The creatures outside the laboratory doors, drawn by the beacon, press their way through, quickly filling the small space with their acrid stench. I have no choice. I leave her leaning against the doors of the counter.
As I exit the room, I scoop up the handle of the half-empty gasoline canister, push past the zombies, through the door and into the hall leaving a trail of liquid behind me.
At the top of the hall, I pause. The creatures still push past me, as if I am not there, not even attracted by the rattle of the matchbook I pull out of my pouch.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” I say, before I drop the lit match to the floor.
The flames surge forward with a rush of heat, catching the feet of those closest to me. One by one, they erupt in flames, still shoving forward toward the call of the beacon, pieces of burning flesh falling in their wake.
I don’t have much time. The zombies behind me had not yet caught, but it was only a matter of seconds, the way we had come already clogged with more approaching undead.
I take the stairs two at a time, making my way for the level below. Hopefully, the path to the front door remains clear. Behind me, gasoline catches and spreads, crackling, rushing, roaring. I run toward the front doors, feeling the heat building up at my back.
For just a moment, I connect once more, allowing myself to see through their eyes peering down at the Doctor, surrounded in orange and blue flames. Her hair had turned stark white, her eyes milky gray, and still she smiles.
I run, pushing with all my might to get to the front gate before the fire consumes the weight-bearing parts of the building.
Just as I clear the door, engulfed in clean, cold air, the explosion pushes me forward, sending me tumbling onto the rocky ground.
All around, zombies arrive, called by the pulse of the beacon. For every creature arriving, I feel others slip away as they perish in the fire, releasing the connection to my mind like a clipped thread.
I scramble to my feet, ignoring the sting on the palms of my hands where I landed and quickly moving to a safe distance, turning to watch the inferno.
There are thousands of them, all shuffling toward the flaming edifice like moths to a flame. I spot one, standing outside the edge of the fire, close enough to illuminate what’s left of her features.
Penny.
She stands facing away from the flames, standing in contrast to the rest of them marching, marching, marching toward the fire.
“Go,” I whisper. “Go and be at peace.”
Even from this distance, I feel her connecting to my mind, seeking me out among the chaos. This is how I can feel the beacon calling her, controlling her body. She is fighting against it, even in her decayed state.
“Go!” I say out loud, willing the same thought to her in my mind. “There is nothing left for you here!”
She stands, unmoving, while the others walk around her. Most of them catch right away when they reach the heat of the fire. Others smolder in a slow burn, until they are no more.
Finally, finally, Penny turns away, dropping her gaze and walking toward the fire. With a final lurching step, she disappears into the amber inferno.
I stay with her for as long as I can, keeping our mental connection open, seeing the fire through her eyes. As I cling to the damp ground, I feel the heat surrounding her, my cheeks burning as I am the one walking into the pyre.
When I close my eyes, her surroundings come into focus through a milky sheen in my mind’s vision. She follows the others, shoulder to shoulder with her kin, snaking down the hallways, around corners, deeper into the burning building.
Fire leaps along the remaining walls, across the ceiling, ahead, behind.
Everything burns.
Penny walks onward, drawn by the beacon. Her yellow dress catches fire as the flames reach her. The end comes quickly then, as her body succumbs to the heat.
Burning flesh, bones, yet still she moves forward. I feel her mind dissolve at the end, one moment heat, hunger, desire.
The next, nothing.
Penny is gone.
Through it all, she felt no pain.
I cling to the connection for as long as I can, lying there in the cold grass, the night's dew already falling upon me, trying to find an absolution in the void left by her absence.
I find none.
There is nothing left to do but to wait for the fire to burn itself out.
Twenty-Two
They had vacated the farm, hopefully returning to SeaHaven as I had suggested. Maybe, just maybe, Fairlight’s group can integrate into the community there. Hopefully, she and Clarice won’t clash too much. The thought makes me chuckle.
My first instinct is to walk the perimeter, checking the fencing for any kind of breech and finding none.
“Good job, Ezekiel,” I whisper.
Next, I make my way to the tree beyond the garden, broken bones reaching for the sky.
The sight of the graves calms me, two small stones with their names burnt onto each of them. I sit directly between them, crossing my legs and placing my palms against the cold ground.
“One more time,” I say, “I wish I could have seen you just one more time.” I move my hand to the bare earth over Eden’s grave. “I don’t know what to do right now, Eden. I just don’t know. Everything seems so simple to everyone else. Live. Breath. Survive. Sleep. Repeat.” At first, I don’t notice the dampness on my cheeks, not until the tears fall onto the dirt around my fingers.
“I want to be like them, but I’ll always be different. I’m not one of them. I don’t belong there.” I had never said these words out loud before. It feels strange but somehow freeing. “The truth is, I’m lying to them. I’m lying to myself for ever thinking I could have a normal life. Everything I’ve ever done has just been play acting at having a normal life.” I glance up at the setting sun, blazing the sky with blood. “I don’t know if I should go back,” I whisper, my voice betraying my emotion.
A sound interrupts me, a low, ghostly moan just beyond the fence. When I look up, I see Mare, standing there, watching me with her milky eyes.
