His Name Was Zach

by Peter Martuneac

  Chapter Two

  The next morning bore witness to a magnificent sunrise that splattered the cloudless blue sky with broad brush strokes of pink and orange. The green summer grass sparkled brilliantly in the advancing rays of sunlight, thanks to their coats of morning dew. A light breeze wound its invisible fingers through the branches of the trees, causing the leaves to dance to and fro amongst each other.

  A leaf that had fallen from its parent tree was now scooped up by the breeze and was carried along just above the ground. It twirled in loops here, floated along lazily like a branch in a stream there. It soon reached its journey’s end however when it came into contact with the face of a man who sat cross-legged on the grass.

  Zach picked the leaf up off the ground and held it between his thumb and forefinger, twirling it this way and that. He stared at if for a few moments as if it was an alien object to him, then tossed it aside and returned his gaze to the sky. It was a beautiful morning sky, worthy of being painted, and Zach wished that it had come on a different day so that he could more fully enjoy it. But it was the morning of July 6th, and so the sole focus of his thoughts rested on his long-dead wife. Six years ago today, he married the most beautiful, wonderful woman in the world. Four years ago today, he killed that woman, a guilt he had been dragging around ever since.

  Never in his darkest nightmares had he thought that their marriage would end so quickly and so cruelly. Their love had been true and pure, how could such a thing have happened to them? Wasn’t this one of those things that always happened to ‘somebody else’? He thought about all the happy memories he had shared with his wife, and his thoughts drifted back to the first time he had ever beheld that gorgeous woman…

  Sergeant Davidson woke up in a hospital, laying on a bed. He sat up and looked around at his surroundings, unsure of how he had arrived there. His last memory that he could call up into his mind was of the 81mm mortars exploding in the market. How had he gotten out of there alive? Where was the rest of his squad?

  He looked down at himself. Except for the bullet wound in his left shoulder, not far above his heart, he was unhurt. He was not attached to any machines, so that was a good sign. He could feel and move all of his limbs, and that was an even better sign.

  “Oh, you’re awake!” said a cheerful sounding voice. Davidson looked up and saw a woman standing beside him. She wore a white doctor’s coat over a plain grey shirt, but also wore camouflage trousers and boots. Davidson recognized that particular pattern, and knew that she was in the Air Force. Her eyes were dark brown, just like her hair, which was tied up in a neat bun. Davidson now saw the tiny silver bar on her coat collar, marking her as a lieutenant. “We thought you’d still be asleep for another hour or so. You pretty much just got out of surgery.”

  “Surgery?” he asked.

  “Yes. You were shot in the shoulder, sergeant. But the round didn’t leave your body. It was pretty tough getting all the fragments out of you, but you’re a tough guy. You should have full use of your arm back within a month,” she said with a smile.

  “No. No, that won’t do,” Davidson said as he pushed himself up, but he winced in pain when he put pressure on his left arm. “I have to get back to my squad, they need me.”

  A pained expression clouded the lieutenant’s face, and Davidson said, “What?”

  “I don’t know how much you remember, sergeant,” she said slowly, “but your squad barely made it out of that market alive. You lost…six Marines. Everyone else, including you, was severely wounded by the time the CASEVAC birds got you out of there.”

  “Lance Corporal Ferrier…is he…”

  “I’m sorry. He died of his wounds.”

  Davidson said nothing for a long time as he let this hammer strike his heart. That idiot Ferrier! Why did he do that?! That grenade wasn’t meant for him! Who was he to make a trade with Death like that?! He closed his eyes in an effort to keep from crying. That market had been a real shit-storm, and for what? His battalion was going to leave that area soon anyway, which meant that the Taliban would just move back in. They would spread the word about how they’d driven the infidels out, an absurd claim, considering that Davidson and his Marines had broken their collective boot off in the Taliban’s collective ass on a nearly daily basis. But it didn’t matter how many battles they won, because it looked like they’d lose the war.

