The Darkest Days (Death & Decay Book 0.5)
Page 6
Wyatt leaned back against the wall, his legs no longer capable of keeping him upright, and slid down until he found himself resting on the floor. His eyes remained fixed on the small body that lay next to his feet.
He couldn’t look away from the tiny hand extended across the soft, tan carpeting. Those tiny fingers that had wrapped themselves around his own when Ben wanted him to see something. Those tiny fingers that had created so many messes. Those tiny fingers that would reach out to gently stroke his cheek. Those tiny fingers that would never do anything again.
His head fell to rest on his knees as sobs racked his body.
Day 5
6:55 pm
Eventually the tears refused to come and the sobs ceased. He had not wanted them to stop, but they simply refused to continue. Instead, he lay curled up on the floor as he desperately tried to keep reality at bay.
Suddenly, he was struck by an intense and shameful realization. Wyatt leapt to his feet and strode over to where Sarah lay motionless on the floor. He tenderly picked up her limp body and carried her to their room.
Delicately, he laid her down of the bed. From the bathroom, he retrieved a damp washcloth. As he sat down on the bed, he looked over Sarah’s still form. Blood coated her shoulder, face, and hands. Her features were almost unrecognizable underneath the layer of gore.
With patience and care, he set to work and removed what he could of the carnage. Her shirt was torn and bloodied. He could do nothing about the raw, open wound in her shoulder that ran deep enough to expose the bones underneath the skin and muscle. As one final touch, he rolled Sarah on her side and extended her arms out in front of her.
Satisfied that he had done what little he could, Wyatt returned to the hall. He bent down and scooped Ben up in his arms as he had done so many times in the past. For a moment, as Wyatt hugged the small body close, he allowed himself to pretend the boy was simply asleep and he was putting him to bed.
Wyatt reentered the bedroom and placed Ben in the circle that Sarah’s arms created. With the washcloth in hand once again, he lightly cleaned the blood from Ben.
When there was nothing more that he could do, he sat and stared at the peaceful scene he had created. A mother lovingly embracing her son. Forever.
Tears slipped down his cheeks again, a split second’s warning before the sobs took him over once again. Careful, so as not to disturb their peace, Wyatt lay down beside them and wrapped his arms around his family.
Eventually, he fell asleep. Only for a short time. When he awoke, as the haze of sleep still muddled his mind, he had reached out across the bed and expected to find Sarah burrowed deep in the blankets. It wasn’t until his fingers caressed her waxy skin that the memory of the last few days, the last few hours, flooded back.
The world that had been presented to him at the station seemed like a beautiful dream compared to the waking nightmare he was now facing.
In that moment, he was forced to face the reality of the future that now lay before him, and he wanted no part of it. He sat on the couch in the darkened room, lost in the thoughts that endlessly swirled through his head. Thoughts of what was, what could never be, and what was to come. His gun was clutched tightly in his hand.
For the past two days, the gun had left his hand for brief moments. He wanted it close by. Not for protection but in anticipation of the moment when his resolve to do what he desired most finally manifested. To join his family.
But the courage hadn’t come. Yet.
In the outside world, the world beyond the walls that he refused to leave, there were no signs that life was returning to normal. The other houses in the neighborhood remained ghostly quiet. No cars passed by. No one called to check on him.
Occasionally, he had peeked out the windows. For a while he even opened the blinds in the living room. But the idea that the world continued to turn while his own personal world crumbled was more than he could bear.
“Officer Ward.” The quiet, crackly voice broke through the silence of the house and startled him from his thoughts. Wyatt’s head whipped around as he looked for the source.
“Officer Ward, are you out there?”
The radio. He couldn’t remember when he had turned the thing on.
“Officer Ward, this is Olivia Bennett.” The name was familiar. He struggled through the haze of grief and exhaustion that clouded his mind.
The mother! The mother he had spoken to when they were trapped in the sally port. The mother who was struggling through the legions of deranged across the city to find a safe haven for her daughter.
A new form of grief gripped his heart as he grabbed for his duty belt. She had asked for his help, and though he could not give her physical support he had promised kind words to keep her spirits up. He had not kept his word.
“I haven’t heard from you since that first time we spoke, but I wanted to let you know”—the radio began to crackle and cut out—“Troy is overrun with ferals. I don’t think…”
Wyatt cursed as he uselessly shook the device. “We met up with some people…”
He wanted nothing more than to slam the infuriating device into the ground, but if he broke it he would never hear from her again.
“They’re gone now…It was just Elli and I again.” A soft sniffle, as if she were crying, punctuated her last word.
Wyatt was usually a patient man, but the radio was testing his limits. “The ferals are moving in these large roving gangs. We ran right into one…”
The transmission was getting more sporadic by the second. “We were caught.” His heart dropped, something he thought was no longer possible.
