Monroe Massachusetts Daily Gazette
Excerpt from page 5B:
Public Awareness Editorial

Today marks the one-year anniversary since the horrible accident at the Brickner Laboratories that unleashed the plague. This airborne virus spread wildly across the United States bringing the recently dead back to life. The undead stalked and killed many citizens creating even more victims like themselves.

With official orders from the President, the national guard along with armed swat teams contained this unholy threat, ridding the country of most of the walking dead. Some managed to escape the martial efforts but were seen as little threat as public awareness of the epidemic grew and Americans took the necessary precautions to protect themselves.

Today very few of these walking threats have been spotted but undoubtedly there are a few that remain among us. Although the virus is no longer spreading, the dead still rise. Anyone who dies presently rises and attacks the living. For this reason it has become common practice to see brick fireplaces or cremation fires in the backyards of most American homes.

A new law has been formed that states any human being in the United States, be they friend, relative or family member, who passes on must be burned and cremated within the hour. This is of the utmost importance, citing the hazardous implications that may occur. Government and church officials have bestowed the right of family to give their loved ones the last rites in the case of death and properly dispose of the body.

Funerals as we know them have become non-existent. It is now common place to witness a family quietly praying in their backyard as they place a white sheet wrapped form into a fiery resting place.

Today, as of nine am, restoration of the Brickner Laboratories has begun. The first layer of foundation has been poured as the work crews ready to frame the new building.

Virginia sighed before crumbling the newspaper and tossing it into the kitchen trash bucket. Standing in front of the sink, the faucet dripping sporadically, she stared out into the backyard. Her eyes traced the brick structure that loomed at the far end of the yard, poised just before the wheat fields that seemed to stretch on forever.

Richard had it built six months after the plague-virus struck the country. Just in case, he said. You never knew when it would be necessary. Better to be prepared than be stupid. Was that movement in the field? Had there been a glimpse of something, a shape, a shadow moving sluggishly through the wheat? Perhaps it was one of them, searching mindlessly, lumbering with primal response, propelled by basic motor functions with a single desire; destroy anything alive.

Virginia wasn’t sure and honestly, she didn’t care. To her right a strainer full of stainless steel pots sat drying. She caught her reflection in them as she turned to leave the sink. Her auburn hair was streaked with gray and the bun she tied it back with was becoming unraveled. Strands sprung from every side of her head and most times she would be aghast with this but now it wasn’t worth the effort.

Bags wore heavy beneath her blue eyes and there was sadness in them, that of a life gone by, of a world gone to hell. She was tired, tired of it all.

Her thin hands took hold of the yellow apron she wore and rubbed it swiftly. Removing the apron, she threw it over the pots and pans, hiding the image of herself she could no longer bear to see.

“Ginny!” Richard called from the parlor.

His voice grated right through her and she shuddered slightly when she heard it.

“Where’s my iced tea babe?” he bellowed. “You know I need one with my shows.”

Shaking her head, she walked to the fridge and retrieved the pitcher of iced tea; the ice cubes jingling around in it with annoyance.

Handing him a tall cold glass, she sat in the rocking chair across from him. Taking a sip he grinned widely at her. “Thanks babe.”

She hated that grin. Even more, she hated when he called her babe.

Twenty-two years of cooking meals, scrubbing floors, cleaning toilets, sewing torn trousers and loose buttons, bringing glasses of ice tea and hearing the words “thanks babe” in return and what did she have to show for it?

Nothing. Not a shred of fulfillment, her entire life had simply passed her by and she was tired, oh so tired. My soul is empty, she thought. I am so drained. I might as well be one of them out there.

It wasn’t as if Richard was a bad man. He had never laid a hand on her or even raised his voice. There again, that was part of the problem. He was so nonchalant about everything, never growing angry, never getting riled up, never getting depressed. It was as if there was no emotion at all. Show something Goddamit anything! Show that you were moved by something.

