Apocalyptic Beginnings Box Set

by M. D. Massey

  I close the jewelry box before tiptoeing to the side of the bed where Nadine sleeps. She looks like a picture of health. In my experience, she should at least have a fever. I grip the crossbow tighter.

  The next thing I know her eyes shoot open and I’m looking into the barrel of a gun. She sits straight in the bed and lowers the gun when she realizes it’s me. Her wavy hair juts awkwardly from sleep and her cornflower eyes are wide and alert.

  I laugh a little and try not to fidget. “Why are you pointing a gun with no bullets at me?”

  She takes a deep breath. “Sorry. You know the saying, old habits die-hard. I think Harley wants to look for ammunition soon.”

  “Yeah, you guys are staying here while he gathers supplies,” I inform her without telling her the real reason.

  “You mean he’ll have a nice place to bury me,” she says with perfect ease, sounding content with the idea. “I won’t be leaving here alive, I know. I’ve accepted the inevitable.”

  “I came in here to change your bandages and to check your bite. You don’t seem feverish…” I place my trembling hand on her forehead. “Which is weird. Here, give me your arm.” I reach for her wrist and she jerks away.

  She half smiles and shrugs. “I’d rather Harley look at it. I’m starving,” she says, peeking over my shoulder.

  Kale is leaning against the doorframe. The teal walls make his eyes pop, and he stares at Nadine. His expression changes before I can decipher the look.

  Plastering a smile for my sake, he says, “Wake and bake?”

  She tucks the gun in her waistband as she rises and walks from the room. “No,” I state, narrowing my eyes at the empty doorway.

  5

  The day is almost as exceptional as it was yesterday, except a few fluffy white clouds dot the sky. In the old life, I hated these clouds when I would tan. The breeze blows on my face and arms with no sign of the previous smell of rot as I make my rounds, checking tripwires that tell me when something tracks through my neighborhood.

  I fix the trip string in the woods where the zombies and gang came through yesterday. I couldn’t track the path of the other zombies from two nights ago. It’s likely they came from the same direction as the others. It seems odd. Maybe I’m being paranoid because Nadine will become a walking hungry corpse any day now.

  Something is not right. I can’t put my finger on it. It’s puzzling Nadine shows no signs of turning. She mentioned she was hungry. I hurry to get back and keep an eye on her.

  I make it to the bunker to find everyone in silence. They’re nonchalantly doing something unimportant, as if they were talking about me. I feel too tired to think about what. I want to be by myself to get rid of the headache from the strain of having guests. Getting used to being around them has proved a challenge. Maybe I haven’t changed from being a selfish person.

  Ignoring them won’t be productive. “You guys can make someone feel out of the loop.” Kale seems confused so I explain, “You’re like family to each other. People come together when they lose loved ones. To tell you the truth, I’m glad I have company.” I try not to say it grudgingly. After a deep breath, I continue, “I checked things and I think we can relax for a bit. Maybe make a big dinner and get to know each other better.” I smile and it feels forced but they don’t seem to notice. Everyone smiles at me, even Nadine.

  “There’s no better way to spend the time,” she says with her chin held high.

  For the faux occasion, I decide to griddle some cornmeal cakes and pinto beans. Harley wants to go hunting. I don’t like this idea. Not because I don’t eat meat, but because there are few living things nowadays and we have plenty of food. He plans to take Nadine along.

  As the day passes at a dreadful pace, I get more anxious about her. Well, anxious about the bite. It has become a desperate need to see it. She’s outside with Harley practicing the crossbow on a big, spray-painted hay bale. I haven’t used it in a while because it’s falling apart from target use. They both see me and smile.

  “I like this thing, Kan!” Harley beams as his dark eyes glint in approval. His eyes cut to the target, aiming the crossbow. The arrow shoots out, hitting the hay bale, but not the target. I might feel smug for being a much better aim than he is. I can tell it’s new to him by the look on his face. I recognize it because my dad got the same look all the time, especially when he wanted to share something he learned with me.

