As the World Dies: Untold Tales Volume 1

Page 9

Eric set one foot on the bench and heaved himself up praying it wouldn't creak. It didn't. Then he stood, legs apart, and lifted the shovel over his head.
"Hey, fuckhead," he shouted and his voice broke from his nerves.
The zombie whipped around and started toward him.
Eric screamed in anger and slammed the shovel down hard onto the zombie's head. There was a sickening sound, like a cantaloupe being dropped on the floor, as the shovel slammed into the creature's head, splitting apart the skin and bone. The zombie stopped in its tracks and wobbled on its feet. Eric managed to draw the shovel back and slam it down again. This time it sank deep into the zombie's head and the dead man fell to the ground, truly dead.
Eric felt sick to his stomach, but jumped down off the bench and drove the shovel into the back of the man’s head a few more times. He could see now that the solider had been attacked from behind. Large chunks of flesh were torn from his shoulder and back.
"Pepe, come here," Eric ordered as his nerves steadied.
The little dog, which seemed properly impressed, trotted over trailing his leash.
Eric pulled the shovel free of the zombie's head and wiped the brains and blood off on the grass. To his surprise, he saw the man had a revolver still tucked into his holster. With trembling fingers, he retrieved it then backed away from the body.
"Okay, we're going into the house," Eric said in a quivering voice.
Pepe waited for him to grab the end of the leash then together they hurried back to the house. Eric took one last long look around the property then slammed the door shut behind him, sealing him and Pepe into the safety of the old farmhouse.
Chapter Nine
Revelations
That night was rough. He opened a bottle of wine and drank the whole thing while watching the news on the TV and sobbing. He had let Pepe up on the bed with him, something Brandy would never do, and managed to eat some roasted chicken he had found in the refrigerator and some left over pie. It was hard to do anything other than cry as the news continued to show the end of the world and Brandy's body lay prone beneath the bedroom window.
Today was the day he was supposed to slip the big diamond ring on her finger and instead he had killed her. Well, killed her a second time. But still, Brandy was gone. Her beauty, her laugh, her smile, her kisses, everything. And though she had given him a rough time, cheated on him and had one of the worst tempers he had ever encountered, he had loved her. And she was gone.
He fell asleep around midnight and didn't wake up until morning. Pepe woke him up with a cold nose to his forehead and an insistent whine. Pepe needed to go do his business.
Eric's head throbbed with a wine hangover and he grunted as he sat up. "You do realize there are zombies outside. And me taking you outside might get my ass eaten."
Pepe gave him an annoyed look and jumped down to the floor.
"Gimme a sec," Eric muttered.
He staggered into the bathroom, relieved himself, and then splashed cold water on his face to wake himself up all the way. Pepe waited impatiently for him in the doorway, looking pretty disgruntled that Eric's bladder was empty while his was still full.
Eric snatched up the revolver and binoculars and began his rounds of looking out all the windows to make sure nothing was staggering around in the early morning. Brandy's body and that of the solider lay where he had left them and nothing else stirred except for the Waskom cat stalking a bird.
"Okay, lets do this," Eric said in a voice that sounded a little stuffy from all his crying the night before.
Making sure Pepe was secure on the leash, he hurried down the stairs and double-checked through the peephole before opening the door.
The morning was glorious. The sunlight streaming through the trees was hazy and full of tiny motes. Spring flowers in all their colorful raiment flowed down the sides of the driveway and filled the garden. Birds sang in the trees and in the distance a rooster was announcing the morning routine. It was a perfect day.
Except for the dead soldiers on the porch and in the garden and Brandy's body around the side of the house.
Pepe skipped down the steps and began sniffing around for a proper place to go.
"I like it better when you dump and go," Eric chided him. "You know. Zombies."
Pepe gave him a dark look and continued to nose around a birdbath.
Eric's gaze slowly slid down the drive and he began to wonder where the car was. Obviously, Brandy had made it to an area nearby. It was hard for him to believe she had walked miles and miles to get to the house. So far, the zombies didn't seem capable of deductive reasoning. He seriously doubted they even remembered their lives. So that meant the car was nearby.
