I used to like getting scared.
When I was little, I loved watching scary movies. Black-and-white monster movies, 70s slasher flicks, movies about ghosts and aliens and killer dolls – I watched them all. It was fun to get scared in the safety of my house or Makayla’s, knowing the movies were just pretend and nothing like that could ever hurt me.
After my dad died, I stopped watching slasher movies. I stopped watching anything that was too realistic. But I still watched the stuff about ghosts and aliens and killer dolls. I still watched the old black-and-white movies about Dracula and Frankenstein and Wolfman. I took out my anger on the monsters in video games, blowing out the brains of the zombies in Resident Evil. That was the fun kind of scary. None of those things could hurt me or my family.
I miss my old life, before I knew zombies were real, before I knew I’d never feel safe again.
I don’t want to be scared anymore.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
9:00 a.m.
Yesterday’s rain had cleared, and the morning was bright and sunny, hardly a cloud in the sky. “It’s gonna be a hot one,” Kevin had predicted, from inside the already-stuffy chapel. “We’ll go out early for target practice.”
He had taken AJ with him first. They’d left in the Hummer at the crack of dawn and still weren’t back. Huddled inside the chapel, Gabby was starting to get worried. What if something had happened to them? Kevin was their leader, and AJ looked tough, easily the second-strongest. How could the rest survive without them?
She looked around at the others. They were a pretty pathetic bunch.
Her mother had gotten all domestic, of course, trying to spruce up the chapel and make it fit for living in. They’d made their beds in the pews of the sanctuary, which had also become their living area, after they’d gotten tired of holing up in the tiny Sunday school room. That had become their dining room, since it had a table and chairs and was close to the chapel’s small kitchen, which Jo had used it to prepare meals. They weren’t good meals, but Gabby had to hand it to her for trying.
That was more than the other two had done. Howie talked the talk, but Gabby hadn’t seen him lift a finger to help around the church yet. He seemed to think he’d done enough by risking his life to bring back supplies with Kevin. He mostly sat around in his ridiculous business suit, feeling sorry for himself and finding things to complain about, while the others bustled around him, Jo and Gabby organizing and inventorying, Kevin and AJ guarding and fortifying the chapel.
And then there was Kayleigh.
Kayleigh had been almost hysterically talkative when she’d first arrived, but since the adrenaline had left her system, she had all but shut down completely, isolating herself from the rest of the group, refusing to speak, refusing to eat. Gabby rolled her eyes in Kayleigh’s direction. The older girl had wedged herself into the corner of the very last pew, sitting sideways, her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, as if she were literally holding herself together. Her head was bowed, so she couldn’t see the looks of annoyance Gabby was casting her. Gabby didn’t think she was praying, though. Feeling sorry for herself, most likely. As if she were special. As if she’d had it any harder than the rest of them.
Gabby thought that, for a girl who was old enough to be considered an adult, Kayleigh was being awfully selfish. She hadn’t bothered to ask anyone else about what they had been through since the plague had struck. She didn’t know – or care, it seemed – that Gabby had seen her best friend dead, or that Gabby’s mother had tried and failed to save everyone in the hospital before she had finally left, or that Kevin had watched all of his Air Force comrades die and turn to zombies. Howie and AJ had lost friends and loved ones, too, no doubt, but you didn’t see them curling up to die themselves. No one else had the nerve to act that way when there was so much to be done. Even Gabby had snapped out of the stupor she’d been in on Sunday and was ready to help.
It was too bad, really. Kayleigh was the only one even close to Gabby’s age; they could have been friends. But Gabby didn’t want to be friends with such a Debbie Downer. She missed Makayla more than ever. Makayla had always been able to lift her mood, even this past year, after her father’s murder. Sometimes Gabby had taken her for granted, but now, more than ever, she realized what a valuable friend Makayla had been. The realization made her throat tighten and her eyes burn, but she refused to let herself cry. She was not going to break down now. She was not going to be like Kayleigh.
The morning sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling stained glass window behind the altar. Gabby watched dust particles floating in the beams of colored light, gazed at the patterns they made on the opposite wall of the sanctuary. She would have wanted to get married in a church like this, with wooden pews and stained glass windows. Once, she and Makayla had gone through a bridal magazine and planned their fantasy weddings, picking out gowns and flowers and cakes. Gabby had pictured herself grown up and beautiful, walking down a long aisle with her father, ready for him to give her away to the cutest boy from school, who was no longer boyish and cute, but also grown up and handsome. Before she got to the altar, her father would lift her veil back off her face and kiss her, and she would hand her bouquet to Makayla, her maid of honor, who would fluff out her long, white train as she climbed the steps to meet her groom.