  What then had Ferrier died for? What had the others died for? What had any American slain in this war really died for? Peace? There would never be peace in that place so long as the Taliban existed. And as they were united by an ancient faith and not a flag, they would always exist. Short of genocide on an unprecedented scale, nothing could push them into non-existence. This was a war of attrition, and victory would go to the side that fought longest. America was fast running out of time because Americans were sick of what they thought was a useless war. It had irked Davidson to see it referred to as ‘the forgotten war’. How could something that people had suffered, sacrificed, and died for be so carelessly titled? Meanwhile, the Taliban were fighting for their god, and so they would fight forever, which meant that they literally had all the time in the world.

  He turned back to the pretty lieutenant, and saw that she was watching him with what he judged to be sincere empathy. A lone tear finally escaped his eyes, and she laid a gentle hand on his rough forearm. Her compassionate touch affected Davidson, like the touch of an angel might. “I’m so sorry, sergeant,” she said.

  Davidson wiped the tear away, looked back into her eyes and said, “My name’s Zach, by the way. You can call me Zach.”

  She smiled and said, “I’m happy to meet you Zach. My name is…”

  Zach sighed, as he tried to shrug off this cloak of sorrowful reminiscence. He had Abby, and he needed to be strong for her. He knew she was scared, having to leave their home so suddenly, so it wouldn’t do to let her see her guardian brooding over his past. He looked down at his daughter, still curled up on the ground, sleeping soundly. He wondered if she was dreaming right now, and if she had pleasant dreams. He hoped so. He hated to disturb her, but it was high time to be on the move again.

  “Abby. Wake up, baby girl,” Zach said quietly as he gently shook her bare foot. Her eyes opened slightly and she blinked a few times before sitting up and yawning. “Morning, Bug,” he said, and she responded with something that sounded like ‘morning Zach’. She rubbed her eyes and stretched her arms, then pulled a scrunchy out of her pocket and put her hair into a ponytail. Zach retrieved a can of baked beans from his ruck and a small can of Spam for them to share for breakfast as Abby pulled her pink socks over her feet, followed by her travel-worn boots.

  “Sleep well?” asked Zach as he used his Gerber multi-tool to open up the can of Spam.

  “Mhmm,” Abby responded. “No dreams though. I like it when I have dreams.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Zach responded as he turned his attention from the now open can of Spam to the can of beans. Abby was about to ask if Zach had any dreams but decided against it when she remembered what day it was. She never brought up the subject of his wife if she didn’t have to. They ate quickly and again without conversation. Once finished, they hauled their packs on their shoulders and set off walking.

  After a few minutes, Abby asked, “So where are we gonna go, Zach?”

  “West, to the Mississippi River,” Zach answered.

  “What’s there?”

  “Well, fresh water for one, and a good terrain feature to follow, as well. So once we get there, we’ll stick nearby and follow it south.”

  “What’s south?”

  “The opposite of north.”

  Abby punched him in the arm playfully and said, “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I know. Civilization is what we’re looking for down south. There’s got to be segments of society still around besides nomads and gangs. I figure at some point we’ll run across a settlement or something by the river, and we’ll finally have a safe place to stay.”

&n
bsp; “How come we never looked for a town before?”

  “Honestly, I was hoping to wait out this whole thing. I didn’t think it would last too long before order was restored. I guess we just got comfortable where we were. But the cabin is gone now, and it’s been two years so who knows when things will return to normal?”

  “Makes sense,” Abby said, nodding her head. “I’m sure we’ll find something!”

  Zach desperately hoped that this was true so that he could give Abby the normal life that she deserved. Scavenging abandoned cities and living on the road was no life for a young girl. She needed security, friends, and a family. She needed to be able to live without looking over her shoulder every minute. Zach wanted to be the best father to Abby that he could possibly be, and even though she constantly assured him that he was a great dad, he thought he could do better.

  They kept their western course for four days, moving at a reasonable pace, but they still did not encounter anyone, nor did they find any sign of civilization. And to make the situation worse, they were running low on food, as well. They found water here and there, so their Camelbaks, which could hold three liters of water and had purifying attachments, were never empty. But even with careful rationing, their food supply was running low. Zach could handle the lack of food well enough, but Abby was still just a kid and she needed appropriate nutrition. She was already a naturally thin, tiny girl, and Zach was worried that she could become ill.