  “Yeah, it’s sweet. As long as I don’t lose my arrows, I’ll never run out of ammunition. The main reason I chose archery. You can reuse the arrows until they bend or break.” I move closer to where they stand. “I have a book that teaches how to make them.” I point to the shaft part of the small arrow but switch gears by pushing forward with no grace or tact. “Nadine, may I see your bite?”

  I start to grab for her wrist, but she jerks away. “I’m sorry, Nadine, but I need to see your bite. I’m worried about you.” I say the last part quickly, trying to disguise my urgency with concern.

  It doesn’t work because Nadine stalks off without a word.

  “Sorry, she holds things in. I thought she’d come to terms with it, but obviously not.” Harley watches her go underground.

  “Maybe I’m paranoid, but she’s acting strange. She pulled an unloaded gun on me this morning.” I watch him run one of his rough hands through his hair and blow a rush of breath, causing his stubbly cheeks to puff.

  “I don’t know what to think about it, but I’ll get her to show the bite to me on the trip.” By his tone, it’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it. Guilt threatens to consume me for not being more sensitive to the situation. Wanting to talk to her, I go into the bunker to find her.

  She’s sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. Her knees are pulled up as far as they can go with her head tucked so I can’t see her face. She looks so small and defeated. I pull a box from beneath the counter. I have two-and-a-half bottles of tequila and the rest of the bottle of Jack Daniel’s. I choose the bourbon. After pouring a tumbler, I dawdle to Nadine. She still hasn’t looked at me.

  I put my hand on her shoulder, “Nadine?” I say in a small voice I don’t recognize. “Here, this might help you relax.” It’s hard not knowing how to deal with people. “I know you’re having a tough time. You’re so brave and strong. I crossed the line.”

  Suddenly, her head jerks. I yank my hand back with rising panic, and the drink sloshes around. Her face is red from crying, making her strawberry blond hair obtrusive. I breathe, safe with the knowledge she is not yet a zombie. She takes the drink with shaky hands.

  “Not so brave and strong now, am I? I don’t blame you. If I were you, I would have shot me yesterday,” she says matter-of-factly. I smile and she snorts a small laugh.

  She sips the whiskey as my heart steadies its beat to a normal pace. “I think I'll get one of those,” I say.

  Sipping my drink, I’m watching her as Harley ducks into the bunker. “Ready? I think I got the hang of the crossbow, so I’m ready when you are.” She nods as he helps her to her feet. She is steadier than I would’ve thought in her state of mind. Something isn't right with her.

  With Nadine and Harley gone, I start the corn cakes since the beans have been simmering all day. I got the corn cake recipe from a 'live like your ancestors’ book with simple recipes. It’s great for living on the land and how-tos for basic cleaning materials, like homemade soap. Luckily, I don’t have to make my soap. The soap I have comes from looting trips. The reference books my dad bought a year before the outbreak have come in handy. Everyone thought he was loony, but it looks like the joke is on them. I admit, I thought so too, but he was an intelligent man. A man worth listening to.

  Around sundown, I’m flipping corn cakes while Kale thumbs through an album of photographs and drawings of old, abandoned barns. I swallow a lump in my throat, not comfortable with what he’s doing. Bridget watches me make corn cakes as though learning a new task.

  “Do you want to make some?” I ask. She wa
shed her hair, and the blonde gleams, but her crude, uneven bob is distinct.

  “Sure,” she says, taking over my spatula and flipping them. “Who are the people in the pictures?” she whispers.

  I close my eyes. “Who do you think? My family,” I snap. She stares while I needlessly stir the pot of beans, hoping for a change in conversation.

  She continues anyway, “That guy doesn’t look much like your brother, was he adopted?” She must mean Malachi. He was family and was going to be for the rest of our lives. I frown into the pot of pinto beans.

  “No, he was my…” Boyfriend seems inadequate. I clear my throat. “We were together a long time.” I want to be mean, but it comes out softly. She wants to ask more, but the bunker door opens, saving me.

  I’m sad for whatever animal Harley caught. He ducks into the bunker, and Kale jumps from his spot on the couch.

