Surviving Beyond the Zombie Apocalypse

  The Most Uncommon Cold V:

  Surviving Beyond the Zombie Apocalypse

  Jeffrey Littorno

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  The Most Uncommon Cold V:

  Surviving Beyond the Zombie Apocalypse

  by

  Jeffrey Littorno

  Copyright © 2015 by Jeffrey Littorno

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author Jeffrey Littorno.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Dedication

  This book is only possible because of the support and encouragement I receive on a daily basis.

  Special thanks to Melinda Fox, Terri Prunty Kubernus, Carole Guffanti-Notley, and Tracy Marcy of Insight Editorial for their help in making this story better.

  Thank you to my wife Gyeyeol for putting up with my distraction and obsession throughout this whole process.

  Thanks to you, because if you are reading this, you give me a reason to keep writing.

  Chapter 1

  The rage that had swept over me and sent me back to my classroom breakdown of long ago passed just as quickly as it had arrived.

  I suddenly became aware of my position standing over Kat who was curled up on the floor in a fetal position, trying to protect herself from me. The realization made me sick, and a wave of nausea swallowed my entire body. I turned away from the sight and looked straight into Christina’s eyes.

  “What happened?” I asked, not really wanting to know.

  Taylor chuckled as he said, “What happened is you smacked the sh—, uh, smacked the crap out of her.”

  I turned to face him, and his grin vanished. “I…uh…I hit her?” I asked.

  Kat spun around on the floor to glare at me and yelled, “Yes, you hit me! What the fu—” Her words were cut off by the crash of something falling to the floor in the office.

  We all spun around toward the door leading to the hallway to the office. Christina moaned and whimpered. Taylor immediately moved next to her.

  “It’ll be okay,” he whispered, pulling the little girl closer to him.

  I took a few steps over toward Kat who made a show of backing away before I offered my hand. She took it slowly and got to her feet. The glare never left her face, and I did my best not to make eye contact. Right now, we had bigger concerns than the problems Kat and I had.

  I moved near the door and strained to hear any other sounds from the office. There was a sort of muffled scratching sound.

  “The accounts receivable ledger should be in the file cabinet,” a flat calm male voice said.

  The sound froze me in place.

  In the next instant, Kat pushed by me into the hallway. “That’s Paul! He came back!” She trotted down the hall toward the office.

  “Kat!” I hissed as I ran after her.

  She ran down the hall and stopped a few feet away from a shell.

  “The accounts receivable ledger should be in the file cabinet,” the shell repeated.

  I looked at the bloated face of the shell and tried to remember Paul. Other than a vague image of a heavyset Asian guy in the advertising department, I had no memory of him.

  “Where did you…” Kat stopped speaking as she stumbled backward.

  The shell’s arms snaked around her shoulders and pulled her closer as if into some obscene embrace.

  “Stop it, Paul!” Kat shouted. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

  The instant she finished speaking, I pushed her away from the shell. Kat responded with a grunt. She hit the wall and spun toward me. “Shit, are you—”

  I turned toward the shell, ready to knock it down. Instead I found that it had moved much closer to me and immediately had its arms wrapped around me in a bear hug. The big shell continued to squeeze as I struggled to get free. My efforts only resulted in my sinking deeper into the cushion of fat. My eyes teared from the rancid odor coming from its mouth as the pale, bloated face moved closer. I turned my head trying to spot anything that would help me. The only thing I could see was Kat staring in horror.

  “Paul, what are you doing?” Kat said quietly. “Let him go.”

  The shell loosened the hold on me for a moment as it looked toward her. After a moment, it turned back toward me and tightened its grip. The chubby shell gazed at my neck before opening its mouth and moving closer. I was unable to move away as the shell’s face closed in on my neck.

  A moment later, Taylor moved into the hallway. He pushed his way between the shell and me. The hammer in his hand struck the shell in the chin. Taylor swung the hammer again, hitting it in the temple.

  I continued to twist my head away from the shell even as the thing stopped moving and collapsed to the floor.

  In the next instant, Kat pushed Taylor away from the shell. “What did you do? You killed Paul?” Her voice reached the screech of hysteria before she suddenly stopped and looked down at the shell sprawled out on the floor.

  “Shit, look at him. It doesn’t really even seem like Paul.” The young woman looked over at Taylor, at me, and back at the shell on the floor. “Maybe it’s not him, you know? It might be some guy that kinda looks like him.” Kat looked back to us. This time with a smile forced on her lips.

  A surprising snicker came from Taylor. “Yeah, those Asians and blacks are really hard to tell apart!”

  Kat stared at him in confusion.

  Before he said anything else, I interrupted him. “Well, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you took off like a crazy bitch and might have gotten us all killed!”

  Now it was Taylor’s turn to experience confusion.

  “I told you before that if you weren’t going to help me keep Christina and Taylor safe, I had no interest in keeping you around.”

