The Final Day: Complete Edition Page 7

  I raise the pistol again. A couple good shots and I should be able to scatter them enough so Kari and the kids can get out of there. I sight in, take a deep breath and squeeze the trigger.

  Nothing.

  I squeeze the trigger again with the same results. The pistol must be jammed. I eject the clip and slam it back in, aim and... still nothing.

  "Fuck!"

  I look ahead at twenty sets of ravenous eyes trained on me. Maybe now they intend to feed, maybe not. Either way, they are coming toward me. And now, they are the wall that is keeping me from my family.

  But, Michael, I think we just may have an idea...

  11 PM

  HOUR TEN

  "We have a plan, huh?"

  Just shut up and do it.

  I tuck my pistol into the back of my pants. Air rushes into my lungs as my chest heaves. I lower my shoulder and charge the crowd of walkers. The first impact leaves my feet digging into the ground like a football player pushing the sleds. Three of them topple backward into their buddies, creating a domino effect.

  Kari and the kids are screaming. I have to tone them out quick. The last thing I need right now is any more distractions.

  One by one, I trample through them and over them. A sinister, devious grin spans my face and a slight chuckle escapes my lips as I relish every step. Walkers clumsily fall over one another, moaning and growling as their tattered frames slam hard against the pavement below.

  The panel truck lies not more than fifteen feet away. The only thing between me and that truck are three walkers and one of them just so happens to be that big bastard that bounced me around earlier. I'm not going to give him a chance to get the upper hand this time.

  Revenge is a drink best served cold, Michael.

  Yeah, whatever. I put everything I have into my legs and charge at him. He lowers his stance and readies himself for impact. That's when I make my move. My feet lift off the ground in a sweeping are. In an instant, I am shooting at him like a missile. Both feet slam into his neck and shoulders with a sickening crunch as I dropkick the motherfucker. He flies back-first against the driver's side corner of the hood; his spine snaps on impact. Gravity prevails as he hits the ground and stares at me, unable to move his paralyzed frame.

  "Sorry, my revenges are served with two size twelves up someone's ass."

  Very tactful, Michael.

  With that one out of the way, all I have to contend with are his two buddies and they're coming from both sides. I lunge right and shove the first one over another walker trying to get back on his feet, effectively laying them both out again. The one on the left snarls and drools as he reaches out for me with skeletal-thin hand and wiry fingers, unaware of the big guy paralyzed on the ground in front of him. His feet tangle and he goes down hard, landing forehead to forehead with the other one in a sickening crunch. Without hesitation, I finish both off as I use their heads for a springboard onto the hood of the truck.

  "Michael,” Kari cries out. “Oh my God, I'm so glad your back!"

  Even before I am completely up on top of the truck, she already has her arms around me. I needed this. I can feel the warmth radiating off her body and it is mesmerizing, a stark contrast to the cold, lifeless touch of the walker a little while ago.

  I look over her shoulder at my babies. "Are you guys alright?"

  Lexi and Steven are shaking, but I think I can make out a nod in there somewhere.

  "Good. We need to get out of here quick. Those things won't be down long."

  I look out across the surrounding area. Thanks to the remaining fire light, what would have been undiscernible from the rest of the landscape now shows plain as day. There are hundreds of them out there and like one collective mind, they have all turned in our direction. Within minutes, the entire space around us will be shoulder to shoulder with slavering, carnivorous cadavers.

  The path to the Suburban is still clear, but it won't be for long. The walkers are trying to pick themselves off the ground, some successful but most just falling back to the pavement.

  I turn back to Kari and the kids.

  "Now, I am going to help you down. As soon as your feet touch the pavement, I want you to run to that truck over there. Don't stop for anything until you're inside."

  The kids look at Kari, then me.

  "Lexi, baby, can you do this for Daddy?"

  She nods. "Yes, Daddy."

  "Good. Are you --?"

  "Look out," Kari screams.

