Free Undead by John Russo

lifted it and fumbled to put the shoe on her foot. It did not go on easily, partly because it was too small, but mostly because of her limpness. But he did succeed in getting it on and he set her foot down gently and took hold of the other one.
    After completing the task of putting on both her shoes for her, he leaned back on his haunches and looked into her face. She seemed to be staring at her feet.
    “That’s a real Cinderella story,” he said, in an attempt at a joke.
    No response. The man reached reflexively for his sweater pocket—but he had given Barbara his sweater.
    “Hey—you know you got my cigarettes?”
    He tried to smile again, but still got no reaction. He reached toward her and his hand entered the pocket of the sweater he had draped over her shoulders. His action made the girl appear to be looking directly at him, and her stare made him uncomfortable.
    “You got my cigarettes,” he said again, in a gentler tone, as one would try to explain some concept to a child, and as he spoke he pulled the pack of cigarettes from the pocket and leaned back on his haunches, as if he should not have ventured to touch her. He fumbled for a cigarette, put it in his mouth and lit it, trying not to look at the girl.
    Her gaze still seemed to be fixed on his face.
    The radio continued to drone, making her silence somehow more eerie for Ben. He would have been glad to have the metallic tones of the radio overridden by the sounds of another human voice.
     
    “…TUNED TO THIS WAVELENGTH FOR EMERGENCY INFORMATION. YOUR LAW ENFORCEMENT AGENCIES URGE YOU TO REMAIN IN YOUR HOMES. KEEP ALL DOORS AND WINDOWS LOCKED OR BOARDED SHUT…”
     
    Ben inhaled his first puff of smoke and blew it through his nose. “We’re doing okay,” he repeated. “All our doors and windows are secure. Now…maybe you ought to lie down, you…Do you smoke?” Hopefully, he held up the burning cigarette. Her stare dropped from him back to the floor. He took another drag and blew the smoke out quickly.
    “Maybe you—”
    He cut himself short. He was getting nowhere. His time had better be spent in securing the old house against attack.
    He scooped up the rifle and ammunition and sat in a chair across from Barbara and began methodically loading the shells into the chamber.
    “Now, I don’t know if you’re hearing me or not—or if you’re out cold or something. But I’m going upstairs now. Okay? Now we’re safe down here. Nothing can get in here—at least not easy. I mean, they might be able to bust in, but it’s gonna take some sweat, and I could hear them and I think I could keep them out. Later on, I’m gonna fix things good, so they can’t get in nohow, but it’s good for the time being. You’re okay here.”
    He continued to load the rifle as he spoke, his cigarette dangling from his lip, causing him to squint from the smoke curling around his eyes.
    “Now the upstairs is the only other way something can get in here, so I’m gonna go up and fix that.”
    He finished loading the last shell and was about to stand up when his glance fell on the girl again, and he tried to get through one last time.
    “Okay? You gonna be all right?”
    She remained silent. The man stood, tucked the rifle under his arm, grabbed up as much lumber as he could carry, and started for the stairs.
    The girl looked up at him as he turned his back and he was aware of it, but he kept moving and her stare followed him.
    “I’m gonna be upstairs. You’re all right now. I’ll be close by—upstairs. I’ll come running if I hear anything.”
    He started up the stairs.
    At the top of the landing, with a quick sucking in of his breath, he was confronted once again with the body that lay there torn and defaced. It was the corpse of a woman, probably an elderly woman, judging from the style of the remaining clothing that lay ripped into tatters and crusted in dried blood. Most of the flesh had been gnawed from the bones. The head was nearly severed from the