5. A Screaming Fish Unheard

RIVER ZOMBIES, EPISODE 5: The strongest among us are often tasked with the darkest deeds.

When the zombies came, they came from the rivers. These are the memoirs of Jack Gray, who fought for survival and sanity during an absurd apocalypse. If you’re new to Jack’s story, please consider starting with the first episode.

<< RWD

I was a child. I had spiked hair and a neon windbreaker and that Trapper Keeper with the red Ferrari on the front. I rode my BMX to the corner store to buy penny candy and Batman comics. I jumped and cheered and spilled my popcorn everywhere when Kirk and crew brought back the whales. I had a 4-Head VCR and a whole shelf in my bedroom that was dedicated to science fiction movies. Nothing was better than my mother’s lemon meringue pie. I hated going fishing with my father, but I went and I didn’t complain because that was the only time I could spend with him outside the family’s auction business. I was a child.

FFWD >>

I aimed my rifle at the head of my neighbor, Walter Flannigan. He was 73 years old and a bull of a man: a stalwart in our line, a crack shot with a rifle, a juggernaut with an axe. He was bald and grizzled and speckled from all those years working in the sun. He had lost his wife, Edith, long ago. The zombies had brought death to his children and his grandchildren. He was alone in the world and alone in the house two doors up from mine. He liked my beard and had always mourned not being able to grow one himself. I liked his homemade strawberry wine that he handed out every Thanksgiving. I aimed my rifle at his head.

We were in the street, in front of Walter’s house, just before sunset. Many others from the neighborhood were gathered behind me. Walter faced west, his back to the killing field. He stood at attention in his white service uniform.

<< RWD

Chief Petty Officer Walter H. Flannigan sat with me on my front porch early that morning. The flesh around the bite wound on his right shoulder had turned green and the open gash oozed orange-blue pus. Like many of us, Walter had been bitten or scratched multiple times without any negative effects. This time was different.

“I don’t want to wait to find out, Jack,” he told me. “I don’t want to wait and see if I’ll just die a painful death or turn into one of those things. I can’t pull the trigger myself. I need your help. I know you don’t believe, and that’s okay, but I don’t want to damn myself.”

“But it’s okay if I go to hell,” I smirked, “being an apostate and all.”

“Mercy isn’t murder.”

“Why me?”

“You’re the only one with the courage and the necessary constitution,” his voice shook.

“That’s not true,” I argued. “There are plenty —“

“Don’t conflate the ability to fight for survival with courage. None of them others would do it,” Walter shook his head, “and you know it.” He took the cigarette I offered and after a long first drag he said, “Your wife has courage. Courage like I’ve never seen. All those years in the Navy. All that fighting. I never saw anything like Elizabeth.”

“You know,” I laughed, “all these years we’ve known each other — all the dinners and the cookouts — she never liked you using her full name.”

“I always felt she was too remarkable to be just a Betty,” he shrugged. “And now, since all this started, my God, man! When she chases after them, knives drawn, that blue hair of hers whipping up behind her like a gas fire. She remains remarkable, mind you, but now she’s far too terrifying to be just a Betty. I wish she had said something.”

“She didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” I tried to dismiss his regret. I wished I hadn’t said anything. “Besides, she looks at you as a sort of father figure. She didn’t want to make it like she was telling you off. She’s too fond of you.”

“Well,” Walter frowned, “in this life, your father is the first person you should tell to fuck off and mean it. One day, Liam will tell you to fuck off. When he does, don’t retaliate. And don’t grieve. It shows great strength of character to tell your father to fuck off and genuinely mean it.”

FFWD >>

I asked Betty to stay with Liam inside our house. I don’t know what innocence my ten-year-old son had left to protect, but I didn’t want him to see his father execute a neighbor, a friend who had brought him toys and who had eaten at our table. I wished I could’ve trusted Liam to keep himself busy with something. I needed Betty at my side. I needed to have her hand on the small of my back and her lips near my ear so I could hear her say, “It’s okay, Jack. You’re doing the right thing. You’re helping.”

I stood there, pointing my rifle at Walter’s head, in the company of dozens of my neighbors. I waited for one of them — just one — to step forward and say, “What the fuck is going on?” The rifle became heavy; I lowered it. Murmurs of disappointment emanated from the crowd. They were faint, like distant thunder that might have been a far away truck, but the sentiment was there.

I shook with rage and lowered my head. I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed. Slowly. I felt a hand on the small of my back and I opened my eyes. Betty was there with a sad smile and a head nod.

“But Liam,” I whispered.

“Kyle,” she said. “Kyle knew you would need me here. He and Liam are playing.”

I looked at Walter. The bandages no longer held back the infection, and the sickness leached through his pressed white shirt. Desperation flashed from his brave gaze. He looked at my wife and said, “Say goodbye to Liam for me. I’ve left a gift for him in my study. It’s marked with his name.”

“Okay, Walter,” Betty sobbed, “I will.”

“Farewell, Betty,” he winked.

Betty buried her face into my chest. Her tears soaked through my shirt.

I leveled my rifle.

“It’s okay,” Betty said. “It’s okay.”

Walter began to sing:

You who dwell in the shelter of the Lord
Who abide in His shadow for life
Say to the Lord, "My refuge, my rock in whom I trust!"

The neighbors joined Walter in the chorus.

And He will raise you up on eagles' wings
Bear you on the breath of dawn
Make you to shine like the sun
And hold you in the palm of His hand

I squeezed the trigger. The singing stopped. Walter’s head disintegrated beneath his Navy cap. No one screamed. No one cried out. I broke from my wife’s embrace and turned around to face my neighbors. Betty threw her arms around my waist and squeezed. She pulled at me and pleaded, “No, Jack. Don’t. Just come home. Let’s go home.”

<< RWD

I was a child who begrudgingly went fishing with my father. I wondered if the fish were screaming, but we couldn’t hear them because they had no voice when they were pulled out of the water.

PAUSE | |

I have screamed; no one has heard me.

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This has been Episode 5 of River Zombies, a serial survival tale steeped in comedy, horror, and misery. A new episode is published every two weeks. To start from the beginning, please click here. Find all previous episodes in the archive.

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