  Before the words can even register, a constricting feeling washes over my right leg, followed by sheer pain. I look down at a cadaverous hand wrapped around my ankle. The fucker pulls and, before I can react, I'm airborne; my feet are pulled out from beneath me. My ass hits hard on the corner of the hood, enough that it feels like my tailbone is on fire. A metallic clanking assures me that my Glock is no longer with me, probably dancing across the hood. Not like it matters anyway.

  Not satisfied with just having me off my feet, the walker continues pulling on me. I kick out with my free leg and plant my foot across the side of its face, but it doesn't do any good. The bastard just groans and looks back at me with cloudy eyes and a grin on its face. Well, the grin is probably more from rigor mortis-tinged muscles and rotting flesh, but nevertheless, it pisses me off. I kick him two more times, right in the exact same spot and it does absolutely no good.

  Undeterred, the walker pulls harder. Instantly, I feel the steel beneath my body disappear and I'm falling. My feet hit the ground, but there's no way to balance. The back of my head slams off the bumper. Unbelievable pain shoots through my skull and neck. The impact doesn't knock me out and as the rest of my body slams to the pavement, I wish that it would knock me out cold. Every ounce of air rushes from my lungs, followed by horrific burning and pain.

  Unable to breath, the walker easily pins me to the ground. Snapping jowls lunge for my throat. I thrust my hands up to fend him off. I press my hands against his shoulder joints and push with everything I have, and right now that's not a whole hell of a lot. The walker pushes back and my arms start to give. The strength this thing has is unbelievable.

  "Get off him, you fucking bastard!"

  The walker looks up, slack-jawed. So do I.

  Kari is standing at the edge of the hood, staring down the barrel of the Glock, trained on the walker's head. She tightens her grip and stares, a fierce determination in her eyes. Too bad the gun is jammed.

  "Uh, honey, I don't think it is going to fire. It's --"

  The gunshot rings out like thunder. Chunks of flesh and brain matter wash down on me. Good thing I shut my mouth and eyes. A chill washes over me. Every sensory receptor on my body must have just lit up and kicked into overdrive.

  I open my eyes and see the walker draped across my chest, two-thirds of its head missing. I shove the corpse off of me and look at Kari, now standing over me. The barrel of the Glock is still smoking in her left hand as she reaches to me with her right.

  "Need help up, old man?"

  I grab her hand and heave myself to my feet. Without hesitation, I yank my shirt off and wipe the splattered zombie giblets off my face and neck.

  "You were saying about the gun?"

  I smile. "I stand corrected."

  At that moment, my heart sinks. A cacophony of droning voices floods the air. The collective groan only means one thing: the entire herd of those fuckers know we're here and they know exactly where we are. And unless we move quickly, we won't have a chance in hell of making it out alive.

  "We have to go... quick!"

  Kari and I spin to face the truck in perfect unison. Before I can call out to Steven and Lexi, Steven leaps off the hood of the truck into my arms. One down. Time for the other. I hold out my arms to Lexi. She shakes her head.

  "C'mon, Lex,” I coax her. “You have to do this. It's not that far."

  "Yeah, you sissy! Quit being a baby and get down here!" Of course, Steven has to put his two cents in.

  I get up as close to the truck as I can,
enough that she can't see the ground below. That works, at least well enough to get her to fall into my arms. I'm not going to set her down, either. I turn tail and set my sights on Suburban. Feet pounding pavement, I make for my destination.

  "Let's go. Hurry," I call back over my shoulder.

  The waning fire light makes the oncoming herd look like a bunch of fleas, black bodies dappling the countryside. Too bad that's not what they are. I know what they are and it's much, much worse. A small army of carnivorous, undead beings march steadily toward us. They have only one goal in mind: to feed.

  I steal a glance over my shoulder. Kari and Steven are still behind me, along with the remaining stragglers back by the truck. Kari sees my eyes and looks back herself. She nudges Steven forward.

  Almost there. The Suburban is right ahead.

  And there's a fucking zombie in there, Michael.

  Sure enough, the driver's door is open and there's a fucking walker rummaging, trying to get in. I quickly set Lexi down and rush the fucker.

  "Get out of there you son of a bitch!"