“I don’t want the same to happen to you.”
“Olivia! I’m here. Where are you?” Silence thickened the air, making it hard for him to breath.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to contact you again,” she continued, as though she hadn’t heard him. “My radio is about to die. I hope you’re out there. I hope you’re on your way.” Her words dissolved into static.
“Olivia!” He called out to her for a while, but the only thing that ever answered was static. She had sounded so tired, so hopeless. Panic swelled within him like a massive tidal wave.
He stood up and looked about the dark and empty room. Nervous energy coursed through him like an electric current.
She needed him. He had promised to support her and he had failed her. He had failed both of them.
What had happened to her? It had been three days since they had spoken. Through the static he had gained a few pieces of information. Troy is overrun with ferals. Her progress hadn’t been swift but she had made it to Troy. He still remembered the directions she had given him to get to the farm. She was close.
Ferals. She had to be talking about the deranged. Ferals was not an unfitting title for them. Wyatt wasn’t sure what they were, but as people they fell only to rise again with a voracious appetite.
We were caught. He remembered the desperation and fear that he had felt trapped in the sally port. How must she feel? The cries that must keep her awake. The hungry cries of her daughter. The cries of the deranged, the ferals, for their flesh.
She needed him.
He could save her.
Sudden frantic movement took hold of his body. He became a whirlwind of activity. If he was going out into the world, a world dominated by ferals, if he was going to save her, he needed to be prepared.
It hadn’t sounded like Olivia and Elli had much time left. Suddenly, Olivia’s wording struck him. It was just Elli and I again. Was. His stomach knotted at the implications. Was she alone now?
No.
They were both there. They were both waiting for him. They needed him.
The thoughts became a mantra as he tore through the house and gathered supplies. He shoved the things he needed into a backpack from the entryway closest: food, a few medical supplies, a couple knives from the kitchen. He donned his Kevlar vest and snapped his duty belt around his waist once again. The last thing he needed was a
spare change of clothes.
Wyatt pushed open the bedroom door and stopped in his tracks. All of the energy he had felt just seconds before drained from his body. The smell of decay filled his nose. Sarah and Ben lay together on the bed where he had left them. Their skin was no longer pale and had taken on a greenish hue. Their tender faces were now round and bloated.
In one swift motion, he stepped out of the room and slammed the door shut. His stomach jumped into his throat and he bent over to release the small amount of bile that rose through it. The serene scene he had created had been twisted into horror, so much like the rest of the world.
Wyatt heaved a few more times before he pushed himself upright again. The sudden reminder of all he had lost over the last few days had sapped every bit of strength from him.
This house held nothing for him anymore. Yet, he found himself clinging to it as he desperately tried to hold onto anything he had shared with the person he was five days ago.
The deranged had spread over many miles and cities. If he walked out the door, he might never be able to return. If he walked out the door, he would leave behind everything he and Sarah had worked for. If he walked out the door, he would leave behind Sarah and Ben.
How could he ever leave them? They were everything to him. How could he continue any form of life that did not include them? How could he have ever thought of leaving them?
Wyatt stumbled into the living room and dropped himself onto the couch. The weight of the future, both the future he faced and the future he would never have, crushed his soul.
He pulled his gun from its resting spot on his hip. His hands glided over the cold, dark metal. There weren’t many bullets left now, but he didn’t need many. He would just need one.
His heart fluttered at the thought. Fear and excitement. No one really knew if anything waited after death. But the thought that perhaps he might be reunited with those he loved most was enough to make him yearn for the embrace of a final rest.
I hope you’re on your way.
His grip tightened on the gun. Olivia needed help. If help from the government was coming, it should have been here by now. If he didn’t help her, who else would?
From across the room, Sarah’s smiling face looked down at him from a large sixteen-by-twenty framed photo. All three of them were holding each other in a joyous family photo. Tears slipped down his cheek as he stared back at the picture of that happy family. The family that loved each other. The family that needed each other. The family that had no idea how short their time together was. The family that had no idea of the horrible end that was coming.
That family was gone. His family was gone.
And someone else needed him. There was a family he could still spare the pain he suffered.
I hope you’re on your way.
Thank you for reading The Darkest Days!
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About the Author
R. L. Blalock’s love of reading started young, but her love of zombies started later in life. In 2008, when R. L. Blalock first watched the remake of Dawn of the Dead she instantly fell in love with the genre.
Born and raised in Sacramento, California, R. L. Blalock now lives in St. Louis, Missouri with her loving husband, precocious three-year-old daughter, two dogs, and a bird.
Stay connected with R. L. Blalock at rlblalock.com!