Death & Decay (Book 2): Divided

by R. L. Blalock

  He rolled his eyes. That stutter was grating on whatever patience he had left. He pulled a pistol out of his waistband. The man’s eyes grew wide, but before the man could react, he pulled the trigger. The man’s head snapped back, blood and brain spraying out of the back of his head.

  All around them, dozens of people flinched. All eyes turned towards him as the others ceased what they were doing.

  Samuel ran his finger over the long wound that traced his right cheekbone. The wound was long and narrow, starting just to the right of his nose and traveling all the way to his temple. The skin around it had sunken in and become puckered as it began to heal. The stitches were sloppy. Some were too close, others too tight. It wouldn’t heal pretty. Samuel growled as his fingers explored the bumps and ridges that were now his face.

  “This is no world for the weak.” Samuel’s voice rang out through the silence. “We have struggled to survive in this new world. And why?” He looked at those around him. “Because we have tolerated the weak. Well, we will do that no more! We were attacked. By the dead. By the Sovereigns. By our own. We were killed. Why? Because we were weak! This new world is not meant for the weak, and weakness will no longer be tolerated. We will purge the earth of the weak. We will take it back from the freaks and rise up stronger than ever.”

  “You can’t just kill people,” a woman called out angrily.

  Without hesitation, Samuel leveled his gun at the woman and pulled the trigger. The woman jerked backwards and collapsed onto the ground, a red stain growing across her chest.

  “That was not a suggestion. Does anyone else object?” Samuel’s eyes roved across the crowd, but no one else spoke up. He could hear the woman’s wet coughing as she struggled to breath around the hole in her chest.

  He touched the wound on his cheek again. It was a constant reminder. A reminder of how weak he had been. How blind he had been to the biggest threat. It would never allow him to forget his weakness. He would never allow that weakness to return.

  He had thought he could create something better by helping others. But he had been wrong. The only thing that mattered in this new world was fear. And he would be feared.

  Defenseless:

  A Story of Death & Decay

  Day 1

  3:29 pm

  “Daddy!” Dylan launched himself out of the car door like a rocket. His red-and-blue shoes lit up as they hit the ground. In the last few steps, he leapt up and threw his arms around his father.

  “Hey, buddy!” His father wrapped his arms around Dylan, returning the enthusiastic hug.

  “I missed you,” Dylan said, pouting as his father picked him up.

  Brushing stray lock of dirty-blond hair out of the six-year-old’s eyes, his father said, “Well, I missed you too. Have you been good for your mom?”

  “Uh-huh.” Dylan nodded.

  “That’s my big boy.” His father beamed down at Dylan. Creases formed in the corners of his father’s eyes and mouth, his smile rippling across his face. The two looked a lot alike. They both had the same gray-green eyes and the same dirty-blond hair. His father gave him a final strong, loving squeeze before setting him down. “Now go inside and put your stuff away. Maybe we can see if Ben can come out and play.”

  Dylan ran back to where his mother stood by the driver’s side of her little black car. Her short black hair clung to the edges of the face. Her lips turned up slightly into a thin smile. Her hazel eyes shimmered in the sunlight, and she swiped at them quickly. She crouched down in front of Dylan and held out his Spiderman backpack. Most of the things he needed were already here. He had two of everything: two beds, two rooms, two sets of clothes. But there were a few things that he didn’t have two of. Like his blanket. The same one he had slept with since he was a baby.

  “Now you be good for your dad, alright?” His mother pulled him into a tight hug, her embrace tight and reassuring but not crushing like his father’s.

  “I’ll miss you.” Dylan kissed her cheek.

  “I’ll miss you too, honey.” She pressed her lips to his forehead. “I’ll talk to you tonight before you go to bed.”

  “I love you.” He nuzzled against her shoulder.

  “I love you too, sweetheart.” His mother held him until he released her.

  “Go put your stuff down inside,” his dad said. Dylan ran to the door, dropping his bag in the entryway.

  “Be careful going out with him,” he heard his mom say quietly to his dad. “Things haven’t calmed down yet.”

