White Ash on Bone: A Zombie Novel (4 page)

Donna stroked Jack’s cat, “What’s your cat’s name?”

“Naomi,” he replied. “She’s more than just a cat; she’s practically my child.”

Jack paced from window to window, keeping a constant vigil on his property.  He suggested that she take a shower and wash off the grime from her ordeal. 

Donna was amazed at how good the shower felt.  It washed away some of the trauma but not all of it.  None of what she had seen seemed real to her.  She sat in an over-sized sweater and sweat-pants that belonged to Jack.  The clothes felt warm and soft on her, even though they were too large.  The cat also helped restore a sense of counterbalance to the fear in her heart.  For the moment, she almost felt safe.  They were silent for a time and listened to the occasional gunfire going off in various places in the city.

Jack stood by the window with his fingers holding two slats of a blind apart.  He looked through the opening down at the brick lined street below.  “My neighbor is looking up at me,” Jack said. 

Donna turned her head to look at him.  “Is he trying to get your attention?” Donna asked. 

“No, he is just standing there,” Jack said.  “He’s also missing an arm.”

Naomi, sensing the tension, shifted uneasily on Donna’s lap.  Donna’s heart beat faster at the thought of the armless neighbor below.  “I don’t understand how this can be happening,” she said.

A door opened to a house directly behind the armless man, and the elderly widow, Mrs. McDermit, emerged from her house.  Jack could hear her ask the man if he was hurt. 

“Oh god,” Jack gasped. 

The armless man turned and began moving in the direction of McDermit.

Donna set the cat down and moved to the window.  She parted the blinds and watched as the man closed in on the old lady.  “Jack, we have to help her,” Donna said, but Jack was already rushing down the stairs. 

He burst through the front door of his home and ran across the street. He could see he was not going to make it in time.  McDermit was already a crumpled mass under the creature’s form. 

Using all his momentum, Jack sent the ghoul crashing into the porch railing with a well-placed kick.  The railing cracked under the ghoul’s weight and the one-armed man went through it. 

The creature rose, this time with its attention directed at Jack.  The lifeless eyes of the ghoul fixed on Jack as it moved forward.  The one remaining arm of the ghoul reached out at Jack. Its lips parted to reveal teeth covered in fat laden flesh from McDermit. 

Jack felt his guts turn, and fear sent pain shooting up and down his spine.  Nearly panicked, he reached for his .45 while he backed up away from the ghoul. 

Donna screamed, “Look out for the curb,” but it was too late. Jack could already feel himself tripping over it. 

Hitting the ground, Jack desperately scrambled in reverse across the brick street.  The ghoul was looming closer. 

Jack realized he couldn’t escape the creature, and he went for the gun again. 

The holster yielded the weapon as the ghoul closed in. At the last instant, the gun erupted.  Jack placed a round directly into the chest of the creature. 

The 1911 handgun was designed for military use.  Not only would it put a bullet through you, but it had power enough to throw a charging enemy backwards.  True to its nature, it threw the creature over backwards on the ground; it also blew out a section of its chest. 

Jack used the time to scramble up on one knee and he re-leveled the gun at his target; it was still moving.  The one arm of the ghoul fought and found the leverage to pull its ravaged body erect.  Another explosion from Jack’s gun hurled the creature to the ground. The impact sent a section of its face going in a different direction. The zombie again moved to stand back up.

“Fuck this,” Jack screamed as he aimed the next round straight at the ghoul’s head.  The round blew the remaining portion of the head into gruesome mixture of bone and brain matter on the brick. 

Jack pulled himself off the ground and noticed McDermit getting up. She looked at him with the same glazed eyes the other man had. “Shit, Mrs. McDermit, you deserve better than this, I’m sorry.”

McDermit’s only answer was her fixed stare as she moved on Jack.  Jack knew he had only two rounds left in the clip, so he let McDermit close the distance before he pulled the trigger.  The gun thundered. He placed a merciful round in her head ending whatever nightmare had overcome her.

Donna hastened to Jack on the street, and she pulled on his arm. “There are several more down the street,” she said.  Jack allowed himself to be led back into the house without another word.

Chapter Three

Paul Sulla was not a typical elected official.  At the age of 21 he became the youngest person to be serving in office in Pennsylvania. His election to the office of Township Supervisor was narrowly won by two votes after a long door-to-door campaign.   

In his campaign flyers, Paul featured himself sitting on his father’s green John Deere tractor.  The flyer read, “Community values, one generation to the next.  The Sulla family had been farming in the area for the last seventy some years but had never taken an interest in politics until now.  He decided to run for office after his mother lost a five year battle to breast cancer.  Before her death, she told Paul that she always pictured him making a career in politics.  The election caused quite a stir at the time in Penn Township, but a few years had passed since then. 

Paul had put on a couple of years and a rather dashing goatee since then.  He enjoyed serving his community on the three-member board.  Every Friday, Paul would head in to the township office to sign checks so that the municipality could pay its bills.  Paul would usually go in to the office in the morning, but a friend was having issues with wiring on a boat. Paul agreed to help his friend fix the problem.

What Paul had thought would be an easy fix turned out to be a wiring nightmare.  The morning hours had bled away, and time rolled well past lunch before Paul figured out that someone had reversed the positive and negative leads on the boat. 

Paul said his goodbyes to his friend and headed into the township office where, George, the township secretary would likely have the checks waiting to be signed. 

George had been recently hired by the municipality to replace the manager who had just retired.  While still new, George was fairly meticulous with his accounting background but had zero experience dealing with anything emergency related.  In fairness, it was his third week on the job. 

Sulla parked his car by the building’s flagpole and headed for the front office of the township building.  George rushed out into the parking lot to meet him. 

"Thank god you’re here," George said. "I can't reach anyone, and I don’t know what to do."

