This is the twelfth chapter of the zombie serial The Dead Life. You can learn more about the story over at the project hub. This series originally ran on Haunted MTL but is being edited and updated in the lead-up to new installments to continue the story.
You can read the prior chapter here.
Day 17
Lunch consisted of a single loaf of canned meat split five ways, a box of crumbled crackers, and some sun-brewed tea. This was the most any of them had eaten in what seemed like days.
They sat in silence for a while, in the “conference” room. It wasn’t much more than an office with a large table located just behind the front counter of the main office. Once upon a time, it had served as a meeting place for the employees, back when Dani’s parents were still in California. Since then, it had become a storage room, and since the arrival of Jimmy and Edgar, it had become a dining room, of sorts. The room took on new life after the death of the world. The irony was not lost on Dani.
Sandy broke the silence.
“Does anyone want another glass?”
Edgar looked up from his crumbs. He had wet his thumb to pick up the stray remains of crackers. He held out his glass. “Please,” he replied.
Sandy took his paper cup and filled it with the last of the tea.
“I have a couple more brewing. The last of my mix.”
Edgar took the small cup and took a large gulp from it. Jimmy sipped at his tea, contemplating.
Bob wasn’t at the table. Instead, he was near the door, seated in an office chair, carefully looking over the makeshift repairs on the front door. Only one of the two doors had shattered, but that was still a large hole to fill. A couple of bookshelves laden with heavy boxes of books had done a lot to reinforce the cardboard and plywood. With the moving truck parked just in front of the door, there was little chance of a ghoul having enough leverage to push inside.
In truth, it was mostly cardboard, and Dani knew it made Bob nervous. He’d said as much, several times today. The moving truck in front of the entrance was an extra layer of protection, sure, but what he needed was plywood, maybe more shelves, and boxes, too. “For his peace of mind,” he’d said again, several times today.
Dani sat at the table, finishing up the last bite of cold Spam. She’d taken small bites, hoping to make the meager meal last. She stared at her now-empty plate, still hungry, still miserable. Had it been worth it to stick around? There was safety here, sure, but it was all relative, and safety seemed like a secondary concern when the hunger pangs started. They needed food. Now.
She coughed, something between a tired cough and seeking attention. She spoke. “I think we need to go on a supply run.”
Bob turned his gaze toward her and nodded. He rose from his seat near the door and took a seat at the table.
“I think you’re right. We should do it today. We still got light out there,” he added.
Jimmy nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Let me help. Saw a couple of stores nearby. We can check them out.”
Dani shook her head.
“It’s too risky to hit multiple places right now. We’re in no big hurry. We need to get the most out of one place and then regroup.”
“What do you think?” Bob asked.
Dani wiped at her forehead with the heel of her palm, a habit she’d inherited from her dad. There were a number of options all within a couple of blocks. There was a Market Bros. just down Acacia, and down Lyon, there was a drug store, one of the huge chains that had a little bit of everything.
Dani looked over at Sandy. She seemed lost in thought.
“How are we for medication?” Dani asked.
Sandy peered around for a moment and shook her head slightly, aware enough to answer the question.
“We don’t have a whole lot. We only had a basic first aid kit here, and even that was mostly empty. Other than that, Bob and I have our prescriptions and personal medications, I assume.”
Edgar lit a blunt. “Don’t forget about all that dope you got from us.”
“I don’t smoke that garbage,” Sandy sneered.
Edgar shrugged. “Your loss.”
Sandy glared at Edgar, who was nearly twice her size by weight alone. Jimmy punched Edgar on his arm, making him drop his blunt.
“Hijo de puta.”
“Respect, Edgar. We’re guests.”
Edgar picked up his joint from the table and took a big drag. “My apologies.”
Dani grabbed a legal pad that sat at the center of the table and began scrawling some notes. She thought out loud as she wrote.
“I think Jimmy, Edgar, and me -”
“I,” Jimmy added. “The pronoun you would use for the sentence if it were just you would be the one that comes at the end of the list.”
Dani cast a furtive glance at him and grunted. “I didn’t finish the sentence.” She continued, “Anyway, we can hit the Walman’s about a block down. Provided the place hasn’t been cleaned out, we should be able to get food and medication there.”
Dani glanced at Jimmy. He smirked at her.
Sandy coughed. She looked at the trio, eyes darting between Dani, Edgar, and Jimmy. She then gave Dani a pointed gaze, a warning gaze.
“Are you sure, Danielle?”
Dani didn’t have time for Sandy’s paranoia.
“I’m sure. We’d better get going now.”
She rose to her feet, and Jimmy stood up nearly as quickly. Edgar rolled his eyes, took a huge drag off his blunt, and begrudgingly rose to follow as the other two stepped away.
Dani handed Bob the legal pad as she passed by his side of the table. He placed his hand on her hand as he grabbed the pad. It was a reassuring gesture, and Dani squeezed Bob’s hand.
