The Somber Shoe

The Somber Shoe

  a Zombies Are People Too! tale

  Short Story by Stacy Kingsley

  Copyright by SNvH 2013

  Charlie’s head throbbed and he couldn’t be sure where he was. When he lifted his aching head, pain shot through his neck; he realized he still sat in the passenger seat of his best friend, Valerie’s crashed car. Smoke billowed out from the front of the car, there were no toxic fumes and nothing seemed to be on fire, so Charlie took care and moved slowly. The front of the car had either struck a tree or got stuck in a ditch; he wasn’t sure and couldn’t see through the smoke. Valerie moaned and he turned his head slowly to look at her.

  His neck ached and his face had hit the dashboard, he tasted blood on his lips. The fact that his face had been smacked on the dashboard made him wonder why the airbags hadn’t deployed. He assumed they always deployed in an accident, guess he had now been proven wrong. Valerie appeared to be unconscious, which might be good for right now because he could get himself out of the car without her panicking in his ear.

  Something under the dashboard had latched onto his right blue Nike shoe so he slipped his foot out, freeing his leg. At least the front of the car hadn’t collapsed in on itself. It felt like only a second or two had passed since he had heard Valerie scream and he had no idea why they had crashed. Since they were in deep country, possibly Tennessee or Mississippi, maybe it had been a deer or some other animal, but until he got outside to look he wouldn’t know for sure.

  The passenger door didn’t want to open but by pressing his weight against it as hard as he could Charlie got the creaking door open. His seatbelt didn’t hold him and as soon as the door opened he fell out of the car onto a blanket of fall enhanced leaves and twigs. With a thump he felt as if every muscle in his body had exploded, and he rested his head on the ground for a moment. Sleep called to him but he knew that a concussion waited to entice him into a coma. Needing to move he lifted his head and looked back into the car.

  His grey seatbelt hung limply in two pieces from the grey seat, mocking him. Charlie realized how lucky he had been not to have gone through the windshield when the seatbelt ripped. He thought Valerie was a smart girl but had to question why she had bought this piece of crap, and with his money.

  Another moan rumbled in his ears, but after looking at Valerie he saw that she still appeared to be unconscious so she couldn’t have been the one who had made it. Someone, or something else snuck around out here, maybe they had hit a person, and not an animal. That thought stuck with Charlie and he knew he had to get up to the road to check on whatever it might be that they hit. First, of course, he needed to make sure Valerie didn’t have any serious injuries.

  Struggle, not a concept Charlie was accustomed to, now became a second skin to him. He had money and could usually pay for pretty much anything he wanted; now he had to do things on his own. His wealth didn’t compare to men like Bill Gates or Mark Zuckerberg, but he knew he never had to work if he didn’t want to. Personally, he didn’t mind having to struggle like the everyman, it kept him from becoming one of those snobby rich guys who thought fun meant getting drunk and crashing a convertible into a swimming pool, yet at this exact moment he would have liked things to have been a little easier. Getting up off of the ground sent a shiver of deep ache all through his body, reaching deep into the marrow of his bones. A yelp escaped his tightly sealed lips, almost causing him to collapse back onto the ground.

  His leg hurt, his arms hurt, his face hurt, blood trickled from his nose, tickling his upper lip. The salty iron taste of blood dribbled down his throat as he realized he had either bitten his tongue or the inside of his cheek, right now he didn’t want to explore his mouth.

  The blue Nike stuck inside the car mocked him and he reached in in an attempt to pull it out, but the shoe didn’t budge. Forget it, he told himself, limping towards the back of the car. Twigs and leaves snapped and crinkled under his left shoe and his right sock clad foot. When he got to the rear of the car he leaned on it and rested, feeling exhausted and unsure. Could he do this?

  With a resolve he knew he had but tried to hide, he felt himself moving.

  Finally he reached the driver’s door and saw that Valerie was still out of it. Hope rose as he saw Valerie’s chest rise and fall with each breath. At least she hadn’t died as he trekked around the car. Grasping the door handle Charlie tugged but couldn’t get her door open. Since he could see her breath in the cool air he hoped, strongly, she would be okay if he left here there. Maybe he could find help on the road; at least he hoped he could.

