i'm trying my hardest

don't think i'm not.
i hope it's good enough.

"With Virus: A Zombie Anecdote" parts 1-6

1.

There’s roughly 180 miles between Buffalo and Cleveland, and I’ve made the drive back and forth so many times this past year, there’s no counting. Going East to Buffalo, going home, was usually a day time trip, but coming back was a night drive. It was just easier. No traffic, no sun, just cd after cd and cruise control.

It was almost 1:30 in the morning. My birthday had officially been over for an hour and a half. The drive was the same as always; uneventful, monotonous.

I was coming up on the Erie exits when I saw him. Mangled and moaning, standing under the last of a group of street lights lining that section of highway. I swear I could hear him over the music, over the wind, and even though it was just a second, I felt like I was staring at him for hours. My brain went wild. Was that what I thought it was? Is this really it? No, I’m crazy, must have been a…deer? No way. That was a… no way. I drove another mile and a half before I saw brake lights. Not alot of traffic, but enough to make people get out of their cars to see what was going on.

I pulled into a pull off in the median, you know the ones with the “no u-turns” sign? I knew that I didn’t wanna be stuck, I needed a way out. I got out of the car and started walking towards the people being shined on by headlights. There was a woman on the ground, she had been hit by a car.

“Who in their right mind would be walking in the middle of the freeway?” I heard someone whisper. Some one without a right mind, I thought to my self. As I reached the crowd I greeted some onlookers. I listened to the questions being asked and wanted to answer them all with one statement, but I kept my mouth shut.

My mind was wandering. I wasn’t worried about what was happening right there and then, all I could think about was the decision I was going to have to make. I knew I had to turn around and head back East, to my family. All I could hope was that Dennis, Cameron, Brett, Dom, Gene, Adam, all my friends in Cleveland or elsewhere had listened to me, just a little bit when I’d ramble on about this. They were going to be on their own, just like everyone else at this point. Some just more knowledgeable in this subject than others.

Suddenly, a man with a flashlight turned around to shine it on something behind us. A figure, slowly limping towards us. It’s moan was piercing.

“Oh shit,” I said aloud. “What the Hell is that?” Someone asked. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said, “but I’m sure you’ll see. Keep the light shined on him.”

Without thinking, I quickly made my way to the side of the road. I pulled up on a metal mile marker and walked towards the beast. Upon reaching it, the stench was unbelievable. I swiftly took my first swing, right to the side of the head. The creature stumbled onto the grass on the side of the road. I came at it with another blow to the face. It lost it’s balance and fell onto it’s back. I had to finish it. Before it could find it’s way back to it’s bloody feet, I took the end of the marker right to it’s eye socket and buried it deep into it’s head. Motion ceased, moaning ceased, everything seemed to cease, until a few from the crowd came running over to view what the Hell had just happened.

“You just killed that man, kid!” a woman said to me. “That’s no man. And that woman, hit by the car, had been dead long before the car finished the job.” “What’re you saying, boy?” “Yeah, are you trying telling us, honestly, that those are,” he paused,”zombies or something?” “Well they were,” I answered. “Now they’re just dead.” “I don’t believe this, this cannot…” A small uproar started. I drowned their words out as I heard sirens in the distance.

“Listen everyone, you all need to get to your cars, and get moving. Either get off in Erie and find your bearings or just get right to your homes. Keep the televisions on and keep an eye and ear out for what’s going on and what you should do.” They stared at me. “This isn’t a joke!” “Are you insane?!” “No, but the bloodthirsty beasts, coming out of these woods, and pretty soon to be everywhere else, are going to tear at mine, and everyone else’s sanity.” It was silent. “We all need to go. Get informed and get prepared…Go!”

I turned and made my way to my car. I pulled out another marker on the way, as others were doing as well. As I got in my car emergency vehicles drove by. This is it, I thought. All the headlines and t.v. reports make sense. “Local Painter Bit by Rabid Dog”. “Car Crash Leaves One Dead and One Said to be Missing”. “Police Say That Trespassing Claims Are Out of Control”. That dog was infected, but not rabid. The examiner said person found in the passenger seat from the car accident showed much more head trauma than a small crash like that could cause, and the police said a blood trail coming from the drivers side door, led into the woods. And the trespassers being accused are not criminals looking for loot. It all makes sense.

I said a prayer for everyone I knew, and all those I didn’t, and I started my way back East.

2.

