Winter's Salvation Read online

  Rod let out a gasp and stepped backward. The child looked up from David’s midsection, grasping two handfuls of flesh, and a face covered in red blood. The boys blond hair was caked thick with blood and viscera, and his once large beautiful smile filled with white sparkling teeth, was now a gapping maw with pink teeth outlined in dark crimson red, dripping with guts. The front of the boy was completely different than the back. Rod could see a little boy when he looked down at it, with its long blond hair and light blue pajamas, but from the front the pajamas were a dark red that matched his crimson red face. It’s grey eyes beamed through his victims blood and as the kid sat up onto his knees and growled at him, he took on the appearance of a demon.

  It stood up, holding onto the intestines that were still attached to Dave, and let out another growl. It came out as a groan because it was muffled by the innards that hung from his jaws.

  Rod looked back down at Dave as he lay on his back, stomach ripped open, facing up to his friend with a large wound to his head. Time seemed to stand still while he looked into his friends eyes thinking of all the things he should do. I should get him out of here. I can’t leave him like this. We may be able to save him? Just then he felt two powerful hands push him forward.

  His foot got tripped up on the chain and he fell forward to his hands and knees. He continued to look at Dave, for what seemed like an eternity. He felt the fists of the undead child rub across his back as the ghoul refused to release his grip on David’s intestines. He knew the boy did not have hold of him, but he knew he was about to feel the demon’s bloody teeth sink into his flesh.

  The small zombie let go of the intestines that now clung to Rod’s back, and grabbed hold of his shirt. Rod snapped out of the trance Dave had on him and with a scared chill that ran through his body he stood up quickly. It refused to let go and lurched forward with its mouth open wider than any human mouth should open. Rodriquez was able to turn his body to face the creature and punched it in the face. The child’s face broke inward as it lost its grip with its right hand.

  The zombie swung wildly, but maintained its balance by hanging onto Rod’s shirt sleeve with its left hand. It came charging after him again with a new found vigor. He broke the child’s grip on his sleeve and punched him in the face a second time. This time the power of the punch sent it falling backward and falling over Dave.

  Rod turned toward the door and leapt toward it stepping over the chain. Kimberly swung wildly at him after witnessing him assault her son Jimmy. She connected with his face a few times and as he pushed her out of the way, she maintained her balance and instead of falling away from the door, she fell into it slamming it shut.

  He ran to her and tried to push her to his right and away from the door, but she continued to fight and grabbed hold of the soiled and stained bed frame that was just to the left of the door. Now he was not only fighting the woman, but had to move her and the bed. He grabbed hold of her waist and tried to pull her off the frame, but her hands were fixed to it and now she was sprawled out in front of the exit. Rod grabbed hold of Kimberly’s reddish blond hair and pulled her head up from the frame and put his right leg back, preparing to knee her in the face.

  He felt a searing pain flow through his body that started with his right calf as the boy bit deep into him. Rod pulled away and followed through with his knee to the woman’s face. When it connected, Kimberly fell limp and into a heap that was piled directly in front of the bedroom door.

  Hands wrapped around Rod’s right ankle and he felt another shot of pain spread through his body starting at that ankle. He tried to pull away, but the grip on his ankle was too strong. Holding onto the bed frame, with his back to the boy, he stomped down backwards with his left foot on the zombie’s jaw and stood up pulling his right foot from the powerful undead’s grasp. His right leg was free, but now the ghoul fought for control of his left foot. Rod jumped up, turned, and kicked the six year old in the face.

  The boy rolled backwards, but quickly managed to get onto it’s hands and knees. The beast opened and closed his mouth, as if he were chewing on something, even though it’s jaw was completely crushed. Rod stepped forward and kicked the boy in the face as it crawled toward him.

  The door was trying to be forced open, but Kimberly’s body lay in a ball in front of it. She started to move and Rod grabbed her by her hair and unraveled her folded body. She slowly reached up supporting her hair, and started to show signs of a stunned recovery. Rodriquez pulled the woman away from the door by her disheveled reddish blond hair stretching her body.

  Eric peered his head into the room just in time to see Rod kick the crawling boy in the face for the third time. Then he noticed the foot that was just barely sticking out from the end of the bed and stepped completely in and saw Dave’s body lying with his stomach ripped open and his lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. Rod pushed on his chest and said, “There’s nothing we can do for him, we need to get out of here.”

  “Don’t leave me sugar.” A southern accent forced its way out of Kimberly. She was trying to get situated, but they could tell she was still very disoriented. She ran her hand through her hair to get it out of her face and tried to hide her naked body that was exposed by her open fuzzy blue robe.

  Rod looked at her, as he shoved Eric out of the door and turned just to see her undead son turn its focus and attention on his mother. As they ran down the wood stairs they could hear the dazed woman plead for her son to stop. She pleaded for her son to remember her. She pleaded for her son to not come near her. She pleaded for her son not to bite her. She begged for her son to stop.

