by Tahnee Fritz
I blink my eyes, letting the first of many tears fall to my cheeks. The only person left in my family is about to leave me forever and there’s absolutely nothing I can do to stop it. The only cure in the entire world for this disease will have him ending up as a zombie, a fate worse than death.
I don’t want to accept this. I don’t want to know that my dad is about to not be my dad anymore. My heart is breaking and the more I try to stop, the more everything hurts.
I shake my head and say, “No, you can’t leave me.”
He blinks a few times, “I don’t want to, but you know I...I have to.”
“What am I going to do without you, dad?” I say, trying not to sound as upset as I feel.
He takes a breath and swallows hard, “You are going to survive. I know you can, Bridget, you...you are capable of anything.”
I shake my head, “I can’t do this without you. I can’t do this alone.”
“Yes...yes you can. I’ve seen you do amazing things to keep us safe, you can continue to do those things.” He says, taking a breath between just about every word he says.
I sniffle and wipe the tears from my eyes, “But I can’t do this, I can’t kill...”
He stops me before I can finish, “Hand me my bag.”
I nod and reach for it. He takes it and unzips the front pouch on the bag. He pulls out the small gun I found with the family last night at the rest stop. Then, he pushes his bag aside and holds the gun in his hand.
“I will do it...while there’s still time. While I’m still...myself.” He says.
I stare at the gun, then back at his face. The effects from that vamp’s bite are starting to show even more now that I know what happened to him. The paleness of his skin, the dull hue to his eyes, he’s starting to change and there isn’t much time for him to stop the process. If he doesn’t take his own life soon, the sun will take it for him. It will be a far more painful death if he waits for that.
He squeezes my hand and looks up into my eyes, “You will survive, Bridge. You promise me that you will do whatever it takes to keep on living. It will be hard, but I know you can do it. Promise me now.”
The lump in my throat makes it hard for me to say anything, but I force myself to speak, “I promise, dad. I love you.”
I wrap my arms around him and hold him for a few long seconds. I can feel his arms around my back as well and can hear him sobbing against my shoulder. There’s no worse feeling in the world than knowing in a few minutes you will be completely alone without anyone else on the planet to care about you. Without someone else there to make sure you are on the right path and are going to make it through this terrible life on your own. In a few short minutes, my life will be over.
Dad takes his arms away from me and I force myself to let go. He looks into my eyes and I really try not to let everything out and burst into tear filled sobs. That’s not how I want our last moment to go.
“Bridget?” he says.
“Yeah, dad?”
“Do you remember that silly little lullaby...your mother made up? The one she used to sing to you guys when you were kids?” he asks.
I nod, “Yeah, I remember it.”
“Good. You need to sing it for me...one last time.” He says. “I want you to get up and walk away...singing me that lullaby. I want it to be the last thing...I hear. Don’t look back, Bridge, just keep going and keep singing me that song. Do you understand me?”
“Yeah.” I say through tears.
“Then take my bag and go.” he orders. “Just remember that I...I love you and I will always love you. I will always be with you, right by your side, just like the rest of the family. We will be right there with you.”
I nod, “I know, dad. I promise I’ll do my best to survive. I love you.”
I grab his bag and stand up. I force myself to walk away from him and think of the song my mom made up when I was younger. She used to sing it to me, Charlie, and Maggie when we couldn’t get to sleep. It will now be the last thing my father hears just before he pulls the trigger on his own life. I get to the other side of the little shack before I start to sing the lullaby.
I take a deep breath, “Everything is gonna be alright,” the words shake as they come out of my mouth, “as long as you can get to sleep tonight.” I sniffle and wipe my eyes, “Just lay your weary head in bed and you will sleep,” I pause for a second and try swallowing the lump in my throat, “just like the dead.”
I can’t believe it has taken me until this very moment to realize how wrong that one line of the song is. With most of the dead walking around amongst the living, there’s no telling what they sleep like. I keep walking, though, trying to sing the lullaby loud enough so my father can hear me. Any second now I know my world will be shattered.