Two minutes had gone by. That was it. It seemed like hours since I started driving again. I decided to start making some calls. I maneuvered my phone out of the front pocket. A couple missed texts. One from Cheyenne, one from Dad, both from around the same time as I hit the traffic going West. I know texting while driving is frowned upon greatly, especially by the very people I was going to text back, but I just offed a zombie, they’d understand. I was being careful. I pretty much told them both that the drive was going well and I was as a stop in Erie and that I’d call when I got to Cleveland. Time to start my other calls. Cameron didn’t answer, I figured he would be sleeping. No Dom, sleeping as well. No Brett, working probably. Not even Dennis answered. I got a hold of Adam, but he was slightly inebriated. I told him I’d call back. I tried Gene. Pete answered, like always. Pete, Gene, and Paulina were with Josh at Josh’s. Drunk as well. I’ll call everyone back I guessed.

I set my phone in the cupholder. Only 5 minutes had gone by. I tried focusing on driving, but my mind just took off again. I never wanted this. I always said “Yeah! Fighting zombies would be sweet! Apocalypse now!” But it was more of a, “for one day I wish I was virtually in an apocalyptic world, then not again” thing. All I could think was the depression, the sorrow, the hopelessness, the insanity that would follow if I didn’t make the right moves, and even if I do, there is no seeing this through.

Headlights in my rear view broke my trans. A semi was coming, and fast. I moved over and he blew by me. Must have not heard anything on the radar so figured he could get away with making up some time on his trip. He must have been going 85, although I’m no good at judging that kind of stuff. All I know is that he was going faster than me. Before I could think any more of it, I saw brake lights, I saw swerving, and I saw tipping. I slowed down and stopped my car about 200 feet behind the scene. I hastily made the decision to get out and help. I popped my trunk and dug around for a minute looking for the tire iron that’s kept back there, underneath everything. Not to help fix his truck, but for defense.

As I closed the trunk I found myself eye to eye with a woman. A jawless, noseless, topless woman. She let out a moan and i took the tire iron to her left temple. She fell. I swung downwards for a crushing blow and landed it. My count is up to two.

Almost disregarding that entire event, I ran over to the truck. The driver was making his way out of the sided vehicle.

“Are you hurt?” I asked. “Naw, I think I’m okay. There was a person in the middle of the damn road. Shit man, could you call the cops or something?” “You’re not going to want them sir, trust me.”

He was a tall man. Mid to late forties, gray hair and beard, dirty jeans, boots, and a flannel. Stereotypical trucker guy.

“This is going to have to be taken care of by us,” I explained to him. “What’re you talkin' about? And why the tire iron, you changing my tires? Looks like you already got it greased up for me,” he said sarcastically. I laughed. “Listen, that person that was in the street, is dead by my car. I killed it, with this tire iron, because it was a zombie.”

He stared at me. A small drop of blood dripped from his scalp down the side of his face.

“What kind of illegal drugs are you driving under the influence of right now, boy?” He asked sternly. “None. Tell me, was the person you saw a woman?” “No, man I believe,” he paused. “What the Hell is going…” “Shit.”

Before he could finish his words the man he thought he was saving by flipping his truck was taking a bite out of his right shoulder. I plunged forward and wrapped my arm around the man’s bony torso and took it to the ground. The truck driver fell forwards and yelped in pain. The beast somehow made it to it’s feet before i could and went after it’s prey. I sprung up, taking the iron with me. With a crack to the side of the head, the horrific creature stumbled and turned towards me. It opened it’s mouth and I took the iron upwards, an uppercut, if you will. the end went straight through it’s brittle, bottom jaw. I ripped it back, tearing the jaw clear off. I shook the iron off and swung once more for the temple. Done. Three.

Gasping for breath, I quickly made my way to the trucker. I could see a mangled assortment of muscle and flesh as his shoulder had been torn off completely.

“Wha-what the Hell wa-was that?” He was having trouble speaking. “I already told you. Shit man, and if you stay infected…and alive..you’re becoming one too,” I said. “I’m so sorry. I should have been more alert and saw him coming. Shit.” I was full of regret. “Y-you need to get an amb-ambulance here now,” he demanded in a weak voice. “They can’t save you, man. Nothing is going to save you. I’m sorry.” I looked at the blood soaked ground around him. This could’ve been prevented.

“So what now? I let you kill me and that’s it?” He asked. “Sir, you have 3 options. Either I do it, you do it, or I let you wait here. And you’ll pass out, and within 23 more hours reanimate into, well, that.” I pointed at the lifeless body on the ground beside us. For some reason that triggered something in this man. He seemed to have understanding now, like he knew about the virus before, but was just being stubborn about it. I can see why though.

“Th- there’s a gun,” he said. “In a backpack. Pr-probably somewhere on the passenger s-side,” he stopped. He was in a lot of pain. “I’ll find it.” With that i went to the flipped truck. I came back out with the bag. He was already looking sick and drained, he was after all, both of those things.

