End of Days (Book 1)

by W. A Castle

  Jax had somehow known this small defining detail about the flesh eaters, and he tried to warn me. Now as I starred at the woman on our floor begging for us to kill her, I wish I had heeded his warning and never let momma open the door. I never wanted to know this about the flesh eaters.

  “Momma, she’s a flesh eater. Step back.” I gently pulled at mommas shoulders, keeping my voice deceivingly calm.

  “Eh? What are you talking about Maddie?” Momma shrugged my hands off and helped the woman to a sitting position. I could see the exact moment in momma’s eyes when she realized it for herself.

  “I killed my baby girls.” The bloodied woman wailed. Every time we asked her name it was like she couldn’t hear us or just chose to ignore us.

  “I feel it in here,” she pounded her fists against her head, “I remember everything I did. Please kill me. I’m in so much pain.” The woman reached for momma but momma reacted quickly, jumping to her feet and pushing the woman back.

  “Oh God, no! No no no.” The woman screamed in agony before falling to the floor and succumbing to what looked like a seizure. Her body jerked in short quick jerks before coming to a crouch in the span of seconds.

  Oh my God.

  The flesh eater was back. What kind of sick shit is this!

  “What. The. Fuck.” Momma screamed.

  The flesh eater snarled, showing off her bloody teeth. Was this really the woman that seconds before was begging us to kill her? I didn’t second guess my gut. That woman was gone, locked in the recesses of her living, walking, never ending nightmare. I dry heaved.

  The flesh eater dove at momma and without thinking I ran towards it, grabbed its shoulders and pushed it back towards the still open door. But as I released it, I realized it had curled its fingers around my arms, taking me down with it. It pushed up pinning me to the ground. Its face was inches from mine, its teeth snapping trying to get a chunk of my nose.

  My arms trembled with the exertion of trying it keep it at bay. It was shockingly stronger than it looked.

  “Fuck, Fuck!” I yelled. I could feel and smell its fucking horrid breath hitting my face. I gagged, trying desperately not to vomit all over myself. I shudder, thinking of what the woman said she had done to her girls. The flesh eater took that moment of distraction and lunged with renewed strength.

  “How are you this strong, bitch?” I roared, trying to roll us so I could be on top and take control.

  “Get off my daughter you freak!” I heard momma yelling and saw her lift her foot and make contact with the flesh eater’s skull. I took advantage and pushed it away with all my strength. I felt the chords of the muscles on my arms snap and sizzle at the exertion. Son of a bitch, I shook my arms trying to shake the shocks away. Before the flesh eater could stagger back up, I lifted my leg and pushed it back down. I ran up to it and brought my foot down on the back of its head. Over and over I brought my foot down on its skull until I heard it crack and felt the bone give away.

  Oh shit.

  I immediately stopped and fell on my knees exhausted, this time I couldn’t stop the vile from rising up my throat. I threw up right next to it, which only made me heave again.

  “I hope you found your peace.” I whisper to what used to be a woman and a mother. I limped back to where momma was standing. She wrapped her arms around me and cried into my hair.

  “I’m alright momma.” I whispered. Ushering her back into the house and locking the door behind us. I felt unnervingly calm for what had just happened.

  That had been too close of a fucking call. I shake my head and breathe in deeply. I walk back to the kitchen where I find the water I had put on the stove is rapidly boiling. With a sigh I turn it off and add in the pasta and cheese packet. I wipe the tears from my eyes angrily before they have a chance to pool and fall. Fuck this shit.

  Suddenly remembering Jax I pull out my phone. One missed call and four text messages from him. I ignore his missed call and focus on the messages, the first three are the directions to his bunker along with the codes to get in and his last one is him asking if I’m still alive. I sigh a chuckle and shake my head.

  I reply a ‘thanks for the address’ and a short ‘We’re alive and well enough’ message. I didn’t want to tell him what happened but he didn’t reply again anyway. But I knew he was coming for us. He said he was. I shake my head, trying not to think too much about the fact I’m putting the weight of momma’s and I’s safety on someone else’s shoulders.

