Eschaton (The Scott Pfeiffer Story Book 1)

by Shane Woods

  I turned my full attention back, seeing Tony taking a knee to elevate the angle of his shots and keep Melissa in the clear.

  Then time began to move again. Not slowly falling back into focus, but more as if I had been pulled by the undertow of a mighty sea swell, only to have another wave bury me in a breathless fury of movement.

  Melissa ran, they ran, we fired. Pieces of shoulder and brick flew from one creature, and one wall. It did nothing to ease the chase. Another’s chest exploded outward from a rifle round in the chest, and the forward motion of its stumble actually seemed to accelerate its gait. I squeezed again, three times, more brick erupted from the building and my third shot only grazed a skull as my gun locked open.

  In the bare moment it took to reload my weapon, and for Tony to pump his dry, we lost. The lead freak reached Melissa’s back, latched on, and she fell in a heavy heap. They slid together on the pavement as the other three reached her, and the first took a chunk square out of the center of her back before their motion even ceased.

  My throat hoarse, my mouth open, the realization that we had not won this one hitting me, I continued dumping round after round into the backs, shoulders, and heads of the disgusting forms gathered around her. I struck two in the heads, and they fell over her in heaps as the others gorged themselves, blood arcing its way into the air in misty spurts.

  One monster lifted its head and looked our way, the remaining section of its jaw moving hungrily and packed full of meat and scraps of pink t-shirt. Tony wasted no time in vaporizing the horrifying visage with another heavy round of fire, turning his attention to the last one.

  Melissa began convulsing, her head jerking, and though we couldn’t tell if it was from pain or infection, we knew at once that there was no coming back for her. All those years of raising her as my own, ever since I’d met my wife. The good and the bad, all gone in one furious instant. I stopped several paces away, and Tony approached from behind, placing his hand on my shoulder. I looked down at the locked slide and empty chamber of my weapon, loaded another magazine, thumbed the slide release, and he stopped me.

  “Nah,” he said firmly. “She’s my niece, and you’re my family. Go inside.”

  I eyed him stupidly, my mouth hanging open, and he repeated his order to get in the building. I complied.

  I walked numbly several steps away, head down, and heard the start of a much smaller-than-usual shriek of the infected, and a single shot silencing it.

  I fell to my knees, right there among the blood, brick fragments, glass, and other debris. I dropped and cried. My eyes burning now as much as my throat. I looked up and found my wife to be in much the same position, the same condition, and Henry doing his best to comfort her from one side, Dave to the other.

  Tony came and helped me back to my feet and led me to the front door, his expression solemn. Not one word was spoken as I helped my wife to her feet, wrapped my arms around her, and supported her as she collapsed into heavy sobs against my chest.

  The light of the day soon mostly vanished as Henry’s SUV moved across the entrance. The others milled around as we wept quietly together. A twin pillar of sadness in the middle of a crowd.

  ELEVEN

  I awoke, but I didn’t open my eyes yet. I had no idea where I was, and the pain raging through my head was excruciating. I felt something land on my leg. At least, I think it landed. Hit? Impacted? Then the sensation of whatever…it… was, crawling its way up my torso.

  This is it, I thought, this is how it ends. One of those freaks has me and…fuck it. Take me.

  I felt something warm, wet, and slimy drag its way across my face. Was it…licking me? What kind of fresh hell is this?

  The weight of the form on top of me became heavier on my chest.

  SLAP!

  “Da-DA! We GO! DA-DA!”

  It was Gwen. Jesus Christ and all that is holy, it was Gwen. Where are we?

  I opened my eyes a bit, sunlight streaming in through the cracks of the blinds. My toddler perched on my chest like a bird of prey inspecting its kill, and the mess of dark blonde hair that could only be my wife, lying next to me.

  Inspecting the little one, I found the wet, sticky sensation. Yup, I’d been clobbered with a small hand loaded with drool. Two-year molars suck, both for child and parent.