  “I know,” his dad said, nodding. “I don’t have any plans to go anywhere this week. We’ll be fine, Rebecca.” His mom nodded. “I’ll have him call you tonight before bed.”

  “Thank you.” His mom opened the car door before turning to Dylan. “Bye, baby. I love you.” She waved and blew him a kiss.

  “Why can’t Mom stay here?” Dylan waved to his mom as she pulled out of the driveway and drove off. He wished his parents lived together. He wished he could live with them both at the same time. He still didn’t understand why they didn’t live in the same house.

  His father’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he was finally able to say something. “Adults don’t always get along, buddy. Just like you don’t always get along with all of your classmates.”

  Dylan nodded. He had asked the question before and usually got the same kind of response.

  “Come on.” His dad tugged on his hand. “I bet Ben will want to come play. He was asking about you yesterday.”

  Dylan’s face lit up. He liked Ben. Ben was only three-years-old, but he liked to follow Dylan around and Dylan liked teaching him new things.

  Dylan bounced up the steps to the house and knocked on the door. A woman with a broad, friendly smile opened the door, her sable eyes lighting up. Her thick, chocolate-brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail that bobbed back as forth as she moved. She was a petite woman with a wispy frame.

  “Hi, Dylan!”

  “Hi, Mrs. Ward! Can Ben come play?”

  “Sure! Just let me get some shoes on him and we’ll be right out.” Mrs. Ward looked past Dylan and waved to his father. “Hi, Robert!”

  Dylan’s dad waved back. “How’s it going, Sarah?”

  Mrs. Ward shrugged. “Wyatt is at work. Just Ben and I today.”

  “He’s working around here, though, right? They haven’t called him in to go deal with riots yet, have they?”

  “No.” Sarah knelt down next to Ben and slipped on his shoes. “His time will come, though, if things keep going this way.” She smiled down at Ben and kissed him on the forehead. “Go play!” She gently swatted him as he darted past her.

  Ben was a bundle of energy. In the last few months, his baby fat had begun to melt away. He looked more like a kid than a baby now. His feathery blond hair was always a mess, sticking out from his head at odd angles. He had the deep brown eyes of his mother. They were always bright and intent, watching and absorbing everything around him.

  “Let’s go explore!” Dylan said to Ben.

  “Don’t go too far!” his dad shouted after him. “Stay is the yards.”

  Dylan rolled his eyes but ran between the houses towards the open backyards. None of the houses had fences around their yards. This left all the yards connected in one continuous stretch of green. Behind the yards was a copse of trees. Dylan liked to pretend it was a vast, untamed forest. That he was an explorer setting foot in an untouched jungle full of wild animals.

  He and Ben ducked through the branches of the shrubs, weaving around tree trunks. A flash of movement caught his eye and Dylan jump back, bumping into Ben. The small boy cried out as his he stumbled. The movement came again and Dylan’s eyes narrowed as he focused on it.

  “Ben!” He grabbed the other boy’s hand in excitement, dragging him towards it. “Look at this!” He knelt down in the dirt, small twigs and rocks biting into his knees.

  “What is it?” Ben asked, standing back a few feet to inspect the creature.

  “
A toad!”

  The tiny animal leapt again and Dylan crawled after it. It wasn’t big, only about the size of his palm. The toad was covered in brown bumpy skin that helped it blend in with the dead leaves on the ground.

  Dylan reached out tentatively and lightly stroked the creature’s skin. It was soft and dry, not slimy, as he had expected. The toad leapt again at his touch. Dylan jumped, a nervous laugh escaping his lips as excitement coursed through his veins.

  He scurried after the toad, clamping his hands down over the creature. He could feel it frantically squirming underneath his fingers. He didn’t want to hurt it. He just wanted Ben to be able to feel it too.

  Carefully, Dylan scooped the toad up in his hands, cupping them together. Slowly, he closed his hands until he had a firm grip on the toad. One by one, he peeled back his fingers until he could see the little creature staring up at him.

  “Ben, come see!” Dylan held his hands up to Ben. The younger boy inched forward. “Want to touch it?”

  Ben reached forward cautiously. As his fingers brushed against the toad, it began to struggle again and he sprung backwards.

