Invertigo

“Riley get away from that!”

In a long drawn out childish voice Riley answered back, “But mom, I was just gonna-“

“Did you not just hear what I said? Get away from the TV! You’ll go blind.”

“I was just gonna-“

“I don’t want to hear it Riley! Sit back a little.”

Riley began to whimper and cry as most children do when a firm tone of voice tells them what to do. Janet, being a teacher and a single mom, had no problem with ignoring this manipulation method that children often use. But today she gave him a bowl full of animal crackers from the kitchen. The colorful plastic bowl was almost as bright as the smile on Riley’s face, almost.

“Can I have some too mom?” his older sister asked politely.

“May I have some- you mean. And yes you may”

Riley gave a possessive shout, “No! These are mine.” And with that he pulled the animal crackers far from anyone’s reach, especially his sister Michelle. But his sister was already handed her own small plastic bowl of crackers.

It was early Saturday morning and the cartoons were on the living room television. The front windows were wide open to let in the sun. The leaves on the trees had just began to show some signs of the coming cold season. Though it was still warm outside the flu season had gotten an early start. Many of the children from Janet’s classes had been at home sick all week long but she considered herself fortunate that her children were still in perfect health. It seemed that her children caught everything her students had within a week.

Janet sat down on the same couch Michelle was on and began to read her horoscope in the newspaper. When she first subscribed to the paper she read every article at her discretion but over time she seemed to care less and less about the endless ranting of people paid to write. Not necessarily about the news, but about anything. Political opinions, advertisements and sports made up the bulk of the paper. Her horoscope and the front page were the only things that grabbed her attention these days.

Scorpio – Look out for financial troubles heading your way. Don’t let friends and loved ones manipulate you. Your imagination and heart are in the right place. Stay focused on the future and you’ll always land on your feet.

Janet always loved how vague and all-encompassing the horoscope was. And the simple fact that she read it everyday gave them enough of a chance to one day be true.

“Can we go the …playground today mom? I want to ride on the tire …swings.” Riley asked with overly excited inhales breaking into his question. He had been thinking of the swings since he woke up and so desperately wanted to spin around and around until he got dizzy. And the new playground at the kindergarten he was at had just recently had the gravel replaced with rubber tire shavings. He had no idea what the stuff was but he thought it was amazing.

Janet was now juggling a few errands around in her head. She had to go grocery shopping, buy new shoes for herself and go to the bank and pay some bills. The kids loved the park and in a matter of minutes they could be on their way.

“We should go as soon as you both finish your cookies. Then were going out for a car ride cause mommy has to get some things done today.”

They eagerly finished the few remaining cookies and watched the last bit of their show and then they were off to their rooms changing out of their pajamas. By the time they were ready to go Janet had organized her bills and grocery list like she always did in because she suffered from an acute case of OCD. As they were about to leave through the garage Janet realized that the TV was still on and went back to turn it off. She didn’t care to notice that the cartoons had been taken over by the local news channel. Just as the transition was about to occur between the news reporter at a desk to an on the scene account of “something” Janet turned off the TV. She had no time for the pretentiousness of mediocre news reported by the people who wanted her to stay tuned long enough for the commercials to come back on. It was probably nothing more than a fire or a car accident. Off the TV went and out the door they left to enjoy some time in the park.


The kids were fastened into their seats. The music that the kids loved to listen to was on. They liked the beach boys and knew the words to mostly all of the songs. Right now it was “Surfer Girl” playing and in the passenger seat Michelle flailed her arms around a little to fast for the calm rhythm while Riley was in the back smashing two of his toys together and screaming the wrong words to the song.

The words, “MY WIDDLE SUFRA BURL!” screamed with such enthusiasm were all it took to put Janet in a state of complete pride.

They had just finished with their time at the park and now they were on their way to the shoe store. Janet was not looking forward to picking out new shoes while maintaining her precious monkeys. Most likely they would make a mess for the shoe sales people to clean up. It was hard being a single mom with the world as busy as it was. Struggle as she may her every endeavor was for her children, whether she failed or succeeded it was well worth the daily effort.

Janet and her husband went their separate ways when he found a job in another city as a psychologist. It paid well and kept him busy most of the year but on the holidays they all still got together and celebrated like a family. There was no bad blood between Janet and Ross but at the same time the separation created several problems in the family. Riley and Michelle went without a male role model in the house and at times the extra help would have been appreciated. Janet herself was occasionally lonely, but thoughts like that were few and far between since the children kept her so busy. And since Ross and Janet were knowledgeable child psychology they were wary of future problems and agreed to back each other up on important issues the children would run into. But as far as they could tell the children were adapting to the change well and were very well adjusted kids.

At the shoe store were some shoes that immediately caught Janet’s attention right in front of the entrance. Being a practical woman she asked one of the sales people for the shoe in her size. The young sales person who doubled as a clerk scurried off into the back room and disappeared for a good three minutes. Michelle and Riley were off trying on shoes in the kids foot wear department which was in clear view of Janet. At the moment Michelle was trying to teach Riley how to tie a shoe lace while Riley was more interested in the blinking lights on the back of his shoes. When the sales attendant came back out covered in sweat and the right pair of shoes in hand Janet bought them right away. Thankful that it hadn’t taken all that long and the price was reasonable. Gathering up the kids she noticed that the clerk did not look so well and made a comment that he should make a call to his boss and take a sick day.

“I got a lot of dept to pay off this month-“ A wheezy cough or two interrupted, “no rest for the wicked.” He smiled a gaunt smile and looked noticeably creepier than she had previously noticed.

