“Relax Martin, we will. It can’t be far, it was limping when I last saw it.”

The younger, stronger Rick took the lead as older, frailer Martin followed a bit behind. Rick wished the old man had stayed back at the ranger station. He got in the way more than he was of help but he insisted on tagging along. He wanted to see the thing die, if you could call it dying. It was dead days ago.

“It’s the last one,” Martin said. “The outbreak here can be contained as long as it doesn’t bite into anyone else. Screw the rest o f the world. You and Laura are the only rangers we got left. It can’t..it just can’t-”

“Goddammit Martin. I think by now I know. I had to chop all of our friends to pieces. Watched them eat each other’s guts out. Lost more co-workers than I care to remember. You think I don’t still see their faces? You think I don’t see all the blood and flesh sacks that we buried in pits out in the forest? You think I like the taste of vomit and bile?”

The old ranger was silent.

Rick suddenly remembered that being a ranger was all Martin ever had. Glacier National Park was where he called home. He loved the forest, the vast sea of trees, the smell of pine and rain upon leaves, the sunlight shimmering across lakes and streams. Now all they smelled was festering rot and all they saw was unrelenting death. “I’m sorry Martin.”

They scurried down a trail that slithered steeply through moss-covered boulders and around ancient tree trunks cracked with age and decay. The trail was strewn with rocks, roots and bones…bones that were stripped of flesh. Bleached by ravaging hunger that had no end. It should have bothered them, it should have stood out as abnormal-a trail littered with bones, but it didn’t. Not anymore.

The brittle bones snapped like twigs under their hurried steps. How many hikers and campers had met their death here in the last few months before Rick and his team knew there was an outbreak, knew what contagion was, knew how to contain it? He tried to push it out of his mind.

Problem was they didn’t know how it all started. They had only discovered it when Gavin, gone missing from the job for several days, returned from the wilderness one morning, stumbled into the station and bit a hunk out of Deb’s arm just as she was having her morning coffee. She tried to reach the radio and fight Gavin off at the same time but it was too late. If it weren’t for the screams, Rick would have never known.

He too would have been lunchmeat if he hadn’t defended himself against his ravenous friend of ten years and put the back of a hammer right through his forehead.

Now they were searching for one last co-worker to destroy as if it was an everyday part of the job instead of watching for forest fires, or protecting wildlife or studying plant and tree life, guiding campers and hikers, patrolling for bears and wolves.

They heard a moan and stopped before a clearing, something moved in the shadowy brush.

It lumbered out of the overgrowth and walked into a tree. The ranger uniform it wore was tattered and bloodstained. For a moment it clawed at the trunk for getting in its way and then turned around. Its callous eyes caught Rick and Martin standing across the clearing. It opened its mouth and groaned, a mix of rage and hunger. Its eyes suddenly gleamed with fiery intent.

The undead stumbled toward them with a limp but caught its damaged leg on a tree root. A loud snapping sound echoed through the forest as the thing went down, its foot now broken.

Still it pushed onward, oblivious to pain or wound and crawled toward the men. Martin held back as Rick brandished an axe and made his way slowly to the zombie.

He stared at the ranger uniform, read the name “Stewart” on it and lifted the axe.

The creature thrashed and flailed below him, reaching for Rick, gnashing its teeth. Rick stared at the wound in its leg he had given it days ago when he used a jackknife to escape the surprise attack. The thing hid out in an outhouse that Rick needed to use like his life depended on it.

Rick looked back at its rotting face again. “Sorry Stew,” he said as he lifted the axe high above him with both hands.

He drove it down swift and sure, chopping the head off clean with one whack. The head rolled away from the body and settled against a dead tree. Something caught Rick’s attention as the sunlight splashed across the head.

He moved his way closer and noticed the fresh blood that glistened all around the lips and coated its feral teeth. It had bitten something.

Frantically, Rick searched about the clearing and finally located a trail of blood leading off into the forest. Red paw prints flourished all around it.

“My God…”

“What?” Martin called. “What is it? Rick?”

“It fed on something. Some kind of animal. There are bloody prints going every which way.”