If only he had wanted children. She craved to be a part of something bigger, to give a part of herself to something that would grow and bloom rather than remain in servitude to someone so occupied with themselves.

Children were out of the question. For God’s sake they might have taken some of the attention away from him. A wife’s duty was to her husband he believed firmly. The subject was closed.

For another hour she sat mute in her chair, rocking steadily as Richard remained fixated on his shows. Even they were all the same, pointless and dull.

How did I marry such a boring man?

Virginia could barely stand to look at him now as her eyes tried to find something, anything else in the room to stare at.

“Babe, could I get another iced tea?”

The rocking chair stopped in mid rock, the voice drilled through her and she crinkled her nose with disdain. She had had about enough.

Getting up, she walked over to his outstretched hand and took the glass without saying a word.

Virginia stood in front of the kitchen window again and stared at the bricked furnace in the backyard. The bricks seemed to wiggle about as she watched them. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there but the call finally jarred her out of her trance.

“Ginny, where’s my tea?”

“Oh it’s coming,” she mumbled.

She left the kitchen and walked down the hall. Into her bathroom she strolled and opened the vanity mirror before her. She avoided looking at her own reflection.

She grasped the prescription sleeping pills in her palm. She’d been using them for months now. Along with everything else she was having trouble sleeping as well.

She dropped the white powder into the tall glass, watching it dissolve. Grinding the pills actually took effort and she was surprised by this. Had she really grown so weak?

Handing Richard the glass she watched him grin that sickening, mocking grin of his and returned to her chair. She waited, studying his face, his hands, every line and wrinkle on him.

The moments passed and she watched as his eyes grew heavy and his head bobbed slightly.

Her chair rocked back and forth rhythmically, it seemed like an eternity before the pills took full affect but eventually they did.

The glass tumbled to the floor, half melted ice cubes rolling across the rug. His body slumped down in the chair, his head lobbing to one side.

She smiled. For the first time in so long she smiled. For a few minutes she sat there, without saying a word. She stopped rocking and stared at her slumbering husband. Even in his sleep he was totally aggravating.

Getting up she walked back to the kitchen, catching the backyard furnace in the corner of her eye, and stepped out onto the back porch. There was time now.

She basked in the gentle breeze that stirred, watching the wheat ripple. No rush, take everything slow. “Now it’s my turn to live,” she said.

“No one will ever know. All I have to do is drag him over to it.”

Returning to the kitchen she searched the junk drawer in the far corner, finally discovering the box of long matches she’d been looking for.

She made her way towards the fireplace, clutching the matches tightly and looked down, its sooty opening like an ashen mouth yawning at her. They had only used it once, Richard insisted on roasting hotdogs in it. Just to see what it would be like. “No more orders, no more demands. It’s my time now.”

Bending, she began tossing pieces of wood into the furnace from the pile on the ground. From the indented shelf at waist level she grabbed the small can of charcoal fluid and squirt it generously over the wood.

With one strike the match ignited and without hesitation she launched it into the furnace.

A dull poof resounded in her ears. “I’ll just say he had a heart attack. Died in his sleep. Of course officer you know the law, I had to get him into the fire as soon as possible. No one will ever know.”

Another smile drew on her face. It felt good. “My life again. Mine.” The fatigue was not as bad as before. Hope was returning. She could not wait to begin her new life. For the first time in years she was actually excited about something.

As the fire roared to its start, the scent of rot drifted in the breeze, filling her nostrils.

Virginia watched the hot ash sail past her face as she heard the thrashing of the grass behind her. She turned ever so slowly—

And he was on top of her.

The undead man lunged on top of her and the two hit the ground hard.

A scream escaped her as she struggled to get out from under the undead stranger. His cold hands reached around her throat, the flesh hanging off in leathery ribbons as he gnashed at her with yellow and black teeth.

Many times he tried to bite into her throat or face but she had managed to swerve away from his snapping jaws, his torn lips twisted in some perverse smile. Bracing one arm against his head, she searched the ground. She eyed the woodpile beside her and with some luck felt one slip into her hand.

