Winter's Salvation Read online

  They lost electricity in the late afternoon on the third day. The news had notified them ahead of time and said the power plant was abandoned. The plant was now running on emergency generators and if you were not being supplied by another electric source, you would soon lose all power. They warned the listening audience of the supplies they should try to gather; candles, batteries, canned food, and how to conserve water. The news agency must have known that the electricity was about to die because right before the lights dimmed and power shut off, they told them to hang a white sheet from your window, so the military and police forces could spot you, pick you up and take you to one of their secure bases.

  As soon as the neighbor directly across the street opened his upstairs window he caught the attention of one zombie that lay against a burnt car. This zombie had lain in the same position ever since the fire out front had died down and everyone thought somehow he was dead again, but when the upstairs window opened, it turned to face the white sheet. It let out a groan as it straightened its body. This zombie looked in decent shape compared to some of the ones that had passed. There were no marks on it that showed he had been attacked, but then again David had mentioned all it takes is a small bite or scratch to infect you. It staggered up the stairs to the front door and started pounding on it. The zombies groans got louder and then from down the street a moan answered its call. Then from the opposite end two zombies were making their way through the parked cars groaning as well. They started to show up from literally nowhere, but everywhere at the same time.

  Eric remembered the old man that lived there. He wasn’t a nice old man; he was the type of man that just wanted to be left alone. Eric would wave or say hello to him when he passed by his yard on his jogs knowing he was going to ignore him. After a while it became a game for Eric and he waved and said hello just to annoy the old man. Every night the old man would don his baggy gardening gloves and khaki slacks, water his garden and pick and prune his perfect flower bed. Bright red, yellow and white roses poured from his yard. Not a single rose was out of place or misshapen.

  Now the slurred and broken hollering of the old man was louder than the zombie’s groaning. His beautiful flowers were nothing more than a mild nuisance to the ghouls as they marched over them to his front door. He lived alone and to Eric and the rest of his neighbors the only care this old man had was his precious flower bed. Obviously it meant more to him than his own personal safety because as the zombies pounded on the door, shaking his house, he looked out the front window screaming with boiling frustration as he watched the crowd grow on his front lawn and destroy his beautiful flowers.

  Eric watched as he knew this man would soon be consumed by the growing hoard. All four of them watched from Eric’s upstairs bedroom window with despair. Rod touched Drew’s shoulder as he stood up from the bed and nodded his head, “Lets go elsewhere.”

  Rod and Drew left the room and Eric moved closer to the window. He got on his knees and moved as close to the window as possible. A wave of helplessness ran over him. He could not let this miserable old man die, or be consumed alive. This man probably lived through wars, fights, born during the depression and countless atrocities, and now he is going to be eaten alive by his neighbors.

  Dave watched Eric knowing where his mind was wandering and waited for him to implode. Dave felt his friend’s anger and desperation growing and sat back on the bed and waited. Eric turned to Dave, sheer fury showed on his face and he got up to fetch the 22. that lay on the dresser. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dave said quietly, but firmly.

  “Yeah it is.” Eric grabbed the gun.

  Dave leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You know if you open that window, they will hear it.” He ran his hand over his face wiping away the sweet beads from his brow. The rain was not knocking down the humidity and the temperature in the house was rising. “If you fire on them, they will, swarm this house.”

  “We’ll leave through the back.” Eric said as he got back on his knees by the window.

  “You’re willing to risk the lives of three for the life of one?” Dave asked. He leaned deeper over his knees facing Eric, closer to his level. “You don’t have enough bullets to kill them all and you know they will eventually get inside. If you shoot now they will turn on this house and come through our already weak front door.” He paused for a second to let that information sink in. “We don’t have supplies ready for the road.”

  “We’re ready.” Eric said. “We’ve been ready for an entire day. The only reason we haven’t left yet is because of the fucking rain.” He turned away from Dave and unlocked the top latches of the window.

  “So what’s our plan? Get out and start running north? We haven’t even talked about this yet. No cars, the streets are packed. We can’t walk up the highway, they’re covered with zombies.”

  Before the power went out, the news showed pictures and video of the highways and the more traveled roads, as a deterrent to keep the listening audience inside. The streets were full of undead and the highways were worse. Thousands of zombies would gather around cars that had people inside fighting for their lives. Helpless and hopeless they waited for the windows to break under the pressure of the undead. It showed women and children being pulled from their vehicles and it showed the windows shattering and every zombie on the outside trying to shove their rotting bodies inside the vehicle.

  “We go to Carl’s place.” Eric said.

  “Why don’t we shoot for the Beach View shopping center? We hit the stores and get what we’re going to need; food, clothes and batteries.”

  “A couple back packs too.”

  Dave stood up and put his hand out for the rifle. “I need to check the sights anyway.”

  Eric was reluctant to hand over the gun thinking David was not going to fire on the ghouls.