  But despite their precarious situation, they kept themselves in good spirits. Zach would talk to Abby about the different sports he used to watch and she would listen politely and ask questions about them. Abby in turn would talk about some of her favorite dancers and she would also show off her deadeye marksmanship with her slingshot. Sometimes they would play games as they walked. Right now they were playing a game where they went through the alphabet, taking turns naming bands that began with whatever letter they were on.

  “All-American Rejects,” Abby said, getting the game started.

  “Breaking Benjamin,” Zach replied quickly.

  “Coheed and Cambria.”

  “Uhh, Disturbed.”

  “Eminem.”

  “That’s not a band, that’s a name!” Zach insisted.

  “Nuh-uh! It totally counts because it’s a stage name and not a proper name!” Abby retorted.

  “Oh, very well. Fort Minor.”

  “Gin Blossoms.”

  “Hinder.”

  “Incubus,” said Abby. Zach didn’t respond immediately, as he tried to think of a band that began with the letter ‘j’. They were entering a wooded area now and Zach stepped over a fallen tree as he thought; Abby walked around it.

  “Are you stuck?” she asked.

  “No, I got this,” Zach replied. He had a name on the tip of his tongue but couldn’t exactly recall what it was. He almost had it, but suddenly his foot caught on something and he fell down, dropping his rifle. He tried to get back up but was pulled down again. He looked down and saw that a legless zombie was clutching his ankle, trying to pull his foot into its mouth! It was concealed by a large bush, but was pulling itself toward Zach, snapping its jaw. Zach twisted his body so that he could unsheathe his KA-BAR, which had a big, ten-inch long, Bowie-style blade.

  But before he could pull it free, Abby fired her gun at the zombie, blowing its decomposing head to pieces, and it instantly released Zach’s leg. Zach looked to his left and saw Abby standing with her pistol in both hands, breathing heavily. “Thanks Bug,” Zach said as he stood up and retrieved his rifle. “But next time,” he added in a softer tone, “use your knife. We can’t waste ammo or make too much noise.”

  “I can’t do that, Dad!” Abby protested, still trembling. Zach had noticed that she would call him ‘Dad’ whenever she was under a lot of stress, or was very scared. She hated the idea of getting that close to a zombie, and killing anything with a knife was beyond repulsive to Abby.

  “Yes, you can. One day, you’re gonna have to.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes way, and better for you to just get over your fear sooner rather than later. Now, let’s keep going.”

  Later in the afternoon, at about 4 o’clock, Abby found herself getting very hungry. In order to conserve their food, they ate only in the morning and at night. So during most of the day, Abby would feel half-starved (though she was reasonably certain that Zach was giving her more than her fair share of their food, something that she didn’t approve of at all). The summer heat, the rationed food, and the incessant walking were bothering her. She wished those men hadn’t destroyed their home! Life with Zach in that cabin had been far from perfect, but it was much better than life on the road, where she was never safe and always hungry. And as if to remind her of how hungry she was, Abby’s stomach growled loudly.

  Zach heard this, looked down at Abby, and smirked. She stuck her tongue out at him in reply. Truth be told, Zach was famishing too. Without Abby knowing (so he thought), he’d been giving her more than half of the food whenever they stopped to eat, but it still wasn’t nearly enough.

  But that changed just a few minutes later. After walking through some wide, flat fields, the ground began to rise up steadily into a low hill, and Zach and Abby saw in the distance a small farm. Crops littered the ground in front of them, running north to south. Corn here, potatoes there, and other fine vegetables were clearly being tended to. Running all around this property was a cattle fence with barbed wire strewn around and on top of it. A beautiful white farmhouse sat just in front of the crops beyond, and a big, pale red barn with a brown roof was beside the house. A smaller rectangular building sat next to the dirt road that ran from the front porch of the house to the edge of the property, where it joined with a bigger road running east and west.