  “Feels cool, doesn’t it?”

  Ben’s eyes darted between Dylan and the toad as he nibbled on his lip. Finally, the little boy nodded.

  “Come on! Let’s go show my dad!” Dylan stood up shakily, his attention focused on the toad staring back warily at him.

  Dylan shouldered through the leaves, clutching the toad close to his chest as the branches scratched his arms and legs. As they broke out of the trees, Dylan blinked in the bright sunlight and looked around. They had wandered a few houses down but not far from his house.

  “Do you like frogs?” Dylan asked as they started back towards the house.

  “Yeah.” Ben nodded, though he still eyed Dylan’s hands warily.

  “I’ve never been able to catch one. Toads are slower, though.” Dylan continued chattering to his younger friend. “You know there is a difference between frogs and—”

  Thuds sounded behind them, and Dylan froze. Ben turned around first. Not wanting to look like a coward compared to a three-year-old, Dylan slowly turned around. A woman lay face down at the bottom of her back steps. The storm door swung shut again, smacking hard against the frame.

  The woman stirred, slowly trying to pull herself to her feet. Dylan thought she must have been hurt, but she didn’t cry. Dylan wanted to call out for his dad to come help her, but he couldn’t find his voice.

  As the woman rose, he could see that her face and shirt were stained red. Her head hung awkwardly to one side. Her face was covered in scratch marks, and her shirt was torn at the shoulder. She looked like a monster.

  Ben let out a whimper and Dylan’s breath caught in his chest at the sound.

  The woman’s head whipped around, her eyes locking on the two children. A shriek ripped from her throat, and suddenly she was sprinting towards them.

  Dylan dropped the toad and ran. His arms and legs felt jerky and uncoordinated as he forced them to move.

  He could hear Ben’s terrified cries behind him. Dylan chanced a look over his shoulder. Ben was a dozen feet behind him, tears streaming down his face as his short legs struggled to catch up to Dylan.

  “Dad!” Dylan shrieked, his voice high and frightened. “Dad!”

  Dylan looked back again. The monster reached out, her hands inches from Ben’s shirt.

  Someone grabbed ahold of Dylan’s arm and Dylan screamed again, trying to claw at whoever had grabbed him.

  “Dylan, what’s wrong?” His father’s eyes were wide and wild.

  “Ben!” Mrs. Ward’s shriek cut through the air.

  “Stay right here! Don’t move!” Dylan’s father raced after Sarah, towards Ben and the woman.

  Ben was on the ground. The monstrous woman was on top of him. But Ben wasn’t crying anymore.

  Why isn’t Ben crying? Dylan was shaking. He could feel the tears running down his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around himself.

  His dad grabbed the monster by her ankle, dragging her away from Ben. Mrs. Ward collapsed next to Ben, scooping his limp body up in her arms. Dylan finally got a look at his friend. There was blood everywhere. It covered his face, soaked through his shirt, and matted his hair.

  The woman twisted and lunged for Dylan’s father, her teeth snapping in his face as he struggled to push her away.

  “Dad!” Dylan took a few steps forward.

  “Stop! Stay back!” His father’s grip slipped. The monster leapt forward, her teeth sinking into his bicep. He roared as blood bubbled up around her lips. Dad pushed the monster back, her teeth peeling back the meat from his arm like string cheese as she held on tight.

  When she finally ripped free, a chunk of flesh held tight in her mouth, the monster tripped over her own feet. She didn’t even try to catch herself as she toppled, her head cracking hard against the corner of the concrete patio. In an instant, his dad was on her. He seized her head in his hands, lifting it up and slamming it back down on the concrete. The monster snarled and hissed, her fingers scraping down his arms and face as she tried to pull him closer to her mouth.

  Finally, as he slammed her head down on the concrete again, a sickening crunch reverberated through her skull and the woman went limp.

  Dylan saw his dad stand up. He looked around wildly before his eyes looked in on Dylan. He sprinted towards the boy and for a horrifying moment Dylan wanted to run. His father looked so much like the woman. Scratched up. Covered in blood. His eyes vacant, like the eyes of his teddy bear.

