Dead Men (and Women) Walking Page 18

  Guns within reach, they dozed. At one point, they were startled awake by a loud thump. The wind had indeed blown the screen door open this time. It banged angrily back against the house, then closed again.

  "I am so afraid," Sam whispered.

  "I am too, Sam," Ellie answered in the dark.

  Hearts pounding and eyes roving the darkness for any moving shape, they waited for dawn's merciful return.

  ***

  Days passed. The electricity was sporadic and things in the refrigerator began to spoil. The entire house carried that same sickly-sweet smell that had been with Neil Clark. Sam gathered the rotting food into a garbage bag and took it out back, far from the house. Ellie covered him, her rifle poised, a scowl on her face against the bright sun. They saw nothing.

  They buried Sam's father on the edge of the soybean field beyond the lawn because the earth was easier to turn there. They said a few words and neither of them cried. Tears had run dry days ago, replaced by an odd non-feeling.

  That feeling, that numbness was somehow more frightening than the fear and the sadness.

  Sam found his eyes always drawn to the soft sloping hills at the horizon, watching for shuffling, stooped figures coming to find them.

  He wondered what had happened to his mother, but forced himself to think of other things. The "what-ifs" were too horrible to envision.

  Ellie began to have a cautious sense of safety and she tried to infect him with it. He wanted to humor her, but he knew things could change quickly.

  Supplies held for the most part, but Sam was sick of canned vegetables and fruits. The Clarks considered themselves a frugal pair, and they had visited the shopper's clubs often. Sam had always teased their overbuying, but now he was certainly glad they had. Especially when he went to the cellar and discovered five cases of imported beer stacked in the cool darkness.

  They passed the time having sex, getting drunk and listening to music. His parents had one hell of a jazz collection and they had a constant loop of Coltrane, Davis, Parker, and an army of others. He had hated that music growing up, but it was comfort now. They slow danced like they were anywhere beside an old farmhouse waiting for the world to end.

  Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday sang them to sleep at night--"Under a Blanket of Blue," and "Autumn In New York"--their dreamy voices echoing in through a tunnel created by paranoia and alcohol.

  ***

  On the tenth day, the cats began to gather. Sam did not notice anything unusual at first--one or two cats slinking around. It was farm country, after all. Cats always hung around and most times his mother or father would end up feeding them. But by dusk, it had grown to something much more than just one or two.

  The mewling, mournful crying was suddenly audible even over the music. "What the hell was that?" Ellie asked.

  Sam switched down the volume and Sarah Vaughn faded into the background for a moment. He peered out the living room window and could not believe what he saw. There were a thousand eyes staring back at him. Reflected silver and ghostly in the moonlight, unblinking. He nearly screamed, then realized it was only cats.

  Only cats.

  "You're not gonna believe this," he said. Ellie came over, put her face next to his and looked out.

  They were everywhere, crowding the porch railings. The steps. The rocking chairs and the little side table out there. They paced the lawn, droves of them. Waiting.

  Sam and Ellie could hear light footfalls on the roof even, pawing at the upstairs windows. The crying was like that of infants alone and starving.

  Sam's father had always kept a big bag of Kitty Chow in the garage, to feed those slinking visitors and he ran out to get it.

  "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Ellie wanted to know.

  "We can't let them starve to death."

  When he opened the front door, the cats scattered like roaches in the light. He emptied the bag on the front walkway, fifteen pounds at least.

  The cats stampeded back and Sam rushed back into the house, surprised and startled. Ellie slammed the door behind him.

  "So, what happens when they eat that up?" Ellie asked. She had never liked cats, and Sam could see she was not thrilled with a herd of them just outside the door.

  It did not take long to find out what would happen when the food was gone. It was a gruesome scene as they began to tear into one another. The smaller ones went down first, torn apart by the bigger ones. Sam watched the nightmare out the window, his hand nervously rubbing his beard roughened jaw. "I can't believe I caused this," he whispered, although in the grand scheme of things, he knew a bunch of cats were insignificant.