“So what? It doesn’t matter now. You finished it.”

“Nothing’s fucking finished! Don’t you get it? That animal is infected now. And it will infect others. God knows how many others. We don’t know where it is. What if it attacks a human, what if it escapes the forest? We’re in trouble here.”

“Jesus,” Martin mumbled.

“We’re in a lot of trouble. We gotta get out of here, we gotta get back to headquarters now.”

Without hesitation the pair headed out of the clearing and onto the trail. A sense of alarm set over them as a pain-filled howl pealed through the forest.

#

The timbered door to headquarters flew open with a crash, bouncing off the wall.

A young woman with curly blonde hair swiveled around in her chair and beamed. “Welcome back ranger Rick!”

“Not now, Laura.” Rick hated when she called him that. He realized she was only trying to lighten a horrific situation and that she flirting with him but her perky tone grated on him like nails on a chalkboard at the moment.

The truth was Laura wasn’t just flirting. She really liked Rick and if things were different she’d be dating him right now.

Rick agreed there’d be something if things were different but she was new on the job and the job wasn’t exactly what it was supposed to be at this time. He couldn’t even think of things like dating right now. All he could think of was surviving this.

Man though, if it wasn’t for this nightmare he’d have done the dirty with her a long time ago.

“Laura…something awful…Jesus…I don’t even…” Martin stammered all over himself as he pulled a bottle of whiskey out of the cooler under his desk.

The light in Laura’s eyes suddenly went out. “What’s happened? Did another camper get killed?”

“Worse,” Rick said as he shut the door and slammed a thick board across it. “Some animal is infected. We need to be ready for anything. If only we still had a way to leave that station and get out of the forest, Goddammit!” he glared at Martin who stared back blankly.

Martin, out of some twisted sense of pride and duty, slashed the tires to all the department’s vehicles. He said they needed to protect the outside world from the outbreak, needed to handle the problem themselves in the park and not bring the government into it. The government couldn’t be trusted, he said. The bureaucrats would only make things worse, he said. He wouldn’t take the chance of an infected person driving back to civilization. So here the last of the rangers were, holed up in backcountry camping territory. They should have hiked out, they could have done it-hiked back to the main road. But they all agreed they needed to stay and make sure the wilderness was clean first.

Luckily it was getting colder and not many people were interested in camping this time of year. So there were less guests to contend with but that didn’t stop the animals.

There was plenty of wildlife to go around and now there was a new danger, a greater threat that only a nightmare could describe. That nightmare was just about to beat a path right to their door.

Rick heard Martin murmuring nonsense to himself over and over as he checked the handheld radios. During an attack by the undead the main radio had been damaged and no one knew how to repair it, so all they had left were the short-range hand held, what little good they did.

Dusk was at hand, Rick looked out the window as rays of crimson set the horizon on fire. It was beautiful in a final sort of way. Shadows stretched through the trees and the sunlight slowly withered.

“We’re going to be alright, aren’t we?” Laura approached Rick. He could see that her hands were shaking.

He knew his own panic was contagious. He tried not to telegraph it. Got to keep it together. They need me.

“We need to protect ourselves.” Rick put a steady arm around her shoulder and led her to the dinner table. There was small hatchet laying on it. He picked it up and handed it to her. “Stay armed. We don’t really know what’s out there.”

“But we’re going to be alright?”

“I don’t know. Let’s just work together.”

He walked away from Laura and went to Martin. He pulled the hunting knife from his belt and held it out to the old man who refused to look up.

“Take it,” Rick ordered. “Martin, take it.”

“All I’ve ever wanted to do was protect the great outdoors. Make it a beautiful place to see and experience. Now the great outdoors is going to eat me alive.”

“Martin stop it and take the knife.”

The old man took the knife placed it on the desk in front of him then took another swig from his bottle.

Useless. Rick walked back to the dinner table and sat down beside Laura. Wish he took retirement when I came on. Why the hell didn’t he? I wouldn’t be in this mess I’d be back in Columbia Falls getting to know Laura. Fighting zombies in the forest. What is this bullshit?

