Wake Up Dead - an Undead Anthology Read online

  Dana looked at Clare with a raised eyebrow. “Really, that’s your plan?”

  “Yes, it’ll work. I saw it on a television show. I’ll be right back.”

  Looking around she found some newspapers, and nothing else. With no way to boil water she could think of, bottled water at room temperature would have to work. As for the umbilical cord, she would chew through it if need be. For God’s sake women had been doing this for thousands of years.

  Walking back to Dana she took a calming breath when she saw Frank talking to her. When she got within hearing distance she noticed he was being nice.

  “Okay, Dana, I’m Frank. How long have you been having the pain?”

  “Every five minutes or so,” she panted.

  “Okay, that’s good, the baby’s going to be here soon, are you ready?”

  “Yeah, where’s Clare?”

  “I’m right here.”

  Placing the papers and bottled water on the ground, she watched as the rough and tough biker turned into a nice guy with a soothing voice and calm demeanour. He led Clare and Dana through the breathing exercises, told Dana when to push, and then all of a sudden he was holding their baby girl.

  He held her at an angle, cleared her throat and waited for her to let out a cry before handing her to Dana. The two women looked down at their daughter in pure awe.

  Frank took out his pocket knife and focused on sterilizing it with his lighter. He looked up cut the cord, tied it off and pressed Dana’s belly so the rest of the placenta would come out.

  Clare looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

  “I was a medic in the army, that’s why strategy isn’t my strong point.”

  Clare looked away, not caring at the moment; she looked down at her daughter.

  “Sydney,” she said.

  “We’re not calling her that.”

  Clare just smiled as she wiped down the baby with one of the shirts from their bag. Then she took off her coat and wrapped the baby in it.

  “We have a family now.” Clare stroked the head of the infant.

  “Yeah we do.” Dana smiled.

  Clare sighed, she loved that smile.

  A banging at the delivery doors on the main floor got their attention. The zombies were breaking through.

  “Dana, let me go see what’s happening, I’ll be right back.”

  Dana didn’t look happy, but nodded.

  Clare stood next to Frank looking out the window. The barricade worked to a degree, it stopped more zombies from approaching the delivery doors, but there were now over a dozen trapped between the barricade and the doors to the warehouse.

  Dana sat in the corner looking at her new baby. Clare pulled out her cell phone, even though there was no reception, the camera still worked. She took a picture of the sweet moment. Then in a moment of impulse she went over and took a picture of the three of them and shoved the phone into Dana’s bag.

  Something told her it was important to commemorate the moment. Clare pushed away the bad feeling to get back to the matter at hand, protecting her family.

  “You know we’re going to have to go out there and fight them to get at the fuel tank, and push the dumpster.” Frank stood there and looked at her as he spoke.

  Clare glanced to her side and was shocked to see Frank. She didn’t think he cared one way or the other.

  “Thanks for helping. I didn’t get a chan-”

  He waved her off. “Whatever, we still need weapons and a plan. I only have two shots left in my gun, and I’d rather save it for later in case we have any other people getting ready to alter among us.”

  Clare thought for a minute then an idea came to her.

  “We’re in a warehouse full of boxes and crates. Create a barrier in here, block access to the upper level, then open the doors and let the zombies in. As they enter, Thomas can sneak out with protection and rig the fuel tank to spray the other zombies with gas behind the barricade. Then we light them up, easy.”

  “Assuming he agrees to do it and doesn’t wuss out.”

  “He won’t, another group needs to push the dumpster at the same time so it blocks any other zombies from entering the loading area. Those left will be responsible for doing whatever they can to kill the infected that enter the warehouse, we use the chains to trip them , piping to hit them, anything we can to get them down and crush their heads.”

  “Might work, but you’re assuming a lot about these people, not all of them are going to be willing to get their hands dirty, let alone risk their lives.”

  Clare knew he was right. She hoped the others here wanted to survive as much as she did.

  “I need to talk to Dana then I’ll talk to them. I have a feeling they’ll be more receptive to me than you.”

