I was able to get out of the alley before the majority of the zombies could begin to block us in. I winced when I sideswiped one, not because I had hit something but because I knew from the force of the impact I had just put a dent in my wife’s car. I didn’t even look over towards her, but the right side of my face was melting from the glare that was directed at it. There were fewer cars on the road than I would have expected for 8 o’clock on a Thursday night, but that was more than made up for by the sheer number of zombies. Most were just milling about looking for something or should I say ‘somebody’ to eat. Every few hundred feet or so there would be a cluster of ten or so tearing something apart. You and I both know what they were tearing apart but luckily my brain had enough protective competence to mask over that small insignificant fact.
“Oh Jesus,” my wife muttered as we passed a small cluster, just ravaging some poor soul. I can tell you right now these variants on the traditional zombies weren’t just interested in the brains of their victims. I saw one of the zombies look up from his ‘meal’ with what appeared to be a thigh muscle hanging out of its putrid maw. “I think I’m going to be sick,” Tracy continued.
“Then roll down your window. Travis you too, if anything gets too close just shoot, just make sure it’s dead first,” I suggested. Travis looked at me questioningly. “You know what I mean,” I clarified. “Just don’t kill something that’s still alive.” Yeah, I made about as much sense as a Yankee’s fan visiting Fenway Park.
Most of the cars that were on the road weren’t moving; they had been abandoned. I had to keep my speed down to avoid the cars, the zombies, and the occasional victim-to-be.
“Shouldn’t we help them?” my wife asked as she pulled her head back into the car, already looking better now that she'd emptied her stomach. I motioned that she had a little something on the side of her face. She lifted her hand to remove the offending detritus.
“Uh, other side,” I explained. She missed again. I wiped my face again to show her where it was.
“Forget the damn puke!” she yelled. “Shouldn’t we try to help?”
“No,” I mumbled.
“What? Speak up, I can’t hear your altruism,” she retorted acerbically.
“Listen, if we stop we become vulnerable, and we don’t know if the person we would be helping is infected. We can’t take that chance, we have to look out for us,” I argued. I’m not sure if my claim was good enough. Was that how I felt or was I just trying to cover up my cowardice?
Yeah, I was scared out of my mind that first day. Is it that easy for you to pass judgment? We’re mostly in a standoff with the zombies now, but back in the beginning when panic reigned supreme the only thing that mattered to me was me and my family. God, I just hope not in that order.
I probably would have gotten another sarcasm-laden ‘fine’ from my wife if not for the thunder that tore through the car. Travis had decapitated a zombie that was approaching our right side while I had slowed to avoid a nasty five or six car pile-up. I don’t think that he had nearly the feelings of dread I had when I had killed the zombie at our front door. To him this was not so far removed from playing Left 4 Dead on his Xbox 360.
“Got one Dad!” he yelled triumphantly, a gleam in his eye. I muttered my congratulations but all I could think of was some old phrase I had come across in one of my English classes: ‘Take heed your actions lest ye become like the enemy ye seek to destroy.’
I didn’t have much time to reflect on my misgivings as I turned into the Wal-Mart parking lot. It was worse than my worst fears of how this was going to play out. Cars were strewn across the parking lot. It looked like the longest happy hour in history had just finished and the patrons were all trying to get home at the same time. What was worse than the cars were the couple of hundred zombies strolling across the parking lot. I did a quick drive by the front of the store, and I could tell that an almost equal number were inside meandering about. Well, I bet tripe was going to be scarce. This did not bode well for Justin. I was in a quandary; I just didn’t know what to do. I had to look for him, even if he had become one of those things, but I didn’t even know how or where to begin. It’s not like I could ask one of the zombies if they had seen a zombie that matched the description of my son. Luckily, Travis solved my problem with one simple question.
