Winter's Salvation (8 page)

Naomi started to think she may be able to get back to her car and drive to her ex husband’s apartment.  She told Sam to stay where she was for a second and she would be right back.  They were about thirty yards from their house when she turned back to check on her car.  She started to run and as soon as she took a few steps a flailing body broke the glass in her kitchen door window. 

A woman thrashed against the kitchen door trying to get out and go after the two escapees.  A large open gash peeled from her forehead and Naomi believed she just gave herself that slash by banging her head against the broken glass.  Black and crimson blood oozed from the open wound.  

Just then the woman threw herself at the door and the glass fell all around her as she flopped out of the broken window and fell to her face.  She immediately stood back up and began to run down the stairs toward them. 

“Run!” Naomi hollered to Sam.  “Go to Mr. Cooks!”  She started running as fast as she could.   

             
Sam ran and jumped onto the old six foot tall fence that separated the two properties and started climbing to get into his yard, when she saw the old man step out onto his front porch.  The man was bent over with age and all she could make out at the time was two skinny bright white legs and a very dark shirt.  The old man walked slowly along the front porch to the side of his house and in his hands was a world war two M1 Garand rifle.
 

             
As soon as Sam landed in Mr. Cooks lawn Naomi hit the fence and started climbing.  Her toes ripped through her black stockings and her bare toes interlocked with the steel chain link fence.  She winced in pain, but forced herself to the top of the tall fence.  She ripped her tight fitting blue dress right up the middle when she threw her legs over the top.  She straddled the top bar and the manic ghoul smashed into the fence throwing Naomi over the top and landing on her back. 

             
The creature did not climb over the fence, but tried to force it’s hands and body in between the rusting links.  Naomi pushed away with her feet and her hands were pressed hard against her back supporting it, as she arched it.  Sam went to her side and tried to help her up, but Naomi cried out in pain.  The zombie gnashed it’s face against the fence and bit down on the links breaking her teeth.  Thick black and crimson blood smeared across her grey skin as the ghoul smashed her face and forced the rusted links to cut into her flesh. 

             
“Get down,” a voice hollered to them and Sam laid over her mother.  A shot rang out and the female ghoul was launched backwards and thrown to her back.  It was back onto it’s hands and knees in a fraction of a second.  The shot went through the right shoulder, but the frenzying ghoul still had function of its right arm.  It got to it’s feet and began moving toward Naomi when another shot rang out.   

             
This time the zombie flew sideways and landed on its left side facing Sam and Naomi.  The shot went through the back of the creature’s neck and now lay looking at the two of them.  It let out a scream and ground it’s teeth, but made no move toward them.  The ghoul’s milky eyes were fixed on the females, but her body laid motionless.  She was paralyzed, but still wanted to destroy them.  It had no care for itself and all it wanted to do was kill. 

             
Naomi got to her feet with the help of Sam and they started making their way to Mr. Cook.  He turned his attention to the front of the house and let out a few more shots.  After they were away from the fence and almost to the old man’s house, Mr. Cook turned his attention back to the paralyzed screaming ghoul and silenced it with a shot to the head.               

             
Mr. Cook is a short, solid, broad shoulder man with a thick charcoal colored beard.   He wore blue corduroy shorts with black suspenders that stretched out wide around his large belly and wore a burgundy colored short sleeved button up shirt.  Long socks covered his large calves and his dirty white shoes had mud caked on them.

             
He would talk with Naomi often, but most of the time she tried to avoid him.  He is a retired teacher and would always lend advice about her lawn and odd and end projects that she had no intention of ever starting.  She had asked him on a couple occasions to help with unclogging a toilet or helping to install a few electric outlets.  Mr. Cook is the man she has grown to enjoy living next to because of his handiness and willing to help in any situation, but only on her terms.  She was very surprised to see the pacifistic retiree walk out of his house with a rifle and then actually use it.   