As the hours droned on, Rick made them bowls of cereal for dinner as not to fire up the stove or let any cooking smells escape out the chimney. That would surely make the station an easy target. Not that they weren’t in the crosshairs already.

Laura lifted a spoonful of cereal to her mouth as milk drooled to the table and paused. “What’s that noise?”

They all turned to the station door as the sound of muffled galloping caught Rick’s attention.

A scream escaped Laura, shattering the silence. Her spoon toppled from her hand and splashed into her bowl, a cascade of milk raging across the table.

Rick jumped up and smashed his knees on the table, cereal bowls spun out of control as a set of antlers came through the door, cracking the wood and nearly severing the board in half.

“What the hell is that?” Laura cried again as Rick turned the floodlights on outside.

The three of them crowded the window. Outside a large deer was now trapped in the door, its stomach was torn open and entrails were hanging out. Its ribs were clearly visible through devoured flesh. Its lifeless eyes turned towards them as they gawked at it in horrific awe.

There was rustling among the brush and out stepped a pack of wolves, fur matted with blood, throats torn out, eyes vacant yet feral, ignited with a new kind of hunger, a new kind of hunt. They sniffed the air and drew in the scent of live flesh inside the station.

The largest of the wolves stepped to the front, its innards dragging on the ground behind it, and howled, the most terrible, baneful howl to ever fill the forest. The other wolves snarled around it, fixing their gaze upon the rangers.

Cold terror washed through Rick, the hair on the back of his neck stood up and adrenalin rushed through his body as he watched the undead wolf pack launch itself at the station.

“Quick,” Rick commanded. “The table, help me with the table!”

They rushed to grab the dinner table and in the chaos, Martin was knocked hard to the floor. His bottle of whisky flew from his grip and smashed. Rick knew Martin would be useless, most likely a liability and now he was getting in the way–again.

In a clatter of cereal bowls, Rick and Laura threw the table up against the compromised door and the window beside it.

“Watch the antlers,” Rick said. “One scratch and you’ll end up just like those things.”

They used all of their weight to hold the table and keep the danger restrained. The wolves, ignoring the stuck deer, clawed and bit at the station in a frenzy…growls filled the night air.

“The infection must have already gone through all the animals in the area, at least the ones that didn’t escape,” Rick said. “The rest have turned. We must be the only living flesh left in the forest.”

“I thought this nightmare was over,” Laura said, grimacing and fighting back tears. “Stewart was supposed to be the last. How are we gonna get out of this?”

“I’ll get you out Laura,” Rick answered. “We just have to work together. We can stay safe in here.”

“You son of a bitch!” Martin yelled from the floor. “You pushed me on purpose.”

“Good God Martin, not now,” Rick yelled.

“You’ve always thought you were better than me.” Martin cut his fingers on the glass of the whisky bottle, hoping in vain to save some of the alcohol, before pulling himself to his feet.

“The hell we’ll be safe in here. The whole forest is after us now Rick…because you were sloppy.”

“One more word Martin…”

“And what? What are you going to do…cut my head off like you did all your other friends?”

“Old fucking bastard!” Rick threw a punch but Laura pulled the old man out of the way.

“Stop it!” Laura said. “Both of you. Men and your egos. We have bigger problems now.”

The three noticed that the wolves suddenly stopped biting and clawing at the door and an eerie silence permeated the station.

“Wait…” Rick hushed everyone. “What is that?”

A roar echoed in the distance.

“That’d be a Grizzly,” Martin said.

Silence reigned over the room until Rick sprung into action once more. He gestured to Laura to help him with any loose boards they could find.

They maneuvered the dinner table to rest against the door and braced it with planks from shelving. Rick realized they couldn’t stand at the door all night. Not with an army of undead animals roaming the station’s perimeter and not with other ways into the headquarters.

Loud crashes rocked the walls. Peering out, Rick saw that more dead deer had found their scent and were ramming the building with their antlers. The wolves had also returned, not able to find any other sustenance for their eternal hunger.

