His emptions overwhelm him and he weeps. His sobs echo in his hands. She stands frozen, a whirlwind of terror and confusion consuming her. Markus takes another deep breath, attempting to stifle his sobs. He continues again, his voice hollow and weak.
“I-I didn’t know what to think. I just knew I had to get home. Traffic was really heavy. I was stopped at a light, by the on-ramp, when this car flew off the overpass. It just sailed off the side of the highway, like-like it was supposed to be doing that. It landed on the other side of the road, on top of some other cars, it crushed them. It fucking freaked me out. Everything just-just stopped.”
He takes another hard, tremble filled inhale, wiping tears from his face.
“People started getting out of their cars and approaching the wreck. I got out to get a better view, see if maybe I could help somehow. I watched, not really knowing what I should do. I mean, what do I know about this kind of thing? I’m not a doctor or anything like that. Someone said they saw a person move in the car on top, the one that flew off the highway. They raced over and tried to pry the door open but couldn’t.
“They climbed up and smashed the window in and pulled a young girl out. She was coughing up blood everywhere. She had a big hole in her side, and she was scrapped to hell. I don’t know how she was still conscious. I went to grab the towels we still had in the car from the pool. Before I could turn back around I heard screaming. When I did turn to look, that’s, that’s when it happened.”
His bottom lip pulls under, he bites the inside of his cheek. His eyes well again, the redness returning to his face.
“Out of nowhere that girl was attacking them. Just thirty seconds earlier she was a helpless mess, and now she was, she was...”
He trails again, his chest quivering. He wipes his face and snorts.
“The guy who brought her out of the car was on the ground, and she was on top of him, biting and clawing his face. One of the other people that was helping hit her in head. He hit her again and again, until she collapsed. She laid on the ground for maybe three or four seconds before she popped right back up, then rushed that guy. It stopped me in my tracks. The others there were yelling at him to stop, but, no one knew what was going on.
“He turned to them to say something and that little girl jumped on him. They pulled her off and tried to hold her back, but she wouldn’t stop. She kept kicking at them until they let her go. She jumped at a woman, caught her as she tried to run. The little girl knocked her down and started hitting her in the head, just clubbing her, over and over. Then, like a fucking bad horror movie or something, another person crawled out of the top car. He was screaming and gurgling. He jumped at the few people still standing near the wreck. He tackled one, and...”
His throat catches him, stopping up his words, his strength to continue failing him. Kylie’s mouth drops, her cheeks glisten the same as his. A long pause hangs between them. Markus sighs. A defeated gush of air exiting his body. He continues.
“I didn’t understand what was happening, I-I still don’t, not really. I headed back to the car, and some guy grabbed me from behind. He ripped my shirt trying to pull me to him. I grabbed him and shoved him over the median, then ran to the car. I was lucky I was in the far right lane, it was easy to speed out of there. It’s chaos out there right now, people are going crazy everywhere. On my way out of the city the violence slowed down a lot, but, it’s coming here. We can’t stay. We have to leave, we have to.”
Her face stretches out, her hand covers her mouth as the realization sets in. She whimpers at the thought of what this means for them and for their child. Her chest convulses as she tries to speak, to comfort her husband, to quell her own concerns, but she is able to mutter only two words.
“Oh, God!”
CHAPTER THREE
The morose hand moves up and down, up and down. Each time with more flesh and blood dripping between its decayed digits. There is a palm covering the little girl's mouth. Her eyes are fixed on her mother. The girl knows not to scream. The caretaker does not wince, she does not squirm, but she holds her hand tightly over her youngest daughter’s mouth.
There is so much blood. It’s spilling from her mother’s stomach, coating the ground, and smothering her tiny hand. It feels sticky and gross. She doesn’t scream, but she does cry. Her tears stream down her rigid face as she lay still next to her mother. The diseased doesn’t seem aware of her presence, at least not yet. The attention of the monster is fully held by the insides of the little girl's squirming mother. Suddenly, a light shines into the tent.
“Mom?!”
It’s not so much a question as it is a cry of disbelief, a refusal to accept the situation at hand. The little girl breaks her gaze from her mother to see her older sister standing at the entrance of their tent. Her older sister's face is stretched wide, riddled with fear. She screams, piercing and full of anguish.
The diseased turns its attention to the entrance, to her sister. It howls a wicked gurgle of evil. Her sister leaps forward and smashes the flashlight against the head of the blood soaked beast. The instrument bounces off the head of the monster and falls to the ground. The screams from the beast halt, its hands stretch out to the older sister. The panic stricken woman quickly grabs the shirt of the infected and pulls it to her. Her knife wedges under its jaw before its head can angle down to her arms. It slumps back against the side of their tent. The older sister drops to her knees next to their mother.
“Please, no, please, no, no, no.” her sister pleads with her mother, with God, with anyone who will listen.
Her body shakes violently as she kneels over their mother. Her hands frantically move about in the air, unsure of where she should touch or apply pressure. Their mother’s lips move but nothing comes, only short bursts of gasping. The little girl lays frozen, her mother’s hand still over her mouth.
