Winter's Salvation Page 13

  “I’m sure they don’t need syrup and are perfect just the way they are.” Naomi was quick to interrupt and scowled at her daughter.

  Naomi made her way to the window and glanced out at her house. The broken glass from the kitchen doors window was scattered over the small porch sending shimmers of sun light reflecting at her. She looked through the window next to the door and a lone figure stood with it’s back to them, standing completely still in the middle of the kitchen. No defining features were discernible from the figure, but it looked as if it was not wearing a shirt and long stringy unkempt hair flowed from its head.

  “What are we going to have for dinner?” Sam asked after swallowing a large mouth full of pancakes. She realized the pancakes didn’t need any syrup on them after all.

  “Why don’t you go out to the garage and pick something out? We got all kinds of meats out there, but the ones on top should probably be eaten first.

  Sam chewed another mouth full and got up from the table. Naomi watched as she left and followed close behind her. Sam was hesitant to open the door at first and did so very slowly. She peaked through the slightly opened door and tried to listen closer than any human could. She expected to hear the sound of a bag rustling or the claws trying to dig through the concrete floor, but it was silent.

  She opened the door wide and ensured the door was not going to close behind her before going any deeper. Once again the only light that was shining through was from the three inches coming from under the garage door and from the kitchen that surrounded the silhouette of her mother standing in the door way.

  The freezer was old and showed it’s age from the dirt and rust that streaked the once white surface and as Sam opened the freezer, she looked at the rubber seal that was peeling away from the lid. Like Mr. Cook said a wide variety of meats presented itself, but some of the meats and poultry looked as old as the freezer. A turkey was buried under a mountain of boxed fish sticks and packaged ground beef. She poked at the ground beef and the tips of her finger tips dug into the red meat. She pulled the package out then grabbed a box of fish sticks and felt the cardboard go limp in her hands from the moisture.

  She looked to her mother. “I don’t think this meat is going to last much longer? I think the freezer is no good.”

  “I was thinking we should probably test the generator out today anyway, so we’ll let it run for an hour or two just to refreeze the stuff that is thawing.” Cook said approaching the garage as they were talking. “It looks like it is going to rain, so as soon as she opens up, we’ll run her.”

  The rain didn’t come for many long and boring hours. Mr. Cook talked about his son who died during Operation Desert Storm and his lovely wife and all Sam could think about was what her friends were doing. For the first time in her life she missed school and actually would prefer to be sitting in her class room right now. Every once in a while she would glance at the lone figure in her house and then look out the windows at the fence line. The ghouls that were surrounding the fence appeared to have moved on and at the southern end of the property she was able to make out a few figures. They looked to be moving and would soon be away from the house.

  For lunch they ate the thawed fish sticks and then at dinner while forming the thawed ground beef into hamburger patties they heard the first sounds of rain tapping on the roof. They looked at each other with mild excitement and Naomi quickly realized how sad it was that they were looking forward to the rain, so they could do something different.

  The rain began to pick up, as they finished dinner. The sound of thunder shook the house and Mr. Cook addressed them, “I think we could run that generator now.” He nodded for Sam to join him. The generator was placed in between his truck and the junk pile on his wife’s cream colored hatch back. Mr. Cook had to walk on top of fallen bags in order to get to the small generator and for each one that he stepped on another fell off the vehicle. The bags he stepped on were then tossed back on top of the pile.

  Sam watched him from the kitchen as he shuffled through the trash bags and pointed to the bed of the truck to three five gallon red gas cans. He disappeared behind the passenger side of the truck and then she could hear the pull start of the engine.

  The roar of the generator sounded as if the small house was falling in on itself and Sam immediately began to panic. The generator was too loud. Cook reappeared and walked back from a cleared path. Sam’s mother was leaning over her shoulder in agreement, that this was a bad idea. He waved them back into the kitchen and closed the door behind him. “They can’t hear over this rain.” The crack of thunder overhead agreed with his analysis. “As soon as the rain begins to die down we’ll turn it off, but the meat will spoil if we don’t keep it frozen.”

