Home Of The Green Monster
Even now, hiding under an abandoned car on Yawkey Way, under the shadow of Fenway Park, Darlene was in awe. Forget the five undead males ravaging a corpse across the street, ripping the limbs off and digging deeper into the body's cavity.
Darlene ignored them and stared at the green paint of the stadium, imagining the past thrills of being inside with her daddy and watching his beloved Bosox take a game from the hated Yankees. Every year they'd travel down from Maine to see at least one game and it was always against the Yankees.
As a teenager she remembered the Red Sox winning their first World Series in over eighty years and the magical hug her daddy had given her as the team celebrated on the field. Her grandfather had been a life-long suffering Red Sox fan who'd died the year before they'd won, never having seen a victory.
Something scraped against the far end of the car and Darlene stiffened. She silently cursed herself for getting emotional, and realized she'd actually been crying as she thought of the good times. Get your shit together before you get us killed, she thought and got her mind back into focus.
A pair of feet went by slowly, shoe-less and bloody. She watched as the zombie wandered down the street, past the bars that used to be filled with excited baseball fans. Now they were gutted and empty. Darlene would've liked to survive as long as she could in a nice Red Sox jersey and make daddy proud.
Curiosity getting the better of her, she slid out from underneath the car and made sure nothing was sneaking up on her. She ran across the street, peeking into the first open doorway. There was nothing left inside but the gutted bar and a few broken chairs.
The souvenir store next to that was free of fire damage but the looters had been thorough: not even a Red Sox sticker was left.
"Now what?" she whispered. Her run from Maine to Boston had been uneventful save the pickup running out of gas, a horde of zombies following her into Massachusetts and meager food left wherever she looked. "And no survivors."
She guessed it was familiarity and the simple looking for a safe haven that brought her to Fenway Park. Now that she was here she had no idea where to go now.
The third building was scorched but there were still bottles of alcohol behind the bar. She found a bag of pretzels - stale, but she didn't care - and a unopened can of cashews as well. Grabbing a bottle of Cruzan pineapple rum and two large Absolut vodka bottles from the shelf, she was going to have a veritable feast for dinner tonight.
Back on the street, she wondered which way to go. Back North was nothing but heartbreaking memories and her past… and cold weather coming sooner than later.
"South," she whispered. Darlene had no idea how far south she'd go or if she'd head due south. She decided to head west, into Connecticut and then into New York State until the weather told her to change course.
She looked up into the clear sky above Fenway Park and smiled. Another day and she was still alive. You couldn't ask for anything simpler, she realized. Today she had food and drink (strong drink) and just needed a place to sleep without being attacked.
"Inside the Green Monster would be a fantasy come true," she whispered. As a kid going to games she watched in amazement as the scores were manually changed for the game and out-of-town games by someone inside the tight confines of the wall itself.
One of her favorite players, Manny Ramirez, would often duck inside before an inning and she dreamed of being down there. One of her childhood dreams - besides being a ballerina, a veterinarian, and a movie star - was to work for the Red Sox changing the scores while her daddy sat in the stands with pride.
There were only a few zombies on the street and Darlene easily avoided them as she jogged around the stadium, looking for a way in. She eventually ended up at the same spot, the only possible way in to scale a fifteen foot chain-link fence with barbed wire on top.
Once again she looked up at the green stadium wall before her, perhaps in anticipation of seeing it from inside and basking in its marvel.
There was movement on top of the wall.
Darlene put her hands up to wave and get their attention, noting at least three figures, when she saw the rifles. Before she could move a bullet ricocheted off the car in front of her and slammed into the side of the stadium wall.
"I'm alive! I'm alive!" Darlene yelled as she ran back across the street and into the intact building she'd found the supplies in. Two more bullets were fired, shattering the cracked front window and taking a chip out of the doorframe.
She couldn't see the top of the wall from inside but she didn't want to chance a look and get shot. She didn't know if they were warning shots to scare her off or a bad shooter that couldn't hit a moving target. There was no way she was going to stand in the street and ask.
The first zombie came into view outside, obviously attracted to the noise. Within minutes the street was filling with them. No further gunshots rang out, which aggravated Darlene. Whoever was up there would waste bullets on the living but ignore the walking dead.
Darlene grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels Green Label whiskey off the shelf and held it in her hand. In theory she knew she could use the alcohol for various things: as a flaming weapon, to start a fire in the event the weather turns…
"Who am I kidding? I'm going to find a hole, get drunk, and sleep it off for three days," she whispered. Darlene went in search of a back door.