I took a deep breath, and before I could engage my legs into moving, I heard Gary down at the bottom of the stairs.
“Wait, brother. I’ll come with you,” he said, taking the stairs two at a time.
I thanked him. This might singularly be the most difficult thing my brother had done to date and he was doing it for me.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked. “I said I’d come; I didn’t say I’d lead.”
I snorted, it was a little undignified, but he let it lapse. I could see the shadow play of someone moving in the gap between the door and the floor. Back and forth it moved rhythmically, at least it wasn’t banging up against the door, but we’d learn why in a few more seconds.
I slowly turned the doorknob. Gary’s rifle barrel was over my shoulder. At least, it was my right shoulder so I wouldn’t get hot brass in the face. As I pushed the door in, we both took a step backwards, weapons at the ready. We could hear groaning and moaning and the stink was excruciating, but there was no onward rush of zombies. The door stopped its inward movement about halfway through its cycle.
“I thought you were like super strong now?” Gary asked.
“You’re really giving me shit right now?”
He pushed his rifle past my head so that the barrel could be used to open the door the rest of the way.
Mrs. Dead Husband was straining against bonds Mr. Dead Husband must have put in place before he opted out. She was tied to the foot of her bed, which looked to be made of some stout oak. At least, we knew why she wasn’t eating us yet. Her hands were almost touching behind her back, she was pulling so tight on her bindings.
“Are those pantyhose tied to her?” Gary asked. “Didn’t know the things were so strong.”
Her head, which had been resting on her chest as she swayed back and forth, popped up much like her infant’s had. Her eyes almost had an intelligence to them. They looked predatory, not the mindless glaze of the undead. Her mouth gnashed in anguish at a food that was so close; the similarities to her baby were striking.
And then I crossed the bridge into insanity or at least my world had.
“Do me a wrong, you bringer of evil.”
Gary’s rifle erupted, but still the zombie’s words echoed in my head even as she dropped to the ground, dead.
“Did you hear that, Gary?” I fairly cried.
“Don’t know how I would have missed it. Even a .22 is pretty loud in a small room like this,” Gary shouted over the ringing in both of our ears.
“Not the shot, the zombie.”
“What about it?” Gary asked.
“She spoke.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“She did, as clear as you and I are talking.”
“Mike, I wouldn’t screw with you on this. She said nothing and then I blew her head off. What do you think she said?”
My thoughts were in a tailspin. I’ve always felt that I was a pace or two closer to the edge than most, but at least, I could usually recognize the precipice and step back at the appropriate time. Seems like I misjudged and slipped completely over. “She…I mean it said something like ‘Do wrong, you bringer of evil.’”
Gary had to step out of the room apparently to gather enough clean air to fuel his laughter.
“What the fuck is so funny!?” I yelled, following him out.
“You’re telling me that zombie was quoting a Black Sabbath tune? I find that to be funny as hell.”
“What?”
“That line, ‘Sing me a song you’re a singer. Do me a wrong, you’re a bringer of evil.’ That’s from Black Sabbath, I mean not the Ozzy-led band, but the Ronnie James Dio version. Still an awesome song though.”
“Gary, she spoke to me,” I said. Gary looked like he was about to brush me off. “So did the baby.” That got his attention.
“Part of the new and improved Mike?” he asked.
“I’ve got to believe when those psychics talked about communing with the dead, this wasn’t what they were talking about.”
“No wonder why Eliza is so pissed all the time,” Gary said, reflecting.
“That doesn’t really help.”
Gary gathered himself and walked back into the room. “I know, let’s see if this little trip was worth it.” Gary gave a wide berth to Mrs. Dead Husband and went into the huge walk-in closet. “There’s a safe!” Gary said, sticking his head back out.
“Great, maybe we’ll see who he willed his gold watch to,” I said, looking at the zombie’s feet, which were still twitching. It was creeping the hell out of me, but at least she wasn’t wishing she had some Dr. Scholl’s or something.
“Gun safe, Mike.” Gary said as if I were Gary Busey. Does that need any further explanation?
“I know, brother, I’m looking at it too.”
BT and Paul had come up the stairs after hearing the rifle shot.
“What’s going on?” BT asked, stepping past the dead zombie and further into the room.