Pandora (Book 5): Behold A Pale Horse Read online

  Patrick, looking on in growing concern, shrugged helplessly and said, “I don’t know… from the school gymnasium, maybe. It’s not that far from here.”

  As they passed by, some of the zombies that were trailing behind started to slow and stop. Patrick couldn’t understand why until he heard the screaming. It was coming from the Cortes house. Angelina must have seen the horde passing by and freaked out. He could see the upstairs windows were open to let air in and that she was standing in her bedroom window. She looked hysterical.

  Several zombies saw her in the upstairs window and began to move toward the house. Seeing them turn, the zombies following nearby began converging on the house also. Soon there were at least fifty undead in front of her house pounding on the front door. The more Angelina Cortes screamed, the more aggressive the zombies became. They began throwing themselves against the door, growling and snarling furiously. A couple more creatures appeared and they, to, converged on the house.

  The first, initial cracks started to become evident in the wood. As the door rattled violently on its hinges, the first wooden panel splintered through. And then another followed. Dozens of hands and arms reached in, grasping through the splintered wood as they tried to force their way in. Angelina began to throw things down at the mob of undead below her. Vases, boxes, China figurines came raining down on their heads. She screamed curses at them as she grabbed whatever she could and hurled them down at their heads. With the loud crack, the battered door gave way and flew open. Dozens of zombies poured into the house.

  The desperate woman looked behind her and then threw the window open wide. Hoisting one leg up onto the sill, she started to climb out. There was nowhere for her to go. Angelina placed one foot on the windowsill, gripping the outside of the frame as she tried to stand. Balancing precariously, and with legs shaking, she stood upright, flat against the front of her house. She kept reaching for the rain gutter under the roof overhang. Her fingers had just brushed the rim when the entire window exploded outward. Multiple hands reached and clawed at her; with several zombies grabbing her clothes and pulling. But as her arms windmilled for balance, she fell backwards. With a final scream, she toppled over and fell into the crowd of zombies below. They swarmed over her like ants.

  And now, four days later, the zombies were still roaming the street. A few had wandered off, but the majority were shuffling around the house or on the street and surrounding front lawns. Walking out your front door was now a quick death sentence. As soon as that happened, they quickly drew the shades down so they wouldn’t be seen by some observant zombie. And they remained closed.

  They were now planning to use the backyards to go from house to house. And as such, they were also limited to just their side of the street.

  “All right,” Patrick continued, “the Ehrichs. Patty and her family were on a Mediterranean cruise. I know that they’re not coming back.” He circled that box several times. “This should be our first choice.”

  “Right,” said Dwayne. “That leaves three houses between them and us. The Codys –”

  “They were infected and taken away, so that one’s empty also,” noted Patrick, giving that box a couple of circles.

  Dwayne nodded, “Right, and then there’s that asshole, Mr. Hendley.”

  Patrick smiled at that. Omar Hendley was probably the meanest, most contentious man that ever lived. He was despised by the entire block. He must have tried suing at least four different families around him at one time or another. Hendley was forever arguing with his neighbors or cursing at their kids.

  One day when Dwayne was ten years old, he and two other boys were skateboarding down the sidewalk. Hendley was out on his lawn at the time and yelled at them not to make all of that racket. Dwayne stopped and told him that it was a free country and that he could skate if he wanted to. The old curmudgeon walked up to him and grabbed the skateboard out of his hands. He took it inside and slammed the door.

  When Dwayne told his father, Patrick was furious. He marched down the street with Dwayne in tow and rang his neighbor’s bell. When the old man answered, Patrick told him to give him back to the skateboard. Hendley denied that he had it and slammed the door in Patrick’s face.

  Now absolutely livid, Patrick called the police. When the squad car pulled up, Patrick explained the situation to the officer. They both went over and rang Hendley’s bell again. When he answered, the officer said that he should give back the skateboard. Hendley started swearing and told the cop that the kid was a liar, and he didn’t have any damn skateboard. Then, sticking his finger in his face, he told Patrick that he didn’t stop harassing him, he would get a restraining order against him. With that said, he slammed the door again.

  Patrick’s mouth fell open in astonishment.

  “Go and search to his house,” he said. “You’ll find that skateboard there.”

  The police officer gave him a tired and empathetic smile. “Mr. Shannon,” he said, “no judge is going to issue a search warrant for a skateboard. Look, we both know that this guy is a jerk. This isn’t our first rodeo with him. There’s really nothing I can do. Why don’t you just go buy your kid another skateboard and be done with it?”

  After that, they steered clear of him, but never forgot the incident.

  “Well, we know he’s alive, “Patrick said snidely. “He’s to mean to die.”

  Erica then concluded by stating, “And next to us is Mrs. Travertini.”

  “She’s still there,” Patrick said. “Her husband was a lighting salesman. He was on the road when all this happened. She’s never heard from him since. It’s sad. She’s devastated.”

  Greta had walked over, her lunch chores finished. “Do they have children?” she asked.