  Ellie pulled him away from the window by the hand and then she switched the music back up, even louder than before, to mask the growls and cries outside.

  ***

  He had lost count of the days, but he knew it had been more than a week since the cat incident. It was more the stink of the cat carcasses rotting outside that kept them indoors than the fear of one of the infected paying a visit.

  They grew bored and both began to wonder what if anything was left outside the valley. Food was dwindling down. The beer was nearly gone. Sam longed for the ocean and the sun and began to consider returning to the coast. He would ask Ellie to go with him, he decided. Of course, if she did not want to go there, he would stay with her. The idea of being so totally alone scared the hell out of him.

  Ellie began to show signs of infection on a Tuesday evening, shortly after an ill attempted venture to some of the neighboring houses. Their only encounter with anyone was with a guy they had known back in grade school. Peter. Peter-somebody.

  Pete had always been a bit off and when they discovered him, he was sitting crossed-legged on the floor in a pool of his own waste. The stench was tremendous. It had soaked into his jeans and up the hem of his t-shirt, some caked and dry, some quite fresh. He had devoured his left foot to the bone.

  He seemed to be completely unaware of their presence in the house.

  "Shoot him," Ellie said.

  "He's not doing anything, Ellie," Sam protested. "Let's just leave him. He'll be dead soon enough."

  "He's dead now. Do it. He knows we're here--"

  "You can't really believe that. He hasn't even moved."

  "Look, you go into the kitchen and see if you can find anything we can use. I'll watch him."

  Sam shrugged and went to search the cupboards. It was only a few moments it seemed, before he heard a scuffle, then the shots. He jumped, heart thundering, dropping cans of food onto the floor.

  "Ellie!"

  He found her sitting on the floor grasping her calf. Peter-somebody was sprawled on the floor, his rotting brains spilling all over the rug. His legs still twitched slightly.

  "I told you, Sam!"

  "What the hell--"

  "He fucking bit me."

  "Here, let me see." He took her hand and pulled away. Blood jetted from the ragged wound and he nearly fainted dead away. He took a deep breath and pressed her hand back over it. "I'll find some gauze or something."

  "Fucking lot of help that is," Ellie muttered. "Cut my leg off, Sam. Maybe it's not in my bloodstream yet."

  Sam pretended not to hear her and fled to the bathroom in search of a first aid kit.

  She was showing signs of infection before the night was over. Very soon he would be alone again.

  ***

  Now he sat, waiting, back against his bedroom door, Ellie's rifle lying on the floor next to him. She had gone crazy an hour ago, tore up his room, then went into a rant about how fucking weak he was. How stunted. How sniveling. She screamed through the door that she had dumped him on her own; not because of the constant prodding from her family. He was weak and most times she only stayed with him because she had pitied him. She cursed him with language saved for sailors and death row inmates. She clawed at the door furiously and he could imagine her nails splintering and peeling back from the ends of her fingers.

  She begged him for death, before t
hings went even further south. He promised over and over again that he would.

  He lied. He'd always been able to spit out a lie as easily as the truth. He could smell the death stink coming under the door. He could hear her breath against the wood, almost as if it were on the back of his neck.

  "I'll break through this fucking door, Sam. I will take you down with me for doing this," she whispered, wet and slurred. "I will take you down and you will hurt like I hurt right now."

  Sam reasoned that surely there were others out there that were not infected, but those thoughts quickly turned to the possibility of being the only one left. Was there a reason to go on, if he was to be all alone? Besides, did he actually think he could survive long enough to find others?

  Ellie was right, just like Katy. He was weak. He was an overgrown little boy.

  His little daughter had been devoured right before his eyes. His mother, who had coddled him and his father, who had doted on him were gone, too. Everyone who loved him was gone.

  His world was as good as gone.

  He sat as the sun began to sink and the hallway became dark. Ellie had grown quiet again and he knew she was waiting as well.

  Finally he sighed and reached up. He unlocked the bedroom door then he picked up the rifle. He moved across the hallway, opposite the door and placed the gun across his knees.

