Stay Dead: A Novel (17 page)

There was a brief moment of silence and some
shuffling from behind the door. It opened further and a scruffy,
squinty-eyed fellow peeked past the door. His eyes grew as wide as
a pair of full moons at midnight and his brow furrowed when he
realized that they in fact weren’t zombies. He stumbled backward
and pulled the door with him as Davis and the others charged in.
The man scratched at his wild beard with grimy fingers, clearly
speechless.

He eventually found a few. “You sure ain’t zombies,”
he muttered. His eyes grew wide once again. “Are you
cannibals?”

Frankie was flabbergasted. “Are you fucking crazy,
man, seriously? You think we want to eat you?”

“
Never know. That’s what they
always end up doing in the movies.” He trailed off as he stared
into the sea of faces that stared back at him.

“
This ain’t the movies, and this
isn’t some voodoo bullshit!” Frankie barked. “Those dead things are
gonna be trying to get in here any minute…is there another way out
of here?”

“
Slow down, Frank,” Davis said.
“We’re not leaving till we can turn the power back on.” He turned
toward the odd bird whose nest they had disturbed. “You must work
here. Can you put the town’s power back on…uh, what’s your
name?”

The old man laughed. “Oh! Sure! Let me push my magic
button then we can all trot on out of here on the yellow brick road
too, while we’re at it.”

“
You don’t have to be an asshole,”
hollered Angus.

“
Easy Grandpa,” the man yelled
back. “I’ve been in here a long time with nothing but the company
of the dead and a stomach full of vending machine garbage. I’ve
also been sleeping against the door for the however the fuck long
I’ve been in here. And now you clowns think I can just wave a magic
wand and make all the lights in town work?”

“
Okay, can we all just calm down
for a minute,” Jon-Jon chimed in. “Sir, my name is Jon, most people
call me Jon-Jon. What’s yours?”

“
Topher,” the man said after a
long pause.

“
It’s good to meet you, Topher.
Now, would you be willing to help us get the power up and get the
hell out of here?” Jon-Jon asked.

Topher had a sour look on his face but nodded. “Sure
thing. But before I can be of any help I need to know why the power
is out. Something had to cause it and we need to find out
what.”

The others looked at each other as if this was the
first time they considered that something specific (more specific
than dead people getting up and attacking the living) had to cause
the power outage.

“
Like what?” Davis
asked.

“
Could be anything. Maybe a downed
line, or a squirrel could’ve gotten into a transformer and shorted
it out. A car accident, fire, you get the idea.”

“
Any suggestions on how we can
find that out?” Angus stepped in.

“
I got a few.”

“
Guess that means we need to get
the hell out of here,” Jon-Jon said.

“
Guess so,” Topher
replied.

“
Unless those things find
something else to chase after, we’re going to have to fight our way
out,” Davis said.

“
Not necessarily.” Topher paused
once he realized he had everyone’s attention. “So long as we’re as
quiet as can be, sometimes the noises the machines make get their
attention.”

“
Then what, they just leave us
alone?” Angus asked.

“
Yep. For a little bit. They
always come back, though—it’s like they know I’m in here.” Topher
said.

They sat quietly for a good long time. Longer than
any one of them could bare. Jon-Jon was ready to open the door and
take his chances fighting them off, as was Davis and Frankie. Angus
was as calm as a cucumber. Topher looked like he wanted to talk,
but obviously couldn’t. Keith looked around the room, hoping to
find some sort of alcohol, but knew there wouldn’t be any. And
Jones began to tap his fingers, perhaps the most restless of them
all, though in no hurry to lead the charge out of the room.

More time had passed, and the restlessness reached a
boil. The dead things just outside the door did not relent for a
moment. The noises inside the building were not enough to throw
them off. Topher admitted that that it had never happened before.
And he assumed it had something to do with how many people were in
the room now, as opposed to just himself.