  This must have been what his Grandmother had wanted him to understan, even though he had a butt load of money, it wouldn’t provide him with the protection a secure, stable life would. Nana Margaret had hated his bohemian lifestyle (which he chose mostly under Valerie’s influence) and had constantly been on him to settle down, find a nice girl and give her many, many great-grandbabies. Charlie eventually wanted to settle down; he just couldn’t find that one girl or a guy that made him want to stay in one place.

  Hillsides were not his friend usually; now he loathed climbing up the one that the car had driven down. It didn’t occur to him that it would be steep, but in his pained state it felt as if he were attempting to accomplish the feat of climbing the majestic Mount Everest. Finally upon reaching the top he felt like celebrating, instead he collapsed on the ground, the warm pavement surprisingly comforting against his cool skin and dark black bruises.

  Nothing lay in the road, at least nothing he could see. Maybe whatever they had hit had been dragged down in the ditch with them, but at the moment Charlie didn’t have the strength to go back down and search again. He just wanted to rest, just for a little while. That restful moment would have to wait because a siren raced by him. An ambulance sped past and surprise ran a course through his head, he thought they would have stopped for the poor broken soul lying on the side of the road.

  Maybe they hadn’t seen him, his dark hair and clothes might have hidden him in the shadow of the tree he lay underneath. Another siren wailed in the distance and Charlie knew that he had to get their attention; it could be hours before someone passed by on this lonely, backwoods stretch of road. Banjos and mutant hillbillies played music in his head, strengthening his resolve to push himself off of the ground and get someone’s attention.

  Once upright Charlie felt like he passing out, dizziness crept behind his eyes like a smooth black cat sneaking up on its prey. All he wanted to do in that moment was lay back down, but that wouldn’t help anyone. The tree that provided his support while he stood felt rough against his tender bruised skin so he forced himself to push away from it. Staggering one step, he moved toward the road in the hopes that not only would he be noticed, but also in the hopes he wouldn’t get hit by whatever siren wielding car raced toward him.

  Sunlight glinted off of the rotating blue and red lights of a police car as it rose over the hill and he waved his right arm weakly, he hoped it was enough. The police car zoomed up to him, the driver swerving a little when they realized a man stood in the street. It rushed to a stop, tires squealing on the hot pavement, black marks burned into the pavement and smoked as the tires struggled to stop.

  The driver’s side door opened and a big burly man clamored out, his usually white face reddened by something; fear, panic, anger, at this point Charlie couldn’t tell.

  “What the hell are you doing in the middle of the road boy?” The overweight officer yelled, approaching rapidly and apparently out of breath. The officer had not looked directly at Charlie yet, or he might not ask that question.

  Charlie felt like collapsing, he didn’t have time or energy to explain it all to this frightful man.

  “I…we…she…accident…help her…
” was all he could sputter out of his broken mouth.

  “Speak up boy,” the officer screamed, suddenly he stopped.

  The sun gleamed off of his nametag as Charlie tried to read the name of the man who had been yelling at him. The officer had stopped walking, stopped moving at all, and his breath came out in ragged huffs. Charlie looked into his face and saw fear, but what could he be afraid of when looking at Charlie. Couldn’t the man tell that Charlie had been in an accident and had been injured enough that he needed help?

  “Son, can you talk?” the fat officer barked questioningly, being careful to stay a certain distance away from Charlie. It almost seemed as if the officer didn’t want to be close enough to Charlie for him to be touched by Charlie.

  “Accident…” Charlie whispered, just loud enough for the officer to hear, “Hurt, need hospital, my friend.” It was all he could muster through his lips, his face hurt so bad that he began to wonder what he might have broken.

  “Okay son, my name is Officer Adams, I’m going to help you but I need to make sure you aren’t going to do anything to hurt me or yourself,” Officer Adams said very slowly and carefully.

  Charlie could do nothing but nod