  “How long will it run for?” Naomi asked.

  “About six hours. This rain is not going to stop for a while yet. We will be ok.” Mr. Cook pulled back the curtain of the kitchen door’s window. The rain was coming down hard and the moon was blocked by dark clouds. The fence line was just barely visible through the grey wall of rain. “See there are none of them out there. If we start to gather a crowd I’ll shut it down.”

  Naomi didn’t like the thought of running it, but they had to eat and the food was beginning to spoil. She walked to the couch and looked to her house. All she could make out of her home was the dark silhouette through the darkening sky. There was a figure standing on the other side of the fence walking the fence line as if the pounding rain had no effect on it at all. “Are you going to stay awake while the generator is running just in case?”

  “I don’t think we’re going to need it, but if you want me to I will.” Mr. Cook sank into the large recliner. “The generator will die out before the rain does. The news predicted this before we lost power.”

  Naomi didn’t like the thought of no one being awake, but did not want to stay up nor ask the old man to do so as well. The generator gave the house a consistent hum and Naomi began to feel comfortable with the rumble of the engine. She believed she would quickly fall asleep once she was able to relax and lay her head down. The shadows in the house began to stretch across each room, as the rain clouds became thicker and darker. “I think someone should definitely stay awake while it is running though.” She said.

  “I’ll stay awake and if I begin to tire I’ll come and wake you.” Mr. Cook said to Naomi. She didn’t want to be awakened, but it was the best thing for everyone and she responded with a half smile and a nod.

  In the guest bed room, light did not shine through the windows and the constant low hum of the generator made it easier to put her at rest. The feel of her daughter climbing under the covers with her topped off her comfort and she felt herself falling into a deep slumber. As she rested on the pillow next to Sam she felt her daughter breathing softly, but was restless as she wrestled with the passing events and how her whole world had changed in a matter of a couple days.

  The dark clouds covered the bright moon and hid the shadows of the blinds on the wall. Even though she did not have the shadows to play tricks on her mind, the undead on the other side of the fence, still lingered with her. Naomi closed her eyes and for the first time did not have to strain to keep them closed.

  **********

  “Damn it Coco I’m going to kick you in the face!” Mr. Cook hollered out from his room and the volume of his voice traveled directly into Sam and Naomi’s. This was a very popular saying here at the Cook residence. He never actually kicked any of the dogs in the face, but he threatened quite often. Naomi and Sam both have often wondered if at one point in time he actually did kick them, because normally whatever the dogs were doing they immediately stopped.

  The first time they heard him say this was when Coco was sitting on the end of the couch with its legs open, licking itself and they were both surprised by the speed in which the dog stopped. If the dogs stayed too close to or under the table waiting for falling scraps, the threat was thrown out again and all of them left with expedience.

  This tim
e the threat was used because one of the dogs was running on the kitchen floor and the constant pitter patter of prancing nails tapping the linoleum, was very loud in the dark and quiet rancher. Tonight Naomi thought she may actually kick the dog in the face if it would help her fall back to sleep. Sleep. It felt like only a second, but the house was quiet and the sound of the dog’s feet seemed louder than the generator. How long was I asleep?

  The covers were pulled off her and she rolled over, facing Sam. Was Mr. Cook awake? It sounded like he hollered from his room.

  “Are you ever going to stop moving?” Sam snapped. She was obviously agitated with her own thoughts. Her mother must have been tossing and turning, but she could not tell. This had been the sleep she was hoping for and needed, but was stolen from her.

  Naomi sat up. Her tight back sent a spike of pain through her body; reminding her that she couldn’t move as quickly as before. She watched Samantha put her shoes on and walk toward the door. “Where are you going?”

  Sam let out an irritated sigh “Getting a drink of water.” She did not offer her mother any, but Naomi did not feel the need to ask and instead was going to join her.