The long-ago, little-girl fantasy still played vividly in Gabby’s mind, but she knew now that it was just that: a fantasy. Never meant to be a reality. Her father was gone, and so was her best friend. There would be no one to give her away on her wedding day, no one to fluff her dress, and if this was all that was left, no one for her to marry when she was grown up. What was the point of growing up, anyway? Maybe that was the way Kayleigh saw things. For a moment, Gabby could understand.
Then she heard the low rumble of an approaching engine outside, and her gloomy mood lifted. They were back!
She jumped off her pew and flew to the door just outside the sanctuary, arriving just as three short knocks sounded on the other side. “It’s us!” came the deep, rasping voice of AJ.
Gabby threw her weight into one of the marble pedestals they used to block the door, inching it out of the way. She unlocked the door and opened it just a crack to peek out. Seeing AJ, Kevin, and no one else – undead or alive – she stepped back out of the way for the two men to come in.
“Thanks, kid,” said AJ gruffly, while Kevin immediately bolted the door shut again and dragged the pedestal back in front of it. It was the only door they hadn’t boarded up, so that they’d be able to get in and out. The pedestal wouldn’t do much to prevent zombies from getting in if they managed to force the lock, but if the door was kicked in, it would fall, and the heavy crash would be loud enough to alert them. That was the rationale, at least.
Gabby led the two men back into the sanctuary, where the others were scattered. Jo and Howie looked up as they came in. Kayleigh kept her head down, either completely oblivious or intentionally ignoring them.
“Well,” said Kevin, looking around at them all, “target practice went well. This guy’s a damn good shot, for an amateur,” he added, jerking his thumb towards AJ, who smirked, pleased with himself and trying to hide it. “We took down quite a few on the way to the skeet range and back, and we stopped by the communications building to do another broadcast.”
“And how are you feeling, Colonel Richardson?” asked Jo, looking at him in mild concern. They had all been on edge since he’d come back on Sunday with his mask off, but so far, the horrifying symptoms of the plague that had killed everyone else had not yet claimed the colonel.
“Kevin, please,” he insisted with a warm smile, “unless you’d rather I call you Mrs. Lopez.”
“Of course not… Kevin,” Gabby’s mother replied, nodding. “But don’t change the subject. You’re feeling okay? No fever, aches, nausea, skin rash?”
Kevin shook his head, still smiling. “Nothing.”
Jo let out her breath in an audible sigh. “Thank Heaven,” she said, and Gabby felt relieved, too. She didn’t want to think about Kevin covered in sores, like the woman behind the gas station counter. Like Makayla. She closed her eyes and shook the image from her brain. When she opened them, she focused again on the colored sunbeams filtering through the stained glass. She tried not to think of Makayla.
“I want to take another group out now, before it gets too hot,” said Kevin, looking around the sanctuary. “Who wants to go next? Howard?” Howie nodded listlessly and got up. He didn’t look particularly enthusiastic. “Kayleigh?” Naturally, there was no response. Kevin tried again. “Kayleigh? KAYLEIGH!”
When he barked her name, Kayleigh’s head finally jerked up. “What?” She blinked dazedly, but Gabby thought she was faking.
“Target practice. You, me, and Howie. Let’s go.”
Right away, Kayleigh started shaking her head. “No… no,” she repeated. “I told you, I’m not shooting a gun. I’m not going anywhere near those things.”
“You don’t have to go near them; that’s why we’re going in groups. I’ll cover you,” said Kevin. He had been patient with her the last two days, but it seemed to Gabby that his patience was wearing thin. “But you do need to learn how to shoot a gun, in case you do end up near them someday with no one around to protect you. You have to be able to protect yourself.”
But Kayleigh kept shaking her head, refusing to listen to reason. “No… not now. Not today.”
Kevin sighed, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Fine,” he said grimly.
“I’ll come!” Gabby volunteered, jumping on her chance. “I wanna learn how to shoot!” In her head, she saw Makayla again, but this time, her best friend was alive, sitting next to her on the floor as they played Resident Evil. The game had taken on more reality than Gabby had ever imagined. But if zombies were real, then she wanted to be like her character in the game – a gun-toting zombie assassin – not a helpless victim, like Kayleigh.
It was Kevin who had planted this idea in her head yesterday, when he had suggested that even she should learn to shoot. But now she caught him eyeing her mother, silently asking her permission.
Jo looked worried. “I don’t know…” she began, already shaking her head. “She only just turned thirteen…”
“Kids my age ran off to join the army during the Civil War,” Gabby piped up immediately, her heart starting to pound faster. “We’re at war now, Mom, and there’s no one left but us to fight. I have to learn!”
Her mother let out a long sigh, her brow knitted with worry. But finally, she nodded, just as Gabby knew she would. After all, Gabby was right. They all had to do their part. They all had to learn. If they didn’t, who would?