  Chapter 8

  The change

  They left through the back of the house, to avoid the wandering undead and after they crossed through a few yards in this suburb, the houses started to spread out more and more. After a while they started crossing multiple acres of wooded land before they would get to the next house. Eric and Rodriquez ran in silence while Drew asked question after question about David. The only response was from Eric and that was a sharp, “We’ll tell you later!”

  The morning had an unusual chill in the air, but as the sun greeted Eric and Drew with it’s warm touch the chill quickly began to melt away, but for Rod the chill was only getting worse. He began sweating even though his body was frigid and his right leg felt as if he had a hundred bees stinging him over and over again. The thought of the infection spreading through his body faster due to his heart beating faster and harder while running, scared him, so he suggested that they slow their pace a little and maybe duck into the next house they came to.

  His leg was throbbing with wave after wave of pain and the sting seemed as if it were traveling through his body. As they were cutting through one of the properties, a building that took the profile of a barn took shape on the horizon. “We’re stopping in that building up there,” Rod snapped. Eric turned and acknowledged his command, but was very bewildered as to the tone in which it came.

  Rod didn’t realize his request came out the way it sounded until he saw the look Eric gave him. “I’m not feeling well.” He said, “Sorry about that, I just need to rest for a second.”

  They had not seen any undead for a while and figured they would play it safe and avoid the house that was beginning to appear behind some trees, but rest at the barn. The barn was a classic red with wood shingles that looked as if they were in dire need of repair. One side of the double doors of the barn was open, so Rod stepped forward and pulled the black pistol that he got from David’s back pack. “Let me go in,” He said in a whisper as they got close to the door. “Just watch out here and I’ll let you know what I find.

  Eric pulled his rifle off his shoulder. Drew held a bat at his side and they both took watch outside the barn. Rod carried a bat in his left hand and the pistol in his stretched out right. He walked into the double doors with a mission. A faint hint of death hung in the overwhelming smell of hay. “Come on you fuck, come and get some.” A fury rose up in him that he could not contr
ol. He wanted to hurt something. He wanted to squeeze the life out of something. He wanted to feel someone’s skin rip between his fingers, as he tore into their flesh. He wanted to bite into the flesh of a living creature and feel their blood spurt out through the skin and between each tooth in his mouth. Rod wanted to kill something.

  The sun shined through the windows on the right side of the barn like wide laser beams, which had fine particles shining through them from the dirt floor and piles of hay. The barn was broken up into separate stalls with a chain that hung loosely on half of them and a solid wooden door on the other half. Large old wooden beams held the ceiling up and attached to them and above the stalls was another landing. Some of the stalls were used to store feed and hay and the landing above them was used to store more hay and other farming equipment that hung over the ledge, like sharp spears.

  Rod walked halfway through the barn kicking up dried powdered dirt, as he stepped through the middle of the barn, adding to the particles in the sun light laser beams, when he heard the sound of rustling on the far side of the building. “I knew you were in here, show yourself mother fucker.” He began to feel his body tremor. His whole body began to shake with anticipation.

  Eric and Drew, both could hear him and looked into the double door. They watched as a lone figure stumbled out of the far stall. They were not able to make out any of its features, but with its shaky and clumsy movements, there was no doubt it was a zombie.

  The creature walked forward after bouncing off one of the wooden beams with its right shoulder. When the undead moved closer, Rod was able to make out that at one time this man was one of the field hands that worked on the farm. He wore a pair of overalls that hid his muscular lower body and the straps slung over his shoulders hid his mid chest. This farm hand died quickly, because as he walked closer to Rod and deeper into the sun light, it became apparent that his throat had multiple large chunks missing from it.

  Rod put the pistol in the back of his jeans and switched his bat to his right hand. He moved closer for a swing and as soon as the farm hand began to raise its hands Rod let fly with the bat. The aluminum bat hit the zombie square in the temple making the sound of a squashing grape fruit that was just pitched at a major league ball player.

  The farm hand spun to its right, falling to his hands and knees and the momentum forced the ghoul to roll on its back. The undead laid still for a second, just long enough for Rod to observe the damage he had inflicted. The bat had completely smashed in the left side of it’s face above its mouth. The site of the damage he created excited him and the only thing that made him upset was that the undead did not feel pain the same way he did. He wanted this thing to hurt. He wanted this thing to scream out in agony.

  Rod lifted the aluminum bat above his head and brought it crashing down on the undead’s face and then did it again, and again and again. With each hit Rodriquez could feel the bat sink deeper into it’s skull and past the hard bone and into what felt like a wet sponge. The sound of rustling behind him broke his trance and satisfaction of the feeling of inflicting such destruction. He turned and saw another body moving toward him. It was another creature to release his anger out on and excitement filled him sending jolts of energy through his arms forcing him to grip the bat tighter.

  Another undead laborer that worked on the farm made its way out from one of the stalls. The now manic Rod ran to this worker and swung cracking it above the left knee. He did not want to kill this one as fast as he killed the other one. With the undead’s left leg broken he wanted to find out how many bones he could break before actually having to kill it. The ghoul was on it’s hands and knees working its way to a standing position and Rod was about to swing on one of its arms to knock it back down when he heard a gurgling sound coming from the undead that he had just smashed its head in. He turned and was shocked to see it was not dead and was rolling over. The zombies face looked like a piece of steak that was attached to a neck. There were absolutely no features on it that would give any indication that at one point this was a living creature until you saw its body. It rolled over and Rod brought the bat on the back of its skull, dropping it finally for good.

