The Famished Trilogy (Novella): Bailing Out into the Dead

by Walls, Annie

  Standing at our bedroom door, the bed was empty. I sucked down the beer and chucked the bottle in the bedroom trashcan. “Where is he?”

  “The c-closet.”

  Stepping into the large walk-in and flipping the light, empty water bottles and pop tart wrappers littered around the makeshift pallet where a sick man laid on top. It was obvious they’d lived in here for days. I recognized him immediately. This was Julie’s lover. She stood behind me, but stepped around and took a squat next to him.

  Grabbing his hand, she said, “Did you need something?” He only shook his head. Sweat plastered dark hair to his forehead and he stared at me with fevered eyes. A bandage covered his neck. I knocked clothes to the side on the rack with a screech of protest from the wire hangers. My bow case leaned against the wall. Taking my bow out, I engaged an arrow to make my intentions known.

  They had been watching me and Julie screamed, “What are you doing, Rudy?” Indignation colored her tone as if she couldn’t believe I’d do such a thing.

  “What happened to his neck, Jules?”

  She gasped in a quick ragged breath. “He was hurt by one of those things. P-protecting me.” She wrung her hands together. “I’m just helping him get better.”

  “He was hurt? Like, bitten?” I asked, coming to a decision.

  “Um….”

  “Yes, I was,” he rasped, as his eyes locked with mine. “Too many. Got…her to…safety.”

  “How long ago?” It might be good to see how long this process took.

  Julie glanced around the closet in panic, but he spoke. “This morning.”

  Why would she be going to the mailboxes this morning? Surely she had to have known what was going on outside. If I asked her, then she would know I was suspicious of her behavior. I wanted her to tell me the truth, but it looked like she wouldn’t anyway. Most likely they’d been holed up here, ran out of food and decided to run for it. Did she even care if I ever came back at all?

  “Jules, go make sure nothing comes through our front door.”

  “What? I’m not leaving this closet!”

  “Yes, you are, or I’ll lock you in the bathroom.”

  She regarded me and did the same to him. She wanted to say something or offer him more comfort. She was in a bind between her lover and letting me in on her lover. Maybe if she was honest with me, she could comfort him the way she wants, but being the bastard I am, I decided to let her squirm.

  The one thing she didn’t or couldn’t hold in was her tears. They flowed freely down her cheeks. “You’re going to kill him?” The question was a whisper.

  “No, but I’ll kill it when it’s not him anymore.”

  Julie glared at me with hate and bitterness. It used to bother me. I thought I was going to have to barricade her in the bathroom, but she glanced at him with red eyes. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed and stomped out, slamming the bedroom door. I winced, hoping it didn’t draw attention to the apartment.

  After checking outside through the blinds, I went back into the closet and closed the door, sinking down in front of it. I’d watch him until he turned. It looked like he’d be watching me, too.

  His weak gaze never left me. “You know,” he said, blinking his eyes closed a moment before staring at me again.

  I nodded. “I’m not a fucking idiot.”

  A laugh rasped out of him. “Why would she…choose me…over someone…like you? I couldn’t even get…us away from…here.”

  Maybe asking him if it looked like she had chosen him over me would be overkill, so I kept it to myself. “Jules thinks I have invisible scars she wants to heal.”

  “You…don’t?”

  His question caused me to sharpen my gaze. I scoffed at him. “Let me guess. She told you some sob story about me? If I know Jules, she exaggerated it. Whatever truth there is to it, she thinks it makes me weak.”

  What she didn’t realize was it made me stronger. It made me into the person I am.

  “Why…don’t you just…kill me already?” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. I shrugged. “You should…want to.”

  “Nah, not for the reason you’re thinking anyway. I’m no angel either.”

  He tried to laugh, but it came out a thick wheeze. “You…two are…fucked up.”

  I didn’t disagree with him.

  5

  Then

  The sick man fell asleep not long after our conversation. His breathing wheezed in and out of his flushed face. The bow resting between my legs and the gun at the small of my back gave me some reassurance while being in an enclosed space with this man. A light tap sounded on the door behind me before it opened, causing me to lean forward. I followed Julie’s rigid body to her anxious face.

