Apocalyptic Beginnings Box Set

by M. D. Massey

  The poor kid looked like he was about to break. I wanted to make Jase take off his shirt to prove he hadn’t been bitten, but instead I kept one hand near my pistol and put the other hand on his shoulder. “Well, let’s get you cleaned up then.”

  He wiped his nose and then nodded, taking a few steps with me toward the house. Then he stopped and pulled away. “Wait. I can’t leave Betsy…”

  Frowning, I watched as he went around to the other side of the SUV. He returned, carrying what looked to be a small collie. Much of the fur on her back was matted with blood, and her eyes were glazed over. Whenever Jase moved, she whimpered.

  I grimaced. Betsy looked in bad shape. With the amount of blood on her fur and covering Jase’s shirt, I doubted even a vet could help.

  When we reached the house, I didn’t open the door. “Listen, Jase. You know how contagious zed blood is. You and Betsy can come into the mudroom, but you can’t come inside, not until you’re both cleaned up and in the clear. Got it?”

  Jase nodded and sniffled again.

  “All right.” I opened the door and he stepped inside, cradling the dog to his chest.

  Inside the mudroom, I rummaged through the cabinets until I found where Clutch kept his rags and cleaning towels. I grabbed the thickest one in the pile and made a nest on the floor. Jase carefully set Betsy down on the towel, but she still yelped at the movement, her back legs kicking out. He collapsed next to her, keeping a hand on her, and making small cooing sounds.

  I left them, locking the door behind me. It took some time, but I found a disposable plastic bowl that would work. I returned to Jase a few minutes later to find him petting Betsy. The motions seemed as soothing to him as it was for the dog. I set down the plastic bowl full of water near Betsy, but I doubted she’d drink. Her eyes had closed, her breathing labored.

  I put a glass of water on a shelf near Jase before taking a seat across from them. The news had said that dogs didn’t turn, that bites were simply fatal, but I kept a close watch on both the collie and the teen, anyway. I’d left the .22 in its holster but had it ready.

  “Mom turned first,” Jase said softly. “Dad told me to leave the room, but I stayed and watched. He shot her. Right in the head. He had to shoot her twice before she quit moving. God, the blood…” He sucked in a breath. “Then Dad, he turned the rifle on himself, but he just couldn’t do it.” He rested his head on the wall behind him. “We’re Catholic, ya know. He couldn’t do it. He shot Mom because it wasn’t murder since zeds don’t have souls. But he had to be able to get back to Mom.”

  I stayed silent. I didn’t voice my thought that Frank had been selfish. No boy should be asked to kill his own father.

  As Jase spoke, his voice became stronger. “So he handed the rifle to me. He hated himself for it. I could tell. But I didn’t mind. He was my dad, ya know? He raised me good.” His voice cracked and it took him a couple breaths to continue. “It was my turn to take care of him. But, then he started to turn…and then I…”

  He looked at me then. “I couldn’t do it. When he looked at me, I thought that he was still in there, somewhere, but then he came at me. I stumbled back and tripped. Dad—no, he wasn’t Dad anymore—when he growled at me, I knew he was gone.”

  Jase’s gaze went to the collie, her breaths had become weak and shallow. “Betsy was yapping, and then she jumped at him. Can you imagine a twenty-three pound fur ball flying through the air?” He chuckled, and then put his head in his lap. “He picked her up, just like he did every day to let her kiss him. Except this time, he bit into her. God,” he cried out. “He just kept biting and biting. Betsy was crying out so loud. I raised the rifle and started shooting. I shot at him until the mag was empty, but he didn’t even slow down. So I ran at him. I used the butt of the rifle to nail him in the head. I don’t know how many times I hit him before he finally let her go.”

  Jase sighed. When he spoke again, the words were just a whisper. “At least Dad’s with Mom now.”

  I found my lip trembling. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

  “It’s my fault. If I’d shot him when I should have, Betsy wouldn’t have been bitten. She’d be fine now. She jumped in to save me. It’s my fault.”

