This Isn’t The 80’s
All I Want Is To Not Be Alone: Stories From The Start #11
It’s a slow procession up the hill. The chain keeps sliding off the cog, halting Jamie’s progress. Each stop and restart allows the group of stinking zombies to gain a few steps and close the gap he’d been happy he’d established.
The noon sun doesn’t help him. He’s a sitting duck chugging up the middle of the street. But it’s the only way. Up and around. He checked down the straight path to the hospital, and it looked bleak. His little perch, up on the fast-food joint, sank his spirits faster than a torpedo.
His dad has to be there. Jamie is sure he’s OK in there. It makes sense, given what he saw, that his dad is stuck there. How could he not be, with the sea of bodies surrounding the campus?
But he can’t make a straight run there, no, that would be a suicide mission. The only way is this road that runs up a small mountain range that lines the eastern side of the flat land. He couldn’t shake the group following him from earlier this morning, and the uphill climb kept his pace to a crawl. He even hopped off and went on foot around some of the upward bends.
They’re creepy. One of the ones in the lead is this hollowed out older man. It looks like his skin was frozen and his insides deflated, as if they had been sucked in with a vacuum. His eyes are the worst. They’re like sunken ghost ships in the deepest sea crevice.
Jamie pedals on to the song playing on repeat in his mind. He tries to keep his eyes forward. It’s hard not to look back.
The street rises endlessly until it doesn’t, and levels out to a small plateau of an outlook. He takes a small break and catches his breath. The last upward stretch kept the distance between him and his followers steady. They struggle with their footing, with some even tumbling back downhill.
Below the overhang, nestled just off the side of the road, sits a small structure. It looks gated and boasts loudly about its vacancy. Jamie checks back. They still come. His legs protest. He needs a place to rest. He’s not making it all the way to the hospital on so little food and sleep.
He grabs his bike, forces his muscles to spring into action, and coasts down the hill toward the motel.
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And that, I tell you, is the last of those little mice. Wicked little things they ended up being. Really of no use at all. What a shame.
I had to lop ‘em off, one by one. Most were sleeping. What silly little things. They should’ve known better than to let me in. Let their guard down. That’ll get you killed out here, alright.
Now, look at ‘em. Taking a little sunbath. They’re almost cute.
I rub my eyes. The sun stings. It always does. I take a drink. My water bottle is all mucked up from those mucks. They were a messy bunch. But that’s all ancient history now. Now is now, and that’s what needs to be now.
And what’s next? That’s what’s on my mind now. Next. This place is pretty good. No bangers around really. That’s a plus, but no mice either. Not so much a plus. What to do with myself?
I sit back up on the rooftop. Right on top of that silly motorcycle helmet. It’s like sitting on a rock. I survey my space here. What’s mine.
And then, I tell you, I see something interesting that might just turn this day around.
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Jamie cruises to the front gate of the motel parking lot. It’s locked with a thick chain and a husky padlock. Behind it, opens the parking lot with what looks like a pool area in the middle. It could be a little island getaway in the sea of pavement if it weren’t for the fact that it’s filled with stained bodies.
They don’t move like the ones slowly making their way down the hill. At least not yet. They might. He’s still not sure how it all works. Of what the real rules are. The thing that’s important is the fact that they aren’t moving yet.
He places his bike down and moves to the gate. He wraps his fingers in the chain-link metal and gives a mighty shake.
If any are inside, they’ll come running to this racket.
What answers is not what he expects and sends him tumbling back, off-guard.
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“Hey, turkey!” I say.
The turkey looks up, all stunned like. He should have thicker skin, I tell you.
“You should have thicker skin,” I tell him.
He stumbles back and nearly falls on his ass. What a joke. What am I gonna do with this one? It’s all I can think about now.
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Jamie gets up and dusts off his pants. He has to shield his eyes to see the little figure standing up on the roof. It looks like the little elf on a shelf that his dad puts up around Christmas time.
From the voice, he guesses it’s a girl. She must be young, too. It’s hard to tell, staring into the sun.
He shouts back. He asks if she’s OK. If she’s hurt. Does she need any help?
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This one starts squawking on and on. All this nonsense. He’s gonna wake the dead. There’ll be bangers all over this place in no time. I tell you, that little birdie is gonna get us killed.
But not if I have any say in it. Nope. I gotta wrangle this one in, so I jump down and go to the fence. Past the rest of these mucks lounging in the pool.
I get there. The sun hurts. It’s like knives right into my pupils.
“What do you want?” I ask the turkey.
He looks at me, all dumb like. Maybe he’s more of a monkey, but I’d call him a rabbit. He looks so very soft.
