The Children Are Not People
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THE CHILDREN ARE NOT PEOPLE
First edition. July 27, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 Logan Rutherford.
Written by Logan Rutherford.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter One
Thomas stopped under the billboard that haunted his mind’s eye for almost a year. “25 Miles until Spring, Home of the 2014 Division III Football State Champions, the Roaring Thunder.” Behind the white letters sat the high school logo: a thundercloud with fierce eyes, a snarling mouth, and a cartoonish lightning bolt striking the ground. The paint looked much more worn and faded than it did a year ago when Thomas left for his senior year of college. Whenever he saw that sign in his rearview mirror as he drove away from his home, he had no idea the circumstances under which he was going to see it again: on his way to kill his little brother.
Thomas admired the billboard for a final few moments. He always thought the thing was a mouthful. He turned his attention back to the empty interstate that stretched for miles ahead, and began walking. He wondered about the circumstances under which he’d see the sign again as he entered the final stretch of his 11-months journey. No matter what the exact circumstances were, he’d be gazing upon the sign as, once again, an only child.
Thomas adjusted his hat to keep the mid-morning sun out of his eyes. At the moment, its brightness was the only nuisance. In a few more hours, however, the heat would start to be trouble as well. For the last month of his 11-months journey, the sun had been the biggest threat of them all as Thomas trekked through the wasteland.
He wondered what it’d be like to go back in time to a year ago and tell that to his younger self. Hey, next month a virus is going to break out turning all the kids in the world into zombies. But don’t worry, when you’re on the way to kill your little brother you’re going to be so used to killing zombies that the sun is going to be your biggest threat. Thomas shook his head and chuckled quietly to himself. It’d been a long year, filled with many difficulties. Flat tires, roads filled with abandoned cars, starvation, freezing temperatures, and seemingly a million other things that tried stopping him from reaching his goal.
One thing Thomas knew for sure, however, was that no matter who or what stood in his way, the hardest part of the journey was yet to come. He still didn’t know how he was going to do it. With a knife? A gun? Something blunt? He still wasn’t sure. It wasn’t something he’d thought about a lot, or at least he tried not to. Deciding on the right tool to use to kill your zombified little brother wasn’t exactly something he thought about to help him go to sleep at night. There was whiskey for that. Unfortunately, his flask had run dry two weeks ago, so those thoughts had invaded his mind having finally broken through his first line of defenses.
The low moan of a zombie shook Thomas from his thoughts. He dropped to the ground and searched to his right where the sound came from. He couldn’t see anything over the concrete divide that separate both sides of the highway.
While keeping low, Thomas shuffled towards the barrier for cover, doing his best to keep from kicking any of the dead leaves that had gathered on the ground. Silence and stealth were your friend when it came to dealing with zombies, a lesson Thomas had learned the hard way at the beginning of his journey. Thomas grit his teeth and forced the memory out of his mind. Yet another train of thought he once kept at bay with whiskey that kept cropping up in its absence.
The zombie moaned and shuffled down the road, perpetually wandering like they all do until they find something to eat. Once they do, they turned into an almost different beast altogether. Thomas was determined not to become a mid-morning snack, especially not so close to his goal. Over the past months he’d become quite skilled at dispatching the un-dead, almost to the point where he barely even thought about slicing through someone’s neck with ease, or firing a round through a zombie’s head. It was beginning to become second nature to him. Now, however, he took his time. Whereas in the past he would’ve walked right up to the creature and shoved a cold hard piece of steel through the back of its head, now he waited and listened, hoping to avoid the encounter altogether. He wasn’t about to start getting cocky and slip up. Not now that he was less than 25 miles from his little brother.
The zombie continued to shuffle along the empty highway, and Thomas listened for a few more moments, making sure there were no other zombies straggling behind for him to worry about. Once he was as sure as he could be that he was alone with the creature, he slowly stood up, pausing just for a moment as his eyes peered over the concrete barrier. He watched the zombie shuffle along. It wore no shirt, showing its dark and leathered skin on its back, wrinkled and cracked from wandering in the sun for weeks and months on end.
Thomas reached down for the large knife he had looped through his belt at his side. He grasped the leather handle of the blade, and slowly pulled the knife out of its sheath. He put a hand on the barrier to stabilize himself as he climbed over, but as he raised his foot to begin the awkward process of quietly clambering over the thing, he saw something that stopped him in his tracks. He dropped back to cover behind the barrier, wincing at the noise he’d made. He listened closely, and the moans confirmed what he’d glimpsed for a split second.
There was more than one zombie.
Thomas strained to listen, closing his eyes to help him concentrate. The moaning and shuffling crescendoed until their numbers were indiscernible. It was not a massive horde like he’d seen before by any means, but there was enough to make the chances of survival slim should he take them head-on.
