After the plague that had transformed most of the world into these blood- thirsty beasts, they had quickly disappeared during the day. Even regular light seemed intolerable to them at first, and sunlight was something they outright hated. But now, artificial light did little to dissuade them, and the sun was no guarantee of safety either.
“This does not look good for me,” Jacob said. Hiding when the sun went down was bad enough, but having to hide in the daytime wouldn’t do either, for his survival or his sanity. Living in “fortress mode” twenty four hours a day may just do him in.
The question was where to go? Yes, he could escape Toronto with little problem, but he had no idea where was safe. Canada was vast, but those things were likely to be everywhere. And he didn’t want to live forever looking over his shoulder. He didn’t want to live like a prisoner.
He had the urge to grab his rifle and take out of few of the lurking monsters, but he didn’t want show his hand. Not until he had a better idea of why they were watching him. No, their time would come soon enough. Or his.
August 7th
Jacob sat in the marina, trying to catch his dinner on a windless, sunny day. Fish was supposed to be brain food – maybe it would help him figure out his zombie problem.
As he watched the boats floating in the marina, he wondered if could fix one to fish in deeper water. Bigger fish meant more food, and it would get him out of the city. Two good things, he decided, and left his pole to test the boats. As expected, none of the bigger ones had keys. He found a small boat with and outboard motor, but it wouldn’t start. Yet.
It took a few hours, but with persistence, he succeeded, a victory worth celebrating with a drink from the dockside bar. He took the bottle of warm beer to the boat, along with his fishing gear and paddles in case of engine failure, and headed out for bigger fish.
After ten minutes on the quiet water, he cut the engine and cast his line. He wasn’t an accomplished fisherman, but he did well enough to supply himself with a few days’ worth of food.
As he sat in the boat, he looked out over the water, gazing first at still-beautiful skyline of Toronto, then towards the islands to the south. Things were quiet there, he would guess. And a realization came to him that should have come far earlier: The islands would be safe from the zombies.
Jacob felt both exultation and disgust, the latter because he should have had this realization a year ago. Still, it was perfect. He would be surrounded by water, with a plentiful supply of food in the form of fish, and he could grow crops, too. Finally, he would be free.
Well, eventually. There may be some zombies on the islands, but once gone, there wouldn’t be any more. He could handle whatever was waiting for him there. And with renewed hope, he had a plan.
August 8
It was an easy decision to leave almost everything in Casa Loma. Only the food and weapons were worth the effort. All the other sundries he could find in his new home, wherever it was going to be.
He would need special equipment for this trip, though. He didn’t know how many zombies were on the island, but he was intent on killing them all. And with their newfound tolerance of daylight, he wanted to be prepared. Thus, a trip to the police station.
As Jacob picked his way through the station, he found no weapons – they had been taken long ago – but he did find three valuable pieces: A flak jacket, riot helmet, and shield. He smiled as he threw them into the back of his truck for the short drive back to the castle. This was not the island vacation he had always wanted, but it would do.
Tomorrow would probably be his last day in the castle. He hadn’t decided if he would stay on the island for the winter, or return to the city. It would depend on his food supply. That decision could wait.
Back at the castle, he walked through the grand hall and up the carpeted stairs to the second floor. A shallow wave of nostalgia washed over him – he would actually miss this place. A little.
Jacob stopped.
Something wasn’t right.
He slowly pulled out his pistol and stood perfectly still. He was standing alone in the wide hallway, a dozen open doors on either side, and late afternoon sunlight shining through the windows. It was an ordinary scene, but there was something else going on here.
He crept across the carpeted floor, to the first room. He took a calming breath, then slipped through the doorway.
Empty.
As were the following eleven rooms. He reached the last room in the hall, tensed for an attack, but found it empty as well.
Jacob relaxed with a relieved laugh. He was being paranoid, but that had helped keep him alive far longer than everyone else. He strolled through the blue-wallpapered room, past an antique bedroom set, and to the window covered by sheer white curtains, pushing them aside to view his garden, overgrown as it was.
And in the garden, standing in the shade, was a pale figure, like so many he had seen before.
A zombie. In broad daylight.
They were here.
He backed away from the windows, and ran through the room, hallway, and up the stairs to the third floor.
The stairs ended in a hallway similar to that on the second. He ran to the entrance to his tower, hoping to reach safety before other arrived.
In the dim light of the circular room stood dozens of zombies.
Jacob slid to a halt on the smooth wooden floor, but not before they saw him. A collective screech rose from the creatures as he fled, the seething mass behind him.
He sprinted through the hallway and down the stairs to the second floor. Two quick turns and he ducked into an ordinary-looking room, but one that held a secret: A hidden staircase. Every castle needed its secret passages, and this was Casa Loma’s, one that went from a second floor bedroom to a first-floor study. He had thought it quaint before – he found it a lifesaver now. He had barely eased the panel closed when the beasts rushed past in their frenzied pursuit.
The stairs creaked with every step as he descended in blackness. He felt his way to the end of the passage and eased the exit open to reveal a staid study with a desk and bookshelves, one empty of zombies. In the first-floor hallway outside, several ran past, hunting him.
One pounced into the room, searching. Jacob tensed as it grew close to his hiding place. A second joined, their bestial faces close to the panel where he hid, but neither noticed him. They left as suddenly as they had entered, rejoining the pack in the search.
