Ricky woke to the sound of his brother, Clint, trying to clear rubble from the stairs. All night long the sound of chains dragging across the floor filled the basement. They had found a battery-powered lantern to light the room, but it was getting dim.
The basement always had a musty smell, but the reek of decay now hung in the air.
“Get away from there,” said Ricky. “Something could collapse on you.”
“I’m just trying to get out of here,” said Clint.
They found some old duvets last night to fashion into makeshift beds so they could get some rest. Ricky motioned for him to sit beside him and put his arm around him.
“I’ll work out how to get out of here soon.”
“How bad is it out there?”
“I don’t know. It was bad enough before the storm hit.”
The chains dragged across the concrete floor again as Mother let out a groan. Her last words to him before chaining herself to a pipe two days ago were still haunting him. Take care of your brother.
“I wish Dad was here,” said Clint.
Ricky hoped Dad would be back by now, but he knew they wouldn’t be seeing him again.
“Is she going to be alright?”
“She’s going to be fine,” Ricky said. He understood now why adults lie to kids sometimes.
Mother was blocking the cellar door. The only exit that led outside. How were they going to get around her?
“I’m so hungry,” said Clint.
Ricky had grabbed two bottles of water when they ran to the basement last night, but there were only a couple of swallows left. “Have some water. It will help fill your belly.”
Clint drained the last drop.
Ricky walked over to Mother. She lifted her gaunt face to look at him. “Mom, are you still in there?” He hoped for some sign of recognition. Some sign that she was with them. “We need to get out.”
Mother stood, taking a step towards him. The chain was about ten feet long. It was the cheap kind they sold at the local hardware store, but it was holding her for now.
“I need you to step away from the door so we can get out and find some food.” She cocked her head to the side. “Step over here,” he said as he moved to his left. She followed him. Her mouth opened. Was she grinning at him? Did she still recognise him?
“Now, stay there,” he motioned as he crept toward the steps that led to the double doors. It was dark, but he could see the padlock. The only key he knew of was in the kitchen drawer upstairs. There had to be one down here.
“Look out!” said Clint.
She moved fast and grabbed his shirt. They both tumbled to the floor as her hands grabbed his leg. She dragged herself to his waist as her mouth opened, ready to bite him.
Ricky panicked and gave her a kick in the chest. She flinched as her grip loosened and he scuttled away. This wasn’t their mother anymore. No more family dinners, vacations, or goodnight kisses.
He rushed back to Clint, who was crying.
“That was a close one. We can’t let that happen again.”
“What are we going to do?”
Ricky looked around the basement. Racks of their father’s tools surrounded them. Drills, screwdrivers, hammers, and other bits and pieces, including some chalk. He told Clint to help him find the key. His despair grew with each drawer and box he opened.
His father had an axe that he used to split firewood. It would rust outside, so it must be in here somewhere. He searched the shelves, uncovering old pots and pans Mother would never use again.
“If we can’t find the key, help me find the axe.”
“You’re not going to use it on Mom?” Clint said.
“Don’t worry. It’s just to break the padlock.”
Clint lifted a sheet next to the workbench. “Here. I found it.”
Ricky heaved it onto his shoulder. “This thing weighs a ton.”
Being the leader was never something Ricky wished for. He wanted to be back in his room reading comics and playing video games. When their parents were at work, he hated being in charge of Clint.
Clint found an old broomstick. Ricky told him to use it to push her out of the way if she got too close.
“I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Neither do I. And I don’t want you to get hurt, but I need your help.”
He set the axe down on the floor and took the broomstick from Clint. Walking toward his mother, he tapped the broomstick on the ground.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
His mother looked up and lunged toward him with her arms out. He stepped away, out of her reach.
Clint tugged the back of his shirt. “Scoot back, you’re too close.”
“It’s fine. The chain’s holding.”
She was grunting at them. She hadn’t eaten in a couple of days, so she would be hungrier than they were, and he didn’t want to be on the menu.
“What if it doesn’t hold?”
“It will. Hand me that chalk.”
The light dimmed. Clint got the chalk from the workbench and brought it to him. Ricky knelt down and marked a line a yard long in front of their mother and told his brother not to go past it.
Clint shook his head. “I won’t go near it.”
Ricky told him the plan. Clint asked what would happen if his plan didn’t work. Ricky told him it would. He prayed that this would work.
The lantern flickered as Ricky went back and picked up the axe. Time to start this while they still had some light.
“You ready?”
Clint nodded. Ricky hoped he was as he walked toward the cellar doors. Mother started walking toward him. Ricky pointed at Clint and mouthed, “Go.”
“Hey Mom,” said Clint.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
She turned and moved toward the sound.
Ricky tiptoed his way up the steps to the door. As Mother strained toward Clint, the chain was stretching. She was getting stronger, so he had to move fast before a link gave way. He lifted the axe and gave the padlock a good whack.
Mother turned to Ricky. “Keep tapping.”
Tap, tap, tap.
She walked toward Clint. “Just do it!”
Ricky whacked the padlock again. The doors were at an angle, making it awkward to get a good swing. The lantern flickered, then went out. They were in total darkness now.
The chains moved across the floor. “Keep tapping!”
taptaptaptaptap
Whack! Ricky hit the door instead of the lock, letting through a small ray of light.
taptaptap
She ran to the chalk line, snapping the chain. Clint cried out, holding her away with the broomstick. Mother grabbed it, scratching his hand.
“Ricky!”
The padlock cracked. Did he give it another whack?
Her voice haunted him. Take care of your brother.
Mother pushed Clint to the ground and leaned over him. Her fetid open mouth got closer to his face. Dark saliva dripped from it.
“Get away from him!”
There was a crunch, like celery snapping. Her neck bent backward. Another crunch. The axe penetrated her skull. A guttural cry escaped her as Ricky pulled it out and kicked her away.
He knelt by Clint, grabbing his shoulder. “Are you okay? Did she bite you?”
“No, I don’t think so,” he said as Ricky helped him up and hugged him.
They both looked down at the body. The woman who was once their mother. Ricky held back tears. He wanted to kneel beside her, but didn’t want to get too close. “I’m sorry, Mother.”
He looked at Clint. “You know it wasn’t her anymore, right?”
“I know.” He held out his injured hand. “Am I going to turn into one of them?”
“No, it’s just a scratch.”
They stared down at her body. Ricky did what he needed to keep them safe, but they couldn’t stay here.
“Let’s get outside,” Ricky said as they walked to the door. He gave the padlock one last hit as it tumbled down the stairs. They opened the doors and walked out into the sunshine and looked back at the basement.
“Goodbye, Mother,” said Clint.
“Come on,” said Ricky, taking Clint’s hand. “We need to get to town before dark.”