  “No,” I scolded. “We all make our own choices. You waited because you loved him. Betsy attacked because she loved you. Don’t drown out her bravery with your regret. Honor her by holding memories of her bravery.”

  He sniffled and scratched behind the dog’s ears. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Betsy Baby.”

  The dog showed no reaction, and Jase leaned forward and hugged onto her.

  My vision blurred, and I looked away, while the boy said good-bye to his dog.

  After several minutes, when I was confident that Betsy wasn’t coming back, I climbed to my feet and stepped outside to give the kid space. From inside, I could hear Jase sobbing.

  I walked out to the small shed, grabbed a shovel, and picked out a patch of grass under a shade tree. It took me over forty minutes to dig a hole that would hold a twenty-three pound bundle.

  By the time I returned, I was pleasantly surprised to discover a boy, not a zed. Jase’s face was red and blotchy, but he’d stopped crying. His hand rested on Betsy. His eyes held a faraway look that I’d seen in Clutch’s gaze every now and then. It was a look of someone who’d been to hell and didn’t get out in one piece.

  Something tugged Jase back, because his eyes slowly focused on me. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it.

  “I have a nice spot picked out back,” I said, breaking the silence.

  With thin lips, he carefully wrapped the collie into the towel and followed me. He clutched his precious package against him and kissed her before setting her down gently in the center of the hole. I intentionally moved slowly and dropped the first shovel of dirt carefully onto the bloodied towel. Jase clasped his hands together and his lips moved as he recited prayers.

  “I didn’t bury them,” he said aloud. “Mom and Dad. I-I couldn’t do it.”

  I paused. “I’ll see that they get a proper burial.”

  He swallowed visibly, and then nodded.

  I went back to shoveling. The hole filled in quickly, until a small mound of black soil was all that remained of Betsy. Leaning on the shovel, I looked at Jase. He was clearly exhausted. The poor kid should be at school, hanging with his friends, not burying his family. We had about an hour before the sunset. “I’m going to get started on dinner,” I said. “Take all the time you need.”

  With that, I left Jase to mourn. If he hadn’t turned yet, I figured the odds were low that he would. I returned the shovel to the shed, and headed back inside, locking the front door behind me, just to play it safe. Jase knocked just a few minutes later. I grabbed a garbage bag and went out to meet him. He’d already kicked off his tennis shoes. I held open the bag. “Anything with blood on it goes. Leave the shoes outside.” Though I had my doubts, I added, “We’ll see if we can scrub them clean tomorrow.”

  “I packed clothes. They’re still outside,” Jase said in a daze.

  “You can grab them in the morning,” I said, still holding out the bag.

  In went his T-shirt, then his jeans and socks, and I looked him over for bites. Other than some bruises and a few scratches, he looked unharmed. But the scratches worried me.

  When he went to pull his boxers off, I stopped him. “If there’s no blood on them, toss them into the washer in the mudroom on your way in. The shower is on the second floor. I’ll grab some clothes for you, and set them outside the bathroom door for you.”

  “Thanks, Cash,” he said and I moved to let him in.

  “And be sure to scrub good and hard.” After a moment, it hit me that I’d just echoed words Clutch had told me the first night.

  While Jase showered, I set three steaks under the broiler, skipping the sides. I was simply too hungry and too tired to go to the effort. I jogged upstairs and stopped outside Clutch’s bedroom door. I reached for the handle but p
aused. I’d never been in there, and it felt almost like I’d breach some unspoken rule by stepping inside.

  Instead, I turned and headed into my room and grabbed a pair of long johns and a T-shirt from my pile. They’d fit Jase better than they fit me and would get him through the night. Dropping the clothes at the bathroom door, I hustled back downstairs and finished cooking the steaks.

  I wrapped Clutch’s steak in tinfoil and set it in the refrigerator. Each of the remaining steaks went on a plate. Just like Clutch had done, I drizzled steak sauce over each steak and grabbed a bag of potato chips.

  Jase came down the stairs. “I’m not very hungry tonight.”

  I dumped some chips on both plates, and handed him a plate. “Eat. You need to keep your energy up.”