She tosses her head, like any horse would, except a chunk of flesh falls off her ear as she does, exposing the skull beneath. Her legs have decayed to the bone with thin strips of flesh fluttering in the breeze. She appears top heavy, despite her ribs showing through the sagging skin around her torso.
“Where did you come from?” I say. She only responds with her strange ghostly whinny. I stand up and brush the dirt off my jeans. “You’re looking like you’ve seen better days, my friend.”
When I walk over to the gate, she follows me, shadowing my steps along the fence, twenty feet and two fences separating us. I make sure to close the inner gate behind me before I let her into the causeway. I don’t want to take any chances.
“Hey, Mare,” I murmur, opening the gate to let her through. “Where you been, girl? Why’d you follow me back here? Huh?”
Her presence feels in some strange way like an answer to the question. Leave it to Eden to find a way to send me a zombie horse from the great beyond.
I don’t know if riding Mare will be the best option. She is not in any shape to bear the weight of a human being. She can carry a pack, though. I head back toward the farm, leaving her for a moment in the grassy spaces between the fences.
From the panic room, I collect the medical kits, the dried meats and fruits, and as much of the canned goods as I am able to carry, piling everything into the saddle bags. Dragging it back to her takes some doing, and the heaviness of it makes me grateful for the presence of the horse. She takes the weight with relative ease, stepping her feet slightly wider to distribute the weight.
“There we go,” I say, finding a dry spot on her nose, the skin there shriveled and emaciated, sinking into the skull. Only a fist-sized patch of fur remains. This is the only place I can pet her without getting gunk all over my hand.
“We’ve still got a lot of daylight, Mare. Are you ready to make a trip?”
&nb
sp; After another circle of the property, we exit out the gates once more. I follow the road, the same way we had always gone.
I realize, every time I leave this place, I think it’s the last time. This time it feels certain though.
The creatures roam the landscape in the distance, still following the fiery beacon in the distance. I can’t escape the idea that some small part of me is still controlled by the beacon, just as they are, the part of that is like them.
But ever since Ezekiel had done whatever he had done to my headaches, I had to admit the pull was not as strong. Almost as if he had reset my frequency to something different, not quite undoing the damage done, but at least making me unreachable by Dr. Donovan.
“But she’s dead, isn’t she,” I say out loud, as if Mare had some concern about the issue. “I left her writhing on the floor of a burning building.”
We walk for nearly a day and a half, the full moon providing enough light for us to keep going. Mare could have gone on endlessly, but I at least still required rest. Finally, we stop to make camp deep in the mountains.
Mare lays down on the grassy patch next to the stream, her breathing sounding more wheezy. She had not slowed down at all during the journey. I leave her to rest at the water’s edge while I rifle through the bag, looking for something that might suffice as a meal for her.
Finally, I settle on the jerky, hand feeding her bits of the meat while I eat the dried fruit. Her breathing steadies. I know it is no more than a reflex of her body. She has no need of oxygen, just like the rest of the undead.
I curl up next to her, comfortable in the knowledge that we are the only two sentient creatures on the mountainside, living or otherwise. The ground is dry, and we have a good water source. A different time and I could have made a permanent camp here. Eventually, I drift off to sleep, lulled by the quiet sounds of Mare lying next to me.
The sound of the stream rushing along beside us wakes me, sunlight filtering through the leaves, creating dappled shadows all around us. I lean over, cupping my hands to pull some water to my lips.
My next order of business, inspired by the sound of the water, is to locate a place to relieve myself. I tuck behind a tree a good distance from the stream.
“Okay, Mare. It’s time to go.” I return to her prone body and place one hand gently on her emaciated flank. I feel hardly any movement, but it does not concern me. She is, after all, already dead.
She lifts her head, what’s left of her ears twitch in my direction.
“What’s wrong, girl? What’s the problem?” I do my best to sound comforting. She lays her head back down on the ground, her rib cage heaving up and down in a charade of breathing, a hollow rattle emanating from the cavity. Her rate of decay is such that some of the skin had fallen off during the night. Her journey has come to an end.
The following hours pass by with exhausting brutality, waiting for her to fade away. I stay with her, feeling the remaining energy draining from her body.
It takes such a long time, this kind of death. Giving her a mercy killing would be pointless, since I’d probably miss her cerebellum altogether. Plus, I don’t know enough about horse brains to figure out where it is.
This kind of death is brutal to watch. The undead persons are one thing, but animals are innocent. They do not deserve this, any of it.
Now and then, I whisper quiet words of comfort. It feels strange, because she is already dead, just a remnant, the last dregs of an empty vessel.
By the time the sun sets, Mare is gone.
No big dramatic moment. No gasping or struggling for life, just… gone.
I stay for another few moments, waiting for the darkness to settle in. As twilight deepens, I take the time to cover Mare’s body with leaves and dirt, as I don’t have the resources to properly bury her. It won’t take too much time for her to disappear back into the ground forever.