  “No,” Patrick answered. “They never had kids. Don’t know why.”

  “Too bad,” she said. “Well, anyway, we have PB and J sandwiches waiting in the kitchen.”

  “All right,” Billy said brightly. They were always his favorite.

  “After lunch, I’ll go out and see if I can find some more food for as,” Patrick said as they walked to the dining room table to eat.

  § § §

  “Are you sure this is a good idea, Dad?” Jason said uncomfortably.

  “Yes, I am,” replied Carl.

  “But, Dad,” Jason explained, “I’ve been on the roads and highways. I know what’s out there. Most highways are impassable by now. There are zombies everywhere. We don’t even have any guns.”

  His father looked at him with their reprimanding glare, “We don’t need guns, Jason. We’re not going to go around shooting any infected people. I mean, really?”

  “Jason,” his mother said, “I’m sure that your father knows best. We’re only going to our country house.”

  Jason rolled his eyes, “It’s not a country house, Mom. It’s a log cabin in the woods.”

  “And a very nice one at that,” she sniffed.

  His father placed a suitcase in the back of the Lincoln Navigator. Then he turned to his son and said calmly, “Listen, Jason. We have a great place there that is out of the way. It’s away from the population centers and in that way much safer than here. Plus, we’re basically out of food and water here; with no place to get anymore. You remember what happened yesterday when you and I drove to the Costco?”

  Boy, do I ever, Jason thought sarcastically.

  Jason and his father took a drive to the new Costco that they had built two towns over. His father thought that they would have more success in finding food and water there. Jason convinced him to let him drive and to use his Camaro. He said it would be more maneuverable.

  The trip was a nightmare. They had to keep taking detours every few blocks because of either impassable traffic accidents or large clusters of undead. Several houses they had passed had their doors and windows smashed in. There were a number of automobiles in the street with their doors wide open and blood smeared over the windows and doors. As they got closer and closer to the Costco parking lot th
ey could hear a great din coming from that direction. As they came up to the lot they stopped. There were a number of vehicles parked there and wagons strewn throughout the lot. But what stopped them were the hundreds of undead in the lot surrounding the store.

  Four men were on the roof shooting down at the zombies. The dreadful moaning and snarling of the creatures was like a massive roar. They were pounding on the doors furiously. Jason and his father could hear shouts from inside the building. As they watched in stunned fascination, they heard a crack and then the crashing of plate glass. The large glass doors finally gave out and came crashing down. The sound of screams came from inside the building as the struggling undead clambered over each other to enter the store. The zombies were packed so tightly that it looked like an undulating wave of heads as they fought to enter. More and more people began to appear on the roof. The survivors still inside the store were trying to flee to the roof before the zombies got to them. They could hear shouting from the roof top, as the people panicked.

  “Close it, close it. Close the hatch.”

  “No, there are more people coming. Let them up.”

  “Close it now. Lock it up.”

  Jason looked at his father. The man stood there aghast. There were tears in his eyes as he watched that horror show.

  “Dad, I think we should go back now before we’re spotted.”

  They got back into the car, turned around and drove away. Twice on the way home their car was attacked by zombies. Jason deftly swerved around most of them. A few banging hands on his windows was all he suffered. His father sat in silence the entire way home.

  That night, Carl Rabner decided to take his family away. To stay here was sheer madness. If they were able to get to a sparsely populated area like where his vacation house was located, perhaps it would be safer. Maybe the stores around there would still have some food and water left. It was worth a try. Staying here was impossible. He saw that now.

  § § §

  Patrick put on his leather jacket. Although the weather was very warm and he knew he would be sweating bullets in it, he felt that it would be safer to have it on should there be a problem then to not. He put the Sig Sauer in his jacket pocket. This time he made sure to have a round in the chamber. Then folding up several heavy trash bags, he put them in his pockets as well.

  “Are you all set, Dad?” Dwayne said.

  “Pretty much,” Patrick replied, patting himself over.

  They walked to the back door and stopping to look around first, they stepped onto the porch. He looked again to make sure that his phone was on vibrate. Greta was upstairs at the front of the house, peeking out of the bedroom window and Erica was stationed upstairs at the back. Both were monitoring any zombie movement. Erica was to call if any of them were to start to come into the backyards.

  Dwayne and Billy were to wait on the porch and retrieve any filled trash bags that Patrick brought over. They both wished him good luck and Patrick stepped into his yard. Tall hedges separated his yard from the next. Patrick squeezed through the largest gap and then hurried across the neighbor’s yard to the next boundary marker. A fence separated their yard from the next, which was Omar Hendley’s. There used to be tall hedges on the side of the property also, but Hendley made such a fuss over the branches on his property that Nick Travertini ripped them out. They had never really used their yard anyway, so it didn’t matter to Nick. He just couldn’t bear the constant haranguing from his horrible neighbor.