  I slam my hands down on its back, grabbing a fistful of shirt. The walker looks at me and moans, then tries to wriggle free. No way. Not going to happen. I yank back as hard as I can and throw its ass on the ground. Blood boils in me, rage overflowing. I start kicking the walker repeatedly. Every impact of my foot against its body is relished - a sickening, morbid pleasure. Kick after kick, the walker groans.

  Is it even comprehending what I am doing? Does it even feel any pain?

  The debate of its threshold for pain has no bearing on me whatsoever. Either way, this thing is never going to feed again. Nor will it ever turn another living being into one of its brethren. A spontaneous growl escapes my lips as I raise my foot above its head and stomp down. Bones and cartilage crush beneath my foot as the walker's skull collapses, the impact reducing the once human-like shape to a gelatinous, unrecognizable mass of flesh, bone and blackened blood.

  I lift Lexi onto the backseat. I turn back to see Kari and Steven right behind me. Wasting no time, I quickly load Steven and then reach for the driver's door.

  "Uh-uh," Kari steps in. "I've got this. You get in that passenger seat and relax."

  No arguments from me. I'm wiped. I feel cold and drained. My shoulder is on fire and, although I refuse to tell Kari, I'm losing feeling in my arm as well.

  She slips the lever in "drive" and takes off, steadily leaving the oncoming horde behind. Weaving through the sea of wrecked, abandoned cars, I begin to weave in and out of consciousness. I fight my eyes and the urge to sleep. Nothing scares me more than becoming one of them.

  "Nice choice of cars," Kari laughs.

  "Shut up. At least it runs."

  "I'm not complaining," she adds. "Go to sleep, Michael. Get some rest. We'll be home soon."

  My body doesn't even put up a fight. I can feel myself slipping away and becoming one of them is not the only thing that scares me. I can only hope my subconscious mind can keep the nightmares at bay.

  MIDNIGHT

  HOUR ELEVEN

  I wake in a cold sweat. My head is pounding, like someone hit me with a jackhammer. A glance around reveals my living room, with its soft, earthen tones. The soft lighting should be a comfort, but right now it is blinding and painful. When I was younger, there were all night drinking binges that didn't give me hangovers this bad.

  Did I really sleep all the way home?

  "Kari?"

  They must have taken my advice and gone to her sister's. That's the only reasonable thing they could have done. Staying around here is too dangerous. Driving around in a windowless Suburban isn't exactly one of the top ten safest things to do, either.

  I look at the clock and my heart sinks. It's already twelve-thirty. Where the fuck is Dr. Kinnelson? He should have been here by now. Did he forget? I pray he hasn't. Unless he's already been here.

  I reach for my shirt sleeve - once light blue - now bloodstained and dappled with blackened cranial matter. I can't help but laugh as I roll up my sleeve. Before all this started, I would have puked at the sight of even the slightest amount of blood. Now, after wading through countless bodies and bathing myself in their blood, I almost welcome it.

  The sight of my bare arm affirms what I already know. Kinnelson hasn't been here, yet. I haven't missed him, and though that should be comforting, it makes me feel uneasy. I don't know how much time I have left. Is it a couple days? A couple hours? Am I going to even know when it happens? That would be the best-case scenario. If I had a choice, I'd rather just slip away.

  I remember growing up, watching all the old horror movies: Night of the Living Dead, White Zombie and such. Each zombie flick had a different cause. White Zombie was voodoo. Then in Night of the Living Dead they couldn't figure out what it was. What was it in Zombieland? Oh yeah, it was a tainted cheeseburger at a Gas N' Gulp. It was always something different to the point that I used to look forward to every new one that came out. Those movies always had a knack for reeling me in. They always left me wanting more.

  This is way different. This one's real. I think this is it - the end of everything, at least as we know it. Maybe mankind's gotten too big for its britches and this is Mother Nature's way of saying "uh-uh, ain't happening!"

