was dangerous.

  Robert R. Best

  68

  Angie slowed and stopped when she saw an open door up

  ahead, about halfway to Bobby's apartment. She looked back at the

  others, nodding silently at the door. Park nodded back.

  "Two left," he whispered, readying the rifle.

  Angie nodded and turned back. She motioned for them to move

  forward, slowly.

  They crept up the hall until they were outside the open door.

  A corpse, an old woman with white hair stained red with blood,

  was on the floor crouching over an old man. The old man's head faced

  the hallway. The old woman's head was down, buried in the man's

  stomach. She pulled up slowly, pulling out what looked like a liver

  with her teeth. She grabbed hold of the liver and bit free a hunk of it,

  slowly and feebly. She moaned ecstatically as she chewed. She hadn't

  noticed them.

  Angie turned slowly to Park. He had the gun trained on the

  woman, but was relaxing as though realizing they weren't seen. Angie

  motioned for the rest to keep moving. Park and the kids moved past

  her. Angie took one last look at the old woman gnawing at the liver.

  Her wrinkled face was caked with dried blood, flecks of it falling to the

  floor as she worked her jaw up and down.

  Angie moved on.

  The rest of the hallway was quiet and all doors were shut. They

  crept up to the last door on the right. Bobby's apartment. Angie looked

  back down the hallway, making sure nothing was nearby. There was

  nothing she could see.

  Slowly, she moved her hand up the door and gently knocked.

  The door creaked and moved inward. Angie blinked at it. The

  door was unlocked. Unlocked and open.

  "Shit," whispered Park, behind her.

  "Yeah," she whispered back. "Shit, indeed." She looked back to

  the others, put a finger to her lips, and pushed the door inward.

  Angie stepped inside first. Immediately inside the door was a

  small foyer, branching off in two directions. To the left was the living

  room. To the right was the kitchen. It seemed like every light in the

  apartment was on.

  "Bobby?" she whispered, looking around.

  Dalton shuffled in the hallway behind her. Angie held up a

  hand, indicating for everyone to be quiet, and leaned toward the living

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  room. "Bobby?" she repeated, low and hoarse. She strained to listen.

  Nothing.

  She walked farther into the foyer, making room for the others to

  file in behind her. Dalton first, then Maylee, then Park. Park shut the

  door behind them, slowly and quietly.

  A noise came from the kitchen. A shuffle followed by a crunch.

  Dalton gasped. Maylee grabbed his shoulder. "Shh!"

  "I got it," whispered Park. He lifted the gun over the kids' heads

  and moved toward the kitchen. Angie stepped toward the living room

  and the kids followed her.

  The living room was cluttered, strewn with clothes and empty

  food containers. Angie frowned at them. Bobby was always a slob. The

  far side of the living room connected with the kitchen and a separate

  hallway led to the bedroom and bathroom. Angie heard Park moving in

  the kitchen.

  "Park?" she whispered.

  Park walked in from the kitchen, holding a bag of corn chips.

  "These fell off the counter."

  Angie smirked. "Figures."

  A moan came from behind her. Angie spun to see Bobby

  coming toward her. His eyes were yellow and blood ran down one side

  of his face.

  Dalton screamed.

  Park leveled the gun at Bobby. "That's two."

  "No!" yelled Angie, stepping back from Bobby and whipping

  her head at Park. "It's just the one. Don't waste the shot."

  "Uncle Bobby!" yelled Dalton.

  "Shut up!" yelled Maylee.

  Uncle Bobby limped forward, one of his legs broken and bent

  beyond human use. His fingers were caked with something dark. He

  clutched at Angie but she kept backing away from him.

  "Kids," she said. "Get into the hallway. The bedroom or

  something. Shut the door."

  "Mom!" said Maylee.

  "Uncle Bobby!" said Dalton, tears coming.

  "Maylee!" snapped Angie. She glared at Maylee, then nodded

  to Dalton.

  Robert R. Best

  70

  Maylee looked over at Dalton. Dalton was crying and his lip

  was starting to quiver.

  "Get to the bedroom!" Angie repeated. "Park and I will handle

  this."

  Maylee took another look at Uncle Bobby, then reached down

  to grab Dalton's hand.

  "Uncle Bobby," said Dalton, his voice breaking.

  "I know," said Maylee. "I know. Come on. Let's check out the

  bedroom." She led him out of the room and down the hall. Angie heard

  the bedroom door shut.

  "You think the noise'll bring any more?" said Park. He stepped

  forward and shoved the corpse of Uncle Bobby backward, away from

  Angie.

  "I don't know," said Angie. "Let's hope not. Let's just deal with

  him for now."

  Bobby moaned and came toward her again. Angie stepped

  back, toward the kitchen.

  "Bobby," she said as she walked backward, "I know we didn't

  get along before. Truth is, we probably wouldn't be getting along now

  anyway. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to bash your head open and I

  guess I'm a little sorry for that."

  "Seriously?" said Park, following behind Bobby as he and

  Angie stumbled into the kitchen. The counters were cluttered with food

  and dirty dishes.

  "Well, he is family," said Angie, looking around for a weapon.

