I raced over and took out Mr. Nubs before he was able to sit up. At the same time, Kyle slowly walked over to the woman, watching as she slipped away. I looked at Kyle’s expression. It was clear that he was hoping she wouldn’t come back.
Even in such dire life and death situations, there is a point in time where one hopes that what is happening will just stop, before another killing occurs.
Just as she gurgled and moved an arm, he brought his weapon down across her face.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
Chapter 15
One of the many games we played was aptly titled, “Midnight.”
We sat in silence for several minutes, catching our breath, trying to take in what all had happened. Beyond the walls of the house, we could hear gunshots followed by screams of pain, then silence again.
Kyle went to the front door to watch the street as I walked unsteadily to the phone. Even through the darkness, I could see him grimace as he looked out.
I studied the caller ID, before pushing the down arrow, hoping it was the last number to call the house. After hitting the dial button, I pulled the receiver up to the side of my head. It took a moment, but the phone began to ring.
Kyle swiftly crouched down below the window, catching my attention. I could see a silhouette from outside pass through the glare of a street lamp.
I felt the phone receiver trembling against my ear.
Five rings, six rings, seven… No voice mail, nobody answered.
With the precision of a surgeon, I quietly hung up the phone on the eleventh ring, the fist-sized lump in my throat nearly strangling me. Gripping the base of my hammer, a surge of frustration swallowed my fear. An impulse to slam the metal head against the wall with everything I had left kicked in, but my instincts kept me from making too much noise.
I felt my anger slip away as I continued to squeeze the hammers base. I kept telling myself that I had to keep going. I had to reach my Jenn. I needed to hold her in my arms once again.
After taking several moments to collect myself, I made a mental note of the number on the caller ID. Then, surveying the room, I moved past Michael, who was holding his stomach with his good hand, and joined Kyle by the door.
Peering out the window, I could see the diseased undead spreading out like a filthy piss puddle in the street. They were slowly hunting around, searching for their prey. The gunshots had stopped now. The screams were replaced by dull moans.
I realized that this was the closest we had been to these things without them attacking, since watching them from the office building back in New York.
With the missed call from Jenn still in the back of my mind, I was drawn to the movements of the creatures. They had what I can only describe as an erratic organization to hunt. They were spreading out, canvassing the area.
Every one of them would walk to a bush or a tree, stop to listen, and then move on.
When I was a child, the kids in my neighborhood would get together at night. One of the many games we played was aptly titled, “Midnight.” One kid would stand by a tall lamppost in the middle of the neighborhood, while the rest of us would go hide. The kid in the light would count.
One o’clock, two o’clock, three o’clock, and so on all the way to eleven o’clock, then scream out, “Midnight!”
He would then run off to find the kids that were hiding. As he found them, they, in turn, would be recruited to run off and find the rest of the kids. Before long, there would be a whole bunch of kids running around the neighborhood, canvassing the area, looking in every bush and behind every tree. Looking for that final, remaining kid who had the best hiding spot. The game was over when they found him.
I sat there in that eerie house, suddenly reminded of that same feeling of being the last kid hiding, and hoping that they would never find my hiding spot.
The problem was that the game always came to an end. Always.
I looked at Kyle just after a zombie passed by the front of the house.
“I don’t think it’s gonna be long before they discover us in here,” I whispered.
“I’ve been thinking about that. I think we need a distraction of sorts. Those things love noise, and we have that chainsaw in the back of the house.”
“That thing is pretty loud. We could hear it all the way from the siren,” I agreed.
“The only thing is, those two ass fucking cops are still chained up out back, and I’m sure they have been turned by now.” He motioned toward the back door with his head.
He was right; it was too risky. They would certainly alert the rest of the horde to our presence. The only way out was through the front.
Michael crept up behind us, holding his wounded hand to his shoulder, his good hand protecting his gut.
“I saw a key hook by the garage,” he said in a small voice.
“So?” Kyle scowled, his mind already working on possibilities.
“Well, if there is a spare set of keys for that Porsche out there, maybe we can set off the car alarm again, giving us enough time to make it to the Hummer.”
We didn’t have a chance to reply; a gunshot from across the street grabbed our attention. A man with blue jeans and a trench coat had climbed up into an oak tree. He was hanging over a branch. The gunshot attracted six or seven of the creatures, who were all climbing on top of each other trying to get to their quarry.
The guy had the right idea and was just out of arms reach, except for his coat which hung just a few feet lower than the branch. A zombie that looked like she was dressed in a black and white nun outfit caught hold of the jacket, and pulled him backward. He was able to squeeze off two more rounds before hitting the ground, the vile undead instantly tearing into his flesh.
We all stopped for a moment, exchanging glances.
“So… I think that key idea is worth a look,” Kyle finally said.
Nodding in agreement, the three of us, still crouching, moved quickly through the kitchen, and down the hall to the garage. The hook held three sets of keys.
Kyle cautiously opened the garage door. There were two other vehicles in the three-car garage. Both of them were smaller cars, with what looked like extension cords attached to nearby electrical outlets.
“Fucking hippies,” Kyle spat.
“Yeah, a lot of good an electric car will do us in a world without electricity,” Michael shrugged. Of the three sets, I took the one that had the familiar Porsche emblem on it. When we got back to the front door, we all looked outside, weighing our options. The zombies were still out there, meticulously searching.
“You ready for this?” I whispered, lifting the keychain up so we could all see it. I noticed my hands were sweaty, but took in a deep, steadying breath. Kyle opened his mouth to answer when, in that instant, just before I could push the keychain’s button, the grandfather clock chimed on the hour.
DONG! DONG! The noise was ungodly loud in the silence.
DONG! DONG! DONG!
Michael jerked violently as if shot. I could hardly blame him, nearly having shit my pants as well.
“Are you kidding me?” Kyle screamed over the noise.
Looking outside, it was clear that the zombies could hear it, too. They were all convening on the front porch.
“Hit it!” Michael screamed suddenly.
DONG! DONG! DONG!
I fumbled with it for a second, and then pushed the button to the alarm on the Porsche. Nothing. I smashed it down again. Still nothing.
“We’re not close enough!” I yelled.
Kyle kicked open the front door, and drove his metal weapon down across the closest zombie’s head.
“Come on!” he commanded channeling his inner drill sergeant.