  “Do you think anyone lives there?” Abby asked.

  “Probably, judging by the crops,” Zach answered, surveying the area carefully.

  “I bet they’ve got a lot of food,” Abby said, trying to drop a hint as she looked up at Zach.

  “I bet they do,” Zach said, still looking around suspiciously.

  “Let’s go down there and see if we can get some food,” Abby said.

  “Hold up, Bug. We don’t know what these people are like.”

  “It’s probably just a family, not marauders. This place looks harmless!”

  “I’ve seen a lot of bad places that looked harmless.”

  “Oh come on, Zach! I’m really hungry and those people probably have tons of food!”

  “It could be dangerous, Abby. I’ve just got a bad feeling about this place.”

  “Everything could be dangerous! Moving on with no food could be dangerous, too! Please Dad, can we just go ask?” Abby asked, looking up at Zach and giving him her best puppy-dog eyes. Zach was the decision maker for the two of them, but in the end he was powerless under Abby’s gaze. She knew this, and she had never tried to take advantage of this hold she had on his heart, but right now she was tired, hungry, and tired of being tired and hungry. So she fixed her beautiful silver eyes on Zach, looking as sad and pitiful as she could.

  Zack looked down at her and sighed. She was really hungry, and he just wanted to provide for her, and being unable to hurt him deeply. Finally relenting, he said, “Okay, let’s go take a look.” Abby smiled and then led the way towards the dirt road. Zach followed her, shifting his gun into his left hand and holding it by the magazine well. He didn’t want to give a threatening presence to whoever lived inside, for fear that they might decide to take a preemptive shot at these two strangers.

  The house was indeed beautiful, in the old-fashioned way. It was made up of red brick and wood painted white. A chimney rose out of the corner of the black roof, but no smoke drifted out of it. Several old style square windows adorned both the first and second story of the house, and on the side facing Zach and Abby was a large porch with two benches sitting on it. It looked like a very fine house, indeed. There was one very modern rendition, however: the roof
was covered with solar panels.

  In front of the smaller, rundown looking building beside the house was an old truck that at one time must have been a brilliant shade of green, but rust and long exposure to the sun had taken their toll on the vehicle. Zach assumed that that small building was either a garage or some kind of storage shed. And next to that was a small outhouse. The smell of farm animals was now noticeable, and it seemed to come from the barn out back.

  As they got closer, Zach intently scanned the windows but could see nothing. Still, he had a strange sensation that they were being watched. He chalked it up to paranoia, but remained vigilant. They drew near to the fence now, and came up to the gate that blocked the dirt road running into the property. Zach was about to try calling out to the house, but the front door was suddenly pulled open and the screen door, which could be heard creaking even from a far distance, swung open on its ungreased hinges. A man holding some kind of long gun appeared in the doorway and shouted, “Hold it right there!” Zach and Abby halted. “What do you want?” the man called.

  “I was hoping to get some food for me and my daughter!” said Zach. He hoped that having a young girl with him would help dissuade any fears of him being a bad guy.

  “One minute! Just stay right there, ya hear?” the man said as he stepped out onto the porch and was followed by two other men.

  As they got closer to the fence, Zach and Abby could see that the man who had shouted to them was old looking, probably in his sixties. He wore blue jeans, a sleeveless flannel shirt over a plain white t-shirt, and a trucker hat. He was a pretty big looking guy, but the younger man to his left towered over him. That man must have been almost seven feet tall, probably weighed in the neighborhood of three hundred pounds, judging by his noticeable beer gut. The man on the other side of the old-timer was the smallest of the three, and there was something in his bright blue eyes that Zach did not like.

  All three men carried bolt-action rifles with them, and they were pointing their guns right at Zach and Abby. This made Zach nervous. If they were bad folks, they could gun down Abby and him before he even had a chance to fight back. “Hey, y’all know it’s rude to point guns at people who aren’t pointing guns at you, right?” Zach called. The three men stopped walking momentarily, exchanged glances, and then lowered their rifles.