I wipe more tears from my eyes and force myself to continue, “I know you don’t wanna close your eyes, but listen to my simple lullaby,” another sniffle, “and know that everything will be alright, because I love you,” the gunshot echoes around me and I drop to my knees, “sweet dreams and goodnight.” I finish the song.
Dad’s bag falls from my hand when I hit the ground. The tears don’t stop themselves and I don’t try to stop them either. The lump in my throat expands and I cover my face with my hands. A few mournful cries escape my throat and I don’t care if a million zombies or vamps are around to hear it. Let them come for me, let them take my life like they have taken the lives of everyone I care about. My entire family is dead because of them, I might as well join them.
I stayed in that spot for a couple hours. I took my backpack off and put it under my head and cried into it. The tears just won’t stop coming. No matter how hard I try, how much I beg myself to stop and get to my feet, my heart refuses to let me. It’s broken, most likely never to be fixed again, and there’s a tremendous amount of pain I can feel inside. Losing my brother didn’t hurt this much. When Maggie died, I was still able to move on and try to forget. Even when mom left us, I stayed strong. I still miss them and just thinking about them makes the tears come all the more. If there is a heaven up there somewhere, I really would like to think that dad is there with the rest of my family.
The rain has picked up again and I’m practically soaked. Not that it matters anymore. No one will be here to take care of me if I get sick anyway. Dad was the only person I had left and he was forced to take his own life because of what that damn vamp did to him. At least I was able to be there with him and say goodbye to him before he went. I didn’t get that chance with my mom and after what happened with dad, that horrible day plays over in my mind again.
It’s only been a little over a year now and I still remember everything perfectly. I was sitting outside of my grandparents’ house in Florida. Maggie had just died a few weeks earlier and we were all pretty upset about it. Dad ran to gather supplies. He wanted to get on the road and head north, thinking the sooner we get there, the better. I guess I should have been inside with mom that day, but I wanted to keep watch outside in case anything unexpected showed up. I knew there was something wrong with her and I still chose to stay outside.
My mom never got over Maggie’s death. Her eyes were constantly red and we always found her crying to herself. I know that in every family with more than one kid, the parent always has a favorite but they never let it show. Mom was letting it show that Maggie was hers. She didn’t cry as much over Charlie and she never really spent a whole lot of time with me. We had our moments, but I was more of a daddy’s girl than anything. Maggie was the one who stayed in mom’s heart the longest. She loved each of us kids with all her heart, but my sister would always hold a special place. I’m guessing it’s because she was her first born child and there’s always a special bond there.
It was such a nice sunny day outside. I was actually looking forward to getting on the road and heading somewhere new. It’s amazing how a single gunshot can ruin even the best of moments. Dad’s last gunshot sounded much like my mom’s. It echoed through the air around me jus
t the same and broke my heart into a million pieces the same as well. I remember running back inside the house and calling for my mother who would never answer. I found her on the bed in my grandparents’ room with the gun still in her hand. She would rather end her life than go on living with what was left of her family. Makes me wonder what was going through her mind when she pulled the trigger. If she was thinking of me and dad or not. I’d like to hope that she was, at least for a moment.
Thunder claps above my head and I snap back to reality. I hate thinking of that day, but I know I’ll hate thinking of this one even more. It’s not that I didn’t love my mom, I did with all my heart. Dad was all I had left and he’s gone. I won’t get to have any random conversations with him about what day it might be or have fun killing zombies and vamps with him. Whatever is left of my journey, will be spent utterly alone with only myself to talk to.
But I have to stay strong. I have to keep on going and survive this world that dad left me in.
I sit up on the ground and wipe the tears from my face. I’m sure my eyes are bright red and tear stains are on my cheeks. I glance back to the small shack. Dad is still sitting on the other side, never to move again. I know he told me to go on. To never look back.
I can’t do that.