             
Mr. Cook’s house was an old beat up yellow rancher that looked as if it was built facing the wrong direction.  What was supposed to be the front of the house was facing Naomi’s house, but they made it so the front porch attached to the kitchen.  His house is the oldest house in the neighborhood and at one point in time the main road ran between their houses, but that was before Naomi’s house was built.  As time went by the population grew and, so did the need for newer roads, so they removed the road and now Mr. Cooks home just look a little off from the current main road.  Looking from the main road a huge garage is hidden by the rest of the house.  The front roll up entrance to the garage along with the driveway was moved to face the back of the house. 

“I shot those things right in the chest and they just kept coming.”  Mr. Cook said as he took Naomi’s hand and helped her up the front steps to the kitchen porch.  The sound
of multiple small dogs barking followed them as they moved from the once front of the house, that faced Naomi’s, to the new front that faced the road.  “I saw it on the T.V. these people going crazy and you shouldn’t trust anyone, but since they were coming after you I just assumed you two were not a part of the crazies.” 

G
asping for breath Naomi thanked him as he led them into the kitchen.  He pointed to one of the kitchen chairs with the tip of his rifle, “Grab that chair for your momma, darling.”  As soon as they took their first steps into the house, three small fluffy white dogs came running up to them barking and jumping up, fighting one another for their attention.  Mr. Cook tried shooing them away, with no results, so he slid one of them with his foot, just hard enough to send it sliding across the yellow linoleum.  He then hollered something unintelligible to it and all three backed away to the edge of the kitchen and sat wagging their tails frantically with excitement.  

The kitchen was the exact same dirty yellow color as the siding on the house.  Everything in the kitchen was designed with the same theme and that theme was the color yellow.  Lemon wedges lined the boarders of the walls and yellow sun magnets littered the old refrigerator.  On the sink was a green frog with a
coarse yellow sponge sticking out of it’s mouth.  Everything in the kitchen had some yellow design to it with the exception of the rolling chairs.  The cushions are a hard brown plastic material that Naomi heard crack into hundreds of small pieces as the hard chair contoured stiffly to her body.   

Mr. Cook looked out the front kitchen window over the sink and said, “They got into the damn yard again.  Those first two just pushed in my gate and now I see another one w
andering in.  That one I shot is getting back up too.”  He ran his fingers over his balding head as if he were running them through thick flowing hair and then looked to his rifle.  “I’ll be back.” He said as he left the kitchen. 

“You can’t go out there.” Naomi said spinning in the rolling chair.   

“Honey, I’m going to kill those things then lock the gate.  I saw those things on the news and those things aren’t human.  They’re likely to kill us if we don’t kill them.”  With that he turned and took a closer look out the kitchen door’s window.  “I’ll be right back.”  He turned and walked out of the kitchen and down a dark hallway.  Hollering through the house, “On the news I saw one guy biting people.  They said if anyone has any scratches or open wounds not to let them into your house.  They even said turn away family.”  He returned and put a box of bullets on the table and started loading the magazine from his rifle.  His hands were shaky, but found a undeniable comfortable skill when loading each round.  “They said they can infect you with their virus if they bite or scratch you.  Can you believe that, turn away family?”  Smacking the magazine in the M1, he pulled back the bolt action, loading his rifle, and again looked out the window.  “I’ll be back in a second.” 

He opened the door and looked out as if he were going to walk across a street
; he looked left, right and then left again.  Satisfied with his surroundings he brought the rifle to his shoulder, looked down the sights, stepped out onto the porch and fired. 

Sam and Naomi thought they heard him whisper after that shot. “Now stay down mother fucker.”  That was followed by another shot.
 

Sam closed the door and locked it.  Looking out the window Mr. Cook just stepped down off the porch as his second shot sounded.  There were three in the yard now and one was in front, walking with a brisk pace toward him when another shot fired and Sam witnessed its head disappear into a shower of debris that rained on the two that lacked behind.  She let out a shriek and closed the curtains.  Naomi held her hands out to her and squeezed her softly to avoid hurting her back any more than it already was. 

