by Nate Allen
Chapter 12
It was April 15th of 2014, a Tuesday. As of this day, happiness would become a sought after memory. The sun had been buried beneath a black sky, only peering through with rare dawn light. The town of Miles, and the country it sat in, was impatiently awaiting the announcement. On the day the President was found dead, the country had never been more lost. A week later a mysterious man took his place after the Vice President and the many men next in line were unable to take the job. He was known as the faceless leader. There had been two announcements in the last six months. Each time the faceless leader spoke, it was through a silver voice box in a small, well lit room. But, on this day, he was going to reveal himself to the world.
At 7:00 pm, the announcement would begin. The people of the world found their breath being held in anticipation. Maybe he was the man who would pull them out of the darkness. Maybe he was the light at the end of a dark, dark tunnel.
No one could know. No one would know until 7:00 pm.
Grant was walking up and down the street, shining a flashlight at the sky. Caught in the flashlights cast were vague blurs of clouds, of normality. It was all gone though. The sun was nothing but a dying memory. The moon was no different. It couldn't be explained scientifically. The town of Miles (and from what it seemed, the world) was staring up Mother Nature's gown, only to find she was made from shadow... just like them. When it came down to it, God looked at man with cynical eyes just the same.
It was just minutes after 3:00 pm. Cars were parked in their driveways, TVs were blaring with news channels, and the townsfolk sat idly by in their homes, awaiting their answers, awaiting their light.
Grant walked up the street, passing The Family Restaurant, and then coming back. The town had never been quieter. The people of Miles were buried deep in their own wants, their own needs. What they wanted were answers. What they needed was a Savior.
Grant walked up and down the street a final time, and then came home. He grabbed his keys, and drove over to Bobby's, leaving his porch light glowing, and his doors unlocked.
He drove away from his house, taking the first left presented and driving for three blocks. Bobby's house sat on the corner, shrouded in bare trees and dead bushes. Grant parked his car, idled quietly, and then took the key out of the ignition. He sighed, and closed his door.
Grant walked up to Bobby's front door. He knocked a couple times, and awaited an answer. With his face pressed against the glass window, he saw neon light and anticipation wrapping Bobby's mom's face. And then the door opened. Bobby was wearing a black button up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Nothing, I was just walking around." answered Grant. "I was shining the flashlight at the sky. It's the weirdest thing. It's still warm out, but the sun hasn't been in the sky for more than a month."
"I know," Bobby nodded his head. "Darkness without explanation." he shrugged. "All we have going on here is watching TV. My mom has been counting down the minutes until the announcement."
"Forty five minutes, Bobby!" his mom yelled loudly.
"I know, mom." Bobby rolled his eyes.
"She's excited." smiled Grant.
"Yeah, like a stupid kid waiting for her favorite cartoon. What happened to the mom she used to be?"
"Grief hits us all differently, man."
"Yeah, I guess." Bobby shrugged. ""Anyway, come on in. Get a pop if you want. You know, make yourself at home."
"Alright, thanks." Grant stepped in, while glancing behind him. Bobby shut the door. Grant took off his shoes, and walked into the living room. Bobby's mom sat silently, and flat eyed in a rocking chair.
"Hi, Mrs. Jackson,"
"Hi, Grant." she answered quietly, keeping her eyes on the TV in front of her. "It's good to see you."
"Thanks. You too," Grant glanced back at Bobby awkwardly.
"So where is Chelsea?" asked Bobby, leading Grant away from the living room and into the kitchen.
"She's at her parent's house. They got to watch Kali today, so she is picking her up, and probably talking with her mom for awhile. I don't know. I haven't talked to her since she left."
Forty five minutes passed. Bobby's mom called them to the living room. Whenever talking about the announcement, her voice would raise in anticipation. Both Grant and Bobby left the kitchen, and entered the living room. Finding their eyes drawn to a television set with a clock counting down the announcement: 3-2-1... It clicked to a fuzzy white, until finding clarity. There was silver voice box in a well-lit room.
After a moment of complete silence, a man with dark brown hair dusted in gray stepped in front of the box, smiled strangely, and straightened out a silky red tie.
