Zombified (Episode 3): Garden Harbor (10 page)

"Got it." Matty waited for Joey to reach the top of the stairs before starting up.

"There's a lot of blood on the landing," said Joey, swishing his shoe across the wooden floor.  "I see two doors, both closed—I'm checking the first."  The floor creaked under his weight; no other noise echoed in the house.  Matty stood guard at the top of the stairs.

"What do you think happened here?" Dana whispered.

"No idea," Joey replied.  He turned the knob and opened the first door; a cramped bedroom, barely visible in the failing light, offered no clues to Dana's question.  "Clear in here.  Dana, there's candles and matches on the nightstand; grab 'em and light 'em up."

She picked up the three white candles, stuffed two in her hip pocket, and lit the third.  Soft yellow light radiated out, revealing a rustic-styled room with hand-made wooden furniture and an unhealthy layer of dust.

"I don't think anyone was living in here," said Dana.  "Not recently, anyways."

Joey examined the nightstand, bed, and floor.  "You're right, babe.  Someone must've come here looking for something and left in a hurry."

"The car flew down the hill and the zombies tumbled after it," Matty murmured.  "Whoever was here must have found munchers and tried to escape in a hurry."

Joey nodded.  "Let's check the other room."

Wider and airier than the first room, the bedroom showed signs of fighting and upheaval.  Drops of blood dotted the exposed mattress and the curtains lay in a heap below the windows.  Fragments of a shattered rocking chair littered the uneven wood floor.

"Wrestlemania," Dana said. 

"Looks like it started in here," Matty pointed toward the stairs, "and ended out there."

"It ended on the path." Joey kicked a piece of the chair.  "Zombies chased someone out of this place, and they ran right into a car of unlucky fucks."

"Whadda think, Joey?" Dana looked around the room.  "Should we stay here for a night?"

He shrugged.  "I suppose so.  We could use some rest and there's no way we're hiking to the base at night."

She stepped close to his side and grinned wickedly.  "Maybe there's a clean bed somewhere?"

"What?" Joey looked at her sidelong.  "There's blood and who knows what else on the mattress."

"I'm not saying that mattress." Her hand slid down Joey's leg.

"All right!" Matty spun around and walked out of the room.  "Let me get outta sight first, please!  I'll go see about barricading the doors."

"You a crazy woman!" Joey said, sending Dana into a fit of giggles.

Matty paused at the top of the stairs, his eyes scanning the walls and ceiling: a square of recessed wood caught his gaze.  "I think we got an attic here, Joe."

"Shit!" Joey bounded out of the room, gun drawn, and stalked around the bottom of the opening.  "I don't see any way to open it, other than to climb up and push."

"Let's hope nobody left a present in there," Matty said. 

"Maybe I should go first," Dana offered.

Joey huffed.  "Like hell, girl."

"Joey, think about it." Dana gestured to her shoulder.  "I'm immune to the infection."

"Are you immune to having your jugular ripped out?"  Joey snapped his jaws next to Dana's neck, making her jump back.

"Okay!" She rubbed at her neck.  "Hey, I was thinking, how do we know Geoff wasn't immune?  I mean, he could have been, right?"

Joey glanced at Matty and then looked away. 

"Yes," answered Matty. 

"Oh." Dana fumbled for something to say.

I think she finally understands why Joey doesn't agree with me
.  Matty gave her a reassuring smile.  "I accept the responsibility, so don't feel guilty—please."

She nodded.  "So what are we doing about the attic?"

"We have to check it out." Joey stared at the wooden square.  "I don't think I can fit through that thing, though."

"Hell no," Matty agreed; "I won't fit, either."

"Guess that leaves me!" Dana raised a hand.

Joey growled.  "Not a snowball's chance in hell, babe.  I'll push it open and stick my head in… if nothing bites, then we close it up and move on."

"Can you two handle the attic?" Matty said.  "I wanna get downstairs and start barricading every window and door I can find."

Joey nodded.  "Yeah, we got this."

Matty rounded the post and trotted downstairs.  After a quick walk-about, he rummaged for materials.  Using a heavy plush sofa, Matty barricaded the front door; he slid an oak side table against the back door.  Both entrances had standard knob locks and a sliding chain, which did little to assuage his fears of zombie hordes crashing through the less than sturdy wood.

