She decided to leave the axe. The house was silent. Cash would know it was there. If he woke up, he might even take more comfort seeing the handle of the axe near him, than his own big sister.
Char twisted the knob slow ly and opened the door but a fraction. She knew the hinges squeaked. But only at about twenty-five degrees. She also knew the third step from the bottom at the edge of the hallway squeaked. Normally, she’d never remember either thing. Currently, knowing what makes noise, when, and how, could be the difference between survival and becoming dinner for the dead.
Once she squeezed through the doorway, Char moved stealthily down the hall, past the staircase, toward the bathroom. She stopped at the banister, and gave the downstairs a once-over. Nothing looked troubling, the front door was shut. The chain engaged.
She sniffed at the air. Stale. Musty. The house must have been vacant since the virus spread, since the vaccination, meant to stop the H7N9, infected most of the United States. That was how long ago now? A year ago? Almost two?
In the bathroom, Char shut the door. Protocol was broken. She knew it. She engaged the simple twist lock on the center of the knob. The wood door was solid. Old houses were great that way. Hardwood floors, gum wood trim, and when taking shelter from the dead, solid doors. Nice.
If Cash ever went to the bathroom alone, she’d knock him in the head with a Bible and hope some common sense sank in. He was nine though. A kid. Stupid, even. Forget the fact he’s a boy, and boys just don’t think things through. At fourteen, Char knew better.
Usually.
Except this time.
When she finished with the toilet. She depressed the handle. It flushed. The bowl filled, her waste swirled and sank and shot through the plumbing.
Running water.
She closed her eyes, shook her head.
When she opened them, she knew what she’d see. The drawn shower curtain. How long had it been since she’d bathed? Just two days?
It couldn’t hurt. A fast shower. Even if the water was icy cold. The idea of a bar of soap ... wait, wait ... she parted the curtain, and yes, yes, soap, shampoo – conditioner, a razor! A razor!
She had to do it. A fast shower. And Cash could take one too. God knows he smelled raw. She must, too, it was just harder to admit. Easier to blame the stank on him.
She stepped out of her clothing, turned on the faucet and almost cried. Water flowed. But not just cold. Hot, too. She was going to have a hot shower. It felt like Christmas. The smile she wore felt so wide the corners of her mouth already began to ache. The muscles rarely used, were flabby and out of shape. She’d have to try smiling more, just wasn’t much these days’ worth smiling over. She missed living with her dad, her parents being apart, and now this . . . zombies.
While it felt like it was over in moments, Char knew she must have been in the shower for over half an hour. The hot water was barely tepid. If Cash was going to shower, he’d at least need water that wasn’t freezing. Or else she could just imagine him arguing with her about even getting in. And he was going to shower. Icy cold water, or not. The boy needed soap embedded in his skin, if not a flea-bath dip to boot.
She towel dried, pulled her newly scented Rain Forest hair under her nose and breathed it in. She didn’t know if the dead would smell her, the way she smelled them, but she also knew the fresh, clean hair would only last the day. By tomorrow, she’d begin to stink again. And so would Cash.
Char decided she’d put the bathroom supplies into her back-pack. Take the items with them. She wasn’t sure an actual rain forest smelled like this shampoo, but she was sure . . .
She took in a quick breath, lips closed tight and sniffed.
She released her hair, let it fall over her shoulder and turned her head toward the closed bathroom door. She sniffed again.
Her heart beat accelerated.
Dead.
Outside the door? Could be downstairs still. The smell, however, was strong enough to make her think—
Cash!
She spun around. The axe—she’d left her father’s weapon in the bedroom. Cash knew how to use it. It was heavy for him, but he was getting better at wielding it.
The sink counter-top held a bar of soap, a cup with three toothbrushes, and a can of shaving cream.
With freshly shaved legs forgotten, Char opened the medicine cabinet. Pill bottles, creams, disposable Bic Razors. Nothing she could see working as an effective tool to fight the dead.
Under the sink, she found only one thing. It might work. Mostly likely it wouldn’t. She had no other options. She grabbed it and unlocked the door. The solid wood --the only barrier between her and the dead-- was also a barrier between her and her brother.
Cash might still be asleep. Vulnerable.
She couldn’t even remember if she’d shut the bedroom door when she left. She may have. But maybe not.
“Charlene!”
It was Cash. He was up. Worse, she knew that tone. He was scared. The dead had found him.
She threw open the bathroom door.
And screamed.
A woman stood there. Dead. Where the whites of her eyes should have been, there was merely bloodshot red. The eye was clouded over with a thick, grey film. The woman’s flesh was purple, blue. She’d been dead a while. Whatever bit her did a good job at chunking out meat along her throat and shoulder. The worst was seeing bits of skin tissue stuck between the woman’s teeth like chicken, or asparagus.
Char raised the over-sized can of Aqua-net and the lighter and did her best to mimic what she’d seen in movies. The hairspray jetted out from the small white nozzle into the dead’s lifeless eyes. Under the spray, Char thumbed the lighter’s roller to life. With barely a spark, the Aqua-net became a flamethrower, and caught the dead’s hair and face on fire.
Dropping back, Char pulled away the lighter, brought her hands down onto the sink counter and jumped up and she kicked the woman in the gut with both feet, knocking her backward and down the stairs.
The hall was clear.
Except at the end.
At the opened bedroom door.
The room Cash was alone in.
A dead had just entered.
“Hey!” Char ran out of the bathroom. The dead turned to face her. She tried to light the lighter. While running, it was impossible. She dropped it, and the hairspray.