Steampunk Zombie

The only noise that afternoon during lunch was the sound of silver spoons clinking against porcelain bowls and the occasional sputters as the infected roamed the streets bellow. The windows of the second story building had been blacked out as well leaving the arduous task of illuminating the small environment to a single swinging chandelier above the dinning table. Rebecca found herself uncomfortable seated at the middle of the rectangular table with two very dominate men sitting at either side of it. With every delicate lift of the spoon, she cast her eyes first at her cousin and then at her grandfather. The silence was so overbearing that it overshadowed the muddled taste of the soggy chicken and dumpling porridge.

“Do you think God is punishing us?” the woman dared to mutter. She kept her eyes down to bore into the bland mix of pepper and sludge.

Bernard blinked and when he opened his eyes only they had moved in direction from the man sitting in front of him to the woman sitting on his right. “It was either this or a civil war,” he answered matter-of-factly. “And I’m sure we all know what side you would fight on, boy.”

Adrian glared at his grandfather. His lips were pursed together into a thin line. The minimal lighting added to his scowling look. He let his spoon fall into the porridge before he folded his arms and sat back against the tall wooden chair. He said nothing.

“How is your father?” Bernard went on, casually asking about his son.

Rebecca’s face paled. She found it a sudden struggle to swallow the bite that was in her mouth. “He didn’t make it.”

“And your aunt?”

Rebecca waited for Adrian to respond about the condition of his mother. After an extended moment of silence, Rebecca answered once more. “Both your children are gone.”

A noise squeaked from the throat of the older man as he continued eating. It was not a noise of concern or sadness, but more of apathy and indifference. And yet he still continued to ask more questions.

“Jake? Elizabeth? Russell? All gone as well, I presume.”

“Yes, Pap.”

Rebecca put her spoon down, as well, her appetite suddenly leaving her. Bernard was the only one to finish his serving, having delicately wiped the corners of his lips once his bowl was scraped clean. The legs of his chair screeched as he pushed from the table. He began putting the dirty dishes into the sink. He impelled the brass pump until a small stream of water began to fall. He cleaned his hands with a ratted rag before facing his grandchildren.

“You might want to wash up before you leave. I’ll bring you some clean clothes. If you leave within the hour, you should be able to make it out of Cahawba before the storm hits,” he stated.

Without another word, he exited through a side door next to the small ice box. Bernard lived in the small two-room second-story above his shop. Through the double doors was the kitchen and dining room combination. Straight ahead was the dark wood rectangular table, complete with four tall-back chairs. To the right were the counter, sink, ice box, and stove. Along the left wall were a long hope chest, rocking chair, and half-empty bookshelf. At the far end opposite of the doors was a couch, but it was so full of casings, grips, and gears for weapons that there was no possible room to sit down.

Adrian was the first to move. He walked over to the sink where he had to push aside a few dirty dishes. He unbuttoned his vest, cautious of the stopwatch and dagger inside. He draped the vest and his shirt over the back of a chair. He let the cool water dampen the rag before he brought it over his chest and arms. The white fabric quickly turned a muddy color as it picked up particles of dust and dry blood that had been splattered across Adrian’s neck and arms as he had fought his was through a forest of infected beings. His body glistened from the water as he rung the rag out under the faucet. He held it out towards his cousin.

Rebecca’s face was forlorn. Her eyes were no longer bright and sparkling with mischief. Her snarky remarks had been reduced to sentimental statements. She continued to stare down at the half-eaten bowl of chicken and dumpling porridge.

“Hey,” Adrian murmured. He walked over to the dejected woman. He bent his knees so that he could look up at her bowed face. He pushed a curl behind her ear before letting his long fingers rest behind her neck. He brought her face towards his. “You’re going to be okay. It’s day three and you’re still alive.”

Rebecca closed her eyes and their foreheads remained pressed together. A small smile escaped her lips. “I’m proud of you,” she breathed. “You’re handling his comments very well.”

Adrian’s knees cracked as he stood. He helped Rebecca from the chair. The woman took the rag and began wiping down her own dirtied skin. Adrian leaned against the wall by the ice box with folded arms.

“I’ve already killed him about nineteen times in my head,” he admitted.

Rebecca’s mouth dropped. “Adrian!” she scolded. “That’s horrible. He is the only family we have left.”

“I’d be okay if he wasn’t,” the young man huffed.

The small door opened to reveal Bernard with an armful of clothes. He dropped the pile onto the table. “I’m not sure if any of it will fit but it’s all I got,” he said before walking back into what Adrian assumed was the man’s bedroom. He shut the door behind him.

The two cousins began shuffling through the piles of clothing. Both stripped down to accommodate the new attire. Adrian slipped on a brown pair of frontier canvas pants and a red cavalry bib shirt. He kept the pants up with black y-back braces and finished with a black silk neckerchief. Rebecca followed suit by putting on black campaigner leggings and brown tall suede buckle boots. Her top was a beige bodice with black leather buckle straps. As she refastened the weathered leather bracelet around her wrist, she noticed an aged picture resting on the bookshelf.