  Then, one by one, and carried by the medium of a heavy hangover, the memories of the night before came flying in, like cyclists crossing the finish line. The clearing of the building. Retrieving my family and friends. Moving our things into our new home. Then, Melissa. Oh, God, Melissa, I’m so sorry.

  I let out a long groan as I began mentally encouraging myself to move, my stomach lurching at the mere thought of such action. I remember losing it. We left the entryway, and a handful of us made it to the roof. My friends in mourning with us, while offering support. Trying to joke to lighten the evening. Somebody showed up with a handle of Jack, that’s 1.75 liters of Jack Daniels for those who missed their party phase, and Jennifer and I hogged the majority of it. I’m fairly certain we also helped smoke a couple of those funny looking cigarettes that Tony and Dave always had.

  The night was a blur, probably not the proper way to mourn, and no way to tell if it eased the pain yet, but it was what we had.

  Little Gwen lost faith in Daddy returning to this plane of existence and moved onto Mommy instead. She repeated the same process, and, upon getting her bearings, my wife wrapped the small child in a hug and began to sob while she whispered love to the toddler.

  I started getting up, out of whoever’s bed I occupied, and nearly as soon as my feet hit the floor, I grabbed the nearby waste bin and began retching into it. With not much in my stomach, it was not what you would call a fun thing to do.

  Jennifer, finally sitting up, wiping her eyes, moved in next to me. Without a word, she slid her Gwen-free arm around me and buried her face into my shoulder.

  “I’m so sorry,” I started, burying my face in my hands. “I should have- “

  “No,” she stated firmly, cutting me off. “We’re not doing the blame thing. It was the monsters. The freaks, mutants, whatever. You did your best. Everybody did.”

  “I can’t accept that,” I retorted, voice flattened. “I should have seen it co- ”

  “Goddammit!” She snapped, “Stop it, Scott. You did literally all you could. I’ve got to get Gwen changed. You want to blame something? Blame the monsters. Remember her every time you kill one of them.”

  I had no answer and gave just as much. I was still numb inside. Jennifer got up and left the room with Gwen. Once she opened the door, the sounds of chatter and the smell of some kind of food flooded the small bedroom. The smell brought another dry heave, and, a few minutes later, I dragged myself along the wall and into the kitchen, where Tony, Dave, Shannon, and Carolyn sat, a lively conversation going and several M.R.E.’s laid out on the table. All the meals were Menu 20, breakfast. Well, the best way to beat a hangover is to hydrate, and pack that gut full of heavy food. If military Meals Ready to Eat didn’t fit the latter, nothing but prison nutraloaf would.

  “Holy fuck, it’s alive!” Tony exclaimed.

  “Doesn’t smell that way,” Dave commented, and was met by soft laughter.

  I ignored the comments, sat at the table, and began preparing my MRE. Moments after adding water, it began to heat up, and soon, I was shoveling spoonfuls into my mouth. I hadn’t even realized until I’d slammed a whole meal, and two bottles of water, that the whole table had fallen silent.

  Tony was the first to speak up.

  “Look, man, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t talk about it. There’s a time to mourn and apologize, right now, we need to get things in motion.”

  Shannon got up from her spot at the table, cleared the debris from everyone’s meal, and went into the second bedroom to talk to Jennifer. Rich came in and asked to borrow Carolyn, and she left as well.

  Leaning back in the chair, I grabbed one of my cigars and retrieved the ever-present cutte
r and lighter from my pocket. I snipped the end off with the cutter, held the end to be lit over the flame for a moment, then lit it and inhaled.

  “How did I get down here?” I asked, through a blast of smoke.

  “You’re a heavy fucker,” Dave replied vaguely, lighting a cigarette.

  “Yeah man,” Tony added. “You just kind of stood up, and then you fell over, puked on the roof, and started snoring.”

  “That explains that,” I grunted. “Who’s bed was that?”

  “Don’t know,” they replied, nearly in unison.

  I gave another grunt and took another pull from the cigar. A cheap Dominican, one of my daily smokers, but it beats cigarettes. I hate those things, and only smoke it when what I consider to be a real smoke isn’t available.

