Archive for November, 2005
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Twenty-two
November 21
Ginny leaned over the second floor railing and looked down at the contest below. The two men were staring at each other, the larger one a bit wobbly on his feet, Jeb standing so bravely with a long pole in his hands. She squinted into the darkness and recognized the flagpole, mostly because of the eagle topper. She wasn’t sure she wanted to watch what happened.
Since it affected her life, though, she found she couldn’t look away, couldn’t go and hide in the second or third floor stacks. She stood where she was, watching, and felt tears coming to her eyes. She didn’t deal well with stress like this.
The reading table that the two men were standing at had a few books on it. Mostly new releases with plastic-wrapped covers and a few left over from early morning visitors who had paid attention to the signs and not tried to reshelve the books themselves. Jeb reached a hand out and grabbed one of the books. He hefted its weight in his hand, then threw it at Bob’s head. The dead man wasn’t fast enough and the book caught him square in the face. The smacking sound was startling in the quiet library, but it didn’t look like it hurt him much. He gurgled.
Ginny started praying under her breath. “God, just help Jeb and me get out o’ this mess.” Jeb grabbed a second book, cocking his arm back farther this time, and let it go, twirling it sideways so it spun when he threw it. Again the dead man’s reflexes left him wanting. A sharp corner of the book caught him in the eye and Ginny could see the red blood come out on the book when it fell to the tabletop. It was a pity to see good books used in such a way, but it was better than being eaten any day. “Lord, let him make it through. He’s a good man.” The tears began to roll down her plump cheeks.
She sat down, looking through the bars of the railing. The light wasn’t at quite as great an angle here, but she could still see what was going on below her. Bob had apparently had enough of his maltreatment and started to edge aroound the table toward Jeb, who was trying to find a third book. He found a statuette of Mozart instead. He lifted the composer over his shoulder, almost cocked back like a baseball bat, and waited for the dead man to get closer.
Bob saw the statue, but didn’t seem to be able to work out what to do about it. He took another step around the table closer to Jeb, then a second. Jeb didn’t move away, just turned to follow the wobbly corpse’s progress around the table. Bob ran into a chair, almost tripping over it. He finally managed to kick it away, sending the lightweight chair skittering across the tile floor toward the front door. Jeb still didn’t move. Ginny heard him mutter something like “Just keep coming this way, you fucker,” but she wasn’t sure. And language like that wasn’t typical of Jeb. She continued to pray, now mostly in images in her mind than in any words she could make come out.
Bob’s steps were more cautious after the chair but he still advanced slowly on Jeb’s position. The old black man was proving his bravery today. Ginny was still amazed that he would try and take on something like this himself. She knew that if she had been alone with this monster, she probably would have just given up on the spot. Then it would have eat — no, better not to think about coulda beens.
Another two steps and Bob was well within the pole’s length of Jeb. Still, Jeb held his ground, not stepping back even when the dead man’s feet caught on each other and he almost fell face-first into the tile. He caught himself on all fours and looked up at Jeb. The growl floated up twelve feet and found Ginny’s ear. She whimpered unconciously.
When Bob was a couple of arm’s lengths from Jeb, Jeb cocked back the statue a bit further, then swung it around, connecting squarely with the dead man’s missing ear. A horrible crack rocketed up into the ceiling of the library and the dead man wailed. Jeb had been holding the statue by its head, and the square, flat base fell off and clattered on the tile floors. Ginny very clearly heard Jeb hiss “Fuck” this time. She’d let him have a few curses. Her prayers had grown more fervent with ever step Bob had taken and now they reached a new peak. Her eyes were streaming and she was kneading her hands together under her bosom without notice.
Regardless of the strength, or lack of, in the statue, Bob still reeled back from the blow and actually raised a hand to the side of his face. Blood was pouring from his head much faster now and Ginny thought she saw jagged bumps of white poking through the red and pink mess. Jeb threw the bust that was still in his hand at the dead man and it bounced off of his considerable waist. Bob stumbled back a couple of steps but didn’t go down. Jeb cursed again and finally took several steps back. Now he cocked back the flagpole, still moving away from the dead man.
