Dying Shortly Page 2

  "Nothing but the ghosts," she whispered. "And my nerves." Darlene made sure the gate clicked back in place.

  The back patio was strewn with leaves but otherwise untouched, the table and chairs waiting for the nearby grill to get started so the family could eat. The sliding glass doors were locked, the shades inside drawn.

  Darlene was standing there, gun in hand, nothing on, trying to come up with a game plan but her mind was blank. She didn't think she could stay in the yard all night like this. It wasn't freezing out but it was getting colder the later it got.

  The low growl near her ankles scared her so much that she slipped on the patio and fell to the ground, her weapon hitting the grass.

  When the large dog stood over her she thought she would either be bitten or it would bark and she'd be attacked by a horde of zombies. Instead, it sniffed quietly at her hand. She let the dog smell her and was relieved when its tail began to wag.

  "Where'd you come from, boy?" she asked, petting the German Shepard. The yard was completely fenced in. Darlene went back to the sliding doors and looked around for a pet door or something she'd missed. Nothing, but it was so dark.

  "Throw me a bone, boy," Darlene said and then giggled at her stupid pun. The dog sat on its hind legs and stared at her, tail going a mile a minute.

  She felt around and found an opening to the far left of the door, next to the start of the bushes. It was larger than a normal doggy door but she didn't think she'd be able to squeeze through. "Not with these hips," she whispered.

  "Go inside, by, and unlock the door for mommy," she whispered at her new friend, but he only licked her hand. "Didn't think so."

  Darlene didn't hear any noise from over the fence, only the sound of the dog breathing. It sat down on its hind legs and stared at Darlene, tongue wagging.

  "After you?" Darlene said to the dog and pointed at the small opening. When he didn't jump in front of her -typical male, she thought - she got down on her hands and knees.

  "Let's get this big ass through the tiny hole," she whispered. "That's all I'm asking."

  She wished again she had a flashlight, because when she pulled the flap open and squeezed her head in it was pitch black. Her shoulders squeezed in and she managed to get her chest through with difficulty, but once she got to her hips - damn Bobich Family curse! - she was screwed.

  Of course, that was the moment the dog began to growl, low and mean.

  Darlene, panicking, tried to push herself back out but she was firmly stuck. I'm going to die, trapped in a doggy door, all alone, she thought. Of all the shitty ways to die.

  Something brushed against her leg and she stiffened. She hoped it was only the dog. A strange, calming thought came to her just then: she wondered what the dog's name was. Maybe he had a tag on his collar.

  Darlene closed her eyes, since she couldn't see anyway. Very slowly she started to rock her hips, her hands pushing against the sides of the wall as she did.

  "Please don't bark," she whispered when she heard him growl again, right behind her on the steps. There was another noise, but it was so muffled and she was inside the house that she wasn't sure she'd actually heard it or not.

  She tried turning her hips on an angle and pushing her way in. She was sweating. Look on the bright side: at least I don't have clothes on to hinder me more. She wiped her thick mop of soaking hair with her hand and went to touch the floor when she stopped.

  It was quite humid in the house. There was no telling how long the power had been out and the family closed up the house. It was hot. Darlene started wiping her face, neck and hair and rubbing whatever parts of her hips she could touch.

  She rocked back and forth again, and after what felt like six hours but was likely six minutes she was free. Pulling her legs in, she turned and held the door open.

  The German Shepard was growling at something she couldn't see, stepping forward with head raised and teeth bared.

  "Come on, boy, come inside," she whispered. "Come to me."

  The dog barked, once, loudly.

  "Shit." She knew she'd be pushing it if she tried to get back outside to grab the dog. She put her head back out and looked around, but she didn't see anything or anyone. Of course it was still so dark outside that she couldn't see past the back patio.

  "Please, please, please, come here," she whispered.

  The German Shepard stopped and looked at her. She smiled and waved her hand at him.

  She heard the gate being pushed slowly open.

  The dog started barking and moved out of her sight.

