He let out a soft moan and leaned his forehead against the wet tiles.
Pepe set his paws on the edge of the tub and stared up at him with concern.
"I'm okay," Eric assured him and stripped down to take a decent shower.
Now that his drunken binge was over and his head was clearing, he realized that he needed to decide right here and now if he wanted to live or not. The world was in its death throes, his family was most likely gone, Brandy was dead and even his very last friend, Stephanie, was gone. All that was left was he and Pepe.
He looked over at the little dog anxiously watching him and felt a pang of guilt. How could he let himself go this far? Pepe needed him. The Jack Russel Terrier was faithful and loved him. Eric often called him "my furry little boy" and the small dog was all he had left. To some people, that would mean nothing, but to Eric, it meant everything.
"We're going to be okay," Eric said to Pepe. "I promise. Somehow, someway, we'll make it."
Pepe wagged his tail and that made Eric smile.
"We'll even go for a walk if there are no zombies around," Eric added.
Pepe wagged his tail even harder at the word "walk" and Eric found himself laughing despite everything.
After shaving, changing into fresh clothes, and a lunch of sandwiches and what was left of the fresh fruit, Eric felt better and a little more clearheaded than he had in awhile. His dream, though disturbing, had reminded him that fighting for his life to the bitter end was something he could do.
He was a good Episcopalian and he believed in God and the afterlife. The ruined bodies of the once living did not hold the souls of those people. Just the ravaged shells. He had to believe that the souls of his folks, Brandy and Stephanie were in a different place. Free of pain and fear. But he was still alive and he could fight for that life. For what reason, he wasn't too sure. He believed that his life had a purpose. He always had. What it was now, in this new dead world, he wasn't sure.
"I feel like Job," he said to Pepe as he finished his strawberries. "Like God is testing me to see if I will curse His name or keep going."
Pepe looked up from where he was chewing on the antique toy. It was pretty much destroyed now, whatever it had been. It had looked like either a cat or weird cow.
"Maybe this is Satan's big plan to take over the world from God," Eric mused. He hadn't really thought about spirituality in a long time. He went to church on occasion with Brandy, but for the big holidays. Though he had remained faithful in his belief in God, Satan, demons, angels and other spirits seemed fanciful. But now that the dead walked the earth, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe there was just a bit more to it all than he had considered.
"Maybe all of humanity is Job. Being tested by Satan to see if we turn on God." He chewed a blueberry thoughtfully. "Maybe this is some kind of big reset."
Pepe yawned dramatically and flopped next to the ruined doll. He had tinkled in the bathroom again and Eric felt bad for making the dog rough it. He needed to check the perimeter of the house before they ventured out. Clearing the table, he took a deep breath.
Maybe Stephanie had climbed onto the roof. Maybe she had only enough time to type "bye" before plunging out a window to scramble to safety. Maybe she was already rescued. Of course, she was most likely dead or undead. But that tiny spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, she had made it out of that attic made him feel more hopeful for himself and Pepe.
He did his regular routine that he always did before they ventured out. Checked out all the windows, off the balcony, studied the view through the peephole, looked at Pepe to see if he was alarmed, then finally opened the door. It was a lovely afternoon and perhaps deceptively calm. Pepe skipped down the walk to find a suitable place to do his business and Eric yawned loudly.
Above them birds soared on the spring breeze and the insects buzzed in the garden. It was hard to believe that the world as he knew it had ended.
Once Pepe was done with his business, they walked down to the parking lot together. Eric held the revolver in his hand and had the shotgun slung over his shoulder.
"Okay, boy, are any zombies around?"
Pepe looked back at him, kicked up his back feet, and trotted to the end of his leash. Eric wasn't sure why he trusted the dog so thoroughly, but he felt himself relax as the started down the drive. The walk was uneventful and despite his trepidation, Eric walked down far enough to take a look through his binoculars at the community center.
Shadow figures lurked inside, but none were in the streets.
"We're still safe," Eric said to Pepe.
