Our Last Bow Read online

  Although very few people used the word at the time, most people quickly figured out that we were dealing with zombies. We knew that the perpetrators were cannibals, or were at the very least acting like cannibals. They moaned, walked slowly, didn’t react to pain, and whatever they had could be transferred via biting. Pretty much every major trope from every zombie film of note had been exhibited by these things.

  Even many of the people who witnessed the attack were quick to note that the creatures greatly reminded them of zombies. But whenever a government official or researcher had been questioned on the subject, they would quickly deny it, usually following with some variation of “we can’t say anything until the research is complete.”

  Conspiracy theorists pounced on this immediately, making their little video breakdowns of surveillance footage, and flooding the message boards with their mind-numbingly long posts about the naivety of their peers. They claimed that the government knew that there were zombies, but wanted to cover it up for fear of causing a panic.

  It no doubt came as a surprise to them when, only six months after the attack, the President went before the nation to officially declare that zombies walked among us. He even went so far as to specifically refer to them as zombies, though he did refrain from using the phrase “living dead.” As he put it, “These people are not dead, they’re ill.”

  The conspiracy theorists quickly shifted gears, saying that the zombies weren’t real, and that the government was pretending they were, just to start a panic.

  I still remember sitting in the living room with my family when the announcement was made.

  “Holy shit.” My little brother said. He’d just celebrated his seventeenth birthday a few weeks earlier. He sat cross-legged on the floor.

  “Stanley, watch your language.” My mother said. She was sitting on the couch, my Dad’s arm around her shoulders. I sat in an easy chair next to the couch.

  “Sorry.” Stanley said. The President continued to speak on the TV, about the efforts being taken to prevent the spread of the disease.

  Stanley turned and looked at me. “Well, I guess now you’re finally gonna have to learn how to shoot Ben.”

  My dad turned to me, and gave a little smirk.

  “He’s kinda right. You’re going to need to start practicing.” He said half-jokingly.

  I slowly nodded.

  “I just wish they hadn’t used that word.” My mother said.

  “What word?” Dad asked.

  “Zombie.”

  “What’s wrong with zombie?” I asked.

  “It just doesn’t sound right.” My mother’s brow furrowed.

  “But it’s basically what they are.” Dad explained.

  “I know that. I just think they should’ve come up with something more, I don’t know, scientific sounding.”

  “Like a taxonomic name?” I asked.

  “A what?” Stanley asked.

  “A scientific name. All living things have a taxonomic name in addition to their common name.”

  “What’s the scientific name for human?”

  “Homo sapien.”

  “Oh that’s what that means.”

  “See Emily.” Dad said to Mom as he pointed at me. “I told you there was nothing wrong with community college.”

  “Oh he’d be smart no matter where he went.” Mom said. She smiled and I smiled back. “But yeah, something like that. Zombie just sounds a little too... I don’t know. It just doesn’t sound right.”

  The next day at school the only thing anyone could talk about was the zombies.

  “Is it possible that some people might be immune to the virus?” A science major asked in the cafeteria.

  “Would this increase the demand for zombie cinema?” A film major asked, as he put an essay on Fellini’s 8 ½ (graded C+) into his backpack.

  “Could the Romans have used zombies as slaves?” A history major asked as she thumbed through a copy of The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Edward Gibbon.

  “Are zombies entitled to civil rights?” A law professor asked this question to his students. He told them they’d get ten extra credit points if they could write a persuasive essay on the topic.

  Suzy and I also talked about the possibility of an outbreak. We were sitting in the backseat of her car to escape the cold fall air. Suzy had prepared two of her mayo-less tuna sandwiches for us, but they tasted good thanks to the spices she used. She was wearing a black shirt featuring Superman, Green Lantern, Batman, and the Flash, all in heroic poses, with the words “I only date superheroes” printed across the bottom of the shirt.

  “I mean, the only zombies are the ones the government has in that lab in Connecticut right?” She asked, as she brushed a lock of brown curly hair from her forehead. She was referring to the four zombies who’d been captured at the hospital in Maryland. She’d spent the night before watching the news. All the features and reports about the likelihood of an outbreak, and what to do if you encountered a zombie, had filled her head with horrific images and terrifying thoughts.

  “Well those are the only ones we know of.” I said. “There might be more.”

  “But we haven’t heard anything about any others.” She said through a mouthful of mayo-less tuna. “Wouldn’t someone have reported something like that? Or wouldn’t we have heard it on the news?”

  “Maybe, but we don’t know how long this thing’s been around. For all we know there could be dozens of zombies roaming the countryside right now.”

  “Can you not say it like that?” She said, the brow of her cute round face furrowed.

  “Like what?”

  “Like, so casually.” She said.

  “Sorry.” I said. For some reason, at least at that time, I didn’t feel particularly afraid of the possibly of an outbreak. Maybe it was because I hadn’t seen a zombie up close yet. Maybe it was because I lived with two gun nuts. But whatever the reason, I wasn’t as scared as she was; though I soon would be.

