by Frost, Scott
I stopped in the doorway and turned around. I had a perfect view of the front door. I stood there and listened to the pounding. The pounding didn’t stop that night, and in the morning, when I opened my eyes, it was still there, though not as loud. I couldn’t believe I had fallen asleep. During the night I had sat down in the doorway. Natasha and Emma were still sleeping when I woke up. I looked at them, and wondered if we would live to see another day. We had food, but now the infected knew where we were. I didn’t know if they would ever give up, but I doubted it. I had found enough food to last a week, maybe longer.
The front door was a security enforced door, but I didn’t know how long it would last. Eventually, after constant stress, I knew it would give out. And I also knew that when that happened we had to be gone. The problem was that there was only one way into the apartment and one way out.
“We could jump from the deck if we need to.” I said out loud. I stood up, and stretched my legs. My back was sore, and I had a headache. I needed a smoke, but I didn’t have any. I had been out for two days. I desperately hoped that I would find smokes the next time I looked for supplies, if there were going to be a next time. I think I was more interested in finding a pack of smokes than finding food. Nicotine withdrawals are a bitch.
The door was still closed, and tightly barricaded. I couldn’t see through the peephole, nor did I want to. “Just leave us alone!” I screamed. It was a foolish thing to do, but I couldn’t stop myself. Natasha came running out of the bedroom; her eyes wide open with fear.
“Alex, don’t. Maybe if they don’t hear us they’ll leave.”
“They won’t leave. They can smell us. They won’t leave until they get what they want.”
“What do they want?” She quietly asked. Her eyes looked from me to the door.
“Food.”
She looked at me as though I was one of them. She turned away without saying anything and walked into the bedroom. I heard the bed squeak when she sat down. I couldn’t see her from where I was standing, but I knew she was holding Emma, her eyes closed, and tears rolling down her cheeks.
I took one last look at the door and walked into the bedroom. Emma was still asleep, and Natasha was lying next to her, holding her. I sat down next to Natasha, and placed my arms around her.
“I’m sorry sweetie. I didn’t mean to be so blunt. I should have told you what I saw that morning. Do you remember? “
She turned her body, and our eyes met. Her eyes and cheeks were red. She nodded.
“It was the morning after we watched the news reports. I was in the kitchen looking out the window. I watched as an old man, who was infected, walked down the sidewalk. I knew he was infected. I could see it in the way he walked. He was carrying a severed arm, and as he walked, he kept taking bites out it.”
She didn’t reply. I don’t blame her for not replying. Sometimes silence is better than admitting the truth. I wish I hadn’t known the truth, though, I think that is what has kept us alive.
Two days passed before the pounding stopped. It didn’t stop all at once, but slowly grew fainter as each day passed. I didn’t know if they had given up, or if they even had the capacity to give up. I reasoned that they had found someone else. Whatever the reason was, I was relived. So were Natasha and Emma. Those two days were very long. We had little food which we ate sparingly. We constantly worried about the infected breaking in. And though we didn’t want to leave the apartment Natasha and I discussed different plans.
We sheltered Emma from the truth as long as we could. We told her that people were sick, and that in order for us not to catch it we had to stay away from them. We told her the infected didn’t know what they were doing, which is why they were pounding on our door. I don’t think she believed us, but she nodded her head in agreement. She was a kid, but she wasn’t naive.
We celebrated Emma’s birthday with a Twinkie as a birthday cake. It was our last Twinkie. We placed eight birthday candles on top and sang happy birthday. She smiled, and blew out the candles. Luckily we had bought her one present before the outbreak, not that it would do much good now, but it was all we had to give. I assembled her new bike the night before, after she fell asleep. I kept it in the bedroom until after she ate her make shift cake, which also served as breakfast. The candles looked ridiculous on top of the Twinkie, but she loved it, every second of it. I think it made her feel like a kid, the kid she once was.
