No Zombie for a Neighbor
Part Two: Moving South
I stepped back in fear as the zombie dog worked its way through the hole in the door. While I probably could have stepped up and killed it with a blow from my crowbar, I had been putting my trust in not having a zombie threaten my personal space. Just having the creature where it could attack scared me. I also feared that a blow from me might not break through its skull, although might provide the force to enable it to move forward and actually fall into the room. I thus backed away.
It took me a moment, but I did remember the gun. While I had not used it, I now grabbed it and made sure that it was loaded. My arm was already sore from wielding the crowbar, but I did not concern myself with the pain as I pulled the trigger.
Elizabeth screamed with concern for why I had used the gun. I told her about the dog. It was enough of an explanation for her, and she told me to do what I needed to do.
It took time, but I did kill the children. I then sat with my back against the wall while listening for sounds that might indicate another zombie in the house. I really did not want to get up and face the carnage that I had caused, but seeing a zombie drop outside my window from Elizabeth’s spear, I realized that it was time for me to get back to work.
I had to move the bed, which meant that I had to unload it first. Finally, I however managed to open the door. After carefully moving over the bodies, I moved through the house. In the kitchen I saw a cell phone. While the zombies had scattered things about, the cell phone had been put to charge and the wire had kept it near the outlet. I grabbed it to make a call.
I knew my mother’s phone was out, but I we had planned for that. As modern active ladies, we did not depend on land lines to stay in touch. The only problem was that these were all new friends, but luckily I had written a number down and put the piece of paper in a back pocket.
I heard Sandra say, “Hello?”
“This is Livonia. The house is clear.”
“All right! Your work however has been pulling the zombies to you. Annette and I are thinking about going to the other house.”
Not only was there distance, but a fence. Coming to this house was highly dangerous, and we had chosen it because it was the safest decision. I thus did not feel certain about what I heard.
“Are you sure?”
“We think so. It has a carport, and we can use the ladder to climb up on it, then break into the attic.”
I had climbed on that carport when young, and remembered lectures from the adults upon finding me up there. “The roofs on carports are usually not strong.”
“Listen, we will be safe.”
“What about Elizabeth?”
“We will check with her.”
I heard yelling, so moved to the window of the bedroom where I had entered. I screamed to the lady above me. Not only did the loud voices transfer information, but they helped assure that less zombies would be in the direction that would be traveled next.
Elizabeth went to help the other ladies. There was no way she have joined me anyway. Looking out the broken window I could see a mass of zombies. I really felt a desire to get back to work smashing skulls, but I was too tired. I wished Elizabeth luck, then told her that I was going to fix myself something to eat.
The house was a mess. I figured that I would spend time cleaning up, although I was tired and hungry. I found a can of soup, then found a pot. I stepped about the messy house looking for something to drink, but not wanting to drink another beer I eventually settled for water.
Zombies were wrapped in sheets or blankets, then sent out the open window. I could not lift the adult male bodies, but I did manage with the two females. It was strange, but the undead actually helped me. In their struggle to get at me, they clawed at the bodies coming out with their efforts helping to dump the carcasses in the yard. As I was wrapping another body, the phone rang.
Sandra asked, “Livonia, do you think that you could get the gun to us?”
I looked about, then said, “I could open a window and toss it in your direction.”
“That was what we were thinking too. Not the front of the house, but the back.”
I had to not only open a window in the master bedroom, but remove a screen. All the while I worried about the zombies noticing the action. I however managed to perform the operation, then fling the gun over the fence. Luckily, again the distance was not far, but my muscles also seemed to have been improved by my work-outs. Instead of falling short from being fatigued, I saw the gun soar into my mother’s back yard. I closed the window feeling that the other ladies now had every advantage that I had.
I went back and finished removing the zombies. I actually chanced opening the front door to dispose of the adult male bodies. The zombies had not congregated there, and by the time that they noticed me I had done what I needed to do. I believe that the screen door did bend in, but the front door was solid wood. I threw the locks feeling that I was presently safe from zombies.