The picture was small, about three inches by two inches. It was covered in a light layer of dust. There was a small yellow fading present. It was of a woman. She looked happy. She was wearing a Lucille Walking Suit with full bell sleeves and yards of delicate lace with a ruched jacket. She was standing next to a rose bush; her plump lips stretched into a wide and contagious smile.

“That’s your grandmother,” Bernard’s voice made the woman jump a bit. “About a month before she passed.”

“She’s beautiful,” Rebecca said as she placed the picture back.

“You look a lot like her,” the man stated. “You have her hazel eyes and obnoxiously chipper personality.”

Rebecca laughed a little. “I would have thought a sour man like you would have been with a bitter old woman.”

“My happiness lived and died with her. My spirit rots every goddamn day,” Bernard sighed. “I wanted to give you one more thing. It don’t got a name and it’s unlike anything I’m sure either of you has ever used before.”

Rebecca moved from the bookshelf so that she was standing beside her cousin at the end of the table. Both were staring down at the weapon in their grandfather’s hand. It was small with a body very similar to a Derringer. The barrel was unusual, with a bulbous middle and narrowed point. There was a glass cylinder up top that glowed with some bioluminescent liquid inside.

“It’s the first of its kind, a pistol triggered by electricity that annihilates its target not with bullets but with a surge of energy,” Bernard exclaimed with wide eyes. “The valve-fed chamber sends out a continuous zap of energy towards a mass of targets. Solid matter is transformed into a gaseous state of odorless vapor. Aim this at a horde of those motherfuckers and it could take out a dozen of them, give or take depending on your range.”

Adrian and Rebecca gazed at the weapon with dumfounded expressions. Adrian found himself almost without air. “Are…are you serious?” he breathed. “With something like that, you could take out an entire city.”

“Not necessarily,” sighed the old man. “Unfortunately, it ain’t no hooker, so once you use it you can’t use it again. After all of the built up electricity is gone from inside, it’s done.”

“How do you build up the energy?” Adrian wondered.

“This back gear here. You wind it up like a watch. It builds up friction inside the tube, which propels the energy. I haven’t found a way to get it to last longer than two times,” Bernard explained.

“That’s fine. We’ll take it!” Adrian exclaimed.

Bernard let the pistol go from his hands. He watched his grandson ogle it before he crossed the room towards the double doors. He walked through them without another word. His footsteps echoed across each stair that he walked down. Rebecca and Adrian followed suit until the three of them were standing by the entrance doors. Bernard stood with his ear pressed to the window. They remained still for a while.

“I don’t hear nothing, so you should be good,” the old man said.

Rebecca threw herself into his puffed chest. She wrapped her arms around him. With his left hand, Bernard lightly caressed the woman’s back while his right held onto the dimly lit lantern.

“You should come with us, Pap,” Rebecca pleaded.

Bernard pursed his lips. “I’m fine right here, my dear.”

Rebecca eyes filled up with tears that threatened to spill over her thick lashes. “Please, Pap,” she whispered. “I would feel better if you were with us.”

“I’ll tell you what, kiddo. Once your cousin gets this foolish idea out of his head of going to Savannah, you swing back around here and I’ll make sure to have a weapon made just for you that contains enough energy to take out an entire city,” the old man swore.

“Promise?” Rebecca asked with a cracking voice.

“I promise.”

Rebecca went to hug her grandfather again. This time Bernard looked over her shoulder and into the dark eyes of his grandson. “You take care of her, boy.”

“I will,” nodded Adrian.

Rebecca let her grandfather go as Adrian began to open the door. Bernard winced at the beam of sudden light that came pouring into the room. Adrian stepped out first. He scanned the road. After spotting no movement, he grabbed Rebecca by the shoulder and puller her out. They heard a rough clicking behind them as their grandfather locked the door.

Rebecca put her fingers to her lips and whistled. The noise seemed to get lost in the wind. Adrian adjusted the strap on his shoulder that held the Rock Launcher up. He took a firm hold of Rebecca’s hand and pulled her out from under the awning.

“Come on,” he urged. “They couldn’t have gone far.”

At first the town seemed as empty as it had when the two had first entered it, but after stepping down Chestnut Street, the pair realized that leaving would not be as easy as entering had been. Several yards in front of them stood a group of about two-dozen infected beings huddled together as though they were cold. Their bodies seemed to pulsate in unison. Their skin was graying, boils and burns scattered across the patches of skin that remained on their brittle bones.

One began to lift her head as best she could, but with a snapped neck it was rather hard to do. Her head was bowed, a vertebrae protruding from the skin just below her skull. Her hair had once been blonde but was now layered in thick chunks of soot. Her eyes were the only gold part about her. The right side of her lip looked town off as to reveal a jaw missing half of its teeth. She turned her head almost to the point that it had made a one-eighty turn. She spied the two living humans and screamed.

“Call the horses,” rushed Adrian as the cousins began taking small steps backwards.

Rebecca whistled once more, but the horses didn’t come. The distance between Adrian and Rebecca and the horde seemed to dissipate. To their left, a smaller group appeared; and when they turned to race back in the direction that they had come they saw that that, too, was now blocked by a group of the infected.

