The Rising Ash Saga | Book 2 | Falling Embers

by Westerman, R. G.

  She worked steadily, tying red tape along the corners all around the room, placing mannequins at the edges to create the macabre illusion of flaming torsos. I stay, but keep my distance. Her work here feels like something which should not be interrupted, something ceremonial, in a way.

  “You know,” she says, turning back toward me after her last task. “I was in this very building when the shit hit the fan.”

  “Were you?”

  “Yeah.” Her eyes grow distant. “Down that very hallway. I didn’t even know at first what had happened. Barely watched any teevee most days. Then people started calling in sick. Three on the first day. I just thought they’d gone out drinkin’. But then the next day ten more didn’t show. By the fourth day I had no one to run the place.

  “I called in to corporate to get approval for the temp replacements, and no one answered. It just kept going to a busy signal. No one answered. I went home that day. Came back the next morning. Same story. No one showed. Took me a whole week to realize something had happened.

  “And, here, I’d missed the whole thing. Wadn’t till a whole horde of nasties came up over the horizon that I realized the shit had indeed hit the fan.”

  I see the memory of it on her face. “What did you do?” I ask.

  She chuckled, shaking her head. “I bunked up. Once I realized they couldn’t get past the front door, I took some time to barricade the entrances. With the warehouse upstairs, I’ve got more than enough supplies.” She reaches out, tapping the flat of her palm against the wall. “A real bonafide fortress right under my feet.”

  “You’ve been here ever since?”

  “Yep. Couldn’t have built a better place to ride out the apocalypse.”

  “What’s next?”

  “I dunno. Been doing fine so far. No need to change what ain’t broken.”

  “No… I meant… The room. What’s next to finish, setting up the room.”

  “Oh, right!” she exclaims, glancing around. “It’s done. Yeah. They walk in the front door. Hit the trip wire and boom, flaming torsos coming from all directions.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Effective.”

  “More than you know. Come on. Soup should be done by now.”

  An hour later, we strip the meat from the bones of the boiled rabbits after they cooled on the counter. After shredding the meat back into the broth, she popped open a can of carrots and peas, letting them simmer. She pours a bowl for each of us, handing one over to me before settling into her chair across from me.

  “Why me?” I ask.

  “Why you, what?” she replies around a bit of food.

  “Why’d you bring me in and not them?”

  “Ah.” She takes another bite. “I don’t know. You just kind of get a sense after a while. Besides, I don’t let in the menfolk. First couple of years I did my best to help anyone who crossed my path. But after a while I started to notice a pattern.”

  “Yeah? What kind of pattern?”

  “I figured out pretty quickly, there were two types of travelers. Some are just looking for a way station, a place to rest up, refill their water bottles. Maybe take a day or two off their feet, that kind of thing.”

  “And the other?”

  “The other,” she chuckles. “The other kind… They want to take what you have. For no other reason than because you have it and they don’t.”

  “And that’s what inspired the flaming torsos?” I ask.

  “No. No, I didn’t come up with that until about three years ago. First I tried to fight them off. Got plenty of weapons in this place. Did alright at first, but the noise drew more trouble than I could handle.”

  “Zombies.”

  “Yep. Zombies.”

  “I lost my weapons I guess,” I say. “I’m assuming I didn’t have any on me when you found me.”

  “No, hun. I’m afraid not.”

  “Figures. I had a crossbow. Worked like a charm.”

  She stands up and takes my empty bowl, placing them both on the counter. “You know what?” she says. “Come with me. I got something to show you.”

  “Alright.”

  We walk down the center aisle toward the back of the warehouse. It feels like a mile at least, though I know it’s far less. The forced perspective, the straight lines of the shelving stretching ahead, makes the space feel surreal.

  “Here we are,” she says once we arrive at the back wall, dimly lit by the remnants of sunlight struggling to break through the shadows. “For a while I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I started cataloging the inventory. Got most things separated out. Figuring out what I can use and so forth. This here’s where I keep the weapons. Guns, knives, crossbows. Take your pick.”

