by Brown, TW
“You couldn’t sleep either?” Marshawn stepped out of the shadows, a Thermos in his hand with steam wafting from the small mouth of the industrial looking device.
I shrugged. “Any noise from Griffin and his people?” Changing the subject was preferable to talking about my dreams…or nightmares as the case may be.
“They headed out just after dark. I think they left a mess for us to clean up.”
I laughed. “They think they are just gonna bop on down to Vegas and join some group that might or might not have power…I got news for him.”
I didn’t give them even a five percent chance of making it out of the metro area, much less all the way to Las Vegas. Not on foot, and the chances of the roads being open all the way between here and there if they did manage to find transport were slim to none.
“You packed?” Marshawn shook me from my dark thoughts regarding Griffin and his people. Well, mostly Griffin, but if those people were deluded enough to follow him, then they got what they deserved.
“Mostly.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
I considered the question. I could not think of any good reason to wait. The plan had already been shared to the extent that we were willing. All that remained was for us to get moving.
I headed into my tiny house and grabbed the pack sitting next to the door. I pulled the .30-06 with the laser scope from the wall rack and the ammo pouches that would give me a hundred rounds before I needed to worry about scrounging for more. I fastened the webbed belt with my holstered .45 and the pouch with four mags, each containing ten rounds, around my waist and then clipped on three different sizes of bladed weapons. Last but not least, I grabbed my walking stick. The end had been whittled to a point and then hardened in fire. If all else failed, I could jab it into the face of a zombie…or renegade biker.
By the time the sky was brightening enough that we could start making out details, we’d managed to put a few miles behind us. We had turned right on Springwater and passed by that house where all those cats had been. I couldn’t help but grip my walking stick tighter as we moseyed by. Every rustle of the grass had my bladder tightening to the point where it felt like it was the size of a thimble.
As we continued along, keeping to the center of the road, we passed more expensive homes, U-cut Christmas tree farms, and large pastures. A sound to our left got my attention and I spotted a single horse trotting away from a lone walker that stumbled along with its arms outstretched.
Out of some sort of instinct, I began to veer toward the obviously distressed creature. I crossed in front of Marshawn and felt his hand on my arm before I realized what I was doing.
“What’s the point?” the man asked.
“I…” and my words failed me. I shrugged my shoulders. “So we just do nothing?”
“If you want to cut the barbed wire and free it, great. But that thing is doomed either way. It can’t hide or seek safety.”
“It’s made it this long,” I shot back as the snorts of the large equine drifted on the morning stillness.
“Sure, and now it won’t. We can’t save every person and animal we encounter, Evan.”
A small part of me understood what the man was saying. And to his credit, I even saw the corners of his eyes tighten when the horse let out a frightened whinny. He didn’t enjoy this any more than I did. The difference was that he seemed to be further along in his ability to adapt to the harsh cruelness of our new reality.
It felt awful as I walked away. At least I never heard the poor, doomed animal scream. I doubt I would’ve been able to handle that.
As the morning brought more sunshine and warmth, I peeled out of my jacket, tying it around my waist. Marshawn made no such change, and I could not understand how he endured the heat so easily.
At last, it finally became too much. “Aren’t you roasting?”
“Not really,” Marshawn said with a shrug. “And before you ask or even get started, my buddies used to give me crap all the time about how I wore a coat no matter the weather. I can’t explain it. I think my body stays cooler or something because it has never even bothered me one bit. If I was hot, I’d take it off, but I like wearing my coat. Okay?”
And that was that. We continued on in companionable silence for most of the morning. On occasion, one or both of us would break off to deal with a zombie or two. My mind would not stop going back to that poor horse. During one of my periods of mental drifting, I was snapped out of things by a horrible scream.
I shook my head, making sure that it wasn’t just my imagination. Marshawn had stopped as well, confirming that the sound had not been part of my daydreams. He was looking off into some trees to our left. I could barely make out an older ramshackle house with a moss-covered roof and once white siding that was a dingy brown.
I was so intent in my scanning of the exterior of the house that I missed the misshapen lump that was a body sprawled at the edge of some tall grass running between two well-worn tracks carved into the ground by the countless tires driving up and down the entry drive to the mostly obscured residence.
A second scream made us both start toward the opening to the fenced property with “No Trespassing” signs nailed to the posts on either side. We each chose one of the worn tire paths, with me in the one that would bring me to the downed figure.
It didn’t take long to discover that the body was a zombie that had been dropped by a vicious spiking to the forehead. I didn’t give it more than a cursory glance once I saw that it had been dispatched.
The closer we drew to the residence, the more noise we could hear coming from inside. There was a thud and something that sounded like cloth being ripped. There was also a deep and almost mournful moan.
“Stupid reeker,” a voice that I could not determine the gender of scolded with an almost professorial tone. “You’re only making this harder on yourself.”
I glanced at Marshawn who had pulled up short of the steps leading to the front porch and an open front door. He returned my questioning look with one of his own. As we looked at each other, I heard a grunt and then a loud crash.