There was no other way out. No vent to crawl out or
a window to squeeze through. There was only the door they had come
in through—one way in, one way out. Keith, Jones, and Frankie stood
ready with their shotguns. Davis directed them to stand to the side
of the door, keeping as much distance from each other as possible.
He had Frankie stand behind the others, as a back-up shooter, and
Keith knelt down on one knee—he’d hit them low, while Jones hit
them high.

Jon-Jon stood near Frankie, shaking with adrenaline
and fear. His palms were sweaty and he moved his handgun from one
hand to the other. Davis had lent Angus a service weapon and he
clutched it clumsily while aiming it at the floor. His hands were
shaking badly from the arthritis, and beads of sweat rolled down
the side of his face.

Topher gripped his pipe and shuffled around in a
semicircle. Davis held onto the doorknob with his left hand, his
handgun in his right. He pulled the door open and backed away in
one fluid motion, bringing the handgun into the firing position
immediately.

The dead things practically fell into the room,
having been pressed against the door. And the ones in front were
pushed forward by the numbers behind them. Keith fired when Davis
was out of the way and nearly cut the first few in half. The noise
exploded in the room, putting cotton in everyone’s ears. Jones took
off one of the creatures heads, sending gray matter spattering
along the door jamb and walls.

As the first few dead things fell to the ground,
others staggered forward. They were clumsy and stumbling over the
bodies of their fallen brethren but were still faster than they had
any right to be. Keith pumped his weapon and fired away, blowing
out the leg of the next deader, obliterating its knee entirely.
Davis took a kneeling position as well, and began to take
well-aimed shots at the creatures heads. One more deader dropped,
then another, forming a small pile at the foot of the door. The
others stood behind the three men on the frontlines in amazement.
They were ready for action, but glad that the others were making
headway.

There were still a good number of deaders just
outside the door: too close to move outside, but too far to make
anymore surefire shots. Davis readjusted his position to the other
side of the door, nervously footing around the dead limbs strewn
about the doorway. He stepped on a dead hand, crunching the
fingers, and immediately jumped off. It was the only time anyone
had seen him even remotely nervous.

The dead things outside lurched closer to the door.
Davis raised his weapon and fired several shots, emptying his
weapon. He stepped back, ejecting the cartridge from his handgun
and pulling another from his belt. Keith stumbled up off of his
knee and stepped toward the pile of bodies. He stepped uneasily on
top of them, making his way out of the room. His foot slipped in
the gore and he fumbled forward loosing his grip on his weapon;
they both fell forward out the doorway.

The others in the room gasped and raced forward.
Jones in the lead ran over top of the bodies, nearly stumbling
himself. He raised his weapon toward the nearest fiend and fired,
taking off most of its shoulder and bits of its neck. The creature
continued to move forward, unmoved by the force of the shot. Davis
was right behind him, and took aim at the dead thing’s head. He
fired twice and the creature slumped to the ground like a heavy
sack of laundry. Keith stumbled to his feet, half covered in gore
and looking frantically for his weapon. Jones took aim at another
dead thing as the others tiptoed out of the room over the bodies of
the fallen dead.

Angus tripped over a dead man’s hand and Topher
tried to grab him but was of no help. Angus fell backward toward
one of the dead creatures. Jon-Jon fired at the creature and it
went down but kept moving. Angus fought hard to get up but he was
old and couldn’t move very quickly. The dead thing grabbed Angus’
arm as he tried to push himself upward. He pulled but the dead
man’s grip was firm. Due to the angle, no one could get a clear
shot at the creature. Angus raised his own weapon and fired at the
creature’s head, but the gun didn’t fire. “Shit!” Angus thought.
The dead thing pulled itself close enough to bite and took a chunk
out of Angus’ arm. He screamed a high-pitched shriek as the dead
things crooked, yellowed teeth tore a chunk of his skin out. Davis
rushed over to him, shooting the creature in the face repeatedly,
the dead man’s face splattered all over Angus’s face and the
floor.

Davis helped pull Angus to his feet. He was as white
as a ghost, and with good reason. He clutched at his arm and handed
Davis the gun he had lent him.

