Time of Death Book 2: Asylum (A Zombie Novel) (5 page)

"Well, let's not look a gift horse in the
mouth. Vinny, help me get that ramp up." Jake's face had turned
beet red from exertion and he took a minute to rest.

The two of them struggled to lay the ramp
across to the dock while making as little noise as possible. Meg
and I scanned the vicinity for movement, and found none. Satisfied
that nothing was coming, we made our way to the dock and pulled the
ramp down just as quietly. Still, no foes showed themselves. With a
furtive look back at the boat, we set off down the dock and onto
land.

Vinny and Jake were all business, transformed
instantly from husband and brother to soldiers, and they were
taking no chances. Jake took point, with Meg and I behind him, and
Vinny brought up the rear. Our weapons—The Brain-Biter, The
Penetrator, The Scrambler, and Spike—were raised and ready for
battle. My knees shook, and the palms of my hands were slick with
sweat. I had to keep switching the crowbar between hands to wipe
the perspiration onto my pants.

A noise to our left caused Jake to stop short
and turn in the direction of the sound. Certain it was nothing, he
continued on in a crouch. The grass nearest the dock had been
trampled during our last stay, leaving a patchy-brown, dead area
that would likely never recover.

Further back, though, the grass was overgrown
and came up to our knees, making it easy to hide a crawler. We
moved slowly across the first row of yards and paused with our
backs against a house while Jake poked his head around to survey
the street ahead. When he saw no movement, he beckoned us forward
and we crossed the street at a slow jog.

I was proud of myself, considering the last
time I'd taken a trip like this I tripped and fell over my own
feet. We made it to the house across the street and crept along the
front wall. Jake repeated his check around the corner, but this
time he quickly drew his head back and his grip on the screwdriver
tightened. He took a few deep breaths, seeming to gather himself
for a fight and turned to us, holding one finger in the air. I
prepared myself for battle, and the four of us rushed the
corner.

Lying in the grass was a naked zombie tangled
in a garden hose. There was no doubt it had been there for quite
some time, because the hose seemed to be fused into its flesh. The
once-green tubing was coated in skin that had sloughed off the
corpse, and the length—still constricting its legs—had been pulled
so tight that it actually tore the dead flesh from the knees and
pulled it down to its ankles like rolled down tube socks. The
zombie saw us as we approached and struggled to free itself,
causing the skin to slide down even further.

Meg gagged at the sight, but Jake wasted no
time and rushed forward to plunge the screwdriver into the back of
its skull in one swift arc. I gave the unmoving corpse a wide berth
as we passed, doing my best not to look at it. Like the undead the
day before, the odor of rot was overwhelming, and I took shallow
breaths through my mouth until I felt we'd put enough distance
between us.

Jake turned. "The house is across the street.
I don't see anyone through the windows." He looked between me and
Meg and asked, "You guys doing okay? We can go back still if you
need to."

"We're fine," I replied, looking to Meg for
confirmation, "right?"

She nodded her head in agreement, but I could
see the fear etched into her face and gave her hand a quick
squeeze.

"Okay, then," Jake continued, "I think our
best option is through the garage. I don't see any broken windows
or open doors, but the garage door is up, so I think it's a good
bet the interior door is unlocked."

I agreed. Our door at home didn't even have a
lock. He took another long look at the house and its surroundings,
and readied himself. "Let's move. Stay quiet and stay low. If you
see any zees, keep going. We'll deal with it when we get to the
garage. I don't want to spend any more time in the open than
absolutely necessary."

In less than a minute we were moving up the
driveway. Lying on its side, just outside the garage, was a
ten-speed bicycle. The slight breeze caused the back tire to spin
lazily, and I could see a few remaining droplets of old blood under
the handlebars. If there had been more blood, it would have been
washed away by rain. The droplets continued once we were a few feet
into the two-car garage, and I noticed a rust-colored smear on the
door handle.

Vinny noticed it, too, and motioned to Jake.
"What do you think?" he whispered.

"I think we need to stay frosty."