"My fellow humans, I come to you today humble, and whole. This is the beginning of something long awaited, the beginning of truth. As you can see, I am not a monster, I do not have a deformity-I am only a man meant to lead you in the right direction. Believe in me, as I believe in you. This darkness is only the beginning of something better. I can save you. I will save you." he paused. "Mrk Frong Dore. Cos Legk Nith. Codor Sie Fore." his eyes darkened, as his pupils dilated until his eyes were without white.
"Weird," Bobby looked at Grant. "What's he saying?"
"I don't know, Bobby." But, Grant had heard it before, in his dreams.
"Mom, this is strange. I'm gonna turn it okay?" Bobby grabbed the remote from her lap, and turned the power off. He glanced at the rocking chair to find her eyes closed. Her eyelids shuttered, and her tongue rolled wordless sounds. "Mom, are you okay?" Bobby got down next to her, and nudged her shoulder with the tips of his fingers.
"Mrk Frong Dore. Cos Legk Nith. Codor Sie Fore." she whispered softly. "I am saved."
"What, mom?"
"I am saved." it slipped out in a whisper, sliding down thin lips, and over pale skin. Bobby bent his ear down near her chest, touched her face softly, and sighed.
"Call 911, Grant." said Bobby. "Tell them she is-"
She awoke with black eyes glaring, and a cloud of foam frothing at the mouth. "Fear!" she stared strangely, baring her teeth, and growling.
"Watch out, Bobby!" yelled Grant. Bobby stepped back with eyes wide, falling down. And then, he watched his mom follow. She grabbed her dark brown hair with spread fingers, and pulled, until it came out in clumps. Blood began to drip from her wounds.
"Mom," Bobby continued to push himself backwards. "Stop this-please." After walking lopsided with a tilted head, she swung left, seeing Grant staring, and then looked back at Bobby with blood running down her cheeks. Like a child slurping up the last of a sticky mess, she wiped her hand across her face, and licked the blood clean.
Bobby was unable to get to his feet. Grant was unable to move.
"Stop this, m-mom." said Bobby. "Come back!" tears filled his eyes as his tone sounded despondent. It was as if he thought he was dreaming.
For a moment, his mom stopped, tilted her head once again, and stared at him.
"Fear!" she lunged forward, grabbing hold of Bobby. A much lighter woman pinned her son to the ground, pressing him against the wall and slowly extending her neck. Her teeth were near his face. Blood dripped out like drool from a dog in heat.
"Stop!" Bobby pushed her face back, freeing both of his hands.
Grant was in the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the block. A tingle of adrenaline pumped into him, causing the fear to become something different?-something controllable.
She was relentless, now lurching, only to find his hands pushing her back. Stabbing her nails into his gut, she ripped them free. Bobby screamed. With a cock of the fist, he punched her in the side of the head. Like it was attached to a spring, her head sprang to one side, and then sprang back straight. She snarled. Near her temple was a bleeding bruise.
Bobby was in tears, looking into her eyes. His mother was gone. She had been replaced by something animalistic. With teeth painted in blood and eyes blacker than freshly burnished stones, she clamped onto his leg
. As she was about to bite down, Grant stabbed her in the back of the neck.
Immediately her mouth loosened. She shrieked, and dropped to the floor. With a whimper, she reached for Bobby, as if for one final moment, she knew who he had been to her.
Grant pulled the knife out of the back of her neck, and dropped it to the floor. Blood began to spill out of her.
Bobby looked up at Grant with flat eyes, as he sniffled. "What did you do?"
"She wasn't your mom anymore, Bobby." Grant paused. "I don't know what she was, but she was going to kill you."
"I-I know," he sniffled. "This is a dream. I'm just dreaming. Pinch me so I can wake up."
"I wish it was." Grant said. "I'm sorry, Bobby," Grant looked down at Bobby's mom. She was no longer moving. Her eyes were sharp and glaring, but dead.
On Bobby's right thigh, red teeth marks stained his jeans. Grant couldn't yet tell if he had been bitten, or if it was the blood from her mouth.
"What is happening?" Grant asked himself quietly enough so that Bobby didn't hear him. He walked back into the living room, turning the TV back on. It was now just snowy static. "What was she?"
When Grant glanced over at Bobby, he saw him lifting up his white t-shirt beneath his black button up shirt, finding three cuts shaped like crescent moons. They weren't deep, but they needed to be cleaned.
"I'll get you some band aids." Grant said, turning off the TV. "Where are they?"
