As the World Dies Untold Tales Volume 2

by Rhiannon Frater

  The grim expression on Tito’s face did not comfort Ken in the least. Though no one dared speak it, the truth of the matter was that Tito’s family was most likely dead. Ken didn’t doubt Tito would return though. He had classified Tito as a bad ass in his mind. Not only was the short Latino seriously hot in a bad boy sort of way, but he was good at taking care of business.

  Lenore gave Ken a dark look and he realized he was staring at Tito’s back muscles straining under his shirt as he worked. Casting his gaze in the opposite direction from Tito’s chiseled physique, Ken blushed. He had seriously gone way too long without a boyfriend.

  “Okay, let’s give this a try,” Tito said, setting the drill on the counter. “Lenore, head outside, and when I tell you, push against the door.”

  With the short nod of her head, Lenore obeyed and Tito shut the door. Ken watched as Tito slid the wood brace across the door, shoving it between the three wood brackets.

  “Okay, Lenore. Go for it!” Tito called out.

  Even though Ken knew it was Lenore, he jumped when she hit the door. His already-racing heart sped up as she continued her assault. The door shuddered, but stayed secure.

  “How hard are you hitting it?” Tito asked, leaning forward to watch the brackets.

  “As hard as I can!” Lenore shouted from outside.

  “Okay, stop.” Tito leaned against the counter and sighed. “It’s not going to hold for long, so you’re going to have to keep that in mind. But at least it will buy you time.”

  Ken mopped the sweat from his brow with the bottom of his shirt. “Thanks, man. That’s better than having the door flopping open.”

  Tito pulled the brace out of the brackets and the door swung open, revealing Lenore’s sour expression. “Lenore, I’m heading out now. You got plenty of food, water, shelter and weapons. You should be okay. You guys hunker down and I’ll be back soon.”

  Lenore scowled even more while Ken took a deep breath of hot, humid air, trying to steady his nerves.

  “Good luck, Tito,” Ken said at last.

  Tito held out his hand and they shook hands. Ken wasn’t sure if Tito’s palm was sweaty from all his work, the heat, or his nerves. “Take care, Ken.”

  Lenore stepped away from the doorway to let Tito exit and Ken followed in his wake. Grandma slowly stood, her hand still clutching her weapon.

  “I need to go find my family,” Tito said to the old woman.

  “I’ll pray for you. I appreciate what you did for us today. You saved us,” Grandma said, hugging him. “I’m so sorry about your mother.”

  Tito clung to the older woman for a long moment before letting go. “This is a shitty ass day, that’s for damn sure.”

  “Don’t get eaten,” Lenore said in a somber voice.

  Tito moved to hug her, saw her expression, thought better of it, and offered his hand. Lenore shook it briefly, then handed him the bag of shotgun ammo and the shotgun.

  “You better take this,” Lenore said crisply.

  “You might need it,” Tito said, reaching out for the weapon and bag, but looking unsure.

  “You’re going where there are a lot more zombies than here. And you’re coming back, right?”

  Tito nodded solemnly, his hand closing on the weapon. “Yeah. We’ll be back.”

  “Then take it. We got Grandma’s revolver and some ammunition for it.”

  Tito slung the bag over his shoulder and held the shotgun in his hands almost reverently. “Thanks for this.”

  “Just don’t die.” Lenore folded her arms over her bosom and glared at him.

  “I won’t. And you take of yourselves,” Tito said, shifting on his feet, his eyes hidden by his sunglasses.

  Ken could have been reading him wrong, but Tito appeared to be uncomfortable with leaving them behind. The other man hesitated for a second before walking over to the motor bike he had snagged earlier. Strapping the bag to the bike and figuring out how to secure the rifle, Tito’s face set into a look of sheer determination. He straddled the bike and without another word, he gunned the engine and roared down the hill, plumes of dirt tossed up behind the wheels. Ken watched as the hot wind caught the dust and sent it swirling across the ground like mini-tornados. He listened to the fading sound of the motorbike with a heavy heart.

  “Chances are he ain’t coming back even if he does find his family,” Ken decided, depression settling over him like a thick mantle. Why would Tito come back to an old woman, a chubby grumpy girl and a flaming fag?