  “You catch anything?” He must be hungry for meat. About that time, I notice the grim expression on Harley’s face, and Nadine isn’t with him.

  6

  Nadine turned without warning. To save himself, Harley shot her. I don’t want to think too much about this. Since she turned, it was probably like killing a human. He doesn’t give details, and no one asks. At least I don’t. I don’t want to even think about it. The mood is somber. Harley’s drinking bourbon from the bottle, too grief-stricken to get a glass. I don’t blame him, but I’m relieved it’s over. My relief isn’t shared by the other occupants of the bunker.

  Bridget left for the house without eating a while ago. I thought Kale might comfort her, but he didn’t. Instead, he shares the bottle with Harley. Soon, they are both drunk. Harley mumbles to himself for a while, something my mother had done. I don’t bother him. He falls asleep on the loveseat. I’m cleaning the mess from cooking corncakes when I feel hands on my hips.

  I shove him. “Kale, you’re drunk.” I try to keep the disgust from my voice. His hands return to roaming my sides and then my arms. He smells like dusty old clothes, his are eyes glassy, and when his lips crush mine, the alcohol vapors penetrate my nose. I hadn’t seen him drink much. He is skinny, with a boyish figure. Damned lightweight. I get a familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach from kissing someone for the first time in a long time. I go with it and open my mouth to him, putting my hands on his chest. He takes this as a sign, and his hands grope my rear. I push him away. He breathes, looking at me through his hair.

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask him. His hands slide around my hips and he tries to pull me toward him. I hold him at a distance with my palms.

  “You looked like a goddamned goddess of war.” He fiddles with one of my dreadlocks. I take a minute to figure out what he’s saying, because who says things like that? I guess the first impression stuck with him. I should use this opportunity to drill him for information. Where did they come from? What do they know? How long have zombies been so expeditious? Looking at him, I can’t do it. It’s impossible to bring myself to take advantage of him. I don’t want to give him the wrong impression even though it seems too late.

  “You should go to bed, Kale. We’ll talk tomorrow,” I say, elbowing him out of my personal space.

  He smirks the best he can, which is awkward, and plants another sloppy kiss. I silently wish him out of my bunker.

  He backs toward the door. “More where that came from,” he warns, stumbling. When he shuts the door of the bunker, I let out a breath.

  As much as I’m relieved he is gone, my heart leaps. I grin to myself. “I still got it.”

  Faces from the old life flow through my subconscious like spokes on a wheel. Laughter dissolves into snarls and fades out.

  “Do it, Kansas! Please! I don’t want to hurt you or become one.” Big brown eyes, glistening in the moonlight with unshed tears, plead with me. Warm blood splatters my face as it oozes across the concrete. It fades as I hear myself whimper.

  “We should have kept her,” my dad says, pacing tracks into the living room carpet. “It would’ve done you some good to know the stages of decomposition.” His injured face shows nothing but endless sadness.

  It diminishes again, my dad sweats, coughs, and gags. “You remember everything,” he rasps. “But most of all, remember how much I love you, Sunshine.”

  “No!” I scream in rage as it fades again.

  “Kan, let me help you!” A voice I don’t recognize yells. “I can’t help you if you don’t let me in, dammit!”

  I wake with a sheen of sweat covering my body. My tank top sticks to my skin. I search for Harley, but he’s no longer here.

  It was just a dream. A dream I dream all the time. I replay it in my mind. My family, creepy faces of the undead, are always the stars. Malachi screaming for me to kill him while looking at me with love. His bloody Predator’s shirt still haunts me. My dad grappling with my mother, his arm slipping from her shoulder, her teeth sinking into his jaw. All happening before I put an arrow through my mother’s brain. My dad, drowning in grief, his face red, puffy, and feverish. We shouldn’t have waited for my mother to turn.

  We wanted to see someone go through the change to learn every stage, every symptom. He made me swear I wouldn’t do it to another person. I couldn’t kill him like I did Malachi. Dad made it easier on me, and he hadn’t begged. He made me tie him down. I promised to finish it when the time came. My dad’s crazed bloodshot eyes, teeth grinding while drool dribbled down his chin onto his Apple, Inc. t-shirt.