“
Here’s your fucking gun,” he said
grimly.

Davis took the weapon and looked it over quickly.
“You left the safety on,” he said defeated, upset knowing the man
was as good as dead.

“
Figures,” Angus replied
bitterly.

Keith and Jones made quick work of the last few
deaders. The small area was thick with gun smoke, cordite and rot.
It followed them as they made their way back out of the building.
Once they reached the loading dock Topher began searching through
the receiving desk. After a brief moment he found a ring of keys
and held them up triumphantly.

“
What’s that?” Davis
asked.

“
Keys to one of the repair trucks,
I hope.”

Davis nodded. With all the gunplay he’d nearly
forgotten what he had set out to do. He had only wanted to get out
of the building and stop the ringing in his ears.

Frankie led them out of the building. He was
startled by the darkening evening sky and cool breeze. They’d been
in that room most of the day, leaving them tired, hungry, and
feeling like they had just been robbed.

Topher tried the keys in several of the repair
trucks before one of them roared to life. He laughed with
excitement and slapped the steering wheel hard. Davis smiled.

***

They followed Topher around the outskirts of town,
looking for what could be the cause of the power outage. They drove
slowly down the desolate streets. It was getting dark and they
didn’t want to pass by whatever it was that was preventing New
Haven from having electricity. As they drove past a deer carcass
lying by the side of the road Topher expected it to get back up and
try to eat him. Fortunately it didn’t.

By luck, or the grace of God they came across a
telephone pole. It leaned slightly toward the opposite side of the
road on a splintered base. Half in the road and wrapped around the
base of the pole was a midsize sedan. Its windshield looked like a
massive glass spiderweb. Tiny bits of cubed glass sprinkled the
hood and pavement. Inside the sedan something moved.

Topher pulled close to the pole, looking for a
downed wire but saw none. The impact could have knocked it loose or
blown a fuse in the power line. The only way he could be certain
was to go to the top and find out. The pole looked like it would
stay up long enough for him to check. If they ever got around to
it, and wanted to keep the power on, it would need to be repaired.
Topher nervously, got out of the truck with Davis and the others
close behind him. They slowly approached the car.

Standing at the driver’s side door of the sedan,
Bruce Davis looked in. It was a sorry sight for sure but Davis just
looked at the dead thing in disgust.

“
Look at this thing,” he said,
almost to himself.

“
How long has he been like that,”
Jon-Jon asked.

“
Power’s been out for days, Five I
think…” Davis said. “But that’s not the sad part. Here this thing
is, this dead fucker, and he can’t get himself out of his seatbelt.
And yet he and his kind are killing off the world as we know
it.”

“
Doesn’t make any damn sense,”
Jones said from behind Davis.

“
No, it don’t,” Angus said, still
clutching his throbbing arm.

The creature writhed in its seat, the seatbelt held
him firmly in place. The blood-caked steering wheel was close to
his chest, probably the reason the man died. His legs looked
cramped, his face swollen and his teeth lay scattered on top of his
body and seat. Thick syrupy blood decorated the interior. The
thing’s hands reached crookedly out of the window, grasping at the
air in hopes of snagging a morsel of flesh from Davis or one of the
others. Davis raised his weapon and fired, illuminating the night
with gunfire.

“
We’d better move quickly,” Jones
said. “If there’re any more of these things around they’ll have
heard the shot and come looking for dinner.” He was eager to be
done.

“
I’ll need one of you to operate
the crane for me so I can get to the top and have a look at the
transformer,” Topher said.

“
Sign me up,” Frankie
volunteered.

Topher showed him everything he needed to do and was
slowly, but surely, making his ascent. He double-checked his tool
belt, making sure he hadn’t left anything in the truck. He hadn’t.
He shone his flashlight to the top of the pole. Most of the
daylight had disappeared and they were left with the blueish-purple
haze of early evening. The light illuminated the pole-mounted
transformer—from Topher’s vantage point it seemed fine. As he
reached the top however he could see burn marks on the
transformer.