Her sister’s sobs have reached a level of fits and her words are no longer discernible. Their mother’s gasps begin to form a letter.
“R...r...run, run, run....” she trails off into a struggle of wheezes, her hand loosens.
“No, no, no. M...mom...mom...” the distraught sister begs.
Her sister’s sobs have turned to hyperventilating as she herself struggles to allow air through. The light from her sister’s flashlight shines past the little girl, and against the wall of the tent behind her. It’s not as bright as it should be, something is breaking the light. The little girl slowly turns her head away from her sister to see hands running along their tent, pressing against it.
“Regan!” the little girl exclaims, still not screaming.
Her sister, now clutching her mother’s hand, does not respond.
“Regan!” the young child says again, a little louder, but no response is given.
The little girl sits up and grabs her sister’s arm, finally gaining her attention. Regan’s face washes white as she realizes there are more diseased. Their tent is being pressed down upon and is beginning to collapse.
“Mom said run.” the words barely limp from the little girl’s mouth.
Regan grabs her younger sister by the arm and pulls them out of the tent just as it collapses to the ground.
“We need to-”
Regan’s words are cut short as a sordid and morose hand lunges from the darkness, grabbing her head. Another hand follows grabbing her neck, and another on her arm, and another, and another, and then, Regan disappears. The little girl hears her older sister struggling and screaming, but once again she also hears that singular sound of flesh being pulled from bone.
“RUN ROSALINE RUN!” is shouted from the darkness. From beneath gurgles and pain.
The little girl turns from her place and runs. Her little legs have never moved so quickly, or with such purpose. She can feel the diseased behind her. She knows their hands are stretched out trying to claim her for their own, just as they have done to her mother and sister, but she does not look back. She keeps running.
◆◆◆
Rosaline shoots upright from her sleeping state. Her hands are clammy, her breathes are deep and heavy, her shirt is drenched in sweat, and her heart pounds just as it did that night.
“You were having the bad dream again.” Mikey says, his voice low and sweet.
It isn’t until he speaks that Rosaline realizes he is already gripping her hand as tightly as he can.
“Yeah.” she replies, gripping him back.
Something about the way he embraces her always calms her down. He is her world. She runs her hand through her dark hair and closes her eyes, trying to slow her breathing.
“Did you sleep?” she asks, in between panting.
“A little. You were shaking and it woke me up.” he replies as he sits up and rubs her back.
She puts her arm around him and pulls him close to her, “I’m sorry buddy.” she says.
He lays his head against her chest and hugs her tightly.
“It's okay.”
She kisses his head and lays back down, keeping him close to her.
“Still a little while before sunrise, try to sleep again.” -her hand gently strokes his hair- “We’ll cook the other rabbit in the morning before we leave.”
Ever since that night Rosaline has never slept on low ground. Always on top of a building, or in the top floor of a house after barricading the stairs, or in a tree, or on top of a vehicle, but never, ever on low ground. It was the most painful way to learn this key to surviving, and she has never forgotten it.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Slow down!” Kylie yells at her husband. The tension in her voice is thick and unsettling. Her hand firmly grips the handle above the door, her gaze intently set on her husband. Markus doesn’t budge, keeping his foot heavy on the gas pedal.
“We need to get far away from the city! Away from people.” he says, his brow raised and his forehead wrinkled.
He is just as frantic as she is. Neither of them have been able to be the calm under pressure they each need the other to be. Patrick fidgets about with his Tonka truck in the backseat, blissfully unaware of the danger crashing down upon their world. The roads around here aren’t overblown with traffic yet, however precaution set in for Markus, causing him to journey down back roads as often as possible.
“What are we doing Markus?!” Kylie yelps again, still in a state of near hysterics.
His mouth opens but no words follow the action. Truthfully, he has no idea what they should do. Something like this can't be planned for, not by the every day person. A wide scale disease outbreak doesn't have an instruction manual. “Where is safe? Is there even safety anywhere?” his thoughts crash about inside him. It guts him to realize that he doesn’t know these answers. That is what pains him the most. The thought of not being able to take care of his family. He wouldn’t dare say this to his wife, and certainly not with the state she’s in, or he's in for that matter.
Something in him is telling him to get far away from population. This is always what they do in the movies. He’s not naïve. He knows the movies aren’t real. The disease infects people which makes people the threat, so getting far away from large groups of people seems like the best idea.
His brother lives pretty far out in the country. Pete has never been one for social activities. He's always been viewed as the strange one in the family, the black sheep. This didn’t really affect their relationship. They were always close growing up. They even worked in the same job field for a while, but Pete’s propensity for solitude eventually won out.
Pete is a very intelligent man and a quick study. He only lasted a year in the nine to five office setting. Too many people, and he liked being outside. He started working for a construction company. He watched how they operated, saved his money, and when the time felt right he took out a loan and started his own construction business. It’s not much, but it’s enough to allow him to live in the means he enjoys.