  “We don’t even know if this thing fires or not. I’ll give it back to you when I adjust the sights and know that it’s accurate.” He grabbed the barrel of the rifle. “You should tell Rod and Drew to get ready.”

  He let go of the 22. giving it to Dave. They watched each other while Eric left the room. As soon as their vision was broken from the door way, Dave opened the window. The smell of death, rotting flesh and burnt bodies mixed with melted rubber assaulted his nose, making him dry heave. This is the reason all the windows were still closed. It did not matter which way the wind was blowing the scent of the undead was in every direction. When the smell hit him, Dave thought there is not a worse place they could be. Four blocks on either end they were surrounded on all sides by streets of row homes. If each house had three maybe four people in them there had to be thousands of zombies in this neighborhood alone. They have thought about this before, but faced with getting ready to actually leave, the realization of actually running out there and facing them, struck hard with Dave.

  With the window open the groaning and random screaming of one or two in the hoard was deafening, and Dave tried to think about where they were going to go after he made his shot. He looked down at the crowd that grew from the old man’s front step and fanned out into the street. Something in the crowd caught his attention as he saw a line being made in the hoard. The line looked as if the zombies were parting for a specific individual in the crowd. With closer examination it was a zombie running through the hoard and pushing the ones in front of it out of its way. This zombie that was running was stronger than the clumsy ones and had more dexterity. He thought back to when he was being chased two days ago, and thought that when you are first infected it takes a while for your body to decompose and rigor-mortis to set in. That is why most of these ghouls are so slow. They were infected in the beginning and the runners are newly infected.

  This running zombie was followed by another from the other side of the crowd and pushed its way through the mass. As the first runner reached the door it pushed two ghouls over the railing of the steps and smashed into the door. It was evident that this zombie was incredibly strong. A crack follo
wed the pounding of the door and the old man’s face of anger and disgust turned to fear as he looked to the door. Dave watched him through the window and from his expression alone Dave knew he only had seconds to shoot.

  He pulled down on the golden lever. His mind flashed back to holding his 22. back to when he was a little kid. His vision took him back home with his father; out in the open fields listening to him say in his rough voice, “Breath deep and squeeze that trigger when you’re good and ready,” Looking down the sights of his rifle, the young David, lined the red bottle cap with his end sight. He opened his small hands and closed them tighter on the wooden stock of the rifle and pulled the trigger. The bottle cap disappeared, but so did the top of the glass bottle it sat upon. He looked up to his father’s clean shaven face and his high and tight hair cut, “See what happened? You inhaled as soon as you pulled the trigger. Next time exhale, hold for a second then squeeze the trigger.”

  With a new cap balanced on the broken top of the bottle, Eric aimed for the red top. He exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger. The bottle cap disappeared and the air was silent after the rifle screamed out with its bang. A heavy hand lay on David’s black course hair, “There you go son,” followed by a tight hug from his loving father.

  Now Dave stepped back from the window just a bit to be out of open view of the attackers. A second assault to the front door and the runner was now able to reach into the old man’s house. It reached deep into the house grabbing at air. Dave aimed down from his window, looked down the iron sights and lined them up with the head of the runner. It was shoulder deep and its face was looking off to the side. The iron sights were aimed with the temple of the zombie. He exhaled and squeezed the trigger. The head of the runner bounced against the wooden door and its knees buckled. It dropped, but started to get back up and then fell once again as it’s arm got stuck in the door. Walkers immediately took the place of the hanging zombie and commenced beating on the door.

  He pulled the golden leaver down chambering another round. There were two zombies that grabbed hold of the wooden door and pulled the top section of the door down. Dave thought if he could fill the front step with undead bodies it would buy the old man a little time. He could see into his house and saw that he had placed a few items behind the front door. As the two zombies pulled at the top of the door the hoard groaned louder with excitement; knowing that they would soon eat live flesh.

  Another shot echoed through the street and another zombie dropped from the open hole in the door. The zombie that was climbing through as well dropped with the third shot. A few more climbed over the three now lifeless zombies. The fourth zombie was shot square in the temple as it attempted to climb into the house, but only paused and then continued to try to get in. With the next shot that zombie went down. Shot after shot, undead bodies piled onto each other making it difficult for them to make it to the door. As Dave continued to fire he noticed some of them did not fall lifeless, but instead continued to force themselves deeper into the door, not realizing they were shot at all. He pulled down on the lever and fired on another zombie, but no bullet fired. David thought to himself that the caliber bullet must not be large enough to destroy the brain in one shot. He had spent through ten shots and now had to reload, but Eric had the bullets and even if he had them reloading right now would take too long and the zombies would have filled the old man’s house before he would be able to get off another shot. He looked out of the upstairs window looking for the other runner. He looked where he seen the runner last and the undead began to fill the path that it made. Initially the path lead to the old man’s house, but now the filling path had turned toward theirs.

