Chapter 3
Finally clear of the infected my body begins to return to its natural state. The adrenaline which allowed my body to move through the battle is drained. All the pain begins to show. Throughout my body muscles contract and expand shaking without control. I pullover on the side of the road, not to far from the house which I have just made an escape from. I turn the car off and climb into the back and unzip the bag freeing Cleo who winces at the light. The world around me is spinning and I can physically not breathe. I crawl over towards Leila, she immediately licks my face. I smile at her and then it all goes black. My body becomes limp and I drop to the surface of the car hitting my chin.
I open my eyes and I am back at home in my own bed. The sun is shining outside and the distinct sound of the TV is coming from downstairs. I hear the old conversation that my parents used to have about me before the infection broke out.
“He is sleeping too late.” My dad says and I already know the next line. “Do you think he is depressed Suzie?” I mouth out the entire conversation that was all too common in my life.
“Ken he is a very busy boy.” My mother explains trying to defend my sanity but mostly her own. “He does not go to sleep till very late most nights with school and work and all.” Odds are she is smiling about how proud of me she is.
“But kids should not be lying in bed until one in the afternoon” He says. “Max never did that.” He says finally letting it all boil down to the fact that I am not my brother.
“Sam is not like Max, Ken.” My mother explains “They are both very different” these words always had a bit of a fake tone to them. “Sam just has different skills than Max; he is unique and special in his own way.” She says and with that I have had enough. My body slowly aches to life and I rise from the bed. My feet touch the wood floor; it is cold. It always was cold on my bare feet. I pull a clean pair of tan cargo shorts out of my drawer and put them on with a T-shirt. During the walk down the stairs the house is silent other than the sound of the television. As soon as I come into view my parents’ eyes lock onto me. Their gaze is concerned yet cold. They both have a smile plastered on their faces that is so fake and clairvoyant. I gaze back and put on a smile of my own. Their smiles get wider in response and we stare at each other. The tension in a room filled with only smiles is thick so much that it clouds my view.
This was what an average morning looked like before the infection broke out, I can almost say I miss it. Almost, being the key word.
“Good morning killer” my dad says still grinning. I stare back confused by that choice of name.
“What did you call me?” I respond abruptly almost showing shock in my words. My dad looks confused that I would question such a greeting as though I have done something wrong.
“Good morning Sam” he says again, with a bit of anger in his voice.
“Oh, good morning father” I sarcastically say through a toothy grin. He smiles back.
“How did you murder us last night honey?” my mother says still holding onto that smile which so elegantly hid her emotions. I step back; fear runs up my spine, goose bumps show themselves on my arms and legs. I breathe heavily and notice that I can see my breath. My fear is not cold the room is. I look out the window and there is only blackness. I look back at my parents and they are looking back at me with that concerned stare that I always hated “Sam,” my mother says regaining my attention, “How did you sleep?” She repeats with a bit of haste in her words. I stare flabbergasted.
“Um, fine I guess” I stutter the words come out in chunks. They were not clean or convincing. Ignoring my clear confusion my father tries to continue the dying conversation.
“Any big stabs today?” he asks in a calm nonchalant manner. I panic and step backwards tripping over one of the stairs landing on my back.
“Are you ok honey?” my mothers voice soothing and slow. I look at her. She looks paler than usual almost a sickly green. Her eyes are sunken and rings of red circle them. Her hair is a frizzy mess. I follow her every move as she stands up and begins the walk towards me. The skin around her cheek begins decomposing and falls off her face. Dirty brown blood begins to drip down her face onto her clothes now sporting holes and tears each one with its own set of wounds. She limps with a bite mark dripping with that same dark blood. She is coming closer, her body one large sum of decomposing flesh. The smell is rancid as it fills my nose I begin to gag.
My father is staring at me confused as though I am at fault. He stares as though I am the monster in the room.
“Sam, are you ok?” he asks, drawing my attention away from my mother and to him. He is still sitting on the couch; his head is turned away from me. He seems to be string out the window into the blackness. He seems almost oblivious to my mother.