When he was far enough away, Jeb let out a wordless yell and ran forward a few steps toward Bob. The flagpole swung around and rang off the side of Bob’s head, sending him spinning toward the ground. The centrifigal force spun Jeb around, too, but he stayed on his feet. Once he stopped spinning, he approached closer to the dead man and raised the pole over his head. It was slightly bent a foot or two from the end where it had connected with the dead man’s skull. Jeb slammed it down on Bob’s body lengthwise, and a spout of blood gurgled out of Bob’s mouth. The man lay as still as death on the floor. Ironic, popped into Ginny’s mind.
Jeb stood over Bob for a half minute or more. The dead man just lay there, like he should. It looked to Ginny like Jeb was thinking about checking for a pulse, he kept half-squatting. He finally must have decided not to. He turned and headed into the stacks.
Twenty-one
November 20
Jeb twirled where he was crouched. The body still looked like it had looked when they brought him in. Or did it? The face looked different. When they had brought the man — Bob, right? — in, he had just looked… calm. Now his lips were snarled back and his eyes were definitely open and staring. The man’s chest was still, though. Just like it had been.
And the dead did NOT come back to life.
“Ginny, what?” He looked back over his shoulder at Virginia. She was still standing with her hands over her mouth. She had only screamed once, but he wasn’t sure she had breathed since. “Ginny, I don’t see nothin’.” Her eyes didn’t shrink back from the wide-eyed stare she was directing at Bob. Jeb turned back around. The body was still the same. Probably just stress and nerves gettin’ to her, after seeing two people get killed in here. He still couldn’t figure how that paramedic had been killed. But he was sure the dead didn’t come back to life. That was just… crazy.
The fingers twitched. Jeb jumped backward from the body, sitting down hard on the floor. “Wha — ?” The hand was still and Jeb crawled forward a few steps. It was still just laying there. Maybe it was that death thing. Rigid Mordus or whatever it was called. Yeah, that’d explain it. That Rigid thing was setting in and makin’ his body twitch and spasm as everything got all hard and immobile. Jeb chuckled a little. “I don’t think we have to worry ’bout nothin’, Ginny. It’s probably just Rigi — “
Bob’s head turned and he stared at the two library workers with wide-open eyes and snarling teeth, sucking air into his mouth quickly, snorting it out of his nose. His far shoulder followed his head and he was on hands and knees in a half-minute or less. His missing ear still dripped blood slowly, several drops spattering the floor with every motion.
“Jesus!” Jeb scrambled to his feet, stepping back and pushing Virginia behind him. “Jesus,” he cried again, hoping for any sort of intervention from anywhere. The man was dead, DEAD, and the dead didn’t come back. It was a one way street. Ginny was sobbing behind him, the shock turning into tears. What the hell did you do against the dead?
The man, still on his hands and knees, started crawling towards them. Jeb backed Virginia up further into the reading area, putting a table and its chairs between them and the… monster. The man’s eyes were almost solid white. Foamy drool fell from his lips and his tongue, which was hanging from the corner of his mouth a bit. He grunted and crawled faster for a few steps.
“You — you just stop, there,” Jeb said, his voice as authoritative as possible. “Just stop there and don’t come any closer.” The man kept coming, Jeb and Ginny kept backing away. “Hey, I said stop,” Jeb said, his voice shaking more and more. The man just smiled in that open-mouthed way and kept coming, now making a low, gutteral sound almost constantly. Ginny was still crying behind Jeb and he couldn’t figure out what to do with her.
The stairs! He’d get her upstairs. It’d be almost impossible for a man as heavy as Bob was to crawl up the stairs. And if he did, just push him off, right? If Ginny’s story was to believed, though, he’d have to be careful not to get bit or nothing. Well, it was worth a try. He started moving Ginny and himself toward the stairs.