Natasha had her put her hands over her eyes as I rolled the bike into the living room.
“Okay sweetie you can look,” Natasha said with excitement. Emma uncovered her eyes, and looked at the bike with a blank stare.
“Thanks. Can I take it outside?” She asked, sarcastically. A trait she no doubt picked up from me. Natasha and I looked at each other, and then at Emma. I spoke first.
“Not today, but maybe tomorrow.” It was a lie, but I didn’t know what else to say. As I stumbled to say something else, Natasha spoke.
“Em, how about we clear a path and you can ride your bike in here. There is plenty of room. We can move the kitchen table, and the mattress. What do you think?”
Emma looked around the living room, and into the kitchen. She looked at me as though waiting for me to tell her she couldn’t ride the bike in the apartment.
“I think it’s a good idea.” I said.
Emma smiled, and ran to her new bike. For the next twenty minutes we moved everything out of her way, and she rode her bike back and forth from the living room to the kitchen, and down the hallway. It was the first time she had been that happy since the outbreak. Her smiles and laughter were contagious, and soon all of us were laughing. Natasha and I chased her, of course, letting her stay ahead of us.
I wish I could say that we stayed that way, that we stayed happy, but that was not the case. Our happiness didn’t last long. Our food supply depleted quickly, and we soon found ourselves in a difficult situation. We watched the infected walk around outside, stumbling in slow movements. They were everywhere, searching for food. I didn’t know if they could still smell us, but they smelled something, which is why they stayed in the area. Their numbers grew daily. Occasionally we saw the uninfected running, and driving vehicles. Though, we usually saw more people running than in the safety of a vehicle. I figured that most people had abandoned their cars when they ran out of gas. I doubted that gas stations were still serving a purpose. And as I stood at the kitchen window watching a teenage boy running, I suddenly realized that my car was almost on empty. One night I was having a cup of coffee and looking out the kitchen window and I saw a group of three men chasing a younger girl, an uninfected girl. They caught her and knocked her out with what looked like a small bat. I couldn’t make out everything perfectly. I watched as they carried her away as a group of infected started to emerge from all directions. I quickly ducked to avoid being seen. At night we kept the apartment dark so that no one could see us.
The night the outbreak started, I had left the office later than usual, and didn’t feel like stopping for gas. I figured I would just get it in the morning. Thank God, I had just bought three packs of cigarettes the day before the virus hit. I always hated my work week. Waking early to commute forty five minutes to work and spend a better part of the day reviewing applications and conduct reports but now after so many month of not working I miss it. I was a human resource manager for a telecommunications company. It was a tedious job and not what I had dreamed about but it paid the bills. I spent the rest of that night trying to develop a plan.
I realized that I would have to leave and find more supplies. I didn’t know if I even had a chance. The infected moved slowly, but there were too many of them. My plan was to find another apartment unit in my complex and hope to find supplies. The only, well not the only, but one of the problems was that if I was spotted, I might not be able to back to the apartment and Natasha and Emma would be stuck in the apartment without food.
The morning that I decided to leave was like every other morning. I woke up fi
rst, walked into the kitchen, and looked out the window. The infected walked day and night, though during the day they seemed to be in fewer numbers.
I turned the faucet on and splashed cold water onto my face. The coldness woke me up. My body ached for a smoke, and a cup of coffee. I hadn’t eaten in the last two days, and my stomach was in pain. I drank three glasses of water. We had one can of potatoes left, which was for Emma. Natasha and Emma shared a can of baked beans and the last of our saltines the day before. I had nothing. I told Natasha that I wasn’t hungry. She knew I was lying. She tried her best to convince me to eat some of her beans, but I refused.
That morning, after I dried my face, I prepared. I put a knife in each of my front jean pockets, an empty book bag flung around my shoulder, and I grabbed the baseball bat resting against the kitchen table. The plan was to fill the bag with everything I could find. We needed food, medicine, and hygiene items.