“Here’s my wallet, and m-my watch. Please send those, and my b-bag to the address on my licence.” He started to cry a bit. “If you could be so kind that is.” Through the agony, the sadness, and regret, he sounded almost peaceful, and accepting. “Tell my wife, and children, th-that I love them. Write it down, or something.” “I’ll tell them everything. This will get to them, don’t worry. I hope you see them soon, but not too soon. You think they’re going to be up for a challenge?” I asked. He smiled and nodded. “My wife is the re-reason that I’m as tough as I am. Now look at m-me. She’d call me a baby and tell me to g-get a band-aid.” He let out a faint laugh. We both smiled, trying to ignore the next few moments that would have to come.

“Let’s get it over with,” he said.

I pulled out the pistol from his bag, switched the safety off, and pointed. “Hey,” he said softly. “Keep the gun, y-you’ll need it more than I w-will.” We both smiled, mine more slight than his. I nodded and pulled.

Four.

3.

I was on the verge of tears. I walked to my car as lifeless and slow as a zombie itself. I put his bag and belongings in my trunk. I stared at my steering wheel for what seemed like days. After placing the gun and tire iron on the front seat I started the engine, shifted to drive and made my way. I could feel an anxiety attack coming on. I felt like I was going 2 times faster and everything else was 4 times slower. It’s not the first anxiety attack I’ve gotten. As a kid I’d lie in bed and feel this way, then as I’d fall asleep I’d have these hallucinations and nightmares where this same feeling overcame me. My hands would feel massive but I still couldn’t reach what I wanted, and it was the same every time.

As I drove by the truck, it got way worse. I drove a mile and pulled over. Taking a deep breath I turned the stereo on. The Devil Wears Prada’s Zombie EP came pumping out of the speakers. Fitting. I back tracked to track one, Escape. The first line soon entered my ears. “There’s no time. If your decisions include regret then it’s already too late.

With that I put the car back into drive and pulled away. The rest of the drive through Pennsylvania was pretty painless. By 3:00 a.m. I was at the PA-NY toll booths. All the booths were empty. Slowly passing through, I pulled off in the area to the right. Do I get out? Search the place? Find Survivors? Find zombies?

The Zombie EP had started over 15 minutes ago. “Revive” was playing. “Whomever finds themselves too proper will be the first to perish. You know nothing that matters now.”

I turned off the stereo, grabbed the gun and a flashlight from the glove box. I searched every booth and found nothing but tickets and a purse or two. No one was anywhere. It was almost a relief, even though it could have meant that all the employees were either dead, or reanimating to come eat me. I went back to my car and noticed that there was still one other car in the area with me. Why didn’t i think of that before. That means everyone must have escaped. Well, all but one. I decided to take one more look around. Farther right of the booths, and towards the PA side, I could hear it. Feeding, probably on the owner of the gray sedan.

I felt like Bruce Willis or something, holding the gun with one hand and the flashlight on top of the gun with my other hand, like I knew what I was doing or something. Besides like an hour ago I hadn’t shot a gun in close to 10 years, and that was with my step-dad’s supervision. I walked to the sound of the feast. I flipped on the flashlight to reveal a small Asian woman feeding on a very large, and very African American man. She paid to attention to me at all, engorging herself in his innards. I was 30, maybe 35 feet away. I honestly can not judge distance at all. All I know is that I missed the shot, and now she knew I was there, and she was pissed about it. She got up to her tiny, bony feet. Her muscle-less legs trembling like the rest of her blood soaked body. Head cocked, arms up, dragging ankle, pretty much the most stereotypical zombie ever. I took a deep breath, exhaled, and fired another shot. She took it in the chest, paused, then kept on her path. I waited, waited, waited, until she was about 10..well.. close enough to that I could smell rotting flesh. Another deep breath, exhale, and fire. The shot rang out, and her body tumbled to the ground. I walked over and put one more in her forehead, a double tap, if you will. I was quite proud of myself. Not that there was really any reason to be. That was five.

Back to the car. Back to the Zombie EP. Back to the East. I’d be home in about an hour, hour and a half. Who knows what I’ll find. Maybe there won’t be anything. Maybe this was just a small outbreak and authorities had it all under control. I just came across some rare situations of defense and escape. Maybe this was all a bad dream. Maybe I will wake up in a hospital because a semi ran me off the road before I got the the Erie exits and this is all just a bad, bad, dream.

Or maybe it was real. Maybe I was one of the only ones to know about it. Maybe I just started a war. Maybe Z-Day was really upon us. In the words of Woody Harrelson, I believe it was time to “Nut up, or shut up.”

4.

The drive was going smoothly. no sight of any trouble, no problem at the Lackawana toll booths. Apparently every car that was coming through that night from PA didn’t have a ticket, so they let me through. I arrived at my mother’s house at 5:25 a.m. Lights were on, they were awake, getting ready for work. I parked in the lot across the street, took the gun and flashlight and walked up my driveway. I ran a perimeter around the house, checking the garage, under the deck, everywhere. No sign of any undead. I called the house. Bob, my step-dad answered.