  She laid her sandwich in her lap, and didn’t speak for a few moments.

  “I didn’t mean to-”

  “I know, I know.” She nodded. “Maybe I’m just overacting. I mean, I just keep thinking about what happens in the movies.”

  “But that’s what they are, just movies” I scooted across the car seat, and put my arm around her shoulder.

  “But it’s still possible.”

  I didn’t have an answer for that. But for some reason the idea of an outbreak felt unreal to me. I don’t think I would’ve admitted it at the time, but I think it was because of all those zombie movies.

  I’d never considered myself a big zombie fan, but I had seen my fair share of zombie movies. The only way I, or most people had ever seen zombies was as characters framed in the TV or cinema screen. This gave them an unreal quality, at least to us. On some subconscious level, the idea that zombies could attack and overrun the world had become synonymous with film; something that could only happen in a movie. Even though I now knew that zombie outbreaks were possible, I could, and did, use the fact that I’d only ever seen them in movies as a barrier to facing that reality. That was why my Mom didn’t like the word zombie; it made the situation feel somehow less real, and therefore cheapened it.

  Suzy on the other hand hadn’t seen that many zombie movies, and had a very active imagination.

  “Listen,” I said. She looked up at me with big scared eyes. “Just because it’s possible doesn’t mean it absolutely will happen. Besides, it’s not like it would happen overnight. There would be a progression; two zombies one day, four zombies the next day, and so on. We just have to stay on top of it, and be ready for when it happens.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Just think of it as a natural disaster.” I said. “A hurricane, tornado, a flu outbreak; it’s just something that everyone freaks out about for a little bit, and then it blows over like it was no big deal.”

  She took a deep breath and nodded.

  �
�Okay.” She said. She gave me a weak smile.

  “Okay.” I said. We kissed, and resumed our lunch. I was about to take another bite of my sandwich, when Suzy asked me for a favor.

  “Sure what?”

  “Kill me if I become a zombie” Suzy said.

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “If it does happen, kill me.” Her eyes had become hard.

  “Okay.” I nodded.

  “Pinky promise?” She said, holding out her hand, its smallest finger extended.

  “Pinky promise.” We wrapped our little fingers together, and the deal was done.

  “I could do the same for you, if you want.” She said. I thought about her offer for a moment, before shaking my head.

  “Nah. I think I’d like being a zombie.”

  “Why would you want that?”

  “I want to eat you.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I think you’d be delicious.” I licked my lips. She covered her mouth and laughed. There are few pleasures greater in life than horrifying someone to the point of laughter.

  “If you turn into a zombie, and try to eat me, I’m breaking up with you.”

  “Fair enough.” I nodded. We finished our lunch then watched videos on my phone.

  III

  Aside from the sound of the bike chains rotating the tires, there was no noise as I traveled down the highway. It had been several hours since I’d left the town. I’d found the interstate, and decided it would be better than the old back roads. At least here I didn’t need to worry about zombies sneaking up on me through thick bushes on the roadside.

  I’d passed a few abandoned cars. They usually sat on the side of the road, a flat tire, stalled out engine, or empty gas tank rendering them useless to the previous owners. Most were just empty, but a few had blood stains on doors left open, and windows riddled with bullet holes. I raided them for supplies. There were a few water bottles and candy bars to be had, but most of the cars were pretty barren, the survivors no doubt taking the supplies with them when they fled.

  The sun began to set. Orange streetlights came on automatically, but it would still be too dark. Traveling at night was a last resort. I needed to find a place to stay.

  For a moment I thought about sleeping in the back of one of the many minivans that dotted the highway. I stopped in front of one that sat on the side of the road. One of its rear tires was gone. I looked inside, and peered into the back seat. An empty car seat sat in the middle of a long soft bench. I imagined myself lying on it, my aching legs on the soft cushioning, the car doors shielding my skin from the coming cold night. Plus my ass was starting to get numb from sitting on the bike seat and it’d be nice to regain some feeling.

  But I didn’t like the idea of waking up and finding the car surrounded by zombies. I’d be trapped like a rat in a cage. Besides, I still had a little while before the sun finished setting. I got back on my bike, and continued down the highway.

  The sun had been fully down for about a half-hour when I found the rest stop. It was a small brown-bricked building, with a dark green roof. It sat behind a row of short trees that served as a buffer between it and the road. Abandoned cars sat in the parking lot, as ineffective as their counterparts on the freeway.

  I entered through the doors into the main area. The lights still worked, so I didn’t need my flashlight. I laid my bike on the floor in front of the doors. Just in front of me was an abandoned Burger King. On the right side of the Burger King was a janitor’s closet. On its left side was a reasonably sized gift shop. Next to the register was a little rack with various brands of potato chips, and a small refrigerator with various sodas. There were also a few vending machines around the place.

  In one corner was a small rack of brochures. One was for a go-kart place I used to go to with my parents and Stan. Dad tried to teach us how to drive there. We ended up breaking a few karts in the process.

