Two Alive

by Jonez, Jeremiah W.

  “That’s not how it goes. We both get one half. One half. And a apple from the garden.”

  Antonio looked at the apples on the table and picked one of them up. All of them seemed to be rotten or with worms and he laughed. “Man, these is all rotten. I ain’t eatin’ these.”

  “Food is food.” Miles climbed from his nest and entered the house. “That’s what the old man would say. We don’t waste food. Eat around it.” He was holding two half eaten apples where he ate around the mold and dark spots.

  Antonio sighed, “Man, then you can eat these. I‘m good.”

  Miles sighed and went to the couch where his clothes and armor were piled and ready for the day. He pulled off his baggy sweatpants and his oversized t-shirt and he started to change outfits. “We have to go check out that Costco now. We have to.” He slipped on his compression shirt and leggings which he wore under his pants and turtleneck. They were sweat resistant and added an extra layer between him and some infected person who might try to bite or scratch him.

  Antonio finished his applesauce and went to get dressed as well. Soon both the brothers were strapping on their boots and loading their packs with guns and ammo. Miles threw his Dragunov over his shoulder along with his backpack, which carried two pistols, two extra clips each, and a clip for his rifle. Antonio had his gold gun in his side holster, and a Glock G19 in his waistband. Two other Glocks were in his pack along with extra clips for the pistols and ammo for the new AR-15 they got from the people yesterday. He slung the weapon on his back, pulled his beanie down on his grown out knotted hair and tied a bandana around his neck.

  They looked out the windows of the treehouse three times each and watched for any movement out in the distance. They made sure to look for anything or anyone that might be wandering through the woods, but most people still out after dark without a good enough shelter didn’t make it through the night. The boys saw it time and time again where people would make camp in the woods and by the next day they’d be gone. They’d either be killed off or fled the campsite and whatever was left, the old man would take Miles and Antonio to scavenge. The infected never lingered in one place for long, especially if they were idle, so by morning they’d usually clear out with nothing to do.

  Miles’ checked his perch for a third time then the two brothers went to pull up the heavy boulder to the top of the tree, this time both of them wearing thick construction gloves. They used the shuttle to lower themselves to the ground, notch by notch with the lift’s rope. They jumped out the lift then pulled it back up, holding the rope taut as they anchored it and lassoed the line around the tree trunk. They covered the cable with mud and dirt to hide it.

  Miles knelt in the small grass under the tree, pulled a rosary from under his shirt and closed his eyes as he started a soft prayer. Antonio sighed and after enough time standing alone and feeling awkward, he took a knee; kneeling beside Miles as he often did. It was something the old man had them do, every time before they left the hideaway. But since he’d been gone, they now only did it out of ritual and repetition. Miles never really prayed in the conventional way but each time he felt the need to say something to try and mimic what the old man would say. It was just random statements asking about what they needed to find or asking for protection.

  “God. Watch over us. Umm… cuz we need food. So we need to find some food,” Miles whispered and chattered incoherently in the quiet of the morning woods. The only sounds besides Miles’ soft voice was the rolling wind that was sweeping up leaves around the two brothers. “And we have to do laundry later when we come back. Also the sun came up and we still breathing so that’s good.” Miles paused and started to rock, “And we want to stay alive for the rest of the day. Help us through one more day.”

  Antonio repeated the last line to himself. It was something the old man said often to end his prayers. He usually led the prayer and he would do a lot better than Miles. But that didn’t stop the boy from trying to say something. Antonio never felt the need to say anything. But he seemed to repeat the old man’s line when Miles finished. The two brothers stood up and Miles brushed off his knees before putting the brown rosary necklace back inside his shirt.

  “Aite, let’s get outta here.” Antonio started walking away from the tree with a pep in his step.