“Hello?” He answered in the stern, hurried way he always does. “Hey Bob.” “Patrick?! You’re calling early, everything okay?” He seemed concerned. “Yeah, I actually had to come back home, can you let me in? I’ll explain.” “Sure, be right there.”

He came to the back door and let me in. My mother was in the kitchen with a surprised look on her face. I set my belongings on the island. “We have a problem,” I said.

“Excuse me young man, why do you have a gun? What’s going on?” My mother was almost hyperventilating. “Listen, I didn’t kill anybody…living…you’re just not going to believe what happened, and what is happening.”

I didn’t even know how to start. I took it from 1:30 a.m. telling about the man on the side of the road, the traffic, the first kill, the trucker…oh, the trucker. I started crying when I talked about the trucker. I told them about the toll booths and how i checked around their house already.

They were speechless.

“Mom, this virus is spreading. I don’t know what to do, or how to protect everyone I love, and I’m freaking out about it. I’ve already killed 5 and my body has been running on adrenaline for the past 4 hours. I can only tell you that this could all get under control, but I doubt it. You just need to know what to do if the shit hits the fan, you need to have some sort of knowledge and preparation.” I never thought I’d ever be giving some sort of lesson to my mother. She’s one of the smartest people I know, if not the smartest.

“Zombies?” My mom asked. “Zombies mom.” “So what do we do Patrick?” Bob asked. “Put a gun in your car, you too mom. Keep some ammunition too. God forbid anything does happen, but if it does, staying calm and collected is the key. If you’re not at your car, and it’s safe to get to it, get to it, get the gun, and aim high. Head shots will be the only thing dispatching a zombie. If you can’t get to your car, get to a blunt or sharp object, and once again, aim high.”

“This is unbelievable,” my mom said. “I know it is, but it’s happening mom. And I don’t think it’s going to stop. Just please be careful, and smart and keep in touch with me, and tell me about any suspicious activity you see.” I was talking very fast, almost panicked, thinking about my mom fighting off a zombie.

“Suspicious activity? Like what?” Mom asked. “Anybody on the side of the road, or in the middle of the road, that looks, well, drunk kind of. If you come across anyone who say they’ve been recently bitten by anything. Or a group of people, all walking the same speed, in the same direction. You’ll know if something is not right. Try not to be worried, even though you’re my mother, and that’s what you do. I need to go talk to dad.”

“Okay bud. This is all pretty scary.” “I know, I know. Just stay calm and alert and don’t panic. This things are slow and clumsy, but deadly. They don’t fear you, so don’t fear them.”

I hugged and kissed both of them, said I love you and took my leave.

“Love you bud.”

They were tough, but I was still scared for them. I didn’t realize how tired I was until I got back into the car. The adrenaline was pumping and a slower rate now that nothing was going on. I had to go to my dad’s though. Nothing was out of the ordinary on the way, they were only like 15 blocks away from each other, so I didn’t really expect anything.

It was around 6, my step-mom Shari had left for work already, my dad was probably still sleeping, something that he seemed to do a lot less of lately. I inspected the front and right side of the house. Nothing. Walking up the neighbor’s driveway to our backyard gate, I noticed the neighbor’s back door was broken, and our gate was open.

“Not good.” I whispered to myself. All I could think about was how I didn’t even know the people’s names who lived there. I don’t even remember meeting them when we moved in next door. I wouldn’t be able to pick them out in a group. I felt terrible about it for some reason. I was probably going to have to kill the neighbors I never even knew. I shook off the thought and walked up the stairs to the door.

For the first time in hours I was feeling fear. Pure. Panicked. Pellucid fear.

5.

“Hello?!” I said loudly. “Is everything okay?” Yeah right, there’s blood dripping from the door and I’m asking if every thing’s okay. I wanted to say some one’s name, but as I established before, after living here 9 years, I had no idea what name I would say.

The back door led through the kitchen. From there I could see a body on the couch in the living room. it was the woman. She was torn apart. I could barely look at her. That’s when I heard a noise behind me. The man of the house was crawling out the back door. He was still alive and coming up from the basement, he didn’t know I was there. The basement. That must be where the beast is lurking.

“Sir,” I whispered, trying not to draw more attention to the thing downstairs. I took a step towards the back door, from which the injured man was fleeing through. The moaning from the basement was starting. I hurried through the kitchen, past the basement door, and out the back silently. The man was on his back at the bottom of the stairs.