  A heavy pan, a knife, anything. All she found were snack foods and

  dishes. Bobby'd never cooked a thing in his life, so far as Angie knew.

  "There's nothing to hit him with. Damn it Bobby, why don't you have

  anything heavy?"

  Bobby gurgled and stumbled toward her, clutching his crusty

  fingers at nothing.

  "You sure I shouldn't just shoot him?" said Park, shaking the

  rifle in his hand as he followed behind Bobby.

  "No," said Angie. She backed toward the foyer. "I've got an

  idea."

  * * *

  Ashton Memorial

  71

  Maylee led Dalton inside Uncle Bobby's bedroom and shut the

  door. Dalton let go of her hand and started pacing. Tears glistened from

  his cheeks. "Uncle Bobby Uncle Bobby Uncle Bobby..."

  "I know, Dalton, I know," said Maylee. She set her bat in the

  corner and walked over to grab Dalton's shoulders. She eased him to a

  sitting position on the bed. He gulped and looked up at her.

  This is the first time, she thought. The first time he's seen one of

  those things that used to be someone he was really close to. Then she

  realized it was the first time for her, too. With the realization came

  flashes of visits to Uncle Bobby. Mom didn't like him, so visits to him

  had been rare. And there was a lot to do in Ashton. They'd had fun with

  Uncle Bobby.

  Maylee stopped herself, pushing the thoughts down. She was

  being strong. She was being strong for Dalton.

  "Uncle Bobby," said Dalton.

  "I know," said Maylee, hugging him.

  Dalton cried into her shoulder for a few moments. His sobbing

  slowed. Maylee's own eyes stung but she kept the tears from coming

  any further. She swallowed them.

  Dalton settled down and Maylee pulled back. She looked down

  at him. "You gonna be okay?"

  He nodded and sniffed.

  Maylee stepped away from the bed, wiping her own eyes. She

  looked around the room. It was cluttered, with clothes on the floor. The

  bed was unmade. Dresser drawers sat half open. Maylee noticed a bra

  hanging from one dresser handle. She stepped over and picked it up.

  She showed the bra to Dalton, raising an eyebrow in question.

  Dalton shrugged and coughed. "Maybe Uncle Bobby has a

  girlfriend." He looked down. "Had."

  Maylee nodded and put the bra back where she'd found it. She

  walked past the bed, toward a large open closet set into the far wall. It

  was dark inside. She leaned in and found the chain for an overhead

  light. She pulled it and the closet lit up.

  A woman stood at the back of the closet, facing the wall. She

  was making a sobbing noise.

  "Dalton," whispered Maylee. "Stay there."

  She stepped into the closet, toward the sobbing woman.

  Robert R. Best

  72

  "Ma'am?" she said.

  "What is it, Maylee?" said Dalton. Maylee heard him climb

  from the bed and come up behind her.

  "Stay back, Dalton," said Maylee, taking another step inside.

  "Ma'am?"

  The woman showed no sign of hearing Maylee. Her back and

  shoulders moved up and down. Low sobs echoed in the closet.

  "Ma'am," said Maylee. "Are you okay?" She reached out and

  touched the woman's shoulder.

  The woman stopped sobbing and turned. Maylee let go. The

  woman's face was gray and covered in blood. She had a hand in her

  mouth. It looked like it had been torn from its original owners arm.

  She pulled the hand free, a tendon stringing from a finger to her mouth.

  She pulled the tendon free and sloppily sucked it into her mouth. She

  made a grunting sound as she chewed. The sound was like sobbing.

  Maylee jumped back, colliding with Dalton. They both fell

  over, Maylee on top and Dalton pinned underneath her. The woman

  groaned and fell forward toward Maylee. Maylee put up her hands,

  hoping to block.

  The woman ground her teeth together and bit at Maylee.

  Maylee had one palm pressed against the woman's forehead. It was the

  only thing keeping the woman's teeth from sinking into Maylee's skin.

  "Get off me, Maylee!" said Dalton, muffled underneath her.

  "Kinda busy right now, thanks," said Maylee. She pushed up as

  hard as she could, but the woman was bigger than her. Maylee was only

  able to push her up an inch or so. Not enough to escape.

  "Maylee!" yelled Dalton, squirming underneath her.

  "One second!" said Maylee. She used the inch of space her

  pushing had made to bend her knee up. She folded her leg against

  herself, knee and shin against the woman's chest. The woman bit and

  hissed, clutching at Maylee's clothes.

  Maylee grunted with effort and repeated the motion with her

  other leg. She now had both knees against the woman's chest and her

  hand against the woman's forehead. Dalton writhed beneath her, trying

  to get free.

  "Hope this works," Maylee muttered to herself. She let go of

  the woman's forehead and extended her legs. She managed to unfold

  them an inch or two. The woman balanced on top of them, biting at the

  Ashton Memorial

  73

  air and moaning.

  Maylee looked the woman in the yellow eye. "Thank god

  you're an idiot," she said. She put her palms flat against the floor

  beneath her and pushed herself up off of Dalton. The strain on her

  muscles was almost unbearable. For the first time in her life, Maylee

  was glad for gym class.

