The Real Night of the Living Dead Read online

  “We should not waste much time here, men,” said the professor. “The last thing we want is to be surrounded by them in this small house.”

  Hank walked back, saying, “The professor’s right. Let’s get what we need and move on.”

  As Hank emptied the cabinet of all the guns, I was pulling the shard out of Eugene’s eye. Then I grabbed the first aid kit and helped him, placing gauze over his eye and wrapping a bandage from under his ear over the top of his head.

  We were all standing with Hank now, as he placed the guns on a table beside the cabinet. There were five revolvers and four rifles. As he began unloading the boxes of ammo onto the table, I noticed how quiet it was. I realized, for the first time all night, the rain had stopped.

  “Are you coming with us?” Hank said to Eugene.

  “Where were you boys headed?”

  “Across Southampton Road. To the children’s camp,” said Hank.

  “Why don’t we do this, I’ll head to N-7 and take the patient here with me. You two can continue on with your original plan.”

  Hank said, “I suggest that we should be the only ones carrying any weapons.”

  “Why?” said Eugene.

  “’Cause this guy here,” motioning his head toward me, “is a Holmesburg convict. And this loon is a patient.”

  I gazed hard at Hank. I knew that mug wanted to kill me, and the first chance he had he would try. I made a mental note to be prepared for anything he may do.

  “That’s ridiculous,” said Eugene. “He’s been running around all night, protecting anyone he came across that needed the help. Am I right?” Hank hesitated, then nodded. “Give him what’s needed. I can understand not giving anything to the patient, but this young man here…we need him.”

  The overweight guard, full of hatred, slid two revolvers in my direction. He said, as we exchanged glares, “Watch where you aim them. Get me?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “They’re loaded,” said Hank. “I’ll hang onto the ammo. I have a satchel that I keep them in.”

  I checked to be sure. He was right. They were both loaded.

  Hank chuckled as he said, “What’s wrong? You don’t trust me?”

  “Damn straight on that, bub,” I said. I tucked the revolvers in my waistband.

  The professor stood, his flat skinny wrinkled rear hanging out the back of the gown, watching the two security guards load their guns and satchels with ammo, preparing for the dangerous journey.

  I walked to the phone, deciding to give it a try. My eyes lit up as I said, “The phones are back.” I got the operator to connect me to the police department.

  A woman’s voice on the other end said, “How can I help you?”

  I was talking fast, tripping over my own words. I was so excited to hear someone who wasn’t a part of this mess, someone who would be able to help us. I calmed down and started over, saying, “Listen, we have a major disaster here in Byberry. At the hospital.”

  “We know,” said the voice. “We received a call a minute or two ago. We’ve sent a car there. Give him about twenty minutes.”

  “No, no, you don’t understand. One car’s not going to do it. This place is like Armageddon right now. You better send anyone available.”

  “Who is this?”

  “I’m an attendant working at the hospital. People have been murdered. And more are in danger of being murdered.” I raised my voice. “Now please, send some goddamn help, sister. This place is being overrun with killer psychos.”

  She got the message and said she would send more help. I hung up and called the extension at S-3, the main building at the children’s camp where Clara was scheduled to work this evening. A woman answered. “Hello?”

  “Clara?” I said.

  “No,” she said. “Who is this?”

  “Where’s Clara?” I was anxious to hear her voice. To hear it, just to know that she was okay. That she was still alive and not one of them. “Put Clara on the phone.”

  “She’s busy.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine. Who is this?”

  “It’s Veimer. One of the attendants. Is everyone safe there?”

  “Well, some of the patients escaped from the other buildings. They attacked us. So we gathered who we could and locked ourselves in our ward.”

  “What do you mean they attacked you?”

  “A few of us were bitten…”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  My heart dropped. “Who was bitten?” I said.

  “Me…a few of the children…”

  “What about Clara? Was Clara bitten?”

  “What? No…they tried to, but I think she’s fine. She’s bandaging the children’s bite wounds.”

  I cut her off, saying, “Listen, put her on the phone.”

  “No, I just explained to you, she’s busy at the moment.”

  “This is no game, lady. You’re in danger…”

  “Yes, we realize that. That’s why we are locked in the ward. The escaped patients are outside. We are safe inside.”

  “Goddamn it, I’m talking about you and anyone else who was bitten. You’re sick. Infected. You need to take everyone who was bitten, you included, and lock yourselves in a separate room or something.”

  “This is ludicrous,” said the nurse. “I don’t know who you are, but this conversation is over. We’re extremely busy here…”

  “Listen…”

  “No, you listen. Yes, we were bitten, but we are nurses and are trained to deal with treating wounds such as these. These are minor wounds, you understand…”

  “Sister, I’ve seen a man walking around with his insides hanging out. These ain’t no minor wounds we’re talking about here.”

  Then she hung up the phone.

  I turned to the three men and said, “They reached the other side.”

  “Well, hell,” said Hank, “we may as well forget about heading over there.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m going. I’ll go by myself if I have to.”