With one hard swing she connected with his head, splinters shattering, fragments of flesh with them. Managing to roll him off she stood up as he squirmed on the ground.

Her breath heavy, pulse racing, she tried to regain her composure while searching for something to aid her. A single pitchfork stood on the left side of the furnace. Grabbing it with both hands she waited for him to get up. She couldn’t believe it; she was actually fighting to stay alive. It felt wonderful.

The undead man stumbled to his feet, a low moan rising from him. Stammering for her, he raised his arms, his fingers wiggling like an infant begging for food.

The pitchfork plunged into his stomach, dark blood soaking his already torn clothes.

With one thrust she hurled him into the fire, letting the pitchfork fall to the ground. She ran her jittery fingers through her hair and untied it, letting it caress her shoulders.

Utterly proud of herself, Virginia began her trip back to the house. “It’s time Richard, time for things to begin again, fresh and new.”

The TV still buzzed in the distance, as if nothing had changed. Leaning against the counter for a moment, she caught her breath. Pulling open the fridge she poured herself a glass of iced tea. Taking hearty gulps, she sighed. “Would you like some tea babe?” She mocked then laughed aloud as her palm quickly covered her lips. “Shame on you Ginny,” she giggled.

She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, after having taken a good hot shower, drying the beads of water from her flesh. This was going to be difficult. Richard outweighed her and was taller too. Physically and mentally she needed to prepare herself.

“Don’t wait too long,” she reminded herself. “Those pills won’t last forever.”

After dressing and pacing for a bit she decided to get it over with. Walking into the parlor, the first thing she did was turn the freaking TV off. What a TV junkie he was, day and night, my shows, my shows!

“Well Richard, thanks for all the years of boredom and misery. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Don’t be concerned with the shell of a woman that you created. Just keep watching your shows and thinking about yourself. Yes, and thank you too for opting not to have kids, so thoughtful of you. I’m so glad I could be your drone all these years.”

“You shit,” she gave him one quick slap across the face. How liberating that was.

“Well here goes, this isn’t going to be easy.” She took hold of his feet and prepared to pull when she noticed something. Virginia gazed at his chest. Why wasn’t it rising?

Richard seemed not to be breathing. She knew he was a very heavy sleeper but this was ridiculous.

She let his feet drop to the floor with a thud and drew herself up to his face. She placed her hands on his chest and felt nothing. Moving to his face she noticed that it was slightly cold.

Did it really happen? No, it wasn’t the right time. “I must have overdosed him or something,” she said. “I don’t believe it. Richard, are you really dead?” She leaned her face down onto his chest and listened for a heart beat.

Nothing.

“I really did it,” she said, her ear still to his chest. “Well no matter, I still have to get you in the fire. Then it’s done. How long ago did you die? Wait, Oh God, how long–”

She glanced up at the clock to see how much time had passed since his death and just then Richard’s eyes opened.

There was a glassy look in them, a lifelessness that permeated them as he lifted his head and bit into his wife’s throat.

Her warm blood splattered his face, gushing into his mouth. Virginia’s wails filled the house until dwindling away to silence.

The two tumbled out of the chair and to the floor, Richard scrambled over her body, devouring bits and pieces of her and pulling her innards out like a kid playing in the mud.

Moments later Richard shuffled back into his favorite chair. His dead eyes glanced at the blank TV screen in front of him. Moaning softly, he sat and waited.

After an hour the quiet of the house was broken by the stirrings of clumsy movement. Virginia climbed to her feet, moaning slightly she stared absently at Richard.

Richard lifted his arm and pointed a cold finger towards the kitchen.

Stammering into the kitchen, her large intestine slapping against her torn body, Virginia opened the fridge door and took out the pitcher of iced tea. A mournful howl escaped her as she searched for a cup.

Even in death she was unable to escape the life she hated so much.

THE END