  It is glorious, the feast of weaponry displayed before me. Gleaming metal, polished wood reflecting the sparse illumination.

  Alongside the massive collection of handguns, hunting rifles, and semi-automatics, the wall contains blades, arrows, and more melee weapons than I have seen in one place.

  “Wow,” I murmur. “Where did all this come from?”

  “Just part of the inventory,” she replies. “This warehouse moved more supplies during my lifetime than I can count. We happen to supply a major chain of sporting goods on the east coast. I couldn’t have stocked this place better if I’d planned for it.”

  “I’d say so.”

  She glances me over and an amused smile plays across her face. “You help yourself to whatever you need. I’m going to go ahead and do my rounds.”

  I still have my knife, ignored and strapped to my ankle during my time with the undead, but I add another for good measure. The selection of crossbows is not quite as large as that of the hunting rifles, but there is still much to choose from. I take stock of each one, lifting it to my eye and feeling the weight of it in my hands until I find the right one.

  Perfect fit against my shoulder with a strap around my chest, resting snug on my back. I smile briefly, looking forward to breaking this one in.

  The lights flicker, just like they had done before. Dottie calls out to me from across the warehouse. “We got company!”

  “Again?” I reply.

  “To the roof, double time!”

  We are met with a view of three, two men and one woman, running at full tilt toward the front of the warehouse. Dottie peers through the scope, switching immediately to the binoculars for a closer look.

  “Holy shit,” she mutters as she squints through the viewfinder. “I know them.” She stands up, waving her arms overhead. The woman edges ahead by a few feet, cheeks red with exertion.

  “Bogies coming in behind us, Dot!” she calls. “We need a door!”

  “Down front! I’ve got you covered!” Dottie calls back, swinging her weapon into place, aiming for the forest line. Within seconds the zombies emerge, half a dozen moving at a surprising speed, keeping pace with their quarry in herky-jerky steps. Dottie focuses, closing her other eye and taking aim.

  “Wait!” I say, placing my hand on her shoulder. The unmistakable faded yellow dress differentiates Penny from the others, shuffling at a steady clip at the back of the cluster, her gait just as determined as the rest of them.

  “You wanna tell me what I’m waitin’ for?” Dottie snaps.

  “Just…” I scramble to find the right words. “Get your friends inside. I’ll handle the rest of them.”

  Dottie hesitates, eyeing me with suspicion. She doesn’t move until I pull around my newly acquired crossbow.

  “Go,” I say. “I got this.”

  She disappears down the stairs. I aim, peering through the scope but keeping my finger off the trigger. In this manner, I focus my mind. Reaching desperately for a connection with them. Penny connects first, her frantic wisps of mental abstraction surging into my consciousness.

  “There you are,” I whisper, pushing gently back against her trajectory. She slows her steps, shuffling to a stop. “Okay, now the rest of you.” I reach, a dull ache blooming at the base of my skull. “Come
on…”

  The leading zombie lurches forward, just inches behind the last man running from them. Its jangly arms flailing from his torso, gnashing exaggerated teeth.

  I hear the door open below me, Dottie calling for the people to get inside. I have to slow down the zombies or they won’t make it.

  “Shoot them!” Dottie yells. “Shoot them now!”

  I take aim, still reaching for purchase for the other zombies, desperate to connect. Like tumblers falling into place, the connection opens up.

  The zombies stumble, slowing to a standstill just as the newcomers disappear inside, the door slamming shut. I collapse against the wall, catching my breath as I pull the crossbow to my chest.

  I had held the zombies back just long enough for Dottie to get her people inside.

  Seventeen

  Making my way down the stairs to the warehouse, I hear them before I see them, the newly arrived guests. Voices arguing, tumbling over each other for purchase.

  “What did she do?”

  “Why didn’t she shoot them?”

  “How did she do that?”