  Kat stared down at the shell as if she hadn’t heard anything I said. “I can’t tell if that’s Paul. It can’t be…Paul wouldn’t grab me like that…he…” Her body started shaking with sobs.

  After a moment, Christina stepped closer and put her hand on Kat’s shoulder. “I know you’re sad right now. We’ve all been sad sometimes. Right, Kevin?” She looked over at me, waiting for an answer.

  I looked at the little girl and could not come up with any sort of intelligent response, so I simply nodded.

  Christina smiled at me before continuing. “Sometimes being sad makes us do stuff that’s not so good…stuff like a ding-a-ling would do.” She was not able to stop her giggles at the words. As much as I tried, I was unable to keep a smile from my mouth. Her giggles continued, and Taylor moved closer to see the reason for the noise.

  “What are you laughing about?” Taylor asked, trying to sound gruff.

  Between bursts of giggles, the little girl blurted out, “Did you hear that? ‘Ding-a-ling’…I said…‘ding-a-ling’!” Her fits of laughter sent her headfirst into the boy’s chest, where she rested. It was clear after a few seconds that the giggles shaking her tiny body had become sobs.

  A quiet voice near me said, “Sorry I yelled at you before.”

  Taylor and I looked over at her as Christina continued to hide her face in the boy’s shirt.

  “Sorry I yelled at you bef
ore,” Kat repeated, slowly moving to her feet. She appeared unsure of herself as she approached the little girl. “I’m really sorry, okay?” Kat muttered, touching her on the shoulder.

  The spasms of sobbing stopped as soon as Kat’s fingers made contact. Nothing moved for a few seconds as we waited to see how Christina would react. We did not wait for long as she spun around and launched herself at Kat, pinning her against the wall.

  The little girl tore into Kat’s chest. Blood sprayed around the area. I felt the warm liquid wet on my cheeks. The young woman’s shrieking filled my ears and then suddenly stopped. The only sound was the smacking of Christina’s lips and the occasional plopping sound of an organ or something else sliding out of the gaping hole torn into the center of Kat’s torso. From this bloody space, Christina turned slowly toward me. Blood and pieces of something darker streaked her face.

  I wanted to grab her and get her away from this place. The image sent a wave of frustration, of weakness, of hopelessness to drown me. I looked at the little girl through the haze of tears.

  She gazed at me with a slight smile. “Kevin, you said you’d protect me…you promised.”

  The words slapped me with enough force to send me back to reality.

  I came back to the hallway to discover myself the center of attention. Kat, Taylor, and Christina all appeared to be waiting for some signal from me.

  Taylor spoke first, “Are you crying?”

  “Yeah, are you crying?” Christina echoed with a giggle, still hugging a very uncomfortable-looking Kat.

  “No, I’m not crying,” I answered with exaggerated anger. “Only babies cry!”

  “That’s right,” Taylor added.

  Kat stepped closer and asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?” Her careful scrutiny of my face as she waited for my response made clear her seriousness.

  “I’m fine,” I answered casually.

  She started to respond to my answer but instead said, “I’m really sorry, you know?” I looked at her blankly. “I didn’t mean to put anyone in danger…I wanted…I don’t know, I just wanted to get Paul back. It seems totally stupid now, but I thought if I could get him back there was a chance of things going back to normal. Pretty stupid, I know.”

  “No, it’s not stupid. You can’t imagine some of the dumb shit that goes through my head,” I laughed. “Nothing is like before. The world has gone crazy. You just have to keep trying to deal with it.”

  She looked over at the broken shell of her friend for a long time before lifting her eyes back up to me. “I’m fuckin’ tryin’ to handle all this crazy shit.” She stopped herself and glanced at Christina. “Sorry, I’m not used to thinking about what I say. Anyway, I’m doing my best to handle all this stuff. But I can’t really make any promises about how long I can keep doin’ it.”

  “I don’t need any promises,” I smiled at her. “I’m simply happy to have someone helping me keep these guys safe.”

  We both reflexively looked over at Taylor and Christina as they started another game of twenty questions.

  “She’s lucky to have him,” Kat commented.

  “They’re lucky to have each other,” I added. “And I’d sure as hell like to keep it that way. So if you’re done running off, I hope we can go back inside and talk about what to do next.”

  Kat chuckled and answered, “Yeah, I’m kinda tired of running off, so sitting down might be nice.”

  “Why don’t you take Christina inside? Taylor and I will be right there.”

  Kat opened her mouth as if to ask something, but instead glanced quickly over at the motionless shell. “Okay.”

  “Can we play a game?” Christina asked as soon as she saw Kat approaching.

  “Sure, we can,” she answered, leading her by the hand out of the hallway.

  Taylor and I turned to the gruesome task at hand. It had been some time since we had spent those weeks clearing shells out of the apartment building. Surprisingly, it was not the grisly sights of the period that came to my mind. Instead, my memory became filled with laughter, working together, and the unbeatable sensation of ice cold beer. A totally inappropriate grin stretched across my lips.

  I sensed Taylor’s eyes staring a hole into my cheek. Eventually, I turned toward him. “What?”