His head turns slowly towards me; I can hear each vertebra in his neck crack and pop like rotating gears that have not been oiled. He stares at me; his expression is emotionless, blank. His face is white with the classic red circles of the infected surrounding his sunken eyeballs.
It appears as though he is trying to speak but can not do it. He coughs a hard dry cough causing blood to spurt out of his mouth and nostrils and roll down onto his beard dying it a dark brown color. “You look as though you have just murdered someone” he finally sputters out causing blood to hit the floor.
I begin to run. My body is screaming at me to leave the house. So I run to the front door. It is locked and my parents are coming closer. I cut through the small more formal den towards the kitchen. I hear their steps behind me and feel the droplets of blood flying from their mouths with each step. I enter the kitchen and pull at the knife drawer. It is empty all except for one blade. A meat cleaver, It is about seven inches in blade length and has a light brown wooden handle. The finish of the handle glows brightly. The blade itself is fresh and new; my fingers slide themselves gently across the sharp blade. They are closing in on me. I feel their cold breath running up my neck and for a second the world around me slows down. Each hair on my body stands up on end. In that second my body goes into panic mode. I turn and swing wildly through the air. I look into the empty kitchen in front of me. The room is cold as though I have stepped into a freezer. My breath comes out like a small stream of foggy smoke. I peer around the empty kitchen. My right hand twitches with anticipation for the fight that is inevitable.
I feel hands grab firmly on my shoulder causing my hair to rise once again. I turn and swing wildly again. I feel my blade strike something firm, blood splashes onto my face. When I look up the room is empty. Once again I am standing alone in my kitchen with a dumb expression on my face. I look down at the meat cleaver which is no stained with the rotten blood of the infected. I smile, and laugh; it begins slowly and quietly. I begin chuckling almost at a whisper then rises to a brazen crescendo blasting through out the house.
“This is the best you have?” I shout amid my laughter “Come out and show yourself!” I shout swinging my blade through the air. “Come out and let me chop you to ribbons!” I scream. Then as if in response to my calls, these undead creatures which inhabit the bodies of my parents appear in front of me. They are smiling. The undead are smiling at me. I smile back and just like that it begins. The sick dance of battle which always has the same ending, someone is left as a bloody pulp on the floor. I step forward slicing through the air hard enough that the blade whistled. The creatures are fast and dodge the blade. Their bodies move as one in unison perfect symmetry, I look at them with a peculiar grin. I was excited to have a good fight and I knew it; it is very rare to have a fight that involved skill, especially when it came to the infected. They usually had poor reflexes and would just take the hit.
These two were different, that made this exciting. I look at them. They gaze back there eyes glassy and reflective, I see my face in them and smile. I charge the two with another quick swing. The two split up as my fathers body leaps over the counter landing on the table. The undead which has stolen my mother’s body spins and ducks ending up behind me. I turn my body trying to keep up with this quick creature. The horizontal blade hits the creatures arm, slicing it. I keep eye contact on the demon’s face as the blood sputters out spraying across the room something strange happens.
My mothers face appears back on this mangled body. Fear fills my body and pierces my lungs; I step back and stop breathing. All the blood leaves my face and I become pale. My mother is looking at her wrist which is now bleeding a crimson red spray. She looks up at me her eyes show confusion and worse than that disappointment.
“I am so sorry mom.” I cry out. “I did not me-“the other infected is on my back, knocking me to the ground. I fight and wrestle it off me. I look back down at my mother and the body that stared back was not my mother. The undead staring back up at me stares the expression bleeds emptiness lack of thought and emotion. I panic and throw my weight around wildly knocking the creature up against the oven door. His grip is loosening as I continue to smash his back against the door. The sounds of cracking glass begin to echo through the room until it finally shatters sending the infected tumbling into the now exposed oven. My face is red anger covers my eyes and clouds my vision. I chop violently at the infected mangling and destroying the body. I turn towards the one which has killed my mother. It is standing now, smiling with a dark grin giving the monster life and a personality.
“Sam” it says blood spurting from its mouth and wrist. “Have you seen your father?”