Not only did I hear the gun, but the truck. I moved to the front room where I could safely look out the window without attracting the attention of the zombies. I heard them still at the door. While I trusted the thick slab of wood to hold, I had seen zombies crash in store windows. I thus did not want them to try and pummel the window of my present home. From a place back from the curtains where I peered through a break in the cloth, I watched what I could of what the other ladies were doing.
The noise of the powerful engine caught the interest of the zombies in front of my house. While only a hurricane fence divided this property from that of my mother’s, a full wooden barrier split the property line on the other side. I have to assume a number of zombies had come to the noise, but stopped at the barrier. The moving truck however caused a surge toward the road, and suddenly a number of zombies could be seen moving.
If Rita had simply gunned the truck back out the driveway, she could have easily made her maneuver. She however came out slowly, probably because Sandra, Annette, and Elizabeth were in the back with the ladder. While the other ladies screamed for her to hurry, she stopped to change gears. In that amount of time, the zombies reached the back of the truck.
The undead were not intelligent enough to climb into the bed of the truck. They however were stupid enough to simply keep moving even around a large vehicle. In attempting to reach for Annette, one zombie moved around to the side. When Rita finally applied the accelerator, the zombie had a foot around the tire. In running over the foot, the zombie fell in a manner that put its body in the wheel cage and stopped the tire from turning. If it had been a person, the driver might have been concerned and acted differently. Rita however gunned the truck, which had it spin causing it to face the mass of undead.
I thought of Al and me that day in front of the fabric store as we moved on top of vehicles to avoid the zombies while trying to kill them. The gun went off several times, but that just summoned more undead. I watched in horror while three ladies did what they could while yelling things to the one driving the truck.
Just as with Al and me, it was possible to gain a place near the center of the truck where the arms of the undead had trouble reaching. I was fighting with the man on unmoving vehicles however, while Rita was doing what she could to leave the threats that shook her riders possibly into danger. The fear of having to kill another person that I considered a friend scared me as I saw those in the truck many times come close to being seriously attacked by a zombie.
Rita suddenly floored it to move backwards, but the press of zombies presented a problem to the vehicle. The black lady however seemed to now have an understanding of the engine. She shifted gears, then the zombies in the back fell down or somehow gained a hold as the vehicle no longer cared about what was in its rear.
I lost sight of the truck as it moved into the Mitchell’s driveway. Not only did my mother’s house block the view, but the mass of zombies also prevented me from seeing over the distance. I wanted to watch however, as I suddenly became worried about Rita as well the others. While the white ladies would be moving into the other house, the black lady would be stuck in the cab surrounded by undead. No longer seeing her, I became concerned that I had seen her alive for the last time as the trucked moved to the house.
I wanted to call my mother, but she had a land-line whose wire had been broken at some point. Wanting to see what the other ladies were doing, I moved through the house checking the location of various windows. I quickly moved back to a central part of the house however upon hearing my phone ring.
“Livonia?” my mother asked.
“Yes, mother, it’s me.”
“I have Annette’s phone. She wanted me to stay in contact with them, but I am worried about you.”
I found that nice, but also surreal. My mother had a pleasant voice, as if there was no trouble at all. I anxiously spoke in return letting mother know that I was worried about the one whose phone she had.
“About me? Can you see the others?”
“Yes, they are now at the Mitchell’s car port. The ladder is in place and they are going on the roof.”
I wanted to scream at my mother for making such a basic reply when I could clearly see a crowd of undead moving to the Mitchell’s home. I thought about a number of questions to ask. Remembering that she told me the ladies were moving to the roof, I asked about the one that I felt could not be in that number.
“What about Rita?”
“She is climbing out the rear window.”
I was about make a reply when I clearly heard a strange noise that I knew did not sound right. I again moved near a window wishing that I could see. Hearing my mother only make a soft exclamation, I asked her what had happened.
“The carport collapsed.”
Fantasy puts more requirements on the writer than any other fiction, because the world must be made as real before anything else can be real.
Adult Christian fiction quite different than all the usual lame stuff in that market. "Dilemma of Dreams" now in hard back.