  Clare sat next to Dana and put an arm around her, using her other hand to touch the cheek of their little girl.

  “How is baby, Sydney?”

  “We’re not calling her that, Thistle is fine.”

  “You’ll give in, but I need to do something so we’re safe.”

  “I don’t like it, whatever it is I say no. I won’t lose you,” Dana said in a soft voice.

  “Honey, I need to do this. Those loading doors aren’t going to hold. I have a plan, and Frank’s going to help. It should buy us enough time until reinforcements arrive.”

  Dana looked at her wife of four years.

  “Clare, I love you more than anything, and understand you need to do this, but promise you’ll come back to me.”

  Clare looked into the eyes of her wife, partner, and soul mate. The woman who’d given her life meaning and purpose. She’d never lied to her, and this situation was no different.

  “Dana, I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you and our baby safe. I love you.”

  Leaning over she gave Dana a passionate kiss. Then looked down at their daughter and kissed her on the forehead.

  Clare spoke to the baby in Dana’s arms. “Sydney watch, she’ll give in.”

  Dana smirked. “Can you say mama, Rootberry?”

  Clare snorted, and then was up and walking down the stairs before Dana could stop her. She found Frank with his bike, a haunted look on his face.

  “You okay?” Frank, the only one who knew how to use a gun, couldn’t get a case of the nerves now.

  “Fine.”

  “I’m going to get everyone together and go over the plan.”

  Clare gathered the majority of the group downstairs and went over the plan. She made it voluntary; happy to see only five went back upstairs.

  They set up as much of an interior barricade as possible, and blocked off the stairs to the upper level. Everyone was armed with some sort of weapon, it was time.

  *

  Clare nodded and Frank lifted the handle releasing the delivery doors. As the zombies swarmed inside, the first wave tripped on the chains and bits of debris laid out. One of the survivors swung their length of pipe with deadly accuracy. Heads were cracked, and in one case lobbed across the room.

  Crates from above were dropped and crushed some of the incoming horde. Those still moving were taken care of with pieces of lumber, and boot covered feet. As the chaos expanded in the warehouse, the rest of the survivors moved out into the loading area to do their job.

  Thomas ran outside with Frank and a couple of the others. The teenager worked at rigging the fuel tank to expel the fuel in a specific direction using some hose and other bits he picked up.

  The others moved the dumpster and took out a few zombies while they were at it. The hole had been blocked, but the zombies trapped by the barricade now attacked them.

  “Hurry up kid, we have to go,” Frank yelled.

  “Just a second.”

  Frank hacked at the zombies, the others fought alongside him swinging bats and pipes, trying to get in as many blows to the head as they could. Frank brought his knife down on a zombie splitting its head open. Brain matter oozed out as the body fell limply to the ground. A man next to him used a board to smack
the face of a woman, teeth and bone flew everywhere.

  Another volunteer used a broken pipe piece on the head of one of the zombies. Nothing happened, the zombie still stood, looking at the man. Within seconds he was swarmed, screaming as they tore his arms off and dug into his stomach eating him as he watched.

  The ground covered in bloody bits and gore; various internal organs caused people to slip. In a rush of rage one of the members of the group ran towards the zombies and jammed a shard of glass in its head. The surrounding zombies took him down immediately. A good distraction Frank used to his advantage.

  Using his knife, he severed the heads of two zombies and lopped off a few arms. Rancid liquid sprayed everywhere, but missed Frank. He turned when one of the survivors went down screaming, zombies tearing him apart, his stomach torn open by hungry mouths, blood flowing freely in a large pool beneath the body.

  Finally, Thomas yelled to them, it was ready. Frank held off the zombies as the others made their way inside.

  *

  Clare surveyed the inside. All the zombies were dead. Brain matter and large puddles of rancid smelling black ooze were everywhere. People did their best to avoid stepping in it.

  She saw Frank outside, severely outnumbered.

  Running to him, she started to help fight the zombies. “Time to go in, Frank.”