  “Hey honey.” Momma’s voice made me jump and nearly knock the pan of pasta from the stove.

  “The hell, momma.” I scowled as I took the pot of pasta and served the mac and cheese on two plates. Momma lifted a thin eyebrow but couldn’t keep her face straight and broke out in a grin. I chuckled and handed her a plate.

  “Can you believe that shit?” Momma wipes sweat from her brow, “What does it mean? So they’re not, like, dead zombies?” Momma asked through a mouthful of cheesy pasta, her brows knitted together as she mulled over the series of events we’ve just gone through.

  “Fuck if I know. I think Jax was trying to warn me about that before the line went dead though.” I replied after taking a hearty bite of delicious food. Even my near death experience couldn’t put a damper on my taste buds… or appetite.

  “I just wish we knew what was really going on. If we kill those people out there, will we be thrown in jail for manslaughter…? I mean, will I be thrown in jail for killing that woman?” I frowned.

  “It was self-defense. I don’t know baby, but we just need to stay alive that’s all I know. We will worry about the rest when we get to that bridge.” Momma sighed. I rubbed the bridge of my nose trying to rub away the headache that was forming there. What the hell were we going to do? It could take Jax a few days if he was coming by car, weeks if he made the journey on foot. Was it this bad everywhere? Obviously it was bad in Wyoming too if Jax was going through the same thing we were here. How safe were the streets to travel?

  After our meal we settled back in the living room in our spot under the window. We were quiet, trying to listen to the noises outside. I don’t know what was worse, when we heard the growls or when we didn’t. I tried not to think too much on the hell that the people trapped in the bodies of the flesh eaters were going through. The thought was enough to make me sick to my stomach.

  We spent three days of doing the same, sitting around, keeping quiet, eating and trying not to go bat shit crazy. Luckily (or unluckily?) we hadn’t heard anymore screams of help or any more knocks on our windows.

  But on the fourth day we knew deep in our gut that government authorities weren’t coming for us, after radio silence for a week we had little hope there was any external help coming to help us, except for Jax. We had talked a few times since that night we learned the truth about the flesh eaters. He had taken a few days to prepare for the journey here. And he’d said traveling by car was near impossible on the highways, he was taking back roads where he could and feared he would have to travel by foot the rest of the way. I had told him that momma and I could meet him somewhere in the middle or could even go to him in Wyoming (It didn’t make sense for him to come all the way here only to turn right back around) but he was adamant that we stay indoors. My conscience ate at me after each passing day. He was going to kill himself trying to get to us. It would make more sense for him to stay put and for us to make our way there. But I think he knew it was a near impossible task for me. My agoraphobia barely let me take a few steps away from the front door without totally losing my mind. Goddamn it.

  Momma and I sat in front of the window that night, the lights off in the entire house so that we could look outside without being spotted by the flesh eaters. The cul-de-sac had fewer stragglers than a few days ago but the random growls still let us know that even if we couldn’t always see them, they were still there. Waiting to sink their teeth into anyone who thought they were brave enough to out run them. I remember the way they ran and pounced on their victims that night
on the 4th of July. I think they seemed slower now that they had no one to chase after. Everyone who had been fast enough had made it into their homes. The rest had been flesh eater chow.

  That’s when it dawned on me, the flesh eater eaters were just crazed people, fucked up in the head. They acted like something out of a horror movie, our minds have been altered by all the horror zombie shows and movies that have been produced by the media, all that exposure to that subject matter fucked up our minds into seeing these people as if they were the walking dead. But they weren’t dead, not really. I don’t think.

  What the hell sort of sickness would cause this reaction in the infected? I wish we could get answers. But unfortunately there was no one with answers to our questions or anyone here to ease our minds.