Sulla with a serious look on his face asked, "What's going on?"

"There’s something happening in downtown Butler,” George said. “I don’t know what, but I can't reach our emergency services.  We received a number of calls from the Butler County EOC asking for assistance from every local police and fire department.  We responded, and our guys went to help."

The township had a long-standing mutual-aid agreement with its neighboring municipalities. It was not unusual for situations to arise where officers would render such aid.

"Paul," George said, "It's been hours since any of our people have responded on the radio.”

"Have you been able to get in contact with the other supervisors?" Sulla asked. 

"No, they’re both at their regular jobs in Pittsburgh, and the phones are jammed," George said. 

"Well, I guess it is on me then," Sulla said.  A few minutes later, George joined Paul in the police department section of the building.  Paul turned the volume of the police radio up, and they both began to listen.

"Mall Command Center to EOC, we have about 30 personnel, 800 civilians, and 60 injuries.  We are turning all southbound traffic around north of the mall, and we are directing refugees into the food court here.  EOC, we are requesting an update on those ambulances."

"This is EOC, we copy that. We're negative on ambulances to your position at this time. We do not have communications with Butler Hospital.  Slippery Rock Hospital should be considered the new evacuation site for your injured."

Sulla grabbed the microphone and pressed the push to talk button, "This is Penn Township requesting
any information on our dispatched emergency service personnel."

"EOC to Penn, it’s good to hear from you.  Negative on any information, we are just as in the dark as you at the moment.  Penn, we are requesting that you turn all North bound traffic around on Route 8, and that you prepare for civilian refugees fleeing the city.  One last thing, there are reports of rioting so make sure your people are armed."

"George, call the guys from down in the road department and get them up here.  Load up every gun, flare, and walkie-talkie we got into one of the squad cars. Have them meet me down at the restaurant on Route 8.  Tell them I want traffic turned around at the southern edge of the township.  I also want all of our trucks loaded up with any Jersey Barriers we have, and get them to the restaurant as well."

Paul Sulla scratched at his facial hair and thought.  "Call the school district, and inform them of the situation.  Tell them they should consider whatever emergency contingency plans they have for a lockdown or evacuation.  Tell them that whatever they are going to do, do it now because I want their busses available in two hours.  We may need them for evacuation."

"You want me to do anything else?" George said. 

"Stay here, and try and get me any information you can. Also try and round up some back up for us from the South," Sulla said. “I can’t imagine what in the world is going on for the EOC to tell us to arm ourselves.  I can only imagine terrorism, but what the hell would they want in Butler of all places?”

Sulla stood and headed for the door; his hand paused on the doorknob.  "George, make sure you lock the door behind me."

Sulla went into the equipment room and selected a black jacket with yellow reflector strips on the arms.  On the back of the jacket the reflection material read, "PENN TOWNSHIP".  Sulla also grabbed a riot shotgun and an AR-15.  He stuffed ammo for each weapon into a duffle bag and took the keys for the unmarked police cruiser still in the squad bay.  Sulla did a quick radio check to the EOC and George.  He then left the municipal building.

The diner in Penn Township is best described as a greasy spoon, but the food’s always been good.  It’s located along Route 8, and the building is well into its years.  The likeness of Humpty Dumpty sits atop the diner.  The Egg Man has needed a paint job since at least 1980. 

Sulla entered the restaurant announced by the squeaky hinged front door. More than a dozen pairs of aged eyes turned to look at the young man.  Sulla looked at the old-timers haunting the restaurant.  They represented a celebrated category of the American experience.  They were veterans. 

"Gentleman," Sulla said, "I'll make this as short as possible.  As some of you know, I’m Paul Sulla, Township Supervisor here in Penn.  The Butler County Emergency Operations Center has contacted us asking us to turn traffic around.  There has been some kind of event in the City of Butler.  The County EOC has lost contact with the officers and personal sent in to help; this includes our own township’s officers.  I know many of you served in the armed forces at one point or another. The township needs your help.  I need your help."

The old-timers looked at Sulla and didn’t answer.

Sulla went on. "Anyone who volunteers will have their bills picked up today by the township.”

"Now you’re talking our language," said one of the old guys.

Three Road Department trucks pulled into the parking lot outside.  "Anyone who can help is asked to be outside in five minutes,” Sulla said.  “If you have a gun with you, or you can get to one in the next 15 minutes do so now."

Outside the restaurant Sulla looked at the crowd. Between the road department, restaurant patrons, and other personnel George had managed to send his way, Sulla had 28 volunteers. 

In the restaurant, Sulla had discovered a man by the name of Dan Wilson who used to be a State Trooper.  Wilson had recently retired from service and moved to Penn Township.

Sulla half expected to find Wilson at the restaurant and offered him an emergency position working for the township. 

The traffic heading north was stopped by members of the road department who set up roadblocks.  Sulla split the volunteers into different teams.  He sent five men out to round up more volunteers. They would then assemble at the airport.

One of the veterans had been a radio operator in Vietnam. Sulla sent him up to the municipal building to take over for George.  Sulla sent a dozen other people off to pick up guns from their homes.  They were to then go to the airport and help organize the evacuation point.

The rest, Wilson included, would take the squad car and a couple of road department trucks north to the edge of the township to see what was going on in Butler. 

Sulla distributed radios and weapons to the men, and then everyone moved out. 

The northern edge of the township seemed normal at first.  As they crested the hill, Sulla could see smoke rising from Butler in the distance. A number of people from the Chevy dealership stood at the intersection watching the smoke.

Sulla had one of the road department trucks deploy jersey barriers across the north bound lanes at the intersection.  They could hear gunfire from the valley below. The few cars heading south on Route 8 roared through the intersection going way over the speed limit; they didn’t bother to stop.