  “I’m wondering why you’re smiling. I mean, when I think about getting near that guy, I wanna puke more than smile.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean, but I was remembering how we cleared these things out of the building with Lawrence and Kelly.”

  Taylor’s face tightened at the mention of the name.

  “Fuck Kelly!” he responded, and looked at me, unsure how I would react.

  “Yeah, fuck Kelly!” I echoed and nodded.

  He smiled and said, “Well, let’s get this shell some place outta the way.”

  “After you,” I moved aside to let him closer to the shell.

  The odor had been there the whole time, but as I moved near the shell, the power of the odor became overwhelming.

  “Aww, man!” Taylor shook his head. “How can something reek that bad?”

  I also shook my head as I got close to the shell. “Damn, it smells like something died in here!” I laughed at Taylor. “Did you take a shower today?”

  The young man stared down at the shell, holding his nose and concentrating too intently to respond to my question. I walked next to him.

  “He smells like he shit his pants when he got killed,” Taylor said absently. “So this is…was Kat’s friend. What are we gonna do with him now?”

  “Well, we need to get him outside, I guess,” I answered as I looked down at the huge body. “But I’m not sure how we’re going to get that done.”

  “Why not roll him down the stairs?” Taylor offered. “Or out a window?”

  “Out the window would probably be best, but I’m not sure if any of them open… Wait! There is one in my boss Carole’s office!”

  I started to trot off toward the office but stopped. “You probably ought to come with me.”

  Taylor looked up from the shell and followed me without a word.

  At the sound of our footsteps, Kat stuck her head out of the kitchen door and looked at us but said nothing before retreating.

  In Carole’s office, it took me a minute to remember which of the windows opened. I found it at the lower right corner of the glass wall behind the big dark oak desk.

  My heart sank when I noticed the size of the window. “Damn, that window’s going to be way too small to get the body through.” I looked at Taylor with a forlorn expression. “Oh well, I guess we’re bouncing the body down the stairs.”

  The young black man regarded me with some confusion and perhaps irritation. He went over and slid the window fully open. Before taking hold of the movable portion of the window, Taylor looked over at me with a crooked grin. He turned back to the window and began shaking the panel of glass. After a short round of vigorous activity, the panel came off in his hand.

  “Okay, now it’s big enough,” Taylor announced smugly.

  I smiled and replied, “Yes, it is. Now for the nasty part.”

  Neither of us looked forward to moving that big shell and stood there looking down at it for a long time.

  Finally, I bent down and said, “Well, it’s not going to get moved by staring at it.” I grabbed one of the arms with the idea of turning over the body by pulling it. That proved to be a big mistake.

  As soon as I yanked on the arm, the shell rolled toward me and released a fresh burst of the stench. The odor seemed a combination of shit, sour milk, and something rotten. It took my breath away and burnt my eyes. I turned away and gasped for air.

  “How can something we saw moving around a few minutes ago reek so goddam bad?” I asked no one.

  Taylor had his hand over his mouth and simply shook his head in response.

  I looked down at the bloated, bruised bloody thing at my feet and got hit with a pang of disgust. But there was more. I still didn’t remember thi
s fat son-of-a-bitch too well, and that, for some reason, made me angry. I continued to stare at the motionless body as if there was something to be discovered there. My rage grew and brought images from the past few months.

  At my feet, I saw a scene from the airport coffee shop with the slaughtered waitress crawling across the floor leaving a trail of blood. Next came the doctor on television talking to the camera for a few moments before being overcome by a mob of shells. Finally, my wife Bonnie’s face appeared, except it somehow seemed different than the face I remembered so well. The thing glared out from the place where it slumped over, pinned between two cars. At that moment, I understood the source of all my rage. That fat bastard and those like him had been responsible for all of the good people that died and became something evil.

  “Owww!”

  My foot collided with the shell’s head. The pain of my smashed big toe brought me back to awareness. The blue running shoes I wore were not the best choice for kicking a dead body. My kick left a sort of skid mark on the side of the shell’s head and a throbbing toe.

  “Every time you hit that thing the stink gets worse!” Taylor cried. “Can’t we just move it slowly and carefully?”

  I nodded and carefully took one of the arms while Taylor took the other. As soon as we began tugging to drag the body, the torso came forward with surprising ease. In a dark episode of slapstick comedy, the two of us nearly stumbled over after the unexpected give and slowly turned to look back at what had happened. It was not possible to be prepared for the horror to be seen.

  The shell had split in half, spilling its contents. The strings of intestines trailed off and the pale spine stuck out the back. The dark blood flooded all around. The two of us took in the scene, looked at one another, and promptly spun around to puke.

  Nothing else besides emptying the contents of my stomach mattered for the next few minutes. Eventually, I finished up and turned slowly to see Taylor, still on his knees heaving. I considered walking over to offer some encouragement. However, I have never found encouragement offered in times of vomiting to be beneficial, so I simply waited for him to finish.