Kaley Allard is from the wonderful land of Green Bay,
Wisconsin. She traveled such a long journey to attend school at St. Norbert
College. Do not make Kaley mad for she has a black belt in tae kwon
do and will certainly kick your butt!
However, showing her “softer” side, Kaley loves the Disney animated film Tangled. When not
working on her tae kwon do or singing to “At Last I See the Light,” Kaley is
the Managing Editor for the St. Norbert Times. The inspiration for her story
came from Kaley’s extreme love for zombies and AMC’s The Walking Dead. “Flesh and Blood” is a story about the zombie
infection sinking in throughout the country and a family’s fight to stay in
their human form.
Samantha Frinzi
Samantha Frinzi
Flesh and blood
By Kaley Allard
It was hot that June day; so hot the sweat sizzled off
of his forehead as he took one last drag on his cigarette. The radio was dusty,
the dials smeared with the oil from his hands, but he listened to that Sanyo
radio religiously, as it was his only source of entertainment in that one stall
auto body shop. That is where Roy first heard of the outbreak. Some sort of
bacterial infection is what the government was calling it. They reassured
citizens that those infected were quarantined and no need for panic but some
preventative measures should be taken. Unfortunately for humanity, the
government was wrong, they did not know what they were up against.
* * *
Roy was a sensible guy, sensible enough to know not to panic, but to be overly cautious. As the days passed, newscasts of the infection were rapidly growing. Quarantined individuals had escaped, and the outbreak had now begun to spread from state to state. In a panic, the government had shut down and it was now every man for himself. Roy knew that it was now in fact, time to close up shop and go home to protect his wife and daughter.
* * *
Heather and Roy pulled Sarah out of school when news of the infection first spread, already knowing the breeding ground of bacteria that is a public school. They boarded up the doors and windows of their one hundred and fifteen year old farm house, leaving one door untouched to use when needed to run for extra supplies. They kept a month’s worth of supplies inside the home, and the rest they stockpiled in the cellar in case things got worse: water, batteries, blankets, canned goods, matches, first aid kit, a hodgepodge of medicinal items, a two way radio, as well as weapons and ammunition. Their neighbors evacuated their rural town, leaving Roy, Heather and Sarah on their own.
* * *
As the weeks passed, they began to see the first signs of the infection. The town had become deserted, no planes flew overhead, no mail in days and none of those damn salesmen knocking at his door trying to sell him another Hoover vacuum, not that Roy was sad to see them go. It was on a Wednesday that they first saw signs of the infected. They were walking down the street, looking like ‘a band of beaten down protestors’ was how Roy put it. They were partially decomposed, their internal body parts exposed, looking like the bodies that one would find after a war.
* * *
It was now a rule that Sarah was never to leave the confines of the home. Either Heather or Roy would have to go to the cellar for supplies, but never both; someone needed to look after Sarah. As you can imagine being cooped up in a house all day is not a six year olds idea of fun. Luckily she had her trusty feline, Mr. Kitty, to play with and keep her company. On this day it was Heather’s turn to search the neighborhood for supplies and she decided to venture farther than she had before. Sarah’s seventh birthday was only a few short days away and Heather desperately wanted to find some sweets for her, thinking to herself, “Maybe I can even find some chocolate pudding.” She wandered down the road and approached the home of the Carleton’s. Heather knew that they had children, and assumed that they would have some sort of sweets in the house.
She brought along her flute from high school, a tool to use to lure the zombies to come towards the windows, that way she could then thrust her knife into their perverted and decaying heads, killing them instantly. To her surprise no zombies emerged, so she assumed that the home was clear. She entered through the kitchen and began rummaging through the cupboards for any type of food. She came upon the pantry, opening it she saw what she had been looking for, chocolate pudding. Unbeknownst to her, the shell of what used to be the youngest Carleton boy came up behind her. He grabbed her and clamped down on her neck. She turned and drove her knife through his head, escaping from his grasps and running for the door.
