Apocalypsis Immortuos | Book 2 | Concurrence, page 14
part #2 of Apocalypsis Immortuos Series
BANG.
The screen door slammed shut behind him.
“Sorry!” he yelled over his shoulder as he sped down the steps and towards the screams. Q was more curious than scared. Domestic violence happened all the time in Verde Acres, but this sounded pretty severe.
It was coming from the next street. He ran past a man dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and boxer shorts, who was obviously also headed to the disturbance. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man flash his arm out at him, or so he thought.
Sorry, old man. I got no time for you. Q kept running.
There, he thought excitedly as he saw a commotion up ahead. It looked like several people were fighting right on the front lawn. He noticed several more people heading towards the disturbance and hoped they didn’t break it up before he got there. Some of the brawls in this neighborhood were legendary.
He skidded to a stop in front of the house. It took his mind a moment to register what he was seeing. A woman was lying facedown on the driveway; blood leaked from her head and traveled in small rivulets towards Q’s runners. Another person was literally getting pounded in the middle of the yard by several people, including an elderly lady, a young woman and a guy with a huge knife sticking out of his chest. Q couldn’t believe his eyes. This guy should be dead, yet there he was, swinging his fists like an angry toddler.
An angry toddler with the strength of a full-grown man, Q corrected when he saw the damage being done.
They continued to swing wildly at the feebly struggling form, hitting each other as often as their target. They were on their knees and kept pounding on the body even though the person had stopped struggling. One of them, the younger woman, lunged in with a wide-open mouth, intending to bite the victim, just as the old lady swung her fist.
Q heard the tiniest popping sound as the old woman caught the other woman in the eye.
An involuntary grunt escaped Q’s mouth as he saw the source of that popping sound. It was her eye, a chunk of which was now torn out of the woman’s socket. Another grunt escaped him as he saw that she was looking directly at him.
Q gasped in shock as the assailants stopped their attack immediately, and all looked straight at him.
“What the...?” he muttered. He was momentarily transfixed by those crazed stares.
Until they started getting to their feet. That broke Q’s paralysis, and he backed up a step. Then another — never taking his eyes off the three figures now shuffling towards him.
Q took another step and lost his balance as he stepped off the curb. He wind-milled his arms and legs before landing hard on his backside. Adrenaline had set in, and he crab-walked several yards away. His eyes were glued to the three people coming towards him. They had reached the edge of the yard.
A smack behind him made him look over his shoulder to see another person falling face-first into the pavement. It was a chubby man who lifted his face off the pavement and stared at Q with impossibly wide eyes. A large piece of his cheek was missing, and it looked like his jaw was broken, yet the guy did not utter a sound. He immediately started getting to his hands and knees.
“N-No.” Q couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
He caught more movement and saw the guy in the boxer shorts he had passed earlier. This man, too, seemed possessed. He stepped onto the street with his mouth gaping in a silent scream.
You’ve got to go! Q’s mind yelled at him, yet he was frozen in fear.
You got to get out of here! Q’s mind screamed as two of the three freaks stepped on to the road.
GET UP! GET OUT! Q’s mind screeched as the chubby zombie crawled closer and reached out for him.
“What the fuck is going on here?”
A man had shown up. His yell snapped Q out of his paralysis. He rolled over, away from the chubby guy, hopped onto his feet, and ran to the far curb.
“Enzo! Are you OK? Sue? What are you doing?” the man called as one of the zombies peeled away from chasing Q.
“Yo, dude!” Q called. He added, recognizing the man, “Carlos, get the fuck away from them! These guys are crazy! They killed those people.”
But it was too late. Carlos had already walked up to “Sue.” She lunged at him, and the two went down. Boxer-shorts guy got there next. Carlos kicked boxer-shorts guy, catching him full-on in the nuts. The guy ignored the kick and body-slammed into Carlos. Q watched in horror as he and “Sue” flailed at their prey.
Yet Q had other things to worry about. The woman with the torn-out eye was stumbling towards him, followed by “Enzo.” The chubby guy had also gotten to his feet and was mere yards away from him.
Q yelped and backed into a front yard. He looked in the direction of his house. The chubby guy had cut him off. Q felt the cold tickle of fear creep up his spine as the other freaks backed him further into the front yard.
Then instinct took over and he ran for it. He ran past chubby guy, who lunged and fell to the ground behind Q. He sprinted towards the low hedge that separated the yard from the neighbor’s and leapt. Catching the top of the hedge with one foot, he crashed onto the grass of the next yard with a scream.
No time to figure out whether he was hurt. He jumped to his feet and ran to the sidewalk. There was nothing between him and Shady Lane, so he sprinted away. Carlos’ screams chased him down the street.
Q ran home as fast as he could. Rushing past his front yard, he lunged onto the porch, nearly slamming into the wall of his house. He spun around and looked in all directions.
Nothing moved. Nobody had chased him to his house. He took a stuttering breath and forced himself to calm down. He opened the screen door and shut it, along with the front door. Q locked the door and put his back against it. It was only after his third deep breath that he realized something was wrong.
There was a banging noise coming from his parents’ room. As if his parents were moving furniture around or something.