  But it was his father? Wasn’t it?

  “Dylan.” His father breathed as he scooped his son up. “Are you hurt?” His eyes frantically searched over the boy for wounds.

  Dylan shook his head.

  “He won’t stop bleeding.” Mrs. Ward’s frantic words broke through the silence. Her hand was clamped over Ben’s neck, blood oozing around her fingers. She looked up at them, tears filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks.

  Dad released Dylan, though Dylan wrapped his arms around the man’s waist, holding on tightly. His dad pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched three numbers in before putting the phone to his ear.

  He frowned as he promptly pulled the phone away from his head. “It’s busy.” His voice was distant and detached.

  “What do you mean it’s busy?” Sarah snapped.

  “Nine-one-one is ringing busy.” His father punched the numbers on his cell phone again and raised it to his ear. He quickly lowered it, shaking his head.

  “I-I-I have to get Ben inside. I have to stop the bleeding.” Mrs. Ward suddenly scooped up Ben and sprinted towards her house.

  “Come on.” Dylan’s father scooped him up with a wince, jogging towards their house.

  “What about Ben?” Dylan asked.

  “You need to get inside.” His father shouldered the front door open, leaving a long streak of blood. A large German shepherd scrambled around their feet, whimpering and licking Ben’s legs with concern.

  “But what about Ben?” Dylan insisted.

  “Dylan.” His father knelt down in front of him, cupping Dylan’s face in his hands. “I need you to listen to me. You need to stay here. You don’t open the door for anyone. Do you understand?”

  “Are you doing to help Ben?” Irritation flitted across his father’s face. Finally, he sighed and nodded solemnly. “I’ll be back as soon as the police get here, but I need you to stay here. I need to know that you are safe.”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  His father darted around the corner and reemerged a few moments later with a small first-aid kit and some towels. He kissed Dylan’s head and ran out the door.

  Dylan wrapped his arms around Apollo. The large dog nuzzled his head against Dylan’s side, licking his hands and whimpering. Dylan threaded his fingers through the dog’s long caramel- and black-colored fur. The dog smelled musty. It was light and pleasant, like the smell of the outdoors. Dylan buried his face in the dog’s
fur, letting the familiar smell fill his nostrils.

  The dog’s closeness was comforting. Apollo had always been around. For as long as Dylan could remember, Apollo had been his shadow. The beast slept at the end of Dylan’s bed at night, banishing the monster that crept through the dark. He stuck to Dylan’s side during the day, gratefully gulping down table scraps and playing whenever Dylan needed a friend. As Dylan watched television, he’d curl up on the floor, using Apollo’s fluffy body as a pillow rather than lying on the couch.

  As Dylan sat back up, he noticed streaks of red in Apollo’s coat. His hands were covered in the red. It was on his shirt too. Dylan walked to the bathroom, turning on the light and standing on a stool to reach the tap. The water turned pink as he stuck his hands underneath the running water.

  Dylan pulled off his shirt and shorts, tossing them to the floor and heading to his room. He pulled open a dresser drawer and fished out a new shirt. This one had a bunch of superheroes on its front.

  Dylan wished they were real. He needed Spiderman to come swinging in to save Ben. Or Superman could fly him to the doctor for help. Or the Hulk could have beaten the woman before she ever touched Ben. Dylan could feel tears welling up in his eyes again as he looked at the shirt.

  A cold nose touched his back and made Dylan jump. Apollo nudged his hand expectantly. Dylan smiled and obliged the dog, rubbing his ears. The dog leaned into Dylan’s hand, bowing his head as he enjoyed the affection.

  The front door opened and quickly closed. Dylan froze as Apollo perked up at the noise, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Dylan pulled on his shirt, along with a new pair of shorts, and cautiously stepped out into the hallway, with Apollo glued to his side.

  His dad stood in the entryway, his forehead resting against the door.

  “Dad?” The man jumped and spun around. His eyes were wild and afraid. Dylan thought there was more blood on him than before. He shrank back, Apollo’s fur clutched tightly in his fists. For a moment, Dylan didn’t see his father. He saw a monster.