After Pete married June they moved to the country. It was there they started their family. Pete’s business has maintained just enough success for them. They have two boys. Markus and Kylie haven’t been out to see Pete, June, and their nephews since Patrick was born. This always bothered Markus. He calls Pete at least once a week to check in on him. Their conversations are short but pleasant. Markus knows his brother loves him, and he understands he has his own way. He accepts that. He’s pretty much the only one in their family that does.
It’s not quite a straight shot to Pete’s house, but staying off the main roads is achievable for most of the travel. The road they’re on now is the one they’ll remain on for the majority of the trip.
“Markus!” she exclaims.
His face is a blank slate. Kylie can’t figure what he’s thinking. She calls his name again and finally him snaps out of his daze.
“We’re going to Pete and June’s. We’ll figure the rest out there with them. You know how Pete is. No one around his place for miles.”
He questions whether or not to finish his thought. He already knows what her reaction will be, but she needs to be prepared for the worst. That’s all he can think about.
“And he’s got guns.”
Her jaw drops, just as he suspected it would.
“Guns?! Do you really think that’s going to be necessary?!”
Her question is appropriate, he knows that.
“I don’t know honey.” he says as his gaze moves to her.
She’s afraid, he is too. He doesn’t know what to say to comfort her. Hell, he doesn’t know what to say to comfort himself. All he can say is exactly what he’s thinking.
“But I’m not going to let anything happen to us. No matter what.”
Her hand rubs the back of his neck. She, too, knows they’re both afraid. She knows he feels like it’s his job to protect them, and she knows he’s doing his best. There is no plan in this situation, no course of proper action to be taken. All they can do is what they feel is right. Something sick and disturbing is happening in the world. Something they never thought they would ever have to live through. They don’t know if it’s temporary. They don’t know how bad it really is.
Telephone lines are backed up. Markus couldn’t get a call out to anyone. She couldn’t either. They don’t know if their families are safe. They don’t know if their friends are safe. They don’t know how much further the disease has spread, where it came from, or when it truly first started. They don’t know anything. That is what frightens her the most. This feeling of total helplessness and confusion. All they can do is stay together and try to protect their son.
“Baby, I know you wont. I-”
Movement in the corner of her vision catches her attention. Her head snaps back to the front of the car. The deer isn’t moving, just standing directly in the middle of the two lane road.
“MARKUS!!” she screams, terror surging in her voice.
His eyes move back to the road just in time to see a flash of brown. He jerks the steering wheel to the left, swerving away from the deer. The car rattles as its back end collides with the fearful animal. Markus attempts to pull the car back onto the road, but the mud provides no traction. He slams on the brakes, but it’s too late, the tree is too close. The car crashes head on into the stationary evergreen. The last image the distraught father sees is a flash of gray from his own steering wheel just before it impacts his face. His mind begins to fade, the sound of his son crying out in fear rings through his ears, and then, the light cuts out.
CHAPTER FIVE
The hours blend into days, the days blend into the weeks, the weeks blend into months. If it wasn’t for the calendar he keeps with him he would’ve lost his since of time long ago. Loss, such is the case for Karo. He’s felt for years he doesn’t know anything anymore.
His life is one of anguish. His days are filled with depression. Morbid questions constantly run through his mind. He tells himself he shouldn’t think these thoughts, that he doesn’t try to, but that’s a lie. These are the only thoughts he ever has. Well, these and the nightmares.
He’s killed so many. Is it even technically killing at this point?
The diseased certainly have no issue with it. There is no divide, not in this vicious world. It’s kill or be killed, and for some reason he will not relent. He will not give up. To do that, to make that choice, feels wrong to him.
He hasn’t come across a real person in almost two years. He’s encountered some diseased that could speak, but they’re not people. The disease itself is evolving. People are aware of what’s happened. They know to avoid the afflicted, to avoid cities, and so this cruel blight against humanity has evolved, has adapted.
It was a shock the first time he heard one speak. It could only say one word and it kept saying it over and over. It said, “Help.” as it walked toward him. Karo told it to stay back, not to come closer, but it would not halt. Karo did what he has done so many times, he did what now feels natural to him, he killed.
For a while after this experience he pondered if he should’ve tried to lend aide. Did he make a mistake? Could that have really been a person in need? That subsided when he happened upon a whole group of them. All of them were asking for help. Their lifeless eyes missing the spark within them that only accompanies cognizance.
This is when he knew the very worst that could happen has occurred, the adapting. He’s not sure how long they had already been able to speak, but since the first encounter that development has increased rapidly. He has now witnessed the diseased speak full sentences. It’s always a notion of need. “Please, help me.” or “I need help.” or the far more devious “Do you need help?”
The world shouldn’t be like this, life shouldn’t be like this. Someone, somewhere, made a grave mistake, or far worse someone succeeded greatly. Karo has met many people since his banishment. Some have been hostile and he was forced to deliver finality. Others have been kind.
A World Fallen Page 2