The Vault

A short story about fear

A dozen fists belonging to the dead pounded against the steel door. I yelped and almost dropped my brandy glass, spilling the amber liquid on my pants. 

James sipped his brandy casually, as if death was not feet away. “Bank vaults can survive a nuclear blast, Arjun.” 

When I didn’t reply, James continued, “It’s true. The entire contents of Teikoku Bank’s vault in Hiroshima survived the atomic bomb, as did another Mosler Safe Company vault that was deliberately exposed to an atomic explosion during Operation Plumb Bob in 1957. We’re safe. There’s no way the dead’s getting in here.”

“And”—my words cracked like they were broadcast over an old-time AM radio during a thunderstorm—“this is a Mosler vault?”

Though they had all heard James’ spiel before, the eleven other survivors in the room paid close attention to their leader, ignoring the loud banging as if it was the most common sound in the world. 

James waved his arm along the vault’s interior, a space about twenty by thirty feet. Blue-tinged LEDs powered by generators illuminated the room, reflecting off the hundreds of silvery safety deposit box doors that lined three walls from floor to ceiling. None of the boxes were open because anything inside that was valuable before the apocalypse was now worthless unless it was a knife or axe. Lounge chairs—some antique, some from the 1960s, and others more modern—added a kaleidoscope of color to the room, as did the side tables spread helter-skelter throughout the makeshift lounge.

I’d never been on the other side of a bank safe door before. I knew many were circular, but I didn’t know why a designer chose this shape over the more traditional square door. Probably something to do with strength. The door looked impenetrable, exuding a fortress vibe with its twenty-six bolts, each as thick as a weightlifter's arm, Rube Goldbergesque gears, and clock.

“Of course, it’s a Mosler. We wouldn’t do drinks in anything other than the best and safest. Would we, gents and ladies?”

The others nodded and replied, “yes,” “absolutely,” “this is the safest place on Earth,” “totally zombie-proof.” 

A woman in her thirties with shoulder-length chestnut hair and freckles smiled from across the room, raised her snifter, took a sip, and smiled again. I had seen her several times during my five days at the colony. She tended the vegetable garden and helped maintain the three wells that provided water to this community of one thousand one hundred. I’d spied her going in and out of the medical clinic, too, where she also worked. People had multiple jobs at Sun Valley, an apocalyptic survival necessity.

Upon arrival, the committee told me they’d assign me work after acclimating to Sun Valley’s rules and lifestyle.

I needed Sun Valley. I had owned a small coffee shop, spending my days in the company of caffeinated conversation. I fled the city after the monsters took my girlfriend’s life, and she nearly took mine at the Uptown movie theater in the apocalypse’s first days. 

When, after fifteen minutes, Elena didn’t return from the snack counter, and the coming attractions were almost over, I went to look for her. She led a growing pack of the dead. I ran home, grabbed my camping gear, and headed to the woods. 

Living alone was okay for a time—and as safe as one could be in this gruesome world—but I thrived on human contact. 

The intake committee also said James McIsaac, the community’s leader, would invite me for drinks. James had been the Vice President of Cleveland Bank and Trust Company, and it was his idea to turn the expansive vault into a drinking club. “Survival can’t just be about fighting,” he said. “We need to relax and enjoy, too.”

I took another sip of brandy.

The woman with the brown hair walked over to the makeshift bar, a table with mismatched glasses, half-filled bottles of various alcoholic beverages, napkins, peanuts, Saltines, and M&Ms, brought a Rémy Martin bottle over and refilled my glass. She then sat in the empty chair beside me, extended a hand, and said, “I’m Luna.”

“Arjun.”

“Nice to meet you, Arjun. I hope you like our little community.”

“It’s better than the tent I’d been living in for the past eleven months.” I glanced at my Rolex Submariner, a sure survivor of any apocalypse. “It’s been eleven months since the world ended? I’ve lost track of time.” 

“Yes. It’s incredible what we’ve built so quickly, mostly thanks to James. You’ll be safe in Sun Valley—and happy, too.” She winked. “I promise.”

“I already am.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“I was lucky that I didn’t see many zombies on the mountain where I hid, but I have a question. Have you noticed that the zomb—?” I started to ask.

“That they've changed?”

I twitched when the pounding against the vault door boomed louder, faster. 

“Are you a mind reader as well as beautiful?”

“And smart, too,” Luna said. “Don’t forget, smart.”

I liked her. In the few moments I’d known her, I liked everything about Luna. Of course, it could be that any human was great, given there were so few of us. I recalled an old television show about the last man and woman on Earth after a war, feeling as if I was starring in that program. “Definitely smart.” 

I frowned. “Something about them is different, but I can't put my finger on it. What have you observed?”

“I suppose it was natural for me to notice because I was a biology teacher in the before time. Zombies evolve, too.”

“How is that possible? They’re dead. How can dead beings evolve?”

“I don’t know how, but I’ve seen some pause before attacking as if they’re analyzing their prey. Half a year ago, they were mere eating machines, but now they’re more. Zombies are hard to study because it's dangerous to get close and because where there's one, there's many.” Luna downed the rest of her brandy. “At least we’re safe here. If the vault can withstand a nuclear blast, it can hold out against a dozen or even a thousand zombies.”

I cleared my throat. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask about the vault. How do we get out of here with all those zombies outside?” There had been no zombies around when we entered, but they swarmed once the generator fired up.