"Above the stove in the kitchen," Bobby answered quietly, now closing his eyes. "In a plastic white basket-there's probably some alcohol swabs too."
"Alright," Grant went out to the kitchen, and found the aid items. When he brought them back, he saw Bobby shutting his mom's eyelids with his pointer and middle finger.
Bobby looked at Grant, and then back down at his mom. He kissed her forehead, and then stood up. "I'm sorry," it was whispered.
"So this is what it's been leading to?" Grant shook his head, and bit his lip in disbelief.
"I guess." Bobby agreed with a whisper.
"I wonder if your phone works."
"She's probably dead too, Grant," Bobby looked back down at his mom.
"No, she's fine." Grant calmed a quivering lip. "She's fine-maybe it isn't everywhere."
"It was the announcement!"
"If it was the announcement, then why didn't we turn the same way?"
"I don't know." Bobby sighed, and pulled off his glasses. "Does it matter how it happened? It happened, and m-my mom's de-dead."
"I know, Bobby,"
"Shut up, Grant! You know nothing! It was my mom that died, not yours! Had you given me a little bit more time, I could have reached her! But, ya-you killed her!"
Grant shook his head, and held his tongue.
"I could have saved her!"
"She would have eaten you alive, and you would have watched. You would have watched her eat you!" Grant looked down at Bobby's blood stained thigh. "My mom left too. I don't even know if she's alive."
"It's just not fair," Bobby quieted his voice.
"Nothing's ever fair."
"Your self-righteous-" he was interrupted by a shrill scream. It sounded childlike.
Grant and Bobby walked over to the window, and peeked out. A young girl appeared out of the dark, now standing beneath the streetlight in front of Bobby's house. On each side of her, an older man crept closer, as if they were tiptoeing-hunting. Her head swung from side to side, as she began to back up. The men lifted their heels, screeched fear, and lunged forward.
The girl tripped on the curb, and was knocked down. She wouldn't get back up. Instead, the men each clenched onto her with their mouths, and began to feed. She screamed something blood curdling, calling for help. But, help wouldn't come. If it still existed, it wouldn't for long.
"The Insane." whispered Grant.
"What?" asked Bobby calm, with mortified eyes.
"They are The Insane. I thought I knew what insane entailed, hell I thought I was insane. But, I am sane in comparison. At least I think I am."
"Uh," Bobby calmed a festering mind. "You and I are both cynical,"
"Yeah,"
"Well, what if we weren't affected, because we are good?"
Grant looked at him with listening eyes.
"Even if we claim we are insane, or permanently damaged from the war." Bobby continued. "What if we are actually good, Grant? I mean I hate to think my mom was a monster deep down. But, what if she was?"
"I don't know, Bobby. Maybe it was your dad dying. She was different after that. It was like she checked out, like she was just existing. I think that everybody has a monster though. Maybe they just switched roles. Maybe deep down in The Insane rests a calm soul."
They looked back out the window. The men continued to feed, until lifting their noses into the air. Soon, five or six more gathered out front, and began to walk toward Bobby's house.
"What do they want?" Bobby asked while running away from the window, and pressing his face against the window on the door. The question answered itself with a putrid smell. Bobby looked back, seeing his mom's corpse lying lifeless. The blood around it was sticking to the floor.
"They want her, Grant!" Bobby said hectically. "Why do they want her?!"
"We can't stay here, Bobby." said Grant. "You know we can't."
"Yeah, but I can't leave her."
"You have to. She's dead, Bobby. Just tell yourself she's somewhere better."
"But, she isn't. If it really was all about choices, she chose this." In that moment, something in Bobby changed. He no longer looked at his mom with the same kind of love. Instead he looked at her with disgust. "If she chose this, she deserves what happened." Bobby internally discarded his mother at that moment. He would still have the memories of her before she changed, but she would never be seen the same.
"We have to go, Bobby,"
"Where?"
"Chelsea's," Grant answered.
"Assuming that she is good deep down,"
"Just stop, okay, Bobby? I know her. She is not one of them. She can't be."
"I hope you're right, Grant." Bobby looked down at his mom. "I'm sorry, I'm just trying to make sense of all this."
"Have you ever thought that maybe it doesn't make sense? Maybe there isn't an explanation. Maybe it just is."