  Miles followed soon after, feeling the weight of his pack and tightened his straps. Then he pulled out his phone, looked at the cracked black screen and put it back in his pocket. A short walk later and the two boys dug up their bikes that they buried under leaves, tucked behind bushes. After the brothers cleared them off, Miles took the mountain bike and Antonio took the cruiser. They both hopped on and started to pedal and Miles went in front to take the lead.

  The woods were still, they usually were in the early morning. Lurkers and normal people never came out when the brothers started their day. The sun had barely reached the full of the forest and some areas still had fog lingering. It was an eerie quiet that might have bothered the average person, but Miles actually enjoyed these quiet mornings, whereas Antonio was hitting a wheelie and making car noises as he zipped back and forth. They made their way up a hill and over some rocks before coming on a river hidden in a glade.

  Miles took a plastic water bottle from the small pouch on his backpack and filled the container in the rushing stream. Antonio did the same, drinking from his bottle twice when he filled it halfway. He was laughing and carelessly spilling all over the place. Water wasn’t as much a necessity as food, with this small brook that the old man found when they stumbled onto the tree house. The biggest issue was having to keep the waterway hidden from travelers. The last people to come around this way, got their water and moved on. But two times before, the old man had to run people off who were trying to hoard the canal. It was ironic really. The old man didn’t want people trying to keep the river to themselves, but that was exactly what he had been doing. Miles took a sip from his bottle and the brothers went back to their bikes, starting on their way again.

  They rode their bikes for five miles and then hid them under a mound of leaves behind a fallen street sign. While looking over the map they had, a few lurkers started to creep out into the street. Antonio went to meet them, eager to start his count for the day. He pulled his knife free from his waistband, and lifted the bandana around his mouth and nose. One stab and then another took out two freaks with small effort. A simple knife to the temple or enough blunt force trauma to the brain could take out a stalled lurker easy enough. But the brothers made it look easy from years of practice. Antonio was calling over his shoulder to Miles, counting the two he took out. The younger brother folded up the map and went to help with the last of the slow moving groaning monsters.

  Miles grabbed and shoved the creeper aside and used his blade to stab the now wailing dunce. He counted one to himself and was already jealous that Antonio was starting the day in the lead. He hated odd numbers. It always meant someone would have more kills than the other. But he’d rather face only three lurkers instead of six. Then came number four, rambling out into the street. Miles jumped at the opportunity to get his second lurker kill and tie things with his brother.

  The last infected tweaker was twitching and biting at the air. It staggered slowly with a lethargic will that made it seem just as likely to walk away rather than to try beating Miles to death. Its hair was knotted and caked with leaves and mud. The teeth in its mouth were jagged and broken; this one was probably an eater, judging by the flesh still in between its gums. The other infected, dead on the ground now, had most likely been bit by this one standing in front of Miles. It was wearing what was left of its tattered clothes and one shoe. Then Miles saw something in its eyes and the creature really looked at the boy.

  Antonio bumped past Miles and was looking to steal his brother’s kill, “You ain’t tryna catch up? I was tryna let you get this last one but--”

  The infected freak threw its head back and hollered at the top of its lungs. A scream that was so jarring, Miles was
frozen by the shout. Antonio reacted and ran at the monster and knocked it down. Stab after stab, Antonio brought his knife down a dozen times to make sure to stop the creature from screaming. It finally went silent and Antonio looked around with a serious focus, scanning the tree line.

  “Miles, get the fuck down!” Antonio shouted, not able to see what was behind him.

  Miles dropped down and held his knife as he surveyed the area just as Antonio was. “Did you see that? Did you see it?”

  “Shhhh!” Antonio shushed him and Miles lowered his voice.

  “I saw it change! It went from lurker to siren! I saw it! I saw it change! It changed!”

  “That don’t fuckin’ matter right now! You see anything? Do you see anything?”

