As darkness fell and the heavier rains came, his taut body softened. The loud rain began to drown out her moans. It relieved him. He took another sip as his eyes fell closed. He was fast asleep as she still pounded away.
CHAPTER 4
Nate gasped. A violent shake awoke him from his deep slumber. His skin was cold and clammy. Sunlight from the storefront windows bathed his face and body. He rubbed his blurry eyes as his heart thundered in his chest. The double glass doors were still intact. Jeanine was still there, too.
Her head was now sticking through the glass and her jaw clutched opened and closed. It made him think of a glass stockade, but crueler. The only thing keeping her from pushing through were the tiny wires holding the safety glass intact. Nate grimaced as he could see the glass cutting into her neck. She made no effort to force her way back out, only forward. She was stuck, but the moaning continued.
“I can’t take it anymore!” he yelled.
He got up growling. He noticed his leg was swollen and purple from the knee down. He grabbed a plastic bottle of Mountain Dew and limped over to face her. As he came closer, her mouth snapped open and closed like a cow chewing its cud.
“Sorry baby, I know you hate this stuff,” he said, shoving the bottle, cap first, into her mouth.
If Jeanine had a flaw, it was talking too much. He fantasized about doing that many times before. She hissed in and out of her nose, as her wide mouth was filled with the green bottle over half way in. He stepped back, eyes looking about. An eerie sensation of peace fell over him. The moaning was gone.
She crunched down on the bottle that was stuck in her mouth. Green carbonation squirted into the air. Shaking her head back and forth, the bottle remained. He limped over and grabbed the bat.
This is it. Got to do it!
He looked into her dark, long-lashed eyes and knew nobody was home. There was no other way. It was her or him. Until death do us part.
As he approached, he could see her perfect white teeth biting deep into the bottle. It pinched inward and her eyes widened as she sucked on the bottle.
“What the hell?”
She seemed to be drinking it. Green fluid dripped down her chin and gashed neck. He could hear a wheezing and sucking sound coming from her. The bottle began to empty and started to collapse as if it were squeezed by a hand. The bottle fell and rattled on the tiled floor. He looked at her, the bottle, then back at her. He approached with the bat raised high. Her listless face was silent. He watched as she struggled to pull her head free, her eyes catching his, passing him over like he wasn’t there. The hunger and aggression were gone. She was just stuck inside the glass, trapped like an animal, not knowing what to do.
“Now what?” he said, setting down the bat.
He waited minute after minute. The store was becoming hotter as the sun rose further. It was past noon and it must have been a hundred degrees inside. There wasn’t a window to open. He had to pee and he headed for a bathroom in the back. His ears and mind were monitoring any signs of danger.
“Ah!” he said as he began to pee.
It was the most relief he had felt in forever. He walked back out and there she was, moving very little, a defeated creature. He felt bad for her all of a sudden. Did the soft drink cure her? What was going on? He took over another bottle and twisted off the lid. Her black eyes glimmered up at him. Her arms pressed the glass from the other side as the jagged edges had her neck still caught. Nate poured some to her lips. She didn’t try to bite, but licked her lips with her blackening tongue. He noticed the liquid running down through a hole in her neck.
“Ugh!” he said, stepping away and spitting.
Her eyes were fixed on the bottle now. He had to get out of there though, as the sweltering heat was too much. The key was still in the lock. He crouched down and slid over to it. He reached up, unlocked it, and slid back away. She pushed the door in and she pulled it back out. It was in slow motion as she went in and out, back and forth, legs shuffling over the sweep. It reminded him of a cartoon and a revolving door. He stuffed some pop bottles in his backpack, along with some candy, nuts and protein bars.
Here we go. He mustered his courage and as she backed out again he shoved himself past her. He was free. Yes! He hid behind the gas pumps and waited. She kept moving back and forth. He checked his smart phone. One green bar showed with twenty percent battery power remaining. Just get a car and go!
He walked around the building. No cars. There wasn’t a single one to be seen. He saw the backyards of tiny houses nearby with sheds on many lawns. There has to be a bike in there. He limped into one fenced yard. It had a decent-sized storage barn in the back. He straddled the rail and he fell onto the other side.
