“Oh, right. Yeah I guess it’s not all that bad. For dancing. But not just listening to.”
“If you don’t want to just listen, then dance.” Dean said.
“That would depend upon the song.” Billie said, flipping her hair and donning a prim expression.
I laughed and approached the dusty player, searching for records.
“I have just the thing, then.” I said, finding a good one.
“What?” Dean asked.
“Glenn Miller.” I said.
“Who?” Sully asked.
“Listen and learn.” I said, cranking the handle.
Moonlight Serenade started to play, one of the few songs that I truly enjoyed dancing to.
Billie grabbed Sully’s hand and pulled him to the middle of the room where they waltzed happily.
“May I have this dance?” Dean asked me, holding out his hand.
I curtsied, smirking. “If only they would have told us we’d be ballroom dancing after the apocalypse.” I said.
“We’d probably still be laughing.” Sully said with a chuckle.
We swayed to the music, twirling around each other in careful box steps, the song sweeping over us, carrying away all the worries of zombies and our inevitable death. It hurt my feet to move so quickly, but I ignored it, focusing on the first normal thing we’d done in who knew how long.
The song ended too soon but started a more upbeat tune, In the Mood. We switched partners and Sully and I fox-trotted back and forth around the sitting room, navigating the furniture a little clumsily, knocking into tables and chairs, our laughter getting louder each time. The twins lapped us, skipping ahead past the spinning wheel.
“Ok, Ok. I need to take a break. My feet are killing me.” Billie said in the silence between songs.
“Me too,” I said, sinking into a chair. “Feels like my feet are bleeding again.”
I checked the gauze taped to my feet and found small spots of blood forming all over it.
“Great,” I said, rolling my eyes.
The trumpet blared in the next song, covering the sound of the basement door creaking open.
Chapter 30
The little boy lumbered nearer, his shoulder dragging quietly along the wall. We didn’t notice him until he was a few paces behind me.
Dean’s eyes grew wide. “Shit! Behind you!” He shouted.
I turned, alarmed. The boy reached out to me, his hands like claws.
I almost fell out of the chair in my hurry to back away.
The boy let out a low, moaning growl and sank his hands into the back of the chair, knocking it down and away from him. He tripped over its legs, falling to the ground right in front of me.
I snatched the gun up, aiming it between his eyes. It clicked. I pulled the trigger again, and it only clicked.
“Damn it.” I said. “I’m empty!” The boy crawled forward a few inches. “Guys?” I said.
“Shit, shit, shit. We don’t have any of the guns in the house!” Sully yelled, frantic.
“What?” I screamed.
The boy scratched at me, his dull fingers sweeping my leg, not strong enough to leave a mark.
I threw the gun at him and it glanced off his head. He stopped moving momentarily, stunned, but quickly resumed his crawling, struggling to rise.
My eyes darted around the room, looking for an effective weapon. Sitting at the edge of the fireplace was a heavy cast iron poker, the sharp end resting against a burning log. Billie beat me to it and pulled it out, swinging it down with a surprising force, splitting the boy-zombie’s head like a watermelon. The jostled log rolled out onto the area rug, catching the old fabric and swiftly igniting the surrounding furniture.
“Get out of here, now!” I ordered. We fled to the window and shoved hard against the board, working the nails out of the frame.
There was crashing behind us, and I turned just in time to see three fully grown adult zombies stumbling out of the basement door and shambling swiftly our way.
We pushed harder, frantic to get out. The wood gave way and my friends slid out one by one. It was just me and Sully left when the zombie family reached us.
“Go. I’ll be right behind you!” I said, grabbing a knitting needle from the shelf next to us and rammed it into the eye of the elderly male. He crumpled instantly, his brain speared. The old woman fell just as quickly when I jabbed a long pair of scissors up through her soft palate, severing her brain stem.
The inferno had engulfed most of the room, the thin boards supporting the house creaking and groaning with a frightening frequency. The old home wasn’t going to hold up much longer.
“Come on!” My friends beckoned.
I was about to launch myself through the open window the younger zombie woman clenched onto my arm and drug me backwards to the center of the room.
Flames licked the walls and furnishings all around us, the heat almost unbearable. My dress was singed in places, smoke rolling up from steadily growing holes.
I struggled against the woman’s vice-like grip, feeling bruises already beginning to form. I latched onto her wrist with both hands and twisted, throwing her onto a blazing table, the wood cracked under her as she released my throbbing arm.
It felt like my skin was melting off of me as I made a mad dash for the window and climbed through seconds before a resounding crack echoed behind me, the house buckling inward.
“You’re on fire!” Dean said, alarmed.
“Huh?” I said, looking down. My dress was in tatters, tiny flames working their way around my body, turning my skin black with soot. As I watched, it started to sting.
“Ouch!” I gasped, dropping to the ground and rolling to put out the flames. “We need to get out of here.” I said, leaping to my feet when I was no longer smoldering.
We raced to the truck, the heat chasing us, sweating more and more as the flames spread to the trees and grass around us, making their way to the houses nearby.
Dean slid into the driver’s seat, gunning the engine as soon as our doors were closed. The force pushed me back as we swung around, heading out to the open desert miles off. I thought we were going to flip, we were going so fast. I didn’t know how Dean could control the truck. It wasn’t meant for this kind of speed.
By the time we decided we were far enough away, the flames looked like they had engulfed the entire neighborhood and were still spreading fast.
We spilled out of the truck, staring back at the fire like it was a monster ready to devour us.
What have we done? What has this world come to? As if the disease ravaged population wasn’t enough- if people rising from the dead and turning cannibalistic wasn’t the worst part of this new life- there was now no turning back. We were killers. I was a killer. Buildings burned in our wake, dead bodies followed us wherever we went.
Billie placed her hand in mine, squeezing tightly, her other hand in her brother’s. Sully approached my other side, hesitating a moment before throwing his arm around me. Resting my head on his shoulder, I whispered.
“I just want to go home,”
No one answered. No one needed to.
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Amber White
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Other books available from the author: Tonight the World Dies
If you enjoyed this book, you may also enjoy ‘Self Aware’ a zombie novel from author Steven Wolf
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