Friday Flash - 13A, Part 4

And now the conclusion of my short story, 13A. If you're just joining us, our buddy Gerald has gotten himself in a dilly of a pickle with his neighbor Mrs. Kratz. Could zombies really be taking over the town? Or are they just the delusions of one very lonely old woman? Read parts 1, 2, and 3 to decide! Merry Christmas, everyone.

13A

Part 4

Gerald staggered to the couch just as his knees gave way, collapsing in a heap. “Mrs. Kratz. Please. This is crazy.” He tried his best to keep his voice even.

“Crazy? Who are you to call me crazy? I'm not making this stuff up. Hell I kept all the papers. Here, I’ll show you. They don’t lie.” The old woman shuffled into the kitchen and returned with a stack of newspapers. She flipped through them for a moment, then flopped a paper onto his lap. “Here we go. Six days ago, just like I said.”

Gerald looked at the headline.

Explosion Rocks Peruvian Village, Officials Blame Meteoric Activity

“And this one too. This was two days ago.”

More Die Mysteriously in South American Locale

“I don’t remember seeing these.” His mouth was dry. A twinge of worry crept into his gut. He shoved it away. It was ridiculous.“You don’t watch the news?”

“The news is depressing. Murders, rapes, child molestation. No, I never watch the news.”

“Then you’ve missed out on a lot, cowboy.”

 “But none of those articles say anything about zombies. It’s just some kind of weird virus or something.”

“You’ve got to read between the lines. You think they’d put something like that in print? What respectable journalist would?”

“But the articles don’t say anything of the sort. They don’t prove anything at all. I mean, why zombies? Reading this you could have just as easily said it was werewolves or vampires or something.”

“Goddamn it, son. Are you mocking me or something? You think I need to prove myself to you? Why zombies? Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Because it’s the only thing that makes sense, damn it. I can feel it in the air. Something’s wrong here. I don’t need to read it in the paper to know that. Some things a woman just knows. I know what’s out there just as sure as I know you’ll be torn to pieces if you try to face it alone.”

Gerald put his face in hands and rubbed his temples. The headache he had awoken with pounded his skull and the room suddenly felt too small, as if the walls might cave in and crush him. The air felt thick and sticky. He could feel his heartbeat behind his eyes, in his throat. An image, gray and evil, flashed in front of his eyes, a remnant of the past.

He had to hang on.

Gerald took and breath and lumbered to the window again, hoping, praying that this time he’d look out to see a bustling street full of people.

But again it was empty.

Gerald stood in disbelief. It was impossible. Ten o’clock on a weekday and the streets were as morosely bare as if it were midnight in some Bosnian war zone. Where the hell was everybody?

“Starting to figure it out, aren’t you, get that feeling that I’ve got? Starting to make a little sense?”

“None of this makes sense.” He pointed out the window toward the street below as sweat began to bead on his upper lip. “And this still means nothing.”

“I think it means quite a bit of something. And I also think we both know that life often makes little sense eh, Mr. Dozier? Isn’t that something you learned in that hospital bed? Or can you even call that place you were in a hospital?”

Hearing those words come from this woman, this near stranger, shook him. How could she know? How could she possibly?

“You alright there, cowboy?” a voice asked. “You’re looking a little pale.”

“Yeah. Fine.”

“Some water maybe? Better grab you a cold bottle from the Frigidaire. Tap might be tainted already.”

As Mrs. Kratz turned and stepped into the kitchen, Gerald sprawled himself onto the couch. The hangover and the heat of the room were making the room spin. Again, he wondered where Nicole was, what she was doing. He wished she was there with him, crazy old woman or not, just so he could know she was safe. Though with the way Mrs. Kratz had been wielding that shotgun, safe was a bit of a relative term. Still, better here than out there with the zomb—.

My God, enough of this craziness, he thought. Nicole is fine. The world is fine. This insanity ends now.

Gerald sprung from the sofa. If he was lucky, he could be back under the covers of his own bed before Mrs. Kratz even realized he was gone.

Now or never.

He took a breath and broke for the door. As his legs struggled, stiff from the adrenaline, the ten feet began to feel like miles. Five feet now, the world in some strange slow motion, as if he was running through a thick oil. Three feet. He reached out and placed his hand on the knob. Freedom.

But before he could turn the polished brass something stopped him—a sound, so soft it was almost inaudible, coming from the other side. He paused, put his ear to the door, and listened. Gerald found himself immobile, literally frozen with fear.

Someone was scratching at the door.

In shock, Gerald took two steps backward, striking the back of his knees on the coffee table and tumbling to the carpet in a heap as Mrs. Kratz returned from the kitchen, bottle of water in hand. As if responding to the commotion inside, the sound grew louder, quicker still, almost frantic.

Mrs. Kratz walked across the room with a cool determination, her face blank and expressionless, the hitch from her gait gone. Without a word, she grabbed the shotgun, and strode toward the door as a woman with a purpose, a woman with a destiny.

Gerald lay there motionless on the floor. Terror seeped into every limb, swelled into every finger and toe. His head pounded. As he watched, Mrs. Kratz brought the butt of the gun to her shoulder, gripped the doorknob, and turned, opening the door to reveal the vast world that awaited them both.

He did nothing to stop her.

THE END