He pushed his glasses up on his nose and looked back to see that there was a small box trailer attached to the back of the ATV. It, too, had sturdy wheels and a wide tread. He could easily load it up with supplies and tie them down.
"Okay, this looks good. Real good. It's not a car, but it can maybe get us to one."
The next hour was a rush of activity as he actually found the owner's manual in the desk in Mrs. Waskom's office and gave it quick read through. He gassed up the vehicle at the gas pump next to the barn then drove it over to the back porch of the house with Pepe perched on his lap. When he and had first been shown around the house, Mrs. Waskom had demonstrated how to use the inflatable slide that would whisk them down to safety in case of fire. He made sure to get the ATV set up so if he did make a quick exit from the house, he would slide right down to the ATV. Then he loaded up the box trailer with canned goods, water jugs, and food for Pepe. Tying up a pillow and comforter as a bedroll, he also added that to the load.
He was just finishing knotting the last of the rope used to secure the load when Pepe went into a barking fit. His heart leaped in his chest and he slowly edged his way to where he could see past the house. To his amazement, he saw Brandy walking up the long winding road toward the B & B. Her hair was in her face and she was clutching her cell phone tight in one hand.
"Brandy!" He couldn't believe he was seeing her again.
Pepe continued to bark at her angrily. He couldn't blame the little dog. Brandy had been a total bitch that morning.
"Brandy, baby! Oh, my gawd! Where is the car?" He started toward her, dragging Pepe behind him. The little dog at first resisted then changed his mind and began to dart in front of Eric’s legs, almost tripping him.
"Brandy!" Eric waved at her, grinning, his heart bursting with happiness.
Slowly, she raised her head and from the distance he could see that one cheek was gone and there was a deep gash in her forehead. Her exposed perfect white teeth snapped as her murky eyes fastened hungrily on him.
Then with an ungodly shriek, she charged toward him.
Chapter Eight
Fighting Back the Dead
Despite her torn face, blank eyes, and terrifying shriek, Eric could not believe that Brandy had joined the ranks of the undead. He stood and stared at her approaching form in a blank sort of shock. It was difficult for his brain to equate her torn visage with the one he loved so much. Her beautiful legs were splattered in blood and one of them was turned at a weird angle making her movement toward him jerky and inhuman.
Yet, it was Brandy. Her gorgeous streaked hair, her heaving breasts, her immaculately manicured hands reaching for him, but her dead eyes and ruined cheek destroyed the illusion that she was his once more.
Pepe was in a barking fit at his feet and as his survival instinct kicked in and his senses returned to normal, the little dog's warning finally registered and he raised the rifle.
It was obviously hard for the undead Brandy to make it up the incline toward them and she was doing her best to reach them. Her leg kept twisting oddly under her, turning her body to one side with each step and she would have to swing her other leg around to redirect herself toward Eric and the little dog.
Pepe strained at the end of his leash, putting himself directly between Eric and the zombie. His shrill barks of anger grew fiercer as she approached.
"Pull the trigger," Eric whispered, but his finger seemed to have trouble responding. He became aware of the tears rushing down his cheeks and he sniffled loudly. "Pull the trigger."
Another voice, maybe the voice of reason, whispered in his thoughts to flip off the safety and his thumb did so. The same voice urged him to raise the gun higher and he did. But still, his finger on the trigger would not obey.
"Brandy," he wailed in a soft voice.
She kicked Pepe aside as she had often did in life and the little dog yelped. Her lovely hands reached out to grip his shoulders and he felt them slide along the material of his shirt. That terrible wound revealed her lolling tongue and champing teeth and he gasped as she tried to pull him close. The gun was firmly between their bodies, holding them apart.
With a whimper of despair, Eric shoved with the gun and she staggered back a few feet on her broken leg. Howling with frustration, Brandy launched her wounded body back at him, but this time he raised the gun a little higher and shoved the barrel into her open mouth. She didn't seem to notice as she pushed hard against it, her perfectly shaped white teeth grinding against the metal.
Pepe hysterically barked at their feet and tried to pull on Brandy's shoe to get her away from Eric.
"Brandy," Eric said softly as his heart broke even more. "I'm really sorry."
