David Bernstein: Machines of the Dead

Jack went to the peephole and checked on the hallway. Seeing that it was clear, he went into the kitchen. Before using the group’s supply, he checked the cupboards, finding a few cans of vegetables, a box of crackers, packets of jello, sugar, and a box of instant oatmeal.

Wanting something substantial, he opened a can of baked beans from the group’s supply and sat at the table with the box of crackers. A tea kettle rested on the stove. Jack filled it with tap water and set it to boil. He grabbed a bowl from one of the cupboards and poured in a packet of cinnamon and brown sugar oatmeal. While waiting for the water to boil, he looked around, finding moldy bread in a breadbox. He lifted the lid off a ceramic jar and discovered it full with bags of caffeinated tea.

Just as the teapot was ready to scream, he turned off the burner and made the oatmeal and a cup of tea.

Sitting at the table, eating his meal, he noticed that the microwave wasn’t showing the time. Looking around, he saw nothing indicating that the electricity was on. He got up, went over to the light switch and flicked it on. The overhead light flared to life, brightening the window-less kitchen.

After finishing his meal, he sat back, letting his stomach settle. The apartment was so quiet. Closing his eyes, he could be anywhere. Now was the time to let a little of his emotions out, having no idea when he would get another chance.

Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out the wallet photo of his wife and stared at it. His heart began to ache. He had mourned her at the bunker, but not nearly enough. His throat felt tight. Sipping the warm tea helped with the uncomfortable sensation.

He and Jess had been sitting on the couch, watching television. By morning, she was sick. A few moments later, she was dead. He still couldn’t believe it, and if he hadn’t gone back to his apartment after the fact, he wasn’t sure he would believe it. Yes, he’d seen her body in the bunker. Pressed the button, putting her corpse down, but it was still so hard to fathom. Seeing their apartment the way it was had been surreal, but at the same time it was waking, truthful.

Staring at her beautiful face, he remembered their time together, from waking up in the morning and seeing her tired eyes, to eating dinner at a quaint little downtown joint. Tears filled his eyes. He blinked, sending them down his reddened cheeks. He missed her so much. The picture he was holding had captured her smile perfectly. He’d do anything to see her again. Feel her. Smell her. Touch her. Anything. Bringing the photo to his lips, he kissed it gently.

He sat staring at it for some time, lost in the past, when Zaun startled him. “Miss her a lot, huh?” he asked.

Jack wiped his cheeks and stuffed the photo back into his jacket. He turned around to see Zaun standing in the doorway.

“You should be sleeping. You need the rest.”

“Tried. Couldn’t. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, thinking. ”

“About?”

“Everything. My life. How I almost got us all killed.”

“Look, about that. I’m not saying I want you to forget it-never forget it-but don’t beat yourself up about it anymore. Okay? It’s been forgiven and in the past. Learn from it. Do it again though… and we’ll have a real problem.” Jack paused. “Sorry I hit you by the way.” He really wasn’t, but felt the need to tell Zaun that he was.

“Don’t apologize. I deserved it and more.”

Zaun came over and took a seat across from Jack. “I hate being seen as weak.”

“Who sees you as weak? I, for one, don’t. Far from it in fact. You could’ve taken some of that coke, but didn’t. Back in your apartment, you survived when everyone else died.”

“I was on my own. Most people had others to worry about. To get to. Being able to stay in my apartment, sealed up tight, made it easy. I had to be selfish. Forget about people. Shut out their cries.” He paused, picking up a cracker, playing with it, but not consuming it. “I’ve always been on my own. Never had others to care about, or had others care about me. I’m not using it as an excuse as to why I behave the way I do. It’s just how I am. Things are different now. I see that. I want to be a part of our group. I want to be counted on. I want to make it out of this hell. And I want you and Maria to make it out too. I’m all in. No more fuck-ups. At least not on purpose.”

Jack’s body lightened a bit. Seeing and hearing his friend talk ing this way was wonderful. “I’m truly glad to hear it. Want a cup of hot tea?”

Zaun shook his head. “No, I think I’m going to head back to bed. See if I can get some sleep. I feel a little better now.”

Jack grinned. “Get going then.”

Zaun stood and took a few steps toward the doorway and stopped. Turning to Jack he said, “By the way, I tried going online, using the computer in the kid’s room.”

“Anything?”

“Nothing.”

Jack nodded.

“Okay, I’m off to bed. See you in a few.”

Jack got up and made another cup of tea. A few more hours and he’d wake Maria.

Over the next couple of days, Jack and the others sat tight, resting and eating. They passed the time by talking-always keeping their voices low, or playing board games, from Monopoly to Battleship to checkers and chess to card games of gin and go fish, all thanks to the family that had lived there.

No one went near a window to check on the undead. Jack and the others hoped the walking corpses would leave after a few days. If the things didn’t hear them or see them, they might wander off, like they had back in the alley when Jack rescued Zaun. Nothing showed up outside their door, leaving Jack to feel as if they had won some type of sanctuary lotto.

On the fourth day, the group was ready to leave. Food was down to a few MRE’s, bags of tea, and some sticks of beef jerky left by the apartment’s previous residents.

Jack poked his head out the window and checked the alley, seeing only six zombies. Amazing, he thought.

Telling the others, they agreed it was time to leave. Bags packed, they gathered by the window.

“Remember,” Jack said, “ Tasers only. No guns.” He hated having to use the Tasers, wanting to keep them in case someone became infected, but the surest way to keep the undead away was to be as quiet as possible.

The plan was simple: get to the warehouse, then go to the tunnel. Surviving in the city was too dangerous. Their best bet was to go back underground, take the other tunnel and hope it led someplace other than the metropolitan area.

Jack and the others climbed out onto the fire escape. Two zombies were near the dead end of the alley. The other four were gathered two buildings away in the opposite direction.

The group made their way down the steps to the second floor’s fire escape. Jack unhitched the ground-ladder and slowly lowered it to the pavement with Zaun’s help. The thing was heavy, designed to slide down quickly. As hard as they tried, the metal let out screeches, attracting the attention of the undead. The bot-controlled corpses were like paparazzi, working their way to one location hoping for the perfect shot, except here the undead were hoping for the perfect bite of flesh.

“I’ll save us some T aser charges,” Zaun said, and climbed down the ladder. Three zombies waited below, their dried blood-covered fingers inches from his sneakers. He pulled out his sword and began hacking off hands and arms. The zombies didn’t flinch, their vacant expressions remaining the same. Left with only stumps for arms, they continued to reach up, trying to get at Zaun.

Jack felt his blood go cold at the sight.

Able to descend two more rungs, Zaun began stabbing the undead in their heads, each one dropping to the ground after doing so. As the other zombies arrived, standing on the bodies of their downed brethren, Zaun sliced off limbs and pierced skulls. With two zombies remaining, he sunk the sword’s blade into the head of a massive sized corpse. The blade went in halfway and the big guy collapsed, taking the sword with him, Zaun, apparently, unable to hold on.