wouldn't leave a trail through the dew either. There was one body lying on the shore of the river, the other one must have gotten away. The patio door had been broken out from the inside, there was broken glass all over outside, some with blood on it.”
“I moved the blinds to one side of the doorway and looked into the house, it looked deserted, but I couldn't tell for sure, I mean I could only see the kitchen and dining room. The place was a mess, the table and chairs were broken apart all over the floor, there was a wooden table leg sticking out of the wall too. I stepped in and grabbed that leg, it would have to do as a club until I found a better weapon. The place was two stories, but didn't have a basement. I was pretty sure I would hear someone if they were moving around upstairs, and so far I hadn't heard a thing. I went into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge, it was well stocked with food, but it had been awhile since the outbreak and some of it was nasty looking. I pulled out everything that still looked okay to eat, fruits, vegetables, some packaged lunch meat, cheese, I was starving. The cupboard held some moldy bread, but there were crackers that still looked okay so I made myself a big plateful of the stuff. I had just turned back to look in the refrigerator for some mustard, when a voice called out softly behind me.”
“It was a raspy, whispering voice and it said, 'Here doggie-doggie! Feeding time at the old bowl, is it?' I shut the door, spun around and grabbed the table leg off of the counter. It was a zombie, I couldn't tell if it was the one from the day before, but the next thing it said confirmed it. 'I guess old Alan was right, there was some guy floating down the river after all. Where you been hiding little doggie?'”
“This guy was middle aged, he had black hair cut short, kind of like 'Mo' off the three stooges, normally a bad looking cut, but it suited him. He was not wearing a shirt, but had a bloodstained towel hanging over one shoulder and dried blood smeared down his right side into the waistband of his track shorts. His legs stood out, he had a tattoo on his left thigh, some sort of bird and he had shaved his legs. He was wearing flip flops, blue ones, and he was just standing there looking at me. I was starving and scared and now the adrenaline started coursing through my body. The zombie took a step forward and spoke again, 'Fight or don't fight, either way, at the end of the day you will be following me out of here.' I raised my free hand towards him and said, 'Wait up a minute buddy' and the zombie actually paused while I stuffed three of the cracker and cheese stacks into my mouth from off of the plate. Those crackers had to be the best thing I had ever tasted. He stood there looking amused while I crunched them down and told me he would make it easy on me, 'cause I seemed like a nice guy. That kind of made me mad, he would make it easy on me because I was nice?”
“I had found some Gatorade in the fridge and washed the cracker's down with it, then nodded to him and said, 'Thanks. I will try and make it easy on you too, you don't seem so bad yourself.' I was still quivering in my boots, this was the first conversation I had had with a zombie and I didn't like the way it had been going. He laughed at me and asked 'You wanna say any prayers or anything before I bring you over onto my side of life?' I shook my head and gestured him to get on with it. He smiled and rushed me, just that quick. I fell back and stumbled as my hurt leg rolled beneath me. That fall probably saved my life; the zombie bum rushed right into the wall, he had gotten tripped on me as I fell. His head hit right where the table leg had been and disappeared through the wall. I didn't get up, I rolled onto my stomach and swung my club into his ankle, his leg gave out and he screamed as he titled sideways, but his goddamned head Max! He couldn't pull it out of the wall! I think it was caught up on the lower edge of the drywall, he started smashing the wall with his hands and I used the time to stand up. The zombie finally pulled his head out of the wall filling the room with a dusty cloud of chalky drywall pieces. And that is when I gave him an overhand, two fist-ed blow to the top of his head with the table leg, this time the leg and his head broke.”
“He fell straight down with the force of the blow, but he wasn't finished. I am sure I broke his skull, but I guess I didn't do enough damage to his brain. Oh I had hurt him bad alright, he was only mumbling incoherently now, the same word over and over — 'mommy-mommy-mommy' as I looked for something else to finish him off with. The chair legs were too narrow, but I broke a couple of them across his head anyway. I couldn't find any other table legs either, after the fight I noticed how they were all missing. Finally I got a butcher knife from the kitchen counter and stuck it through the weak spot in the thing's head. Once it was truly dead I stood up and went back to looking for the mustard. It is amazing how quickly you get used to things. I mean here I was scrounging for food, then the next minute I was fighting for my life, then I was back looking for stuff to make my food taste better.”