  “No. Tito’s a man of his word. If he finds his family or if he doesn’t, he’ll come back,” Grandma decided, fanning herself with her hand. “Too hot to be outdoors anymore. I’m going in to sit a spell inside.”

  “You really think he’ll come back?” Ken asked hopefully. He just couldn’t imagine continuing to survive without someone like Tito helping them.

  “If he can,” Grandma assured him before climbing into the RV.

  Lenore pursed her lips, glowering into the valley below. “I wouldn’t count on it,” she said after a beat.

  Sighing, Ken followed Grandma into the warm RV. Cher was still in her carrier, but sleeping peacefully. He snagged a bottle of water from the well-stocked cabinets (thank you, Mr. Thames), before sitting at the small dining table. He wished they could run the air conditioner, but they were plain lucky they had had enough fuel to make it out this far. The luxuries of life were gone now.

  Folding his arms on the table, he rested his head on his forearms. He wondered how long they would have to wait for Tito to return.

  19.

  Death Comes Again

  --Six Weeks Later

  The storms the night before had battered the small RV, but now that the morning had come, there was a cool breeze wafting through the tiny home. Ken rolled carefully out of his bed above the cab and dropped to the floor. Lenore was still asleep and snoring in the top bunk bed in the rear of the vehicle. Cher yawned on the dashboard of the RV, stretched, then went back to sleep.

  Ken rubbed his eyes as he stumbled into the small kitchen. Their food supplies were dwindling, but Grandma had made some pancakes using the makeshift stove they had rigged over a campfire. The old woman always woke very early to make breakfast and instant coffee so she could sit outside and watch the sun rise. Grandma made the small RV feel like a home instead of a prison.

  As usual, his nightmares were full of the rabid undead and his heart still beat harshly in his chest. He hated waking up from bad dreams. Since they had escaped into the hills, he couldn’t sleep without bone-chilling visions of the undead invading his mind.

  Ken glanced out the open entrance to see the sun was just peeking over the hills. No matter how lovely the countryside was in the spring, he missed his old apartment. He missed civilization. He missed everything about the old world. He still couldn’t believe it was almost two months since they had taken refuge in the hills.

  Stacking pancakes on a plastic plate, Ken sighed. It was difficult not to fall prey to the depression that devoured him if he obsessed about the precariousness of their situation. Even though zombies had not appeared in their area, he was certain the undead were still out there. What little reception the radio had the first few days after their escape had revealed a world in its death throes. After a week all that remained was static. Finally, they had turned it off.

  With a sigh, Ken shook off the negative thoughts threatening to overwhelm him. Grandma always said to be happy for another day of life. He needed to remember her words when he felt this way.

  Ken snagged a fork and headed outside to enjoy his morning meal. The old woman was seated in a plastic lawn chair facing the sunrise, her gray hair ruffled by the morning breeze. Ken plopped into the chair next to her and shoved the first bite of pancake into his mouth.

  “Pretty day, huh?” he said.

  It really was beautiful. The horizon was painted with pink, lavender and gold. The indigo of the night sky was fading to a clear blue.

  Grandma didn’t answer.<
br />
  “Grandma?”

  Ken cocked his head to peer at the older woman. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly open. “Hey, Grandma?”

  The old woman remained eerily still. Gradually, Ken realized that her chest was not rising and falling with breath.

  “Grandma?”

  Afraid, Ken reached out and touched her hand. It felt cool to his touch.

  “Grandma!”

  Scrambling to his feet, he knocked his breakfast onto the ground. He grabbed the older woman by the shoulders and shook her.

  “Grandma, please wake up! Please wake up!”

  Lenore stumbled out of the RV. “What are you shouting about?”

  “It’s Grandma! I don’t think she’s breathing!” Ken exclaimed.

  Lenore’s forehead creased as she hurried over.

  His fingers slid over the old woman’s wrist, searching for a pulse. He was trembling with emotion and felt like throwing up.