  “Well,” I started, “we need to get a plan moving. This is home now, but it’s not safe. Let’s get everyone together, say, in the hallway outside of Shannon’s place?”

  “Works for me,” Tony said.

  “We’ll start getting people gathered together down there,” Dave added.

  “I’ll be down in thirty,” I stated.

  With that, my two friends departed, and Shannon and Jennifer returned to the room. Jennifer began preparing a meal for her and Gwen. Shannon, having heard the conversation, left to begin getting people gathered up as well.

  “You alright?” I asked Jennifer. She simply shook her head, a single tear falling down her cheek.

  “Yeah, me either,” I offered. “We can’t dwell, I think. If we don’t get moving and make this place survivable, it’ll have gone for nothing. She’ll… have gone for nothing. I’m going to lay this place out real sweet, we all will. It’ll be in her memory, then.”

  Jennifer just nodded and began feeding Gwen. We continued to sit there and made the smallest of small talk while they ate. After, she cleaned up the mess, and followed me down to Floor Six.

  TWELVE

  Down on the sixth floor, everybody present was gathered loosely in the hallway. The apartment doors all opened, and several candles burned, providing enough light to make it suitable for a group meeting, but not much more. I had noticed several present would not meet my eyes. I didn’t let it bother me. They could feel guilty, unsure, insecure, I couldn’t really care less.

  “We need to make this place to live a home,” I opened up. “We need security, and sustainability. My group can’t do it on our own, so I’m asking everyone to pitch in.”

  “Excuse me,” Parker piped up, “but I don’t think we even asked for your presence, much less voted you as leader!”

  “I never said I was the leader, Parker,” I retorted, “but so far, we’ve opened up your one solitary floor into a whole building. We’ve multiplied the available supplies nine-fold in doing so and brought the security of several people with more guns than we can possibly carry, all who know how to use them. We. Not me. Does anybody else want to step up and take the reign?”

  Nobody stepped forward. Most of the people gathered shook their heads in the negative.

  “Tell me, Parker,” I continued, “What would be your plan? How would you bolster the food supplies for… almost twenty people? Water is a finite supply, as well. How would you go about getting it stored in advance, so we don’t run out? How would you back up the security of the building? Whose talents would be best used where, Parker?”

  Parker simply shrank back, the fight in him leaving.

  “Where do we start?” To my surprise, it was Shannon who asked the first question.

  “Shelter. The first item to covet when surviving. We have it, but how to make it sustainable, and safe? Ideas?”

  A murmur began to spread throughout everyone, most seeming to be surprised to be included, their opinions polled. Then ideas started coming out, most of them leaning towards building a wall of some sort. Other options came spilling forth. Somebody, I think it was Rich, going by the unique voice, suggested a moat. A fucking moat. Really? Cut the power off and we move back to kings and castles?

  “Actually,” Tony piped up, stealing the moment, “a moat of sorts isn’t a bad idea, but we shouldn’t waste water on it. What about a deep dry moat?”

  “Could build it outside the wall at a later point. Line it with punji sticks,” James suggested.

  “We’d need to locate and bring in some kind of equipment,” I admonished. “That will have to come later, we have bigger matters, but it will stay in the top half of the list. I like it. First, the wall. Materials.”

  More murmurs shot through the group, except for Chris, who remained largely silent. Finally, he spoke up.

  “Take fences from houses. Privacy, chain link, all that shit.”

  “He’s got an idea there. We could layer them and build them up real nice like,” Henry agreed.

  “Sounds like a plan so far. We’ll set up a team, maybe ten of us in the morning. Leave some here to hold down the fort, I’ll go with the outbound. I won’t ask anyone to do anything I wouldn’t take part in.” Then, I added, “Calories and hydration are a concern for work teams though. We’ll spend three days, get as much fence as we can torn down and put back up. Then, we run through the South Building, bolster our supplies, and get back to work on fencing.”

  “How big are we building this thing?” Rob, the computer guy asked.

  “Big as we can, I’d imagine,” James opined.

