The tracks continued down the familiar path. As a family, they had walked this trail so many times before. It spiraled through the trees, with beautiful sights and sounds of nature all around it, even in this newly barren world. When he reached the small pond on the other side of a break in the trees, he knew he’d walked about half a mile. This was usually where they would stop and turn around on their strolls, and he had measured the distance back when smartphones had still worked.
But he still didn’t see his wife and son. The tracks remained heading down the path.
Jon continued following the trail, eventually coming to a place where he had to stop and squat to observe the dirt again.
No longer were there only two sets of human footprints. There were several now.
As he moved a little farther, something else on the track got his attention. He kneeled to see a dark spot in the dirt and a white cloth draped over a flower. The fabric looked torn and had a crimson stain on it. He picked it up, noticing the familiar flower pattern from one of Carrie’s favorite dresses. Only one of the flowers showed, the rest of them being covered up by blood.
Jon gasped as he heard the vulgar snarl that could only come out of one of the dead things.
He raced down the path, following the zombie’s spitting growl. The sound eventually led him off of the trail at the point where he noticed the footsteps had come to an end. He heard the snarls coming from his left.
Racing between trees and avoiding bushes and the thick brush, Jon eventually came to the source of the sound.
Five zombies had huddled together, straddled over two bodies on the ground. Jon noticed his son’s sneakers first, and then his wife’s legs covered in blood.
He fell to his knees, his whole body seemingly going limp as he slumped over. Tears poured from his eyes as he sobbed, and when he picked his head up again, a string of saliva ran from the ground to his mouth before it finally broke loose.
Jon screamed.
The zombies turned, finally discovering that he was there. A couple of them hissed, slowing making their way to their feet.
Hyperventilating, Jon made eye contact with the things. He was frozen in shock. At that moment, he thought to just lie down on his back and let the things take him, too. To die right there in those woods with his wife and son.
But then a new feeling rose up in him.
Jon narrowed his eyes. He stood in unison with one of the zombies.
Reaching onto his back, Jon took hold of his bat.
The zombie snarled.
Jon lunged forward, not waiting for the zombie to make the first move.
34
The door to the room swung open, the knob slamming against the wall. It jerked Jon out of his slumber. He hadn’t quite been asleep, but somewhere between consciousness and dreams instead, forging his way towards death. His body still ached, though not as badly as it had the day before. The end of the beatings had helped with that.
Sounds of footsteps filled the room, and Jon found the awareness to turn over and look upward. The two men who’d brought him to the room to begin with were there now.
“Up,” one of them said.
“It’s time,” added the other.
Jon groaned, not hesitating to obey their commands. What was the point? He was ready to get this over with and end the pain for good. Moving into a tabletop position, he pushed through the aches to get himself all the way up onto his feet, but apparently, the men didn’t appreciate how long it was taking him. One of them hooked him under his arms and lifted, sending a sharp pain through Jon’s chest and stomach. His ribs screamed at him. Biting his lip, Jon groaned.
“We ain’t got all fuckin’ day,” the man who’d lifted him said. “Against the wall, hands behind your back. And don’t you dare try anything.”
Jon did as instructed, facing the wall and clasping his hands behind his back. He felt the zip-tie go around his wrists and then pull tight. He gritted his teeth as the bands cut into his wrists, and then the man spun him around, nearly sending him back down to the ground.
“Come on.”
Jon limped toward the door. The two men walked behind and on either side of him, each holding onto one of his arms. They pushed him along, forcing him to fight through the pain and walk faster. He could feel his legs wanting to go out from underneath him, but he fought through it and kept pace with the two men. The last thing Jon wanted to do on his march to death was to show any weakness to these bastards.
They led him up some stairs and into the kitchen of a house, and for the first time, he realized he’d been in a basement the whole time. Jon had been unconscious when they’d brought him there. The place had been kept dark enough to where it had been difficult for him to grasp where he’d been, especially with as much blurry vision as he’d dealt with. Sunlight came in through the windows of the house, allowing Jon to see where he was going. He didn’t know what time of day it was.
“To the front door,” one of the men said.
When they arrived at the door, the other man opened it. Jon walked out onto a porch and down a few steps, and then the men faced him to the right and