  “What happened out there?”

  “Enough!” This one is Dottie, interrupting the melee. “The important thing is, you got inside. Now, I imagine y’all are wanting something to eat?”

  “Dot,” the woman says, speaking quieter now. “She stopped them, but she didn’t shoot them. How did she do it?”

  Dottie does not reply. I wait until they move into the living area before I emerge from the staircase. They all appear road weary, but still flushed from the adrenaline of the chase.

  The woman sits across from Dottie, long dusty blonde hair pulled into a low ponytail. One of the men, the fairer of the two, sits on the corner chair, perched at the edge, eyes darting between the two women.

  The other man paces behind them, stretching out his arms and occasionally shaking one leg and then the other. Working out the adrenaline. I’ve done a similar routine myself on occasion.

  When I emerge from the shadows of the staircase, they fall silent at the sight of me, each looking at me with wary, suspicious eyes. Dottie had dished each of them out a bowl of food, all of which sit untouched on the table.

  “Come on,” she gestures me over. “It’s alright. Ash, this here’s Sadie, Rodge, and Ian. I’ve known these three for near as long as the world’s been done. Come on and have a seat. You may want to hear what they have to say.” I do so, feeling like a specimen under a microscope more so than I had in a long time.

  “Things are bad out there,” Sadie says. “I’m going to tell you right now, I’ve seen a lot of things. But I ain’t never seen anything like what you just did out there. But if Dottie says you’re okay, then I guess you’re okay.”

  “I appreciate it,” I reply, meeting her gaze. “How bad is it out there?”

  The woman picks up the bowl in front of her, taking a few large bites before speaking again. “We’ve been as far as the Mississippi before we turned back. Everything west of the river is gone, overtaken by those things as far as the eye can see. If there’s any survivors over there, they’re on their own.”

  Dottie nods, her forehead drawn together. The pacing man takes a seat, and everyone finally turns their attention to their food.

  Sadie continues. “We see pockets of survivors out and about this side of the mountains. They all say the same thing. The zombies are getting faster, pooling together in larger hordes than before. It’s hard to say what’s caused the differences. They’re evolving somehow. It’s rather unsettling.”

  “I know what’s caused it,” I say. “Or rather, who.”

  Everyone’s eyes snap in my direction.

  “The woman in the tower?” Sadie asks.

  “Yes,” I reply. “How do you know?”

  This time Rodge speaks up. “As we’ve gotten closer to this area we’ve heard tell of her behavior. People gone missing, turning up after, but… turned. You know.”

  “Turned?” Dottie asks.

  “Yeah,” Sadie nods. “Turned into one of them, but different even than what we’ve seen. Like those out there, faster, meaner. It’s been gotten harder to get away from them. Harder to keep away from them.”

  “Like the ones outside,” Dottie says, turning her gaze toward me with a knowing expression.

  “Yeah,” I say, nodding. “Like the ones outside.”

  The other man, Ian, broke his silence, speaking in a tense high-pitched voice, leveling his gaze in my direction. “Anybody want to explain to me what happened out there? Why did they stop? What aren’t you telling us?”

  I glance at Dottie. She nods for me to continue. “I stopped them,” I reply. “With my mind.”

  “You did what?” Sadie chimed.

  “See, I know her. She raised me, for lack of a better term. When the virus got loose, some of the people at the laboratory helped me escape. They did this at the cost of their lives. I’ll never be able to pay that back.”

  Sadie’s eyes widen. “I’ve heard of you,” she says. “The Untouchable Girl. Never thought I’d see you do your thing live and in person.”

  “So,” Ian leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Just exactly how do you do your thing?”

  I reach up, placing my fingertips at the base of my skull feeling along the edge of the coin-shaped implant. “She did it,” I reply. “I found her again, this last year. I thought if I confronted her… I don’t know what I thought. But while I was there, she put something in my head that makes me… like them. Makes me connect to them on some kind of level. I don’t even understand it myself really.”