I walked into the bedroom, which is where Natasha and Emma slept since the pounding, even after it ended. I went to the side that Emma slept on and kissed her forehead.
“I love you sweetie,” I whispered.
She didn’t wake up.
I walked around the bed and put my hand on Natasha’s shoulder. I lowered my face until I felt her breath on my lips. I gently pressed my lips against hers. She opened her eyes, and as I pulled away, she smiled.
“Good morning. How long have you been up?” She asked.
“Not long. I think it’s time for me to go. We only have one can of food left.”
Her smiled quickly faded away. And she looked at Emma, and back at me. She quietly cried, as I held her hand.
“I know. I wish I didn’t have to leave, but I have too. We won’t last much longer without food. I’m going to stay close. I’m hoping I can find another unit in this complex that has supplies. I’m going to unblock the door; I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
She wiped the tears off her cheeks, and nodded.
Twenty minutes later I called her name. She walked out of the bedroom, her robe pulled tightly around her body. She looked at the unblocked door.
“It’s okay, no one is out there. As soon as I get out you need to lock the door and push whatever you can in front of it, but nothing too heavy. If I’m spotted I’m going to lose them before I come back.”
I grabbed the bat, and as I turned toward the door Natasha walked in between me and the door, and wrapped her arms around my waist. She buried her face into my chest.
“I love you so much,” I whispered, as I kissed her neck. She smelled wonderful, like sweet lavender. She had pulled her hair up in a ponytail, leaving me a perfect view of her neck. I kissed her neck up to her cheek and lifted her face to meet mine. We softly kissed, lingering in the moment, and held each other. In truth, part of me thought that was going to be our last kiss. I’m thankful it wasn’t.
She locked the door behind me. I stood there and listened to the sound of the dead bolt sliding in place. I looked around, and didn’t see anyone, infected or not infected. I ran down the stairs and veered right. I ran pass Unit 1, and reached Unit 2. I quickly turned the door handle. It was locked. I thought about trying to kick the door open, or smash a window, but didn’t want to draw attention. I ran to the next door, Unit 3. The door was open. I should have turned around. I stopped and looked into the apartment. A CD tower was face down on the floor, CD’s were everywhere. The floor was littered with garbage. And as I looked closer, I saw something else. I walked in, and listened for movement. It was quiet. I looked around and saw a hand print on the wall. The hand print was in blood. I shut, and locked the door behind me.
I walked in the living room, making a mental list of possible supplies. I walked from the living room to the kitchen. I didn’t bother to look in the refrigerator or freezer. I quickly searched the cabinets, but didn’t find anything. The cabinets were empty. I opened the pantry door expecting to see nothing, but I was pleasantly surprised. The panty wasn’t full, but still had a few items. I took count of six canned items, and two boxes of rice. I put them in my bag. I also found a half used bag of sugar, and a pepper shaker, I added them to my bag. I shut the pantry door and decided to look in the bathroom next. I made one last look through the kitchen and walked toward the bathroom. The smell of death hit me as I walked down the hallway.
The bathroom door was open. There was no window in the bathroom which made it hard to see, and I didn’t bring a flashlight. I used my lighter, and walked in. The lighter provided little light, but helped. I found a bottle of Advil and Rolaids in the medicine cabinet. Also a half used tube of Crest toothpaste. I added them to my bag. I turned around and faced the shower. I was hesitant to open the curtain, and as I reached and slowly pulled the curtain open, I was ready for anything. I half expected an infected to jump out at me, but nothing happened. I found a bottle of body wash and a full bottle of shampoo and conditioner and a bottle face wash, three quarters empty. I added that to my bag.
I left the bathroom and walked to the end of the hallway. The apartment only had one bedroom. I reached the door, and listened for movement. A sound came from the bedroom that I didn’t recognize. I leaned against the door, and put my ear against it, and listened. I heard movement. I couldn’t tell if it was an infected or an uninfected.