"There has to be a reason you and I are still here. There has to be a reason that some are The Insane, and others are running from them."
"Well you can't know that, Bobby. You don't know that. Maybe it's because we weren't waiting for it. We didn't care."
"Character has something to do with it, Grant." Bobby and Grant were now in the kitchen, pulling food from the fridge, and stuffing it into plastic grocery bags. They grabbed pop, pre-sliced package meat, a block of cheese, and bread. Within moments, The Insane were peering through the windows, and pounding their hands on the glass.
Grant grabbed the last of the food, stuffed it into a bag, and then ran toward the front door.
"They aren't in the back, Grant!" informed Bobby from across the house.
"But, I need to get my car."
"Just leave it!"
Grant shook his head, and ran back toward the kitchen.
"Fear!" The Insane screeched as their fists pounded against the windows, cracking the glass into a strewn about webs.
Bobby dug two flashlights out from the cupboard, handed one to Grant, and kept one for himself. He also grabbed a first aid kit, tossed it in the bag, and closed the cupboards.
"Bye, mom." said Bobby while clenching the door handle. "I loved you."
A window broke, and The Insane stepped through. They lifted their noses into the air, smiled satisfaction, and cluttered around her corpse. Mortified, Grant and Bobby watched. They looked down at her, got on their knees and began to feed. Grant and Bobby couldn't move. They were petrified. The Insane soon found their scent, looked up with rabid, dark eyes, and darted toward the kitchen.
"Go, Bobby!" screamed Grant, throwing the door open, and running
outside. Bobby followed, tripping over himself. Grant ran back to help him up only to find a group of them dashing out the door. Bobby looked with wide eyes, found his footing, and stumbled away. Grant and Bobby clicked on their flashlights, finding the night to be a haze of confusion. The air was thick with fog, and the streetlights shone dimly, now fully enveloped in the apocalypse.
The flashlight's cast got lost in the surroundings. The Insane yelled loudly, growling, searching frantically. Grant and Bobby ran by the garage, entered an alley, and turned right. The air was cold. The ground was wet. And the sky was leaking. Grant looked over at Bobby, seeing him constantly wiping his lenses clear of water.
For the moment, growing screams had faded into the thickness. Grant and Bobby looked back the way they came, seeing rolling fog. They turned left at the alley's end and ran beneath a line of streetlights. They stopped, holding their sides and breathing deep.
"I think we lost them." Grant said within a gasp.
"Yeah, but not for long." replied Bobby quietly. "We have to keep going."
"Chelsea's is only another two and a half blocks. We can make it."
"Yeah," Bobby paused. "But what if it is a waste? What if she is li-"
"Don't say it, Bobby. Just stop," they continued walking. Grant didn't want to face the possibility that Chelsea was dead, or one of them. He knew it was possible, because he didn't know the reasoning behind this seemingly random event. For all Grant knew, it had been a pick-and-choose event. Maybe he was no better than anyone. Maybe just certain people had been chosen.
A thought hit him in the head, causing Grant to grab his phone and dial Chelsea's number. It rang twice, and then took him to an automated voicemail: We're sorry that your call cannot be connected. We are experiencing a problem right now. But, we will have it fixed as soon as possible. Thank you for your patience.
"Damn it!" Grant hit redial again.
"What?"
"It's not working."
With another set of rings, the same voice said the same thing.
"I doubt the phones work now anyway, Grant." Bobby looked back. "If The Insane are everywhere, the survivors will be in a panic. They'll be calling like you are. I'd be calling too, if I still had somebody to call." Bobby's face became sad as the realization of just how alone he was hit him.
Grant heard it, but didn't reply. It was the kind of thing that he nodded his head at with a sense of condolence-with a sense of guilt. It was entirely true. Bobby-much like Grant-had been a closed away person. With his parents now dead, he only had a best friend. And even that relationship had begun to tear at the seams.
"I'm not getting through,"
"Try mine," Bobby offered his phone, "I'm on a different network."
Grant took the phone, and dialed the number. The result was the same.
"No," Grant shook his head.
"I'm sure Chelsea's safe," Bobby was selfless in that moment. With the death of his mom still crushing his mind, he was only thinking about his friend. Even though the relationship was tearing, it didn't mean it didn't exist. Grant was all he had left.