“Have a nice day.” Janet perked, trying to seem unnerved by him. Her and the kids held hands and left abruptly.


The key entered the metallic keyhole and clicked as it locked. The sound seemed to echo across eons and ages, across the seas of space and time. The scent of the perfumed shampoo of the last customer hung heavily in the air. He moved his hand through the air and tried to grab it. It wafted and juggled around a dozen other smells. The plastic and the leather and the glue of shoes. The shoe boxes, shoe polish the carpet and the air itself. It was a sensory explosion the likes of which no one should ever be exposed to. Every thread in his company branded shirt could be felt scratching his skin. It was an oddly pleasing feeling. He had never felt anything like it. It was all very disorienting. And now with each step he could feel the sweat on his brow grow cold and the sweat in his shoes, between his toes almost squeaked. He stumbled to the till. He wondered if someone slipped him some acid or some sort of drug but there was a lot of doubt attached to that issue. Oh, the issue. And it felt good to scratch his arm where the threads of his shirt felt like burlap.

He turned around and decided to close up the store because he was clearly under the weather. The key echoed through out the world as it entered the keyhole and then he forgot that he was about to cash out. Leaving the keys in the door he stumbled over to the men’s shoe section and opened up a shoebox and didn’t like the shoes. He dropped the box and sat down and waited for help on one of the many mirrored service chairs. The burlap shirt was getting unbearable so he took it off. He could smell himself more than anything now. The sweat and deodorant, the hair gel and his skin. He could actually smell himself. He breathed in and out as if to say, “oh no.” and threw up all over the toppled box of shoes he left on the floor.


Parking at the supermarket was outrageous. Janet tried to find a place to park and was forced to park across the street in a different lot entirely. It was hard to imagine a reason for so many people to grocery shop on the same day but then again perhaps there was a sale or a promotion on.

As they entered the store the kids and her felt a little uneasy at the sight. It wasn’t normal to see so many people running this way and that, gathering together food of any sort. The line ups almost went to the back of the store. Hell, there was even a line up to shop. It was a mandatory swarm they almost got caught up in. Janet held onto her kids hands tightly and turned back around and forced her way out of the store. Some people were running out with fruit and cans dropping from their arms, stolen to be sure.

“What’s going on?” she asked an older man in his late fifties with a back pack on.

“Get away from the here with those kids. They’ll get hurt in there. Get away from this place.” And with that he pushed her aside and charged into the store and disappeared.

“Why? What is all this-“ She was panicking now. Not being one to waste time when action was needed she picked up both of her kids and shuffled as fast as she could back to her car. Riley was crying and Michelle was clearly worried and too scared to ask questions. The best she could work out was a meek generalization of concern.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, I know Michelle. We’re just going to go home. We’ll just get in the car, put on our seat belts and go straight home. There’s nothing to worry about, mommy’s got it all under control. OK?”

With that reassurance Riley felt a little better but certainly didn’t show it. He continued to cry until they left the parking lot at which point he had petered off to a monotone mumble. The ride home was uneventful aside from there being more cars on the road than usual. It was by no means backed up or grid lock but at the same time a lot of people were on the move. A silent terror was building up in Janet but she had the children to think about. Was it an invasion? War? Imminent Famine? Whatever it was the fear of the unknown and her love for her children made her feel like stone. No matter what happened today as long as her children were with her they were safe.


That stupid bitch! What the hell was she thinking bringing her kids to a place like this? The door is almost completely blocked with people but I can get through on this side. Dammit! Those newspaper trays and shopping carts are blocking my path. No wonder no one was going this way. Well fuck it then. No reward to those who don’t try, I’ll have to go over. At my age it’s pretty hard to get my legs up that high but if we want to be out of here by 3 o’clock I’m going to have to do it. And I’m in… Look at this rampage. Almost everything is gone. Well if it’s not gone it’s in someone’s arms. And look at that idiot. Hey there’s another one. Actually there’s a lot of them with shopping carts and they are stationary, a lot of them are just blocking people from moving. Crushed apple I almost slipped on there. I think. Did I just step in puke? These people are idiots, to think I have to deal with this at my age. I’ve got to get out of the way for a second. I take off my backpack and put it on backwards and unzip the front. This isn’t going to do wonders for my back but it’s got to be done. Can you smell this filth? This air smells like an unclean washroom stuffed into a sweaty armpit. Think now, what do I need? Shut up! What can I get now within reach so I can leave ASAP? Bread, bread lots of bread. Not too much, I need room for-… the lady in front of me falls on the ground and drops all of her soup cans. I think of helping her up. Then I think of grabbing the soup cans. When she starts convulsing in mad fits on the ground and turning red I think of giving up the endeavor and leaving. It’s too much of a risk to bring this home with me. I have to think of everyone counting on me, waiting for me back at home. The R.V must be loaded right now. We’ll make due with what we’ve got. We’ll survive. I’m not bringing diseased food back to my family. I turn back around and head for the door but the crowd surges. They keep coming in and no one can leave. I hear a loud bang and then another. Now everyone is running in. I try to find cover but the only thing I can do is cling as close as I can to the bread shelf. Cops, lots of them in riot gear and gas masks march into the store in formation. The only thing I can make out is the heads and plastic shields. I know it’s all over now. The shields go up in a circle just inside the entrance and within seconds pepper smoke grenades are launched from the middle of them into three different parts of the store. Gunfire breaks out as the rain of fiery mist fills my eyes. There’s no way out now. I’m reeled into a state of shock when a bullet smashes through my chest and out my back. All the sound seems to have been compressed. As though it’s all been put into a Tupperware tub and had the bass turned up. I slide down the wall, my mind accepts that I can’t breath. The last thing I see is the lady on the floor with her soup cans sprawled about her. Still shaking. All is warm now. They’ll do just fine. They’ll do-



They were only a few block away from their house when Janet noticed how wrong things were. People were wondering the streets in complete confusion. People were packing their cars, getting ready to leave. There was a cop car at the end of the block parked in front of the Duncan family’s house. Janet knew them well because their children played together often.