“Ow!”
The barn was padlocked. He knocked the lock off after several swings with the bat. He jerked open the doors and a pair of Schwinn mountain bikes hung in the back.
“Yes!” he said, pumping his fist. “Thank you Jesus!”
He lifted one bike down and got on. The pedaling was excruciating as he wobbled at first, but he was fine, he was moving. Taking the road, he rounded back in front of the convenience store. Jeanine wasn’t there.
“Shit!”
He tried turning his head every direction at once, but she was gone. Fear filled him from head to toe as he listened for her. Nothing but the wind was with him, and very little of that.
He pushed off and pedaled around the store three times. He looked up and down the roads. All he saw were small houses and buildings, lined up side-by-side, with overgrowing lawns. Something crept up through his spine as he stopped back in front of the store. A large chunk of broken glass was crumpled on the ground. His heart jumped as he heard rustling coming from the inside, and that’s when he saw her. She was wandering the aisles and knocking things onto the floor.
“Jeanine!” he yelled. No response.
He backed away, still straddling the bike. Now what? He got off the bike and walked inside. He poured more soda into a large cup and set it on the ground. She lumbered towards the cup and kicked it over, spilling the contents onto the floor. She kneeled to the ground and licked it up like a dog, every bit, giving Nate a disturbing feeling. I can’t believe this. He wanted to cry. She grabbed the cup and tried to eat it. Nate had a crazy idea.
He poured a path of the soda along the floor and outside. He set the bottle at the end of the path. She lapped it up as she crawled on her hands and knees. He took out his smart phone and recorded her.
He held the phone high in the air. He got two green signal bars. He uploaded the file on You Tube reading: “ZOMBIES LIKE MOUNTAIN DEW! MUST WATCH!”
He posted a tweet: “MOUNTAIN DEW WILL STOP THE ZOMBIES!”
His smart phone died.
CHAPTER 5
A dog was barking somewhere, followed by more barks and howls. Nate hadn’t heard them before. Now they seemed to come from everywhere. Even cats were darting across the abandoned streets.
He left Jeanine behind at the store. As he pedaled around the small town he noticed a Sheriff’s detachment and came to a stop. He dismounted the mountain bike and limped to the door. It was open.
“Hello?” he said, waiting. He clutched his bat as he stepped inside.
It was a small red brick building with a teller window inside. This is where they pay taxes and fines I bet. A small waiting room was enclosed with three hard plastic chairs illuminated by glass-block windows. Another heavy duty door waited before him.
He pressed his ear to the steel door and closed his eyes. He heard nothing. He turned the knob, but it was locked. He kicked at the door, but it didn’t give in. It just made his leg hurt even more. He grabbed one of the chairs and tossed it through the teller window with a loud crash, shattering glass all over the floor.
He sat up on the counter, careful of the glass, and slid to the other side. There were a couple of offices in the back that he searched around. He looked in a small break room with a table,
chair, fridge and coffee pot. He checked the phone on one of the desks. There was a dial tone. He called 9-1-1. It was busy again. He slammed the handset to the ground saying, “Damn!”
He headed down a dimly lit hallway. There was a pair of small holding cells big enough for a few people. Handcuffs and keys were hanging from the wall. He clenched his fists and shook them. This is good. The shotgun rack was empty. That’s bad. He stepped inside the jail cell and pulled a soda from his backpack. He twisted off the cap, sitting down on a metal cot anchored to the wall, and took a long drink. He took another swallow, set the bottle down and closed his eyes. He thought about his next step. Maybe he could find power in the town somewhere. He froze with fear as he heard the sound of scraping glass.
His heart was racing on the inside. Someone or something must have heard him break the glass door. He exited the small cell with his bat gripped in two white-knuckled hands. Something was following him. The sound of the crunching glass ate at his soul. Was it another zombie? Would he dare to peer through the small square window in the door he tried to kick in earlier? He wiped the sweat from his eyebrows. Here goes.