I take my time in relocating the contents of the saddle bag into my backpack, managing to get nearly everything. The bag feels quite heavy still. If I have to choose, I would take the medical supplies. SeaHaven has plenty of food, but I am not there yet, and who knows what might happen in the meantime.
Traveling through the night and the following day consists of not much more than walking, resting, checking the sky, and more walking. At times, I consider taking off on my own, to go back to living off the land just like I used to do. SeaHaven can go on without me. That much is certain.
But then I think about Thorn. And Alma. Her child and Marcus. They are growing up in a world which no one has seen before.
I reach the edge of the city before dusk of the following day. The silence of the concrete structures belies the slight lift of hope I feel at returning to the community, the bustle of people, smiles, living faces. It still surprises me how quickly I had become so accustomed to this kind of life.
When I round the bend to the parking lot, I am greeted by the goatherder and his large herd. He offers a wave and a hearty greeting, still guiding the animals with the large, thin stick, leading them to the inland grasses for grazing. In the distance, I see the bright blue line of the ocean horizon against the pale sky.
Among the activity of people, I spot Rose at the water’s edge. She has her fishing line set up. Someone calls my name from the other direction, prompting Rose to turn around.
“Ash!” She waves wildly, lowering the fishing line to the post before taking off towards me. I wave back and pick up my pace, setting down my weapon and backpack.
The tiredness from travel lightens for a moment. What is that feeling of lightness? Is this what people refer to as hope?
She grabs me up in a hug, quickly followed by the embrace of others in the community, Clarice, Simeon, Alma. Children come running from their places along the beach, abandoning their schooling for the day. All of this is common practice for the return of any citizen. Cheers and cacophony surround me, overwhelming me.
“You’re okay!” Rose exclaims. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”
“Where is Thorn?” I ask.
“He’s out hunting. He’ll be back soon. He’s going to be so happy to see you.”
Clarice steps in, placing her hands around my shoulders to shield me a bit from the pressing crowd. “Alright everyone. Ash is probably tired. Let us leave her to rest while we prepare the evening feast.”
The mention of food brought another round of cheers, but the hubbub relaxed enough to allow Rose and I to make our way down the beach toward the fire.
“You must be exhausted,” she said. “Come on. We’ve already got some food on the fire.”
I don’t notice the soreness in my muscles until I settle down, sitting on the sand. Rose hands me a portion of roasted shark meat, white, flaky, and cooked just right. She places it on a large green leaf, nestled in with cut bits of baked apples.
I eat without pausing to answer her barrage of questions. Rose can wait. I am back. That’s all that matters right now.
“There’s plenty of fish in the sea, you know, Ash,” Rose says with a chuckle.
Finally, I feel sated enough to give her my attention. “The others made it back?”
“Yes,” she says. “About a week ago. Ezekiel and Fairlight came back with the others. They’re around somewhere, out on their daily rounds, I’m sure.”
“I’m glad they made it. How is everyone adjusting?”
She laughs again, and I realize how much I missed the absolute light which shines from her. That and the full stomach have considerably lifted my spirits. I reach for the backpack, gesturing for Clarice, to show her the supplies I brought from the farm.
“I think there’s someone who wants to see you,” she says in her rich accent, which sounds like warm honey. I glance in the direction she points and spot Marcus down the beach, staring out over the water. The sight of him makes my chest ache.
“Has he spoken since I left?”
“Not yet,” Clarice says, “but he’s watched for you. Every day he waited by the road. If he�
�s not there, he’s staring out at the water. You should go. I don’t think he knows you’re here yet.”
I stand up, making my way out of the gathering by the fire. He has never been the huggy type, but he would get one from me today. I trot towards him with a smile on my face.
“Hey you,” I say, leaning down and scooping him into my arms. He does not pull away, but leaves his arms hanging slack at his sides. I barely notice as he takes a breath I am too caught up in the joy of having him back, of being back.
“They’re coming,” he whispers against my shoulder.
I don’t realize at first the voice is his, so soft and quiet, stilled from the months of disuse. I pull back, looking into his face, unsure of what I have just heard. “Marcus… Did you…?”
He nods, his voice stronger this time. “They’re coming.”
“Oh, Marcus,” I reply. “No. They’re not coming here. I stopped them. We’re safe, Marcus. We’re safe.”
He turns toward the water, holding the same stoic expression as he ever has. I follow his gaze out over the gently lapping water. Across the breaking waves, I see a distant ship shining against the horizon. The islanders, perhaps coming again to bring us coffee and pineapples.
“Well how about that, Marcus?” I whisper, draping an arm around his shoulder. “Looks like we’re going to have a feast tonight after all.”
I stand, taking his hand in mine. Together we walk along the wet sand back toward Clarice and the others, back to the fire pit to share with them the good news. I only hope Thorn returns soon. I can’t wait to see him.
End
Reviews for Rising Ash
“This is a lovely story full of nice vivid imagery. Westerman has a smooth, well developed style and everything clipped along at a good pace. The scene setting/world building is good - make that great - rich and evocative, dropping me right into the world. Quite a feat for an indie author ... “
-Lindsey Williams, Motherhood
The Rising Ash Saga | Book 2 | Falling Embers Page 16