“What’s this, kid?”
“Some rough plans. You’ll keep watch?”
“We’ll keep watch,” Bob nodded. He looked over at Sandy.
Edgar stepped toward Bob and passed him the joint. Bob nodded and took a drag, following behind the other three.
Sandy looked miserable at the idea of leaving the relative safety of the building. Regardless, she trudged out the door after everyone else.
…
The rattle of the side gate as Bob dragged it open was like a sudden and furious thunderstorm. Everything was so quiet now out in the world that the sound of the gate probably carried a significant distance. Maybe blocks away. Ghouls would be attracted to the sound, he figured.
Gate open, Bob stepped aside as the Cadillac drove through. Dani sat in the back seat and gave Bob a short wave. He was glad he’d had her tuck another gun into her jacket. He wasn’t suspicious of the two men beyond inherent reason, but he also knew better than to be unarmed in any situation. He’d learned that much in ‘Nam. The two dead guerrillas that tried to catch him unawares as he took a piss had been a hard, but important lesson.
The Cadillac drove into the street and made a left. They were on their own now.
Bob slid the gate shut and took a length of chain and a padlock to it. Content with the security measures, he stepped into the nearest unit on the lot and took a seat in one of the salvaged lawn chairs. Sandy sat impatiently in the golf cart, stewing.
Bob placed the legal pad on the TV-tray next to his chair. He looked it over and noticed there were a lot of notes in tiny, cramped handwriting. He’d expected Danielle’s writing to be tidy. Why he expected that, he didn’t know. He’d just assumed.
The notes seemed scattered, but he saw where she was heading with them. There were some good ideas. He’d need to talk them over when she got back. Maybe over some beers. He’d asked her to grab him a six-pack if she could.
God, he hoped she could.
He leaned back in the chair and stared out of the unit and down toward the other end of the property. He was already feeling tired, but didn’t want to risk sleeping and being caught off guard.
“What do you think these things are, Sandy?” He tried to fight the fatigue with conversation.
Sandy glanced and shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe some kind of mutant or something?”
“Like those old sci-fi movies?”
“I guess. I don’t know. I generally don’t believe in that stuff, but God works in mysterious ways.”
Bob leaned forward in his chair. Now this was interesting.
“Y’all still believe in God after all this?”
Sandy smiled, albeit faintly. She looked a little sad, but there was an air of resolve to her as well.
“Of course I do. God is why I’ve survived.”
Bob scratched his chin with a chipped thumbnail. He hadn’t really considered the existence of God much, at least since his late twenties, which were spent knee-deep in rice paddies and being shot at by the Vietnamese. Sandy was maybe thirty years younger than him and hadn’t had the pleasure of such experiences. Her position made a bit more sense, taking that into account.
“Y’know, it’s probably some sort of chemical thing,” he suggested. ”Lotta weird stuff tested by the government over the years. My uncle was one of those who was caught up in that secret syphilis thing back in the fifties – that thing Clinton mentioned a couple of years back. Probably some experiment gone wrong. Bringing back the dead like that. Spook shit.”
Sandy shook her head.
“They’re not dead.”
“Excuse me?”
“The only way the dead could rise is at God’s hand, and I don’t see God in any of this. They’re sick with something. They’re crazy. But only one man ever truly rose from the dead. It was Jesus Christ.” She locked eyes with Bob, and after a moment, averted her gaze to the gate.
Bob rolled his eyes. Of course, she was a zealot. Fuck.
…
Sandy stepped off the cart and began to pace a bit. She didn’t seem to enjoy being idle here in the open. She was on the wrong end of 50, now, and her curled hair had gone unmanaged for weeks. She still carried a little bit of that middle-aged spread, but even that was now receding. She was noticeably beginning to shrink in other places, though. Though perhaps she had always been small and he’d failed to notice.
Bob leaned back in his chair.
“These things, they remind me of a movie I saw when I was on leave. Might have been ‘68? I was home for a bit, and I had no girlfriend, no real family besides a drunk-ass daddy, and I had money to burn.”
Sandy stopped pacing.
“Anyway, so I could have done something really damn stupid with that government money, but I just decided to go to the movies, right? I was back in New York, and there was a theater that ran a few movies together for one price. You go there and spend hours watching shit and eating popcorn. Good times. A lot of horror flicks, sometimes a nudie stitched in.”
“What was the movie?” she asked.
“I don’t remember the name, but it was something with Vincent Price as the last man in a world surrounded by these vampire freaks. They were smarter than these dead shits we are dealing with, but I definitely see some similarities now that I think about it.”
“How did the movie end?”
“Vincent Price died. I guess that’s the only ending that would make sense.”
Sandy took a seat in the golf cart. She leaned over the steering wheel.
“No more happy endings,” she muttered.
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