  I'm always aware of a stranger who keeps helping me. I can’t see him, but I know he is there. My dreaming self is always glad for this part. It’s the only time I feel safe. Maybe my subconscious has wishful thinking. It was only a dream after all.

  As I’m getting dressed, I think about brushing my hair, which is a ridiculous notion. I wash myself and brush my teeth, sure. Brushing my hair? I haven’t cared about that in a long time, hence the dreads. I also like them, but I look more like a cave dweller in combat boots than a goddess of war. I like the description Kale gave me. I wrap a scarf around my head to keep my locks from my face.

  When I go outside my mood lifts as I realize it’s the middle of the day. How long will this weather last? It’s beautiful, sunny, and clear, but hot. The turning trees are drooping from the dry, hot days.

  “Summer doesn’t want to die,” I mumble to myself.

  I feel bad for not sympathizing about Nadine. I hardly knew her. I’m sad it happened, but glad it didn’t happen while we slept. Relieved it’s over. What’s Harley planning now?

  My mood drifts downward. There is a pond I spotted when I first scouted the area and laid trip string. I use it for swimming on hot days. It might have water. This time of year it’s usually too dry, but it’s worth checking out. I go into the bunker to change clothes for swimming. I contemplate making oats, but I’m not hungry. I’m sure Harley and Kale are still asleep. Bridget can fend for herself. Grabbing my pack, I toss in a pop-top can of fruit and head out. I’m so happy about the pond idea. I haven’t had a swim in a couple of months, and I love the opportunity to do different physical activities. My thoughts are interrupted by Kale.

  “Where you going?” He bellows, his head hanging out the door. I study him. Did I want to be alone with him? Not really.

  “I’m going to see if there is water in a pond maybe three miles south.” I start toward the door, but pause. “You and Bridget want to join me?” I try to act indifferent, but I don’t know if I succeed. “Shouldn’t you have a hangover?” Curiosity getting the best of me, I have to know.

  He flashes me a wicked smile, “Nah, I didn’t drink much. I couldn’t sleep. A swim sounds good.” He shakes his head to one side, dislodging the hair from his eyes.

  “Okay, but don’t get your hopes up. I don’t know if there is water in it. How is Bridget doing?” I ask, hoping she’s all right. She left in a hurry right after she found out about Nadine.

  “Uh, she’s not doing too good at all. I don’t think she’d want to go.” He sounds uncertain.

>   “Well, I’ll go ask her.” I start for the door again, but he blocks my way.

  “She’ll be fine. She’s with Harley.” He can only manage a half-smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. I didn’t realize how much Nadine affected him, too. She was like a mother to them, a confidante.

  “They’re talking about leaving soon, Kan.” I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps. “Could we try to have fun today?”

  My heart skips. They plan to leave. I have many mixed emotions. I like my life of seclusion and safety. Maybe one day the world will find a cure, pick up, and try to start over. I want to be around when that happens. Right now, it’s not safe. They’ll be fighting for their lives until they make it to Birmingham. They already lost one on the way. I’m not sure if I want to be alone anymore. I can’t make them stay, but I won’t make them leave. That is their decision.

  “Let’s have fun. I think we both need to take our minds off things,” I say with a smile, even though being alone with Kale isn’t a preference.

  Kale, seeing an opportunity to joke with me, laughs and says, “Don’t sound so enthusiastic.” At least his nervousness and anxiety are gone. I hope he can walk fast.

  We reach the pond in a little under an hour, my excitement growing the whole way. Considering the brush, we make good time. We whoop and cheer when we find water. The pond’s man-made, cut out in a semi-circle the size of a large gymnasium. The smell in the air is damp grass, mud, and stagnant water. Locusts buzz nearby. Kale and I can walk in or jump in at the other end which drops off like a cliff. There’s plenty of water, about five feet at the deepest part. I can see through the water to the murky bottom.