“He is dead” I coldly reply. My face is solemn holding in the screaming scratching at the back of my throat trying to break free. “You killed him” I point with the meat cleaver. There is vengeance in my eyes burning like a fire.
“I a not the one who shoved him into an oven and chopped him up now am I?” she laughs. “Admit it Sam, you are a cold blooded killer who killed us both.” she continues “It is your fault we’re dead and you know it” I smile at that. Something about that phrase evokes a slight laugh. I look up at this creature and laugh
“Yes I did kill you but not my mother” I say my voice is soft and cold “You are not my mother” My body flies forward lead by the meat cleaver striking and swinging. Our bodies dance around moving slicing fighting. I keep the infected at bay as I swing slicing its arms blood sprays around the room and covers the walls. My swings get closer striking at the stomach and chest. “I will chop you up for lying to me” I scream. “How dare you pretend to be my mother!”
Suddenly something digs into my shoulder. It feels like a series of sharp jabs cutting through my flesh to the bloody tissue below. I fall to the ground, the room is shaking the walls begin to crumble my body lays face down on the cold tile floor. I can not move my body won’t let me. I lay there on my stomach and stare at the two creatures which inhabit my mother and father as they feast on my body. I am helpless, I want to scream but I can’t, I want to fight but I just lay there and watch the end. The walls around me vibrate and crumble, this is death. This is my death and I close my eyes and feel it.
My eyes open in a rush, cold sweat is dripping down my face and I am in a panic. It was a dream, it was all a dream, a nightmare built from a guilt which lives deep inside me and in a second it was gone. I look around I am lying in the back of the car. Leila and the cats’ sit across from me watching me waiting to see my next move. I feel vibrations from my pocket. My phone is ringing the screen reads out “SEAN ACKERMAN” in bold letters.
“Hello?” I say into the phone quietly my head still reeling from the nightmare.
“Sam, where are you?” I look at the clock in the car the numbers look strange to me like a new language and then I realize I am an hour late. I smile and give a little laugh. It’s the zombie apocalypse and I still oversleep. “Sam, are you there” Ackerman says waking me from my thoughts
“Oh, sorry I am on my way over I will be there in five minutes.” I say moving into the driver’s seat and turning the key. The car rumbles to life and the Bluetooth connects my phone to the speakers. Sean’s voice bursts out loud around the car.
“Sam I am ready where should I be?”
“In your garage, when I get there open the door and move to the car quickly.”
“Ok” he replies and with that the call was over, I hit the gas and began to move. My iPod begins to play over the speakers the song is very familiar to me, “Demon Days” by my favorite band Gorillaz. The track is a beautiful orchestral track lit up by the beautiful sounds of a choir then accented by the wonky twangs of an electric guitar.
The sounds start at a soft low sound with the guitar humming at a high pitch in the background the singer jumps into the sound with a light falsetto, his voice streaming along the words. Following him the orchestral strings and wonky guitars build to a bright crescendo boldly it blasts through the speakers hitting my eardrums. The choir blares into the crescendo creating a gorgeous mix of instrumental and vocal gold.
“In these Demon Days it’s so cold inside, so hard for good souls to survive, you can’t even trust the air you breath, mother earth wants us all to leave.” Their words echo through my mind. “The lies become reality, numb yourself with drugs and T.V” I join in with a pathetic attempt to hold onto a falsetto key. “Lift yourself up it’s a brand new day and turn yourself around” the women and I sing to the strings and sounds “don’t burn yourself, turn yourself, turn yourself around towards the sun.” I smile; there is real joy in my smile. No cynicism, no sadism just pure joy which shines through my teeth and reflects the sunlight through the sky. Music has the power to create emotion, raw and vivid.
My joy is short lived as I notice a curious thing. There are no infected around. There were not any when I woke up from my nightmare. The streets are empty and loneliness is worse surrounded by emptiness. I turn onto Sam’s street and I begin to feel my heart race. I drive slowly hoping to find something. I don’t care if it is alive or dead. The houses roll by in different conditions broken windows and board lay across the ground but no people. The world seems empty as I pull into Ackerman’s driveway. I pull in backwards so the trunk is facing the garage. Then I jump into the back and throw Babe into his box. I don’t worry about Cleo or Leila jumping but given the chance Babe would run and I would never see him again.
