Waiting to Die ~ A Zombie Novel by Richard M. Cochran Page A

snapping as they try to squeeze
their way through. Torn clothes hang loosely through the gate, flapping in a
gentle breeze like seaweed swaying in the current beneath the ocean.
    A knot forms in Johnny’s throat
and he tries to swallow it down. His skin tingles with fear as he watches the
writhing mass heave and concave through the bars. His heart sinks as he returns
to April.
    The look on her face nearly
drops him to his knees. He can see the hope shifting across her illuminated
eyes, radiated by the moonlight through the main door.
    “We’re not getting out,” he
says.
    “What?” she asks.
    “We’re not getting out,” he
repeats. “They’ve surrounded us.”
    “What do you mean?” she says in
a panic and rushes past him to the door.
    Through the glass, April
witnesses the same thing that had sunk Johnny’s heart. A feeling of
hopelessness overwhelms her as tears streak her face. She returns to Johnny
with a helpless scowl stenciled across her mouth. She clenches her jaw, trying
not to let it out, trying to keep her emotions in check, but she shivers when
she sees the same look of desperation coming from Johnny. She reaches out and
he catches her, pulls her closer and lets her cry.

 
     
    ·8
     
     
     
    Jacob watches the child as she
reads through her book. He’s settled in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and a
forlorn look on his face. He’s not sure how to explain what has happened to the
girl, can’t quite make the words fit together in a way that she would
understand. It is hard enough for his adult mind to register, let alone that of
a child.
    He can’t imagine what she’s
seen. He can’t even begin to imagine what she has been through. Looking at her
now as she pans through the pictures, page by page, he just can’t bring himself
to interrupt her moment of reprieve. She seems so peaceful when she’s awake, so
calm and understanding. But at night, when she awakens, whimpering from her
nightmares, Jacob knows exactly what shadows lurk inside her.
    He pushes the mug away from
himself and stands, using his cane to guide the way. Through the kitchen
window, he looks out into the garden. The block wall that surrounds the property
is firm and resolute as it keeps the demons away. They stand so tall that he
can’t even see the withered hands that he knows are there, clawing, reaching ever
upward, trying to get inside.
    Sometimes the dead moan and
grate their teeth when they hear something of interest on the other side. When
Jacob tends to the garden, they know he’s there. Every sound he makes sends
them into a fury. But, when he’s quiet and his granddaughter is in the house,
calm and distracted, the dead go away, lingering just beyond the walls, doing
whatever it is that the dead do when they’re not trying to kill. But with even
the slightest sound, they can linger for days, unfazed and resolute to drag
their fingers over the course brick outside until only worn stubs remain.
    With the beach so close, he has
thought many times of running to the docks and finding a boat that he and his
granddaughter could escape on. Maybe they could make it out on the ocean,
living off of the sea until whatever it is that has made the dead return to
life finally goes away. He’s even thought of heading east, going into the
mountains and living in solitude, but he’s afraid that his tired legs wouldn’t
make it. He can’t afford to leave the child by herself if anything were to
happen to him.
    With tired and cramping hands,
he pulls the snapshot from his pocket. He scribbles on the back of the picture
and tucks it into one of her books, hoping that one day, if he was no longer
around, she would find peace in what he wrote.
    With the dead wandering, he
bides his time - only going out to find other survivors that may be able to
help and to bring supplies to the boat. He scavenges the beaches with Emma for
anything of use when the dead wander off. Even with his arthritis, he can
manage to evade them if he has