Stupid

Photo courtesy of Skize26 www.flickr.com

That same dark night. I had two choices. I could take the Interstate, open, exposed, straight; or I could take the main street . . . open, exposed, and mostly straight. Either way I would end up in Parowan. I opted for the main street since I was on it anyway, and because if there was a Zed it was most like to be wandering down the Interstate.

Right?

I have no idea. Personally I felt really stupid being out in the open like this when I knew dang well that the people in the church knew I had left. I stopped walking, and looked for sanctuary of some kind. That's when the fear took me.

I was looking at a house. In the moonlight I could make out the windows and the front door. The darkness inside, a darker dark than I was standing in, seemed to seep from the home. I looked away, feeling the chill of danger freeze my insides. I looked for another house. They all looked the same. I found myself running, panicked, breathing shallow, and rapidly.

"Stupid." I kept repeating. "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid."

I whipped around in a haze. I didn't know where I was. I lost my balance and landed on my butt. The spinal jarring seemed to knock some sense into me. I sank my head into my arms and calmed my breathing.

"Stupid."

"Oh crap." I said, but it was spoken more like, "Ocrap." Because that's all I had time for. I was on my feet. That same steel fear overtook me again. With a small snap there emerged one, two, three, four . . . seven of them, that I can see. Yep. That awful smell. I can smell it, now. Freakin' smoke has wreaked hell on my sinuses.

They stumbled from their hiding places in an eerie coordination, and that moaning escaped their lips. Surrounded. I can do this. My nine is in my waistband. Ammo in my pocket. I recounted. Ten. Gotta move.

They are coming together, forming a circle. Is that possible. My heart is vibrating in my throat.

One weakness.

There. Between an old woman, and a painfully thin man. I ran at them both. They reached for me, their moans turning into a howl. Must have been hungry, these creatures. I just ran. I felt the impact as I knocked them over. I heard a head crack the ground hard, that solid thonk! of a skull hitting a hard surface. I would have looked back but I was too scared to. I ran.

I must have woken the whole town. They were everywhere.

Tree. Find a tree. I was running past burnt trees, fallen over trees, trees with no foliage. None of them had foliage. So dry, this place. I had my water. I could last in the trees until . . . until what? Until the shell-shocked shut-ins at the church came for me? No. No. There was no guarantee. Still running I faced a series of choices. Back to the church, or into the darkness? Bring the monsters to the food, or draw them away? At that point came the question; live or die? I was running toward the church. I slid to a stop. I could see the lump on the roof of the chapel that represented Mike (I think). I threw up my hands and shook them, warning him off. I hoped he was watching.

I nodded at him, and rose one hand in the air. I pointed at him, then pointed at my hand. Zed was closing in, but I waited. Slowly the lump rose its hand.

He was watching. I signaled for him to be quiet. I pointed at the Zed, then at myself. Then I made my decision. I pointed north by northeast. And I ran.

My ankle was holding up fine. Felt great, in fact.

So I ran away from the chapel. Into the darkness. I heard several feet padding after me. "Where." I breathed, "Did they all . . . come from?" That was what was really getting to me. The more I tried to understand these creatures, the more monstrous they became. Mythological, ethereal, spooks, ghouls . . . monsters. There was nothing simple about them. They weren't just teeth with feet. They lurked. They hid. They hunted.

But what about the swarm? Why weren't these ones picked up?

The padding feet behind me began to ebb. I looked back. They stopped suddenly. All of them. All at once. They watched me leave, and then dispersed like a crowd no longer interested in what was happening. The dissolved into the darkness. I stopped running. What impulse took me, I again cannot be sure. But I started yelling.

"AAAAAAH. HEEEEEY! OVER HERE! AAAAAAAH" Waving my arms over my head. I began creeping back toward them, my gun suddenly in my hand.

"Come on." I whispered. "Come on."

There. The wobbling heads. I had regained their interest. I rose the gun.

PAP! POW! PAK! Three down. More of them coming. Seven rounds left.

POW! PAK! PAK! Three more.

POK! POK! PAP! My ears were ringing. POW!

Click*

I ejected the clip, which clattered to the ground. "Crap." I picked it up. Hands shaking. I fumbled around something bad reloading that clip. Stupid. Only got seven rounds in before they got too close. I slammed the clip home, cocked the weapon, and backed away quickly.

POW! PAK! PAK! POK! Four flashes of light. Four times, a familiar face. I dropped the gun to my side.

Four Zed advancing. I backed away, losing feeling in my legs. POW! PAK! PAP!

Click*

I stood there, my stupid gun empty. The last Zed reached out for me with both arms. I grabbed its wrists and held it tight. It turned its head, ogling at me, its mouth opening and closing. All I could do was stare at it.

The tears coursed down my cheeks. I could hardly speak, "Scott." It snapped at me harmlessly.

Scotty. Scott-o. He didn't make it. My face scrunched up in fury, "I want you to know," I whispered, "That I came looking for you, buddy." It moaned at me.

In a flash I had flipped him around, and put him in a head lock. It struggled feebly. "I'm sorry, my friend." A quick jerk, a dry pop. He went limp.

I didn't want to leave him here, alone. More Zed were coming. I hefted him onto my shoulders. In retrospect, a pretty bad idea, but I did it all the same. I stepped off the road, and meandered into the darkness. Zed followed, but I lost them over a barbed-wire fence. Scott and I headed into the foothills together. The sky turned pink as I crested the hill.

I looked down into the valley. They were everywhere, wandering the fields. I heard a couple of shots from Summit. I suddenly felt extremely tired. I propped Scott up on a mound of earth, and waited for an energy burst. It was slow in coming. The heat began. Soon it was sweltering. I swear it was September. When would this summer end? Regardless I got to work. I checked his pockets. He had a small pocket knife, a few rounds for his gun, and a note in a ziplock bag. I fetched it out, unfolded it, and read.

"This seems stupid." it began, "Like if I get blown up, or if I lose my clothing. No one will read my note then. Or if they find it in a discarded pair of jeans it won't make sense. My name is Scott Redwyn. I am 18 years old. I am from Cedar City, Utah. My family is dead. My friends are dead. All except for one. I hope this note finds him. His name is Martin Ashton, and he's an amazing guy. You hear that, Martin? You're awesome. Thanks for being my friend. I want you to know that I did not mean for this to happen. I hope that I don't die a zombie, but you never know in this place. If I do I hope I don't kill anyone." Here the writing changes, "She didn't bite me, Martin. I don't know who did. I ran into a few of them outside Summit. One of them got me. I've bitten my barrel seven times, Martin, but I just can't do it I can't pull the trigger. It's supposed to be hot outside, but I am so cold. I'm so cold. Sometimes I think I see my mom, Martin. Sometimes I . . ."

I folded the note, and put it in my pocket. My face was soaking wet with tears. Scott.

In a shaded area, underneath a big cedar the earth was soft and, a few inches down, moist.

I dug for hours, but it still ended up being a shallow grave. It didn't matter. This was a pretty place.

I buried my friend.

Then I cried. I curled up on the ground next to him, and wept. I'll admit it. Couldn't help it. The sense of loneliness and isolation only worsened with the tears. I missed my family. They must be dying, worrying about me. That made me cry all the harder. I would get to them soon. I slept in the sweltering heat of this southern Utah day, comfortable, and still.