He pointed towards my back yard, gasped for a breath, and slipped away. But he won’t be gone for long. I could see into my back yard from the top of the steps. A young man was laying in the grass. his feet started moving. One in the back, one on the ground, one in the basement, one of me. The door behind me pushed open. I jumped down the stairs, over the man on the ground, and turned to look at my enemies. The man on the ground started moving. I wanted to get these two

The young man was still laying in the grass as I entered through the gate. The two behind me followed. Just as the man in the grass was getting up I bolted back through the gate and closed it behind me, hopefully buying me some time. Rushing down the driveway I called my dad.

“Hey dude, you back in Cleveland?” My dad seemed awake already, probably laying in bed watching TV. “Dad, you need to come open the front door.” “What? What’s going on? You’re home?” “I can’t explain right now dad, I just need you to hurry.” “Okay, okay!”

I hated that I just did that to him. Working him up like that, he worries about me enough to begin with, and now this. I felt like a horrible son, a horrible son who came home to save my parents and loved ones.

The door opened. I rushed in.

“What’s going on bud?” “Zombies dad.” “What?” “Don’t ask questions right now, go to the back room, turn on the light in the backyard, there’s three back there, from next door, and I need to take care of them.” “Taken care of? What are you..” “Dad, just turn on the light and stay inside.” I don’t think I’ve ever been more serious with him, and he noticed.

I ran through the kitchen to the garage door. I couldn’t use the gun, it’d be too loud. I saw the light turn on and heard my dad exclaim. I took an aluminum baseball bat and opened the back garage door. The three were huddled around the door where my dad was standing. Needless to say, he was freaked out. I stood behind them.

“Hey!” One turned around and came at me. I swung as hard as I could. I was never good at hitting baseballs going 55 MPH at the batting cages, but I sure as Hell hit this one. I heard that ping sound, that I hated so much from watching the little league world series. He fell, and wasn’t getting back up. The others turned. I took a swing at the first, it skimmed off the front of his face and threw me off balance. I stumbled across the body on the ground and fell. This wasn’t going well, and to make it worse, the body on the ground started moving, crawling for my legs. I kicked and squirmed until I got to my feet.

My dad yelled out, asking if I was okay and if he could do something.

“Uhhhh!” I was trying to think fast, I needed something else besides the bat. “Knives! Get knives!” I dodged past the creatures to the side of the house where our gardening tools were. I got a shovel, and ran back to the doorway. I hit the closest one on top of the head with the shovel. The impact pulsed through the arms as the man fell. My dad came to the door with a knife set. He was surprisingly calm and contained. He trusted me. I grabbed three or four. “Thanks, I know how screwed up this is.”

The first crawler made his way towards me. I kicked up at it’s chin and knocked it’s head back. I was working off of pure instinct now. I got on the ground and put my forearm under it’s chin, crushing down on it’s throat. It gurgled. I pushed a knife into it’s left ear, puncturing the brain. It laid still.

The two uprights were waiting for me when I got to my feet. I stored a clean knife between my teeth and took up the shovel, I swung down on the first and stepped back. As it brought it’s head back up, I plunged a knife to it’s head, missing it’s ear but landing into it’s left temple. I stepped back again and swung the shovel like a bat. the surface area of the shovel’s head pounded the knife into it’s skull like a hammer and nail. It fell. One left. I ran around it, giving me some distance, some time to think. It was still within reach, so I swung the shovel again. It hit and broke on the handle. The blow didn’t effect the beast must. I had the broken handle in my hand still. Sharp and splintered at the end. I lunged forward and aimed for the face. The handle punctured it’s eye socket and he fell backwards. I rushed for the bat, and came back to the body. I pounded the handle further into it’s head, and dropped the bat.

Eight.

My heart was racing, my vision seemed blurred, and I hardly knew what to do with myself. My dad called my name. I looked towards him. I let out a big breath and walked to the door.

“Zombies?” “Zombies.” “Want to tell me what happened? Besides what I just saw? Or do you not have the time?” “No, let’s talk. I’m going to need some coffee.” “I’ll make some cups, you sit and rest.”

I collapsed onto a chair in the dining room.

“I’d say you’ve been watching too many zombie movies, but that couldn’t possibly be the explanation for this eh?”

I laughed. “No dad, this is the real thing.”

6.

My dad couldn't believe a word I was saying, but he had to. he saw those things with his own eyes. He saw the blood, the bones, and the brutality of it all. This poor man was forced to believe something that no one ever thought they'd have to believe. I felt kind of bad.

It was 7:30, and I was on my forth cup of coffee. I was still tired. I longed for sleep at this point. The smell of my bed, the touch of a cold pillow to my face, the sound of the breeze coming in the window, the sight of the back of my eyelids, and even the taste in my mouth upon waking up. Every bit of my wanted it, but my heart had a discrepancy . It was still pumping as fast as ever. I wasn't allowed to calm down yet, I wasn't allowed to let my guard down for a minute, but I was still oh, so tired. By the end of my forth cup my phone rang.