As she drove past she saw a police officer crying and gritting his teeth at the same time. His gun held like a child’s toy in both hands, he was pointing it at everything and pressing the trigger slowly and methodically. No bullets were being fired because he had fired them at the Duncan family whom were sprawled about on their front lawn. They were all dead. At least that’s what it looked like but just as Janet drove out of view she could have sworn that their little girl kicked at the air.

Janet turned the corner and they went down the alley and parked inside their garage. The world had gone mad and now everything seemed to have a sarcastic edge to it. As the garage door slowly closed behind them Janet swore it was the slowest it had ever closed. The children were obviously scared of the dark is the garage despite the light shinning in through the windows leading to the backyard. As a matter of fact the light only enhanced the eerie silence they now faced. None the less they all braved it and got out of the car and made their way to the door. Janet held onto both of her kids hands tightly as she opened the door to her backyard.

A white fence spanned either side of her as well as well groomed trees she took care of. In the center of her yard was a fire pit surrounded with cement to create an organized feeling in her yard. She however did not feel organized. She felt horrible. She had essentially turned her head off and tried not to think of the Duncan’s laying on their bloody lawn.

The frail screen to her back door rattled as it closed on her foot to hold it open. They were almost inside when she realized that Michelle was a few paces away. She was standing next to one of the smaller trees peering through one of the holes in the fence. But from Janet’s height atop the stairs she saw one of the neighbors leaning over one of the dogs.

Thinking the dog was hurt Janet called out, “Is everything ok Gary?”

Gary’s, the neighbor, head perked up. While he slowly got on his feet Janet called out again.

“What is going on Gary? Why is everyone going crazy?”

Gary made a long gurgling sound and turned around. Half of his face was torn off. From his left eye down to the bottom of his neck a diamond shaped piece had been torn out. Teeth and bones were there for all to see. Even the huge eye itself seemed to want to pop out of its socket just for the sake of being extra gruesome. Blood and hair clung to his teeth, which he gnashed together with anticipation.

Michelle did not notice any of this and was calling out the husky’s name in a sweet and overly high pitched tone over and over. Gary now changed direction away from sauntering towards Janet’s. Gary gurgled again and this time hissed, though not on purpose, through his exposed teeth.

“MICHELLE!” Janet screamed as she ran towards her daughter, letting the screen door slam on Riley. He didn’t bother crying this time because he knew it would be the wrong thing to do.

Gary felt the top of the fence line with his blood soaked hands looking for a weak point. Michelle was well aware that she had done something wrong and welcomed her mothers embrace. But as Janet picked Michelle up Gary jumped at just the right moment and desperately gasped onto a large handful of Janet’s hair. She let out a scream of terror as Gary’s sudden defiance of gravity was set right and Isaac Newton’s theory was once again put into play. Gary’s arm broke over the top of the fence as he came back down but his grasp was still tight on her hair. Janet felt completely vulnerable at this moment.

Michelle was no older than eight and knew enough to bite Gary’s hand. She bit it so hard that reality bit back. Being only eight Michelle now knew what it was like to feel bones touching teeth. Knew what blood tasted like. But reality had also lied to he in that moment by letting her think blood was cold and didn’t flow. With such things sacrificed now Janet’s hair was relieved from the tug of war.

They all ran into the house and cried for a good long time. Michelle cried the most because she wanted the taste of violence to be washed out like a bad word.




The news was on TV and it wasn’t good. Images of the nightmare outside were all over the TV, as though every person in the world hadn’t witnessed enough. Car accidents and fires littered every channel. Hospital reports of casualties and non-admittance protocol during a large-scale outbreak. Shoddily made point by point presentations flashed across the screen of things to do, things not to do, symptoms of the disease, possibilities of where it came from. People’s faces flashed onto the screen declaring that they were experts on the issue but they all argued and nothing was actually discussed.

Then there was a guy in a news van in the middle of nowhere trying to tell people that all the roads were blocked and there was no escape from the cities. When the camera panned off of him the view was epic. A stream of metal was frozen in time. Many of the drivers died in mid flight or were attacked by passengers. When the cars stopped people attacked each other with guns and their bare hands. Even if they were at the head of the line up to flee the military had apparently been ordered “kill to quarantine”. Which was apparent by the large pillar of smoke rising from the horizon.

As her and the kids sat there watching TV, the blood washed from their hair and mouths, their lives were changed. They were in the tight little center of what they could consider the end. Everything was spiraling out of control. Everything they knew had taken on a new meaning.
Janet picked up the phone to call Ross and see how he was making out through all of this, but there was no dial tone. The day started like any other day they had known and finished at the beginning of a night they could not wake up from.


Day break and the sound of the bird outside sang of safety and the things they had known, but they dared not go outside. Gary was still in his yard with bloody red chunks of his dog spread about him. His arm was still broken at the elbow but that didn’t stop him from moving it about like the useless limb it was. It gently shook about with each movement.