  Another was for a flea market my mother liked. She took me and Suzy there once. I got some old video games, while Suzy got some comic books. I also bought Suzy a Spider-Man shirt for her birthday one year. It smelled like cigar smoke, and she had to put it in the wash before she could wear it. She still loved it. My eyes started to get watery, and I moved away from the brochure rack.

  Next to the entrance was a map of the state of New Jersey. There was a red dot that marked the rest stop’s location on the map. I was about halfway up the state.

  Below the large map on the wall was another rack with paper maps. I took one, and then searched the back rooms of the building. There was nothing but a few empty offices, with discarded papers littering the floor, half-open file cabinets, and TV and computer monitors that had been left off. I turned on a few of the TVs, but only got static. The computers worked, but the internet didn’t. I also found a room with nothing but security monitors on one wall. Through those monitors, I could watch the direct feed of the surveillance cameras that stood sentry around the parking lot.

  There was also a small arcade in the back. Nothing fancy, just a pinball machine and two arcade cabinets, but one of them was Street Fighter II, and in this Hell that had become my existence, that was a small victory.

  After I’d made sure the place was safe, I ran into the gift shop, and gorged myself on some chips and soda. Tasting the sugary carbonated beverages, and enjoying the salty pleasures of a bag of sour cream and onion chips, and relishing the feeling as they filled my stomach, made the pain go away for a little while.

  After the feast, I decided to lock up for the night. The backroom areas were easy to secure; there were no windows, and the doors were already very thick. The front area where the guests entered would be harder. There were three doors with windows on them; one next to the arcade, another in front of the Burger King, and another through the gift shop. On top of that, there was a large glass window to the left of the front door, right next to the Burger King dining area. It faced the parking lot. The doors wouldn’t be too difficult to manage; I’d just need to get some of the metal cabinets from the offices, and use them to block the doors. They looked heavy, but I thought I could move them.

  The glass window was going to be the real big problem. It looked to be about seven feet high, and nine feet wide. I wasn’t sure if I could find enough heavy objects to barricade it.

  I walked up to the glass and examined it. It didn’t seem particularly thin or thick; a few zombies wouldn’t be a problem for it. But I could imagine a swarm of several dozen converging on it, trying to get to the human flesh they so desired. I wasn’t really sure how likely it was that I’d get that many zombies, but I knew this window wouldn’t be able to stand up to that many. I was also thinking about staying here awhile to recharge my batteries. Constantly being on the run takes its toll and I needed some rest. At least a day, maybe two; as many as I could get.

  I sat down at one of the tables in front of the glass, opening a new can of soda as I did so. Through the window, I was able to peer into the parking lot. Even with most of the streetlights on, it was still very dark. Abandoned cars and trucks cast long shadows where the dead could roam without alerting paranoid eyes.

  I needed something to block the window. It would need to be something big, something that would be hard to move, or go around.

  That was when I spotted it. It sat on the end of the parking lot, right before the patch of grass that separated the lot from the highway; an abandoned SUV.

  By the yellow light of the streetlight, I was able to make out its boxed shape in the darkness. The paint was a dark green color, and was chipping in a few places. The back window had been broken, and the area around the tail lights was covered in glass and blood.

  I sat looking at it. It had to have weighed at least a few thousand pounds. If I could put it in front of the glass, it would be a perfect barricade. The only problem was moving it. It would probably be out of gas or have some kind of engine problem, otherwise why would it have been abandoned?

  The only way I could see mo
ving it was to put it in neutral, and physically maneuver it in front of the window. I’d never tried to push a car, and had no idea how difficult it would be to do it by myself. And if the tires were flat, I wasn’t sure that it could be moved. I also was worried about accidentally smashing the car through the window. Then I’d be in a much worse place that I was to begin with.

  And the darkness. In order for this to work, I’d actually need to go outside, into the night. I hadn’t seen any zombies when I came in, but I had no way of knowing if any had come in since the sunset. For all I knew, there were two or three of them out there, standing vacantly in the shadows, waiting for their prey to arrive. My eyes searched up and down the parking lot, hoping to find another, closer car. But there were no other cars as big as that one. It was either the green SUV or nothing.

  I shook the thoughts from my head. I didn’t feel safe as long at the window remained unprotected. I finished off my can of soda, and made my way to the door. Rifle at the ready, I slowly pushed open the cold glass door. A chill wind smacked me in the face, biting into my nose and cheeks. I waited a moment for the wind to die down, and listened. No moans or growls or other inarticulate mumblings of the undead came from the darkness. I exited the building.

  With my flashlight illuminating my path, I walked to the SUV. The sound of my dirty sneakers hitting the concrete echoed in the empty parking lot. I was constantly looking over my shoulder, back at the rest stop, as if to remind myself it was still there.

  The SUV sat with its front bumper sitting just behind the place where the parking lot ended. I checked the tires with my flash light. They weren’t flat as I’d feared they’d be.

  I walked over to the side of the vehicle, and peered inside with my flashlight. Not too much to speak of; old fast food wrappers, unbuckled seat belts, nothing that couldn’t be found in hundreds of other cars.