  He followed me like a lost puppy into the living room, much like I’d felt four days earlier. I took an edge of the couch and motioned for Jase to sit. I wolfed my steak down while he pecked at his. After cleaning off my plate, I grabbed a beer. I’d almost grabbed two but changed my mind and poured a glass of water instead for Jase. After a quick stop in Clutch’s office for something I’d need later, I scanned through the TV and radio stations but came across nothing but static.

  Clutch had left his phone at home, and I sent an email to my parents. Even though I suspected no one was left to read them, I kept writing them. I needed to send the email as much as I hoped my parents read them. By the time I sent the email, Jase had finished his dinner. He looked out of place, and I wondered if I’d looked that insecure when Clutch took me in. “Let’s get you to bed,” I said, coming to my feet.

  That it wasn’t yet nine and Jase didn’t object was a clear sign the kid was beat. He followed me up to my room. Instead of turning on the light, I said, “Now that the sun has set, don’t use lights upstairs. We don’t have the windows upstairs boarded, and the light is too easy to see from a distance.”

  “Okay,” Jase said as he felt out the dark room.

  Even though he didn’t act sick, I knew what I needed to do. I pulled out the zip ties I’d picked up in the office. “Listen, Jase…”

  He turned around, noticed the plastic. His eyes widened and he took a step back.

  I sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to do this, but it’s a necessary precaution until we have this whole zed virus figured out. If you turn, and I’m asleep, well, you see what I’m saying. We both know you’re bigger and probably stronger than me. If you fight, I won’t be able to get these on you. So I’m asking you…please let me tie your ankles and wrists. It’s only for tonight and it’s just a minor discomfort. Come morning, if you’re healthy, the ties will come off. Will you do that for me, Jase?”

  After a moment, he nodded and then took small steps toward me. He gave me his back, and I strung the restraint around his wrists, careful to not make them too tight but making sure they would do the trick. I went to the bed and pulled back the blankets. Jase laid down in an almost robotic manner, and I pulled the strap around his ankles.

  Stepping back, I tried to smile. “I know it’s not comfortable, but it’s only for one night. Try not to think about it.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, rolling to his side. “I get it.”

  I patted his back. “You’re a good kid, Jase.”

  “I’m not a kid,” he muttered.

  Sadness pricked at my heart. “No, you’re not.” Not after today.

  I locked his door, and headed downstairs. I cleaned the mudroom and headed back inside, leaving the SUV and everything inside for tomorrow. At eleven, after a hot shower, I locked the door, figuring I’d hear Clutch drive in. I curled up on the sofa and passed out within seconds.

  I was dreaming of cans rattling when something niggled at my subconscious, a warning percolating to the surface.

  Cans rattling…

  I shot awake.

  The sound of tin banging against tin continued. I jumped up from the sofa and grabbed my belt with the .22 and knife strapped on and was ready to go. That the cans still rattled was an ominous sign that a shitload of zeds was passing through.

  Once I pinpointed the direction the sound was coming from, I opened the window. From the outside, the window was completely covered by wood two-by-sixes, except for small sniper holes covered by plywood sliders.

  With a clear night sky and a full moon, the yard was brighter than the living room, and I sighed in relief. Only one adult zed. It was hard to make out any more details in the dark at this distance. Sure enough, the dumb bastard had snagged the tripwire and was now dragging a line of cans as it lumbered across the yard.

  I don’t know if zeds retained some hint of humanity and they sought out houses or if it was a predatory instinct. Whatever it was had the zed heading straight toward the house as it sniffed at the air. I scanned the yard for more, but saw no others.

  I glanced at the .22 in my hand. My heart hammered a warning: don’t go out there.

  I headed into Clutch’s gun room and used only a flashlight to not screw with my night vision. I shone the light over the guns, settling on a cluster of hunting-style rifles and shotguns that looked less complicated than the black military-style rifles. I grabbed the rifle in the middle that looked the most straightforward but also big enough to get the job done.

  Holding the flashlight in my mouth, I checked the weapon, burning precious time since I really had no idea what I was doing. Once I verified that its magazine was loaded, I turned off the light and headed back to the window.