Janet looked in the fridge and guessed at how long she could hold out with the little amount of food they had before they could go outside. She laughed at the idea. There was no way she was going to leave her house until things settled down.

As the days went by the TV eventually stopped working. Nothing came in on the static channels. During the days it worked they all learned the obscene had become real. The virus that had broken out would be impossible to contain. It was airborne, it was transmittable through bodily fluids, it was unstoppable. The only answer to the disease was to let it run its course. The victims of the disease would first show a constant lapse of memory forgetting things one second to the next.

Michelle was contained to her room. In the next two days, despite Janet’s efforts, Michelle had shown signs of definitive infection. She was trying to eat her clothes and hands. Janet was forced to tie her to her bed so she couldn’t harm herself. In the midst of doing so Michelle bit down on Janet’s hand. When Janet cried out if wasn’t just in pain. It was loss.













At the beginning of it all, when I could have still left this room, it was the rhythmic crunching of gravel beneath numerous feet which almost broke my sanity. So I shut the window and moved to the other end of the room, by the door. Soon the clawing began, the scratching, the futile attempts to wretch the handle open. I had vague memories, recollections from television shows and movies, in which wooden doors could be made impenetrable by a chair wedged beneath the handle. I still don’t know if such a method would work. The only chair I had on hand was too short.

The room was a small one, with one or two kitchen appliances on one end and a bed on the other. A bachelor’s suite. When I first moved in my Dad joked that it was a “bachelorette suite”, even as my Mom worried about a her youngest daughter living on her own, so close to the inner city. I laughed at both of them. The first few weeks were a numb blur, like I had woken up in the body of someone else. Or had another mind woken up in my body? Then I began to miss my family. Before I slept I thought of lost dogs, car accidents and creeping, undiscovered cancers. Regardless, mundane reality eventually won the protracted battle and I soon slipped beneath the slow, steady current of everyday work and leisure, my thoughts finally, mercifully, grounded once more. Then it began.

Luckily, the room was a small one. Everything was laid on the floor- dresser, desk, bed and fridge. The bed went against the wall, the fridge against the bed, the dresser against the fridge and the desk against the dresser, and against the door. Come and get me. And they tried, though they would have needed an axe to get through the door. Yet they tried, and I could sit atop the overturned fridge or bed and feel the constant thumping of hands and shoulders and bodies against the door. And they still try, and I no longer think this is a riot.

The water stopped. I took to relieving myself in jars and drinking from the toilet. The power had stopped long before, though I rarely kept fresh food in the fridge, even before I knocked it over and dragged it across the room. So I ate cold pasta, beans, vegetables and fruit from cans. Later I would soften dehydrated noodles in toilet water, though the water was growing scarce. When I had light I would read, though now I mainly sleep. It’s best not to think about how the room smells. I began considering how to kill myself after a week of this.

I still haven’t had a good look at one of them. They are silent, save for the sound of their feet in the gravel pathway beneath my window, and the sound of their hands and bodies upon the door. The room is on the ninth floor of the apartment; its single window facing another apartment several meters next to it. At the beginning, before I closed the window, I would hear shouting, cars, sirens and what I believed to be gunfire. Later I heard screaming, more cars, less sirens. Now I don’t try to hear anything. I would jump from my ninth story bachelor suite (“bachelorette suite”, ha ha Dad). But when I try to listen, when I try to hear what paces back and forth beneath my window, I know I will never, ever purposefully leave this room, even if it is to my death.

I had finished my last can of food (the cartoon-character pasta shapes on its label seem almost blasphemous since this began) when my thoughts found a new grounding. For all that now mattered my dog had run away- no, he had been hit by a truck. My family was at the bottom of the twisted wreckage of a five car pile up, more metal than flesh. Everyone else had cancer. Wait, it was more final, more fatal than that. Everyone had died in the accident. Yes, my dog, my family, my best friend too, all in the same car, all dead. Or maybe… Maybe they were all killed by whatever wanted into this room, my room? Maybe it was my family who was trying to get in? But if they were dead, how could they…

I walked to the window.

The window’s blinds were a pale, tacky yellow, light enough to allow in ample sunlight when drawn tight, as they had been since this began, two weeks ago. I pulled them open and someone looked at me. Someone that shouldn’t have looked at anyone. Shouldn’t be able to look at anyone.

As I closed the blinds I realized I wasn’t shocked, wasn’t scared, by the bloodied, gaping face. No, this new reality wasn’t even mine. The people I knew, the things I had done and would do, what I loved and hated, all of this fell out from beneath me like so much rotten wood. The world had ended two weeks ago and I simply hadn’t realized it.

I do now, and with a pair of scissors I slowly fashion a long edge out of an empty can. I think of my family, my best friend, my dog. We are somewhere bright, the world is loud around us and my eyes and ears are grateful for the sensations, like a parched throat softened with water, however much it initially scalds. My world had ended two weeks ago, so why shouldn’t I?








I looked outside one more time at the corner of the street. I could see down the Main Avenue and up 32nd. In the middle of the intersection two cars had collided at least a week ago. Bits of broken glass lay on the street where they seemed to blend in and out of reality with each drop of rain. I wondered how wet the insides of the cars were and what’s worse, I dared to wonder if they even worked. I suppose if they did work they wouldn’t be in the middle of the street.

A leaf fell against the window and I instinctively ducked back into the shadows for fear that the windows would suddenly break and I would have to fight the terror out of my body and force myself into action. My heartbeat exploded with a mild dose of adrenaline and slowly calmed with each passing second as I reminded myself that it was fall and leaves fall off of the trees. Simple ideas sometimes are hard to grasp when I am this paranoid and nervous.