  "I'm waiting, Ellie," he said quietly. "I'm waiting."

  EVERY TIME I CLOSE MY EYES

  By Tanya Nehmelman

  "Emma Help!" Eva cried.

  "Eva where are you?" Emma frantically screamed as she searched the murky lake water. In the distance Emma saw her sister bobbing up and down. Emma swam as fast as she could to get to Eva in time. It wasn't fast enough. By the time Emma got there Eva was completely submerged under the water.

  "Eva!" Emma screamed as she splashed around desperately trying to locate her sister. Then directly beneath her, Emma saw her sister's figure.

  "Eva!" Emma cried.

  Suddenly a white face with pink blood shot eyes, and yellow razor sharp teeth appeared in the water, and stared straight at her. Emma felt her heart jump in fear. Through the white face Eva suddenly emerged from the water.

  Her lips were blue, and blood trickled out of her nose.

  "Emma, it should have been you!" Eva gargled as she grabbed Emma by the shoulders and forced her under the water.

  Emma screamed as she jumped straight up in bed. Sweat dripped down her back, and her eyes were filled with tears. She rolled over to look at her alarm clock.

  "Great, awake at three again." Emma mumbled.

  She turned the T.V. back on and watched music videos. She tried to go back to sleep a couple of times, but every time she closed her eyes she would see that creepy white face.

  Seven o'clock came fast. Emma dragged her butt out of bed and got ready for work.

  "No sleep again Em? Courtney asked.

  "Nope, and don't forget I have to leave early today, I have another appointment." Emma replied.

  "No problem." Courtney said.

  All day Emma dragged. Her eyelids were heavy and she was so tired. It seemed like it took forever for three o'clock to roll around. Emma finished up and rushed off to her appointment with her therapist.

  Emma sat out in the waiting room and doodled as she waited for Valerie to come out and get her. Emma was so focused on her drawing that she didn't notice Valerie standing in front of her.

  "Uh um." Valerie whispered.

  Emma looked up and said, "Oh, hi."

  Then she followed Valerie down the long hall into her office.

  "So how are you?" Valerie asked in a cheery voice.

  Emma looked down and through her clenched teeth answered, "Fine."

  "You're not fine." Valerie replied.

  Emma looked up at her.

  "Look you've got dark circles under your eyes. Are you having trouble sleeping again?" Valerie asked.

  Emma nodded.

  "Dreams again?" Valerie asked.

  Emma nodded.

  "So are you going to tell me about it?" Valerie asked.

  Emma shrugged her shoulders and took a quick glance around.

  Then she began to speak, "It was about my sister again. It's been

  over a year, when are they going to stop?"

  "I don't know. What happened in this dream?" Valerie replied.

  "Well it was like the day she drowned. I swam out to get her, but was too late again. Then..." Emma trailed off.

  "Then what?" Valerie asked.

  Emma became real fidgety and wouldn't look at Valerie. Her eyebrows scrunched up as she continued, "I saw the white face." Emma was crying by now. "Then Eva jumped out of the water and said it should have been me."

  "You don't believe that, do you?" Valerie asked.

  Emma looked down at her feet and shrugged.

  "You do." Valerie sighed.

  Emma looked her in the eye with her tear filled eyes confirming Valerie's belief. Emma became very fidgety again.

  "I should have been able to help her." Emma said.

  "Oh honey, it's not your fault." Valerie replied.

  "What makes you so sure?" Emma asked.

  "You can't blame yourself Emma." Valerie said.

  Emma nodded as she once again stared at her feet.

  Valerie came up to her and placed her hand on Emma's shoulder. She flinched. "Okay, I want to see you next week." Valerie said as she walked Emma out. Emma nodded.

  "If things get bad don't be afraid to call me." Valerie added.

  "Okay." Emma answered.

  She left the office and drove home. The dreams began to come every night. Emma found herself staying up later and later. Consequently making her extra tired for work, and her work began to suffer. Courtney took notice and sent her home to get some rest.