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The girl comes to the inside of the gate. She’s covered from head to toe with gunk and blood. She looks like she took a swim in the pool.
The thought runs through Jamie’s mind. He moves it far to the back and focuses on the person in front of him. Up close, he guesses she is about his age. Maybe a year or two younger.
She’s short and has on a full tracksuit with matching brand sneakers. It must have all been white at one time. It isn’t anymore.
He repeats himself, “Are you OK?”
She answers, but says something that makes no sense at all. The words are there, but like a nonsensical code. He looks at her with a questioning eyebrow raise. She seems to lose her patience immediately.
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I tell you, this one is insufferable. It’s like he doesn’t speak a word of English. It’s not like I’m speaking in tongues here.
A blank stare is all I get. Maybe he’s a bit slow. That’s all I need. Keep up, here friend-o. You wanna live or die? Speed is everything here.
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“Um, so look, I’m not sure if you’re OK. I guess maybe you’re not. But this place looks bad. You shouldn’t stay here. And there’s a huge group coming. Look up the road. They won’t take long to get here. We should leave. I’m going to the hospital. The big one in the next town. You can come with me.”
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I knew it. I told you his gabbing would bring a ton of bangers. He points out his own stupidity. Of course they’re coming, muck-o. You basically rang the dinner bell to draw ‘em in.
But, despite his boyish bristle, he might have a point. Here is pretty dead. I mean, look at it. Quite literally.
This hospital idea might not be so bad. Should be people camped out there. Alone. Afraid, just looking for someone to step up. Take the lead. Little mice all in a row.
The first one, here. Come, little fuzzy one, pedal on your wheel. You’ll get me there faster.
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The girl paces back and forth as if in an intense debate with her own shadow. She mumbles a lot. Then, finally, she pulls a key out of her track pants and opens the gate. She points to the bike and says she’ll come.
Jamie understands this. The crowd coming down the hill spills into his side view, but for some reason, he’s stuck looking at her.
He shakes his head loose and picks up his bike. He sits and pats the metal runner sitting between the handles. He can pedal. She can ride.
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What does this one think? I tell you, he thinks this is the 80’s or some shit. Like riding on the handlebars is something I’m gonna do.
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She hesitates, so Jamie tries to reassure her.
“It’ll be great! You know, like those old movies from the 80’s? They always had a bike ride at the climax. We could be like that. Come on! That group is getting too close for comfort. Hop on!”
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I’m about ready to strangle this little chick-a-dee.
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The girl pauses, then moves to the back of the bike. She pushes Jamie up the tip of the seat to the point that it hurts between his legs. She tries to fit on the back but doesn’t, so she settles on the metal railing that hangs over the rear wheel. It usually carries a basket, but it wasn’t attached when he grabbed the bike from their shed.
He settles back into a position where he can pedal and feels her arms wrap around his waist. It makes him give three false starts and nearly topple them into a nearby bush.
Finally, he catches a rhythm, and they sail away, down the street, leaving the oncoming herd to fill the empty lot.
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This turkey drives like a bat. Blind, I tell you. He zigs, and he zags. It’s like being on a roller coaster. I’m gonna get sick. Then he’ll get what’s coming to him. All down his back. All into that stupid shirt. It smells like musk and teenager.
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Jamie strides at a steady pace down the now level road. It’s littered with holes and cracks but remains mostly empty. They pass a gas station and a storage facility. Both produce some shambling bodies, but nothing that trips them up or slows them.
The afternoon melts into evening, and they reach the outskirts of the small town. The hospital sits at the south end. They enter from the east.
Jamie pulls over and explains his idea.
They should slowly circle inward toward the hospital. They can check the streets before going down them and try to use things like trash cans or cars with any juice left to draw out any of the undead with sound and slink past.
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This boy is such a boy. Talking and talking and planning and planning. Not doing. You need to do something to not be dead out here. He should know that, but his soft, little hands tell me he doesn’t. How predictable. Like a little one-two step. One always follows two.
I’ve had enough of it all, I tell you. I’m getting antsy. My eyes feel too heavy for waiting. We need to speed it up, here. Toothpicks in, pedal to the metal, stop wasting time, birdie.
I push him to the hard back and hop on the seat. It feels soft to the hard metal rungs, and my legs push down with ease. We take off like a rocket, I tell you. I can really move.
The turkey almost falls off. Fly, little bird. His arms wave, then find my waist, like mine did his. He feels soft, like a pillow. Haven’t had one of those in I don’t know how long.
We fly down the streets, talking be damned. Two birds, like hawks. We swoop for the kill.
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She’s insane! She’s going to get us killed! That’s it. That’s my end. Here lies Jamie, dead by the whims of an insane bike girl.