The air was getting bitterly cold. There was no heat and no power and things were getting desperate. I could feel my sanity slowly fading away from time to time and occasionally I would hold a debate or a conversation with myself. That being as it was I had enough decency to do much of this in my head. I somehow always managed to win the debated...odd.

Suddenly I heard a noise outside loud enough that I could hear it through the window. It was persistent and was not going to stop of it’s own accord. It was dead and it was stumbling through the leaves of the front yard holding what seemed to be a leash. In her bloody jogging suit she was the epitome of morbid irony. Shuffling her feet through the fallen leaves she would, from time to time, roll her head up towards the sky. She suddenly seemed to take an interest in the cars out front by feigning some kind of sad concern by bringing her hands up to her mouth and bending over and moaning. Or maybe she was getting ready to eat and forgot she needed food first. When she fell on her knees and continued to moan I began to wonder if something deeper was going on. Maybe before she died this was her car. Maybe she expected to find a loved one inside dead. It was a weird form of empathy I felt for her at that time. But at the same time all I could think about was violence and fear and the fact that within minutes I might have to deal with both.

She leaned forward too far and seemed to have enough of her reflexes left to move her arms out in front of her to stop herself. But her left arm was clearly broken at the bicep, foiling her efforts. She fell hard and the rolled onto her back and like a turtle tried to deal with her situation. She eventually righted herself and crawled towards the cars for what seemed like forever. When she got there she stood up and pulled on one of the rear doors. It was a blue Sunfire and the door wouldn’t come open for her. It was the side that was hit in the accident because the whole side of the car looked like so much tinfoil. She pulled harder and the door came off and fell on the ground making a loud bang surpassed only by the car's alarm.

BLEEP...BLEEP...BLEEP....RONK... RONK...RONK

She reached inside and in the span of a ten seconds pulled out something in her good hand. And to my horror it was a dead infant held upside down by it's leg.

I looked away. I looked away and didn’t look back for quite some time. It was a dead baby... only an infant and it looked a pale blue. I could still hear what I assumed now to be the mother of this child moaning along with the car alarm. I couldn’t stay in this place any longer. The car alarm, the baby, the broken arm… I was losing my mind for real this time. I wanted to give up. But that voice I always argued with finally came and spoke to me.

“Run you idiot! There are more of them coming. If you run now they won’t all be in one place. You can do this. Run and find a better place.”

“They will follow me and I will get bitten. I will vomit my insides out and I will die slowly as they tear me apart.”

“Hit them. Hit them in the head like before and run. You’re smarter than them. You’re faster than them. And you are hungrier. Your desperation is an edge over them. RUN NOW!”

I felt like crying. I could see the baby in my mind. I could see the broken arm holding the leash jostle as she shook the child. I was moving. Preparing myself. I wasn’t thinking. I was just moving through out the apartment that wasn’t even mine and gathered what little I could. At least I found a hammer here. That hammer was all I really needed. That and layers of clothes. They could bite and they could grab. But at least they couldn’t decide where to bite you. Give them an arm wrapped in spikes and I’m sure they’d bite into it at least a few times.

I opened up the door into the hallway very quietly. Looking up and down it I decided it was safe. I walked directly to the stairwell and within seconds was feeling the cold air on my skin. The sickly sweet stench of death was everywhere, filling my nose. I saw the lady still holding her baby and up the Avenue I could see at least twelve rotting bodies walking in my direction. One of them was fat and wearing an over sized dress that seemed to sway like a tree in the wind. All of them were headed in my direction, towards the car alarm, and I wanted to crush every last one of them. I wanted to burn them in a pile of leaves somewhere far away. I looked down main and there were less of them. About four of them. And one of them was a cop.

“Smash her!”

I looked at the lady and raised the hammer. I brought it down on the top of her hairline and her eyes bulged in such a sick manner I barely noticed she was still walking towards me. I pulled the hammer out and backed off for another attack taking a second to notice one of her solid black decayed sinus cavities had made it's way out. In the back of my mind I realized that this is probably why moaned they so horribly. Their sinus cavities were collapsed and decayed.

She dropped the baby with a thick thud, like a pumpkin. I swung once more on her temple. It caved in and she fell down.

The baby cried.

“Now run!”

And so I ran. In more ways than I can admit.

***

Basic Principals of Hand to Hand Combat

1. Be aggressive.
2. Keep eyes on the opponent.
3. Distract the opponent.
4. Disable or be disabled.
5. Vary the attack to fit the situation.
6. Turn your defense into an unrelenting attack.
7. Feel superior to your opponent, regardless of the latter size or evidence of strength.

You will have little time to stop and think when engaging in hand to hand combat. Therefore your actions must be automatic. Remember, attack aggressively with one purpose in mind, to kill.