  “I’m not going in, get the hell out of here.”

  Clare felt a searing pain in her arm as she opened her mouth to respond. Looking over she saw a zombie biting her. She brought down the pipe on its head weakly. The zombie tore a large chunk of her forearm off and began to chew greedily.

  “Frank, you need to go in.”

  Frank looked over at Clare, she saw him focus on the bite.

  “Why the hell did you come out here for me dammit?” his voice strained.

  Clare knew there were precious moments left before they would all die.

  “Frank, protect my family. I trust you to do that. Tell Dana I’m sorry, and I love her.” Clare was already sweating.

  “No, I’m not--”

  “Get out of here, I’m going to take some of these bastards with me.” Clare tried to smile, but it didn’t hide the pain.

  “I’ll take care of them. I promise.” he said.

  *

  Frank handed her his knife, then turned away with tears in his eyes. He looked up and thankfully did not see Dana in the window above. As fast as he could, he ran back into the warehouse, hit the lever to shut the door, and felt the explosion as the fuel tank started to spew the ignited gas. He let out a howl of rage.

  Even with all the heat outside the doors, Frank felt nothing but cold. A roar went up from the people in the warehouse, they’d been successful. No more zombies could enter the loading area, the ones out there were crispy critters, and the ones which entered the warehouse were taken care of.

  Frank looked up and saw Dana standing at the top of the stairs. Tears streamed down her face.

  *

  Dana sat on the porch; it was a beautiful day out. On the table next to her was a bouquet of roses. She heard the soft patter of feet and knew her daughter was coming.

  “Mommy, when is Uncle Frank going to get here? Isn’t today movie day then pizza night?”

  “Yes it is, and he’ll be here soon, Sydney, don’t worry.” As soon as she spoke the words a car pulled up.

  A tall man dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt got out. Grabbing something from the back of the car he walked up to the house.

  “Hi, Frank.” Dana watched as her daughter launched herself at him like a rocket.

  “Oomph, hi, Sydney, Dana. How are you two beautiful girls doing?”

  “Are we going to watch a movie?”

  “Of course,” Frank said as he smiled at the little girl.

  Both adults chuckled as Sydney ran inside. Frank sat in the chair next to Dana and handed her a bouquet of carnations.

  “From me, you know what to say when you see her.” Dana nodded her head and watched as Frank stood and entered the house.

  *

  Frank saw the little girl sitting on the couch and smiled.

  “Popcorn?” Sydney nodded her head enthusiastically.

  Walking down the hallway into the kitchen he saw pictures of Clare and Dana before everything happened, they were truly happy. The last picture was one of them in the warehouse after Sydney was born. After that, only pictures of Dana and Sydney, with Frank included occasionally. A few tears fell as he prepared the bag of popcorn.

  He still blamed himself, it was sad it took a near apocalypse for him to remember how to be human again. He would never forgive himself for Clare’s death, but he would keep his promise.

  *

  Dana waited until she heard them start the movie before she left. Grabbing both bouquets of flowers she got into the car and headed to Pleasant Valley Cemetery.

  Sitting in front of the gravestone, Dana felt the hole in her heart. Looking down she read what Clare requested be put on her gravestone, “I’m still a breast woman.”, and she let out a half laugh half cry.

  Kneeling she put the flowers on top of the gravestone and traced Clare’s name with her fingers.

  “Frank says hi, and wants you to know he’s keeping his promise. He’s even starting to enjoy life again, though he’ll never admit it.” Dana cleared a bit of dirt away. “Sydney’s five now, and stop grinning, you knew I was going to give in.” Dana let the tears fall freely.

  “I used to be mad at you. This date is the best and worst day of my life. Sydney was born, but you died. I know you were protecting us, but it still hurts.”

  Dana looked around at other mourners. Many people came here on this day; thousands of lives lost to the virus.

  “I miss you, and think of you all the time.”

  Standing up Dana cleared up some debris from the top of the gravestone, leaving her hand on it for a moment longer. With the tears at a minimum, she spoke one last time.