There was a small iron staircase in the middle of the stacks that spiraled up to the second and third floors. Ginny squeaked when she backed into it. “Get up them stairs, Ginny,” Jeb said over his shoulder. He spoke kind of quietly to try and keep Bob from hearing, if he could even still hear, what their plan was. She nodded through the tears and started climbing. Her head topped the second landing and she looked back down to see that Jeb wasn’t following her.
“Jeb!” she half-hissed.
“You go’n up there, honey. I’ll be there in a bit. I’m gonna take care of this and then I’ll come on up there. Go’n now.” He looked up at her and smiled. Her face was streaked with tears, the shiny trails showing up even in the dimness of the library stacks. “Go on.” He said it softly this time, smiling and nodding at her. She nodded back and kept climbing.
When she was safely on the second floor, Jeb looked back down at the man crawling toward them. He was at the entrance to the rows of bookshelves, still slobbering and making that grunty growling sound. The stacks were pretty barren of anything but books. A few bookends and stepstools where all Jeb could think of that he might find. He decided to try his luck elsewhere.
Jeb turned and ran back along the row until he came to a crossing row. He turned to the left, trying to get nearer to the front of the library where he’d have more light and probably more weapons. He couldn’t believe he was looking for weapons in a library! He passed a few rows, then a few more, wanting to be sure and come out on a clear aisle, one without a reanimated fat man waiting on him. He heard a coughing sound coming faintly from back in the library. Good, he was in the clear. He turned left again and was back in the reading area in no time.
He quickly scanned the room. Tables, chairs, a few books. A small bust of some writer stood on top of one of the reading tables. An oil lamp, with no oil, on another, and various other objects on the others. There was a glass-fronted cabinet near the front that held different objects each month. This month was a collection of stuffed toys, mostly teddy bears. That wouldn’t do much good. But what would?
A brass flagpole stood near the front doors, the state and country flags hanging limply from it. The pole would work, but he didn’t know if he could get it off the heavy base. “Shit,” he said, quietly. He ran to the front, deciding to try the flagpole first.
It wasn’t a giant flagpole, standing only ten or twelve feet tall at the brass eagle. The base was short and flat, but weighted down to keep kids from tipping it over easily. It probably weighted forty or fifty pounds on its own, the pole adding another ten or fifteen. All together, way too heavy to use easily. Jeb tipped the pole forward into the library and kicked at the base. He had put it together just a few years ago and he remembered that it wasn’t all one piece. The bottom snapped on and secured with some heavy-duty glue. Maybe he could break it off.
A few kicks and he could feel it starting to give. He picked the pole and base up and slammed it onto the tile floor at an angle. A mightly clang rang out into the echoey library, but the base stayed affixed. He tried again and could hear the fat corpse hobbling through the aisles of books. He wouldn’t have long. He slammed it down again and heard a crack. One of the tiles had snapped in two, but the base was starting to come off. A fourth try and it was visibly coming apart. He kicked a few more times and the pole came free of its weighted base. The flags were attached with carabiner-like hooks, so a couple of seconds later they were disconnected and laying over the circulation desk.
Jeb turned back into the library proper, led by the brass eagle. Bob was just coming out of the bookshelves, now crouched over and standing on two feet. He seemed to be getting stronger, but Jeb wasn’t sure. What could anyone be sure of when the dead started walking? Bob stood more erect for a moment, sucking in air, then turned until he was facing Jeb. He grunted again and started walking, a slow shamble.
The reading area was between the two men, a couple of tables and their chairs directly in the way. Jeb moved forward, putting one of the tables almost directly against his stomach. He’d try to keep one of those between him and this monster if he could. Any extra protection was very welcome. Bob kept sniffing and adjusting his course, staying almost directly in line with Jeb. He bumped into the far table and bounced off, startled. He growled and reached his hands down to grab at the table.