"Who calls you at 7:30 in the morning?" My dad asked. "No idea. Dennis probably, wondering where the bread is or something." I chuckled and looked at my phone.

"Delaney Coady? Weird." I answered. "Hello?" "Hey Patrick. Sorry, did I wake you?" Her voice was low, frightened. "Ha. If you only knew. No, you did not wake me. What's going on?" "I didn't know who else to call. I thought there was a chance you were home, for your birthday or something," she said. "Well I actually never made is passed Erie, I had to come back," I was ready to explain everything when she cut me off. "There's people outside my house Pat. Walking very slowly, and moaning. They look sickly, and gruesome, and like.." "Zombies? I've already encountered some myself."

She was silent.

"So this is what I think it is?" She asked. "One hundred percent. Lock your doors, close your windows, and stay where you are. I'm coming over. Just be smart and stay calm until I get there. Come on, you know what to do just as well as I do." I could tell she was smiling. "Just hurry up," she said.

"Got someone to save?" My dad asked. "Not really save, she'd be able to handle herself. We've always said we'd be a team if the shit ever hit the fan, so I'm gonna go make sure she doesn't get in over her head. Hell, she'll do the same for me." "So what do I do then?" He asked. "I don't know really. I let mom and Bob go to work. They both took guns and I told them everything I told you. I mean, there's a chance that everything could go just fine, but there's also a chance that it won't, ya know?" "I'll just call in, stay here, maybe wait this out?" "I'm not sure if that part will happen, but feel free to stay home. Have weapons ready, keep everything closed and locked, and at the sight or sound of anything suspicious call me."

"Okay bud. Be careful. I know you will, but if I worry this much about you when there's not zombies, imagine how much I do when there are, and you're out fighting them." We shared a hug. "I'll be careful dad. You too. Keep in touch, stay calm, and aim high." I smiled and got up to go to the door.

I had a bat, some knives, a tire iron, and a gun running low on bullets.

The sun was coming up on Kenmore. Such a beautiful morning considering what an ugly night it was. I knew this golden sky would just be broken by the sight of more undead, so I savored it. I breathed in the morning air and listened to the birds sing their melodies as I got into my car. Such a shame that a day like this will be ruined.

Delaney's house wasn't far at all, less than a mile probably. Down East Girard, past Delaware Ave, down West Girard, onto and down Elmwood, then onto Tremont. First house on the left after the parking lot and store front. I parked in that parking lot, collected my things, and called Delaney.

"Are you here?" She asked. "Yeah, before I just go storming up to your house though, can you look at your front window and tell me what you see?" "Sure, here goes." She got startled. "There's one right up at the window, and it's knocking on it now that it saw me." "What about the rest?"

She took a breath.

"One's at the door, and the third..is..wandering across the street." "Three? That's it?" I asked. "That's all I can see." "Okay, piece of cake, I guess." "What's the plan?" She asked. "Uh, I'll worry about the two in front, and we'll keep an eye out for the one across the street after? That is if it doesn't make it's way over towards the commotion I'm about to cause," I took a breath, "be ready at the front door to let me in if anything goes wrong?" "Okay Patrick, be careful." "I will."

I creeped around the building. I could see them. A woman at the door, and a man stuck in the bush at the window. Door first. I got to the driveway and dropped the tire iron on the pavement. The sound made the woman turn. She came down the stairs and towards me.

Ping.

My aim was getting better I though. Not good enough though. Maybe it was the bat. Either way, she came back for more. I backed up and swung up and her chin. Her neck snapped back, I could hear it. I went to her side and swung down onto her face, she fell and I delivered two more blows. Crushed. Nine. Thank God my undead friend over by the window was stuck in the bushes.

Delaney opened the door. "You okay?" "Yeah, gimme a minute."

I walked over and took a knife from my pocket. I was feeling cocky. I grabbed it by the neck with my left hand and plunged the knife into it's left temple. I pulled it out, and stabbed into it's ear. It hunched over into the bushes. Ten.

I looked at Delaney and cracked a smile. She looked down and get concerned. I looked down as well and saw blood dripping down my left arm. When I grabbed it's neck it must have grabbed me back and clawed it's way through my skin, and I didn't even notice.

"Well shit," I said. "Come in right now. We have to disinfect that," she demanded. "Okay mom." I laughed, she glared. "Sorry. At least our friend across the street didn't mosey on over. We have to keep an eye out for it though." "Let's worry about getting that arm cleaned up first." "Okay, okay."

I got inside and sat on the couch. The room was warm, like I wasn't sweating profusely already. Delaney came in with some peroxide, a cloth, gauze, and tape.