* * *
Heather made it to the front lawn and Roy, who had seen her coming, was there waiting for her. Roy had been in such a mad rush to reach his wife he did not bother chasing after Mr. Kitty who had snuck out of the door behind him. Heather collapsed in his arms and he could see that her wound was extensive. He brought her into the house and laid her in the bathtub, praying that she could be the one to survive the infection. After a few days of immense pain, Heather eventually passed out from the fever. Roy knew that he needed to find some type of antibiotic and fast. So he locked the door to the bathroom leaving a copy of her favorite fairy tale, Sleeping Beauty, on the toilet seat.
* * *
Roy was frantically searching the pharmacy for any antibiotics he could find to no avail, he realized that others had ransacked the place of anything useful far before he had arrived. Having made a few runs for supplies prior to this one Roy knew that he was running out of ammo and he knew Heather was running out of time. In the meantime Sarah had left the safety of the couch and crept up the stairs, hoping to get a glimpse of her mother.
* * *
He raced back home, killing anything and everything in his path, not caring about his dwindling supply of ammo. He ran into the house, unlocked the bathroom door but witnessed what he had feared the most, Heather was gone; it was only a matter of time before she turned into one of them. Roy knew what he should do but he could not bring himself to kill the love of his life, the mother of his seven year old daughter.
* * *
He knew they had to leave; he grabbed Sarah along with the simple pack of supplies they had. Roy was sure they could make it; the cellar was only sixty feet from the house. He opened the door, gun drawn, looking like a psychotic version of Rambo. All looked calm with the world, a low fog was rolling over the dew covered grass. He placed Sarah in front of himself and told her to walk towards the cellar, he would be right behind her. As soon as they got off the porch was when Sarah saw a zombie for the first time. It was an old woman, limping towards them with a broken ankle. Roy could feel Sarah trembling beside him; he reassured her saying, “Don’t worry, she will not be able to catch us before we reach the cellar.” Sarah knew this, her mother and father had taught her well in what to do and what not to do when confronted with a zombie. Sarah replied, “I know, Daddy, but I don’t remember what to do if one gets too close.” Unfortunately, as the fog began to subside, the pair saw the horror that surrounded them. Zombies coming from every direction. Sarah saw that her old friend, Mr. Kitty, had become one of them and was devastated.
* * *
The horde of mindless, decaying zombies was right behind them, growing ever so close to the pair. You could hear the squish of the flesh as they got closer and the groans of their hunger for flesh becoming louder and louder, “Guh. Muk. Gur.” Roy made sure that Sarah went into the cellar first, staying behind to use his remaining bullets on the collection of zombies that seemed to grow larger by the second. He looked back one last time on the world which he once knew. With a final flurry of bullets and fear Roy did not have time to notice that a zombie had crawled its way to the side of the cellar door and was unsettlingly patient as he waited for him to begin his descent.
* * *
Roy closed the cellar doors behind him, making sure to clamp the padlock, unknowingly endangering the life of his seven year old daughter. He sat on the floor, exhausted from the chase and the fear of losing his daughter. As he did he felt a burning sensation, as if someone was branding him with a hot iron. He looked down at his ankle and saw what he had feared most, a single bite wound. Roy knew what was going to happen, he just was not sure how long it was going to take, everyone was different.
* * *
Sarah did not know how many days she had been in the cellar, only that she could not remember the last time she had slept. She could hear the constant scratching and groans as the zombies tried to enter the cellar, needing to satisfy their hunger. The rotting, lifeless corpse of her father lay in the corner. A single gunshot to the head was how she did it. Sarah saw the wound before he could cover it back up and she knew what she would have to do. She did it while he was sleeping, the fever slowly creeping up on him, ready to take over the shell of the man that he once was.
