Rock and a Hard Place Six
The Favor
Rachel
Kirkman has never considered herself strong or smart. Growing up in Binford
North Dakota, the second youngest girl of five, she has had to live in the
shadow of her sisters’ greatness all her life. At 28, Rachel hadn’t
accomplished much. She managed to graduate from college but barely with a
degree in art studies. Her sister, Meredith was kind enough to tell her the
degree was useless and she was right. After years of painting, drawing, and
struggling to get her work in any kind of gallery, Rachel was unsuccessful as
an artist or as Meredith would put it, a failure.
Rachel
couldn’t afford to live on her own and was forced to move back in with her
parents who were not too happy to have her. Her father would mumble how all
that money for college was a waste, all Rachel could do was hold her head down
and go to her room.
The
local news has been filling with more reports of people acting strangely.
Rachel’s sisters were home for the week to celebrate her mom’s birthday and had
been out shopping when a disturbance occurred in the mall. Meredith spoke of
having to go to the hospital after a crazy man in the mall bit her.
“Can you
believe it? Some jerk off took a bite out of me. I hope I don’t need rabies
shots. Tasha, you’re a doctor, what do you think?” Meredith asked.
“The
wound has been dressed and all the tests were negative, you’ll be fine.” Tasha
had recently finished her residency at the local hospital. They didn’t direct their
conversation to Rachael but instead spoke as if she wasn’t there. Rachael
doesn’t think they mean to be mean to her, but it was hard to think otherwise
with their behavior. Rather them listen to them regal their tale, Rachael
quietly walked upstairs to her room. She escaped back into her book, a thriller
about zombies and the end of the world.
A loud
bang on the front door disturbed her and she heard her father yell. What the
hell was going on? Rachael heard a struggle then a shot gun blast. Her father
keeps the gun in the hall closet in case of intruders and the thunderous blast
brought Rachael downstairs to see her neighbor, Charles Knight, lying face down
in a pool of blood. Her sisters and mother where screaming that he tried to eat
her father.
Dad was
leaning against the wall holding the remains of his arm that looked more like
shredded meat than an elbow. Her mother held the shot gun and a shocked
expression. Rachael couldn’t speak; she was instead looking out the front door
at the horror that was unfolding. The streets were filled with people lumbering
from house to house. There were no sirens, no police cars, and no signs of
containment. Rachael recognized the shambling walk, the incoherent moans, the
pale dead flesh and coagulated injuries as soon as she saw it. She was obsessed
with zombie paraphernalia from books, to movies, to television shows. Rachael
may not be a doctor, but she diagnosed this problem quickly and knew how to
treat it.
She
quietly closed the front door and spoke to her family.
“Dad is
going to die and then he’s going to come back and kill us all. We need to take
care of him. Meredith, you’ve been bit, you too will die.” Rachael didn’t mean
to sound so cold but it was the truth. She took the shot gun out of her mom’s
slack hand and methodically refilled the spent cartridge.
“What
the hell are you talking about? We’re fine; we just need to get dad to the
hospital.” Meredith was crying, the first time Rachael had seen her shed a
tear. Meredith walked over to their trembling father. “Please, help me.” She
pleaded.
“I am.”
Rachael pointed the shotgun at Meredith’s head and pulled the trigger. The
blast was loud in the close confines of the formal living room and red matter
painted the beige wall. Rachael, being an artist, could appreciate the art of
the spray. She shifted the smoking muzzle to her father’s head and pulled the trigger;
the second blast was not as deafening.
Silent
filled the house. No one could speak. Rachael resigned herself; she did what
she had to do. There was no time to debate or explain. Slowly, Rachael looked
at her three remaining sisters and her mother. She trained her eyes to focus on
signs of injuries. She knew that Meredith was bit at the mall, Rachael could
now see wrapped bandages around her sisters’ and mother’s hands. They must have
tried to fight the infected man off Meredith unaware that they were sealing
their fates.
They
must have seen the knowing look in Rachael’s eyes as she reloaded the shotgun.
They screamed at her to stop; that what she was doing was murder.
“We’re
not infected! We’re not infected! You’re crazy! Rachael please, please stop!”
Tasha took out her phone to dial 911, Rachael fired on her before she could
punch send. It wouldn’t do any good regardless. Jen tried to run for the back
door with her mom, Rachael stopped them with a gunshot to the back. They both
flew forward landing in the kitchen.
Carly,
the youngest, just stood there in the middle of the carnage. Out of all the
sisters, Carly was the one Rachael was most close too. Rachael would have
hesitated if not for the wound on Carly’s hand. She had to die or she’ll turn.
She was doing them all a favor and can only hope that should she get bit,
someone would do the same for her.
Rachael
calmly walked to Carly who kneeled down on the hard wood floor. She knew there
was no point in running. Silent tears ran down her face to her trembling body.
Rachael didn’t want to see, but pointed the shotgun at Carly’s head and let
loose the shell. The sound of the thud confirmed Carly’s lifeless body hitting
the floor.
Strangely
enough, no tears fell from Rachael. This was not something she wanted to do but
had to do. Perhaps she should feel something, but she didn’t. There was a crash
at the front door and Rachael expected more zombies to pour in after all the
shot gun blasts but oddly enough two police officers ran into the living room;
a look of abhorrence on their faces. Rachael blacked out.
“Has she
said why she did it, Dr. Foster?” A man in a suit spoke while watching Rachael
through a padded door.
“She
just keeps saying that she had to do it. She claims they were infected and
would turn into zombies if she didn’t kill them. Apparently, Ms. Kirkman, has
been obsessed with anything zombie related.” Dr. Foster spoke clinically.
“Damn,
seven murders. She calmly just killed her entire family because she thought
they were zombies? She even shot the neighbor on the front porch. That’s
crazy.” Suit man exclaimed.
“Yes,
that’s why she’s here instead of on death row. Truthfully, I think she really
does believe she was doing her family a favor by killing them. She really does
believe the world has ended.” Dr. Foster sighed.
“Unfortunately,
her world has ended. She’ll never get out of this hospital.” Suit man left the
padded room containing the convicted killer. He walked down the long hallway
with just the lonesome sound of his soles echoing in the silence. He went back
to his office to start his report and would soon go home to his wife in the
real world that did not end.
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