The first thing he noticed was that the rain was gone. No cold, hard drops fell from the sky. He also noticed the wind wasn’t whipping him around. It was a lot warmer here. The strength had returned, but it wasn’t whole yet. He’d just lay here a bit longer, waiting for the final wave to come in.
The place he was in now seemed a lot better, but he couldn’t be sure. His senses all seemed dulled and muted. His tongue was thick in his mouth, seeming to fill up all the available room. He couldn’t taste his saliva or teeth. Hell, his tongue didn’t even seem to move. He could feel that the floor below him was hard and dry, but that was about it. It seemed cold, but he couldn’t be sure; hot and cold were becoming distant memories. An intermittent buzzing came to his ears, far away and tinny. If he concentrated he could hear more, almost make out individual sounds. Sounded like someone talking, but he couldn’t be sure. He had a feeling this would change when the final waves came through. He hoped it would. He wasn’t comfortable being blind to everything.
Blind! Eyes! He gathered all the strength that had returned to him and tried to pry open his eyelids. One came open and he seemed to be looking through vaseline-covered glass. No details were evident. Smears of greys and a few scattered colors were all that made their way onto his retina. A few seconds later the other lid followed suit, but his perception stayed the same. Or did it? It seemed to be clearing slightly. Yes, he was sure he could make out shapes better now, the light came in more strongly than it had a few seconds ago.
His senses weren’t the only thing coming back. Something seemed to turn over in the lower part of his body. A gnawing started in his stomach, a gnawing that couldn’t be ignored. He needed to eat. Anything, everything. Something. He needed to eat. The pain was almost violent, threatening to consume him whole from the inside if he didn’t satisfy it. His lips peeled back as he tried to suck air over his tongue with lungs that didn’t want to respond; they did, finally, but slowly. He could taste meat on the air.
His left hand, sprawled at the end of his arm, clenched into a fist, then relaxed into a claw.
Nineteen
November 19
The explosive sound of “click” filled the car. Seth looked at the gun, a large black piece of weaponry with a sight mounted on the top and flashlight attached near the end of the barrel. “What the hell?”
“Shoot him! Shoot — What’s wrong?” Ruth was bouncing in her seat. She had stopped looking for the keys when Seth had slammed the gun onto the dashboard. She whiped the hair from her face with the backs of her hands and leaned forward toward the gun. “Why didn’t it fire?”
“I don’t know!” Seth could feel his face turning red, both from embarrasment and anger. He looked around the trigger for a safety latch. His eyes settled on a small metal pin next to the ejection slot. “Gotta cock the fucker,” he said quietly. He pulled the pin back and it clicked into place. “Hold your ears!”
Thunder erupted from the barrel of the gun, a solid metal slug leaving the tube and breaking through the windshield of the cruiser. The outer shell crumpled, but the harder metal sleg continued on, hitting the creature on the hood in his shoulder, just to the side of his neck. The undead thing screeched and grabbed at the new wound, sliding down the hood, his feet pulling him back to the ground.
“Aha!” Ruth yelped with joy and held the jingling keychain in the air. “Found the fuckers.” She jammed the key into the ignition and wrenched it forward, the engine roaring to life. She pulled the gear arm down to D and slammed her foot down on the gas pedal. The former cop was wobbling in front of the grill and she barreled over him, turning quickly to avoid running the car into the brick wall of the building making up the far wall of the alley.
Once the car was safely back on the pavement, Ruth and Seth both looked back over their shoulders to see what had happened to the dead cop. He was still laying on the sidewalk, the car mostly just knocking him down. One tire seemed to have caught his left knee. The leg lay strangly flat on the sidewalk concrete. Ruth laughed and hit the gas again, doing a donut in the middle of street. She backed the car up several yards and eased it back onto the sidewalk. She stomped on the gas and ran straight for the downed cop. A sickening crunch came through the engine’s rumbling as both sets of tires on the driver’s side crushed his skull.