“Mom?” Q called out tentatively.
The sound of movement intensified. Q walked to his parents’ bedroom door and reached for the door handle. He frowned for a second as all noise stopped. It was suddenly quiet as death.
Q grabbed the handle, turned it, and pushed the door open. “Mom? Dad?”
Something slammed into the door from the other side, knocking Q backwards into the opposite wall. Luckily, he managed to stay on his feet. The impact stunned him for a moment, and all he could do was watch as fingers reached around the edge of the door and it started to open.
The door was pulled open, revealing his mother’s face glaring at him with a horrific intensity. Her jaw hung wide in a macabre version of a yawn.
“Mom?”
But her only response was to lunge at him.
A lucky thing happened then, as another body slammed into the partially open door. It caught Q’s mom and she lost her balance, crashing to the ground halfway out. She fell awkwardly, and Q clearly heard a pop as her shoulder dislocated. The woman seemed oblivious to any pain and immediately reached for Q with her other arm. Her fingertips scratched at Q’s jeans.
“Get off!” He danced away from her hand.
It all became clear to Q in that moment: People were possessed. So were his parents. He needed to escape.
Unfortunately, he had moved further down the hallway instead of towards the exit. His mom struggled to pull herself into the hallway. Then his dad entered the fray. He opened the bedroom door and promptly tripped over his wife’s squirming body, but not before Q saw the same crazy look in his eyes.
“Dad...”
Q backed up a step, his hand against the wall to steady himself as what was left of his father lifted his head. His face was covered in scratches. He’d been in a fight. A bad one.
His dad put his hands out to pick himself up. Q could see the missing fingers and gasped at the horrific sight. He took another step back. Both his parents were getting to their feet. His hand felt the door frame of his own bedroom door to the right. He didn’t think twice; he pushed through his door and slammed it shut behind him. A second later, he felt the first impact.
“MOM!” Q screamed from his side of the door, putting his back into the wooden portal. “Mom, please!”
The pounding on his door continued, the door rocking slightly at every impact.
Q looked around in a panic, searching for anything he could use to block the door. There was nothing. He cried out in despair while his parents redoubled their efforts to get in. Sliding down, he sat with his back against the door, his legs splayed out in front of him.
“Please! ... MOM!” Q’s voice cracked as he screamed. He was in the grip of pure panic, feeling the door rock at every blow. He knew that the door was not going to hold for long.
Again, he looked around his room desperately.
The closet?
The wooden sliding doors were flimsy, and Q discarded the idea almost immediately. He considered crawling under the bed and even hiding under the covers but abandoned those options as well.
In the end, it wasn’t what he could see but what he could smell that offered him hope. The scent of herbs drifted in through his open window. Q knew instantly that the window would be his only means of escape. As if to spur him on, the combined impact of his parents against the door caused a loud cracking noise.
Q leapt to his feet, hopped onto his bed, and pulled the sliding window open just as the door behind him flew inward on its hinges and his father fell to the ground inside his room. Q fumbled with the bug screen, his fingers slipping off the little lip twice as he tried to dislodge it.
Then his mom fell onto the bed. Q launched himself at the screen. The screen gave way more easily than he had anticipated, and Q fell through the aperture. He landed with a thud into the herb garden. Q groaned in pain and rolled away, crushing herbs with his body as he went.
He got to his feet shakily, just as his mother’s face appeared in the window. She leaned through and hung balanced on the frame for a moment before falling.
The sickening crack of bones echoed as she fell headfirst into an ungainly heap. He looked in shock as her body finally settled onto the very herb garden that had been her pride and joy. Her neck had snapped, and her head was lying at an awful angle.
“Oh no. Mom!”
Q took an involuntary step forward, then stopped. His mom was still tracking him with those wide-open eyes. It freaked him out; with a yelp, he jumped backward.
Seeing his father’s hand clutch the window frame above him spurred him into action. He ran. Their house did not have a gate separating the front and back yard, so Q rounded the house at a full sprint.
And collided with another person. Q yelped and spun away, rolling on the grass of his front lawn. The other person had also gone down. Q did not wait to see if the other person was OK — or even possessed — but instead ran to the sidewalk. He eyed his father’s truck longingly but knew that the keys were inside the house.
There was no way that he was going back in there.
The noise he had been making had attracted more possessed people. Q counted at least half a dozen shapes lumbering towards his house. One stepped around the truck and was close enough to lunge at him.
Q squealed, dodged back, and just ran.
At first, he ran in a blind panic. First one way, then the other, as possessed people seemed to be everywhere. His only saving grace was that he wasn’t the only one screaming and running.
Nevertheless, Q tired himself out quickly and was forced to take a short break. Looking up, he saw the open countryside, just past the next set of houses. Q instantly decided that he needed to get out of Verde Acres and away from those freaks. Those possessed souls.
Zombies! They’re fucking zombies! Q forced himself to acknowledge it, remembering the guy with the knife sticking out of his chest. And his own mother, lying in a broken heap...
Get the fuck out of here, Q reminded himself.
He ran to the row of houses which now faced him ominously. He knew that some of them would harbor zombies. They might be looking at him right now.