"Thanks for coming. You handled that like a pro," she said, holding my arm steady. I laughed, then cringed as she drenched my arm in peroxide. "Ouch. You're welcome. I'm surprised you even called, youcould have handled that too." "Come on, we've been talking about this for like two years now, I couldn't pass up the chance to have you kill some zombie scum outside my house." We both laughed. "We got a plan?" She asked.

I looked at her, looked at my arm, then looked back up.

"Nope."

Open Windows: A Historical Fiction Piece on Salvador Dali

This story is from spring of 2009. An assignment given by Mr. Scarisbrick in 12th grade English. "Write a historical fiction piece on any subject." I wrote the majority of this story sitting in a Panera, gulping away at coffee. I was actually the only 100% he gave out on this assignment. This is probably one of the favorite things I did in all of high school.

Open Windows

A violent gust of wind blew the window open. It knocked on the wall repetitively until I got the courage to close it, and lock it tight. The wind died down, but again the window blew free, free of its lock, free of its prison sealed to the pane. This house truly was haunted.

I always read before I fall asleep. Tonight it was a ghost story, the same story told in every ghost story. It eases my mind though. I couldn’t help but think about how my windows are never locked. The thought wasn’t motivation to lock them, just a thought. As your mind drifts off into that serene place, you often think a lot.

During the night, a lifeless gust of air blew the window free. Blew it open rather, for my windows are never locked, making the windows unable to be freed of anything. Nevertheless, it was open, much like the ghostly story I had just read. I wasn’t worried, how can one worry while they are asleep? The clement breeze grazed my face and I unconsciously turned in my sleep, putting my back towards the warm air, and relieving my face of its touch.

A dream, a succession of images and thoughts passed through my mind. It seemed to coincide with real life at first, but as the sensible logic faded to lucid obscurities, I subconsciously realized that I was indeed in a dream.

“Been living here long?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond, I knew I was dreaming, but I couldn’t form the words in my mouth to answer the giant cloud.

“No, I just moved in.”

As I looked around I was suddenly sitting at a table having coffee with the cloud. It’s strange how things can change so quickly in your dreams.

“How about you sir? Lived here long?”

“I’ve been here as long as I can remember. This is good coffee”

“I’m glad you like it.”

It felt normal, talking to the cloud. His personality seemed to match his appearance.

I drank and drank and drank, but the cup never emptied. I must have been thirsty. I was running. Where did my large cloud friend go? What was I running from? I tried looking behind me, but as my head turned, the surroundings turned as well. I couldn’t break the focus from where I was running, and I couldn’t stop. Maybe I wasn’t running from anything. I was running to something.

There was a monumental being in the distance. My steps grew to those of a giant’s. My hands felt swelled and heavy. I knew I was bigger than I was before, but the scene before me was still greater. Suddenly my feet stopped moving, throwing my body weight forward and causing me to fly through the air. I knew I couldn’t be hurt, but I still had fear in my eyes.

My wife turned on the bedroom light, unaware of her sleeping husband.

My surrounding turned to white and I was not flying anymore. I was seated.

She realized her mistake and quickly hit the switch.

I was still seated, but the room was black. I don’t even know if I’m in a room. I could be anywhere.

As I start to move a new light flickers on in front of me. It was a sign. Not a metaphorical sign, but it was literally, a sign. The neon light read “Dada’s”.

A door seemed to melt into my view, right under the sign. Next a window, and another, and before I knew it, a whole building was set in front of me.

It was a coffee shop. I’m not sure what my deal with coffee is. It looks to be a reoccurring theme. I thought to open the door. I couldn’t help myself, really. I could not stop my hand from reaching for the handle of the shop.

A bell rang as the door opened. It was raining… in the café, but why should that be a surprise? I took the umbrella from my pocket and opened it.

“7 years bad luck, my boy.”

I couldn’t tell who was talking to me. Everyone’s face was blurry and fading with every rain drop.

I sat down in a booth. It was small, like a booth that a couple would usually sit in, but smaller. How was I even fitting? I must not have been that giant figure I thought I was before. Time felt permanently stuck until a waiter came to my attention.

He was wearing a hat. This hat had arms and hands coming out of the top. The left held a quill, the right, a pad of paper.

“I didn’t know people still wrote with quills. Don’t you need ink to go with it?”

He looked at me like I was the one with 4 arms. I noticed that his face wasn’t melting like everyone else’s. He actually looked familiar. I knew exactly who he was. I looked down at the left hand, connected to the left arm protruding from his body. He was holding a jar of ink. I felt foolish.

“What do you want? You know you have to get something in order to be here. So what do you want? What will you have?”

“I’ll have a coffee, sir.”

“Hot or cold?”

What kind of question was that?

“Hot please.”

With those words, his body started to shift, he turned flux. His arms were those of a clock’s. He started to walk away. He bent and broke the whole way back to the kitchen.