I ran until I was drained of all energy. My lungs felt like frail paper bags set to pop with each breath. I had run past more of the living dead than I could count. Mostly because one memory screamed out above all others. It was a baby's cry, unlike any I've ever heard. It followed every thought and chased away any form of sanity I was comfortable with. Ideas and stories played out in my mind about all of the helpless faces lost in this vivid nightmare.
Now I had never gotten sick when all of this happened but many of the people I knew had fallen ill. I thought about the possibility that somewhere out there a mother ate her child as it screamed in agony. The possibility that all the unconditional love had now turned to pure gruesome violence and all the play on social values it had. Something evil was dancing in my mind and it wouldn't stop even if the music stopped.
I had to stop for a while to rest everything. I walked to the corner of the street and turned down a quiet residential looking area. The trees were huge and there wasn't a single car in view. There were neatly trimmed bushes and all of the houses seemed to be in a well-established area. Probably every house here had some sort of "big shot" in it or some sort of corporate figure. I despised them even in their death. They ate at other people’s lives like multi-tasking parasites and passed their way of life onto their spoiled children. Most of them grew up and went to college and never even deserved it nor needed it. They already had lives filled to the brim. They had everything handed to them. And those who didn't worked in such a patronizing way that their lofty preconceived view of reality was one of mastery over those around them.
I threw everyone who had once lived here on this street into nice little social groups and poured gasoline on them in my mind. I had pre-justified every action I would take before it happened. The soccer mom's and their baby making value system of drilling themselves into an office tycoon until they were symbiotic. And their preteen children spoiled rotten to the bone and had no morality at all.
I really hoped that all this "justifying" wouldn't be necessary. I hoped that my cynical views on the world were wasted here and that in one of these houses I would find a decent meal. A decent hot meal and a clean bed. These houses called out with inviting comfort and at the same time made me dizzy.
I felt dizzy at the thought of going inside one of them. I looked at the house on my right and it made me dizzy. I looked away and everything returned to relative normalcy. With my head screwed back on straight I looked back and I felt dizzy again and really scared.
The curtains began to move behind the window. Someone was walking from one end of the curtains to the other.
The only two possibilities of what it was ran through my head. It could be a person spying on me. It could be a gas filled corpse with see through slippery skin walking around in circles in it's "living" room.
I walked on down the block never removing my eyes from that window. As it passed out of sight I began to realize I needed to lock myself up somewhere to sleep.

"How're you doing?"

"..."

"Bub?"

"You know exactly how I'm doing. Don't patronize me."

"Run."

I looked behind me and there was nothing there. I looked frantically everywhere and yet I saw nothing. I saw the trees sway in the wind and heard the dries leafs clicking and clacking together.

"Fuck you."

"Just keeping you on your toes little man. Later."

I hated that asshole. If I found a way to kill him I would. But with everything as it was I'd probably end up lobotomized or blowing my own head off trying to rid myself of him. And don't think that I've never considered doing that. I'd rather be dead dead than undead. Just the thought of what I might become was reason enough to consider doing it.
When I came out of my daydream I was at the door of a favorable looking house. My plan was to ring the doorbell sporadically and listen for a reaction. After that, I go with my instincts.
I heard a dog inside begin to whimper. Something told me that this was a good house to stay in or at least have a new friend.


The dog whimpered and scratched at the front door as I made my way to the back gate. I reached over a tall wooden gate and pulled the lever. As it slowly swung open it gave a little squeak. Within the backyard there stood a tool shed in the corner and attached to the house was a small deck leading to patio doors. I had to stay so very weary of all my surroundings.

All of the sudden in the middle of the backyard and out in the open it occurred to me, as it would make sense in a dream, that I was a ninja. I was a commando. I was a robber and a thief. I was a child playing games in a grass filled back yard and I was going to give myself missions and play make believe. The dierness of the whole world seemed to fade away and my memories popped and fizzled until they were no more. I knew my name of course. Of course I did… didn’t I? It was something like…

What was the question again? Where’s my dog? He’s inside the house and I’m on a special quest from the king to save him from prison. But I need my knight stuff. Knights wear armor and ride on horses and they kill dragons.

“Go into the tool shed. All your toys are in there son.”

“Okay. When is lunch going to be ready?”

“When you’re finished playing son. Now go on.”

“Okay Dad.”

At that moment I could have sworn someone patted me on the shoulder. I looked and no one was there. I got scared and felt dizzy. Something pressed on my eyes and I fell down. Even when I hit the ground I kept on falling. Spinning out of control again into unconsciousness.


When I woke up I was in a field laying on my stomach. The robust smell of grass filled my nose, as did another smell. My body echoed with a memory of strain. In the distance I heard barking and the rattling of a chain link fence. I rolled over so I could see what was happening. There was a young husky running back and forth in front of a wire fence occasionally jumping at the corpses behind it. Normally I would have hated this situation because the noise was drawing them out of their dark little corners and towards us. But the dog couldn’t get out and they couldn’t get in. The sky was blacked out by a billowing cloud of smoke. Behind the noise and movement of the dog and the dead burned the largest fire I had ever witnessed. Sure I had seen quite a few fires since this all began, but this was on such a grand scale it was a wonder to me how it had happened. A youthful voice came to me demanding my attention.

“I’m hungry. When’s lunch?”

“Let me rest a while and enjoy this.”

I had assumed that the fires were caused by me. And with the dead behind that fence and the fire behind them I felt sure assured that I would be all right though it all.

“When are we going to eat sandwiches?”

“Shut the fuck up you little shit!”

I stood up and what happened next was something I could have never braced myself for. My right leg wouldn’t move when I told it to. Regardless of this I stood up. I stood tall with my chest bursting outward with anger. My fisted clenched tightly with their nails digging into my palms. I was furious. How could I be bitten? How could I have missed that of all things? How could I?

Laying on the ground was my hammer and a shovel. I don’t know how the shovel got there but I was glad it was there. I picked both of them up and hobbled across what was now clearly a soccer field.

“Fuck you!” I screamed in anger, ”Fuck you!”