* * *
She awoke to the noise of gunshots and the sound of an axe chopping at the decaying wood of the cellar door. Sarah instinctively ran to the darkest corner of the cellar, covering herself with the quilt that her mother made when Sarah was only a baby. After the cellar door was finally broken open, she heard the voices of men, excited by their find of supplies. Sarah was doing her best to keep quiet but she let out a small yelp, like the sound of a dog when it has its tail stepped on. Instinctively the men looked towards the door, wondering if more zombies had wandered that way. Seeing no danger the men continued to pilfer through the supplies. One man noticed the quilt in the corner, thinking it would be of use against the elements, he grabbed it, only to realize what was underneath. Assuming that she was infected, they drew their weapons, ready to fire at her slightest movement. As she was about to speak, a single shot was fired in the cellar.
To be continued...
* * *
Roy was a sensible guy, sensible enough to know not to panic, but to be overly cautious. As the days passed, newscasts of the infection were rapidly growing. Quarantined individuals had escaped, and the outbreak had now begun to spread from state to state. In a panic, the government had shut down and it was now every man for himself. Roy knew that it was now in fact, time to close up shop and go home to protect his wife and daughter.
* * *
Heather and Roy pulled Sarah out of school when news of the infection first spread, already knowing the breeding ground of bacteria that is a public school. They boarded up the doors and windows of their one hundred and fifteen year old farm house, leaving one door untouched to use when needed to run for extra supplies. They kept a month’s worth of supplies inside the home, and the rest they stockpiled in the cellar in case things got worse: water, batteries, blankets, canned goods, matches, first aid kit, a hodgepodge of medicinal items, a two way radio, as well as weapons and ammunition. Their neighbors evacuated their rural town, leaving Roy, Heather and Sarah on their own.
* * *
As the weeks passed, they began to see the first signs of the infection. The town had become deserted, no planes flew overhead, no mail in days and none of those damn salesmen knocking at his door trying to sell him another Hoover vacuum, not that Roy was sad to see them go. It was on a Wednesday that they first saw signs of the infected. They were walking down the street, looking like ‘a band of beaten down protestors’ was how Roy put it. They were partially decomposed, their internal body parts exposed, looking like the bodies that one would find after a war.
* * *
It was now a rule that Sarah was never to leave the confines of the home. Either Heather or Roy would have to go to the cellar for supplies, but never both; someone needed to look after Sarah. As you can imagine being cooped up in a house all day is not a six year olds idea of fun. Luckily she had her trusty feline, Mr. Kitty, to play with and keep her company. On this day it was Heather’s turn to search the neighborhood for supplies and she decided to venture farther than she had before. Sarah’s seventh birthday was only a few short days away and Heather desperately wanted to find some sweets for her, thinking to herself, “Maybe I can even find some chocolate pudding.” She wandered down the road and approached the home of the Carleton’s. Heather knew that they had children, and assumed that they would have some sort of sweets in the house.
She brought along her flute from high school, a tool to use to lure the zombies to come towards the windows, that way she could then thrust her knife into their perverted and decaying heads, killing them instantly. To her surprise no zombies emerged, so she assumed that the home was clear. She entered through the kitchen and began rummaging through the cupboards for any type of food. She came upon the pantry, opening it she saw what she had been looking for, chocolate pudding. Unbeknownst to her, the shell of what used to be the youngest Carleton boy came up behind her. He grabbed her and clamped down on her neck. She turned and drove her knife through his head, escaping from his grasps and running for the door.
* * *
Heather made it to the front lawn and Roy, who had seen her coming, was there waiting for her. Roy had been in such a mad rush to reach his wife he did not bother chasing after Mr. Kitty who had snuck out of the door behind him. Heather collapsed in his arms and he could see that her wound was extensive. He brought her into the house and laid her in the bathtub, praying that she could be the one to survive the infection. After a few days of immense pain, Heather eventually passed out from the fever. Roy knew that he needed to find some type of antibiotic and fast. So he locked the door to the bathroom leaving a copy of her favorite fairy tale, Sleeping Beauty, on the toilet seat.