  “What?” I asked and winced inwardly from the impatience in my voice. She glanced at—I didn’t even know his name. “What’s his name, anyway?”

  She sniffled a nose full of snot. “Um, it’s Aaron. I just…” Tears began to stream down her face, tracing a well-worn path from them. “I thought you might have killed him already.” They dripped off her jaw to her shaking arms.

  Springing up, I pushed her into the bedroom and closed the closet door behind us. Before I could say anything she came out with, “I need a moment with him.”

  “Why?”

  The light from the living room cast shadows on the right side of her face. Her bottom lip quaked and she brought the neck of her shirt over her face and cried softly into it. “Just because.” She lifted her face in a defiant gesture. “Move, Rudy,” she said with determination and tried to knock me out of the way.

  I blocked the closet door. “No. He could change at any moment, and you don’t need to be sitting beside him when he does.” I felt like a real insensitive asshole then, but I was only helping her. She just didn’t realize it yet.

  Her face blazed red in anger and the color crept into her scalp. The platinum blond hair stood out like a wig. “You’re such a fucking asshole! That man is d-dying and you don’t care that he’s dying alone!”

  “He’s not dying alone. I’m in there with him.” I kept my voice cool and collected. I had to or else this would turn into another typical screaming match and draw attention to us.

  Taylor’s form darkened the doorway. His head moved as if glancing between the two of us. “Is everything okay?” Maybe he thought we’d kill each other.

  “No, but it will be. If you need some sleep, there’s a bed in the spare bedroom,” I told him. I didn’t want to send him in there, but I didn’t want to deal with him right now. I had a dying man and Jules to deal with, so I had to give him dad’s room.

  “There’s medical equipment…” Taylor stammered, “Stacked on the bed.”

  My gaze went straight to Julie. She seemed sheepish, so I’d give her that. “What, Rudy? You sent him in there anyway!”

  A thick silence descended on us, making Taylor shuffle his feet. The distinct sound of a food wrapper crinkled from the closet, breaking through our awkwardness.

  Julie gasped thickly. “He’s hungry,” she hissed and weaseled her little body past me, opening the closet door. A heavy thud resonated and Julie shrieked before jumping back into me. Aaron’s momentum didn’t help him, but he closed the door in his attempt to grab Julie. “H-he’s…” She couldn’t finish whatever she was trying to cry at me.

  Blood rushed to my ears as I shoved her aside. She wailed, but was unable to catch her breath in between hiccups. I pulled on the handle to keep it closed in case zombie Aaron could open it. “Jules! Shut! Up!” She kept up the hysterical bawling as zombie Aaron tried to push through the door instead of opening it, reminding me of the zombies banging on the door when I had been stuck in the jail cell. I almost wished I were back in it.

  I left the closet door for a minute, knowing we were safe for the time being. “Taylor, please go make sure zombies don’t come crashing through the front door,” I ordered, wrapping my hand around Julie’s mouth. I forced her on top of the bed, putting my body weight on
her.

  I needed to get her to calm down. Snot ran over my fingers as she tried to breathe through her nose. Her tears eventually joined in as she fought to get out from underneath me.

  “Stop it, Julie!

  She spat in my hand in an attempt to ward me off. If she could open her mouth, she’d bite me. I held on tight even though her puerile behavior grated on my nerves. “Your hysterics will draw them to us. You. Need to calm down. Now!” I snarled in her face and I didn’t care. “Would you stop thinking about yourself for once?”

  My question calmed her somewhat, but she was still pissed. I could practically see horns on her forehead and steam blowing out of her nose. “This is what’s going to happen when I let you go. You’re going to pack whatever you can, anything you need, take a shower because I don’t know when you’ll have another chance. Then, get some sleep because as soon as day breaks, we leave. I shouldn’t need to tell you these things. There is a dead man stumbling around in our closet. A closet that has my shit in it! My bow that we’ll surely need moving forward. Understand?”