The woman put her fingers back to her lips, blowing in one last desperate attempt. A neigh answered in the distance. Rebecca watched as Gizmo came charging past the smaller group. Adrian’s brown thoroughbred was cantering behind. Rebecca pulled herself into the saddle with Adrian quickly doing the same. The three groups of creatures were beginning to blend together to create one massive horde. Adrian kept pulling on the reigns on the skittish animal that he was on.

“How well do you know that maze?” he asked, peering back at the cedar tree maze of Colonel C. C. Pegues’ manor.

“I’d rather take my chances with the maze than try to get past these things out here,” the woman responded.

“Good enough for me,” nodded Adrian.

He dug his heels into the sides of his horse, ushering the animal into the narrow opening of the tall wooded maze. Rebecca urged Gizmo forward, taking the lead through the winding twists and turns of the trees whose limbs reached out like skeletal arms. The ground was made of fallen leaves and trampled yellowed grass. A few clumps of dirt were scattered about. The paths were wide enough to accommodate two or three individuals walking side-by-side, but on horseback the cousins found themselves being constantly struck by drooping tree limbs.

“It’s a dead end,” Rebecca said after making an abrupt left.

She turned Gizmo around and raced past Adrian. They retraced their steps, making a right after their left had been wrong. They went straight at another crossroad, and when that, too, led to a dead end, Rebecca let out a frustrated growl.

“How long has it been since you were here?” cried Adrian.

“I was thirteen! It’s been about eleven years!” Rebecca yelled back.

A low growl emitted from the path adjacent to where they stood. Pairs of arms pushed through the wall of trees. Gizmo bucked, letting out a high-pitch neigh. When his hooves hit the path hard, Rebecca took off. Adrian followed her. The turn they made then took them into the heart of the maze where a white battered bench sat in a wide opening. There were six paths they could choose from. Rebecca let out an exasperated sigh.

One by one, the infected began to pour from two of the openings. Those with eyes let them grow wide as they threw their heads back. They reached out, their arms stretching closer and closer to where Adrian and Rebecca waited in the center.

“Rebecca, focus,” ordered Adrian. “When you were here, which pathway got you out?”

Rebecca didn’t want to admit to her older cousin that when she was here she had taken a break to make out on the bench with the boy she had come with and so had not paid all the much attention to which direction they had gone afterwards. His name was Charles Hough. He had been her first love. A stocky boy of exceptional height. He had taken everything from her but for that brief moment as a child he had given her the world.

“My heart,” she murmured. “Is on the left side of my chest. And when you sit on the bench, you take the closest path to your heart and you will find the way out.”

Rebecca’s memory seemed to put her into a trance-like state. Adrian grabbed the reigns of her horse and took off down the path directly to the right of the bench. It was narrow, each cedar tree seeming to stand closer and closer to the next. They came to a small opening with a path directly ahead and one on each side.

“Please tell me the way out is not straight,” Adrian muttered.

A smaller group of the infected stood in the opening about ten yards ahead of them. The paths on either side of them were not the ways out. While the one on the left was an obvious dead end, the one on the right wound for several more yards before splitting once more. The only way out was ahead of them.

Adrian looked back to see the other way out being closed in by the dozens of creatures that had followed them in. By now, the cousins had awakened the attention of the thirteen that stood barricading the exit. They hissed and roared, black spittle flying from their teeth as they began to trudge forward.

“Adrian…” whimpered Rebecca. Her big hazel eyes were set on the horde closing in behind the rump of her horse.

Adrian pulled the small electric pistol from the holster hanging off his belt. He wound the protruding brass gear that stuck out from the back. He watched the small lines of electricity inside the vile start to glow and crack like tiny bolts of lightening. Once it began to sound like the charge that came from a camera, he pointed it ahead of them and pulled the trigger.

The powerful force was almost enough to knock Adrian from off his horse had his boots not been tucked into his stirrups. A long, burning ray burst from the narrow opening of the barrel. It struck the first being, illuminating its body with a white hot flash. It’s screams turned to gargles until its entire body blew to pieces. The ray extended to the nearest creature and then the next. The beam scouted each creature out until nine out of the thirteen had imploded. The ray dulled until it vanished with no more energy left to propel it.

“Come on!” spat Adrian.

He snapped the reigns of his horse until the animal charged forward. The remaining creatures tried to grab at the cousins’ legs as they passed, but their reflexes were too slow. The exit of the maze led to a field. Just beyond that field was a dirt road. Adrian and Rebecca continued to run until they felt that enough distance had been put between themselves and the dead inhabitants of old Cahawba.

Adrian waited as Rebecca stared back. A flash of lightening lit up the gray sky in the distance. A drop of rain fell onto Adrian’s shoulder. He looked up at the sky, and then turned back to the quiet woman. He knew what she was thinking.

“If I had to bet all of my money on only one person who could survive this mess, it would be Pap,” Adrian stated.

Rebecca looked at him with a sad smile. “I know.”