I moved faster towards the objects of my hate. They wanted at me and it was clear on their faces and moans. An old lady in a bloody sweater was the first to receive retribution. I speared the tail end of my shovel through the fence and into her face. It hit a rotting eye and went in further but did not make it all the way to the back of her skull. She fell back on to a sidewalk. But struggled to stand again. Taking over her place were the remains of a thirty something female, her throat torn out along with a great portion of the supporting muscle forced her head to tilt to one side. Her hair was slightly shorter than shoulder length and chunks of hair missing. Most likely torn out during her last moments.
A young boy around twelve years old, wearing a shirt with a jet airplane on it. It was covered in thick blobs of dried blood. Clearly the younger the faster, but how had this one died? There were no wounds on this one but something must have got him. And lastly an old man missing a shirt and a right arm and a propensity for drooling. He was moving into the slippy stage wherein the top layers of flesh become nearly transparent and hues of blue and green become more apparent. The smell as well is a horrendous sensation to experience.

“Fuck you!” I screamed as I speared the old man in the forehead, “You shit!” It caved in rather easily. He vomited as he fell and for a brief moment I saw a finger among the repugnant bile. Chunks of flesh and bone splashed atop his chest.

The kid was biting the wire fence. His teeth broke and chipped. I thought about the baby. I breathed in the smoke and I felt the rage build up in me. I thought about eating flesh as one of these thoughtless cannibals. I felt the heat of the fire against my face. I attempted to spear the woman in the head. It was a glancing shot. I tried again and again and finally on the fifth try I hit the open part of her neck. It hit the spine and it gave out with a definitive clack. Her knees gave out and she collapsed on the spot.

“You fucks! You god dammed diseased fucking monster!” And with that the youngest of them all fell to the ground. All this and my leg was still throbbing with pain. I couldn’t believe that I was bitten and I wasn’t even there to defend myself.

The dog was still jumping back and forth barking. Decidedly saving most of his voice for the dead, though he did bark at me.

I felt it was time to start thinking of ways to kill myself and not return as one of the undead. I could set myself on fire just before I shot myself, but that would mean I’d have to find a gun between now and then. And guns were a rare commodity as I had found out moving from house to house.

“Well now what?” I asked the voices.

There was no reply this time. But I did remember something about jelly. I thought it was something about me as a kid eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. But the more I remembered the more was blocked from me.

I was in a soccer field that was fenced in and it created an odd juxtaposition of safety and danger. Out in the open and safely fenced in.

“Enough of this endless running kid. Let’s think here for a second.”

Liked this one.

I walked out into the middle of the field expecting to hear more. I sat down and faced the fires. More and more of the dead were coming. I looked at my injured leg.

“Now look kid, it’s not that bad. I was trying to show you before but you wouldn’t look.”

Suddenly a wave of blocked memories passed over me. I had walked into a house and killed a living being. She was bitten and was going to die anyway. Was her name Juliet? Janet? I killed her kids too, a boy and a girl, that were already dead. She had locked them in their rooms because she didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know what else to do. And there was the dog. But that was in the house after this. All of this seemed to leak back like memories through a bad hangover.

I remembered setting fires in other houses. I remembered going into sheds and taking jerry cans of gasoline out. I remembered breaking back door windows and hearing groans from inside and smelling the death within. I remembered lighting it all on fire with a barbeque lighter.

A figure with arms outstretched walking towards me, dress and hair on fire. Reaching out through a broken window. skin tearing as it forced itself upon the broken glass. I could reason with myself now that it was good not to remember.

“It’s not your fault. They were already dead. What’s done is done.”

I remembered running away from the fires with the dog following me. I jumped the fence and my leg got caught. I fell on my back and the sound of my skin tearing stands out more than the pain. I remembered hobbling away from the fence and then collapsing. I saw the dog run towards me… through the fence.

I looked to my right and sure enough out in the distance under the trees was an opening to the field. What I saw made me proud and scared. The dog was fighting a fat dead kid about 16 years old. The kid was trying to get at the dog but the black lab was too fast. I stood up and hobbled towards the dog. He was barking and drawing a lot of attention towards us. The dog had a grip on the kid’s thigh and was spinning him around, eventually the kid fell on his face. Just in time too because I was there to seal the deal with a good whack to the cranium with my shovel.

But just down the fence a bit were the others making there way to the entrance. Hobbling as I did.

“We aren’t finished here, but I can see you’re busy. I’ll come back at a better time.”

“The clearer things get the worse off I am, Winston.”

“I said later! Just worry about getting out of here!”


And just like that Winston left me at the worst time possible. I could have used his advice on any number of issues. Like, for example, where does someone run whilst surrounded by the dead. Furthermore how the fuck am I supposed to run with my leg torn to shreds. Just thinking about it made it hurt almost twice as much.

“God dammit Winston!” I said out loud.

So that’s when I decided to make my way to the dam. It wasn’t that far away, only a few blocks from here. From there I could decide where the best place to go would be. I could choose to go downtown, which I wouldn’t. I could head towards the hospital and suburbia. Not as bad as downtown granted that I stay far away from the hospital. I remembered some of the things I heard on T.V and the radio before the greater half of the population died.

Hospitals were filled to the brim with the sick and dying. First they got sick and started to have mild hallucinations. Then they moved onto part two of the disease with violent outrages and acting out until their body could not take it anymore. Some bashed their head against walls, some tightened every muscle in their bodies until the blood flow to their brains would stop and then they’d pass out and repeat until failure. The lucky few just died while the unlucky ones went insane and ate whatever they could find, which was unfortunately themselves. I remembered the images on T.V of gnarled bite mark ridden wrists with hands missing.