“Dad, why aren’t the zombies attacking us?” Travis asked. I wasn’t traveling much more than 5 miles an hour, fast enough to keep any of them from catching us but not fast enough to stop one from coming towards us. It was then that we took notice of a large congregation of zombies merely standing, all of them facing towards the store with their faces (or what remained of them) all upturned. They almost looked like they were worshipping, but what do zombies worship, is there a God of the Tasty Brain? Is their Eucharist a tiny slice of dried brain matter? I know! I know! It’s sacrilegious but that’s what I was thinking at the time. Even the remnants of the zombies that weren’t already together in this impromptu meeting seemed to be heading in that direction. Some of the zombies that were recent accident victims from the carnage in the parking lot were dragging what remained of their former host body to the flock. Every once in a while I even noticed one or two of the zombies convulsing as if they were receiving HIS or ITS word.
“What in the fu…is going on here?” I asked nobody in particular. I had not so long ago promised my kids that I was going to do all in my power to cut the vulgarity out of my everyday vocabulary. As you can tell, I still have lapses but I think I deserved a pass on this one.
“Hey Dad!” I heard (barely). Somebody had shouted the words, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out where the voice was coming from. “Hey Dad!” I heard a little louder as we approached the large throng of zombies. As I made sure to skirt around the unholy gathering, I noticed activity on top of the Wal-Mart.
“Holy shit!” I yelled as I slammed on the brakes.
“What is it?” Tracy asked with alarm in her eyes. Travis was looking around hungrily for something to shoot, thinking that we were about to come under attack.
“Look on the roof!” I said incredulously.
Tracy leaned over my lap. “It’s Justin!” she said with elation . I was also happy, but the gears in my head were still turning; how were we going to get him down from there?
At least we now knew what had the zombies so enthralled. Justin and a couple of his co-workers had escaped to the roof before it was too late. One of them had grabbed a couple of pellet guns and from the looks of all the empty beer cans on the ground somebody had the presence of mind to grab some cases of Keystone Light.
So let’s make sure we’re clear on this: Obviously the people that managed to get to the roof knew their lives were in danger. They had the presence of mind to climb to a safe haven and even to arm themselves as best they could. So far so good, but then one of the group decided that they might need some beverages to stave off thirst, still good. That person, fearing for his life, went to the beer section, which again is admirable, everyone knows beer is the nectar of the gods. But then he grabs Keystone Light? Are you kidding me? I’d rather eat the can than drink those contents.
My curiosity was now satisfied. The convulsions some of the zombies were experiencing were caused by pellet impacts. It wasn’t enough to kill them by a long shot, but I will testify to this day that it definitely had the effect of pissing them off. Zombies by definition are murderous, but I’m telling you they now had a murderous intent to them. Did they want to exact revenge? Were they even still capable of such a sophisticated mind set? Of all the zombie movies I’d seen and all the zombie books I had read, only a small percentage dealt with zombies that had feelings. I did not want the zombies in MY nightmare to have feelings. Feelings ALWAYS complicated things. I’m a guy. Guys don’t want to deal with feelings.
I got as far away from the multitude as I could while still hoping that Justin would be able to hear me. “Go to the other side of the store!” I yelled for all I was worth.
Justin just shrugged his shoulders, clearly not being able to understand me.
“Go to the other side of the store!” I screamed, my throat burning from the strain.
He shrugged again helplessly.
I made over-exaggerated motions for him to move to his right. He answered with an over-exaggerated nod, the light bulb clearly going off over his head. As he began to move off, a fair percentage of the gathered zombies also peeled off, heading in the same direction. Justin noticed this quirk too. He slowly walked back to his co- workers, and the zombies returned to the fold. I watched him hand his pellet gun off to a fat bear of a kid. The pellet gun looked no bigger than a Butterfinger in his hands, and I bet he wished it were the candy bar instead. Then Justin grabbed a beer and walked back towards the center of the roof, and out of the line of sight of his devoted followers.
“Why aren’t they coming after us?” Tracy asked more surprised than anything.
I had been asking myself that same question. Sure, some of the zombies looked our way occasionally,
