving for a few more minutes. My head is reeling and shouting at me not to go back. Why turn around. I should never return to the swarm, back to this battle I do not want to fight. Yet there is one more animal in that house and it is mine. I will be god damned if I let my pet die that way. I hit the brakes hard causing Leila to fall forward in her seat next to me. I switch to reverse and turn the car back towards the house. I hit the gas hard and Leila lurches back in her seat knocking her off balance. Crying from the back as the bag turns over on its side. I make the left turn and go straight into the hoard of the undead.
The garage door opens in sync with the sounds of my car running over the infected. I smile as each body hits the dashboard then disappears under the wheels. It comes across as sadistic and cruel but these are not people. They were but now they are not. I feel no pity ending this waste of an existence and smile with every body I destroy. The car bumps and shakes over the decapitated bodies that litter the driveway. I pull into the garage too quickly barely avoiding crashing to the walls and door. I run out and hit the button closing it with as much force that I hear the plastic crack. I don’t stop hitting the cracked button. The door is closed but I am still smashing away at it.
The only thing which stops me is the pain when the button breaks and falls dangling by its wire. I look at it and feel silly when I realize I was screaming like a lunatic. My hand is bruising and it is warm to the touch. The sting is a distraction a way to procrastinate. I won’t stand for it. I open the door slamming it up against the wall. Babe is sitting there waiting for me. He knows we are leaving. I pull the cat crate out of the closet. It is a light blue plastic crate with a clear plastic top. There are three holes on each side so Babe could breath in it. I am putting him in this because he will try and run if I don’t. So I toss him in with a towel and close the top. The sound of his light voice comes from the crate as he tries to make his escape. I walk back to the car put the cat in the trunk and start it up.
“Mission one accomplished” I smile as a cynical laugh escapes my lips. The garage creaks to life for the last time and I back out quickly, taking down everything in my path. Hitting the bottom the car bounces and bobs and jumps. I switch to drive close the garage and speed off into the bright white abyss.
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