He peaked and screamed, “Gah!” He dropped his bat and clutched his chest.
It was Jeanine’s face pressed into the window. How did she get here so fast!? He heard more scraping of glass as she dragged herself over the counter. He couldn’t move. He looked down at the bat. Grab it, idiot! It seemed like he was in slow motion as he picked it up and began to back pedal deeper into the corridor. He felt the cold cinder block wall on his back … a dead end. Sonuvabitch! Only one other cell remained. He heard her coming, and saw her long gashed leg cross into the light. Her head poked around the corner followed by the rest of her full body. She slowly came his way.
“No Jeanine! Please stop!” he cried, stepping inside the barred door.
He began to pull the door inward the further she came. He felt like a coward now. He had a weapon, but he couldn’t use it. Not on her. And what would happen if he didn’t kill her … she would eat him.
“I won’t be eaten! I won’t be eaten!”
She was passing the first cell and he could hear her say, “Num-Num. Num-Num.”
He could not make out her drooping face. She was a creepy silhouette of a woman with a dipping shoulder and a dangling arm. For someone that moved so slowly things seemed to be happening awfully fast. Nate realized he hadn’t grabbed the keys. If he locked himself in the holding cell he would starve. He could see the keys hanging on the wall at the beginning of the corridor. Idiot! Now Nate wasn’t sure which fate would be worse, being eaten or starving to death. Why me?
He shouted at the top of his lungs.
“Why me!”
Jeanine shuffled closer his way as Nate pulled the barred door further inward. Jeanine stopped, turned and entered the other cell. He stood transfixed as she looked through him. Huh? The light from the small window in the back of the jail cell displayed the scene as she reached over for his soda bottle sitting on the cot. He couldn’t feel his legs as he watched her pick it up. Shut the door, idiot!
He didn’t remember what happened next; fear and adrenaline wiped out his thoughts. Something slammed shut with a loud bang. He had her trapped inside. She didn’t seem to notice a thing.
“Num-Num ….”
CHAPTER 6
The other side of the phone line rang again and again. If it wasn’t ringing, it was a busy signal. Everything in the town was dead except for the phone lines. Nate sat in a recliner, propping up his aching leg. A dead television screen sat before him. A breeze billowed through the sheer curtains in the small home he occupied near the jail. Days had passed since he had locked Jeanine in the cell. He wanted to leave the town, but couldn’t. He was too scared, and his leg wasn’t getting better.
He loosened the bandages around his knee. That’s bad. The gash was infected, swelling his leg. His gout had flared up, making things worse. His bare foot was fat like a pillow. He shut the recliner, grimacing at the jolt, and slipped on a red flip-flop he had taken from the convenience store. He grunted as he stood. Using the bat as a cane, he hobbled over to the front door, opening it into the rising morning sun.
The sounds of birds chirping filled the air.
“Huh.”
No dogs lay at the door. The bowl of food he set out was empty.
“Time to feed my girlfriend, I guess,” he said, hobbling back down the street.
The bat echoed off the concrete sidewalk as he went. He had never felt so alone and trapped. Things were perfect a few months ago. There was a good job waiting for him once he finished his master's. He had a fine looking wife lined up, too. Now she was a zombie, along with the rest of the world. He wondered if he was the last man on earth and if he’d ever have Taco Bell again.
He had patched his leg up the best that he could, but the pain was a constant reminder that his purgatory wasn’t over yet. What did I do to deserve this? He didn’t have it in him to search for more medicine, and the town pharmacy was bare. Despair addled his brain as horrors lived in his sleep. He searched for a vehicle, but all he had was a bike. He couldn’t bend his leg now, and he could barely stand the pain. His entire purpose was to feed Jeanine her Mountain Dew and hope somebody from the living swung by on a golden chariot. Anything would do.
The sheriff’s depot was in sight just a couple blocks away. It would take forever to get there. He was looking inside the window of a bank thinking he could rob it. There was a pawn store too, but no guns and no ammo. He moved on. Why am I doing this? He tried to think of things he didn’t like about Jeanine. Being a zombie was the main thing, that and beating him at foosball. Her snorting laugh was annoying, but her giggles were cute.
