"Just a dream ... Just a dream ..."
The feasting grew louder, and her baby began to speak in a language Frankie had never heard before.
"Enga keeriost mathos du abapan rentare ..."
"Somebody wake me up. Wake me up!"
The baby clambered out of the bassinette and crawled toward the window.
It began to chant. "Ob ... Ob ... Ob ..."
"Martin?" Frankie backed away from the glass. "Jim? Somebody help me!"
The baby drew nearer. Frankie shut her eyes. Her baby's voice changed again. "Mommy?" It sounded like Danny. From behind her, Martin said,
"Frankie, wake up."
Pain. Then-darkness and more pain.
"Daddy?"
A voice. Small and afraid. Disembodied.
"D-Daddy? Dad?"
Urgent. Louder.
"Dad. The monster people are coming! Get up!"
Panic. The voice was Danny's.
"Daddy! Please, Daddy, you've got to wake up. Please?"
It all came rushing back to him-the rescue, the pursuit, the motorcycle crashing in front of them on purpose, and then-nothing.
Jim opened his eyes and saw red. There was no sign of Danny, or any of their companions. In fact, there was no sign of anything. He couldn't see. It was as if a scarlet curtain had been drawn over the world.
"Daddy, what's wrong?"
"I-I'm blind ..."
A guard shack-the kind used at parking garages. He remembered that.
"They're here. Come on!"
He felt Danny tugging at his arm, heard the trembling in his voice. From somewhere to his left came a groan. Martin? De Santos? Frankie?
He smelled gas.
Then he smelled them.
Zombies.
"Danny? It's okay. I'm awake. I just can't see."
"You're hurt, Daddy. You've got blood in your eyes."
The pain stabbed again. Red. The world was red. Hesitantly, Jim touched his face and forehead. They were sticky. He probed at his scalp and winced at the sudden flash of agony.
"Danny, where are the others?"
There was no response.
"Danny?"
Jim heard harsh, ragged breathing and realized that it was coming from his son. Danny's voice was barely a whisper.
"Daddy, they're here ..."
"Hey kid, want a nice piece of candy?" a zombie growled.
Jim heard the door wrenched open and then Danny shrieked.
"DADDY!"
"Come here, you little fuck!"
Jim's paralysis snapped. He wiped the blood from his eyes-seeing again-and screamed with rage as a pair of mottled arms dragged Danny from the backseat. His son struggled, kicking his legs and beating at the zombie with his fists. Another pair of leathery hands grappled with Danny's seatbelt release.
Jim grabbed the cold hand clutching his son's arm. The zombie's grip was like a vice. Jim pried at the fingers, tugging hard as adrenalin coursed through his veins. The finger tore loose and the creature laughed. Jim tossed the severed digit aside.
Desperate, he looked for the hatchet. The SUV's interior was a mess.
Maps and soda cans, Styrofoam coffee cups and empty bullet casings, cigarette butts and shattered glass-all of it knocked loose and scattered on impact. Behind him, Frankie lay unmoving, buried beneath a pile of blankets, tennis rackets, and a cooler. In the front seat, Don sat slumped over the wheel, a white airbag enveloping him. A thin trickle of blood leaked from his gaping mouth. His eyes were shut. And Martin-
Martin was gone. The airbag had deployed, but there was no sign of the old man. Instead, there was a hole in the windshield; the edges matted with blood, hair, and pieces of pink, glistening flesh.
"Daddy, help me!"
Jim punched uselessly at the creature's face.
"Get off him! Get your god-damned hands off my son!"
He beat at the zombies, but could gain no leverage in the cramped backseat. His pulse throbbed as Danny's seatbelt came undone. The zombies dragged Danny out.
"No!"
"Yes!"
They jerked Danny into the darkness. The little boy's screams became one long, drawn out wail as the larger zombie's rotten mouth descended upon him. Frantically, Jim grabbed Danny's legs and pulled him backward. The zombies tugged harder.
"What's your fucking problem, pal? Let the kid go. He's just an appetizer. You can be the main course."
Jim was beyond words, beyond thought. The pain in his head and shoulder were forgotten. Martin was forgotten. Frankie and De Santos were forgotten. His entire world consisted of his son and the two undead attackers. Growling, he braced his feet against the console and pulled harder. The smaller zombie, the one who had undone the seatbelt, lost its grip, and Danny slid another inch toward Jim.
"Fuck this," it grunted. "Just kill the little shit so we can get to the adult. More meat on him anyway."
Nodding in agreement, the other creature's mouth fell upon Danny again.
"DAAAAAAAAADDDDDDDDYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"
"Leave him alone, you son of a bitch!"
The zombie's teeth ripped through Danny's shirt, right between his neck and shoulder. The powerful jaws clenched, preparing to bite through the skin, and then-
-Frankie sat up and buried the hatchet in its head, cleaving the skull in two. Gore splashed Danny and Jim.
"Eat that, motherfuckers," Frankie growled.
The decaying hands fell away as the zombie toppled backward. Jim pulled the hysterical boy back inside.
"You're okay, Danny," Jim reassured him. "You're okay now. They're not gonna get you."
"Cheer up, kiddo," Frankie said, "you're rescued."
She sank back down, her eyes fluttering closed. She did not move again.
"Shit. Frankie, wake up." Jim shook her gently, afraid of hurting the unconscious woman any worse than she already was.
"Is she dead, Daddy?"
"I don't think so, squirt. Are you okay?"
Danny nodded.
"Frankie?" Jim tried again. When she didn't respond, he shook De Santos.
"Don. Don, get up!"
"Huzzat..."
"Come on. God damn it, De Santos, wake up now!"
"Five more minutes, Myrna ..."
The second zombie stepped forward and yanked the bloody hatchet from its fallen comrade's head. It was dressed in the tattered remains of a Bob Marley shirt. One ear and half its cheek had been torn away, and dreadlocks hung from its skull in filthy, matted ropes.
"Look what you did to my brother! That wasn't very nice. That wasn't nice at all."
Don stirred.
"Jim?"
"Wake up, Don. We've gotta go!"
Jim opened the door.
"Where do you think you're going?" the zombie snarled.
Clutching his son, Jim opened the door on the side away from the zombie, and tumbled out of the Explorer onto the cold pavement. He let go of Danny, sprang to his feet, and yanked Don's door open. Don stumbled out of the vehicle.