I can’t just leave him sitting there in the open. I’ve been to places where dozens of rotting corpses cover the streets and I wonder what kind of person they must have been to not deserve a burial. Most of them were probably zombies, but of the few that weren’t, they deserved the small amount of respect to be given a decent funeral. Dad deserves that and I’ll be damned if that’s not what he gets.
My heart is still aching as I force myself to stand. I grab my bag along the way, then reach down for dad’s as well. I saunter back toward the metal shack and toss the bags on the ground next to it. I can’t risk leaving them out of sight in case someone decides to sneak up on me. I pause before turning the corner to where dad is sitting. It’s the last thing I want to do in the world, see him lying dead in the mud. So, in order to give myself a few more minutes of not seeing him like that, I decide to check out the inside of the shack.
The door bangs against the wall when I push it open and it sounds just like the thunder overhead. Luckily there are no living or nonliving things dwelling inside. My eyes scan the place, the few dismantled shelves hanging on the wall across from me. Rain water splashes on the tops of old paint cans and the wooden shelves. The ground is nothing other than mud and leaves and a few pieces of metal. I take a step inside and continue to look around. A garden hoe leans against the wall and on the ground next to it is something that almost makes me smile.
A shovel.
The handle is broken, but it should still get the job done. I walk over to it and lift it from the ground. I back up to the doorway and look around once more to make sure there’s nothing else I could use. I’m positive I’ll have no use for an old barrel or any of the cans of the presumable hardened paint. That would only weigh me down. With my free hand, I wipe the rain and tears out of my eyes and turn around to leave the shack only to witness a horrible figure about twenty feet from me and closing in.
It growls at me as it drags itself toward me. Blood stains the once white shirt and blue jeans it’s wearing. Holes in its jeans reveal bruised and cut open skin. A few fingers on its right hand are missing and a there’s a decent sized gap at the top of its head with a piece of skin flapping around at it walks. It was at one point a man, it’s too far disfigured for me to distinguish an approximate age or anything. Soon it won’t matter who it was at one point in time or how old it was.
I keep my eyes on the zombie lumbering toward me. My gun is tucked inside my backpack. I forgot to take it out after I walked away from dad. I still have the shovel in my hand though. I’m sure I can make that work.
The growl grows more intense with every step it takes. I remain still and wait for it to get close enough. The tiniest part of me wants my hand to let go of the shovel and let this beast end my life so I can be with my family again. It would be an incredibly painful way to go out and it wouldn’t end quickly. A bigger part of me thinks of my dad and I know I have to do whatever it takes to live. He wouldn’t want to see me give up on life so easily and so soon after his death. I don’t to be one of those people who disappoints their parents and I am going to do whatever I can to survive.
I clutch the shovel tightly in my hand and move away from the shack. The zombie groans even louder and moves slightly faster. I can smell the death on it and see the blackness of its eyes. Whoever that man was at one point in time I really hope he’s not in there somewhere. I would hate for him to know what’s about to come next.
I raise the shovel above my head and stand like a baseball player. Just when it gets to the right position, I take a swing with the shovel and smack it right in the head. It flies back a couple feet and lands on the ground. Its arms are swinging around and legs are kicking at the ground. The moans coming from its throat sound labored and I move closer to stand over it.
There’s a burning sensation deep in my chest as I think of everything that’s happened to my family ever since the cure came to be. Those scientists ruined my life the day they created their precious miracle cure. My own kind ruined the lives of millions of people on this planet with just one tiny prick of a needle. What’s left of us are doomed to pay for their mistakes.
With all the anger I can muster up, which is quite a bit, I raise the shovel above my head again and let the anger of losing the people I love flow through my veins. The anger of having to go through the rest of my life without anyone flows out to my fingertips and into the shovel itself. I let out a grunt as my arms bring the shovel down on the zombies head with a loud bash. I can hear its skull breaking as I hit it again and again. Brown mush and bits of its brain fly through the air, landing on the ground and I take one last swing with the shovel. Whatever life was left in that man is gone now and his soul can finally have peace.