  We began to hear faint moans in the distance.

  “The plan stays the same,” said Eugene, looking at us with one good eye. “Hank, you go with him, you say your name is Veimer?” I nodded. “Yeah, go with Veimer to the camps. We got kids in the hundreds there that need our help. If we’re lucky, the police will arrive and be able to assist us.”

  The guards were ready. They each had a satchel, that was loaded with ammo, over their shoulder, revolvers in their holsters, and each of them was holding a rifle.

  Eugene looked like a soldier just returning from battle with that bandage around his eye and the blood beginning to seep through.

  I looked worse. My shirt was torn. I had scratches here and there, a black eye, two busted lips, and blood, from who knows how many people, splattered over my clothes.

  The professor didn’t look too bad. He was wet from the rain, as were me and Hank. If anything, the poor guy just needed some clothes.

  Hank’s face was bruised, and his nose was broken from the beating I gave him a while ago. He looked tired too, like he needed to sleep for twelve hours.

  Then the thumping started on the back wall of the guard house.

  Eugene said, “Okay, listen up, Hank, you take the lantern on the desk, in case the power goes out again.” Hank nodded. “There’s another in the back office. I’ll grab that one.” His gaze went to each of us. “Are we ready, boys? It’s about time to go.”

  Eugene started for the back office.

  I turned back to the broken window, making sure the creatures weren’t making their way inside.

  Then there was an echoing bang, and my eardrums were ringing.

  My head spun around to see the back of Eugene’s head missing, and Hank’s revolver aimed at my face.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  I was frozen.

  I pictured Clara, crying, surrounded by these monsters, and them tearing her to pieces; some of them, biting into her flesh, ripping off mo
uthfuls, as she gets drenched in her own blood.

  I saw all my struggles to reach her coming to a halt.

  I closed my eyes.

  I heard the thumping and moaning grow louder.

  There was a crash.

  I opened my eyes to see the professor fighting with Hank for the revolver.

  The professor was skinny and weak. Hank shoved him to the side and he fell to the floor, but that was all I needed. By the time Hank’s attention was back on me, I was already tackling him.

  He pulled the trigger as we fell. A bullet hit somewhere behind me.

  “Youse think I’m going on some suicide mission,” shouted Hank in my face, as we scuffled on the floor. “Not me. I’ll kill youse all before I go down.”

  The infected were crawling in through the broken window. I could hear them. Their moans right behind me made the hairs on my neck stand.

  I banged Hank’s hand against the cabinet and didn’t stop until he dropped the revolver.

  Out the corner of my eye, I could see the professor grabbing a revolver from Eugene’s dead body. He started firing at the creatures, but I could tell he never held a gun in his life. He held it like he was afraid it was going to blow up in his hand.

  I landed a couple of blows to Hank’s face, giving birth to a few more bruises, but he was determined to reach his gun. He couldn’t reach the one in his holster, as I was lying on top of him, so he kept stretching his arm up, trying to wrap his fingers around the fallen revolver.

  Then someone grabbed my shirt from behind me, and I heard the moans and smelled the rotting flesh and the hot dead breath flowing down my neck and back.

  My eyes glanced up and saw the professor pointing the gun at me. I watched as he pulled the trigger. I flinched at the sound of the bullet firing and flinched again when it grazed my ear and hit the walking corpse behind me in the face.

  “We must flee, Mr. Veimer,” said the professor, fear was showing in his face as he continued to aim, holding the gun as steady as he could, and fire.

  For that split second, I released my grip on Hank. When I gazed back down at him, he was wrapping his fingers around the stray revolver.

  My hand reached for the gun in my waistband. I pulled it up, as Hank was bringing his revolver in my direction, and fired two shots that landed in his round belly. He grunted as he dropped to his side.

  I stood and grabbed the revolver out of his hand, then picked up his satchel of ammo from the floor and threw it over my shoulder. I turned to the professor and said, “Me and you, Professor. Let’s go.”

  “Do you want the firearm back?” he said.

  “You kidding me? You saved my life. It’s yours, pal.”

  I turned back to see two creatures dead on the floor, five more moving toward us, and another climbing through the broken window.

  I began firing at the closest ones. They moaned as they reached out for us. All of them were covered with bites and blood, and most of them were women. It was obvious now; these were victims of the original patients from N-3 who were injected with the failed polio vaccine. They were from the buildings in the women’s group, and I was afraid to think of how many were waiting for us outside this house. But we would find out, soon enough.

  The three closest to us were now dead on the floor. We began walking toward the door, our escape.

  Hank shouted, “No, you can’t leave me. Help me. I need help.”

  We ignored him and continued firing at the two approaching us. I brought down one with a single shot, but the professor was a horrible shot. He fired two bullets into the infected woman’s neck and shoulder.

  She reached out toward him, moaning. Her yellow eyes glued to his face.

  The professor screamed.

  I fired a shot into her ear at point blank range. My stomach turned as I saw a large part of her scalp explode into about five pieces. A piece of flesh and black hair landed on the professor’s chest as her body dropped.