  “Big enough to circle both buildings, and probably at least to the streets on all sides,” I suggested, “preferably the opposite side of the street or further. It would be smart to leave as much open ground as possible between the wall and the buildings, just in case.”

  “We could stretch it to the river over there,” the blonde we’d met the day before added.

  “That’s a good idea,” I said supportively. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we ever got your name.”

  “It’s okay,” she said with a beaming smile, “you guys were rushed. I’m Briana, just call me Bri.”

  “Well, that’s a damn good idea, Bri,” I said.

  “Yeah nice,” Tony agreed. “Keeps us in clean water, but we don’t know if those fuckers can swim. Might be wise to chain-link that section and put in a heavy gate.”

  “Man’s got a point,” James remarked.

  “Yeah, for sure,” I agreed, “no loopholes.”

  “So, what do we do for the rest of today?” Dave asked.

  “We start checking this place out in detail,” I replied. “I’d like to see the top floor used for command and administration. We could reserve it for meetings and shit and build it up real nice. Maybe the eighth floor for supply storage. The rest for living, with Floor One sealed up, and Floor Two left empty for now. Keep it clean for security purposes.”

  As everyone began to disperse, Tony clapped his hand over my shoulder, and cheerily said to me, “Well, you don’t want it, but it looks like you’re leading this now!”

  “Don’t,” I warned him. “Don’t do that, fuck head.”

  Tony walked away smiling, trailed by a laughing Dave. Those two. God what am I going to do with such a crew? The best we can, I guess. I think we’ve got this one.

  FOURTEEN

  We spent the rest of that day moving everything around the entire building. Beds and couches were removed from the top two floors and dispersed into several mostly empty rooms throughout the structure. All food, cleaning products, drinks, and much more were brought up to the eighth floor, with anything having gone to spoil moved outside, with plans to take it to the river and send it downstream. I highly doubt anyone else would be along the way to mind if a wooden pallet stacked with rotten vegetables and spoiled milk floats on past. I hoped.

  The ninth floor was set up with most of the rooms containing various types of desks from throughout the building, and one apartment had actually been made into a meeting room by ripping out the walls for the two bedrooms, thus creating a much larger space in which several tables were pushed together to make a pseudo-conference table. Other whole apartments h
ad been stripped, walls roughly removed, to be patched in later to make more large spaces to open it up and allow for several people to work in each space at once.

  The eighth floor was undergoing a truly special process. Plans were laid, and some underway, to open up much of the floor via different doorways knocked straight through the walls, creating a place with many rooms for storage of everything we had, all able to be accessed directly. More talk was being had about making a sort of ‘office’ near the stairwell entrance and bolting the door at the other end of the hallway shut to keep the place secured.

  All in all, it seemed as though the group was actually having fun laying it out. I have to admit, it’s kind of cool. Imagine, how would you lay out a pair of buildings to survive the end of the world and keep you and yours safe, effective, and efficient? Most importantly, to me, everyone was already working together. A few didn’t seem to want to pull their weight, but I never even had to mention it, as the other members of the group got them going good and strong.

  We all rounded out the evening by having a meal together. It was Shannon’s suggestion, and all of our agreeance, that everyone ate as a group. Breaking bread together and all that. Dinner was a blast for most, though it consisted of a mix of MRE contents, as well as some canned food that had been heated to lukewarm by the MRE heaters. It wasn’t great fare, but it was edible, and better than nothing.

  Given some downtime, a point in the day in which there was little to focus on and occupy our minds, myself, Jennifer, and even Tony fell into somber moods. The loss of Melissa still weighing heavily on the three of us. Jennifer’s daughter, my step-daughter, and every bit as good as a niece to Tony. This would surely be a wound that only time would heal.

  We could see the occasional freak running, or walking, through the area. A couple of times the entire group collectively held our breaths as one would approach the front entrance, only to reappear within minutes heading in another direction, obviously not finding anything of interest, or at least not a way to get to it. Henry’s SUV was still firmly set longways against the front of the building, various debris shoved underneath it to effectively seal off the front of the building.