Thomas opened his eyes and looked at the line of trees in front of him. He guessed they were about eighty to ninety yards away from him. If he could make a break for it, with the concrete barrier slowing the zombies down, he felt he could make it. He would just have to cross the two lanes of the highway, go down and back up the small ravine that separated the highway from the service road, then get through the barbed wire fence that once kept livestock in, but Thomas hoped would now keep the zombies out.
Thomas turned his attention back to the parade of zombies behind him. The moaning and shuffling of feet drowning out any other sound that may have been heard. He used the sound as cover to slide off his backpack, and reached into the large open pocket he kept unzipped. He took out a small black periscope he’d made himself using some PVC pipe and broken piece of a mirror. It didn’t work very well which is why he never used it often, but in the current situation, it seemed like suicide to poke his head up over the barrier.
He lifted the bottom part of the periscope to his eye, and slowly rose up until the top part peered over the barrier. His heart skipped a beat as he realized the horde was much larger than he’d anticipated. There had to be at least a hundred of them filling up the other side of the highway. Thomas wasn’t sure how long it’d be until the whole horde would pass, and even then he’d surely run into them again if he kept following the highway. Either that or the horde would cross over onto his side of the highway, which would mean making a break for the trees would become much more difficult since he wouldn’t have the concrete barrier acting as a speed bump.
He pulled the periscope down and shoved it into his backpack. Whether he liked it or not, a break for the trees was his only option.
Thomas
faced the tree line, and crouched on his knees. There was no point in trying to be stealthy about his escape. Despite how loud the zombies were, one of them would surely hear or see him, setting off a chain reaction that would have the whole horde coming after him. No, he had to go fast and loud from the start. The few seconds it would take for the zombies to realize what was going on could be the difference between life and death.
Thomas took one deep breath, then a second. For a split-second he wished he’d taken out the photo of his little brother from his backpack and gotten one last look. He clenched his eyes shut and pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He needed to concentrate on one thing, and that was how fast he could make his legs move.
He opened his eyes and took off running, trying his best to block out the sound of the screeching zombies behind him as they realized their next meal had been under their half-decayed noses this whole time.
Chapter Two
Thomas reached the ravine and began running down it, trying to ignore the sounds of the zombies getting over the barrier. His forward momentum was too much for him to handle however, and he fell forward rolling down to the bottom of the small hill.
He pushed himself up off the ground, his heart pounding in his chest. He turned his head stealing a glance from behind, and regretted it instantly. The zombies made it over the barrier much easier than he’d anticipated, and were coming straight for him. Unlike before, they were no longer stumbling and moaning. They were sprinting at full speed, screeching at the top of their re-animated lungs.
Thomas propelled himself forward, running up the other side of the ravine as fast as his legs could take him. Once he reached the top, he sprinted full speed towards the tree line. The horde had just reached the ravine and were falling down the hill just as Thomas had, their speed too much to handle the quick change in topography. This proved a better speed bump than the concrete barrier, and for that Thomas was grateful.
He slowed down as he reached the barbed wire fence, and threw his backpack onto the other side. He stopped and pushed down on one of the lines of barbed wire, creating a gap big enough for him to climb through to the other side.
Something behind him caught his attention right before he started going through however, and he turned around just in time to catch a zombie before it could sink its teeth into him. Thomas fell to the ground, grappling with the zombie to keep its gnashing teeth away from his flesh. He reached down for his knife, pulled it out, and thrust the blade into the zombie’s head. The creature fell silent and still, but more were coming.
Thomas jumped up, sheathed his blade, and scrambled through the fence just as the next wave of zombies made it out of the ravine and barreled towards him. He knew the fence wouldn’t stop the horde, so he had to keep moving.
Reaching down, he grabbed his backpack, threw it over his shoulder, and sprinted through the dense shrubbery.
His mind raced as it processed multiple avenues of escape, trying to figure out which was most suitable. Keep running, or try to hide? He'd never tested the theory, but he figured the zombies were unable to climb a tree. He searched as he ran for a tree he'd be able to climb quickly and easily. He had to be sure he could climb it, because once he stopped, there'd be no escaping the wave of zombies if the tree proved impossible to climb.
He did all this while focusing on the woods in front of him, keeping a close eye on the ground in front of him for roots or limbs that would trip him up. He'd really be a goner if he ate dirt this time.
The sound of the zombies pounding the ground and screaming grew closer behind him. Thomas knew he didn't have much time left. He had to either pick up the pace and risk tripping over something, or make like Tarzan and start climbing.
Gunshots rang out ahead of him. Wait wh— a tree branch exploded above him, splintering from a bullet.
“Don’t stop running!” someone yelled.
Thomas didn’t have time to ask questions or to try and process what was going on. He just kept on running. Machine guns fired, bullets whizzing around him. Thomas hoped whoever was firing the weapons were good shots.
He looked behind him and saw the numbers thinning.
They were good shots.
Zombies fell to the ground and before long, they were almost all dead.