  Naomi scooted to the end of the bed and gripped the edge, squeezing tightly to release some of the tension in her back. With her back forced straight she slid her feet into the white nursing shoes Ms. Cook used to use and pulled a grey Alaska hoodie over her. She listened to the sound of a drop dripping onto the window sill. The rain must have stopped a while ago and there was no telling how long the generator ran before the rain had stopped. He must have shut it down if he was in his room. With that thought she began to feel better about the situation. She wanted to believe Mr. Cook would have shut it down before he would have gone to sleep.

  One of the dogs started to bark and the sound of the pitter patter and nails scrapping franticly scratched the linoleum kitchen floor, as the two other white dogs ran to the barking one’s side.

  “God damn it dogs!” Mr. Cook’s bed groaned, as he tried to get up. “Toto if you’re in my blinds again I am going to have you for breakfast!”

  “I’ll get them Mr. Cook. I’m getting a glass of water anyway.” Sam said with a completely different attitude than she had seconds before. All three white Bichons were barking now and tearing at something.

  Now that the rain had stopped, she was physically forcing her eyes away from the wall. As she sat straight up in bed she was startled by the shadow she casted along the barred wall. No longer could she feel the comfort of the clouds covering the moon hiding the shadow that plagued her thoughts. The moon shined brighter than ever through the window behind Naomi, casting her shadow on the wall.

  She sat and looked at her shadow, while trying to force herself from the bed. The moon light shined through perfectly on her back and she could see every piece of braided hair that was out of place on her head. She thought about giving up and lying back down, but with the dogs constant barking and now filled with worry she knew sleep would not take her again. Naomi thought about going out into the living room, sitting back in the same position she was in earlier that day tracing out the images that were engraved in the wooden paneling that covered the living room.

  Sam stepped into the living room and saw one of the white Bichon Frise standing with it’s rear legs digging into the back cushion of the sofa, trying to hold herself up while she raked at the living room blinds. The dog had a few of the slats pulled out from the blind and where it focused on digging were none at all. The other two dogs were fighting for position on the back of the couch. Samantha pushed the digging dog on it’s right side sending it flying off the back of the couch and onto the sofa seat cushions, but not without the dog showing its disapproval, by snapping at her hand and grabbing the tip of her fingers. “Bitch,” she said softly, holding her left hand close to her face, trying to study the damage the dog had done.

  Sam brushed the fighting dogs off to the side and they immediately fell to the yellow floor and jumped onto the love seat adjacent to the couch and began fighting.

  The dogs were fighting for the same piece of window Sam used earlier that day to watch her house and now she moved closer to see if she could see her house through the hole the dogs made in the blinds. Even though the moon was bright tonight, Sam could not see very far. She moved closer and began to feel a little queasy in her stomach, but she wanted to see if she could make out anyone in her room.

  She put both knees on the couch and looked out of the hole the dog made for her. There was a brown blanket that was swaying on the other side of the window. The blanket started to move and she realized the blanket was not swaying in the breeze, but rocking back and forth. The cloth appeared to move down as if someone was removing it and then a man’s face appeared, looking through the hole in the blinds.

  His cheek was ripped from his face in a perfect circle revealing a set of white molars. It let out a groan of excitement as it made eye contact with Sam. She knelt there on the couch and screamed, as she watched the creature’s tongue roll with anticipation of it’s next meal.

  Naomi just pulled the knot tight on the shoes when she heard Sam scream. She looked up and stood quickly realizing her shadow never moved. Her dark shadow was engulfed by a larger ominous one that was created by the same moon that created hers.

  Two large shadowed hands pressed on the window with its fingers spread and then pulled back and hit the window now in the form of two fists. Glass fell and landed on Naomi’s back and covered the bed. She moved quickly to the door as the ghoul reached into the room and tore down the blinds. It reacted to Sam’s scream, but when it thrust its head into the room it saw Naomi and let out a groan of its own. Strands of blood stained cloth hung from it’s mouth stuck between broken and bloodied teeth.

  Naomi backed up until she was in the hall way and bumped into Mr. Cook. He looked into the room just as the creature climbed over the window sill and landed on the bed rolling off to the floor. Naomi was forced to the side as Cook reached into the room and pulled the bedroom door shut.