“Now you’ve done it!” the voice scolded.
More out of curiosity than a sense of urgency to help, I started up the three bowing steps that creaked threateningly underfoot. I peered inside the front entrance and had to allow my eyes to adjust to the interior gloom before I could make out the scene.
A figure in jeans, workers boots, and a hooded flannel shirt had its back to us. A zombie was trapped between a toppled corner hutch and a massive wooden dining room table. It was a young man in perhaps his early twenties or late teens. He was wearing a tee shirt featuring a band I’d never heard of and sported a nasty series of bites to his one visible arm that pawed at the air in a futile attempt to reach the person standing just a few feet away.
“Everything okay here?” Marshawn said, causing both the stranger and me to jump.
The person turned, weapon up in reflexive defense. He, as it turned out, was wielding what looked like it had once been a cane. It had both ends sharpened to points and one end had fresh, dark stains on it that I guessed came from the corpse we’d passed out front. The man looked like the Unabomber in that he had a scraggly beard that grew wildly and had obviously not been groomed in some time. This was something he’d obviously sported pre-zpoc.
His bright blue eyes were shining with what I was going to take as either intelligence or insanity. I estimated him to be maybe just a shade over five feet tall and a hundred pounds if he kept his clothes on. His hair was blond, and, despite him not being much into his twenties (if my guess was accurate), it was already streaked with gray.
“Don’t come any closer,” the man warned, thrusting his sharpened cane at first Marshawn and then me.
“We don’t want any problems,” I said, raising my hands. “We heard a scream and came to see if somebody was in trouble.”
“Yes?” the man answered with a cock of his head. “Well, nobody here nee
ds your help. You can go.”
“Was it you screaming?” Marshawn asked, apparently ignoring the request.
“Damn thing lurched out of the closet and caught me off guard. Nothing more to it than that.” The man lowered his weapon just a bit. “And…forgive my rudeness. Just seems that most folks are behaving quite poorly…if not predictably, to this new global calamity.”
“Yes, we’ve encountered a bit of that ourselves,” Marshawn said, keeping his distance, but making a show of sheathing his blade.
“Seen horrors that I never believed possible.” Now the man was no longer speaking to us. His face had gotten a faraway expression and his eyes closed, squeezing tight as he obviously recalled something horrible. “I used to read about this atrocity or that and think that it had to be an exaggeration by the media. Surely people could not perform such horrible acts upon one another.” The man’s shoulders slumped, and he gave a slight shudder. “How wrong I was…we are so much worse.”
“Not all of us,” I offered.
As all this went on, the zombie trapped behind the man had continued to struggle and swipe at the air as it reached for the diminutive person standing with his back to it. I had to struggle not to lunge past and end the creature.
“Listen, we are heading out for…” Marshawn began, but then paused as if unsure what to divulge.
“We have a camp back at McIver. Good people there,” I blurted. “You are welcome to go there and see if it is a good fit for you…perhaps settle down and become a part of our little community.”
I didn’t know why, but I had a very good vibe about this guy. Marshawn’s expression showed that he perhaps did not share in my feelings. And maybe it was not the best idea to give what was basically a stranger the location of our people, but if we weren’t going to try to build a strong and safe community, then what was the point? And we would need more people to join us if that was our ultimate goal.
The man peered at me, his eyes squinting despite there being no sunlight streaming in. Giving his chin a scratch, he seemed to consider my words like he might be searching for the catch. At last he gave his head a small shake as if coming to a decision.
“Seems like a generous offer, and perhaps one day I will consider it.” The man turned without any sort of warning and jabbed his cane into the zombie’s face and then turned back to me. “Just don’t think I’m ready quite yet. Still things I plan to see for myself. I got a few theories about these creatures.”
“Theories?” Marshawn asked.
“You don’t think this was some cosmic accident do ya?” the man rasped through a harsh laugh.
“I have no idea what to think,” I admitted.
There had been numerous theories before the world went dark. Many believed it was a terrorist attack. Other felt perhaps some strain of the flu. Hell, there were even those that blamed it on inoculations. As far as a solid, credible reason, I’d heard none from a source I would accept as gospel.
“Contrails.” The man pointed skyward as he let the word escape in a tone that was barely above a whisper.
“Say what?” Marshawn coughed.
I was about to excuse myself and had already taken a step back toward the doorway that led outside. I knew crazy when I heard it.
A low rumble froze me in my tracks. While I couldn’t swear without a visual confirmation, I felt certain I would look outside to see a school bus heading up the road in our direction.
Marshawn obviously thought something similar because he stepped to one side and moved to peer out the front room window. It was filthy and streaked with grime, so I worried that he might not be able to see a damn thing. I moved to the doorway and hugged the frame as I risked my own look outside.
A UPS truck was prowling along the road. Only, well, it was the UPS truck from Hell. Strapped to the grill were a pair of zombies—what was left of them. On the roof was a wire dog kennel of some sort. Inside it was what I could only guess had been a dog at one point. The undead version was so caked and matted in blood, filth, and gore that it was impossible to tell anything beyond the fact that it had four legs.