The car turns off and I jump out through the trunk. I walk over to the garage and without warning it slowly rises up revealing a body standing there with a sword hanging from his hip another one on his back and then a bag which looked like it was filled with more swords and knives. Sean was taller than me and much more skinny, his body showed a strong muscle tone which made his thin frame almost unnoticeable. He looks at me and a smile slides across both our faces. We hug not that awkward man hug where you don’t really want to get too close but a real hug.
He walks towards the car and throws his bag in as well as the sword on his back. I look at the sword on his back, it is large the blade seems to be a three foot straight blade with a chain attached to the hilt which is a crimson red. The blade oozes elegance and strength. I give a slight cynical chuckle. Sean was a karate enthusiast with a slight sword fetish. Odds are he had this hidden away for years and only picked her up recently. Laying it down next to my woodpecker scythe my weapon looks silly.
I look at Sean who is looking around, he noticed the emptiness which surrounds us, his eyes come back to me reflecting through his glasses but there is something else there.
“Sam” he says his eyes showing fear “There is no one here”
“I know” I smile back. We stand there listening to the silence for a few minutes.
Then we begin to hear it. A slight buzzing like a thousand drums banging out of beat. It is getting louder, it is getting closer.
“SEAN!!” we hear from the distance. We turn and see a mob of the infected running toward us. Hundreds of them all charge the house. At the front of the pack is our friend Ryan. His red hair a mess covered in his own sweat. He is just out of the reach of the infected but they are gaining fast. I look at Ackerman who already has his hand on his sword ready to draw it. He is preparing for a battle and I am not. I thro the trunk closed and grab him and push him towards the open garage. Ryan follows him and I am bringing up the rear.
I notice something as we run toward the garage. Ryan is bleeding from the ankle. The cut is stereotypical and very upsetting. He has been bitten. Ina few hours he will be part of the mindless collective he will be an infected. There is no hope for him, and he knows it. Fear does that to people when you know there is no hope you seek it out. I grimace at the knowledge of what I must do.
The garage door shuts behind us crushing bodies and limbs underneath it. I laugh at them as the muscles twitch and try to free themselves. Ackerman and I look at Ryan who is breathing heavily his eyes wide. I give him time to breath and calm down.
“Rubinstein, what are you doing here?” he says to me. I look at him. To be quite honest I did not know he was still alive otherwise I would have called him.
“Sam and I are leaving” Ackerman bursts in before I can create a lie to keep him away. “Do you want to come with us?” he says, I quiver at that question.
“Yes” Ryan answers hastily “you guys could help me-“
“He can’t come” I say cutting him off. They both stare at me surprised by my answer and how coldly I say it. “He can not go with us” I repeat to help the idea sink in.
“Well who are you to decide that?” Ackerman says his tone shows aggression, it is a blind aggression. He did not see the bite. “I am going on this trip too and I say to let Ryan go with us!” his voice is rising he is in my face invading my personal bubble. I can’t help but smile at his aggression. He always would protect his friends which made him a great asset, but when you go against his friend his anger is blindly towards you.
“Fine” I smile just to get Sean out of my face. He turns with Ryan towards the door into his house and at that point I strike. My butcher’s knife pierces through Ryan’s throat, sliding through the vertebrae. He begins to quiver and shake as I hold up his body. Blood spills from his mouth and nose dripping down his body. The blood was red not the rusted brown of the infected. This was a hum and I killed him. His body shook in my hands for a minute. Then stopped and became silent and calm. I pulled the blade from his throat and his body crumpled to the ground like a balled up piece of paper. I felt nauseous and afraid, not because of Ryan but because of what stood behind him. Ackerman’s face was red his eyes bulging from behind his glasses, his sword was drawn and pointed toward me. He demanded an explanation, he demanded vengeance.
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