“We’ll get her back safely,” promised Kevin, his large hand clamping down on Gabby’s shoulder. “Let’s go, kiddo.”
Gabby bounced on the balls of her feet as they trooped back to the door. Adrenaline was coursing through her now, and she felt eager, almost excited. She flashed a grin over her shoulder at Howie, but he didn’t return it. He looked pale, like he was dreading leaving the safety of the chapel again. At least he was man enough to do it, though, thought Gabby. Kevin, too, looked grim-faced and stoic, as he hauled the pedestal out of the way once more and unlatched the door.
“I’ll go out first,” he told the others in a low voice. “Then, Howie, you run Gabby to the Hummer and get in. You can drive again. Put her in the back. I’ll cover you and ride shotgun.”
Howie nodded. When Kevin inched through the door, his gun at the ready, Howie grabbed Gabby roughly by the wrist and yanked her out into the open. He took off running before she was ready, and at first, she stumbled, but managed to regain her footing and quickly matched his pace. She didn’t slow down until she reached the Hummer, thrusting out her arms to catch herself against the back door. She quickly climbed in, while Howie ran around to the driver’s side.
As he opened his door, a shot rang out, and Gabby looked out her window in alarm to see a thin wisp of smoke curling out of the barrel of Kevin’s gun. She followed its trail to a fallen zombie, and her breath caught in her throat as she saw more behind it, closing in on Kevin. He fired another shot and sent another dropping to the ground, giving him enough time to get to the Hummer. Howie already had the engine running when Kevin scrambled in, and before his door was shut again, they were already driving away.
“Whew,” sighed Kevin, yanking his door shut.
“Good shooting,” Gabby congratulated him, trying to keep her voice light, but inside, she was shaken. Cooped up inside the chapel for two days, she’d almost forgotten how truly terrifying the zombies were. Her eagerness to fight them quickly drained away, as fear took hold of her. But she kept it in check. She was not going to wig out now, not after she’d pled her case for coming.
While Kevin drove, she looked out her window and tried to focus on her surroundings, not on what might be lurking within them. She’d never been on a military base before, but she could see now why her mother had thought to come here. It was like a small, gated city – and small was an understatement. Just like in her neighborhood, there were winding side streets with neat, little houses on both sides, but there were also large, modern-looking buildings and complexes. Under the clear, blue sky and the bright, Florida sun, everything gleamed, crisp and clean.
The base was well-designed, visually appealing, but it was also haunting, in a way. It reminded Gabby of the block of model homes that had gone up near Makayla’s neighborhood. She’d toured one of them with Makayla and her mother once, just for fun, and come away with the same feeling. The house had been lovely, decorated in neutral colors, smelling of fresh paint and new carpet and upholstery, with shiny appliances and spotless surfaces, a beautifully-landscaped and well-manicured lawn, and a glistening teal pool. Everything in and outside the house was untouched and perfect.
Too perfect.
It was obvious to Gabby that no one had ever lived in that house. No mother had ever cooked in that kitchen. No father had ever mowed that lawn. No children had ever plastered posters on those walls or splashed in that pool. No pets had ever lain on that furniture. Though fully-furnished, the house had seemed empty, sterile.
The base, to Gabby, now looked the same way. Everything was in its place – cars parked in driveways and parking spaces, flowers growing in beds, flags flapping in the breeze – but there were no signs of life, no people. Only the undead, who occasionally stumbled out from behind buildings and trees, staggering aimlessly through lawns and across roads. Gabby got a startle each time, her heart leaping into her throat, until she remembered that she was safe in the Hummer for now, safe with Kevin and Howie. Even so, she felt increasingly uneasy as they drove through the deserted base. Even under the radiance of the spring sun, it was downright creepy. Fog and a full moon would have been more fitting.
“Here we are,” said Kevin after a few minutes, coming to a stop. Gabby looked out onto a wide, open field. It wasn’t just a field, though. There were two, small, brick buildings, almost like short chimneys, spread apart, and between them were markings on the ground, arranged in a large circle.
“What is this place?” she asked Kevin.
“It’s a skeet range,” replied Kevin. “People come here to blow off steam, shoot a few clay disks. It’s good target practice – more for bird hunting than the war, but even so, it helps your tracking and precision. For our needs, it’ll be better than shooting at stationary targets. When you’re trying to take down zombies, they aren’t gonna be stationary. They’ll be moving – not too quickly, but still moving – and you’ll have a small target to aim for: the head. A shot to the head seems to be the only way to kill a zombie – you have to take out the brain, you see.”
Gabby knew that from Resident Evil, of course, but even so, a shudder ran through her. Her game was becoming a reality. The monsters of her imagination were now a part of her real life.