Thomas slowed down, catching his breath. He scanned the trees, but couldn’t see the people who’d just saved him. “Hello?” he called out. “Where are you?”
“Hands up!” a voice shouted. Thomas couldn’t tell where the sound was coming from.
“I’m not looking for trouble!”
“You sure brought a lot with you,” a voice directly behind him said.
Thomas spun around but before he could see who the person was a rag was over his mouth. A buzzing sound filled his ears like a million bees buzzed in his brain. Then the world went dark.
Chapter Three
The first thing Thomas felt was pain. His head pounded and his wrists were sore. He opened his eyes and tried to reach up and rub them, but they couldn’t reach. He realized he was handcuffed to a chair, the metal cuffs cutting into his wrists.
Thomas examined the dark room around him, trying to find an explanation to how he found himself in his current situation. The memory came back to him just as he made eye contact with a man standing in the corner.
“Hello,” the man said, as he stepped out of the darkness and into the small amount of light being cast from a source behind Thomas. “How are you feeling?”
“Where the hell am I?” Thomas asked, his throat dry and aching. “Why do you have me tied up like this?”
“Just a precaution,” he answered. The man looked to be in his mid-40’s. He had jet black hair, but a beard that was more salt than pepper. “I’m sure you understand. It seems like you’ve been out there for a while, so you know how people can get these days.”
“Do you have to have these on so tight?” Thomas asked, raising his hands as far as they could go.
“You’ll have to forgive me, but the tightness of your handcuffs is not my concern at the moment.” The man put his hands in his pockets and starred at Thomas for a moment, almost as if he was examining him. “Normally I have three questions that I ask.” The man pulled Thomas’ driver’s license out of his pocket. “You had this in your belongings though, so I already know the answer to my first question, Thomas.”
Thomas grit his teeth as anger flushed through him. “If I find a single thing missing from my stuff—”
“—Not to worry,” the man said as he raised a hand to silence Thomas. “All your belongings will be returned to you in the same condition you left them. Well, except for that sleeve of Oreos. Been a while since I had one of those. Couldn’t help myself.” The man smirked and took another step closer to Thomas.
“Alright then, you know my name, what’s yours?” Thomas asked.
“Mark,” the man replied. “Are you ready for my next two questions? Then you’ll be free to go.”
Thomas wasn’t sure whether or not to trust the man, but it seemed like he didn’t have much of a choice. “Whatever it takes to get these damn cuffs off.”
“Alright then. What’s your business in the area, Thomas?”
“My business is my business. It has nothing to do with you. Just let me go and I’ll be on my way.”
Mark smiled and let out a small chuckle. “That’s not how this is going to work, Thomas. You see, I got a community of forty-eight people out there, and we’re doing what we can to survive. It’s my job to keep them safe, and I can’t do that if I got strangers running around the camp jeopardizing our safety.” Mark leaned down and placed his hands on his knees. The smell of chocolate wafted from his mouth. “You see, you brought a whole horde barreling down on us, and I didn’t really appreciate that. We lost a lot of ammo and almost lost some of our people cleaning up your mess. By doing so you’ve made your business my business. So answer my question. What are you doing around here?”
Thomas stared into the man’s eyes
, and he felt a cold emptiness in them. Something he recognized in his own reflection the few times he’d seen it since he began his journey. “I grew up in the town near here, Spring. I was attending college at USC in Los Angeles when the kids started getting sick. Then once everything fell apart I...” Thomas paused and cleared his throat. He wasn’t expecting to get choked up like this, but he’d spent so long trying to forget about where he came from, he forgot how raw the memories were. He never let them heal, just locked them up until he grew used to the pain. “I didn’t have any reason to stay in Los Angeles anymore, so I decided to start making my way home.” Thomas still didn’t want to tell Mark his true reasons for returning.
“I’m sorry, Thomas. We’ve all lost people, and it never really gets easier, does it?”
Thomas shook his head and took a deep breath. “No, it doesn’t.”
“Los Angeles must’ve been chaos. Surprised you got out of there alive.”
“It was,” Thomas said, growing uneasy at how easy the conversation was becoming. He was still tied to a chair after being knocked unconscious. He couldn’t let himself get too comfortable around these people. Humankind turned into a different breed once they lost the children, and he couldn’t trust Mark no matter how good of a conversationalist he was. “My first month and a half were spent just trying to get out of the city.”
“How many people did you kill?” Mark asked. He stood back and crossed his arms.
Thomas recoiled at the question and his heart skipped a beat. “Excuse me?”
“That’s my second question Thomas. How many people did you kill? And don’t tell me the answer is zero. I know that’s a lie.”
The faces flashed in Thomas’ mind’s eye like they did most days. He clenched his fists and grit his teeth, trying to end the slideshow of death. “Forty-two,” he answered, looking down at the ground.
The Children Are Not People [Short Story] Page 1