  The two brothers spun around several times and checked for any movement or any sound, with their panic slowly starting to subside. If anything was in the area, it would have been on them by now. Sirens were notorious for having packs and hives of lurkers follow them simply for the sound. These infected would literally scream their heads off if you didn’t get on them quick; Miles had seen it twice before. But if you didn’t stop it, all kinds of infected freaks would come flocking to the area like a swarm of locusts, wrecking everything. Miles had seen that happen twice too. It was always best to either steer clear of a siren or take it out immediately and flee the area.

  “C’mon, we gotta go.” Antonio stayed low and went slinking towards the broken sign and his bike.

  “We can’t take the bikes to Costco. They’d hear the bikes coming,” Miles whispered.

  “Fuck Costco! We gotta go! Now!”

  “That siren just turned. I saw it change. I saw it. It couldn’t have any other lurkers attached to it yet.”

  “Miles, we ain’t takin’ that chance.”

  The two brothers looked at each other. Antonio sighed before he went to stand in front of Miles. In unison, they started to shake their fist in front of each other and repeat, “Rock, paper, scissors.” After a quick two out of three, Miles won the game and his decision to press on was the plan. It wasn’t the most diplomatic way to settle a debate, but rock, paper, scissors, still was their go-to when faced with arguing over what to do next. The old man chose this rather than having to constantly be the tie breaker for the brother’s disputes. Whoever won the best of three would call the shots and everyone would go along with their plan, no matter how risky.

  “What the fuck?! We really doin’ this? Even the old man would say no to stick around here after findin’ a siren. We shouldn’t be going to this place anyway.”

  Miles put in his earbuds and took out his phone.

  “I know you can hear me! We. Should. Go. Back!” Antonio watched Miles continue walking and he sighed deeply. Then he reluctantly followed.

  On the road, the brothers ran into another group of staggering lurkers that brought both of their kill counts to five apiece. Things were even and Miles was visibly pleased by this. The next group of lurkers though were too many for the boys to take on confidently, so they quickly hid behind the trees and let the large collective move on. There were half a dozen long-term, infected people in the stumbling crowd with the freshly changed monsters moving swiftly in front. A camp must’ve just fell nearby, judging from the large number of fresh gimps with torn mouths, bite marks and scars showing through tattered clothes.

  Then after a five-minute trek through the woods, Antonio found a line of bottles set for an alarm system, and a hole in the links where lurkers probably got through. Miles found a trip wire that they easily avoided. then they found the tents and sleeping bags camped around a dead fire pit. They also found the gutted remains of some woman who had been torn apart and splayed over a rock. A man whose head had been bashed in from behind. And a couple dead inside their SUV that was stuck in a ditch. Miles stood over an infected little girl who, even after losing her legs, was still crawling on the ground and trying to grab at him. The campsite was a disaster still littered with lingering lurkers.

  “Damn. Sucks for them.” Antonio scoffed and picked up a heavy stick from the ground. He bludgeoned one lurker as it tried reaching out for him, then searched the creature’s body when it fell. “Six.” He counted.

  Miles brought his knife down on the girl but didn’t have the heart to go through her pockets. Besides, she didn’t seem likely to be carrying anything worth keeping.

  “Miles, get them out of here while I check the tents.” Antonio gestured at the four remaining creeps who were making their way towards the brothers.

  “Why do I gotta do it?”

  “You the one that wanted to come out here! Distract them thangs while I check.”

  Miles just sighed and started waving his hands in the air and calling for the lurkers’ attention. The monsters barked and growled and aimed their killing intent at the shouting boy. Miles went off deeper into the woods and clapped his hands to keep the lurkers interested. One still drifted off and went after Antonio but he made short work of the creature with the stick he was holding onto. Then he went to work and started checking the tents that were torn open. He turned over sleeping bags, went through pillowcases and emptied out bags. He found a can of beets, gross, and a pair of water bottles but not much else.

  Whoever survived this massacre, managed to make off with the bulk of anything useful. Either that, or this camp never had anything useful. After Antonio broke a window and checked the couple inside the car, he only found an empty revolver and two shell casings from the bullets they used on themselves. He still pocketed the gun.