Laura backed away from the doors and windows. She grabbed hold of a vacant chair as tears streamed her face now. “We’re never gonna make it. We’re never gonna make it, we’re never gonna make it!” Her pitch began climbing as she pulled the chair up and then slammed it down on the floor.

Martin cackled in the back of the room.

The laughter infuriated Rick to no end but he tried to bury it. He grabbed hold of Laura and pulled the chair out of her hands. “Yes, yes we are. Laura, hold it together. We’re gonna make it.” He could see the fear deep in her eyes and took her into his strong arms without hesitation, without thinking, without a pretense. It was just instinct. He held her tightly as her sobs seemed to fade. If we ever get out of this I swear I’m gonna finally ask her out. Enough of this don’t date on the job shit.

“Well aint that sweet…” Martin groaned. “What should we do about these back windows? There’s no more wood.”

Laura and Rick turned and stared at the windows in the back, naked, vulnerable, openings as big as canyons as far as they were concerned.

“We need something to cover those windows,” Rick said. “Let’s start looking around. There’s got to be something.”

“There’s some mesh screens at the bottom of the closet.” Laura ran to the closet and began rustling through it.

Howls called outside as more pounding shook the walls, as more scratching and biting battered the door.

“It’s better than nothing.” Rick joined in her search.

Laura put down her hatchet and began pulling screens out with both hands. She took them to the back windows and began holding them up against them, eyeballing the fit.

Rick put down his axe and tried to pull more screens out but a whole host of tools, fire extinguishers and junk fell on top of them and smashed his fingers. He let out a funny groan like a child having a tantrum and it caused Laura to laugh out loud.

She turned her head to tease him. “Nice going Ranger Ri-”

A giant set of bloody, ravaged paws smashed through the glass and dug into Laura’s head. She wailed in agony as the massive undead Grizzly ripped her through the window and into the forest.

“No! Laura!” Rick raced to the window as fast as he could. Desperation coiled inside of him but it was too late. He watched helplessly as the bear ripped into Laura’s chest like paper. Blood splattered its skeletal face. It tore down through her stomach and stuffed its maw into her, pulling out intestines and chewing voraciously.

The bear dug deeper, pulled organs and flesh out and delighted in the blood that poured over its fur. Its lifeless eyes glared up at Rick like two pale orbs devoid of all life. He could see the bear’s ribcage where other animals had torn into its body and watched as Laura’s flesh fell into it.

Red-smeared fangs glistened in the moonlight that illuminated the ghastly scene.

“Laura…” Rick filled with grief and rage, in his own sense of duty he vowed to protect her and he had failed. Failed miserably. Remorse washed through his soul and chilled him to the bone. “I’m so sorry…so-”

A wolf leapt through the open window and crashed into him, sending them both to the floor. It was the pack leader who had found its way into the headquarters at last.

It pinned the ranger to the floor and snapped with it jaws. As deadly in death as in life, the wolf used all its strength in order to satiate its need.

With his last efforts, Rick held the beast’s head with both hands, keeping the teeth at bay. Blood oozed out of the wolf and dripped onto Rick’s face. He turned away and caught Martin standing in the corner frozen. “Martin help!”

The old man couldn’t move.

Rick knew his axe lay by the closet door but it was out of his reach. “Martin the axe, the axe!”

Chaos and fury filled the room. Barks and howls became deafening in Rick’s ears as everything seemed to move in slow motion. He felt his body weakening. He felt bones protruding from the wolf’s body as it sprawled atop him.

At last, Martin kicked the axe near Rick’s fingertips but refused to do anything else. Rick grabbed hold of the axe and bashed the wolf across the head with the handle. It slid across the floor as Rick hopped to his feet.

The wolf rolled over and attempted to climb up until Rick drove the axe down into its skull. There was a loud crack and the animal collapsed. The ranger pulled the axe from the beast and whacked it again…and again.

He kicked the severed head to Martin’s feet.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He marched over to Martin, face blood-spattered, eyes aflame, rage pulsing through every vein and stood toe to toe with the old man. “I said what the hell is wrong with you? Another minute and I’d be torn to ribbons!”