“This time I’m gonna do it. I can do it. I can kill her. I’ll — kill — it!”
He tried to think of the last thing he killed. His face was a knot of concentration. I killed a squirrel with a pellet gun once. Oh …
“Yeah, I killed zombies.” Those zombies had been friends and family. He could see their ghoulish faces coming after him. He killed them … so why couldn’t he kill Jeanine? Maybe it was because the bat seemed like such an inhumane device. It was also a symbol of the best times they had together on the softball field. He kept moving and began to sob. For all he knew, the last one he would ever love was inside the building. He sighed just before he walked inside.
He entered the front door, stepping over the broken glass. The crackling underfoot stirred the hairs on his back. He didn’t hear anything as he closed his eyes. He pictured Jeanine inside the cell as she had always been. He saw her standing there, a smiling tomboy with freckles and a nice body for a tall girl. If God had a woman in mind for him, it was Jeanine.
He exhaled and stepped inside the dim corridor. He made his way down the hall, breathing heavily. He wiped the sweat from his face with his shirt. There she stood, in the middle of the cell, facing the sunlit window in the back. Her dark hair flowed down over her neck. Her jean shorts were riding up inside her full rear. Is that cellulite? He shook his head. Her shadowed figure seemed perfect. His heart pounded. Can it be?
“Jeanine,” he whispered.
The figure turned in slow motion. Her gored shoulder and dangling arm stopped his heart. The sunken black eyes were like deep wells, and the drooping jaw seemed to hang near the floor. No–No–No! It was all the same, only the day had changed. He looked down at the floor and all he could hear was a raspy breathing sound. A half-filled bowl of green soda lay on the floor. That’s interesting.
The bowl was filled when he left yesterday. Another full bottle sat on the cot. She didn’t drink much. Lost in thought he didn’t notice she crept up to the bars.
“Num-Num.”
He leaped back, almost falling to the floor. A fresh burst of pain lanced through his foot and leg. It was killing him.
“Geez Jeanine, you scared the shit out of me!” he yelled back, swinging the bat into the bars.
“Num-Num.”
“Go get your num-num! Dumb! Dumb!” Oh, that’s funny. Idiot!
Her face was lost like an abandoned child’s. The glassy black eyes were widened, without understanding. She backed away from the bars and began to kneel at the bowl. As Nate watched in disgust, something pricked at his ears. He moved back down the hall.
There was a different sound in the distance. He heard dogs barking from somewhere as he tilted his neck and shut his eyes. He looked back at his girlfriend, who was making loud lapping and slurping sounds. He headed toward the front door and stopped again. The sound grew louder and more distinct in his ears. Whatever it was, it was coming his way. A burst of energy empowered him.
He made his way into the bright sun and looked above. The noise seemed to be coming from the sun itself. He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked around. Louder and louder, the sound came. He saw a black speck appear in the sky. It got bigger with each passing second. He loved Vietnam movies and he knew that sound. Is that a helicopter?
“I can’t believe it’s a freaking helicopter!” he yelled as he hopped up and down, crossing his arms and bat high in the air. He was frantic with joy. It soared over his head bringing a whoosh of air, almost knocking him to the ground. He could see heads peering down at him from two hundred feet above.
“Come down! Come down!” he shouted.
The helicopter looked like an enormous bird of prey. It rounded over the town a couple more times and lowered itself to the street.
… THUWMP! THUWMP! THUWMP! THUWMP! THUWMP! THUWMP! THUWMP! THUWMP! THUWMP! THUWMP! THUWMP! THUWMP! …
The noise was music to his ears. It might as well have been angels who came out of it, once it landed. It was people, people in uniform, and Nate couldn’t believe his eyes. An impeccable man in a blue Air Force uniform with silver stars on his shoulder shouted over the roaring helicopter.
“Are you Nate McDaniel?”
“Yes!” he screamed.
“Are you sure?” the man said, his hand on Nate’s shoulder yelling in his ear.