Revenants Read online

  The latter moved lazily through the frenzy, undeterred by the screams; instead, they appeared to be drawn toward them. It was easy to tell the dead apart from the others; their skin was sallow, their eyes covered by a filmy substance resembling egg whites. Mouths moving, teeth gnashing. I watched in silence as two of them descended on a woman trying to get into her car.

  I closed my eyes after the first bite.

  I couldn't watch the rest.

  Seconds later, Daniel turned left onto Baron Street, and the vicious attack was behind us, only to be replaced by another, then yet another, as we continued driving toward our home. I didn't fully comprehend the gravity of the situation just then, but I knew one thing...the dead had risen in Everly.

  Chapter Two

  Chloe

  Daniel and I were born and raised in Everly, North Carolina; a small town in Branson County, 40 miles west of Charlotte. It's what people from the sticks would call the big city, and what people from the big city would call the sticks. The truth is, Everly is only slightly better than the actual sticks, with a modest population of 4,000 people occupying its mostly rural area. The historic uptown district dates back to 1841 and there are no shortage of bronze plaques scattered around Main Street celebrating this longevity. A few years ago, the county commission offered tax incentives to small business owners hoping to encourage them to bring their service or product to Everly. Their efforts resulted in a quaint court square containing a small boutique, a vintage general store, Hannah’s Cafe, and a coffee shop. Their primary goal was to grow the population, but they would have been just as happy to keep the existing population from leaving Everly at the first opportunity.

  There is one stoplight in Everly...two if you count the one at the edge of town, just before the highway bleeds onto the interstate. The young people who do come back to Everly after college use that corridor to commute to Charlotte for work....although (sorry, commissioners) most young adults choose to leave Everly forever once they graduate college.

  Greener pastures, and all that.

  Daniel and I almost escaped to those greener pastures.

  We both attended a state university, three hours north of Everly. Daniel, older by three years, graduated first with a degree in accounting, then promptly accepted a job as a junior accounting associate at the CPA firm he interned at during his senior year. A year later, he sat for his first CPA exam. It didn't take long for him to become a full-fledged Certified Public Accountant. Six months after that huge accomplishment in Daniel's life...you know, the one my parents couldn't stop gushing over...I graduated with a bachelor's degree in business administration.

  I felt so accomplished.

  My original plan was to stay near the university, like Daniel, and reap the rewards of the big city with its big city perks, like jobs that pay more than $20,000 a year. But, I didn't stick to the plan. The month before I graduated, I decided I was too much of a hometown girl to stay away from Everly permanently. I didn't care to graze in greener pastures....I was happy coming home to the one I had always known. Plus, my high school sweetheart, Scott Kirby, was still in Everly working his family farm.

  Long distance relationships are tough, but we persevered. Scott and I dated on and off again the entire four years I was away at college, but as I got closer to graduating, I realized I probably wasn't going to find a guy in the city who had the same down-home roots Scott had. In other words, I wasn't going to stake my chances on getting married and having 2.5 kids on a long-shot. So I settled. I guess I hoped Scott was willing to settle, too.

  Two days after receiving my degree, I moved out of my dorm and back into my old bedroom at my parents' house. It was home sweet home 2.0, with parent-enforced curfews and everything. A week later, I started a job as a bank teller at the Everly Community Bank. It was the only job I could find in town with my newly minted credentials. It might have been the only job in town, period. There's not a lot of turnover in Everly unless someone retires or dies.

  I only intended to live with my parents until Scott and I married. I was fairly certain it wouldn't take long for him to ask me to be his bride. After all, we were a sure thing, right? But Scott's proposal took longer than expected, and one Saturday afternoon, I came home from a beach trip with some girlfriends to find a FOR SALE sign planted firmly in my parents' front yard.

  I still remember that conversation as if it just happened.

  "Dad, what's up with the sign in the front yard?"

  "Sweetie, we didn't want you to find out this way, but the only time the realtor could meet with us was this weekend."

  "Meet for what?"

  Mom and Dad smiled at each other, then dropped the mother of all bombs on me. "We're selling the house, honey. We've signed papers for a small condo in Asheville."

  "Asheville? What about your practice, Mom?"

  "Last I checked, families in Asheville need therapists, too, dear."

  "But...why? It's so random."

  They shrugged then Mom said, "Daniel and you are both adults now. It's time for your dad and I to start a new chapter in our lives as empty nesters."

  "But, you're not empty nesters.....I still live here."

  "We know, honey," Mom said and patted my cheek affectionately. "But now the nest is for sale, so our little birdie needs to learn to fly."

  That was that. End of discussion.

  I know what you're thinking...that was really harsh...and, I guess if your parents are the coddling type, it was pretty harsh, but Daniel and I have overly practical parents, not coddlers. In their opinion, learning to live as an independent, level-headed adult is the epitome of success. I'm pretty sure my mom wrote her dissertation on the dangers of helicopter parenting to become Cecile Parker, PsyD. She specialized in family and marriage counseling, so there was little I could do to argue her logic. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, they had a point....my parents had devoted twenty-two years to raising me....it was their time now.

  Together.

  Without me tagging along.