“What'd you do after that?” asked Max.
“I finished eating, I even rummaged through the cupboards and downed a coupled cans of chili cold, along with the rest of the crackers. By the time I was done I felt bloated and ready to sleep again, but by then I realized I had better secure my surroundings first. Of course I was hoping for a bed to lay down in too.”
“I left the kitchen and found a blood trail leading up the stairs, I didn't think it was from the guy I killed, his blood was more black colored and this looked older. I needed a weapon too, something heavy to bash anything I found, but their wasn't a baseball bat or hockey stick or even a fire poker on the ground floor. There was a bedroom with a large bed in it, I thought about just laying down after locking the doors, but then I heard a quiet thump from upstairs. I wasn't going to leave a zombie over my head to burst in on me, it was probably a stupid slow zombie, but still I needed to check it out. I grabbed another kitchen knife from the counter and headed upstairs. There were five closed doors in the hallway there, but the blood trail was crystal clear; it ended at a door halfway down the hall.”
“I decided to check the other doors first, being as quiet as a forty year old guy could. I was hoping to find a sports storage room filled with baseball bats or better, some survivalist's arsenal, but I only found a linen closet, a den and two bedrooms. By the process of elimination that meant the zombie was in the bathroom, it doesn't take a genius to figure out you don't have a linen closet on the second floor unless there is a bathroom there too. I hadn't found any weapons and was getting ready to turn the doorknob when a thought occurred to me and I stopped. I went back to the bedroom closet to check out what the hangers were hanging from. The closets were pretty small, but the post holding up the hanger was a good solid piece of round hardwood. I ditched the clothing and pulled the wood off of the brackets it was resting on. The thing was two feet long and felt good in my hands. I tucked the knife into my belt and went back and opened the bathroom door, ready to do some serious head smashing.”
“The bathroom floor was covered in dried blood that ended at the shower curtain, which, of course, was pulled closed. Another thump sounded from the tub and I stepped in and prodded the curtain with my club. Nothing happened, so I eased one end of my stick between the wall and the curtain then slowly pulled it back far enough so I could see. The zombie wasn't standing up, it was laying in the tub. It had been a woman once, maybe in her thirties and something had been eating on her, she was a bloody mess. Everything from her hips on down were missing, not gnawed up; missing completely. One arm was also gone and the other was cut or torn off at the elbow. Her face was the worst, she had no eyes or nose, just bite marks from where they had been eaten out of her head, the skin around her mouth was gone as well, leaving an exposed numb of a tongue that was frantically bobbing in and out between her crooked white teeth. She couldn't see me. I mean there is no way, she had no eyes, no senses left really, even her ears were gone. Still as I stood there looking down on her she started squirming frantically, like a spider trying to crawl up the side of a porcelain tub, she would wiggle her way up a few inches, then slide back down. I have seen a lot of horrible things in the past couple of weeks, but this was the worst so far. I dropped my stick and ran out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind me while wondering who was screaming 'Oh my God!' so loud. It turns out it was me, I had to put my hands over my mouth to make it stop. I turned and faced the bathroom door then slid to the floor and rested my back against the linen closet. After awhile I seemed to get a little better, I wasn't screaming anymore, and I could move. I crawled into the bedroom I hadn't stolen the hanger rod from and shut the door behind me.”
“I knew two things right then, first: I was not going to be staying in that house any longer, and second: I wasn't going to get my club from the bathroom. I forced myself to get up and dismantle the rod from the closet and then slowly cracked open the bedroom door. The bathroom door was still closed, but I thought I heard a thump from inside, I hurried by it and took the stairs three at a time, which probably saved my life. I was so busy looking over my shoulder that I didn't see the zombie coming up the stairs. It was a, what did you call it? A 'super zombie', another smart one and the first I knew about it was when I ran into it and we were tumbling down the stairway into the living room. I ended up on top of him and fortunately I had not broken my neck, but I did break something in him. His arms seemed to be working okay, at least he was trying to hold onto me, but he wasn't kicking or anything, just twitching around with his legs. I rolled away from him and recovered my hanger rod, which had been wrenched from my hand in the collision. I broke the things arms with three blows and then spent a few minutes bashing the its head in.”