  From deep in his window Dave could see half of the hoard in the street had turned their attention to his weak front door. His immediate attention was not on the hoard of walkers, but on that one runner. For the first time in days he felt a breeze touch his face as he hung his head out of the window, just in time to see the runner push its way through the last line of undead making their way to his shelter. He pulled his head back in and ran out of the bed room.

  “We got to go!” he screamed as he turned the corner at the top of the stairs. Dave knew the front door would not hold. It was already broken in half and burnt all to hell. At this point the front door might as well been just an illusion or strictly there for show. The only reason the door was still upright was because of the furniture that was packed behind it.

  Dave ran down the steps skipping most of them and falling backwards on his heels and slid to the bottom, maintaining his balance. He could hear the pounding of footsteps running to the door and as he climbed over the sofa and entertainment center, the barricade shook as the runner smashed his way through the door and against the piled furniture.

  Rod and Eric were waiting down stairs, holding black gym bags filled with as much food as the bags would hold. They jumped as the house shook with the impact of the running ghoul. Drew looked out the back window and watched the half eaten woman lying in the middle of the street. He had watched her since the beginning of the attack and believed she may have finally died.

  “From here the alley that runs like this, is clear.” Eric made a hand gesture that symbolized the alley that ran perpendicular that connected to their alley behind them.

  Dave ran past him toward the kitchen and tossed him the 22. “It’s empty,”

  The screaming of the runner was almost deafening and its endless assault on the furniture was pushing it further into the house with each second. They ran out the back door and then through the privacy fence in the back yard. Eric made sure he closed each door on his way out. From the yard they ran to the left and up the alley that ran perpendicular to the back of his row house. Immediately as they ran down the alley peering eyes from every house on their left gazed at them and in an undead choir, they all groaned in unison with surprise and excitement.

  They all expected the unwelcome company from the houses, but none expected when they turned right and looked around the corner the mass that was assembled and traveling in their direction. Shoulder to shoulder, and multiple rows deep a hoard was working its way down the narrow alleyway. The sun fought through the rain clouds in defiance of the four not wanting to see the hell that awaited any victim of this disease.

  Every one of the undead in the crowd was mutilated. Torn clothing exposed their bare muscles and fat from peeled back skin. Chunks of flesh fell from their faces and bodies, as they moved toward them. The ones that could not travel as fast as the ones behind them from limps being chewed were pushed over and trampled, so the ones in back could grab at one of the four.

  They turned quickly and ran toward the half eaten zombie that lay in the middle of the alley. As they ran back in the direction they came, they all were alerted by the runner falling through the window of Eric’s house. They ran past his privacy fence and the runner reached for them as it tried to climb over the weathered and weak wooden fencing. The wood cracked in half and splintered into the yard causing the runner to fall backwards, onto its back.

  The woman in the alley woke from her undead slumber and turned to life as it pushed itself around with it’s one arm trying to get a better look and maybe take a bite out from one of them. Her teeth gnashed reaching for them as they ran past. Eric remembered watching this woman run from her back yard and into the alley. He did not know what the front of the house may have in store for them, but he did know that the back door was still intact.

  “This way,” Eric hollered as he led them to the woman’s back yard. They managed to get to the yard before any of the zombies got to the alley and locked the door behind them. The house was a spitting image of Eric’s. The back door led them directly into the kitchen and that lead directly into the living room.

  “Try not to make a lot of noise.” Dave whispered as he cautiously walked into the living room. The room was designed exactly like Eric’s, just decorated differently. This kitchen had roosters on every piece of furniture and littered every wall in the
kitchen and dining room. Framed pictures of roosters with a barn back round still stood on two of the living room walls. Two other pictures were smashed and knocked to the ground. There was at one point in time, an assortment of rooster and barn knick knacks that were displayed across the dining room table, but now they lay shattered on the ground, next to the broken table they once sat upon.

  There were obvious signs of struggle throughout the house. The broken table and shattered knick knacks were just the first signs they saw. As Dave moved through the house he took caution not to touch the walls or any other furniture, to avoid getting any blood on one of Eric’s roommate’s soft leather jackets that he decided he would acquire.

  Eric watched through the back door as the runner ran past the house. This gave him a feeling of relief and he pulled the bullets from his pockets and started reloading the rifle. His hands were shaky from adrenaline and also this being the first time he actually had to reload it before he may actually have to use it.

  They all gathered at the front window and saw five undead bump into each other, as they wandered down the street. They watched the houses across from them and looked for any that they believed were empty.

  After ten or fifteen minutes they decided to enter one that the door was completely off the hinges and they were able to see through the front window. It looked as if there had been a struggle in the house, because only half the curtains were still hanging and appeared that they were physically pulled down. Dave believed that if there were a zombie in there it would have probably walked out the front door by now if it did change and then again they may just find a gooey mess that used to be Mister Wilson. Dave had a sick sense of humor and never tried to be too serious, even though he wanted to be taken seriously.

  They counted to three and as quietly as they could ran across the street.

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