“Think that got ‘im?” She was all smiles and giggles. She stopped the creeping car and turned around in her seat to see what destruction she had caused. The cop’s body way lying on the sidewalk like before, but with a very distinct tire-wide depression down the middle. His head was flatter than normal, red blood that was quickly turning black, spreading out around it. The gory sight calmed her enthusiasm.
“Yeah, I think you did,” Seth said, somewhat quietly. “Good job.” He didn’t know where to look. He had looked back at the body when she had. He kind of wished he hadn’t. If this… disease… was affecting police and paramedics and everyday people…. What the hell was going on? He shuddered involuntarily and tried to push the thought from his mind. “I guess we should get going. It won’t take us long to get to the hospital from here. And if we encounter any others, I guess we know how to take care of ‘em.” He picked the shotgun up off his lap a little and Ruth nodded. He chuckled. “Heh. I guess we don’t even need the gun with your driving.” She smiled over at him and nodded.
“Alright, let’s get going.” She put the car back into gear and started driving down the street toward Eden Medical Center. The car crept along, neither of them wanting to hurry into a worse situation.
Motion City Soundtrack
November 18
Look at this! An MP3 actually gets uploaded for you to check out! OMG! Yep, and this is probably one that you’ve heard, if you have music tastes like mine. I’ve been listening to them while I write my NaNo, so I thought I’d share.
They’re not the most amazing band I’ve ever heard, but they have some fun quirks and the lyrics are fun. And, like I said, they’re helping me write, so that’s always the best aspect. Anyway, enough blabbering. Motion City Soundtrack is the band. These are the songs:
Eighteen
November 16
Seth’s tennis shoes gripped the slippery, trash-littered floor of the alleyway and pushed him forward down the narrow track. The creature was moving incredibly fast, lightspeed compared to him, he felt. It seemed to be gaining on him, two steps to his one. He glanced over his shoulder to see how close the monster was and saw it reaching out both hands to grab him with. He saw the hands, the snarling mouth, the empty sockets. He didn’t see the bags of trash in front of him, though, and sprawled out on the floor of the alleyway a few moments later.
Seth screamed and pulled an arm over his face, not wanting to see the end coming to him. He could hear the thing’s footsteps growing close at great bounds. The creature growled and slowed. His smell must be partially blocked by the garbage. Seth pulled his arm away from his face in time to see the thing slow to a stop and stand, sniffing the air. It stood shrouded by the shadows of the alley, hands out and feeling, nose twitching. He wasn’t sure why, but Seth felt that the speed it had moved seemed… wrong.
He had to think about that later, though. He remembered the gun in his hand. The pistol’s safety was on and he thumbed the switch as quietly as he could. The tiny click wasn’t enough to arouse the hearing of the undead creature standing not five yards from Seth’s sneakered foot. It took a step forward, then another, wobbly now that it had used up the energy it got from feeding. The sniffing continued, now lower as the thing bent over to sniff the ground. It fell forward onto its knees and started crawling along the ground like a dog, snuffling the wet pavement.
Seth backed himself up into a sitting position, still in the pile of garbage bags. The creature heard his rustling and looked up, sniffing the air in front of it again. Seth pulled his feet towards him, not caring if it made noise. He didn’t want to be found by this… creature. Seth raised the pistol and propped his arm on his knees. The thing’s head was just about even with the end of his gun. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.
The shot went wild. He had pulled his hand back when he fired and the bullet had flown over the creature’s shoulder. Its head had jerked around to follow the sound of the bullet, but turned back now, pointed intently at Seth. He could almost see a smile on its slackjawed face. The creature rose up into a crouch again, tensing its legs for a jump. Seth heard a car door slam behind him and feet running. Good, Ruth must be running away. He didn’t want thing to get her too. He closed his eyes again, confident in his death.