Multiple shots rang out and after a few minutes the door knob to the kitchen turned.  Sam and Naomi turned to the door and Sam hesitantly reached for the curtains when she heard, “Hey let me in.  I don’t appreciate being locked out of my own house.”

She unlocked it quickly.  He stepped in and wiped his feet on the welcome mat, as if he had just came in from the rain.  “If I’m out there at least keep an eye on me, so if I have to come in, I don’t have to wait to be let in.” 

They both nodded in agreement and Mr. Cook pulled a chair up next to Naomi.  “Honey, we’re going to have to fit you with some new cloths and we need to clean up your feet.  You’re bleeding on my floor.” 

Naomi, completely dumbfounded at his comment looked down confused and saw that her feet were bloody from when she climbed the fence. 

“Go over and use the bath tub while we still have water pressure.”  He said, loading his rifle again. 

“Thank you.” Naomi replied.

**********

“I know it’s not the most stylish thing in the world, but I have to imagine it is more comfortable than what you had on.”  Mr. Cook said referring to Naomi’s new attire. 

She sat wearing a grey hooded sweat shirt that had a large picture of a bald eagle soaring over a mountain range and in big letters ALASKA printed on it.  Blue jeans that were too large for her and a pair of white nurses shoes that were too big, but with the gauze wrappings around the fronts of her feet, gave the shoes a tight snug feeling. 

They all sat in dim candle light in the wood paneling walled living room.  Mr. Cook sat with his back to the kitchen in a
n old large brown rocking recliner and Sam and Naomi sat on the couch that was just under the window that faced Naomi and Sam’s house.  Sam sat on her knees spreading the blinds with her index finger and thumb, trying to be sneaky, but filled with anxiety waiting to see something come to the fence from their house.  The last Sam could see from this vantage point was more of the ghouls rummaging through the house.  Before it got too dark Sam could have sworn she saw a creature moving around in her room, but now she could barely make out the chain link fence.  The moon decided that tonight it would be unusually dark and the only reason she can see the fence is because when the wind blows, the fence will reflect a faint shimmer of light. With the shimmer of light came the wails and groans sailing through the wind of the undead in their house.   

“The clothes are fine and I thank you, so very much.  We thank you, so very much.  We don’t know what we would have done if you weren’t home.”  Naomi put her hands in the pouch of the sweat shirt and leaned back gently.  She looked up to the light that hung from the ceiling by a chain and watched as the candles bounced off the glass of the light.
 

“Well you are more than welcome to stay here for as long as you’d like.”  Mr. Cook said, “Did you have any plans?  From here, I mean.”

Sam glanced at her wanting to hear her response.  “I was thinking about going to Sam’s fathers or heading to my parents place.  My ex doesn’t live too far from here; a few miles down the road in Dunhaven and my parents live down by the Rail Way Tavern.”  Sam was happy with the response.

“Those apartments?” He asked.

“Yes.”

  The old man rocked in his chair slowly, “The apartments were hit pretty hard.  They have the highest concentration of people and a lot of people were trapped in their apartments.” He came to a stop, “It was on the news earlier.”

Sam faced him and tears rolled from her eyes creating flowing rivers that rolled over her small cheeks.  “We watched the news, that’s not true.”

Quickly realizing he upset the little girl, “I could have been mistaken.”  He said.  “They didn’t show every complex and I had the T.V. turned down pretty low.”  Sam didn’t say another word, but laid her head in her mother’s lap.

They sat in a long silence until Sam noticed a Woman in a picture standing next to a younger Mr. Cook.  “If you don’t mind me asking,”  She said, “where is Mrs. Cook?”  She knew there has never been another woman over his house since she had lived next to him, but never cared to know why, until now.  As she asked, Naomi scowled at her.