* * *
Roy was frantically searching the pharmacy for any antibiotics he could find to no avail, he realized that others had ransacked the place of anything useful far before he had arrived. Having made a few runs for supplies prior to this one Roy knew that he was running out of ammo and he knew Heather was running out of time. In the meantime Sarah had left the safety of the couch and crept up the stairs, hoping to get a glimpse of her mother.
* * *
He raced back home, killing anything and everything in his path, not caring about his dwindling supply of ammo. He ran into the house, unlocked the bathroom door but witnessed what he had feared the most, Heather was gone; it was only a matter of time before she turned into one of them. Roy knew what he should do but he could not bring himself to kill the love of his life, the mother of his seven year old daughter.
* * *
He knew they had to leave; he grabbed Sarah along with the simple pack of supplies they had. Roy was sure they could make it; the cellar was only sixty feet from the house. He opened the door, gun drawn, looking like a psychotic version of Rambo. All looked calm with the world, a low fog was rolling over the dew covered grass. He placed Sarah in front of himself and told her to walk towards the cellar, he would be right behind her. As soon as they got off the porch was when Sarah saw a zombie for the first time. It was an old woman, limping towards them with a broken ankle. Roy could feel Sarah trembling beside him; he reassured her saying, “Don’t worry, she will not be able to catch us before we reach the cellar.” Sarah knew this, her mother and father had taught her well in what to do and what not to do when confronted with a zombie. Sarah replied, “I know, Daddy, but I don’t remember what to do if one gets too close.” Unfortunately, as the fog began to subside, the pair saw the horror that surrounded them. Zombies coming from every direction. Sarah saw that her old friend, Mr. Kitty, had become one of them and was devastated.
* * *
The horde of mindless, decaying zombies was right behind them, growing ever so close to the pair. You could hear the squish of the flesh as they got closer and the groans of their hunger for flesh becoming louder and louder, “Guh. Muk. Gur.” Roy made sure that Sarah went into the cellar first, staying behind to use his remaining bullets on the collection of zombies that seemed to grow larger by the second. He looked back one last time on the world which he once knew. With a final flurry of bullets and fear Roy did not have time to notice that a zombie had crawled its way to the side of the cellar door and was unsettlingly patient as he waited for him to begin his descent.
* * *
Roy closed the cellar doors behind him, making sure to clamp the padlock, unknowingly endangering the life of his seven year old daughter. He sat on the floor, exhausted from the chase and the fear of losing his daughter. As he did he felt a burning sensation, as if someone was branding him with a hot iron. He looked down at his ankle and saw what he had feared most, a single bite wound. Roy knew what was going to happen, he just was not sure how long it was going to take, everyone was different.
* * *
Sarah did not know how many days she had been in the cellar, only that she could not remember the last time she had slept. She could hear the constant scratching and groans as the zombies tried to enter the cellar, needing to satisfy their hunger. The rotting, lifeless corpse of her father lay in the corner. A single gunshot to the head was how she did it. Sarah saw the wound before he could cover it back up and she knew what she would have to do. She did it while he was sleeping, the fever slowly creeping up on him, ready to take over the shell of the man that he once was.
* * *
She awoke to the noise of gunshots and the sound of an axe chopping at the decaying wood of the cellar door. Sarah instinctively ran to the darkest corner of the cellar, covering herself with the quilt that her mother made when Sarah was only a baby. After the cellar door was finally broken open, she heard the voices of men, excited by their find of supplies. Sarah was doing her best to keep quiet but she let out a small yelp, like the sound of a dog when it has its tail stepped on. Instinctively the men looked towards the door, wondering if more zombies had wandered that way. Seeing no danger the men continued to pilfer through the supplies. One man noticed the quilt in the corner, thinking it would be of use against the elements, he grabbed it, only to realize what was underneath. Assuming that she was infected, they drew their weapons, ready to fire at her slightest movement. As she was about to speak, a single shot was fired in the cellar.
To be continued...