“Aren’t you worried at all?”
Taylor stared at him, his eyes narrowing the slightest bit. “What kind of a question is that, little brother? I’m as scared shitless as you, but we didn’t come all this way to chicken out. Now put this piece of junk in drive and let’s face whatever reality there is to face.”
Carl shifted into drive. The engine sputtered as though responding to an insult. “Maybe you should say a little prayer that we make it into town.”
“No good worrying about it now.”
Traveling north of the highway, it was three miles into Coldwater. Carl pointed, whistling through his teeth. “Would you look at that.”
There were two gas stations in town. One could hardly be classified as a gas station. It was an auto body shop that happened to have two gas pumps sitting outside, about fifteen feet from the entrance. Carl had pointed to the only Honest-to-God gas station in town. What was left of it anyway. It was a charred ruin. Four of the pumps lay on their sides, the metal contorted into strange pieces of alien art. Thousands of pieces of glass littered the cracked cement, twinkling like tiny stars in the car’s headlights.
“Jesus,” Carl said.
Taylor patted Carl’s shoulder. “Let’s hope the other one is in better shape. Keep going.”
It was the longest drive of his life. Carl wouldn’t let the speedometer’s needle creep above twenty miles per hour. You’re only delaying the inevitable. That’s what Taylor would say. He won’t let you get away with this pussy shit for much longer.
Tina stirred in the back seat. Carl watched her in the rearview mirror. “Wakey-wakey,” he said. “Welcome to the other speck of fly shit gracing the Rand McNally Road Atlas.”
She sat up and rubbed her eyes; the gesture making her seem more childlike somehow.
Carl pulled up in front of the house he shared with Angie. It was painted a light green, like sunwashed limes. He put the car into park and killed the lights.
“Her car isn’t in the driveway,” Carl said.
Taylor knew when his brother was trying to act tough. He was acting tough now, trying to pretend he wasn’t about to panic. Taylor didn’t call him on it. They had a mutual need to be strong, feigned or otherwise. He opened the door and stepped out, stretching his legs. His head swam momentarily, big black butterflies crowding his vision. He closed his eyes and waited for it to pass.
Tina trailed behind them as they walked toward the house. Taylor had the machete in his hand.
Carl hesitated at the front door.
“You want me to go in first?” Taylor asked.
“No. I’m a big boy.” He took a deep gulp of air and opened the door.
The beams of their flashlights cut through the darkness. Carl flipped the light switch next to the door and nothing happened.
“Angie? Hey, Angie, it’s me. You home?” He repeated her name several more times. They searched all the rooms in the house. When they had finished, he felt compelled to state the obvious. “She’s not here.”
Tina said, “I found something.”
Carl rushed over to her. She was holding a piece of paper that had been laying on the coffee table in the living room. She handed it over to him. “It’s a letter.”
“What’s it say?”
“Give me a minute.” His eyes darted over the letter. He read it again, this time more slowly, before saying anything. “Says she’s going over to Mom and Dad’s.”
“So let’s get going over there,” Taylor said. “You need to grab anything before we go?”
Carl disappeared and then reappeared a minute later carrying his hunting rifle. “It’s a two-seventy. Packs enough of a punch.” He held a box of ammunition in his other hand. “I’m ready.”
Taylor stared at the couch. It looked like one of the most inviting pieces of furniture he had ever laid eyes on. If not for a small surge of adrenaline, he might had plopped down on it, sunk deep into the soft cushions, and drowned himself in sleep.
Taylor opened the door and immediately cursed himself for not being more cautious. A group of the rabid things had gathered around the car.
The engine’s still warm I bet, he thought. Can they sense that?
Seven or eight of them stood huddled closely together. He squinted into the semi-darkness. It’s entirely different when they could be people you know. One of them was Jeff Cairns, proprietor of the local grocery store. He recognized another as one of the mechanics who worked for Mike Earnest, owner of Earnest Motors a few blocks east of Main Street. Taylor couldn’t recall the mechanic’s name.
Carl raised the rifle.
Tina said, “What are you doing?”
Carl hesitated for moment and then squeezed the trigger. Taylor thought the sound of the shot was perhaps the loudest thing he had ever heard. It cracked like a whip; a brief thunderclap of authoritative noise. Tina gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. Taylor had to suppress the sudden urge to laugh out loud. Maybe I’m going a little crazy if I can think about laughing at a time like this, he thought.
The right side of the rabid thing’s face disintegrated a moment before it sank to the ground.
“Gotcha!”
Carl chambered another round.
“They’re coming,” Tina said.
“Get in the house!” Taylor said.
Tina reached the door first, holding it open for Taylor and Carl. Carl walked backwards slowly, taking aim with the rifle again. He squeezed the trigger, catching the mechanic high on the shoulder, and sent him spiraling around to bounce off the side of the Escort.
Taylor enjoyed a certain amount of satisfaction watching Carl take the rabid things down, but as he scanned the empty streets, he knew it was one of the dumbest things they could have done. The roar of gunfire was loud enough to wake the dead – no pun intended, Taylor thought – and it would only draw attention to their location.
Carl said, “One more,” as he ejected an empty round.
Taylor batted the rifle down. “Get in the house.” He had meant to yell, but instead the words tumbled from his mouth in a calm and detached manner, as if he was reacting to something far away.
By the time all three of them were in, the first of the rabid things had reached the porch and was at the door before Taylor could get it all the way closed. He put his back to the door, squatted, and used his feet to push off the floor. It worked. He heard the latch click and he locked it quickly.
“That won’t hold them off for long. Help me find something to block it closed with.”
Carl pointed to the couch. The two of them, both on one end, shoved the couch so that it was positioned up against the door.
Carl went to the window nearest the door, parted the curtains ever so slightly, and looked out. He could see them gathered on the porch steps. He counted five of them.
“I count five,” he said. “One of them is Carrie Martinez. She owns that store over on Birch. Stitch With It or whatever it’s called.”
“Is there a back door or something?” Tina asked.
“Yeah, but it’s two miles to our parent’s house. I wouldn’t feel safe going a block by foot with things like that waiting around out there.”
Carl turned his head to look at Tina. “He’s right. It was a good idea, but for once in his life my brother’s right.” A hand slammed against the window, a thin pane of glass the only thing preventing it from grabbing his face. He jerked back. “Jesus. Stupid but dangerous. What do you think makes them so dumb? None of them were exactly rocket scientists before, but damn. All they seem to know how to do is chase after normal people.”