"Thanks, Bobby," with a slight smile, Grant began to run. Bobby followed. Before they knew it, two and a half blocks passed, and her white house with red shutters sat in front of them.
Grant looked at Bobby, and then began to walk toward her house. It seemed calm compared to the world they walked in. With every step Grant took, he made himself believe she was okay. He knew that the good he saw in her wasn't a mask. Grant knew her too well.
Soon, his steps brought him and Bobby up to her door. They looked in through the small glass window on the door and knocked.
"Chelsea?!" Grant called. "Chelsea! It's Grant!" he shone his light at the window, seeing only darkness.
"Fear!" they came from the surrounding yards much faster than before. Bobby and Grant looked back. On the street, silhouettes were becoming clarity. The Insane sprinted toward the house with their arms in a senseless flail. Grant knocked harder, feeling the door vibrate, and shoot shocks back into his body.
"Someone come-pl-please." he hung his head, starting to think Chelsea was dead.
Every second brought The Insane closer. They were running up the grass, nearing the stairs-
Suddenly, the door opened, and the barrel of a shotgun stared Grant in the face.
"Get in the house!" Mr. Hart demanded as he cocked the gun, and pulled the trigger, pelting the side of the house in blood soaked chunks of brain. He shot twice more, shut the door, and latched it closed. Grant and Bobby walked into the house, finding a candle lit living room with the furniture arranged to encircle a sleeping Chelsea and Kali Marie. For only a moment, he smiled. Bobby sat on the sofa, and closed his eyes. Grant remained standing.
Mr. Hart came back in the living room, sitting down next to a pile of wood with a heavy sigh.
"Just like the war. Pick the bastards off one by one." he said.
Grant answered with an awkward scoff, and smiled. "Yeah, I guess." he shook his head discreetly. "Where is Mrs. Hart?"
"I killed her, Grant." Mr. Hart swallowed hard. "She changed. She became one of those Things. She was watching the announcement, then started chanting something. Next thing I knew, she had Chelsea pinned against the wall. She was going to eat her. As crazy as it sounds, my Lisa was going to eat her."
Bobby looked up at Mr. Hart and then away.
"I'm sorry." said Grant softly. "Bobby's mom is dead too."
"Shit. What the hell is going on?" Mr. Hart scratched his head, and picked up a hammer. "One minute I'm drinking my nightly scotch, sitting in the den reading the paper, and the next, my wife has my daughter pinned to the wall... growling."
"That's life." Bobby whispered.
"I guess, Bobby. But, it even hurts my hardened heart. I shot my beautiful wife. She bled out and whimpered until she died. She stared at me with these eyes. Never, even in my worst nightmares, have I seen eyes that have made me turn cold. But, hers did."
"Is Kali okay?" asked Grant, glancing over at his daughter sleeping beneath Chelsea's arm.
"She was terrified for a while, but she fell asleep. Chelsea cried herself to sleep. She looked at me with hate. I didn't want to kill her! Why would I want to kill my wife? I love-loved her." Mr. Hart swallowed a tear lump as he stood up to continue placing wood scraps over the windows. He began to nail nails into the outer edge, leaving nothing but jagged, crooked teeth for a window. Soon, any light, any communication with the world surrounding them was cut off. But, it didn't matter anymore. The phones were down. The people they would usually call were either in the room with them, or one of The Insane.
The small group consisting of Grant, Bobby, Chelsea, Mr. Hart, and Kali Marie were the sole survivors. Maybe there were more at that moment, but soon they would be nothing but food for famished friends. The world had become a monster's buffet. It had become what it always had been.
There was nothing they could do but wait. As they sat in Chelsea's house, they didn't know what that meant, or entailed. And the realization of waiting, and forced seclusion brought up questions in Grant. What were they waiting for? Were they waiting for God to change the light bulb, clean the sky, and restore normality? Grant didn't know. All he knew was the four people surrounding him were all he had left. Maybe his mother and sister were out there somewhere. But, somewhere at this point was another world away.
All Grant could do was savor the moment. He lay down next to his two girls, rubbed their cheeks, kissed their foreheads, and smiled.
Bobby lay quietly, shedding a tear that he wiped away, and then closed his eyes. Outside of the house, they screamed, feeding on those that remained. There was still food for The Insane. But, not for long...