  A movement across the street caught my eye and brought me out of my thoughts. I looked up at the same time that momma leaned into the glass frame. All the neighbors who had made it into their homes during the attack had developed a system of keeping track of each other. I think it was more for our mental health than for any other benefit. Each night all of us would stand by our windows at a given time and let our presence known. There was no other way to communicate with each other, well for those who didn’t have each other’s telephone numbers. But I do admit seeing their faces pressed to their windows every night did ease something turbulent in my mind. We weren’t totally alone in this. There were still others.

  But right now Janet Salas, the woman from across the street was waving her arms and banging on her window to get our attention. Usually she and Marcos stood in front of their window and waved baby Diego around. Seeing that little guy’s chubby face was the fucking highlight of my day. It reminded me that there was still innocence here. Tonight it was only Janet at the window and she looked terrified. Catching her expression I sat up, my spine ramrod straight and my heart jackhammering. Janet was saying (or most likely yelling) something and waving her hands frantically but we were too far away to be able to hear her words. I looked at the other windows in the other houses but most had their curtains drawn back again, others could see us and therefore wore worried faces and exchanged worried glances.

  When Janet realized that no one could hear her she connected her eyes to mine. Her eyes pleaded and her mouth moved. She waved her hands signaling that she needed me to go over to her house. I frowned in response. Go outside? I started to shake my head but I stopped mid tilt and looked over at momma. Her eyebrows were furrowed, indecision in her eyes as well.

  As I turned to look back at Janet she started to visibly shake and her hands slapped against the window pane. I could make out red smudges on the windows were her hands her banging the glass. What the fuck?

  “We need to see what is happening.” Momma said without a question in her voice now. I turned to her wide eyed.

  “We can NOT go out there. We don’t know what’s happened, it’s too dangerous.” I gritted out. Annoyed beyond fuck that momma was considering going across the street.

  “Stay here Mads, I’ll be right back hun.” Momma made to move but I grabbed her arm and held her in place.

  “They have a baby, Maddie, they could be hurt.” Momma sighed frustrated. I felt frustrated too, mostly at myself. If I was hurt, wouldn’t I want someone to come to my aid? Hell.

  I breathed in deeply and exhaled loudly, “We go together.”

  Momma opened her mouth to protest but I cut her off.

  “We need to watch each other’s backs.” I stated with more force than I knew I had in me. I turned back to Janet and caught her eyes. I slowly nodded and with hand charades I let her know that we were coming. I just hope she understood, I never was good at charades or hand puppets.

  I got up and ignored that my legs felt like they were weighed down by led. The terror of leaving the house was damn near paralyzing. Literally. I took in a shuddery breath and walked to the front door. I pulled the laughably small delicate table I had pushed in front of the door and I twisted the lock and grabbed the doorknob tightly.

  I looked over my shoulder and lifted my brows at momma in a silent question: Are you ready?

  Mommas’ eyes widened and she whispered, “Hold on.” Moments later she came back with a butcher cleaver and a smaller butcher knife. Damn it, I need to get my head screwed on straight, I didn’t even think of grabbing a weapon. Fuck me .

  I nodded at momma in silent thanks and reached for the smaller butcher knife. I gripped the handle tightly in my shaking hand and slowly opened the wooden front door.

  If my ears were mobile they would be flicking like a deer’s’. I strained to hear any movement outside before opening it enough to stick my head out. I scanned my eyes around the cul-de-sac. There were a few stragglers in-between some houses but none that I would consider an immediate danger. I slowly moved my body past the door. I could feel my heart beat shaking my body from the inside out. My ears felt like they needed popping. My eyes moved to one of the stragglers, were they fast or were they clumsy and slow? I felt momma move besides me. I closed the door and slowly and as quietly as possible made my way down the steps of the porch. The wood steps were old and creaked as they took on our weight. My eyes constantly shifted to the stragglers to make sure we hadn’t caught their attention. My anxiety was so high my vision was beginning to blur, that brought on panic and the earth started to sway under my feet.