Luna pointed to the plastic bin on the other side of the vault. “Flashbangs. Even zombies rely on senses, and one-hundred-eight-decibel grenades render their hearing inoperable. The seven million candela temporarily destroys their ability to see, too. James will crack open the vault door, toss two grenades out, momentarily shut the door, and then we’re good to go. We end the evening with a bang.”

“Okay.”

“We do this every week. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried.” I tucked my hands under my legs so Luna wouldn’t see them trembling. Saying “don’t worry” was like telling somebody to relax when turbulence tossed an airplane. 

When James invited me to drinks outside Sun Valley’s protective walls, I tried to decline. “We can’t move the bank,” James said. “But it’s only ten minutes away, and we’re armed. We’re always armed. We’ve never lost anyone going to or coming from the vault.” 

Hollywood’s zombies were nothing like the real ones. Actors died, then got up again. Faux monsters fatally bit people, who then wiped off the stage blood and took a lunch break. Extras screamed and perished, and if they didn't scream loudly or die dramatically enough, the camera crew refilmed the scene. 

The real world was terror distilled to its essence. The zombies killed billions, each death agonizing. 

“Are zombies the most terrifying thing you can imagine?” I asked. Immediately, I wanted to withdraw the question, wishing instead to switch to a more pleasant subject, like puppies or rainbows. But it was impossible not to talk about zombies because zombies governed everything we did.

Every conversation circled back to them. Do zombies like music? No, of course not. Favorite movie when going to the movies was a thing? Can’t even imagine movies because a zombie could lurk behind any seat. What’s the weather forecast for tomorrow? Storms with lightning and thunder, which makes it harder to notice zombies on approach.

Luna said, “I was a laid-back kid. Nothing scared me, maybe because both my parents were EMTs. I heard horror stories all the time about their work. Even when they weren’t telling me about their day, they talked among themselves, so I overheard the most terrifying reality imaginable.”

“Until now.”

“Until now.”Luna brushed her fingers against my thigh. 

“I suppose if I think about it, I can imagine a scarier monster. Let’s see. Creatures with tentacles are scary. So are giant spiders.” She stroked her chin. Luna snapped her fingers, causing everyone to turn their heads our way. “I know! The cyclops gives me the willies. I don’t know why, but I shriek whenever I see a picture of the cyclops in a book. What about you? You’re a survivor, having lived for nearly a year on your own. Are zombies the worst, or do you think there’s something even scarier?” 

I peered into the brandy, where images of walking skeletons, goat-headed ghosts, snakes with six rows of teeth, and other monstrosities swirled. I covered the snifter with my hand to keep those images inside the glass and said, “A zombie that swims.” 

“They do. Or rather, they mostly float, but even if they sink, they don’t perish.”

“Is that one of their evolutionary changes?” 

“As far as I can tell, they’ve always had that ability.”

“That’s worse than Jaws.”

“Yup. Stay out of the water, all water.”

“Flying zombies,” I offered. “Just the thought makes my skin crawl.”

“I get that. They’d terrify me, too. Fortunately, zombies with the ability to fly don’t seem possible now or anytime down the evolutionary road.” She squeezed my hand. 

She’s warm, I thought. 

“They’ll never be able to fly over the walls. Has the committee assigned you lodging yet?”

“I’m living in a dorm with eight other new arrivals. The intake committee said they'll sort out my living situation after my one-month probation period ends.”

“Maybe I can help with that—”

Everyone’s heads spun toward a guttural growl from behind James. His Rococo Revival chair shook as if it were in an earthquake’s epicenter.  

A geyser of arterial blood erupted from his neck, and his agonized scream echoed off the vault's walls. 

Six chairs screeched along the floor, moving away from James as if propelled by a hurricane’s wind and the other six of us, including Luna and me, bolted to the room’s far side.

We froze as chunks of flesh disappeared from James’ neck and face. His shirt ripped open, seemingly on its own, muscle and blood splattering everywhere. James thrashed and wailed for another thirty seconds until he fell to the floor, silent and still.

After a minute, James reanimated, his legs cracking as he rose.

“Oh my God,” a forties woman wearing tortoise-frame glasses cried out. “He’s a zombie!”

“Where did the other come from? I don’t see it!” screamed the blond man next to her. As he spoke, another woman screamed, but not principally from fear, though that may have contributed to her shrieks. Something ripped the flesh off her cheek, and blood spilled from where her right ear had been. 

What had been James staggered toward a man in his seventies, who beat James with a cane, smacking him over and over across the head. Finally, as the old man appeared to have defeated his opponent, James vanished. Poof, gone, like salt in the wind. 

Luna grabbed my hand. “Invisibility! The zombies have evolved and are invisible.”

“No!” I replied. “How is that possible?”

“We have to get out of here now.”

In the chaos of screams and withering bodies, Luna managed to open the vault door. She threw two flashbangs into the hallway and tossed two more inside as we scrambled out. 

My ears rang, and spots raced in front of my eyes, but I could see enough to make it down the hallway and up the stairs. 

Luna pitched more flashbangs behind us for insurance because we could not know if invisible zombies were pursuing or lurking in corners or shadows or anywhere. 

I shrieked as I ran into something unseen, but it was only a spider’s web. “We have to warn everyone,” I said. “We have to get back to Sun Valley and—” 

The clamor of cries and screams in the distance interrupted me. 

Luna shook her head as if to say, “It’s too late.”

I spun three hundred sixty degrees, searching for unseeable zombies, now knowing the most terrifying monster that could ever walk the Earth.

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