Peltham Park: A Zombie Short Story by Richard Denoncourt

Author:Richard Denoncourt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horror, adventure, action, zombies, scary, survival, undead, postapocalyptic, night of the living dead

If you had looked through a crack in the boards covering the windows, you would have seen two figures sitting on the floor, dressed in black, one in the arms of the other.

Janine explained that she hadn’t seen a man in four years, not since her father walked out of the house to find supplies and never came back. She’d been taking care of her family ever since, going on runs on her bicycle, pedaling as fast as she could to avoid the infected, practicing with her father’s handgun and compound bow in case she had to shoot one of them.

Once in a while she looks back at me. “Are you comfortable?” she says.

“Yeah. Are you?”

She nods. “Just a little bit longer, OK?”

“Sure. One more minute.”

Then our time is up and she pulls away from me.

“Your dad is sick,” she says. “You should go to him.”

We get up and she brushes herself off.

“He’s an alcoholic,” I say.

“What?”

“He drinks. It’s the first thing he looks for when we go out for supplies. He doesn’t even hide it anymore. My mom used to take pills and they’re the reason she’s dead.”

“What are you saying, Kip?”

She’s looking at me with suspicion now, like she expects me to come out with a declaration of my own addiction.

“I’m saying that they gave in. They lost. My dad was drunk when he fell off that ladder, and now here I am, risking my life for him. And he never stopped me. He never once tried to stop me.”

There are tears in my eyes. Janine comes up to me and wipes one off my cheek.

“Kip, this isn’t the time. You need to get back.”

“Do I?”

I gaze into her eyes. This is what love is. I’ve fallen in love with a girl I’ve only known for an hour.

“What are you going to do?” she says.

I pause before I speak, and during that pause, a vision plays out in my mind. I imagine myself and my father standing on a beach, looking out at the ocean. It’s a gray, windy day, and we’re just standing there like two friends on their lunch break, perfectly calm, in no hurry whatsoever.

“What’s her name?” my father asks.

“Her name’s Janine.”

“Are you going to marry her?”

“Yes. I’ll find a way.”

“Good.” My father lets out a sigh of relief. “I’m proud of you, Kip. Very proud.”

Tears are streaming down my face now. Janine embraces me. I should go back to my father, fulfill my responsibility—but what if he’s already dead? Deep down I know that he’s been dead for a while.

“I know where we can find a bicycle chain,” I tell her, and I do, too. I passed a bike on the way over, chained up outside the bank across the street.

“Are you sure?”

I take her hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t go back.”

Weapons in hand, we make our way through the door and into the darkened hallway. I know I’ll feel the full brunt of this pain later; the guilt that could destroy me.

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