  I wasn't worried at first. I thought time was on my side. Sure, the housing market was rebounding, but this was Everly...it's not like people were beating a path to relocate here. This theory proved to be grossly incorrect when my parents' house went under contract the next week. Some older couple, originally from Everly, wanted to move back and live out the rest of their days in a quiet town away from the noise of the city. After they signed the sales contract, Mom and Dad took me to dinner to celebrate their good fortune and my impending homelessness.

  My medium-rare steak was especially hard to swallow that night.

  Over the next few weeks, I tried to hint around to Scott that any time would be a great time to pop the question, but he didn't seem to catch on. Or, didn't want to. So, a week before my parents moved to Asheville to start writing that new chapter in their lives, I signed the lease for a small brick house on a quiet street near the edge of town.

  206 Maple Drive.

  It was adorable, and all mine.....and I had absolutely no idea how I was going to afford the place on my small bank teller salary. I got a little irritated each time I thought about my super-tight budget. My parents could more than afford to help me pay for a nicer, larger house, but they absolutely refused because it might interfere with my ongoing development as a young adult. In order to fully mature, I needed to struggle...find my own footing, so to speak.

  On my own dime, not theirs.

  I tried to make the best of it. I endeavored to enjoy my role as an independent adult, and somehow made it work for a little while. Well, kind of. I lived alone for six months, dining on ramen noodles, rice cakes, and a lot of spaghetti. I pinched pennies and wondered why Scott still hadn't asked me to marry him. I laid awake each night after coming back from his house, wondering if he had changed his mind about us, or if I had misunderstood his intentions altogether.

  I started to think I had made a huge mistake coming back to Everly.

  Cue the big brother to the rescue. Dani
el arrived in town just as I was about to lose my lease...bailing me out like he had my entire life. He accepted a decent paying job at the local county administrative building, and moved into the spare bedroom. Our parents disapproved...they didn't believe in helicoptering from any relative...but Daniel played it off as being homesick rather than making sure I didn't end up living at the local homeless shelter. Luckily, I hadn't told Mom or Dad how dire my financial situation was, so they believed his story.

  Or they pretended to, anyway. Maybe denial was the one thing my mom hadn't personally conquered.

  Daniel and I decided we would live together until one of us got married (hint, hint Scott), or until we got tired of living with each other. Luckily we are incredibly close so the living arrangement has worked well so far. It wasn't much - but it was home.

  That's where we're heading now.

  Daniel hasn't taken his eyes off the road since we sped out of the parking lot a few minutes ago. He hasn't noticed what's happening on the sidewalks on either side of the road because he's been focused on dodging all the other cars fleeing Everly's small uptown district, but I have.

  I've been paying attention, and it's terrifying.

  I see people who should be on their way to a proper burial lumbering after other people unlucky enough to find themselves outside when the dead decided to rejoin the living. The once-tidy sidewalks are now painted in varying shades of red as more and more residents of Everly fall victim to whatever is happening.

  I can't bring myself to say zombie attack....not yet. Maybe not ever.

  Traffic begins to bottleneck a mile from Baron Street, on Old Mill Avenue, as more and more drivers become distracted by the macabre scenes playing out in front yards and in the parking lot of the historic yarn mill. Daniel swerves as the truck in front of us runs off the road, over corrects, then slams into a light pole.

  I scream, surprised, and grab the armrest. One of the dead things hears the crash and begins limping toward the truck. I close my eyes tightly, unable to stomach the look of terror on the driver's face as he tries to free himself from the wreckage.

  "Talk to me, Chloe! What's happening?" Daniel says, not taking his eyes off the road.

  "It's bad. Whatever happens, don't stop the car!" I warn, gripping the armrest tighter as he takes another sharp turn.

  "How bad is bad?!"

  I glance out the window. "Well, a corpse just took a bite out of some old lady....so, pretty bad!" I add, nearly hysterical by this point.

  This can't be happening.

  I watch as a man falls to his knees after being attacked by two young women; his blood spills onto the pavement in red ribbons as he tries to close the hole in his throat. A wave of nausea rises and falls within me, and I close my eyes again, trying to settle my stomach. As we get farther from the center of town, the traffic eases, and Daniel speeds up. He turns left onto Laughlin Road, and we enter what we've always called no-man's-land.

  We both relax a little.

  Daniel lets out a deep sigh. "This cannot be happening," he says, echoing my disbelief. He rubs his hand across his face.

  I'm just as bewildered. I look out the passenger window at the rows of corn to my right, wondering how many times I've driven past this field over the past two years. Probably thousands of times. I never thought I'd be driving past them after seeing the dead walk the streets of Everly.

  "Did you see it? Any of it?" I ask in a whisper, once I trust myself enough to speak.

  "Some. When we first left the cafe. After that, not so much."

  I wrap my arms around my waist. "They were biting them, Daniel. What...why? I mean, what is going on?"

  He glances at me. "I have no idea."

  I shake my head. "But...but, they're dead! How does that even work? How are they up and walking around?! Walking around like they're still alive!" My voice is rising. I can hear it happening, but I can't stop it.

  I'm losing control.