  “Love you, see you next year.”

  EUTHANASIA

  Chantal Boudreau

  When Skye stepped out of her front door early that morning, she was met by the irritated gaze of her next-door neighbour. Skye knew what that was all about. She had confronted Mrs. Blanchford’s eldest son the night before when she had caught him taking pot-shots at raccoons with his BB gun in the backyard, and the older woman was not happy about that.

  That was one of the problems with living in a subdivision – shared backyards. Skye often found herself at odds with her neighbours over the presence of her own animals. They objected to the fact that she kept as many as she did; four cats, two dogs, a rabbit and a snake, not to mention the occasional creature that she would foster for Strays to Stay, the no-kill shelter where she worked. Well, “worked” was an understatement. Skye was obsessed with the shelter’s cause and she was prone to go much farther than the regular demands of her job. She nurtured their charges in every way and championed their cause, but it was all done out of love. She could not bear to see an animal homeless or suffering. That was why she had lit into the neighbour’s son, concerned that he would do real harm to the raccoons.

  “He was just trying to scare them off, Ms. Henshaw. Those nasty things were into the garbage and spreading their filth. It’s not safe to have them scavenging in the backyard. Some of them carry rabies you know. Besides, it wasn’t as if Shaun were shooting at them with real bullets,” the shrewish woman said, somewhat shrilly.

  Skye shook her head and sighed.

  “Those creatures have as much of a right to exist here and attempt to survive as we do. The pellets may not kill the raccoons the way that a bullet would, but it’s still cruel. He could have put one of their eyes out, or embedded a pellet under their skin, causing infection and slow death. If he wanted to chase them off, all he needed to do was make a lot of noise and shine some light wherever they were. They would’ve scattered.”

  Mrs. Blanchford scowled.

  “I somehow doubt a little light would’ve
done any good. Those little monsters don’t scare easy; they’re brazen. And as for noise, it was after eleven and the Schusters would have already put their little ones to bed. I swear, Ms. Henshaw, that you care more about those wretched animals than the people who live around you,” she sniped, and with that, she turned on her heel and stomped back into her house.

  “Maybe that’s because the wretched animals deserve it,” Skye mumbled, pushing her frizzy strawberry blond hair out of her face.

  None of the inhabitants in the neighbourhood were without their flaws. Mrs. Blanchford was a gossip who had her nose in everyone’s business. The Schusters were the negligent type who never sorted the compost or recycling out of their garbage and let their children run amuck. Skye could name a point of contention for everyone who lived in the near hereabouts, and she was sure that they all took issue with her as well.

  Muttering unhappy thoughts under her breath, she continued on her path to her car. She was the only one in a five block radius who owned a compact hybrid, and she had been forced to make several personal sacrifices because of the upfront costs involved. Of course, the majority of her neighbours owned minivans or SUVs – horrible wasteful gas-guzzlers. Skye never heard the end of complaints about the rising price of gas. Serves them right, she would think, for their destructive status-based indulgences.

  As she opened the car door, Skye glanced up at the sky overhead. Not a cloud in sight, and she was running low on sunscreen. She had light hair, pale blue eyes and the fair skin that burned and freckled easily to match. Summer was rapidly approaching, and she would have to protect that skin, or pay the price. It would mean a trip to the drugstore at some point during the day.

  She slid behind the steering wheel and dropped her woven-hemp purse on the passenger seat beside her. Before pulling out of her driveway, she turned on the radio to listen to the morning news. The announcer was in mid-story.

  “...This is the third body found in Capstick Park in as many months. Each are believed to have been stored elsewhere before dumping, because of their desiccated appearance. Forensic experts suggest that it must have been somewhere hot and dry to result in that level of dehydration. The current victim has been identified as Marguerite Crawley, known to her friends as ‘Mags’. Police have confirmed that she did have a record for solicitation, similar to the first two victims, and authorities are concerned that the city may have a serial killer to contend with...”