7
“I
really need to get going before it gets dark,” I said.
She
nodded and went to the window. “Are you sure you’re ready?” she asked.
“As
ready as I’ll ever be.”
Mary
slipped a CD into the radio and slowly extended it along the clothes line,
threading the set of battery jumpers along as she went. The sound of music
widened as the radio slipped out, high above the parched and vacant faces that
looked skyward and clawed as if to reach for the notes. There was gravity in
the milky calm of their eyes - a look that seemed to breathe the answer to
questions that have plagued us for ages. In that moment, staring down at the
dead, I saw in them the same expression I had seen when they were alive. I saw
thoughtlessness. I saw confusion. I saw the questioning eyes of the multitudes,
drawn and feeble, hollow and raged. I saw only empty, vacant eyes.
I
tried to hold the idea as Mary turned to me and told me she was ready. “I’ll
watch for you,” she said.
“Give
me an hour,” I told her.
“Then
I will watch for you in an hour,” she said with a quick nod.
Quickly,
we filed along the stairs to the entry. With a dry click, she had the door
opened and the sun was exposed through the alcove at the front of the building,
shaded slightly from the overhang. The sweet smell of rot, rancid beneath its
core, wafted up and tried my courage.
I
peered around the corner and saw the streets were empty.
“I’ll
play the music again in an hour,” she whispered, “and unlock the door for you.”
I
nodded and gazed into her eyes, catching the reflection of the sun as her pupil
dilated, constricting into a tiny dot. I reached for her and grazed her arm as
I turned and breezed away past the bushes and the tree that graced the front
yard.
The
pistol was at my side, neatly tucked into the waistband of my pants. My
movements sent the sight into my skin and I adjusted the weapon farther forward
and took to a sprint. I could hear the distant moaning like a rumbling in my
chest. The knotting sounds shook the ground beneath me and I imagined the earth
crumbling beneath my feet. The farther I went, the sounds would not subside.
The deep, mouthing incoherence of the dead stayed with me and reminded me of
what I needed to do. Dead voices shrouded in soft music.
I
slipped past a brick building at the corner of the street and peeked around the
edge as a rasp came from over my shoulder. The corpse was on me before I could
react. The blackness of its open maw swallowed the light and only bent, jagged
teeth remained. I ducked and countered, coming up behind the creature. I pushed
the thing forward and it stumbled. I withdrew the pistol from my side and
aimed, but I thought better of firing. The sound of the shot would only bring
more. I moved to the side as the corpse staggered forward and I clasped it
behind the neck, pushing it to the ground. A wheeze escaped as bloated air
knocked out from its chest. Like rancid sewage, the breath met my nose and I turned
in disgust as I held firm. I grabbed it beneath its chin and twisted. As I
struggled, every snap of its spine coiled and I could feel its neck breaking
all along my arms. Every crack, every pop ascended through me and finally, the
thing went still. It lay slack on the sidewalk and my hands were covered in its
waste. I wiped away the slick and nervously checked my surroundings.
There
had only been one, a single straggler, fixated on the moans, making its way to
the source. As often as I have been among them, what drove them still eluded
me. At times, the sounds of others drew them. At other times, it was as if they
were deaf to the calls. I hated their unpredictability. They were chaotic
things.
I
calmed myself and took to the next street. According to what I remembered of
the map, I was only a block away from the market and the path ahead of me was
clear.
I
narrowed the gap and saw the building in the distance. Full length windows
stretched across the front of
“I
really need to get going before it gets dark,” I said.
She
nodded and went to the window. “Are you sure you’re ready?” she asked.
“As
ready as I’ll ever be.”
Mary
slipped a CD into the radio and slowly extended it along the clothes line,
threading the set of battery jumpers along as she went. The sound of music
widened as the radio slipped out, high above the parched and vacant faces that
looked skyward and clawed as if to reach for the notes. There was gravity in
the milky calm of their eyes - a look that seemed to breathe the answer to
questions that have plagued us for ages. In that moment, staring down at the
dead, I saw in them the same expression I had seen when they were alive. I saw
thoughtlessness. I saw confusion. I saw the questioning eyes of the multitudes,
drawn and feeble, hollow and raged. I saw only empty, vacant eyes.
I
tried to hold the idea as Mary turned to me and told me she was ready. “I’ll
watch for you,” she said.
“Give
me an hour,” I told her.
“Then
I will watch for you in an hour,” she said with a quick nod.
Quickly,
we filed along the stairs to the entry. With a dry click, she had the door
opened and the sun was exposed through the alcove at the front of the building,
shaded slightly from the overhang. The sweet smell of rot, rancid beneath its
core, wafted up and tried my courage.
I
peered around the corner and saw the streets were empty.
“I’ll
play the music again in an hour,” she whispered, “and unlock the door for you.”
I
nodded and gazed into her eyes, catching the reflection of the sun as her pupil
dilated, constricting into a tiny dot. I reached for her and grazed her arm as
I turned and breezed away past the bushes and the tree that graced the front
yard.
The
pistol was at my side, neatly tucked into the waistband of my pants. My
movements sent the sight into my skin and I adjusted the weapon farther forward
and took to a sprint. I could hear the distant moaning like a rumbling in my
chest. The knotting sounds shook the ground beneath me and I imagined the earth
crumbling beneath my feet. The farther I went, the sounds would not subside.
The deep, mouthing incoherence of the dead stayed with me and reminded me of
what I needed to do. Dead voices shrouded in soft music.
I
slipped past a brick building at the corner of the street and peeked around the
edge as a rasp came from over my shoulder. The corpse was on me before I could
react. The blackness of its open maw swallowed the light and only bent, jagged
teeth remained. I ducked and countered, coming up behind the creature. I pushed
the thing forward and it stumbled. I withdrew the pistol from my side and
aimed, but I thought better of firing. The sound of the shot would only bring
more. I moved to the side as the corpse staggered forward and I clasped it
behind the neck, pushing it to the ground. A wheeze escaped as bloated air
knocked out from its chest. Like rancid sewage, the breath met my nose and I turned
in disgust as I held firm. I grabbed it beneath its chin and twisted. As I
struggled, every snap of its spine coiled and I could feel its neck breaking
all along my arms. Every crack, every pop ascended through me and finally, the
thing went still. It lay slack on the sidewalk and my hands were covered in its
waste. I wiped away the slick and nervously checked my surroundings.
There
had only been one, a single straggler, fixated on the moans, making its way to
the source. As often as I have been among them, what drove them still eluded
me. At times, the sounds of others drew them. At other times, it was as if they
were deaf to the calls. I hated their unpredictability. They were chaotic
things.
I
calmed myself and took to the next street. According to what I remembered of
the map, I was only a block away from the market and the path ahead of me was
clear.
I
narrowed the gap and saw the building in the distance. Full length windows
stretched across the front of
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