I could see a figure through the windshield, but the glare from the sun made it impossible to tell if there were more people inside. The vehicle slowed as it reached the T-intersection. For a moment, I worried that it might stop and come check out the house we were hiding in.
After the briefest of pauses, the truck turned left. I sighed an extra bit of relief as I realized that it was heading away from McIver and my people. While I couldn’t say with certainty, I had a hard time believing that whoever was inside was of the kind and decent sort.
“Third time in the past two days that rig has rolled by,” the stranger whispered. “Think they found somebody recently.”
“Why would you think that?” I asked, my own voice a whisper despite it being next to impossible that the person in that UPS truck could hear us as it slowly rolled away.
“Because he only had one of them things on the front last time he came by.”
I looked at Marshawn and he shrugged. It didn’t seem like this guy wanted any help from us. We kept an eye on the UPS truck until it vanished over a ridge and then we left the house. Our own travels would take us in the same direction that the UPS truck went, but it was far enough ahead and loud enough that it was not likely we would be caught by surprise by the occupant or occupants.
“Why do you think people do it?” Marshawn asked as we walked along.
“Do what?” I’d been on autopilot for a while. It was surprisingly easy to do. There was very little to see other than the dense trees that lined this long stretch of road. And since that house, we had neither seen nor smelled a single zombie.
“Turn into such vile creatures.”
I considered the question for a moment. I didn’t honestly know. I could only guess. “No law…no order…no accountability. Look at some of the crap we’ve been capable of throughout history. Any time somebody was in a position of absolute power, it seldom went well for others. Hell, even in the months leading up to this insanity, we had warlords in Africa wiping out villages, crazed zealots blowing themselves and others to bits, school shootings. It is inside us. Hell, if this story was being told from the other side, I bet we could be made out to be the bad guys.”
“I don’t buy that.” Marshawn shook his head. “We are going after a racist, murdering bastard that has no regard for anything or anybody.”
“I guess you’re right, but we are still going out with the intention of hunting down and killing somebody.”
“For the good of others…and ourselves.”
We walked along in silence again for a while and I allowed myself to try and recall some of my favorite memories of Stephanie. They came easily enough, but there was a haze to them. It couldn’t be possible that I was forgetting her this soon.
“Were you…” I paused, not sure how to phrase the question. “Did you have somebody before all this?”
Marshawn was silent for quite a while. I thought he was ignoring me. Perhaps he didn’t hear me, although I doubted it. Maybe it was a simple matter of it being none of my damn business.
“A wife and a little girl.”
I glanced over and noticed that he turned away like he didn’t want to make eye contact. I didn’t know if I’d brought out some emotion that he’d been squashing down or what, but I knew enough to keep my big mouth shut. If he had more to say, he would say it. Otherwise, I would take it as a closed topic. I wouldn’t have to wait long.
“We were just coming home from my mom’s house. Tisha was asleep in the back and Shonda was singing along with the radio.” Marshawn chuckled. “She always thought she could sing like Whitney…but I’m pretty sure there were dogs perking up as we passed.”
“She couldn’t sing well?” I asked before I realized it.
“Well?” Now Marshawn laughed, full and deep. “She couldn’t sing a lick. But that didn’t stop her from belting it out at the top of her lungs.”
&
nbsp; There was another moment of quiet. But now, when I snuck a glance, I could see a smile tugging the corner of Marshawn’s mouth up.
“We pulled into the driveway. There were lights on up and down the street, but I didn’t think anything of it at that moment. Hell, I didn’t even notice until after.” Marshawn wiped his face with a bandana that he pulled from his pocket.
Now I knew there was no way I could speak. His expression had grown dark and clouded. It was in that moment that I realized it was the first time I’d seen him without a hint of a smile or some expression like he was remembering a really funny joke.
“I never saw the damned thing.” Marshawn resumed his narrative, but his voice was barely a whisper. There was a strangled sound like he was trying to speak past a huge lump in his throat. “I scooped Tisha out of the back of the car and started for the front door. A light rain was just starting to fall, so I was trying to get her in quick.
“I had my key in the front door when Shonda let loose with the most horrifying scream I’d ever heard. You know the one.” Now I could see the reflection of the sun off the trail a tear had left as it rolled down his cheek. “It made Tisha start and she cried out before she’d even woken up all the way. Hell, I jumped. Almost dropped her in the process.
“When I turned around, I could see Shonda and some guy I couldn’t recognize. They were struggling beside the car and she’d thrown up her arm to fend him off. The guy…we know now, but then, they were just stories popping up on television, only, minus any of the details. Remember those first days when all we’d heard about was some town in Kentucky being quarantined?”
I thought back. I’d gone to work with those stories chirping in the background. Like so many people, I’d become numb to the over sensationalized media blasts of this flu or that virus. I’d hear about a handful of deaths and think, Big deal, there are billions of people and six died? It was hard to worry. That had changed with Stephanie’s frantic phone call as I’d started my day at the high school with all my dreams of affecting lives through turning them on to music.