All the windows were single-paned and counter-weighted, bearing slatted shutters and thick curtains caked with dust.  Without a hammer or nails, Matty was at a loss how to secure them.  He settled on closing the shutters, locking the windows, and closing the curtains.

I need to find tools
.  After a thorough ransacking, he found a bottle of bleach and three cans of green beans—some generic brand a few months past expiration.

Joey and Dana made their way to the ground floor.

"All is quiet in the attic," he said.  In his arms, Joey clutched a box of musty blankets.  "Not that we'll need these, but it was the only thing within reach."

"Any tools up there?" Matty asked.  "The windows are vulnerable, but we don't have hammers, nails, saws—nothing useable at all."

Joey chewed his lip and then shrugged.  "We'll just have to sleep on the second floor and post a sentinel at the top of the stairs."

"I found some expired green beans." Matty tossed a can to Joey.  "How hungry are you?"

"Not that hungry." Joey tossed it back.  "I do have to take a shit, though."

"I think there's a bucket in the bedroom." Dana pointed upstairs. 

Joey made his way there, his stomach gurgling and growling. 

"Are you okay?  Any damage from the crash?"

Dana shook her head.  "Nah, I'm good.  You?"

"Fucking swell, thanks for asking."  Matty sat on one of the dining chairs and rubbed his temples.  "Nothing a strong coffee and a few smokes couldn't fix."

"What kind of smoke?" Dana teased.  "Because I don't think we're gonna find any special stuff lying around here."

He groaned.  "Yeah, please don't remind me.  No more getting stoned and playing video games… add it to the list of little things."

A creaking board silenced them, drawing their attention to the covered window in the parlor.  After a few seconds of silence, the sound repeated.

"It's on the porch," Dana whispered.

Matty nodded and slowly got off the chair; he slid the gun from his belt and waited.  Over the course of five minutes, the creaking boards traced a route across the front of the cabin and then started back in the direction it had begun.

"Ohhh yeah," Joey's voice echoed from upstairs.  "That's what I'm talking about."

Matty closed his eyes. 
Tell me that didn't carry outside, please… a little fucking luck would be nice
.

A low, throaty growling replaced the creaking boards.

"Fuck me."  Matty raised the gun, aiming at the window closest to the sound.  "Dana, get up there and tell him to shit in silence."

She dashed off, trying to get up the stairs quickly and quietly but failing at both; every stair seemed to emit a bone-jarring squeal that rebounded off the walls and magnified.

Thump
…

It beat on the shutters, hammering steadily and moaning.  For the moment, there seemed to be only one, but Matty knew the vocalization served as a siren call for munchers: soon there would be more.

Joey appeared on the stairs carrying his boots in one hand and gun in the other. 

"What the fuck is going on?"

Matty pointed at the window and held up a finger.  On cue, the zombie beat against the shutter and gurgled. 

Joey tiptoed to the window and pressed his body against the wall; using the gun barrel, he nudged the curtain open, grimaced, and backed away.

"There are more of 'em climbing the hill," he said.  "If it were just the one, I'd say let's go shut it up before it attracts attention, but that ain't happenin'."

"The window seems to be holding up," said Dana.  "Maybe if we go upstairs—"

"Pieces of the shutter are cracking, babe," Joey interrupted.  "These things don't stop once they sense food."

Dana took a deep breath and kept a straight face, but her eyes betrayed a rising level of panic.  "Do we make a run for it?"

"Running through the woods at night is insane," Matty said.  "We need to wait for first light."

Joey nodded agreement.  "We need melee weapons.  If we post up on the second floor, right at the top of the stairs, we can deal with them and avoid attracting more with gunshots."

"I don't think they're getting in through the doors.  The windows should keep them from swarming."  Matty looked around the cabin.  "We need some good bludgeoning weapons and maybe a polearm or something to shove them down the stairs."

"A spear!" Dana exclaimed.  "I can stand at the rail and jab the fuckers in the skull while you guys bash their fuckin' brains in!"

Matty gave her a wide-eyed stare.  "You've gone barbarian on us."

"Hell yeah!" She clenched her fists.

"We need to work fast." Joey tucked the gun in his waistband.  "Dana, go upstairs and scavenge anything you can find to use as a club or spear.  Matty and me will scour down here."