"Who says that?" I blurted.

"Focus," snapped Jake.

"Sorry, inside voice."

"Em, you and Meg watch our backs. Vin and I
will go in first and clear the immediate area. Keep an eye on the
driveway and make sure nothing sneaks up on our six. Once we
determine it's safe, come in and stay behind us. Make sure you shut
the door right after you enter, and don't make a sound. Vin, on
three. I've got right; you take left."

He counted down on his fingers,
three…two…one, and opened the door with his screwdriver at the
ready. The two disappeared into the darkness and after only a few
seconds Vinny stuck his head out.

"Let's go."

As I closed the door behind us, we were
swallowed in darkness. I heard Meg's shallow breathing beside me,
and could feel my heart pounding against my chest wall so hard that
I thought the others would hear the sound echo in the small space
like a bass drum.

We were in a laundry room. On our right were
the washing machine, dryer, and large sink. Above the appliances
was a row of cabinets. To our left was a large pantry. The bi-fold
doors were slightly open and revealed shelves of pans, Tupperware,
and canned food. Mental note: take the food. We were running
dangerously low. I hoped there was some bottled water in there,
too.

Directly in front of us was a hallway, still
dark, but not as dark as the windowless utility room. Somewhere to
the left was a light source. The boys nodded to each other and
trudged forward. Jake disappeared to the right and Vinny to the
left. Meg and I inched forward to the door's threshold and held our
breaths waiting for something to happen. A hand appeared in the
opening and waved us forward as Jake passed by. I looked both ways
into the hallway; to the right was a dark office. Slivers of light
coming through the hurricane shutters made patterns across the
carpet, and I saw little dust particles floating in the air when it
passed through the light.

To our left, the hallway opened into the
great room. The kitchen, dining area, and family room were
deserted. The only indication anyone had been there was a smudge of
old blood on the corner of the kitchen counter.

The acrid stench of decay permeated the
stagnant air, immediately raising my hackles and putting me on the
defensive. I knew the others smelled it, too, because their
postures were tense and their eyes darted around the interior
searching for threats.

The house was smaller than I expected from
the high-end community, and I suspected it was one of the last
remaining original homes. When property values began rising in Cape
Coral back in the nineties, Cape Harbour was considered the best
location in town due to its proximity to the ocean. There were no
locks or canals to navigate through to get to open water. The
developer had a hefty wallet and bought out most of the residents,
tearing down the existing homes and building a luxury community.
There had been only a few hold-outs who refused to sell, and their
small homes stood out around the surrounding McMansions.

I was thankful for its small square footage,
because it meant fewer places for something to hide, and less space
to clear. Within a few minutes we had checked the great room,
bathroom, and two guest rooms, and we were huddled in front of the
final door, listening for some hint as to what lay beyond. We heard
only a buzzing sound. This close to the door, the scent of death
was stifling, and my eyes burned and watered in response.

Jake tried the knob, it turned freely, and
the door opened inward without sound. Like a strong gust of wind,
the nauseatingly pungent odor rushed through the opening and into
our faces, followed by a thick cloud of flies that explained the
buzzing. I had to turn away, fighting the urge to vomit, knowing if
any of us made a sound, we would be greeted by nightmares.

On the floor, directly in our path, was the
festering corpse of a large dog. Tufts of furry flesh surrounded
the form and maggots writhed, feeding on the little remaining bits
of shriveled flesh that clung to the mangled bones.

The entire area was stained with blood and
feces, making the beige color of the carpet unrecognizable until
farther into the room, where bloody shoes had left a zig-zag of
trails. In addition to the carpet, the bottom two feet of the foyer
walls were coated in blood that turned to a speckling the higher I
gazed;, making it look like a faux finish.

It was too much for Meg, and she backed out
of the room, leaving me, Jake, and Vinny to continue on. At this
point, we knew we weren't here to make contact with a fellow
survivor, but we couldn't leave without being certain. Also, if we
wanted to comfortably scavenge for supplies, the house needed to be
clear.