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We make record speed, I tell you. Flying. The boy says something into my ear, but the wind knocks it out. It doesn’t matter. I tell you, that hospital is just around the corner now. I can smell it, like a barnyard.
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Jamie holds so tight his knuckles turn white. His fingers hurt. It feels like he might lose a few nails. He might lose whatever small food sits deep in his gut. He might just lose his mind.
She doesn’t seem to understand caution, even in the pure definition of the word. She pedals at full speed and nearly skids out around every corner. She doesn’t look side-to-side or back. He’s not even sure if she’s looking forward. She’s just in motion.
They come to a roundabout, and she leans into the left bend. They travel past all the exits. Twice. For a fleeting moment, it dawns on him that she might be having fun. This, here and now, is fun.
It makes his stomach flip even more than it already is with the absolute certainty that this girl is steering them directly to their doom.
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This turkey is of no help at all. I’m telling him to read the signs around the circle. One should point us toward the hospital, and he just clings to me like he’s frozen in time.
I tell you, a girl’s got to do everything herself. I don’t want to scare the little birdie, so I don’t want to let on just how many bangers are right on us. We can’t afford to slow down. We’d be breakfast, lunch, or dinner.
The sign! I yell my voice out, and Turkey-boy finally, finally gets it. He points, and I veer down the way. Not too late. My little peepers catch the crowd hitting the circle just as we exit.
At this rate, whatever little mice are at this hospital are gonna have to fight us and this group. Don’t think we’ll shake them in the last stretch.
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The hospital rises in its eight-floor stance down the street. It’s a straight shot and, to Jamie’s surprise, the way looks mostly clear in front of them. Just a long corridor of houses and driveways. Some have those mailboxes that sit against the street. Some of those are smashed and lie on the sidewalk like corpses of another life.
The bike sputters, and the chain slips off again. The girl’s feet don’t stop pedaling to nowhere.
Jamie tries to be quiet, but ends up yelling for her to stop. They have to get off. He needs to fix the chain. They’re so close.
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The turkey’s bike is broken. What a piece of junk. We need to hoof it, but he stays by the fallen ride. He has a death wish, I tell you.
I pull at his little, flappy arm. He jiggles with part of the bike. I’m going to have to leave him. Leave this little boy to die by his own hand. All my efforts wasted. Why doesn’t he see that?
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Jamie swipes her pulling hands away. He almost has it. Why is she messing with him? He sees the herd following them, her lack of caution catching up. This girl, with pure drive of energy, is going to get them killed.
They can’t outrun this many. There’s probably more in the side streets. They’d make it to the front of the hospital just to be surrounded. That’d be the ultimate ironic twist. His dad, in there fighting for life, would die, having been bitten by the dead husk of his own son. They could write a book about it, if books will ever be written again.
He tells her to calm down and gives her a hard shove. It makes her lose her footing, and she falls back onto the hard street.
Jamie says sorry but doesn’t stop wrenching the chain back into place.
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That’s going to leave a bruise later. Looks like my little turkey has some dropped cojones, after all.
I get up and dust myself off. This little boy might just be up to par. He might even be full of some surprises.
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He snags it. He flips the bike back over just as the circling horde converges onto their road. They’re packed so densely he can’t make out individual features, even this close.
He grabs up the handles and spins the bike toward the nearest side street. She stands, just looking at him with big eyes.
“Come on! We have to go!”
He doesn’t ask. He steers right into her. He’s either going to mow her over or pull off a daring rescue maneuver.
Both could be bad for him.
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Like a knight, I tell you. Little chick-a-dee swoops me right off my feet. Right onto those handlebars.
Right out of a stupid sequence from one of those stupid 80’s movies. Just like he said. What a turkey.
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They don’t crash into a heap. She readies herself and does a half-jump-half-twist up onto the handlebars.
It nearly rips the grip from his right hand, and they drift. The front tire hits the curb and bounces back out into the road. He pushes, and they take a slow lurch toward the smooth surface.
The bike levels out, and the chain sticks on the cog, this time. Jamie has never pedaled so fast in his life. The hospital shrinks to the background, but he doesn’t notice. His body is too full of testosterone and blinds him to any logic. All he can do is pedal.
She sits up on the handlebars and turns a bit. She wraps her left arm around his shoulders and rests her forehead against his.
Ahead of the couple, a sprawling suburban landscape opens itself. The two ride relentlessly toward it.
She doesn’t say anything. Neither does Jamie.
This isn’t the 80’s, is all he can think about, like a record on repeat, trying to out pedal the feeling of heavy dread and suffocating failure.