Definitely staying away from the hospital despite my wound. Though a fresh patch of suburbia could be beneficial. So off to the dam I hobbled down a long stretch of road with trees on either side of me. As far as I could tell the dog was still in the fenced in soccer field still attacking the dead fat kid. To be honest I thought myself better off without his company. Sure he warned me of hidden danger and would perhaps help me. But at the same time he was a liability, barking away at everything. Attracting unwanted attention unnecessarily. I decided that I would let him do his own thing. Should he follow me I would have him as long as it was bearable. If not, I would continue on my own, without consequence.

Nearing the end of the long road I came upon a large water works building. The massive building looked very officious. I imagined that there would be people in there. It would only make sense. Someone had to watch the water level and keep the city safe from flood and the dam from overflowing. But I knew that they would be dead and not doing their jobs. I wondered if somewhere in that building there was a poor damned soul sitting behind a computer screen even after death.

A brief look behind snapped me away from my day dreaming. The smoke from the fire I had set was creating an eerie effect on the corpses walking this way and that. With my hobbling I wondered if they believed that I was food or following my lead. As I hobbled onward in light smoke I took no safety in the fact that there were only four of them. They could still over power and overwhelm, especially with their smell.

I made it past the water works building and made my way to the dam itself. At that moment I arrived at the dam I decided that it wasn’t such a good idea to cross over the dam and into suburbia. Who knew what would be at the end of the dam. I could be put in a pinch on both sides of the dam. Besides, the other side of the dam was hospital and a residential zone. There are thousand of places to be ambushed from in a place like that and with the population of the damned being higher on that side of the dam I decided to take the low road. On the backside of the damn there was a wooden stairway leading down to the base of the dam. At the bottom there was a well-forested area and a river that had been created by the dam winding throughout.

I made my way down the first few steps of stairs and onto the landing with no small effort on my behalf. Behind me was the dog. He barked and looked like he was ready to attack me but then I noticed that he wasn’t snarling at me or showing his teeth.

“Move! Move you idiot! Don’t you get it?”

I moved down the stairs and thought to myself, “Yeah, I got it. I don’t need your help anymore.”

“You need more help than even I’m willing to admit.”


Second landing and the dog stopped barking at me and moved ahead of me to take the lead. Directly at the bottom of the stairs was a dirt parking lot with a white van in it and a fenced off utility shed.

“See. You’re actually thinking of climbing over another fence to get in there. Not only will you risk fucking up both legs you also get nothing out of it. There’s nothing in a utility shed but dials and tools and maybe a data entry binder.”

“There’s safety and maybe a chair so I can check out my leg.”

“Ok. If you get over the top of the barbed wire what about the dog? What about bandages?”

“Fuck off Winston. You’re such a pessimistic wimp. I don’t know why I put up with you, you’re always so negative.”

The dog stopped and looked at me. Apparently I said that last bit out loud. The dog looked away after a while and we continued onward.

“Fucking Winston. All he ever does is bitch at all my plans and then fills in the gaps when it’s convenient for him. He doesn’t care how much it worries me that I can’t remember one minute from the next.”

That last bit I said out loud on purpose and it felt good to talk to this dog. Even though the dog didn’t look back at me this time I felt a little more like a sane person.

When we got to the bottom and got a closer look at the utility shed I noticed something that would have put Winston to shame. The shed was surrounded by a fence and barbed wire but the portion of the shed that backed onto the water was unfenced. Even though I’d have to get into the water to gain access to the shed I thought it was the best thing that happened all day.

“It’s hard to run, when you’re wet.”

“…”

“Well it is!”

“I’m not going to argue with something so obvious.”

I waited for more to be said but nothing came so I got into the water and made my way around the fence. When I made it back on shore I realized that grenade meant nothing. My head was just fizzling because I had done something that made sense. I had talked to the dog and made a friend and got some of my balance back.

The dog was nervous and wouldn’t get into the water so I decided to go into the shed and find some keys to open the front gate. I broke into the shed with great difficulty. The glass was hard to break due to my lack of strength. Inside there was a key rack and a slew of keys. When I got outside to open the gate for the dog I found that it was never even locked. So much for things going my way.

I let the dog in and looked back up at the stairs I had just descended and saw two bodies at the top of the stairs looking down at me. I locked the fence and watched them carefully. One took a step forward and had trouble with the first step, then the second step then it began a long brutal tumble towards the first landing. Somewhere near the bottom it became apparent that its back was broken and by the time it made it to the landing its heels were on top of its head. Then the second started making its way down. This one didn’t fall or trip. I was thinking that it might make its way here. Then I realized I was safe behind the fence and I could watch the goings on of these two dead corpses as though it were a really morbid three stooges, minus the third stooge of course. As the second corpse reached the end of the first landing in one piece the zombie with the brutally broken back reached out with his arms (the only working appendages now) and caught hold of number two’s leg. He struggled and then landed face first on a step with an audible thud from such a great distance. He did not move after that, spare the tugging and pulling of broken back who was inching his way to his second fall.

I had no more time to watch. I had to get something done about my leg.

“Don’t forget to change out of those clothes too. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Again with the obvious Winston?”


The shed was really nothing more than a small room with a desk and a filing cabinet. At the end of the room there were what seemed to be twenty or so dials all reading water pressure, rate of release, etc. None of that interested me at the moment because my leg was killing me. It looked as though the top of the fence pierced through my skin and then the weight of my body falling had torn a painful gash half its way to my knee. It wasn’t clean by any means. It was bruised and had blades of grass and dirt in it. The throbbing hurt the most when my body started


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