  The fence was only five feet high so Patrick pulled himself up and climbed over. He saw that the back sliding glass doors to the deck were closed and drapes covered them on the inside. Keeping a wary eye on Hendley’s door, he ran across the yard and did the same with that fence also. This brought him into the Cody family’s yard. He would enter this house second. Patrick ran across the yard and hopped over the next short fence. He was now in the Ehrich’s yard. He went to the back door and as quietly as he could, forced the lock with the pry bar he carried.

  Once inside, Patrick scoured the kitchen and pantry for supplies. Because they had left for vacation before all this happened, the refrigerator was almost empty. Patrick took two frozen packets of steak from the freezer along with some frozen vegetables. Smiling to himself, he put a half empty gallon of chocolate ice cream in his bag. Then raiding the cabinets, he took any cans and jars of food that he found. He also grabbed boxes of cookies and crackers. Patrick also grabbed a few jars of spices to help with the meals that they fixed. He didn’t know how much longer the power would be on and wanted to make the most of it.

  Once finished, he hauled the bag outside and lifted it over the fence. Jumping over, he then went to the Cody house. Patrick was very pleasantly surprised to find the back door unlocked. He went inside and stood in the mud room. The house was quiet. As he looked around the house he found a number of bullet holes in the walls and dried blood on the floor. He didn’t know the Cody family all that well, but felt sorry for them. Checking the kitchen, he found two bullet holes in the refrigerator. Upon opening it, the sickly stench of spoiled food filled his nostrils. He winced and quickly closed the door. There were a few cans of food and an almost empty jar of peanut butter in the cupboard and he took what there was. It wasn’t much.

  After putting what there was in a trash bag, he left. Grabbing the first bag he had placed outside the door, he carried both to the fence and dropped them over the side. He went over next. Taking the two bags, he quickly walked across the yard and dropped them over the other side of the fence. He never noticed that the back door was now open. Patrick grabbed the fence and was just about to pull himself over when he heard…

  “Hey, Shannon. What are you doing in my yard?”

  Turning his head, Patrick saw Omar Hendley standing on his porch. He was holding a rifle at his waist and had the barrel pointing at Patrick.

  “Don’t worry, Hendley,” he said. “I’m just passing through.”

  “What was in those bags, Shannon?” Hendley sneered. “You robbing the neighbors again?”

  Turning to face him, Patrick said, “It’s just food. It’s from the empty houses.”

  “Yeah, I bet,” Hendley spat. “I saw you leave the Dwyer house the other week. You cleaned them out… probably killed them, too.” Patrick’s face dropped. That had stung.

  Misreading his reaction, Hendley gripped the rifle tighter. “Yeah, I thought so,” he said angrily. “First them, and then the rest of the neighbors. That’s it, huh? When is my turn coming, you Mick piece of shit?”

  Realizing that this was rapidly spiraling out of control, Patrick put his hands up defensively.

  “Now wait a minute, Omar. This is not what you think it is. I’m just trying to feed my family. That’s all.” Hendley glared at him in contempt. “Listen,” Patrick continued, let’s calm down and be reasonable…”

  Trying desperately to placate the old man, Patrick spread his arms wide and took a step forward. As he did, the pry bar he had hastily shoved in his belt slipped out and fell to the ground with a thump.

  Hendley saw what he thought was a weapon and his eyes went wide. They looked back at Patrick, who is still standing with his arms out, and squinted in anger.

  “You son of a –” Hendley growled.

  The old man fired the rifle from his hip and the bullet tore through Patrick’s side. He grunted and grabbed his wound, staggering back to the fence.

  “Fuck you!” Hendley hissed and then turned and went back inside.

  Leaning against the wooden fence, Patrick felt the burning pain radiate out from his side. Gritting his teeth, he looked down at his bloody hand. A rising moan from the zombies in the street launched him into action. Turning and clenching his teeth, he pulled himself over the fence and dropped into the next yard. He grabbed the two bags and dragged them back through the gap in the hedges. Once into his own yard, Dwayne and Billy came running over.

  “Dad,” his son said, “what was that? It sounded like a shot. Are you okay?”

&n
bsp; As Billy took the two bags from him, Dwayne came closer and saw the blood on the side of his father’s shirt.

  “Oh my God, Dad… you’ve been shot!”

  They stumbled back into the house. Erica and Greta were already downstairs. All four teenagers were bombarding Patrick with frightened questions.

  “What happened?”

  “Who did this?”

  “Who shot you and why?”

  Patrick slipped his jacket off. “Put the food in the freezer before it thaws,” he said, wincing. “Let me take a look at this. I don’t think it’s too bad.”

  Lifting his shirt, he looked down at his bloody side. Greta handed him a towel. Erica quickly took it and started to gently dab the wound. Patrick could see that the bullet had just grazed him. He got lucky.

  While Billy and Greta put all of the newly acquired food away, Dwayne and Erica took their father upstairs, where they helped him clean and disinfect his wound. Erica daubed, first alcohol, then Neosporin on it and bandaged it up fairly professionally. Dwayne handed his father some painkillers.