The dog skipped along the edge of the road after a bug, ignoring him.
The walk back to the house was tranquil. Pepe trotted along without a care in the world and Eric felt comforted by that. They were lucky the entire town was locked away in that center or else everyone had taken off to other places to be with their family. He wondered about Mrs. Waskom, but he had a bad feeling about her fate.
Once back inside the house, he locked the door and let Pepe off the leash. The little dog skipped down the hall to the kitchen to take a long drink of water from his bowl. Eric went back to Mrs. Waskom's office and turned on the monitor.
On the screen was another IM. It wasn't from Stephanie but someone calling herself texaspeg.
The message simply read: If you're alive, lemme know.
Eric immediately wrote back: I'm here. Safe and sound.
There was a very long pause then more words appeared: where in texas, hon?
Eric quickly typed out his location, his hands trembling with excitement and nervousness.
When the words popped up in the box, he let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
I'm in Ashley Oaks. We're holed up in city hall and inside a construction site. You're not too far from us. Thirty miles.
Eric quickly typed, explaining his situation and asking if she was safe.
Got lots of people here. Got a wall put up. Got supplies to last awhile. People are off getting guns. Lots of zombies though, hon. Keep where you are til we clear them out.
Eric laughed with delight and quickly typed back that he would do just that. To just let him know when the coast was clear.
We'll come get you when we can. Just gotta kill a whole lot of zombies first. We got a plan to do it and it shouldn't take long.
Pepe skipped into the room with the toy in his mouth and plopped down next to the chair.
"We're not alone, Pepe. There are other people out there and they’re safe. They're in a safe place. They actually think they can take out a whole crowd of zombies."
Pepe didn't look too impressed by this and kept chewing on the doll.
Eric looked back at the screen. The words that glowed there made him feel a little less alone in the ugliness of the world.
The words read: My name is Peggy. And I'm glad to meet ya.
Chapter Twelve
Clones, Aliens and Amazons
Hope is a wondrous thing. After typing back and forth with Peggy most of the afternoon, the malaise and depression that had threatened to overwhelm Eric shrank back from the glory of his newfound hope.
Before his conversation with Peggy he had decided to fight for his life and Pepe, but after realizing that there were more survivors out there, he felt a renewed sense of community and drew strength from it. He wasn't alone. There were others. And they had a place saved for him in their "fort".
That night, he actually made himself dinner instead of eating a sandwich or eating leftovers. Using the last of the fresh vegetables and thawing out some chicken, he made a meal that left him feeling sated and a little more normal.
Afterwards, he sat upstairs in his room with a cup of coffee and the last piece of pie. Bored and curious to see if anything was changing, he began flipping through the TV channels one by one. The major networks were gone and running the emergency broadcast feed. It was looping the same old news. All the other cable networks were gone now.
Channel after channel, there was nothing but static.
Pepe trotted into the room dragging the nearly destroyed toy and flung it down in front of the TV to begin his mutilation. Eric grinned and leaned down to pet Pepe's head as he continued to flip channels.
"…and they knew it…"
His finger automatically hit the channel button despite hearing the voice. He quickly hit the return button. An old man's face filled the screen. It was a craggy face with deep wrinkles in the sun worn flesh and a big nose. His eyes were wide and very intense under his wiry eyebrows and he wore what appeared to be an army helmet with foil glued to it.
"…think its coincidence that the President was at Camp David and the VP was out in East Texas hunting when this all went down? I tell you no! No, no, no, no! How many stories did they cover up? Stories about people biting each other? Or killing so they could…could…" The old guy backed away from the screen and he pantomimed a zombie eating a person quite well. "You know…eat!"
"Whoa, what a crazy old geezer," Eric said in awe.
The old man was standing in the middle of a long, narrow room that appeared to be made of cement blocks and concrete. There was a cot in one corner piled with blankets and pillows, a very beat-up sofa was filled with all sorts of dog that were watching the old man with rapt attention, and a table was shoved up along one wall and full of all sorts of computer and electronic equipment.