The creature was sniffing again, trying to find where he was more concretely, like a cat bobbing its head to locate its prey. Seth could still hear footsteps, running. They should be getting quieter. Unless –
Seth opened his eyes in time to see Ruth run past him. She had the tire iron in her hand, arm held down to her side and a bit behind her. “Fuck you!” she screamed as the metal bar connected with the chin and jaw of the creature, knocking it off its feet and down the alley a bit. Seth saw blood splatter into the air. Ruth slowed and stopped running next to the thing’s head. “Go,” she hit it with the iron, caving in part of its face. “To,” another hit, this time to the top of its head, the skull cracking and splintering. “Hell!” a final blow that caved in the chin and teeth, those that were left from the first hit. Ruth stood, bent over, panting. Seth got to his feet.
“Wow,” he said, walking up behind her. “That was…. Wow. Fuck.” He stood beside her, looking down at the thing. “I thought I was done for. Thanks. Thanks a lot. Uh, wow.” Seth looked down at the creature, checking its whole body for any movement. One of its feet twitched, and a finger wriggled, but it was still over than that. “I think you took care of it,” he said admiringly. “Jesus. Thanks. Wow. I thought I was dead. I — ” He was silenced by a tight hug from her.
“I — I don’t want you to thank me. I just — I just did what I had to do. You saved me earlier. You saved all of us. So — I had to help you. So, thank you,” she said, giving him a little kiss on the lips. They both looked at each other, the moment awkward from the kiss and the dead living dead thing on the ground beside them. They both “uhm”‘d and “ah”‘d for a few moments, trying to decide what to do next.
Ruth looked at the creature, then back down the alley toward the turn. “What did you see down there? I mean…. Are there any more we should worry about?” She was still scared, despite the bravery that had come out when she saw him threatened by the creature.
“No, no, I don’t think so,” he said. “This gu — THING – was…. Well, it was down the alley eating something. It heard me and came after me. I don’t think whatever it was… eating… would be able to come back, or whatever they’re doing. It looked pretty far gone.” He was worried now. What rules did he know for this? Nothing could prepare you for humans come back from the dead trying to eat you. Fuck all he knew about anything, it was no use. He scratched his head. “I really don’t know, though.”
“Well,” she paused, psyching her self up. “Let’s go look.” She turned to walk down they alley. He still hadn’t followed when she reached the corner, so she stopped and called to him. “Hey. Come on.” Seth came back to here and now and joined her at the corner. The light had brightened a bit, the clouds burned away by the sun, and they could make out the shape of the dead police officer very clearly. “Oh,” she said, taken aback by the gruesomeness.
“Yeah,” he said, “It’s pretty bad. That’s why I’m pretty sure he can’t come after us. I mean, he’s pretty far gone. I think they have to be more whole than that. I’m just amazed at how fast that other one could move. I — I don’t know why, but I don’t think of them as fast-moving or anything.” He scratched his head again. He didn’t feel like he could explain himself very well to her.
She chuckled. “I know what you mean. That… thing… took me completely by surprise when I saw him — it — chasing you down the alley. But, yeah, I don’t know why it did. I don’t have any experience with these things!” She looked down the alley again. “I think we should check him out, Seth. Make sure he’s completely gone and all. Maybe he’s got the shotgun from the car.” She started walking down the alley, which was littered with wooden crates from the furniture store it was behind. Seth followed after a few seconds.
The cop’s body was as ragged and torn as it had looked from the other end of the alley. Most of his stomach was gone and his head sat oddly flat on the floor. He was holding the creature’s eyes in his hands. He must have torn them out in the struggle. His name badge read “Gumbowsky” under the blood. His pants were ripped, too. The creature must have really worked him over. “Unless there’s another one,” Seth said. Ruth’s eyes went wide and she looked around slowly. She hefted the tire iron in hands and took a deep breath. “I don’t think there is,” he added, calming himself as much as her.