  “Grandma?” Lenore leaned over and cupped her hand over the old woman’s mouth and nose. Resting her cheek against the woman’s soft white hair, Lenore squeezed her eyes shut. “Grandma...”

  Ken fumbled with the old woman’s neck, trying to find a pulse of life. His thoughts swirled in a panic as he realized he had never learned CPR.

  Lenore sat heavily on the ground, silent tears streaming down her face. Her thick fingers closed over her grandmother’s wrist as she leaned her forehead against the old woman’s knee. “She’s not here no more, Ken.”

  Ken touched the old woman’s face lightly, his hand covering her mouth, emulating what Lenore had done. He was terrified that she would suddenly snarl and bite off his fingers, but he had to make sure she really wasn’t breathing.

  “She’s gone, Ken!” Lenore shouted. “She ran out of her pills and she told me she was having chest pains. She’s gone!”

  Slumping to the ground, Ken felt tears welling. Cher wandered over, flicking her calico tail, regarding them with interest. “What if she comes back?”

  “She won’t. She didn’t get bit. That was what the radio said does it. The damn bite,” Lenore grumbled, her face contorted with emotion. “She ain’t coming back. She’s gone for good.”

  As Cher curled around him, purring loudly, Ken stared at the old woman he had come to love so dearly. Now all that remained was him, Lenore and Cher. Tito and Grandma were gone.

  “We’re going to have to bury her,” Lenore said at last, her voice rough.

  “Then what?” Ken asked.

  Lenore shrugged.

  Ken rubbed Cher’s thick coat as he glanced toward the rising sun. Usually the sunrise filled him with hope, but today, it filled him with dread.

  20.

  What To Do Next?

  Caked in mud, Lenore sat next to her grandmother’s grave and stared at the sunset. It had taken her and Ken all day to dig the grave. They had only one shovel, so Ken had grabbed a steel pot. On his knees, he had helped her all day long, sweat and tears mingling on both their faces. They only took breaks to go out into the trees to relieve themselves and to eat a cold meal of ravioli.

  Now it was done, and Lenore sat in silence between her grandmother and Ken. The storms the night before had made their job easier by soaking the ground with rain, but now the humidity and mud made Lenore feel even more surly than usual.

  In her hand were the hairpins her grandmother always wore in her hair. Lenore had carefully pulled them out of her grandmother’s bun and arranged her hair like a halo around her head. It bothered Lenore that they had to bury her without a coffin. A bed sheet had been her burial shroud. Yet that was a much better fate than most of the world had suffered.

  Cher stretched out on top of the fresh grave and yawned. The calico usually kept close to the RV, afraid of the great outdoors. Ken had kept her inside his home her whole life and the cat would flee to the RV at the slightest sound. One of her favorite spots was Grandma’s lap. Seeing the cat resting on her grandmother’s grave was strangely comforting.

  “What are we going to do now?” Ken asked in a sorrowful tone.

  All day he had been asking the exact same question, and Lenore never had an answer for him. Their food supply was diminishing and they had barely any gas in the tank. Maybe it had been foolish to stay put, waiting in vain for Tito to return, but Lenore and Ken had truly believed he would make it back. Now it was clear he wasn’t going to and her grandmother was gone.

  “I think it’s time for us to move on,” Lenore said at last. She didn’t want to die. For a while she had convinced herself that staying put was the way to survive, but now she wasn’t too sure.

  “Where will we go?”

  “Hell if I know.”

  Getting to her feet, Lenore walked to the RV. Cher’s cry of protest behind her informed her that Ken was following in her wake clutching his cat. Stepping into the RV, she lit a candle and set it on the table. Ken followed her in, set Cher on the bench and shut the door.

  Lenore retrieved a map from the glove compartment. Spreading it out on the table, she studied their location. Tito had marked it with a small X before he had left. Ken slid into the booth and pet Cher while Lenore hunched over the map.

  “Should we go to a big city?” Ken wondered. “Or to Fort Hood? Wouldn’t there be lots of soldiers there with big guns?”

  “Lots of zombies, too,” Lenore mumbled. “Nearest town is Ashley Oaks.”

  “Can we make it there?” Ken peered at the point on the map where her dirt-encrusted finger pointed.