  So many people are dead... or one of them. The entire trip to the hospital, aside from Kari and the kids, I think I counted all of the living people I'd seen on one hand. If this happened everywhere, then this is the end of everything. Not the rise and fall of a country or an empire, but of an entire civilization. That is unless they find a cure in time.

  "Hurry up, Kinnelson."

  I drape my legs over the side of the couch and sit up. Aside from feeling like Ronda Rousey smashed the side of my head in, I feel great. I don't remember feeling better, actually. My whole body feels refreshed, renewed.

  My stomach barks and growls at me something fierce. The hunger hits me like a freight train. I wrack my brain to try to remember when I last ate and I come up empty. Either way, I'm starving.

  I lift myself off the couch and stand straight. My ankles crack as the weight adjusts and my sternum pops. Something doesn't quite feel right. I lift my arms and, despite how well I feel, my arms move sluggishly about, almost stiff.

  I look at the clock again and it still say twelve-thirty. What the hell is going on? The LEDs are shining bright. The damn thing has to be working. I'm hungry, though. It can wait.

  I take a step then slowly begin to inch my way around the coffee table. My legs are stiff, too. I don't understand how I can feel so good yet be so stiff. If I knew any better, it almost seems like I've been sleeping for days, let alone an hour or so.

  I reach the entrance to the kitchen and flip the light on. The room is spotless. I mean, there is not a single thing out of place; there isn't even a single dish or piece of silverware or glass in the sink.

  I can smell the food in the refrigerator. Almost ravenous, I hurry to the stainless steel mass, wrap my fingers around the handle and tug the door open. An assortment of vegetables and cheeses lay on the shelves before me. Normally a treat, this time they are a disappointment. I'm hungry for something a little more "real."

  Real hits me like a ton of bricks when my eyes fall on the bottom shelf. A plate full of leftover hamburgers - half a dozen, at least - just stare up at me.

  "That's what I'm talkin' about."

  I pull the plate out and set it on the counter. No bread, no condiments... just the burgers. I grab one in each hand and devour them. I've never felt more hungry in my life and I don't think anything has tasted this good.

  A fly buzzes my face and I shoo it away. Another buzzes the plate and I shoo it away, too. I quickly scarf down another two burgers in between flies storming me with kamikaze raids. Shadows dart about the kitchen, blotting out the light. The flies are multiplying, and when I turn my head, their origin hits me loud and clear.

  "What the fuck?"

  A bloody hand print trails from the refrigera
tor door to the floor. There are blood splatters all over the cabinet doors and the sink is full of blood.

  Am I dreaming? This kitchen was spotless when I walked in. I know it was. There wasn't a damn thing wrong in here.

  "No, no, no."

  I hold my hand to the print on the refrigerator and I can tell instantly whose print it is.

  "Kari!"

  My whole body is shaking violently as I follow the blood trail through the kitchen toward the hallway. Scratch marks span the linoleum flooring, crossing through the blood trail, still shimmering and fresh.

  "Jesus Christ, this can't be happening. Kari!"

  I cross the threshold from the kitchen into the hallway. My foot plants on the carpet and a wave of Deja vu washes over me. The sickening slosh of blood beneath my feet is just like the park with one major exception: it could be my wife's or my children's.

  The thought makes my heart sink. My face feels hot and I know what's coming next. I slump against the wall. My vision clouds with tears and soon I feel the warm saline rivulets down my face. I press my palms against my face and wipe the tears away. The fear won't subside, but the fear of not knowing is worse.

  I continue down the hallway towards the bedrooms. To the right, Lexi's door doesn't even look touched. I twist the handle and shove the door open. The room is empty and clean, no signs of anything wrong.

  The trail of blood continues down the hall. Steven's door looms on the left. Spattered blood spans the doorframe. One of the trim boards is ripped in half, splintered and bloody. I reach for the doorknob and close my eyes. My heart is sinking and I want to scream.

  I turn the doorknob and inch the door open, peeking through one eye.

  "Steven?"

  I reach across my chest and flip the light switch. I give the door a shove and peer into an empty room. He's not here.

  A liquid gurgle escapes the confines of the last room in the hallway, the master bedroom.