  A plethora of noises came from the living room. The sounds of banging on the kitchen sliding glass door, mixed with the sound of the windows being beaten and then followed by the shattering of glass being spread across the linoleum floor. The three dogs were barking adding to the chaos coming from the front of the house. Sam came running down the hallway toward them followed by one of the white dogs.

  Cook ran into the living room, picked up the rifle and the set of keys on the table. Naomi was not far behind him and the keys were thrust into her hand. “Go get the truck started.” This was a demand and Mr. Cook had a very serious look on his face. He did not show worry or fear, but his eyebrows were formed into a stern V that met between his eyes. He gave the command sternly and blocked her view from seeing the ghoul that was crawling through the window and onto the couch. His plan worked because Naomi turned as if she were conducting an emergency drill that had been practiced hundreds of times, until it was performed flawlessly. She turned without question and went into the garage.

  Sam was not as obedient and witnessed the zombie climbing in. She also turned and saw Mr. Cook make a quick adjustment to the rifle and take aim on the ghoul.

  The garage was dark and only the outline of the truck could be seen from the door. Blindly feeling for the door handle Naomi found it and opened it, allowing the truck to illuminate the garage with its interior lights, casting ominous shadows on the wall. Naomi whipped around to the door of the house when she heard the first pop of the M1 Garand explode in the house, but was denied her ability to see by Samantha slamming the door that separated the house and garage, behind her.

  There was an unspoken understanding between mother and daughter. Sam spoke with her wide and fearful eyes of what was happening behind the door and Naomi was telling her to get into the truck.

  Naomi unlatched the garage door chain and began to raise it. When the rolling door opened to about three feet she realized this was the only boundary separating her
from the undead outside. She ran back to the Chevrolet and hands began to reach for her from under the door and then a body was making its way out from under it and into the garage.

  Naomi jumped into the truck, pressed the clutch and turned the ignition making the garage roar from the trucks engine, but one sound stood out amongst it all. Sam could make out the distinct sound of scratching paws at the garage’s house door over the undead’s groaning, and pounding.

  Sam felt a strong urge to get out of the truck and rescue the dogs. She held onto the truck’s door handle and cracked it open as soon as her mother put the truck in reverse. Light from the interior lights immediately shined on their faces and Sam opened the passenger door.

  Naomi showed a state of confusion from the light as they looked at each other. “Close the door!” She screamed and the truck jumped into gear, as it backed into the roll up door. The door bent outward and the Chevy stalled. It quickly roared back to life and lurched forward. The lights stayed on in the truck and Naomi turned back to Sam as she was about to climb out of the vehicle. “Close the fucking door!” She screamed. Three shots were fired in the house and then the scratching stopped.

  The truck moved forward crushing two plastic trash cans, as Naomi tried to get as much room as she could, so she could get as much speed as possible to ram the garage door. Sam stepped out of the truck, “Get your ass back in here!”

  “I’m getting the dogs!” Sam hollered back in defiance. Then she looked at her mother and screamed as she noticed one of the undead walking past the trucks bed and reach into the driver’s side window of the Chevy.

  Naomi turned just in time as the ghoul reached for her face. All she could make out from the undead was the filthy hand that reached for her. A grey palm that was covered in its other victim’s blood and caked with dirt as if it were crawling in the mud, grasped for her face. Behind that hand was a gapping maw filled with broken teeth that needed to be filled with the flesh of its victim. She felt herself being pulled to the window toward the open mouth that exuded with the stench of death and decay. The ghoul had her grey hood in his hand and was pulling her toward it. She braced herself against the door and the steering wheel, but the power of the zombie pulled her closer. Naomi tucked her head and pulled her arms through the sleeves, as the ghoul began to pull the hoodie off of her. Her arms were out of the sleeves, but she had to wrestle to get them out of the hoodie. The hungry and frenzied zombie grabbed hold of a portion of her braids through the sweat shirt and pulled the hoodie into its mouth.