  "Move!" she yelled to Dalton.

  Dalton squeezed himself out from under her. Maylee's arms

  shook, then gave just as Dalton was free. She fell to the floor, pain

  shooting across the small of her back as she connected. The woman

  rocked on her knees, tipping toward her. Maylee held up her hands,

  catching the woman's forehead and blocking her. Her arms ached from

  her previous effort, and the woman gained ground every second. The

  woman's teeth drew near.

  "Get off my sister!" Dalton yelled from somewhere behind

  Maylee's head. Dalton's foot flew into view, cracking the woman across

  the temple. The woman groaned and fell to one side, off of Maylee. She

  collided with the edge of the closet.

  Maylee scrambled to her feet and backed away as quickly as

  she could without falling over. The woman groaned and stood. Maylee

  and Dalton panted at the woman as she slowly moved her head, looking

  at one, then the other of them.

  "We need Mom," said Dalton.

  "Nah," said Maylee, eyeing her bat propped against the wall. "I

  got this one."

  They panted and stared at the corpse a moment longer. Maylee

  looked to her bat, then back at the corpse.

  She dove toward the bat. The corpse responded to the sudden

  movement with a loud groan. She lunged forward, reaching for Maylee.

  "Mom!" screamed Dalton. He ran to the door and threw it open.

  "Dalton wait!" yelled Maylee as she grabbed her bat and turned

  to face the woman.

  "Mom!" Dalton repeated, running out into the hallway.

  "Dammit," said Maylee, turning to follow.

  * * *

  Robert R. Best

  74

  Angie backed out of the kitchen and into the foyer. The corpse

  of Uncle Bobby, groaning and clawing at nothing, followed her. Park

  brought up the rear, holding the rifle but not using it.

  "So," said Park from behind Bobby. "This plan of yours."

  "Yeah?" said Angie.

  "Does it involve leading him around in a circle until he falls

  apart?"

  "Nope," said Angie, turning a corner and backing into the

  living room. She glanced quickly behind her, seeing a large set of

  vertical blinds. Behind that, she knew, was a sliding glass door. And

  behind that was a deck overlooking the parking lot. "It involves that."

  She ran to the vertical blinds and tugged down on the hanging

  chain nearby. The blinds opened with a loud clacking sound. She heard

  Uncle Bobby moaning behind her, getting closer. She unlocked the

  sliding door and pulled it open. Fall air blew in from the parking lot.

  She spun in time to see Bobby drawing near to her. She stepped

  backward onto the deck. It creaked slightly under her weight. Cheap

  piece of crap, she thought.

  Bobby staggered and lurched after her, onto the deck. "That's

  right Bobby, come on," she said. She could see Park in the living room,

  stepping over to follow.

  "Mom!" yelled Dalton. He ran screaming from the hallway and

  out onto the deck. Angie could tell by his eyes he didn't really see

  where he was going.

  "Dalton, look out!" yelled Angie.

  Dalton blinked when he saw Bobby. He tried to stop but was

  too late. With an "oof" sound, he collided with Bobby's back. Bobby

  moaned and fell forward, onto Angie.

  Angie tipped over backward, her upper back slamming into the

  railing of the deck. She pushed back on Bobby's shoulders. He bit

  toward her arms and face, close but not connecting. Thick drool hung

  from his lips, inching toward her.

  "Dalton!" yelled Maylee, running from the hallway and onto

  the deck. She bumped into Dalton and they both stumbled onto the

  deck. The deck creaked, louder than before.

  "Get off my mom!" yelled Dalton. Angie heard smacking

  sounds and Bobby's body shook with each smack. Angie guessed it was

  Dalton hitting Bobby. The railing behind her back creaked and

  Ashton Memorial

  75

  groaned.

  "Dalton," she screamed, struggling with Bobby. "Stop hitting!"

  Dalton screamed and gave Bobby a hard shove. Bobby's body

  slammed against her. The railing beneath her upper back gave a loud

  creak, then gave way.

  Angie fell back onto the deck. Pain shot down her spine as it

  connected with the wood. The back of her neck hit the edge of the

  broken railing. The pain made her grit her teeth.

  Bobby fell with her, biting and clawing. He landed on top of

  her. Angie kicked her legs and pushed back at him. He was close.

  "Mom!" screamed Dalton.

  "That's two," said Park, leveling the gun at Bobby's head. He

  moved the barrel back and forth, trying to get a clear shot.

  "Not so close to my head," yelled Angie, struggling with

  Bobby.

  "Figured you might say that," said Park. He slung the rifle over

  his shoulder and stepped forward. He brought up one of his hunting

  boots and kicked Bobby's rear. Bobby slid forward, past Angie's head

  and off the deck. Angie heard him slam against the truck below.

  Angie stood, loose bits of wood falling from the deck beneath

  her. The wood cracked against the truck. She and Park looked over the

  edge. The truck's front was worse than before. Bobby had landed in the

  center of the hood, buckling it. Bobby rocked back and forth in the

  indentation he had made. Soon he would stand up, Angie knew, but the