  Darlene came fully inside the house and stood, holding onto the Desert Eagle. She looked at the sliding glass back door, currently covered in shades, and nearly punched herself in the head. "Stupid bitch," she whispered. The fucking door is right here. I'm still crawling on my hands and knees from inside the fucking house.

  She clicked the lock to the door at the same time she moved the shades using the Desert Eagle. The dog was lost in shadows but she could hear him growling and barking.

  The door slid on its hinges with a slight squeak. She froze, the door only half a foot wide. Cool air entered the house and brushed against her naked body, cooling her off. The sweat still on her hips and sides gave her goose bumps when mixed with the night air.

  Darlene could clearly hear footsteps now on the lawn, moving toward the patio. She moved back into the house, angling so she could still see out the crack in the door and fire if need be.

  "Calm down, little doggie," she heard a gruff male voice say. "You'll alert the damn neighborhood."

  "Just shoot the damn thing," a whispering female voice said with disdain.

  Is that Barbara and Doug? She started to sweat.

  She watched the figure kneel and pet the dog, who stopped growling and barking. "Traitor," she whispered but knew the dog was starved for attention. Another figure, obviously the woman, was suddenly next to him.

  "Let's try the house," she said. "I don't like it here."

  Darlene took several steps back before turning. Her eyes had gotten adjusted to the gloom and she could just make out darker objects - the living room couch, the entertainment center, and the coffee table - and avoided them as she scampered down a hallway and looked for a place to hide.

  She heard the sliding door opening as she entered the bathroom, closing the door behind her as quietly as she could. Stupid move, she thought. Trapped myself in the bathroom. Naked.

  Darlene climbed into the bathtub and pulled the shower curtain closed, pointing the gun in front of her. Hands shaking and trying not to cry, she slid down into the cold tub and waited.

  The couple - she was sure it wasn't Barbara and Doug - began moving about the house but so far neither had bothered entering the bathroom. If they did she would simply shoot them.

  There were no windows in the room and the darkness enveloped her. As a little girl she'd never been really scared of the dark, only when it suited her needs and she wanted to get closer to her daddy. They'd vacationed in Vermont a few weeks after her mom had died, daddy so quiet and sad. They spent a week in the woods, in a small camper, getting back to nature. Fishing and canoeing. Daddy had cried softly that first night, wrapped in his sleeping bag with the camper top open to the stars. Darlene had feigned being scared of bears and climbed in next to him. He stroked her hair and sobbed quietly until she was fast asleep.

  * * * * *

  Darlene woke with a stiff neck. She had to pee and laughed at the stupidity of that. I'm in a fucking bathroom. She stretched, rubbing her muscles. Her legs and arms were needles and pins. There was no way to tell what time it was, but from the way her body felt she'd slept for a few hours at least.

  Not that it helped. She felt more exhausted than when she'd broken into the house. Crawled into the house.

  After taking care of personal business (and enjoying the comfort of an actual toilet and toilet paper) Darlene crept to the door and put her ear to it. She didn't hear anything, idly wondering if doing this actually w
orked outside of movies.

  At this point, lured into a false sense of security, our heroine opens the door and the chainsaw-wielding maniac in the dead skin mask attacks, she thought. "Better than crouching naked in a bathroom until you starved to death," she whispered and opened the door a crack.

  The hallway, of course, was dark, but there was a faint natural light tint to everything. She guessed the sun was up. She opened the door and stepped out into the hall but she wasn't attacked and she didn't hear a sound.

  Back into the living room she wasn't surprised to see the sliding glass doors closed and locked. The couple was still in the house.

  Her initial urge was to simply leave and find another house to search, but she needed clothes now. She knew it was stupid and made no real sense, but she walked back down the hall and opened a door at the end of the hall.

  The couple was there, completely naked, lying on top of the bed covers. They were both filthy, with small cuts and bruises covering their arms, face and legs.