They stopped looking at the cop and started checking the ground around him. They didn’t find much other than trash and scraps of fabric from the store. An abandoned cushion had blood and bile on it. Maybe a sick homeless person? Seth didn’t want to know. Thrown against the store-side wall was the police shotgun. The clip had been emptied. “Did you see any shells in the car?” Seth asked after Ruth found the gun and showed it to him.
“No, but I didn’t really look. Probably in the trunk or something. Even if it’s not, it makes a better club than this,” she hefted the tire iron again, the lower six inches of it bloody.
He chuckled. “Definitely.” They walked back to the corner of the alley. Seth started down toward the car, but Ruth grabbed his shoulder. “Huh?”
“Look, down there,” she pointed at where the body was. Or rather, where the body had been. “Shit,” she hissed in his ear. Her eyes darted back and forth around the alleyway, looking for anything moving. “I don’t see anything.”
Seth started scanning the alley as soon as she had grabbed him. He didn’t see anything either, but he was worried. That thing had been on it him a matter of seconds and he didn’t want to go through that again. He pulled the gun out of his pocket again and flicked off the safety. He’d be ready this time.
They started down the alley again, Ruth a step behind Seth. She carried the shotgun in both hands, over her shoulder like a baseball bat. The tire iron was sticking out of her back pocket. They went slowly, expecting an undead ambush at any moment, but nothing moved. Not even a cat, this time. Seth sighed when they reached the relative daylight by the car. “OK, looks like it went away, wherever it went.” He sat on the front bumper of the police cruiser, exhausted from the attack.
“Yeah,” Ruth replied. “Well, get in, I’ll drive us down there. No reason to walk all the way now.” She walked around to the driver’s side door. “Wait, lemme check the back seat,” she called. They both checked, Seth having come around to the passenger’s door, then chuckled. “I hate when people don’t check stuff like that in a horror movie,” she said. She jingled the keys that she had taken out of the ignition while he was down in the alley. “I’m gonna check the trunk for shells, while I’m at it. You get in and sit down,” she went around to the back of the car and popped the heavy trunk lid.
Spare tire, bright orange rain slickers with black shields on them, road flares, cones, and tucked in a corner of the trunk, a box of shells. Fifty of them, according to the label. Looked like some had been taken out. The gun held several, so she guessed thirty or forty in the box still. She tucked it under her arm and closed the trunk.
Ruth popped open the driver’s door and sat down, shotgun and shells in her lap. “You have any idea how to reload this thing? I found shells.” She looked over at Seth who was staring straight ahead. She turned to look, but didn’t have to. Something large and bloody slammed into the hood of the car and started crawling up the metal front, fingers scratching up paint as it came. “Fuck!” they both yelled and Ruth slammed her door shut, tossing the box of shells and the shotgun into Seth’s lap.
She jammed her hand down into her pocket to grab the keys and couldn’t find them. The pocket was small, so they couldn’t be hiding. “Start the car!” Seth yelled. She patted herself down and started looking around her seat. “Start the car! Start the car! Start the fucking car!” His voice was panicked.
“I can’t find the keys!” she yelled back. The creature on the hood was still crawling toward them, moving slowly and dragging its legs instead of kicking and pushing with them. Its now-mostly-toothless mouth opened and closed haphazardly, the tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth. “I can’t find them!”
“Fuck,” Seth yelled again, then started loading the shotgun in his lap. Or trying to, at least. He fumbled with the large plastic clip that attached to the bottom until he found the release. It plunked into his lap and he reached a hand into the box of shells. “How many?” he asked, fishing them out one at a time. He loaded in two, three, four, then paused, looking at Ruth.
“I don’t know! Seven? How many will fit?”
He kept popping shells into the cartridge until he couldn’t fit in any more. “Seven. Good guess,” he smiled at her and set the box down between his feet. “Hold your ears,” he said. She slammed her hands against her head hard enough to stab her earrings into the soft flesh behind her ears. He pumped the shotgun, heard a shell click home. “Die, fucker,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. He sat the shotgun on the dash of the car and pulled the trigger.