  Emma laid on the couch once she got home. She switched on the T.V. and tried closing her eyes, but every time she did she saw that creepy white face. After lying there for awhile, Emma eventually fell asleep.

  "Emma!" Eva cried.

  "Eva, Eva where are you?" Emma cried as she searched the dark graveyard.

  "Emmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaaa" Eva moaned.

  Emma followed Eva's voice to a grave. She kneeled down before it. She read the gravestone. Emma's name was inscribed in it.

  "It should have been you!" Eva gargled.

  A white boney hand with long sharp black fingernails popped out of the dirt and grabbed Emma by the wrist. She screamed and tried to yank her arm away. The white face appeared from under the dirt.

  Emma screamed and became more frantic. She yanked with all her might and finally broke free, sending herself flying backwards. But the nails had dug deep gashes into her wrist.

  Emma woke screaming. She dabbed the tears from her cheek and felt something warm running down her arm. She looked down at her wrist and saw the three gashes, bleeding. Emma cried as she got up and ran to the bathroom.

  She blotted the blood away with a tissue. She knew if she went to the hospital she would never be able to explain this, so she butterfly bandaged the three gashes and wrapped her wrist up with gauze. She started to stock up on caffeinated drinks and caffeine pills. She would be sure she never went to sleep again.

  Emma sat in waiting room fidgeting. She knew Valerie was going to ask her about her wrist, and she had a strong feeling that she wouldn't believe her. Valerie came out and led Emma back to her office.

  "Emma, you don't look very good. Are you still not sleeping?"

  Valerie asked. Emma shook her head no. Just like Emma expected Valerie noticed her wrist and asked what happened.

  "You won't believe me." Emma mumbled as she looked down at her feet.

  "Try me." Valerie replied.

  Emma looked up at her trying to decide if she should tell her or not. "Valerie's always listened before. She'd most likely be the only one to believe me." Emma thought to herself.

  "Okay, um two days ago I was sent home from work to get some rest. I fell asleep
on the couch, and had another dream. Only Eva's voice was in it this time. I was at a grave with my name on it. A

  boney white hand with really long black finger nails grabbed me. Then I saw the face, and pulled my arm free. His nails cut me, and when I woke up the gashes were here." Emma showed her, her wrapped up wrist.

  "Let me see it." Valerie insisted.

  Emma hesitated a moment then slowly began to unwrap her wrist. Once the three gashes were exposed Valerie gasped. She took hold of Emma's arm to examine the wounds better.

  "Oh Emma." Valerie whispered.

  "You believe me, don't you Valerie?" Emma asked.

  She looked Valerie in the eyes. Valerie could tell by the look in

  Emma's eyes that she wasn't lying.

  "Yeah." Valerie answered.

  Emma's fidgeting began once again as she contemplated on asking her next question.

  "Valerie..." Emma trailed off.

  "Yeah?" Valerie replied.

  "Do you, do you think Death ever makes a mistake?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well maybe it was supposed to be me."

  "Emma don't say that."

  "Why not? Maybe Death mistook Eva for me; after all she was my twin." Emma suggested as she wrapped her arm back up. "Think about it, maybe that's why he's coming for me in my dreams. I see his face every time I close my eyes. I'm just afraid that the next time I open my eyes he'll still be there."

  "Emma, this face in your dreams, how do you know that it's Death?" Valerie asked.

  Emma shrugged then said, "I just know."

  "Okay, well I want to see you again next week. If things don't get any better call me and I'll work you in sooner." Valerie said.

  Emma nodded as she got up to leave.

  "Emma?" Valerie said.

  Emma turned to look at her.

  "I'm serious. And get some rest. If you get any worse you're going to have to go back to the hospital." Valerie said.

  Emma got home and plopped herself down on her couch and flipped on the T.V. "I can't go to sleep." She thought to herself.

  She began rocking her body back and fourth. She was so tired. Emma kept getting up and walking around to keep herself from falling asleep. Her body was now immune to the caffeine.