  Another made his way through the window and was trying to get around the desk.

  I shot him dead.

  Two more were fighting to get through the broken window.

  I wrapped my hand around the door knob when I heard Hank again, “Youse can’t do this.” I looked back and saw him struggling to get to his feet, his belly, forcing its way through his tight shirt, was drenched in blood. “Veimer, please.”

  I swallowed the knot in my throat and said, “Ask your boss, Eugene,” motioning my head toward the old man’s corpse with half a head, “see if he’ll give you a hand.”

  Hank screamed as I opened the door and was greeted by another four creatures, waiting to get through the window.

  I shot one of them dead, aimed at another and pulled the trigger. Nothing. I was out of bullets.

  As the creature moved in toward me, and I reached in the satchel for more bullets, the professor’s revolver appeared from behind and fired.

  The bullet hit the infected woman in her cheek. She stumbled back but continued moving forward. She was dragging her left leg. I glanced down at it as I loaded the revolver and stared for a moment at the gruesome sight; her left leg was almost completely gone, most of the flesh had been eaten away. There were a few spots of meat scattered throughout, but most of the leg was a bloody moving bone.

  The professor fired another shot.

  A direct hit.

  The infected woman with the bony leg dropped dead, but now we had the attention of the others by the window; they were closing in.

  “Come on,” I said to the professor. I dropped the closest one with a shot to the head, then we ran toward the small road, hearing Hank’s screams carry into the night.

  As we reached the small road that intersected with Roosevelt Boulevard, Hank’s screams were drowned out. I thought for a moment that it was the rain again, but I looked down the road, where the administration building rested at the end and saw from there down to the middle was covered with screaming corpses.

  My hands started trembling from the sight of them.

  The moment they saw us, the screams grew louder. A few of them began running in our direction.

  They were still a good sixty yards away, but we didn’t waste any time. We ran, our feet splashing through the puddles that had formed in the road from the rainstorm.

  We passed the second guard house, directly across the road from the guard house where we were just at, and decided to take the boulevard down to Southampton Road. We were doing our best to avoid as much traveling on the muddy fields as possible. But I knew soon we would reach the creek, and I prayed it wouldn’t be flooded. If it was, then we were pretty much done for.

  There was actually a tunnel that ran from the women’s group, across Southampton Road, to the children’s camp. Taking that route would’ve been much easier and safer, but there was no way we would’ve been able to reach it. Not only would we have to battle our way through a few hundred of these creatures just to reach the tunnel, but, being that it ran through the creek, it was probably flooded.

  As we hauled down the boulevard, I was hoping to lay sight on a passing police car, or any car, just someone who could give us a lift near the camp, and then spread the word of this disaster. But there was nothing. The boulevard was deserted. Not only had the rain kept everyone in their homes, but Byberry was mostly farmland and, except for the hospital, there was no reason for anyone in Philadelphia to be up in this area.

  I looked back, still running, to see the professor a few feet behind. The screams of the undead were still heard, but we had gained on our distance between them. Most of the creatures were still far up the small road; a few were running across the field, but the mud was slowing them down.

  I failed to glance back at the guard house. That’s when the pop echoed, and the professor went down.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  I was helping the professor to his feet as more shots were fired. There was blood near his left shoulder from the bullet that knocked him to the street.

  “You oka
y?” I said.

  “Uggh..I can’t move my arm.”

  I turned back to see a figure, near the second guard house, stumbling toward us and firing a gun whenever he had his chance.

  The figure shouted, “Where you headed, convict?” He gurgled, like he was clearing his throat of blood. “You ain’t getting anywhere.”

  It was Hank. Damn it. I knew I should’ve let him have it right in his big fat mouth. But I wanted him to suffer, so I left him for the infected. Let them finish him off. Enjoy all that he had to offer. But somehow, he managed to break away.

  And here he was, shooting at us.

  I fired a couple shots back at the injured security guard. I’m sure I missed, but I wanted to distract him so we could get away before he killed one of us.

  We continued running. The professor was doing okay. He was able to run fine, he just lost the use of his left arm ― the bullet must have ripped through his collar bone.

  We reached Southampton Road and eased to our right, in the direction of the children’s camp.

  I could still hear Hank shouting. Beautiful. Not only did we have to worry about being eaten alive, but now we had some rotten crumb bum trying to blow our heads off.

  Not too far from the opposite side of Southampton Road was a work shed, where the Landscape Department kept some of their tools and equipment. I nudged the professor and told him to head there.

  As we crossed the road, I could see scattered creatures, further up, crossing to the two buildings ― used as dorms for nurses and female attendants ― that were before the children’s camp, but none of them noticed us.

  I wondered how many were at S-3. From the phone call with the nurse, I knew there was at least a few. Maybe that was all there were? But then, she and others were bitten, and they were barricaded with my sweet Clara. That concerned me more than what was waiting outside. What would happen when I finally reached S-3 and made it inside? Would Clara be happy to see me, or would she be infected and wanting to kill me?

  God, please let her be okay.