  When he climbed back out of the car and slammed the door, he went over to check the little girl that he noticed Miles didn’t frisk. It was always weird to see an infected child, but they had seen enough to be use to it by now. The old man would have reminded them that this is what happens when you’re not careful. Antonio found a small pocket knife in the little girl’s back pocket and decided to tuck the tool in his boot.

  Miles came jogging up soon after. “Did you find anything?”

  “Not really. They didn’t have shit. Lurkers must’ve got them in the middle of the night.”

  “They had an alarm though. They… they had an alarm. What happened? They didn’t hear it? Was somebody bit? They were human first right? Did lurkers infect somebody?”

  “Shit, I don’t know. Lurkers got ‘em, somebody was already bit, I don’t know Miles. But if anyone was still normal, they took all the shit and bounced.”

  Miles looked around, still trying to catch his breath. “I got seven now. I got seven.”

  “What? No you don’t.”

  “Uh-huh. I got seven.”

  “What the fuck, when?”

  Miles pointed at the girl on the ground, “Six,” then pointed to the trees where the lurkers could be heard making their way back, “Seven.”

  “Hell naw! I didn’t see it. That shit don’t count.”

  “I got seven. I got seven. Uh-huhh!”

  “Man!” Antonio picked up his stick again and was preparing to go get another kill. But Miles grabbed his arm and drug him in the opposite direction, away from the camp.

  They continued through the woods, moving perpendicular to the road and not out in the open. No telling who or what could see you in the middle of the street and the morning fog was fully lifted. Miles looked down at the map again and nearly ran into a tree before Antonio grabbed him by the shoulder. The road didn’t go very long before they saw a sign for a Costco superstore a mile away.

  The map they took also helped with the outlined road to take and post-it notes. Neither of the brothers was any good at reading that well but they managed, skipping over the words they didn’t know. The old man used to make them read a book each night before bed but unless he hovered over them while they did, they wouldn’t read for very long. Besides, Miles could only read Oh the Places You’ll Go or One Fish Two Fish, so many times before getting bored and complaining. He’d rather listen to Antonio struggle through his copy of XXL magazine for the hund
redth time or Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Sometimes the old man would take over when Antonio was having trouble with too many words and then both brothers would listen.

  Then, when the old man found the time, he taught them about maps and directions. The basics was all he ever taught and he instructed the boys to never venture out too far from the treehouse. On the few occasions when the boys would go off on their own, he would give them a small map and tell them to follow it to its end, then come right back the same way. More times than not, they’d get lost on their way back and the old man would have to come looking for them. Nevertheless, over time they eventually started to get the hang of being able to follow an outlined path.

  There were no neighboring homes or buildings on the map so this must have been the only superstore in the area. When the two brothers went walking down the off-turn ramp, they saw the mega Costco in the distance and it was huge. It was a perfect representation of old school American consumerism at its finest. It was probably a shining beacon before the fall, but now—packed with abandoned cars, turned-over trucks and shopping carts clustered all over—the store was a dilapidated mess. The front entrance looked like it had been blown open and broken into.

  “Look. Them people was lying. Ain’t nobody stayin’ here. And all the supplies musta been took hella long ago.” Antonio pulled out his gold pistol and pointed at the lurkers in the distance, wandering through the parking lot no more than one hundred yards away. “This place is shitty.”

  “We should still look.” Miles pulled his Dragunov off his shoulder and raised it to look down the scope. He examined the front of the store and saw the shutters were pulled down at the demolished entrance. “It could be closed off. Maybe we can find a way in from the back.” He lowered his rifle and scaled the short cliff along the parking lot’s outer edge.

  Antonio followed and kept an eye on the stumbling freaks still pacing through the lot. The brothers made their way around to the back of the store and found the truck loading area. It was jam-packed with stacks of shopping carts and a deserted semi still backed up to the dock. From the way the carts were arranged, there seemed to be a path constructed to a possible entrance behind the truck’s trailer.