I stare down at what I’ve done. There isn’t much left of the zombies head. A broken pile of ooze and bits of skin and bone. A few tufts of hair stick out and I can see some stuck to the blade of the shovel. A little bit got on my boots, but I don’t care anymore. There’s no point in caring in material things. I let the shovel drag on the ground behind me as I walk away from the corpse.
The next thing I have to do, find a nice spot to dig a hole big enough to bury my father.
It took longer than I expected to dig a grave for my dad. The sky is growing dark as I finish with the hole. It’s only a couple feet deep, but deep enough for a grave. I stab the earth with the shovel and stare at my hard work. I had to guess at how long to make it and used myself as a model. I made sure it was at least a foot taller than me because dad is a few inches taller and the grave needed to be big enough. I found a shallow puddle where rain water has collected and wash my hands in it. With the small amount of daylight that’s left, I need to get this finished.
The grave isn’t far from the shack. I didn’t want to have to drag my dad too far across the ground to get him there. I still haven’t been able to bring myself to go to his body. Time is growing short and that’s all I have left to do. I saunter to the shack and go around to the side where his body is still leaning against the metal frame. I take a deep breath before stepping around the corner and see him sitting there.
He’s slouched over a bit, the gun is still in his hand resting in his lap. He didn’t shoot himself in the head, that wouldn’t kill a vampire. He aimed the gun at his heart when he pulled the trigger. The blood is still wet on his grey shirt and I steady myself as I approach him. My hands are shaking, my heart is pounding uncontrollably in my chest. I stare down at my father, wishing he would wake up and this would all be a nightmare. That he would look up at me with a goofy smile on his face telling me it was all for fun. Sure I would hate him for a little while, but that hate would dwindle.
But my dad isn’t going to wake up. This isn’t the kind of
nightmare I wish it was and I’m still going to be alone for god knows how long.
The lump comes back to my throat as I move closer to him. The only way to do this is to do it quickly and get it over with. I grab the gun from his hand and toss it away from me. I never want to see that horrible life ender ever again. It destroyed the lives of that family back at the rest stop and now it has taken my father from me too.
Next, I have to command myself to grab his arms and pull him away from the shack. I struggle, thanking whatever god is out there that my dad was not an overweight fellow. Being on the road meant we had to be in decent shape and he was pretty well built. It takes me a few seconds, but eventually his limp body falls away from the metal wall. I move my hands under his arms from behind him and dig my heels into the ground in order to drag him to the grave. With the rain that fell all day, the grass is slick therefore easy to drag a body across it. Still a struggle, still took a few minutes, but I got the job done and made it to the grave.
I lay his body inside and it’s the perfect size for my dad. I walk back to the shack and pick up his old jacket still lying where he left it. I carry it back to the grave and cover my dad up with it. I drape it over his chest, hiding the bullet wound, then I climb out of the grave. I go back to the shovel and pull it out of the ground.
I stare up at the sky, it’s getting darker with every passing second. Rain still falls and I’m completely soaked. My eyes move down to my father’s body. This will be the last time I stare at his face. This will be the last image I have of him. His pale face, the purple bags still under his eyes, his hair matted down by the rain. This isn’t how I’ll remember him. I’ll remember the good days we had when we were just goofing around on our travels. The times where we had absolutely nothing to say to each other but the day was still great because we were together and we kept each other alive.
I’ll never forget any of the moments I shared with my father. Whatever memory I have with him will always be in my heart. From before the vamps and zombies took over the world, to just the other day when we were sitting around a campfire with our new friends eating a hearty meal of bread and old chicken. These are the memories I want to keep forever. These are the things I will have with me until the day I meet my end. He’ll always be with me, in my heart, my mind, everywhere. He’ll be there, watching out for me with the rest of my family to make sure I survive this world. It might feel like I’m completely alone, but I know they are going to be there with me in some way, shape, or form. They’ll always be there.