Jacob slid out and crouched behind the desk, his back against the wall, a window above his head. The activity diminished as the search moved to other areas of the castle. He glanced out the window. There, under the portico, was his truck. Coast clear, he unlatched opened the window.
To the left, zombies were searching by the entrance. To the right, several more rounded the corner, slowly searching the grounds. Neither group saw him.
A shriek sounded behind him, and Jacob spun, his two quick shots downing the zombie as it raced across the room. It crawled towards him as Jacob leapt upon the sill and out onto the grass.
The gunshot had given him away, and they were rushing towards him from both sides. He sprinted towards the truck, fired at the closest zombies, and scrambled inside, just ahead of the pack.
A zombie hit the side of the truck, slamming his fists into the window as Jacob shifted into drive and roared out of the driveway, zombies sprinting behind him. Another appeared in the street in front of him, and Jacob rammed it, its body crushed underneath the speeding truck.
He tore through the neighborhood to get away from his pursuers, weaving through streets. Another close escape – this was not good for his nerves.
The Toronto neighborhoods blurred by as he raced away from his old home and to his new. He was done with this city. Zombies in the dark were bad enough, but now he had zombies in the daylight. In the mirror, he saw them pouring from the trees near Casa Loma.
He slowed as he came to a long-ago accident scene, creeping around the overturned cars blocking the intersection.
A screeching zombie appeared on his windshield, thrashing at Jacob and trying to get inside. Startled, his grip loosened and the truck scraped to a stop against a telephone pole. Two more reached the driver’s side, one pounding on the glass and the other grabbing for the door handle. Jacob realized that he had not locked the door.
It jerked open, but only a few inches, the pole preventing the creatures from opening it all the way. The zombie reached one hand into the cabin, grabbing Jacob’s arm and yanking him backwards. Jacob beat the thing’s arm, trying to break its tight grip. Its face pressed in the opening, trying to bite his shoulder which was only inches away.
Jacob fumbled with the console. It opened and he grabbed a screwdriver from inside, stabbing the hand holding him. The zombie shrieked and released its grip. Jacob gunned the truck, and it tore free as more zombies closed in from behind.
His nightmare was becoming an even worse nightmare.
The truck shot past City Hall, where he had played poker not long ago. Those friends were all dead now – he was the last human in the city. And he was leaving. He raced down Bay towards the water and his escape.
In his peripheral vision, he could see them, lurking in the stores and side streets. They no longer feared the daylight.
A flash and it was in front of him, one of the zombies running in front of the truck. Jacob swerved, but still struck the zombie. It crumpled, and the truck fishtailed as he spun the wheel trying to maintain control. But with a crunch, the truck slid into a lamppost and stopped.
His door was yanked open, and a hand gripped his forearm. Jacob grabbed the steering wheel – it was the only thing holding him inside. He stomped his foot, searching for the pedal as the zombie continued pulling on him. His third attempt found it, and the truck lurched forward, careening towards a building on the opposite side of the street. The zombie held on, growling. Jacob had one hand on the wheel, half of his body pulled outside by the zombie.
A bank loomed in front, and Jacob twisted the wheel just enough to avoid a head-on collision. The truck scraped against the façade, and the zombie released its grip as it was crushed between the truck and the wall. Sparks flew as the truck raced down the sidewalk, then Jacob veered back onto the street. His ears rang and his shoulder ached, but he was still alive.
It was clearly a race now, whether they could overwhelm him before he could reach safety. He was going to give them a hell of a run.
Daylight flashed to night and back as he barreled under a freeway. A sharp turn on Queens Quay, and he could see the water. He was very close now. But so were they – to his right, from the city, he could see more coming. He had little time left.
He raced beside the water until the very last moment, then slammed on the brakes and stopped in front of the docks. Grabbing only his riot gear and gun, he sprinted towards his boat.
With zombies closing in, Jacob climbed a ladder down to his boat, untied the line, and kicked the boat away from the dock. He had gotten the boat running earlier in the week, but it had always been a struggle.
Today was no exception.
The engine sputtered as Jacob attempted to start it. The boat slowly drifted away from the dock. He glanced up from his work to see the zombies pouring past his truck, running all out towards him.
He tried the pull rope again, and still the engine wouldn’t start. He cursed, tried again. The engine came to life!
Then died.
Jacob glanced up in time to see a zombie leaping across the water and into the boat. Jacob grabbed the closest weapon, a crowbar, and struck the thing as it scrambled to get its footing. The blow to the head knocked it prone, but another zombie leapt across. It stumbled as it tried to scramble over the corpse of the first attacker, and Jacob hammered it until it was still.
Reaching for his 9mm pistol, Jacob’s shot stopped the next one from ever making it off the dock, and the one that followed leapt, but fell short. With a brief respite, Jacob spun and tried the engine gain.
The engine started, and stayed alive.
The boat gained speed and he headed for the open waters, a dock full of zombies behind him with more on the way. A fitting goodbye party, Jacob thought, as he shoved the zombie corpses off his boat.
The sun set over the city as he left it behind. He was away, he was safe. He looked back, and it seemed as though the zombies had come to wish him farewell. The dozens had turned to hundreds, and they lined the waterfront, screeching and growling.
He gave them the finger.
As he reached the halfway point between the marina and the islands, Jacob cut the engine. It was too late to try to safely reach the islands tonight. Instead, he dropped anchor. It was a calm, late-summer evening. The air was warm, the water still, and the zombies were far away.
And of the things beneath, he thought nothing.
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