  Fuck fuck fuck, get it together bitch. I swore at myself and tried to take deep breaths in through a nose that felt completely clogged. I knew I could breathe; my anxiety was just messing with my brain making me think I couldn’t take a proper breath. I felt a hand land on my shoulder and I barely managed to throw my arm around and swallow back a shriek. Momma tried to smother a grin and raised her hands in surrender. She motioned me to breathe deep and slow. Yeah I got it. I managed to get my eye rolling in control and we stealthily crossed the street. I indulged a look towards Janet’s living room window but no one was there.

  There was a loud crash to my left; I whip around gripping my knife ready to strike.

  “Sorry!” Momma whispers yells, picking herself up from the ground where she had tripped over a set of detonated sparkler cans. But it was too late; she had attracted unwanted attention to us. I heard the flesh eaters’ growl but I was confused as I turned around in a circle and couldn’t see any of the growlers. Growlers, flesh eaters, stragglers, I kept changing their names in my head because I sure as monkey balls had no idea to call them. So I called them those names interchangeably depending on what they were fucking doing.

  “Run!” I threw care to the wind and yelled out. The fuckers had heard us already there was no use in trying to be discreet anymore. Momma scrambled off the ground and we turned tail towards Janet’s house. I was in the process of yelling at Janet to open her front door when I suddenly find myself flying off the ground and being thrown a few feet away, I land on my side with a hard thud and Iyell out in pain. I feel like a linebacker just tackled me at full fucking speed. (Not that I’ve ever been tackled by a linebacker before but I imagine that is what it would feel like.) The. Fuck!

  I barely had enough time to sit up when a flesh eater was on top of me tangling its bloody hands in my hair. The fucker tackled me! It came out of nowhere and I never heard it coming. Its strength was more than a little alarming. Starring at the flesh eater face to face I realize that I recognized who this was. Horror upped the adrenaline running through my veins (Destroying my fragile nerves mind you) allowing me to push back hard enough to free my hand from between our bodies. I raised my hand with the butcher knife and hacked at the kid’s arm. He must have been about 18, I usually saw him riding his bike around the neighborhood with his friends. I didn’t know his name but I knew his face, what was left of his face. Right now though, I wanted nothing more than to kill him to get him off me but I didn’t aim for his head, remembering that he was still in there…somewhere.

  His fingers dug into my scalp and I could feel strands of my hair being ripped out.

&nbs
p; “Fuck!” I growl, I can feel my arms shaking so bad I’m afraid he will be able to take a chunk out of my goddamned face. I hear a roar and I can see momma running towards us with the butcher cleaver high above her head. I look away not wanting to see what is about to happen, I catch someone’s eyes from a window a few houses down. It was a small blonde girl looking through the blinds, a second pair of eyes appeared and then the curtains go down. They obviously weren’t going to help.

  A moment later the deafening growling next to my ear stopped and a wet, sticky (and horrible smelling) face came crushing down on my neck. I dry heave and push the body the fuck away from me with a disgusted grunt. Momma leans down and retrieves the cleaver she encrusted into the kid’s… flesh eater’s… head. Without wasting another second we run towards Janet’s now open front door. I turn in time to see other flesh eaters coming running out of their hiding spots towards us. These however were noticeably slower and much, much noisier. I stored that nugget of information away in the memory banks to be analyzed at a later time.

  As soon as momma and I cross the threshold Janet closes the door hurriedly. The hair on the back of my neck stands up and I can sense something is wrong. The air feels… odd… somehow. I frown as I turn to look at Janet. She is shaking hard and she is covered in sweat. The twitch of her neck doesn’t go unnoticed either.

  “What’s wrong, hun?” Momma pants as she struggles to catch her breath.

  “I need you to take Diego.” Janet pants, her chest heaving rapidly. I didn’t know Janet personally but she was always friendly enough when she walked past my house, always a friendly ‘good day’ and a friendly wave. When Diego was born Momma had already moved in with me and momma had quickly made friends with Janet and Marcos chatting them up when they took their daily stroll with baby Diego around the block. That was my mother. She could make friends with just about anyone. Not me, but I had seen Diego time and time again enough to be familiar with him, but why would she -