The bell rang again. Three men walked in. Their legs were long, about an elephant’s height, but they were twig thin. The rest of their bodies were proportional. They simultaneously pulled out their umbrella, as I had done. The trio sat at the counter together. I couldn’t make out who they were. Just then, lights turned on inside of their umbrella and I could see their faces. It was Lorca, Bunuel, and Tzara. The waiter came to them right away. I could hear them like they were right next to me, like they were in my head,

I stuck my fingers in my ears and pressed hard until my hands were both engulfed into my own head. I could still hear them talking, talking with the waiter about me. Even worse, I could see each individual word coming out of each man.

Their thoughts were being created from their mouths.

They all ordered cold coffee and stared my way when the waiter told them that I ordered mine hot. Their shunning looks punctured my eyes and I made contact.

The waiter made his way to my tiny booth. He set the cup of coffee on the table. It was glowing red with heat. I stared at it. It actually started to hurt my eyes.

“Are you going to drink it with your mouth or with your eyes, buddy?”

With the holes drilled into my eyes with their glares, I could’ve poured the liquid right in.

“It’s scolding! I think I’ll let it cool before I do anything.”

“You ordered it hot. So drink it hot. Drink your coffee sir. You can’t let it go to waste.”

“I’ll burn my-”

“Drink it.”

I pulled my hand out of my head, not even realizing that they were still there and wrapped them around the porcelain mug. I could feel the heat getting closer to my face. The coffee hit my lips. Lava ran down my throat and made my body glow with warmth. Lorca, Bunuel, and Tzara were now standing with the waiter around me.

“Is there a problem boys?” I asked them. “I don’t want trouble. I’m drinking the coffee, see?”

I took another sip. Tzara stepped forward. He knocked the cup from my hands and grabbed my arms. Lorca ripped the table from the tile and tossed it effortlessly. He grabbed my legs. Bunuel swiped my umbrella from the air. It had been floating above me keeping me dry. Theirs were floating as well.

The waiter took me from their grasps into his own. He carried me to the door with his hat hands. His other pair opened the door and hurled me out. As I hit the ground, the windows of the shop were thrown wide open and I sank down through the ground, through the sand, until I was lying down.

“That’s what happened doc. Any thoughts?”

“Many my friend, many.”

My psychiatrist called me “friend”. It was nice.

“The dream is a creator. It’s an instigator of action, and it’s capable of dialectically resolving the contradiction between desire and reality. In your dream, you were running from reality, I do believe. I know you my boy; you don’t have a passion for reality.”

He went on.

“The café. Dada’s was it? It symbolizes your involvement in the dada and surrealist movement, does it not? I believe it does. The thought of total liberty: Social, moral, and intellectual, and of course, thought is made in your mouth. Are you following?”

I nodded.

“I believe that the 3 men, Lorca, Bunuel, and Tzara, was it? They are friends of yours. Correct? Or so you thought. Lorca was your poet friend. Frederico Garcia Lorca.”

He said his name with a strange, humorous accent. It added some pizzazz to the words.

“And Bunuel, your film making friend was there and Tzara, the brains behind your little dada movement, your nihilist, chaotic, unserious, dark group.”

“All that you’re saying is true doc. And the waiter was-”

“Breton. Andre Breton.”

Again with the accent.

“That man did not like you very much, eh? He’s the reason you’re not part of your beloved group anymore. He expelled you. What a shame. You were doing good things.”

“Thank you.”

“So, you being kicked out of this café is a symbol of how Breton excommunicated you, if you will, from surrealism.”

“That sounds reasonable doc. I’m beginning to understand, this might take more sessions though.”

“As you wish. Brilliant dream my friend, brilliant.”

“Well, thank for your help. How much to I owe you for today?”

“This session’s free. You don’t pay when you’re dreaming.”

“Dreaming?”

He laughed.

“You’re still asleep my friend. After sinking through into the sand you landed here. Never did you wake up.”

My eyes opened. I was staring up at bright fluorescent lights. I couldn’t talk. But I could hear, and my vision was coming back.

“He’s coming to Gala, come see,” a voice said.

I saw my wife hovering over me. She touched my face.

“Sal honey, you’re at Piguera Hospital. You never woke up this morning, so I brought you here. I was scared.”

I could feel my eyes getting weary again. I wanted to keep looking at her lovely face, but my beautiful wife was turning gray. Her voice was fading. I drifted back to sleep, doomed to live in my dreams for the rest of eternity. I didn’t mind though, I sure did like dreams.

“I’m afraid that we just lost him Mrs. Dali. I’m terribly sorry.”

“I love you Sal,” my wife whispered, knowing that I couldn’t hear her.

I could see her now though. She always looked so good in my dreams.