  Her eyes narrowed and it took her a minute, but she finally nodded. I released her by standing and wiped my hand on the comforter. She sat trying to regain some of her long lost dignity. The bottom half of her face was red and a twinge of guilt picked at me.

  A thump from inside the closet reminded me of my immediate problem. I checked outside first. The dead still roamed around mindlessly. I exhaled louder than I wanted to. Without turning to look at her I said, “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” I glanced at her. The light from the living room helped to pronounce her features.

  She ran her hands through her hair. “I know,” she whispered and stood with trembling legs. Her face turned toward the closet. The slump in her shoulders and the shaky bottom lip told me all I needed to know. I opened my mouth to say something, but she strode out of the room. The bathroom door closed a minute later.

  Flattening my hands on the doorframe of the closet, I leaned into it. I wanted to make this as easy and less messy as possible without making much noise. I stood straight because enervation was getting to me, and I felt like collapsing. My bow was in there and trying to remember where I laid it down seemed like a good plan. The door bumped, and I knew zombie Aaron was right on the other side.

  After a few deep breaths and cracking the door ajar, I kicked it open. The momentum of the door sent the zombie crashing to the other side of the closet in a tumble of limbs and wire hangers. While the zombie fought to right itself from the rack of clothing, I grabbed my bow that was thrown haphazardly to the side and wasted no time nocking and aiming an arrow. The zombie started to turn around and my arrow went straight into the side of its head. I slumped back as soon as it hit the floor.

  I took a minute to collect myself. Blood seeped into the carpet, and I avoided looking at his face altogether. The blanket on the floor was good enough for me to cover the corpse. I packed my arms full of clothes and extra boots, tossing them to the bedroom. The competition bow and arrows were my priority, however. Flicking the light off, I closed the closet door for good.

  Only around two hours had passed since Taylor and I arrived, but it felt like an eternity. The shower was running so I assumed Julie took my words to heart.

  Entering the living room, Taylor propped his elbows on his knees, sitting on the couch with one of the guns in his lap. His stare never wavered from the door. I sat next to him. His tired gaze slid to me.

  “We’ll wait till morning to leave. I think we can barricade ourselves in for now and take shifts to get some sleep. We both need it, and I don’t trust Julie to be clear headed enough to keep watch.”

  “That man is dead now?” he inquired.

  I lifted my chin in an affirmation. “He won’t be a problem.”

  The statement seemed to relax him. “Good.” He glanced to the entertainment center and pointed to it. “We can push that in front of the door, and I’ll take first watch. I slept a little bit earlier and can’t go back to sleep now.”

  The relief I felt to know he was stepping up made the exhaustion kick in more. After unplugging all the cords, we pushed and pulled the heavy piece of furniture over. We also pushed the couch in front of it, too. It wasn’t much, but could buy us precious seconds.

  The next thing I knew, I fell face first on the bed in the back bedroom and shoved the gun under the pillow next to me. Julie’s muffled cries came from the bathroom. My chest tightened at the sound. The last thing I needed to do was think about her crying but the deep-seated need to console her was still under the surface of my being. My energy needed to stay focused on keeping us alive long enough to get to Tennessee. It wouldn’t be just a get in the car and go trip. We needed to stop for food and gas along the way. It might be easier to switch cars if we could.

  After staring into space a while, a sparkle caught my eye on the nightstand. A ring sat there, mocking me, telling me it should have meant something, but all it did was make my stomach churn and my head hurt with confusion. I flopped to my back. My neck and shoulders ached with tension. Worries and doubts crept into my mind and it took some work to clear it. Eventually, my lids drooped heavier, and I fell asleep.

  I don’t know how long I slept but was instantly awakened by hands gliding on my thighs. The bed dipped down between my sprawled legs and a pale body came into view. Shock went through me at seeing her naked for the first time in a while.