  Darlene, holding the Desert Eagle, went to the closet, which was slightly ajar. She fingered through the hanging clothes, finally settling on a green blouse, at least two sizes too big. Great, I find the house that the Chubby Family lived in. None of the clothes would fit her comfortably, and the pants were way too big, even if she had a belt on.

  She turned when she heard one of them moving on the bed and was not surprised to see the man, .357 in hand, sitting up.

  They stared at one another but when his eyes lingered to her naked body she turned and gave him a full view and smiled. "I just wanted clothes," she whispered.

  "This is our house," he said loudly. The woman stirred and woke, frowning when she saw Darlene.

  "It's not your house. I got here about ten minutes before you did last night."

  "Bullshit. We been here for hours," the woman said. "Put some damn clothes on before you give my husband a heart attack."

  Darlene didn’t point out the obvious: that the woman was also naked. Instead, she stared at the man. "I'm not here for trouble; I just wanted to find clothes."

  "Yeah, well, fat people live here… lived here. We're just passing through as well." He smiled at her. "I'm Ron."

  "Don't tell her your name," his wife squealed.

  Ron laughed and stood, still staring. Darlene saw with horror that he was getting hard. She didn't like the way he was looking her over.

  Darlene raised the Desert Eagle and pointed it at his dick. "I'll be leaving now."

  He was still holding the .357 loosely in his hand and in her general direction. "What if I asked you nicely to stay?"

  "Sorry, but I think it's time for me to leave." Darlene took a step toward the door.

  "You motherfucker, you think you're gonna put that dirty dick in this whore while I'm still alive?" the woman asked.

  Ron ignored her and smiled again at Darlene, now fully erect.

  Another step closer to the door and Darlene figured she was almost free of this nightmare scene. "I'm leaving," she said firmly.

  "Why don't you stay? Safety in numbers, you know." He took a step closer but held the gun to his side. "The three of us could band together."

  "I don't think so, Ronnie." The woman glanced at Darlene. "Not with her. No offense."

  Darlene wanted to laugh. "None taken." She took another step sideways to the door. "Good luck to both of you."

  Ron dropped the smile as he stared at Darlene's crotch. "You're not going anywhere."

  "Ronnie, so help me God -"

  The woman never finished her sentence before he turned on her and shot her in the chest.

  Darlene reacted and pulled the trigger, the bullet slicing through his neck. She didn't wait to see who lived and died because she ran down the hallway, crashing into the wall and knocking family collages off as she went.

  The back door was locked, she realized too late as she went crashing into it, but it didn't shatter. She heard one of them moaning from the bedroom. She turned, ready to shoot, but no one appeared. Reaching back blindly, she unlocked the door and stepped backwards into the cool morning.

  She broke and ran for the side gate, which was open. Darlene started to run, getting six houses away before she stopped to catch her breath and push the fear down. The street was empty.

  "What happened to the dog?" she whispered.

  With no one in pursuit and no zombies in the immediate area she began a methodical search of the houses. She needed to find some clothing, food and more bullets.

  Dying Days

  One

  Lazy Eye held the pistol to Darlene’s head and licked his lips. “I said to take your fucking clothes off.”

  Darlene held her hands up and away from her body. “Is that a two-twenty six?”

  Lazy Eye looked confused. He shook the pistol and motioned at her with his free hand. “I won’t ask again.”

  “I think you’re right about that.” Darlene slipped her head down and to the left, bringing her extended fingers up and into his throat. Before he’d even stumbled she had gripped his arm, dislodged the pistol and heard his shoulder pop out of its socket.

  Lazy Eye went to scream but she covered his mouth, drove her knee into his stomach, and picked up the pistol in seconds.

  “Shut the fuck up or I will shoot you, motherfucker.” She had no intention of actually shooting him, since they were surrounded by undead. None of them were close enough to be an immediate threat, but they were there. The gunshot would get them moving toward her for miles out here.