  A question popped into Rod’s head and washed the need to release his frustration. Dave had always told them to kill the brain, but he had driven the bat, so deep into its head that it would have killed the brain of any living creature. He thought to himself he needed to hit this one in the back of the head, just for experimental reasons. His rational thought made him angry. He was finally releasing his anger and it felt so good to him and this thought snapped him out of it. Rodriquez turned to the undead that just fell again because it tried to put pressure on its broken leg. The back of its head now faced Rod as if it were bowing down to him. He swung straight down on the back of its head and it dropped face first into the dry dirt.

  Rod felt the sun light hit him in the back as he heard the groan of another zombie enter the barn from the opposite double doors. It swung one of the doors wide enough to get its body through and was making its way into the barn and straight for Rod. This one was faster and moved with an excited purpose.

  He was now angrier than before because he could no longer let go of his emotion and had to try his theory again. He walked to the double doors to meet the uninvited guest.

  Eric signaled for Drew to follow him after he saw the other zombie come through the northern door. They ran around the western side of the barn, so the sun would not shine in their eyes. Making their way to the northern end of the barn they saw what had to be about twenty undead stumbling toward them just a few feet from the double doors. Some were beginning to stand after kneeling on something that looked to be a cow. As they stood they could see the animal was still alive and with the zombies moving away from it they could hear it cry out in pain.

  After stepping around the corner Eric and Drew immediately ducked back behind the barn. All, but two of the ghouls turn their attention to them, the other two were already half way through the door after Rod. “Go back to the bags!” Eric hollered to Drew and started to run. They ran back to the south side of the barn, shaded by the sun, just as the first set of undead made it around the building.

  Eric pulled the lever down on the .22 and chambered the first round while he was running. Lifting the rifle to his shoulder he looked down the iron sites. He thought back and replayed Dave’s instructions in his head, as if he were their coaching him through his first shot. Take it easy. There is no point in pulling that trigger if you’re not going to hit it. I set this up so you can see where your shot hits. Look through the V of your closest sight and focus the green dot between the V.

  He breathed slowly and focused on bringing the green dot in the middle of the top sight. Now place that green dot directly under the middle of the zombie’s eyes. The undead was moving slow and not wavering side to side too much and he focused the green dot just above the bridge of the undead’s nose. Now FIRE. He squeezed the trigger and a small dot appeared directly between the eyes of the undead. It completed the step it was taking and then fell face first to the ground. He pulled the lever down chambering another round and focused on the next zombie in line.

  Multiple shots rang out, every shot hitting its mark dropping another ghoul. The screaming from inside the barn got louder with each zombie that entered the double doors. They never wondered about the screaming because they knew it was Rod screaming, as if he were conducting a strange march to his own deadly swings.

  After Eric’s tenth shot and tenth slain zombie, he lined his sights on the next in line and pulled the trigger. Fear shocked his body as he stood motionless as this zombie did not fall, but continued to move forward. The absence of the small kick of the rifle and no loud explosion of the bullet shocked him. The rifle was empty.

  The five remaining worked past its fallen companions and reached out for Eric and Drew. Eric backed up and reached out to ensure that Drew was moving backwards. As he stepped backward and was about to turn to find Drew he saw one of the
zombies in the back get spun around and black blood showered the undead in the front of it.

  After Rod had destroyed his, now, welcomed visitors he walked out of the north doors of the barn just in time to see five turn the corner where Eric was shooting. After giving it a second to ensure Eric was finished firing he greeted the last one to turn the corner with a swift swing of his bat. The next closest zombie turned to Rod and was greeted in the same fashion Rods last victim was acknowledged with a solid blow to the face, but knowing this was not a killing blow it was immediately followed with a hard swing downward to finish the creature. The last three were finished in the same manner with each one either suffering one or two hits to the head.

  Blood was splashed across Rod’s body as if someone randomly drew black, brown and crimson red paint strokes across him, with speckled blood spots that littered his face. He breathed heavily standing over the pile of undead and his small statured body now looked ten feet tall.

  “How you doin?” Eric spoke with a slight playful cue in his voice to hide the concern he had for his friend. He just witnessed what he considered to be his long time friend just go through an extreme manic episode and was not sure what he was going to do next.

  Dropping the bat and running his bloody fingers through his blood caked hair, he snapped out of his daze and turned to Eric. “Who’s Puerto Rican now? I need a cigarette.”

  “You are definitely Puerto Rican, and you and I both need a smoke.” Now knowing his friend was back, “We drew too much attention here, I say lets make our way up to the house,” he pointed to the large house on the horizon, “and see if we can find some decent food and a place where you can get cleaned up.”

  Rod picked up the bat and turned to retrieve the gear they had dropped, as the mauled cow called for someone to put it out of it’s misery. Pulling his pistol Rod stepped up and silenced it.