“I-I don’t know…” Martin stammered trying to find something else in the room to stare at. “Everything’s…g-gone to shit…God save us.”

“God has nothing to do with this. We need to count on each other.”

Howls and growling called. Rick remembered the smashed window and rushed for the screen. “We need to get secure this with something. Look for a hammer and nails. Hurry.”

He pressed the screen up and through the mesh watched as the wolves joined the Grizzly in devouring Laura’s body. Working together the undead dragged her mangled body into the shadows.

Rick could not take his eyes off the spot where she died. A pool of blood looking black in the moonlight soaked the ground.

Martin finally came to his side and hammered the screen into the wall. The pair said nothing. The old man shuffled to the other side and lifted his hammer as the screen dipped a bit.

A raccoon, missing its back legs, pushed its way under the screen and latched its teeth onto Martin’s wrist. The old man wailed and stumbled backwards, falling onto the floor.

Rick stood staring and did nothing. He shook his head in disappointment.

“Help me! Help me!” Martin crawled on his rump and shook his arm up and down, back and forth trying to shake the creature loose. It held on like a vice.

Finally the old man used his free hand to pull the hunting knife from his belt and drive it into the raccoon’s head. Its jaws released and it fell to the floor. Martin hit a wall and stopped. His breathing was heavy and his wrist leaked globs of crimson.

“You’re infected,” Rick said brandishing his axe. He stepped slowly towards Martin, who trembled now.

“Rick…p-please…I-I. There’s a hospital in Kalispell.”

“You sabotaged all of the vehicles remember?” Rick drew closer. All he could see in his eyes was red, deep glistening red.

“No…Rick…please no.”

“You’ll die and then turn, Martin, but I’m not gonna let that happen. I’m not gonna let you bite me too. You understand? I’m doing you a favor. Do you really want to be one of them?”

“I can be cured, we haven’t even tried doctor’s yet. We—”

“We haven’t tried anything yet…no one knows but us Martin. We need to keep it that way, remember? Protect the forest. Protect mankind…remember Martin?”

Rick burst into laughter, his eyes wild and fierce. His heart slammed against his chest. With a rush he whacked into Martin as the old man’s screams rang in his ears. Blood sprayed the walls, the floor, covering Rick as he ultimately hacked Martin to pieces and in the end…severed his rotten old head.

Covered in blood and holding his axe aloft, Rick laughed and laughed. He felt some exhilaration in the deed. Some satisfaction. He wouldn’t exactly say he enjoyed it but he didn’t dislike it either. He was relieved…yes relieved…at peace…now blissful…He felt giddy and decided to dance, dance as if he was praying for rain.

Lunacy. Madness. Chaos consumed the night.

#

Rick did not open the closet door until the first rays of the morning sun peeked through the cracks. He climbed out and looked around the blood soaked room. He listened and heard nothing. All was as quiet as a library.

He pried the dinner table away from the door. He stepped outside and the light hurt his eyes. He noticed the broken antlers still embedded in the door but the undead deer had long broken free of them and was gone.

He started down one of the trails and headed toward the sun. He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t care. A smile began to twist on his face and he let the axe drag along the ground. The handset hooked to his belt crackled and a sound called to him in a rush of static…it sounded like moaning….like her moaning. He looked down to grab the radio and–

Out of the brush she came crawling toward him. Laura was almost nothing but an empty shell, what was left of her entrails dangled on the ground. She lurched and twitched and latched onto his leg. She groaned and opened her savage mouth to bite.

“Looking good Laura,” Rick quipped. “As always.” He swung the axe hard and ended her misery. He continued down the trail as behind him the critters of the wild stalked, moved, and quietly followed the last bit of living flesh in the entire forest.

——

John Grover is an horror and dark fantasy author residing in Boston, Massachusetts in the US. He has appeared many times in print and online. He is the author of several story
collections and chapbooks. His latest collection “A Beckoning of Shadows” has just been
released by Naked Snake Books. Please visit his website www.shadowtales.com for more info on his works and purchasing information.

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