Respect the Dead. Shawn McLain
button. He pressed it without thinking about it. He hadn’t been able to reach her the last two dozen times why should this be different?
His attention was drawn back to the traffic cameras. The crowd in central park had grown over the last few minutes. Cars were speeding down the road. The drivers were erratic driving wild with no regard for the pedestrians. There had been several near misses already along with several not misses. Those who got either hit skidding along the pavement or went flailing through the air. The result of each incident was the same. The person would lie motionless for a moment, then get up, or crawl or stumble. Limbs would be at weird angles, legs and arms not working or completely missing. This is what caught Devin’s attention. A car had just flown through the intersection throwing a small person cart wheeling over it.
“Hello? Devin?” He jumped at the sound quickly putting the phone to his ear.
“Cheryl?” Relief flooded over him.
“Devin what is going on?” Her voice was strained holding more than a hint of panic.
He pulled the phone from his ear closing his eyes. His heart ached. Biting his lip he returned the phone to his ear. Fear threatened to overtake him. “Honey listen, and don’t ask questions just do what I say please! Get the girls and get out of town. Go to your mother’s in Altoona.”
“Why what is going on?” She frantically asked.
“Please, just go. Things are going crazy. I want you and the girls out of…” Devin’s attention was drawn back to the central park camera. The phone slowly dropped from his ear. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A car careened around a corner straight into the crowd.
Several people were thrown through the air. Several others in the park fell like dominoes, others sliding across the grass. Just as before they all just got back up like nothing had happened. Except this time they all began to converge on the car. Devin watched as the crowd began attacking the vehicle.
The driver was trying to back up but he didn’t seem to be gaining any traction. Then the wheels found traction. The driver gave it too much gas. The car swerved smashing into a tree. He tried to drive his smoking car through the crowd.
He was driving into a wall of people. They barely moved piling up on the hood or falling under the wheels. Devin half rose from his chair. The phone forgotten in his hand. He cried out when the driver’s window was smashed. There was nothing he could do but watch as the driver was ripped from the car. The passenger door was wrenched open. Someone was trying to run but they overwhelmed by the mass of people who instantly surrounded her.
“Devin! Devin what is going on?” Cheryl cried.
“Oh sweet Mother of Pearl!” Devin exclaimed as he watched the crowd rip the driver and passenger to pieces.
“Devin! What it is? What is going on? Devin answer me!” Cheryl was truly in a state of panic now.
Returning the phone to his ear, “get the girls and get out of town NOW!” Devin yelled as he watched the parts of the passenger being dragged in different directions from the car. Sinking back into a chair he thanked god there was no sound with the picture. Putting his hand to his face he felt drained and defeated.
“Cheryl, I love you. Tell the girls I love them and I’ll see them at grandmas.” Devin muttered into the phone.
“Devin, what is going on? Come home we’ll leave together.” His wife half wept.
“Please honey. Go now, while you still can. I love you.” Devin spoke into the phone his heart breaking as he did. He knew he couldn’t make it home. All his routes were blocked; everywhere he looked there were people in the streets running.
“I will see you at your mother’s, I promise.” He lied.
“I love you.” His wife’s voice hitched as she called for the girls.
He heard his youngest, “Mommy there is a man at the door, he looks hurt.” Like ice water pouring down his spine Devin pictured a bloody man at the screen door. He heard his daughter’s scream and the phone clattered to the floor.
“Cheryl! Cheryl!” Devin screamed into the phone jumping to his feet. “CHERYL!” There was no one on the other end. All he could hear was banging shouting and the the diminishing sound of someone running away.
“Cheryl…” He moaned into the phone. Hanging up quickly he tried to call his house again. All he heard was a recorded voice telling him all circuits were busy. He tried his wife’s phone, nothing. He tried his oldest daughter’s phone hearing only the same recorded voice telling him all circuits were busy.
Sinking back into the chair all he could do was pray his family made it out of the house and was alright. A feeling of helplessness overwhelmed him as he looked from the useless phone to the monitors. The bridge out of town to the highway was clogged with cars, none of them seemed to be moving. Devin did something he hadn’t done since the birth of his first child.
“Damn it!” he screams as his phone flew across the room, smashing against the cinder block wall.
Not the Best Idea
The garage door rose too slowly. Gerry revved the bike’s engine impatiently. Rolling his shoulders and neck he readied himself. The hastily attached tree trimmer shook across the handlebars, the twine, taught and straining. Slapping down the visor he checked the machete duck taped to his arm extending past his hand. Heavy kitchen knives were strapped to his knees and boots.
The door was halfway up now. He could see several pairs of legs approaching, drawn by the sound of the opening portal.
“Vreee Vreee, pllt plllt plltt.” The bike purred. Zipping up the camouflage jacket a smile broke across his face. Finally! Finally after years of playing the games, after years of being told he was wasting his time he was going to prove them wrong. He would survive, and why? Because he had been playing the games, training for just this day.
The door was all the way up. He grinned as he watched them were moving toward him. Graying skin stretched over tight muscles, teeth bared. His smile grew bigger, “just like in the games.” With the open door came a cool fall breeze. Unlike the games came the stench. His eyes began to water behind the visor and his lunch jumped into his throat. The putrid stink of excrement and rot threatened to overpower him. "God," He gasped, "How did you get so smelly so fast?" Fighting through the urge to vomit he slipped the bike into gear. The engine whined and rear tire squealed. Gerry kicked out at the undead as he passed.
The air in the helmet cleared. The stink was still there but in the open he could at least breathe. Blinking away the tears he regained control of his stomach. Not being overwhelmed with the urge to hurl his euphoria returned. Seeing another undead ahead he leaned toward it. Making contact with its right leg the serrated bread knife ripped free of his shoe. It stuck into the thigh of the zombie he passed. It took no notice as it tried to follow him. He turned the throttle leaving the ghoul with only the knife and his laughter.
He sped down the road. “Ten points! Ah we can do better…” He searched the street for another target. “Oh yeah, gonna be a head shot!” he cried pumping his fist in the air. Gerry smiled up at the blade of the machete strapped to his arm. Twisting the throttle he leveled the blade. Eyeing the female coming across the grass ahead, he adjusted the height. “This is gonna take your head clean off.” He grinned.
Pain like he had never known shot through his arm and shoulder as his fist snapped back hitting him in the kidney. Stars exploded before his vision and his lunch returned to his throat again. Wobbling dangerously he fought to control the bike. Pulling his arm forward he tried to put it on the handle bars. Fire shot through his forearm and fingers.
Eyes streaming, he only caught a glimpse of the limping man before the tree trimmer hit him in the midsection. The trimmer ripped free of the handle bars hitting the kill switch as it dislodged. The rear tire seized into a skid. Panicked he flipped the switch back to run. He flailed his broken arm attempting to to pull in the clutch. Bike and man crashed to the ground.