She dashed away and Joey took off toward the parlor. 

An idea flashed in Matty's mind and he headed for the kitchen.  Retrieving his last pocketknife, Matty popped off the refrigerator and freezer door; he carried them up and leaned both against the wall near the staircase.

Joey hauled three chairs and the legs from a dining table to the second floor.

"What's with the fridge doors?"

Matty raised his arm, imitating a shield.  "We can brace the large door across the top and use the smaller one as a ram, if needed."

"Nice.  I say we drag the fridge to the foot of the stairs, too, and create an obstacle to slow the fuckers down."

They positioned the fridge and started working on weapons; the sound of cracking glass lent urgency to the work.  Dana sharpened one end of a thin dowel she had found in a closet; it was barely long enough to use as a spear. 

Using strips cut from the curtains, Joey wrapped handles on the dining table legs and Matty secured a can of green beans at the top.  After fifteen minutes, they had three can-headed table-leg maces and two dowel spears, along with the fridge shields and barricade.

At least one window was broken, but they hadn't seen any zombies in the cabin yet.

Dana held onto the railing with her left hand and balanced a spear in the right.

"You look like a Spartan sentinel, D," said Matty.

"What?" She furrowed her brow. 

Their attention turned to the base of the stairs: torn and ragged, a gray-skinned zombie staggered into view.  It spotted Joey and Matty and uttered a hollow wail, attracting three more from different parts of the house.

"Here we go." Joey gripped a table mace with both hands.  "How long until dawn?"

"Too fucking long, bro," said Matty.  "Way too fucking long."

CHAPTER 9

Joey's boot crashed into the zombie's face, sending it flying down the stairs.  Dana leaned over the railing and thrust the spear into another mangled face.

Matty heard the wood crack; he saw Dana dangle awkwardly, clutching at the snapping beams.  There was no room to maneuver; Joey stood to his left, blocking a clear path around to the edge where Dana hung on to the buckling rails.  "Joe!" He yelled and pushed, trying to direct his friend's attention.

"Shit! Dana!" Joey spotted her and leapt up the stairs, leaving Matty alone against the encroaching zombie mob.  "Hang on, baby!"

"Joe-ee-ey!" She screamed as the wood splintered and her grip slipped from the supports.  She fell and slammed onto the stairs five feet below Matty, wailing in pain and clutching her left arm.

Matty swung the table-leg mace overhead, mashing a zombie's melon; he stepped over her prostrate body and faced the tangled mass of undead jostling in the confined space.  "Joey, get her out of here!"

He was there in a flash, lifting Dana from the ground and carrying her into the upstairs bedroom.  "Hold them off!"

They surged forwarded.  Matty spotted a streak of blood on the broken railing and the stairs. 

Shit!  That's gonna stir up a feeding frenzy
.  Matty backpedaled, jamming the mace into a rotten filth-covered face.  "Joe, there's blood on the stairs.  These fuckers are getting wound up!"

"Dana's pretty messed up," Joey called; "I need to get her patched up first."

"We need to deal with the fucking zombies first!" A set of moldy teeth tore a shred from Matty's sleeve.  "In about five seconds, you're gonna be playing doctor while a dozen undead are chewing on my fucking bones!"

"Sonnabitch!" Joey hurtled out of the bedroom and bounded down the stairs.  He mashed a pair of zombies with one brutal swing, crushing both heads into the wall. 

The scent of blood had reached every zombie on the ground floor and they howled frantically, drawing in more and more from outside.  Rotting fingers reached between the staircase rails, tugging at Matty and Joey's legs.

"Fuck me!" Matty swung, hammering the arms and mashing fingers.  "We gotta fall back, Joe!  There's too many down here and it's getting way too crowded."

Joey bashed in a few more heads and then bounded to the top landing.  "Start tearing up the floor boards!  Open up the whole floor right here!"  Joey swung the mace overhead, smashing a fist-sized hole in the boards at his feet.

Matty joined in and they had torn open a sizeable pit when the first zombie ascended; it stepped forward and plunged through the hole, crashing back down to the first floor. 

"Let's open up this whole section." Joey pointed to the boards running from the landing to just before the first bedroom entrance.  "Make sure they can't step across the gap."