Several people were screaming from other sections of the neighborhood. He caught movement as a zombie in the distance made a beeline for the source of those sounds. The zombies back in the street had not reacted to him until he had made a noise, and he realized it was sound that attracted them.
Q ran stealthily to the first house. This place also had no gate separating the front and back yard. He darted around the side and poked his head around the back. Unsurprisingly, it was another backyard farm. There were lots of tall plants, and Q couldn’t see very far into the yard.
Corn to the left, sunflowers to the right, and what was that behind the sunflowers? Hemp?
Doesn’t matter. You’ve got to get to the other side. Q forced himself to move. He walked between the corn plants. The stalks stuck out just above his head. Ears of corn swayed slightly in the last of the morning’s chill gusts of wind.
That same wind brought a cloying and familiar scent to Q’s nose. Something was rotting. He tripped the moment the thought occurred to him. Q managed to keep himself from crying out as he landed in the dirt. A shocked gasp escaped his mouth when he looked back at what he had tripped over.
It was a dog. Dead several days. The body had bloated. Birds or bugs must have been at it, for it stared back at Q with eyeless, lidless sockets.
Q forced himself back to his feet. He froze after one step, hearing something or somebody else moving around in the yard. Only the greens and browns of plants and dirt met his terrified eyes. Q took another step, and immediately the movement resumed. It was coming closer.
Fuck this shit!
He faced what he thought was the back of the yard and the open grazing fields beyond and ran. There was a flash of sound and movement off to his right, but he was well out of reach. He quickly saw the edge of the corn field.
An open sky beckoned him, and he started to grin.
It felt kind of like being chased by teachers, or cops, or his dad. The thrill invigorated him, and he laughed out loud as he ran.
“Fuck you, mother fucke—”
His whole body came to a sudden stop mid-stride and he was flung backward. He landed hard on his back, taking down several corn stalks as he fell. His chest constricted with a massive cramp as he had the wind knocked out of him. He spurted and sputtered, trying to get oxygen into his body and finally rolling onto his side as the feeling subsided.
His first gulp of breath was greedy. He wiped the tears from his eyes and opened them wide as he realized he was not alone. A set of boots stood before him. He looked up, slowly, as if the zombie standing there would not attack until their eyes met.
It was a little girl. No more than five or six years old. Alive.
“You said a bad word,” the girl said, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Uh,” Q grunted as he got himself into a sitting position. “You scared me.”
The little girl stayed rooted in place. Her large eyes regarded Q with curiosity but also fear.
“You broke Papa’s plants,” she said accusingly.
“Yeah. Sorry,” Q responded before inspecting the barrier he had run into. He muttered aloud. “Chicken wire. Secured really well.”
The wire was wrapped around a solid-looking post. He checked his body, amazed that he had not cut himself on the chicken wire. After a moment, he got up from the ground and stood over the little girl.
“You should go inside. It’s dangerous out here,” he told her.
She shook her head solemnly. “No. Mama pushed me out. She said that Papa was sick. She said, ‘Get away from here! Go to Auntie Mikaela’s.’” She mimicked her mom right down to the panic in the tone. Dropping her gaze, she kicked at the dirt with her boot. “Only, I don’t know how to get to Auntie Mikaela’s house. I tried, but just didn’t remember which way to go. And there were strange people on the road. I got scared.” Her bottom lip stuck out and the girl started to tremble.
“Hey. Hey, it’s OK.”
She looked up at Q with her tear-filled eyes. “I don’t want to go to Auntie Mikaela’s house. I want my mama!” She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. “Can you go ask mama if I can come back in? I promise to be good.”
The poor girl had no idea what was going on. “I will go take a look,” Q promised.
The girl looked unconvinced.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“I’m not supposed to tell you. You’re a stranger.”
“Hmm. Yeah, that’s right. Good thinking,” Q said with a smile. “I’m Quentin. You can call me Q.”
“OK,” the girl said uncertainly.
“Well, now we’re not strangers anymore. So, what’s your name?”
She pondered that for a moment. Then nodded. “My name is Angelica. Mama calls me Angel.”
Again, Q tried to smile reassuringly at the young girl. In the meantime, his mind was going a million miles an hour.
Do I leave her? Should I go check on her parents? Should I take her with me?
All the while, the little girl just looked up at him. He knew that he couldn’t just leave her behind.
Q forced more reassurance into his smile. “I’m going to call you Angel, too. Hey, how about I go see your mama? Make sure everything is OK? Do you think you can stay here and wait for me?”
“No!” The girl’s expression turned angry. “I want to come!” Tears brimmed once more in her eyes.
“All right, Angel. Fine. Let’s go together.” He took the girl’s proffered hand and they stepped back through the garden to the back of the house.
The left the perceived safety that the corn plants provided and stepped out into daylight. The back of the house loomed up ahead. Q had a moment of recognition. This house looked exactly like his own. His eyes automatically drifted to what would be the window to his bedroom. He shook his head, knowing that he shouldn’t be surprised. All houses in Verde Acres were pretty much the same.
It felt surreal, nonetheless.
They crept up to the back door. In the distance, they could hear people screaming and the screech of a car as it sped off.