  “Not sure. We could try to go the other way to Emorton, but I think it’s too far out. We might make it part of the way to Ashley Oaks. Then we’d have to walk the rest of the way.”

  “Walk?” Ken’s voice cracked with fear.

  Lenore’s stomach was roiling with the mere thought of being out in the elements, but she didn’t know what else to do. “Well, we stay here and starve, or we try to go get help. Maybe we’ll find another car or a gas station before we run out of gas.”

  Ken tapped his fingers on the table in a nervous staccato. “I don’t want to get eaten, Lenore.”

  “Me neither. I like my parts where they are. I don’t want to be a zombie barbecue. But we can’t stay here. We need to go before it gets any worse for us.” Lenore scanned the interior of the small mobile home. “So what do we have in here we can use to help ourselves?”

  “Revolver, a crowbar, a knife, and a frying pan,” Ken said. ticking off each item on his fingers. “We also have a CB that doesn’t work.”

  “Tito said we’re out of range up here,” Lenore reminded her friend. A thought slowly formed into an idea. “We could maybe try to get into range. Call out for help. There has gotta be people still out there alive. This is Texas.”

  “Yeah, the rednecks are probably doing great!” Ken’s grin pushed the fear out of his eyes. “We can call for help. Maybe the military will find us!”

  Frowning, Lenore’s tired mind attempted to formulate a plan of action. It felt good to be at least thinking about doing something other than sitting around waiting for either Tito to miraculously appear or for the zombies to find them.

  “How much ammunition do we have?” Lenore asked.

  “Enough to kill eighteen zombies if we hit them in the head the first time,” Ken answered honestly.

  “Then we better hit them in the head the first time.” Lenore tried to measure on the map with her fingers, estimating the distance to Ashley Oaks. They were definitely going to run out of gas on their way. “You ever been to Ashley Oaks?”

  “Uh, yeah. The stupid ex would take me there for their Peach Cobbler festival. It was like this huge deal in that town.” Ken kissed the top of Cher’s head and cuddled the cat.

  “Think anyone there might be alive?” Lenore wiped the sticky, dirty sweat from her forehead and rubbed her hand on her jeans.

  Ken answered with a shrug.

  “Do you remember there being any gas stations or anything like that?”

  �
��Uh, no. But I don’t pay attention to that stuff. I usually read in the car.”

  It would be a huge risk, but all that was left to eat of the food they had brought with them and Mr. Thames’s camping wares was pancakes and a few cans of soup and ravioli. Could they really just sit here and die? Neither one of them knew how to hunt or grow food. Lenore just couldn’t see what else they could do. Guilt ate at her as she wondered if she could have saved her grandmother’s life if they had tried to leave earlier.

  Of course, they could be leaving the safety of their isolated haven to die somewhere out in the world of the dead. Lenore shivered.

  “Are you sure we should do this?” Ken asked in a soft voice. He had been staring at her face, probably reading her thoughts. She hated it when he was so insightful.

  “We probably should have done this earlier,” Lenore groused. “But we kept waiting on Tito. And Grandma seemed happy up here.”

  “And we were too scared to leave,” Ken added.

  “Uh huh.”

  “I’m still too scared to leave.” Ken gave Cher several long kisses on top of her head. The tears in his eyes caught the candlelight.

  “We can always just sit here and wait to die,” Lenore said with a shrug. The idea sickened her. She didn’t want to starve to death. Or get eaten. “We’re damned if we do, damned if we don’t.”

  “Can we think about it a few more days?”

  Lenore nodded. “We got enough food for a little bit longer.” Looking out the window at the pond, Lenore sighed. “I’m going to clean up.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  They gathered clean clothes and towels. Leaving Cher safely inside, they walked down to the pond. Their flashlights illuminated the tall grass and few trees. Lenore didn’t particularly like the dark, but she couldn’t stand to be dirty.

  Under the full moon they washed up, changed into fresh clothing, and washed their dirty outfits. The world around them was peaceful and Lenore wondered if she was being rash. Maybe she just wanted to run away because her grandmother was gone. The emptiness inside of her was crushing.