We pressed on, into the room, and stopped
when we saw a figure silhouetted in the front window. It was clear
the blood-stained form standing a few yards away from us was that
of a zombie. The dog must have put up quite a fight, because the
zombies arms and legs were covered in unhealed scratches and torn
skin.

The sun glinted off the bicycle helmet's
reflectors, still clasped in place on its head, and answered our
initial question. No survivor had signaled us.

It wasn't the zombie itself that scared me so
bad at that moment; it was the inability to penetrate its skull
while it wore the helmet. The protection meant we would need to be
up close and personal, adding greater risk of being bitten, to take
it down.

Jake and Vinny split and approached on either
side of the undead, while I stood there like an idiot with my thumb
up my ass. The zombie turned at the crunching sound of their shoes
as they brought their feet down on carpet fibers made hard by dried
blood. The corpse hissed in our direction. It lunged at Jake,
surprising all of us with its speed. This was the fastest one I'd
seen yet, not fast enough that a healthy human couldn't outrun it,
but too fast for comfort in such a tight space.

It closed the distance with its unexpected
speed and was on Jake before he could parry, driving him backwards
onto the carpet. Its snarling maw darted forward and bit empty air
as Jake snapped his head to the side.

"Jake!" I yelled, running forward in the same
instant.

Vinny was on top of them, pulling the zombie
back by the helmet, before I reached him.

"Hold him off me!" Jake struggled, and while
Vinny held the corpse suspended in the air above him, Jake drove
the screwdriver upward and through its chin, pushing it in to the
hilt. The zombie struggled for only a second, then went limp, and
fell, lifeless, to the carpet as Vinny threw its body off Jake.

Jake lay still, trying to catch his breath,
covered in zombie gunk and maggots that had spilled from the
corpse's open sores.

Chapter 03: Tuesday

We gathered what supplies we could carry, using the
homeowner's hockey bag to transport them. Jake and Vinny each took
a handle and we set off for the boat. The trip back was uneventful;
we didn't see a single zombie. After a small struggle with
positioning the ramp across to the boat, we boarded and secured the
ramp into its hidey-hole.

"Oh, my God, Jake," stammered Meg. "You smell
so bad."

I had to agree, he was pretty ripe.

"Bet you're wishing we'd filled that hot tub
now, eh, bro?" quipped Vinny.

"Suck it," Jake barked back.

"That's what she said."

Jake rolled his eyes, and just like that our
joking had resumed. "I'm declaring this a total loss." He motioned
at his shirt before carefully lifting it over his head and tossing
it overboard.

"Good call, babe," I confirmed, and headed to
the bedroom to free Daphne from her solitude. "Daaaaa-phne," I
called as I got closer to the door. She let loose with a series of
shrill barks upon hearing my voice and stamped her tiny front paws
into the rug when I opened the door.

"Okay, that one's a freebie for me not taking
you out this morning." I pointed to the pile of shit at the foot of
the bed, and went in search of the dustpan to scoop that poop. Jake
laughed upstairs, and she darted out of the room to find him. "I
see how it is. Traitor!" I shouted to her as she sped off.

"Hey, Meg?" I called from the base of the
stairs.

"Yeah?"

"Come help me organize all this crap."

The boys had been kind enough to bring the
huge bag down for us, and we spent the next hour putting everything
into the pantry and taking inventory of our score. The gods had
answered my silent prayers, and we returned with two full cases of
water. The new cases were stacked beneath the single case leftover
from our original stay on the boat, giving us a total of ninety
bottles.

"We're going to have to cut back on our
consumption unless we want to make continued scavenging trips," I
stated. "I don't know about you, but I'd prefer not to venture off
the boat unless it's absolutely necessary."

"I agree completely." She was organizing the
canned goods, taking care to line up the labels like Seth used to
do. The unwelcome memory caused a pang of emotion to bubble up
inside me, and my breath caught in my throat. To her credit, Meg
either didn't notice or was kind enough to let it go without
discussion. I busied myself with a new stack of cans and put
pressure on my eyes to will them to remain dry.