I was terrified, and in some regard curious to find out who was in there. I couldn’t leave without knowing. I turned the door handle, but it was locked. When the door handle clicked to a stop, I took a step backward. I quietly set my book bag on the floor, and readied my bat. I kicked the door with all my might, and it flung open. I raised the bat, and prepared, but nothing happened. I didn’t move for a few seconds, expecting someone to jump out. I finally lowered my bat, and walked into the bedroom. As I walked into the bedroom and the smell off death filled my nose. I didn’t initially see the infected kid come at me. I was looking at the open closet, and he was on other side of the bed. He was very skinny, and nude. His body had what appeared to be bite marks covering the better part of his body, and the side of his stomach was missing. His eyes were empty. His mouth was open and his hair was plastered against his forehead. I didn’t hear him until he was right on top of me. He didn’t make a sound, no moans, nothing. It was dark in the bedroom, which didn’t help. He grabbed my arm and tried to pull it to his mouth. I turned around, startled, and screamed. My screams didn’t faze him. I plunged the bat into his chest, knocking him backward. I ran out of the bedroom and into the living room. I had a perfect view of the bedroom door, and waited. I didn’t have to wait long. He walked out of the bedroom, and slowly walked toward me. I watched his eyes as he walked toward me. He walked, his body leaning forward, and stumbling every step, but he kept walking. I watched as he got closer.
I didn’t want to leave until I searched the bedroom. I thought about waiting for him to walk into the living room and then run around him and lock myself in the bedroom, and maybe sneak out of a window. I knew what I had to do, but I didn’t want to. I had never killed anyone, let alone injured anyone. And this was a kid, maybe around ten. I didn’t know if I had it in me to kill a kid. And as he got within three feet I raised my bat and swung at his head like it was a baseball. The impact against his head sounded like a watermelon exploding. Pieces of his skull and brain splattered. His body fell to the floor.
It’s amazing what the mind can convince the body to deal with. I watched his body fall to the floor. He landed with his arm behind his back. He was dead. And I was the killer. In retrospect, I’m thankful. After all, in this new world, it’s either kill or be killed. And I have a family to protect, and so I will always kill.
Chapter Two
Emma woke in a cold sweat, screaming for help. Before I heard her screams, I was planning another supply trip. We were low on food and water again, and though I didn’t want to make a trip to the grocery store the time had come.
Her screams startled me, and I ran up the stairs, down the hallway and into our bedroom I knew her screams were a result o
f another nightmare, but part of thought that maybe the infected had found a way into the house. As I ran into the bedroom, I saw Emma, sitting, with her hands over her eyes, shielding them, with tears running down her cheeks. It was dark in the bedroom, a candle burned on the nightstand. It smelled like fresh laundry.
“Emma, it’s okay, it was only a bad dream.” Hoping my words would comfort her.
I held her, trying to calm her down. Her screams instantly stopped. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and squeezed. It’s not good to make noise at night. Even at her age she understood that noise was bad. It’s never good to draw attention. As I held her in my arms, her tears began to slow. I was thankful.
As I held her, I started to feel that I had let her down. After her mother vanished, I promised her that I would protect her and keep her safe. And though, I had kept her safe, I didn’t feel like I’d done a good job. She constantly had nightmares. The truth was she needed her mother. She needed Natasha. I needed Natasha.
It had been over two months since we’d seen Natasha, since I’d seen my wife. I missed her dearly. I still miss her, and I know Emma does too, though in a different way.
Emma fell asleep in my arms that night. And as I gently rocked her back and forth, trying to keep her asleep, I started to cry. After Natasha vanished I watched Emma sleep every night, afraid to close my eyes, in fear that I’d wake and she’d be gone.
My nightmare is Emma becoming one of them. I won’t let that happen. I can’t. It had been two months since we’d seen another living person. I decided that we needed to leave the safety of the house we had invaded to find supplies.