  Under her the man struggled vainly. Darlene pointed the pistol at his head and he finally took the hint and stopped struggling. “This is a Sig Sauer 226 model, and a nice one at that. You don’t strike me as being a Navy SEAL or a Texas Ranger, so I’m guessing you found it. Too bad. It’s an excellent piece. Mind if I keep it?”

  Lazy Eye didn’t say anything. His good eye focused on her face before looking down at her dangling boobs at eye level. He licked his lips again.

  “Idiot.” She sat up, pulled a hunting knife from her boot and shook her head. “Here you go; the last thing you’ll ever see.” With that she pulled her dirty T-shirt top up and revealed her tits to the man, who openly drooled on the ground.

  “Nice, I know.” Darlene leaned close to him and just as his fingertip brushed against her hard left nipple she plunged the blade into his stomach and twisted. He gurgled as she drove the blade deeper into him and Darlene closed her eyes and tried to think of happy thoughts. She couldn’t and began to cry softly. As much as a scumbag as this guy was, he was still living and didn’t deserve to die. “Better you than me,” she mumbled. She cursed herself for not hearing him sneak up on her to begin with. So busy scanning the distance for the dead she’d not heard the living until he was on her.

  At this point in the game the only people still living were usually those stealthy enough, fast enough or lucky enough to keep from being ripped apart. Lazy Eye had obviously been lucky until today.

  She cleaned the blade on his clothes and checked him for supplies, food, anything. He had nothing in his pockets. His boots were too big for him and he wore three pairs of socks despite being out in the Florida heat of summer. “Where did you come from?” she whispered to his lifeless body before doing the horrific task of sawing through his neck with her knife to keep him from reanimating and trying to rape her again.

  He looked decently well-fed and he’d bathed in the last few days. His underwear was clean and his shirt still had a slight laundry detergent smell to it, something Darlene hadn’t smelled in too long. He had a camp somewhere close, possibly a home where he had a makeshift washer.

  She was in the dunes near the beach, with several undead lurking on the road behind her. Any noise would alert them. Darlene scanned the beach itself and watched as two zombies shambled from the surf and moved in different directions. They were everywhere.

  Three days ago Darlene had cold-camped on a Georgia beach in a lifeguard chair. She’d woken to five zombies chasin
g after a child, no more than seven, down the sand. Before she could jump down and help three undead fell from the dunes behind her and gave chase as well. It was all she could do to sit in silence without making a sound as more and more came into view and went north in pursuit of fresh prey.

  Now, she decided to journey the way Lazy Eye had appeared and see if she could find his camp. The going was slow, especially since she was trying to be as quiet as possible. A dead man, clothes shredded and covering only his shoulders, stumbled a few feet to her left and she froze. His penis was engorged with blood, rivulets dripping from its bloated head. He was one of the dangerous ones: the undead that still had a functioning sexual organ and would love nothing more than to use it on her, stretch her and rip into her and kill her. She shuddered at the thought.

  Five tense minutes later he suddenly stopped and turned away from her and crashed through the sand toward the road. Darlene continued to move as the sun beat down upon her, sun-burnt and hurting. Six or seven months ago she was freezing, stuck in a blizzard during winter near Baltimore. She’d nearly died from sickness and watched as the living around her had succumbed to frostbite or the undead that hadn’t frozen. She imagined that by now they’d thawed out and were hunting for the living.

  A service road came into view, devoid of immediate danger. She joined the sandy strip up into the dunes. From this vantage point she could see for miles: A1A ran from north to south, riddled with moving bodies; a small town was to the west, smoldering and destroyed; and to the north over a collapsed bridge stood a gas station, which looked intact from this distance. She decided to make for it. Maybe there was some food left over, a stray can of soda. Crumbs would suffice at this point. Darlene hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning and that meal was a rotting orange and some rain water. For weeks she’d stayed away from mirrored surfaces when possible, knowing that her once full figure was now a mess. “Even at the end of the fucking world you’re still worried about how your ass looks in a tight pair of jeans,” she whispered and grinned.