  Daniel reaches over and gives my left leg a firm shake. "Get a hold of yourself, Chloe. I need you to keep a clear head right now. Can you do that for me?"

  I'm shivering, even though I'm not cold. I don't answer him right away, because the truth is, I don't know if I can keep a clear head. I'm freaking out.

  "Take a few deep breaths," Daniel instructs.

  How is he always so level-headed? Even now, when anyone would have a perfectly good excuse to lose it. I take a deep breath like he says. Then another. It settles my nerves, but I'm so terrified and confused, I count the improvement by small degrees.

  "Good. That's good." Daniel puts his hand back on the steering wheel. "I know you're scared, sis. I am too. But we have to stay calm.....see if we can figure this thing out," he adds.

  I release another deep breath and nod. "You're right. I'm sorry. What do we do now?"

  He grips the steering wheel tighter. "Now we go home and turn on the news."

  * * *

  Daniel

  Laughlin Road runs north until it bids farewell to Branson County and waves hello to the larger, richer Holland County. About a tenth of a mile before we hit the county line, I slow the car and take a left into our neighborhood. Maple Drive is roughly a mile long, and it intersects with Dublin Lane, which in turn intersects with Oak Drive. Oak Drive empties back out onto Laughlin Road, just over the county line.

  Our house is the fifth house on the right. It's a simple brick home, surrounded by other simple brick homes; some houses are close together, others are separated by empty lots never developed. The same architect designed every house on Maple Drive, with the end result being a broken line of seemingly identical homes. The only way to tell the houses apart are the varying colors of shutters and siding hastily added just before construction completed. I say hastily, because there appears to be no rhyme or reason to the colors chosen; some make sense, others don't, like the ones with bright orange accents. Luckily, our house is one of the ones blessed with neutral colors.

  I look around the neighborhood for any activity, dead or otherwise, but the neighborhood seems calm and quiet, like it always does.

  "Everything seems normal here," I observe as we pass the first few houses.

  Chloe nods. "For now."

  I look at her quickly, then back at the road. "Maybe it's only happening in town."

  "I don't know. I hope so."

  I turn into the driveway. "Right now, I really wish we had a garage," I say as I pull under the carport.

  Chloe's small blue coupe is parked in its usual spot. I pull up beside it and cut the engine. After another quick glance at the neighboring houses, I open the car door. "Let's get inside quickly, just in case they're around here, too."

  We exit the car as fast as we can, tripping over each other as we rush to the back door. It takes three tries before I get the right key in the door. Chloe is behind me, begging me to work faster. My hands are shaking. I take a deep breath, because I know if I don't get my emotions under control we're as good as dead. I shut my eyes for a moment and breathe out slowly through my nose. I open them and try another key. This time the lock turns.

  "Go, go, go!" Chloe says, urging me to open the door.

  I push open the door and we spill into the kitchen, all arms and legs and labored breathing. Chloe leans against the wall, struggling to catch her breath. I feel lightheaded, but I engage the deadbolt and draw the shade down over the kitchen door before I allow myself to rest. Chloe takes a deep breath and looks at me. "Next time, I'm skipping lunch," she says, then closes her eyes.

  Chapter Three

  Chloe

  I breathe a sigh of relief as the kitchen door closes behind us. My heart is still racing, but I feel better knowing I'm in my own home, locked behind my own steel-lined door. I hope it's strong enough to keep those things out if, or when, they show up. I hope they aren't smart enough to try and break the window.

  Daniel makes a beeline for the living room.

  "Where are you going?" I ask.

  "Turning on the news,"
he says, grabbing the remote. "I want to see if they're reporting anything about this. If not, we have to assume it's just something happening in Everly."

  The television clicks on and a moment later, a news anchors' voice fills the living room.

  "...morning. It's not clear where or how this started, but local authorities are urging Charlotte residents to get to their homes as soon as possible."

  "Thanks, Rachel. We'll check back in with you as updates become available."

  "Thank you, Sarah."

  The camera cuts back to a young, blonde woman sitting behind the Channel 9 news desk. She must be part of the weekend crew, because I don't recognize her. She has a solemn look on her face, and a deep worry crease cuts a visible line through her otherwise smooth forehead. Her hands are folded neatly on top of the desk, but I can see the whites of her knuckles, so I know she's scared. She clears her throat. "For those just joining us, there have been reports of people being attacked throughout the city. Authorities are imploring residents to exercise extreme caution, and to stay indoors, if possible."

  The camera zooms out to reveal a man sitting at the desk beside her. I don't recognize him, either, but he's handsome, dressed in a dark suit, and wearing an equally somber expression. "That's right, Sarah. And we've just received word the Chief of Police will hold a press conference in thirty minutes. But first, let's check with Sheila Ware at City Hall."

  As the screen cuts to the reporter, Daniel turns the volume down and leans back on the couch. "So, it's in Charlotte, too. That's not good," he says, rubbing his hands over his face. Finally, he looks at me and says, "Call Mom and Dad. We need to make sure they're okay."

  I immediately feel guilty for not having already done that. I was so caught up in escaping Hannah’s Cafe earlier, and processing the attacks I witnessed on the way home, that I didn't even think to call our parents.