They climbed cautiously out of the car, already looking around for signs of the undead. Gabby felt like a scared rabbit, taking tentative hops into the open field to graze, wary eyes darting all around, ears cocked for the slightest rustle of grass or leaves. And it was a good comparison: she was being hunted. The food chain diagrams in her science book at school were wrong; humans weren’t at the top. Zombies were now the ultimate consumers. The ultimate predators. And Gabby was nothing but prey.
No, not nothing, thought Gabby, as a sudden, fierce determination took her in its grip. The rabbit, who can only run away, is nothing but prey. I’m not a rabbit. I’m not just gonna run. I’m gonna fight back!
She turned to Kevin. “I wanna learn how.”
He smiled. “Then let’s get started.”
***
Gabby had never shot a real gun before, but she quickly discovered she was something of a natural at it. After just half an hour of practice, she had gotten the hang of skeet shooting and was able to at least take a chip off the flying clay disks with almost every shot.
“And if you can hit something that small while it’s flying through the air,” said Kevin, grinning with pride, “you can definitely connect with the head of a zombie while it’s lumbering towards you.”
Howie did not appear to have the same beginner’s luck. He took too much time aiming his shotgun, and his shots were always too late, whizzing past the point where the clay disk had just been. He apparently didn’t have as much experience with video games, thought Gabby. He didn’t get how to follow the trajectory, how to anticipate where the target would be by the time the bullet reached it. Zombies, of course, would not be quite this predictable, but you still had to try to guess their next move.
She was contemplating whether or not to speak up and offer this piece of advice to Howie when she heard a guttural moan. It curdled her blood; her whole body froze up. She saw Kevin stiffen and turn to look and forced herself to do the same. Following his gaze in the direction of the moan, she watched with horror as a small pack of zombies emerged from the trees on the outskirts of the field. As soon as the undead caught sight of the three of them, as soon as the scent of their live flesh carried over to them on the wind, the zombies began to stagger towards them.
Kevin raised his gun first, aimed, and fired. His first shot was low; a zombie in the front of the pack took a bullet to the chest, but continued forward, undeterred. His second shot rang true, and the same zombie collapsed. One behind it, wearing military fatigues, tripped over the first’s fallen body and crumbled to a heap itself. As it dragged itself back to its feet, Kevin aimed low and fired again. The second zombie immediately fell back to the ground, a gaping wound in its skull.
There were still more coming. As she started to come to her senses, Gabby raised the shotgun in her shaking hands. Knowing what she had to do, the very reason she had come out here to practice, she brought the shotgun up level to her cheek, resting the butt of it against her shoulder, the way Kevin had shown her. She took aim, pointing the gun barrel at the zombie coming closest to her. Resisting the impulse to close her eyes, she took a shaky breath and squeezed the trigger.
The force of the blast pushed her backwards, but she kept her eyes on the zombie, watching hopefully for the zombie to stagger and fall. Nothing happened. She had missed.
Next to her, Kevin’s gun went off again, causing her to jump. Another zombie fell, but there were still two more. Determined to get one of them, Gabby raised the gun again, steadied it, and fired. This time, her bullet made contact, ripping off a chunk of flesh from the zombie’s cheek.
“Good shot, Gabby!” yelled Kevin. “One more oughta do it!”
He fired again, taking down the other zombie. Only the one Gabby’s bullet had grazed was still lumbering around, and she could tell he meant for her to kill it. She positioned her gun one more time, aimed, and pulled the trigger once more. The bullet was too quick for her to see, but all of a sudden, the zombie’s legs were folding under it; it was collapsing to the ground.
She released her breath with a little gasp, staring in disbelief. Smoke spiraled from the barrel of her gun, and she could smell the sharp, metallic burn of the gunpowder. Through the haze, she saw that the field was empty again. All five of the undead lay motionless in the grass, mere yards from each other.
“You did it!” crowed Kevin, snapping her out of her shock. “Thatta girl!” Taking the gun out of her hand and tossing it down, he pulled her into a quick, one-armed hug, drawing her tight against his side. “You okay?” he asked, ruffling her shoulder a little, as he held her there.
Gabby nodded, still in disbelief. She looked over at Howie, who was standing apart from them, his own gun frozen in his hand. He had not even bothered to lift it. His tan complexion was pale with shock. Seeing his fear seemed to take some of hers away. “That… that wasn’t so scary,” she managed to say, though her voice came out shaky and small. “We got ‘em all before they got too close to us, at least.”
Kevin squeezed her close again. “You did great, kiddo,” he agreed. Following her gaze to Howie, he added, “What do you think? Another few rounds, and then we’ll call it a day?”
Gabby couldn’t help but giggle at the stunned look on Howie’s face.
