A Zombie Hides My Face
Chapter 2:
Head Hangs Lonely
Jane hardly has the time to process before it's on her.
She's not sure what it is – it looks human, but is decidedly not. It makes the same grating sound the things in the hospital had made, and it hobbles and limps with an inhuman speed. But that's not what disturbs her.
What makes the creature terrifying is the fact that it only has half a face. One eye, jaundiced and watery, rolls frantically in its socket but always stops every few seconds to focus on her. What's left of its jaw hangs, distended, from a few remaining tendons, which occasionally shorten then lengthen as it gnashes its blackened teeth. Its arms are fleshless meat, the bones of fingers reaching for her. It reeks of death.
Jane doesn't make a sound. She doesn't scream, doesn't cry. She's too used to fighting for her life, and her body has shut off all reason and gone into survival mode. But right at this second, she is not quite equipped to fight. So she runs instead.
Except she's not really equipped for running, either, and she's winded within moments. Her hospital gown flaps at her ankles, and she wishes she had some pants.
The thing is gaining on her, she can hear its breath whistling wet and useless in its throat, and she needs a weapon. She searches as she runs, hoping to find something.
And she does.
A rake, propped up against someone's house. She springs for it, grabbing the handle and barely having time to turn and swing before the creature's horrid breath fills her nose.
She aims for the head, because it looks vulnerable. She's right. The rake squashes the thing's head with one blow, and it squelches and collapses under the weapon like a rotten fruit.
Jane drops the rake and falls to her knees. She turns away from the grey matter splattered on the ground and vomits, but still only manages to bring up a string of bile that burns her throat. She knows that means she needs to eat something, to at least put something in her body, but at this moment she's sure she'll never be able to eat again.
The first place she checks is Maura's house.
She isn't sure what she thinks she'll find there, but she prays to whatever God there may or may not be that the doctor is there, alive, sheltered from the…. What is this, anyway?
The zombie apocalypse?
The term seems almost too comical, too light hearted to describe the situation.
Jane does a lot of crying when she finds Maura's house to be not only empty, but completely destroyed. She knows it must mean that Maura didn't make it, that she didn't survive – but she tries to have a little hope anyway.
It's the first time she's allowed herself to feel anything since waking up. She's been on survival mode, trying to figure out what's happening, trying to outrun zombie-like creatures. The sight of Maura's ransacked house has finally sent her over the edge, and she cries out with loud, ugly sobs, rocking on her knees in the middle of what used to be the living room.
There's a sudden scuttling from the kitchen, and Jane stiffens, quiets. She listens.
It goes again.
She rises to her feet, and grabs the poker from beside the fireplace. Then, creeping real slow, she heads for the kitchen.
What she finds brings on a new wave of tears. For there, lazily dragging himself along the linoleum floor, is Bass the turtle.
Tortoise, Maura's voice corrects in her head, and she runs the back of her hand under her nose.
"Well I'll be damned," she grunts, kneeling and reaching out a hand. The tortoise immediately draws into his shell, but Jane can't blame him. He's been living in a fucked up world.
She wonders what he's been living off of, and notices the strawberries piled under the kitchen table.
She doubts Bass put them there.
Someone's been taking care of him.
Hope springs in her chest. There might not be anyone in this house, but someone has been making sure Bass has something to eat and she's going to find out who. She turns and runs to the door with new exuberance.
"Freeze!" a voice yells the second she exits the house, and she is so startled by the sound of another human being that she stumbles back, tripping and falling on her ass. Her hands shoot into the air.
"Please!" she shouts, eyes shut, "Please help me!"
But the person doesn't say anything to that, and, beginning to worry that she imagined it, she opens her eyes.
And stares.
"Korsak," she gasps.