At last, his finger obeyed his inner voice and the bark of the rifle going off filled the air and seemed to echo around him. He was able to handle the recoil a bit better this time and stood his ground as the gun fired again, but he had to look away. He could not stand to see Brandy's torn face or witness her final death.
Pepe lapsed into silence and Brandy’s growls ceased as the echo of the gunshot faded away. Eric felt the shotgun grow heavy with her weight and he lowered the barrel and felt her slip off of it. Her body hit the ground next to him with a heavy thud.
"Brandy," he sobbed softly. He turned his gaze down to her broken body and saw that her face was turned away from him and her hair had fallen to cover it almost like a death shroud.
Pepe sat next to the body and whined sadly in his throat. For some reason that sound unleashed Eric's agony and he fell to his knees sobbing. Pepe laid a little paw on Brandy's arm and began to piteously howl. Together, the man and his dog mourned a woman that had been a part of their life for the last two years and despite everything she had done to them, they both had loved in their own way.
Time passed as they sat together and mourned. Eric took off his glasses and wiped his eyes as he cried. At some point, Brandy had turned back and returned to the town. Obviously, something had happened on the road that resulted in her coming back.
"She was coming back," Eric said to Pepe. "I bet she was sorry and was coming back to us."
Pepe looked over his shoulder at Eric and whined a little.
He would have forgiven her. He knew it. He would have forgiven her and together they would have faced the undead horde. It was easy to imagine their reunion, their stand against the zombies, their fight to freedom and safety with little Pepe at their side.
It was too easy to imagine and too painful to realize it did not happen and would not.
Instead, Brandy had died somewhere nearby and he had given her final, terrible death.
Somewhere nearby…
He scrambled to his feet and shoved his glasses back on. Pepe looked up at him in alarm.
"There are more out there," he said to the little dog.
Pepe hopped up to all fours and looked around.
Eric quickly broke open the shotgun and began to reload it with the shells from his pocket. He was suddenly and terrifyingly aware of how exposed he was.
Snapping the action back into place, he began to walk carefully toward the front of the house. He knew the front door was shut and therefore nothing could lurk inside, but the shadows were growing longer and something could easily be somewhere in the bushes or behind the trees.
In actuality, it was standing in the parking lot looking one way then the other. Maybe it had heard him and Pepe and wasn't sure where the sound was coming from. Voices did seem to echo around the house quite a bit or be carried off by the wind coming up the back of the hill from the pasture.
The zombie was very tall, with almost ebony skin, a shaved head and wearing army fatigues. The dead man's face and chest were smeared in blood and chunks of flesh and Eric felt his stomach lurch. It was probably Brandy's blood. Before he could even formulate a plan, Pepe charged forward on his leash and began to bark at the dead thing.
The pale eyes of the creature scanned the area and found Eric. With an unholy scream, it began to rush toward him.
"Dammit, Pepe," Eric said to the dog and began to run toward the porch.
The dog ran next to him, still barking, but Eric realized halfway to the porch he was not going to make it to safety. Swinging the gun around, he aimed at the creature’s head and fired. The zombie was so close, the buckshot flayed its face opened and destroyed its eyes. It screeched in frustration as it was instantly blinded and continued forward. Eric realized that the buckshot was only going to be effective at close range.
"Shit," he whispered.
The zombie was still floundering in his direction and the porch was still not close enough to reach without risking the zombie's clutches. Looking around desperately, he spotted a shovel set aside with other gardening tools. They had the appearance of being abruptly abandoned. Probably this morning when it had all gone to hell.
"Pepe, shut up!" He ordered the dog and was rewarded with a stunned look and silence.
Not wanting to waste the ammunition and feeling a deep terrible anger at the murderous thing for what it had done to Brandy, Eric picked up the shovel. Letting go of Pepe's leash, he motioned to the dog to sit and began to circumvent the blind zombie, trying to get behind it. The dead man floundered through the garden, banging into trees and foliage, but it continued toward the spot that it had last seen Eric. Pepe sat uneasily in his spot, watching his master with bright eyes with his gaze flicking toward the zombie warily. Eric pointed at Pepe to stay once more and took his time to move quietly around some benches. The zombie banged into the side of the benches and staggered a few feet to one side. Correcting itself, it began to stumble again toward where Pepe waited.