Carol opened the door to Bessie’s pen. Bessie looked around in confusion. Sure she was a cow but she had to know on some level that when animals left this barn they didn’t come back. Had her time finally come? She looked directly at me. I must have had one of those huge cartoon clouds over my head with a hamburger in it because she took off for the door.
“Good luck girl.” I said to Bessie’s retreating back. “I wish we could have spent more time together,” as I rubbed my belly.
“Mike, don’t make me take back all those good things I said about you.”
I put my arm around her shoulder, as her tears flowed freely.
“It’s really over isn’t it?” She asked as she sniffed her nose.
“Pretty much.” I had come to terms with my fate. I’m not saying I enjoyed it or was looking forward to it, but there was a breath of freedom in it all the same.
Carol and I walked up to the old house. The departing cold winter sun was slowly being replaced by an even colder full moon. It looked as large as a plate as it hung low on the horizon.
“At least we’ll be able to see them.” I said.
“And that’s good how?” Jen asked as Carol and I approached up the stairs.
I don’t think the zombies much cared about the psychological effect of attacking at night. This was going to be more of a timing issue for them. When they got here they would attack, pure, plain and simple. As soon as Jen had helped Carol get back into the house, I reattached the rope alarm. No sense in getting caught with our pants down. Then I thought of Cash, and all of a sudden my analogy didn’t seem quite so humorous. The sun setting in the west and the moon rising in the east were near equidistant to the horizon, when I implemented the most crucial element of the plan.
There was some resistance and much wailing and gnashing of the teeth but in the end I stood firm and got nearly all that I demanded. BT smiled at me as if he realized he was the only fly in my ointment. For an hour Jen and I idly pretended to play cards at the kitchen table. BT had long since retired to his couch. I wondered if he would stay awake long enough to see this through. The house was unnaturally quiet. However that was more me imprinting my feelings on my surroundings. What noises should the house be making? At this point I was even beginning to miss Henry’s world-class ass attack.
BT, much to my amazement, was first up when the alarm bell rang...once and only once.
“Any chance that could be Bessie coming home?” Jen asked.
“For her sake, I hope that isn’t the case, I’m starving.” I told her.
“Me too.” BT said.
“Men.” Jen said exasperatedly. “Is someone going to answer the call?” She asked.
“Women first.” BT said gallantly. “I would but I can’t walk so good.”
“I’ll get it.” I told her. The walk down the hallway was dream like. I felt like a condemned man finally going to make atonement for his transgressions. As fucked up as it sounds, I wanted to say ‘Dead Man Walking!’ But I thought my last words should be something more noble. Like ‘Tell my wife I love her.’ I kept my stray thoughts to myself, why now though? Why all of a sudden? I might have brought the thought to fruition, but the death bell rang one more grave time.
“Wow, someone’s hungry.” BT said.
“Ugh.” Was the loose translation from Jen.
“Not cool BT.” I said without ever turning back around. I might have ran and hid if I did. He laughed it off. I grabbed the handle to the door and took what I felt was going to be my last breathe. I turned the knob, opened the door and laid witness to what can only be described as an awake night terror. Hundreds maybe thousands of zombies surrounded the house, the front line of them within a hand span of the rope alarm. The only being holding the rope was someone I knew all too well.
“Hi roomie did you miss me?”
I was more pissed than anything that I had shown weakness but I could not stop it. The splash of vomit that issued forth from me was no more stoppable than the incessant tide.
Durgan laughed at me as I slammed the door back into place. Jen turned white as a ghost when she saw my face.
“Bad?” She asked.
“You could say that.” The words tasted funny through all the bile.
“What would you say?” BT asked, looking a lot more serious all of a sudden.
“Um, fucking horrible comes to mind. Maybe really fucking shitty, that’s another set of adjectives I’d use, there’s...”
“Enough Mike, what’s going on?” BT asked.
“Let’s just say that the zombie invasion has made this ground zero and they have a leader.”
“Eliza’s really here?” Jen gulped.
“Why didn’t you shoot her, this could already be over.” BT said.
“Sorry, too busy puking.” I said as I looked out the storm shutter. “And no it’s not Eliza, she sent one of her lackey’s, its Durgan and he seems pissed.”
“Oh I can’t imagine why.” Jen said. “First you run him off from his own store. Then you kill all his buddies while simultaneously shooting his leg off at the knee. You cave-in his one remaining good knee with a leg kick and to then top it off you leave him locked in a cell surrounded by zombies.”
“See! You know what I’m saying.” I said pointing to Jen. “He started every single one of those encounters. I just ended them. And here he is again, starting more shit. I guess it’s up to us to finish it.”
“No sense in messin’ with tradition.” BT stated matter-of-factly.
It started like a whispering wind over a graveyard and turned into a full blown crescendo as thousands of tortured vocal chords tried to chant, what I could only surmise was a war cry.
“What the fuck is that?” BT asked. I could tell by his expression that it was as disconcerting to him as it was to me.
The house vibrated under the assault of the low bass range the collective moan put out. Zombies were one thing. This deadly lament was wholly something else. There was a bizarre feel to it as the oscillation passed through my body threatening to liquefy the contents in my bowels. Was this planned? Did they know the effect this would have on us? I peeked through one of the shutters, hoping maybe to get a shot off at Durgan. He must have assumed this too because he was no longer in sight choosing to lead his troops from the rear instead of the front, I suppose. Well one good outcome from the moaning was that the zombies weren’t moving.
“Seems like we’ve got a bunch of blonde zombies.” I said pulling my face away from the glass.
“Huh? What are you talking about Mike?” Jen asked, clearly upset.
“They can’t moan and move at the same time.” I finished.
Jen rolled her eyes. BT shook his head.
“Hey they can’t ALL be gems.” I told them.
“Yeah but at least one or two would be nice.” BT yelled over the cacophony.
And as quickly as it had started it stopped. How could the moaning have been better? Because when the zombies were moaning they weren’t moving. The alarm bell crashed to the floor in a tumble of forewarning.
“This is it!” I yelled, louder than the situation dictated, nerves getting the better of me. “Might as well have a front row seat to the apocalypse.” I opened the front door, pulling the trigger on my rifle as I did, not even waiting to acquire a target, that would have been superfluous. It amazed me that they could even move forward being wedged that tightly together. Maneuverability was out of the question for them. I could only hope that as they closed in around the house that they would grind each other into oblivion as the space between them became less than non-existent. Some would surely die this way, crushed in a sea of zombianity. Good.
I was halfway through my first magazine when Jen stepped out beside me. She had moved on from her original pistol and was now touting her own assault weapon, an HK-17. I’ve got to admit even in the crappy predicament we were in I was a little jealous of her gun. It was a bigger caliber than my AR’s 5.56 mm round. It toted a much toothier 7.72 round, which had the added benefit of going in and out of one target and sometimes in and out of another. It was a pleasure to watch multiple heads snap back from the impact of her bullet. She was shredding through rows of zombies.
She looked over at me from the corner of her eye and through clenched teeth and a strained voice she said to me. “It might be better if you start shooting and stop watching me.”