He could feel his legs getting wobbly with the thought of taking the risk, but no zombies had shown up last night. If things had gone down badly in the community center, they would be trapped inside the building.
He took a deep breath and rubbed the side of his nose nervously.
He could walk down the driveway and see if the car was somewhere along the way. If it was intact, they could use that instead of the ATV to escape. It would be safer.
Maybe Brandy had seen the solider, not realized he was dead, stopped for help and…
That was always a possibility.
Right?
Pepe finished his business and kicked his back feet over the mess. It didn't do much to cover it, but Pepe seemed to think it helped. Skipping to the edge of his leash, the dog looked around then began to sniff at a statue.
If the dog seemed calm, then it should be okay.
Right?
Eric took a deep breath and looked down at the revolver in his hand. This was a better weapon. Faster. More destructive. He would aim for the head and it would be fast.
His stomach coiling into knots, he looked back at the closed door to the farmhouse.
Yeah.
The car would be good.
He started walking down the stone path to the parking lot. Pepe groused a little as he was pulled away from his smelling, but he followed. Eric's loafers crunched across the gravel parking lot as Pepe skipped along, his tiny feet expertly maneuvering over the rougher parts. Once they hit the paved road, Pepe began to dash about excitedly, sniffing every spot on the road it seemed, but he didn't bark and he didn't seem alarmed.
Eric walked briskly, the cool morning air soothing against his fevered flesh. His nerves were on edge and he could feel his body temperature rising. Swallowing hard, he tried not to panic and kept focused on moving down the walkway. The trees lining the road were full of singing birds and the branches swayed with the breeze in a soothing dance.
But he knew he could not relax, he could not drop his guard.
Pepe suddenly growled and Eric spun around, the gun raised instantly.
A squirrel tittered angrily at Pepe then scampered up a tree.
Pepe barked after it with satisfaction then looked at Eric's tense face as if to say "What?"
"No barking at squirrels, Pepe. Zombies only!" Eric lowered his hand and took a deep breath.
Pepe looked a bit disappointed with this order and turned and kicked his feet up at Eric in disapproval.
They moved on down the road, along the curve, losing sight of the house. Eric's heart began to thud harshly in his chest and his hands felt cold and clammy.
"A car is a good thing," he muttered and kept walking.
He had to keep focused on the goal. The goal was safe passage.
They rounded another corner and the trees on the right hand side of the road gave way to a long sloping view down a field full of bluebonnets to the town at the bottom of the hill. Fumbling for his binoculars around his neck, he took a deep breath.
"Lets see what is going on," he said.
The main street swam into view as he peered through the magnifying lenses and the street was devoid of any life. He scanned it carefully, studying every doorway to the shops, the shadows, and the visible parking areas. Nothing moved. He slid his gaze along the street up to the old church that was a landmark in the town and the old city hall. If he remembered correctly, the community center was between them.
A squat building, from maybe the seventies came into view and he adjusted the binoculars just a tad to zoom in on it. Long, glass windows were set into the pale orange bricks and enormous glass doors were set under a portico. Obviously that was the entrance. Objects seem to be pushed up against the doors from within and Eric bet those were tables. He moved the binoculars slowly down the side of the building. He could see shadowy movement beyond the long windows. The last window was being hit directly by the sun and he dropped his binoculars the second he looked at it.
Blood. It had been splashed with blood.
His hands were trembling and he tried to steady his nerves. It was hard to breathe and he forced air into his lungs. They were inside the community center. Trapped. That was a good thing. He had to remember that. It was a good thing.
The wind rustled the wildflowers and tall grass and he looked around once more. The world seemed serene and lovely this morning. Pepe was busy scratching at the dirt next to the road and not seeming the least bit worried. The road curved just ahead of them to meet the main street into town. He wasn't sure he wanted to go any further. He was about to turn back when there was a glint of light off of something down off the road and in the trees.