  “Can I see?” Sadie asks.

  I pull my hair aside, revealing the back of my head. She stands and approaches. With tentative fingers she feels where I guide her along the edge of my hairline. The sensation of her touching my neck gives me shivers. I shift my shoulders to hide the fact.

  “About the size of a quarter I’d say,” she says, taking her seat again. “It’s right at the surface, but there’s a lot of nerves right there.”

  “How does it work?” Ian asks.

  “I don’t know,” I reply. “But I think it somehow connects me to them. Mentally. It makes me control them, somehow.” I wonder if they can tell I am leaving out a lot of details.

  “Does it always work?” Rodge asks.

  “No, not always. If I’m weak, like if food is scarce or I haven’t slept enough, it doesn’t work as well.”

  Sadie speaks again. “So, have you been out there since you were a child? How could that be?”

  I shrug. “I just try to get through one day at a time, you know. Keeping to myself most of the time, learning as I go. Foraging, scavenging. I’ve had help along the way. People like Dottie. People out there help each other more often than not.”

  Sadie nods, her eyes soften as she glances towards Dottie. “Yeah. That much is true.”

  “How do you know each other?” I ask.

  “I’ve known Dottie from early on,” Sadie says. “About a year in, I’d say.”

  “That sounds right,” Dottie answers. “It’s hard to keep track of the time anymore. Running from that horde. That was the biggest crowd of them I’d seen up to then. It’s a good thing I saw you when I did.”

  “Some things never change.” Sadie finished her bowl and set it down on the table.

  Ian suppresses a yawn, placing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

  Dottie stands up, brushing her hands across her legs. “You three are probably exhausted. Let me get you set up with a place to sleep.”

  “You still got that shower contraption?” Rodge asks. “I could do with that.”

  “You know I do,” Dottie says with a smile. “Come on. I’ll find you some towels.”

  Dottie gathers up the empty bowls and places them in the sink. She and the others wander toward the interior of the aisles gathering items for their stay. I sneak away, making my way back to the roof.

  There they stand, just at the edge o
f the forest, as still and straight as the tin soldiers in a childhood story I’d once read, no more than five all together.

  Her yellow dress burns bright in the light of the setting sun, stark against the shadowy backdrop of the forest. Her gray, decaying skin appeared almost luminescent in the fading light, sunken cheeks and milky eyes.

  I feel her mental connection almost immediately. Penny reaching out to me, clicking into place. Her proximity remains a wordless void, ever present in my mind, reaching, searching, desperate for something only I can seemingly offer.

  A few minutes later, I sense Dottie approaching behind me. She watches me from a short distance away, hovering at the roof’s door. I already know, under normal circumstances, her eyes would be trained on them, but these are not normal circumstances.

  “Did your friends get situated?” I ask.

  “Yes. I’ll set them up with another sleeping area towards the back. I’ve got a number of futons we can pull out for them. What do… they want?” she asks, her voice betraying the uncertainty of the scenario laid out before us.

  “It’s hard to say, really,” I reply.

  “Do they know you’re here?”

  “I’m sure they do. I don’t know if they meant to find me, but it seems they have.”

  “They’re waiting for you?”

  I turn, glancing at her briefly before casting my eyes to the ground between us. “Oh, yes. They are. Of that there is no doubt.”

  “What will you do?”

  I take a breath to answer her, but lightning strikes, a pain surges through my head. White hot, blinding. Clutching at my temples I fall to my knees, eyes squeezed shut. Dottie nearly catches me, clutching my forearms to steady me.

  “Oh dear, what is this? Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Just one of my headaches. I get them sometimes. It will fade in a minute.”

  “Let’s head back. We’ve still got some hot bone broth. That would do you some good, I’m sure.”

  “No, no. I’m fine, really.” I take a moment, allowing her to steady me back to my feet. “Please. I’m sure your guests are wondering where you’ve gone. I’ll be fine, really. I promise.”