the light blue carpet of his mother’s bedroom.
The gun still clutched in his hand. Wes blindly walked back to the living room. His mother lay slumped against the couch. Blood covered her shirt pooling on the carpet next to her body. Wes stood over his mother staring. He knew she was dead.
“This can’t be happening.” Was all he could think. “Dad was the one that was going to kill her, never Reggie, never.” He whispered as tears began to prickle in his eyes. He looked down at his mother and thought bitterly, “at least she didn’t have to know I was the one who killed Reg.”
Wes’ heart lept when he saw his mother twitch. He swiped the tears from his eyes and stared, “Mom? “ He took a step toward her, her eyes snapped open. Slowly she turned her head toward him staring.
“No. No way No! Mom! Not you!” He wept as she began to slowly push herself off the floor. “NO NO NO. Come on Mom not you!” Wes screamed backing away while keeping the gun aimed at her. “Stay away!” He cried.
The same look of hunger and anger contorted her face. Shaking, still pleading, he pulled the trigger; her shoulder exploded. Awkwardly she continued to push herself up. Gaining her feet finally she stumbled toward her son. Wes watched the muzzle flash. The wall behind his mother changed instantly from white to red and brain matter grey.
Tears streamed freely down his face. He watched his mother crumpled in front of the couch. Closing his eyes he sunk to the floor in the living room and cried until he was completely drained.
The light was fading when it hit him like a slap to the face. “I have to get out of here, get to somewhere safe….. I have to find Beth. We have to get out of town.” He told no one as he got up. He hurrying back to his mother’s bedroom. Stepping over Reg’s body he went to the bed. Throwing open the night stand, he pulled out the extra clip and a box of bullets. “God please don’t let Beth leave before I can get there.”
He stood with his back to the doorway. “They were zombies,” He told the gun. “Unfuckingbeleivable, zombies.” He turned looking at the body of the man who had taken care of him and his mother. The man that had loved him like a son and always been there for him was now dead at his hand. Grief crashed over him again bringing back tears he thought could not fall, forcing him to sit on the edge of the bed to keep from collapsing. Finally regaining his composure he pulled the sheets from the bed. He covered Reginald Smith, the kindest man he had ever known.
He made his way back into the living room. He knelt down next to his mother. He couldn’t look at her face. He covered her with the comforter he pulled from the couch. “You were always cold, Mom, this should keep you warm.” He muttered wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
Picking up the sword he grabbed a towel from the kitchen and cleaned the blade. He mounted the stairs slowly returning to his bedroom. He grabbed the scabbard for the sword from the back of the closet. He fashioned a way to attach it to his back with an old belt. “Real Conan like.” He told his reflection in the mirror. Looking closely he grabbed an old shirt scrubbing at the blood on his face. He rubbed until he was raw. Checking the reflection again he breathed a sigh noting his features were clean.
Next he found his backpack. Throwing out the school books he looked around his room for “important things”. Grabbing a couple of books and some pictures he threw them into the pack. Something caught his attention out the window. A neighbor’s house down the block was on fire. People were running in the streets while cars raced by. Thundering down the stairs he jogged into the kitchen looking around for a second. He thought about what he would need. He filled the backpack with as much canned food and bottled water as he could. Now with the heavy laden pack, sword on his back, the extra clip in his pocket and gun in hand he headed to the front door.
He never once looked back into the living room. As he turned the door knob he spoke. “I love you Mom. I love you Reggie. You were the best, I’m sorry. So sorry”, he paused to let one sob shake him. Wes pulled opened the door stepping out into utter chaos.
Get out of Town
Devin stared down to the phone in his hand without really seeing it. He had been trying to get a hold of his wife for the last half hour. His thumb hovered over the call button. He pressed it without thinking about it. He hadn’t been able to reach her the last two dozen times why should this be different?
His attention was drawn back to the traffic cameras. The crowd in central park had grown over the last few minutes. Cars were speeding down the road. The drivers were erratic driving wild with no regard for the pedestrians. There had been several near misses already along with several not misses. Those who got either hit skidding along the pavement or went flailing through the air. The result of each incident was the same. The person would lie motionless for a moment, then get up, or crawl or stumble. Limbs would be at weird angles, legs and arms not working or completely missing. This is what caught Devin’s attention. A car had just flown through the intersection throwing a small person cart wheeling over it.
“Hello? Devin?” He jumped at the sound quickly putting the phone to his ear.
“Cheryl?” Relief flooded over him.
“Devin what is going on?” Her voice was strained holding more than a hint of panic.
He pulled the phone from his ear closing his eyes. His heart ached. Biting his lip he returned the phone to his ear. Fear threatened to overtake him. “Honey listen, and don’t ask questions just do what I say please! Get the girls and get out of town. Go to your mother’s in Altoona.”
“Why what is going on?” She frantically asked.
“Please, just go. Things are going crazy. I want you and the girls out of…” Devin’s attention was drawn back to the central park camera. The phone slowly dropped from his ear. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A car careened around a corner straight into the crowd.
Several people were thrown through the air. Several others in the park fell like dominoes, others sliding across the grass. Just as before they all just got back up like nothing had happened. Except this time they all began to converge on the car. Devin watched as the crowd began attacking the vehicle.
The driver was trying to back up but he didn’t seem to be gaining any traction. Then the wheels found traction. The driver gave it too much gas. The car swerved smashing into a tree. He tried to drive his smoking car through the crowd.
He was driving into a wall of people. They barely moved piling up on the hood or falling under the wheels. Devin half rose from his chair. The phone forgotten in his hand. He cried out when the driver’s window was smashed. There was nothing he could do but watch as the driver was ripped from the car. The passenger door was wrenched open. Someone was trying to run but they overwhelmed by the mass of people who instantly surrounded her.
“Devin! Devin what is going on?” Cheryl cried.
“Oh sweet Mother of Pearl!” Devin exclaimed as he watched the crowd rip the driver and passenger to pieces.
“Devin! What it is? What is going on? Devin answer me!” Cheryl was truly in a state of panic now.
Returning the phone to his ear, “get the girls and get out of town NOW!” Devin yelled as he watched the parts of the passenger being dragged in different directions from the car. Sinking back into a chair he thanked god there was no sound with the picture. Putting his hand to his face he felt drained and defeated.
“Cheryl,