  Careful to be silent, I slid the barrel through the sniper hole and took aim. The zed was less than a hundred feet away and lumbering through an open area, spotlighted by the moon.

  I pulled the trigger.

  Nothing. Not even a click.

  Mentally cursing, I pulled the rifle back and looked at it. Stupid safety. I slid the black switch and aimed again. My first shot clipped the zed’s neck and nearly knocked it down, but it kept coming. The recoil kicked my collarbone, sending white pain shooting through my shoulder. It took me a moment to fix my aim.

  “Cash?” Jase called out from upstairs.

  “Just a zed passing through,” I said. “Go back to sleep, Jase.”

  I took a deep breath. The second shot took out the zed.

  Silence filled the night.

  My collarbone pulsed from the recoil.

  I knelt against the window, watching, waiting for more zeds to show up at the sound of the shots.

  After my knees hurt and my tired eyes could no longer focus, I closed the sniper hole, switched the safety back on, and collapsed on the sofa.

  My grip on the rifle never relaxed as I faded off to sleep.

  I awoke the next morning to find Clutch watching me. He was in his recliner, eating steak sandwiched between two biscuits. He was wearing the same clothes from yesterday, and he looked utterly exhausted.

  “You cut your hair,” he said, rubbing his shoulder.

  I sat up and ruffled my hair, and found that it was sticking up everywhere. After a couple attempts at trying to tamp it down, I gave up. “Your warning system works,” I said. “A zed snagged on it last night.”

  Clutch nodded like he’d already seen the corpse. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I reached for the rifle but realized it was gone. I glanced around, but it was nowhere in sight. I paused and remembered the most important thing. “Jase is staying with us now.”

  “I know,” he replied with his mouth full. “I saw the SUV outside.”

  I came to my feet. “I should go check on him.”

  Clutch swallowed. “Already did. He’s not sick, so I cut him loose, and he’s out cold.”

  I let out a deep breath and closed my eyes. “Thank God.”

  “You did good.”

  I swallowed and faced Clutch. “About yesterday, I’m sorry. I—”

  “Do we have any eggs left?” he cut in, coming to his feet. He stretched his back, and his joints cracked and popped.

  I frowned. “Yeah, I think so. Why?”

/>   “I’m hungry. If you wouldn’t mind cooking up a couple for me, that’d be great.”

  I thought about pressing Clutch to talk more, but then I simply replied with a “sure” and headed for the kitchen to fry up several of our last dozen eggs. I stood there, thinking about Clutch. He was the sort to shove things deep down. If he didn’t want to talk about something, it was impressive how quickly he could change the subject. I imagined he’d done that his whole life. I already knew about the bad dreams—I heard the muffled sounds and curses he let out in his sleep. Twice I’d stopped outside his closed bedroom door. Once I touched the handle. But I hadn’t entered. Not yet, anyway.

  I slid eggs on each plate, and I paused by the mudroom. Inside the door was a pile of military and hunting gear. Lots of OD—olive drab—with tags still attached.

  I headed back to the living room and handed a plate to Clutch. He glanced up with his bloodshot eyes.

  “Where’d you find all the military stuff?” I asked, taking my seat.

  “There’s a surplus store in town, and it hadn’t been hit yet.”

  I raised a brow. “I figured that would be a hot place for looters.”

  “Me, too. Surprisingly, it wasn’t even locked. Most of its gear was still there.”

  “Any zeds?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

  The room was quiet, except for the clanging of forks on plates.

  “You were right yesterday,” I said quietly.

  Clutch paused for a second before taking another bite.

  “You’re right,” I said louder. “I’m not ready yet. But I will be. I swear it. The way I see it, there’s two types of people left in this world: survivors and victims. And I sure as hell plan on being a survivor. All I ask is that you give me a chance.”

  He gave a hint of a smile, but the dark circles under his eyes overshadowed any other expression.

  “Why don’t you get some sleep,” I offered. “I can work on whatever you need today. Once Jase is up, I can start getting him up to speed.”