  Julie looked down into my face as she straddled my hips. I was instantly apprehensive. “What are you doing, Jules?” Her hair had been brushed into glossy curls over a stoic expression. She ignored the question and continued tracing my body. I grabbed her wrists, but in a gentle manner. “Will you put some clothes on? We aren’t the only ones here.”

  “Remember when you were sixteen?”

  Why would she be bringing that up? I licked my lips because the question made me nervous nonetheless. “How can I forget?”

  Her lips tipped in a small half-smile. “I think we remember it for different reasons.” She was probably right. All I remembered at sixteen was towering over everyone awkwardly and while other boys had already grown into their own, I was stuck being a prepubescent sixteen-year-old with the voice of a twelve-year-old boy. I’d been a seriously late bloomer and developed a complex caused by peers and my own mother. By the time she had taken me to a doctor, Julie’s dad had talked to me and I knew I was okay, but the doctor assured my mom I was getting there. My height and nightly wet underwear were proof of that.

  When my body was ready, it made up for what it had lacked in seemingly important teenage years. The whole experience made me angry about the circumstances in which I could have had a heads up. Not only about my puberty delay but my large physique.

  When I thought about it now, I was glad I went through it that way. The mortification of it masked everything else and pushed it into a corner to be dealt with later.

  She shook her head. “I know what you’re thinking. Despite everything you went through, you were never bitter. I remember a guy who saw everyone else for who they were, not what they wore or looked like. You stood up for yourself whenever necessary. You stood up for me.” Her gaze drifted to our hands. The engagement ring adorned her finger again. “More than once. And if it weren’t for that guy, I’d be dead right now.”

  She had lost more of her marbles and was trying to find a coping mechanism. I sat, laying her on the pillow next to me and covered her with a blanket. “Jules, I think you may be in a little bit of shock and are undergoing some kind of post-traumatic stress.” If I were honest with myself, we all might be.

  My feet hit the floor, but I made the mistake of peeking at her over my shoulder. A sorrow so deep looked at me and matched my own perfectly. She tossed the blanket off and crawled to me. I turned from her, but her fingers played in my hair. “No, Rudy.” I froze because she was so close I felt her whisper on my ear. “I’m alive, you’re alive. I’m undergoing that and I want to feel it. With you.”

  I ser
iously doubt she thought that twenty-four hours ago. The fact her zombie lover was dead in the closet made this scenario all the more fucked up and I wanted away from her. Shaking my head, I told her, “I need to shower and then extend the same courtesy to Taylor. I’m sure I’ll enjoy feeling alive under much better circumstances.”

  The rejection sliced her and she pulled back. “I hope, one day, you’ll realize I love you and you’ll love me back, but I have a feeling you won’t ever be able to love anyone.” Even though I wasn’t in love with her, I did love her. She was the last person I held any affection for. It dawned on me then, it might be the same for her. Two peas in a pod, we were.

  Usually, I would give in to her manipulation, to make her think she was in control of herself and stay one step ahead of her. I was tired of being her enabler. I said give in, but it was more like I let my dick do the thinking. I wasn’t going to help her feel better for screwing Aaron. It would only add to my self-hatred. She should roll around in her own self-disgust for once.

  “Julie, you know that’s not true. I wouldn’t have come back if it was, so stop throwing digs just because I’m not bending to your sexual whims. Do me a favor?”

  She shot me a chilling glare. Good, I was on familiar territory that was easier to handle. “Take the spare bedroom and let Taylor sleep in here.”

  A huff came out of her as she crossed her arms. I raised my eyebrows. She rolled her eyes and climbed off the bed. “Fine.”

  “And please put on some clothes.” Her shoulder lifted as she left without another word. This was going to be a long trip.

  Standing, I picked some clean clothes off the floor. I skipped shaving and showered in scalding hot water. After getting dressed, I stuffed extra clothing into a leather duffle and went in the living room to relieve Taylor. The clock read two in the morning. I had slept longer than I thought.

  The clothes I handed him should fit him fine. After he settled in the bathroom, I sat in the recliner and noticed my vintage Gibson acoustic on its stand in the corner. Playing had been an outlet for me as a kid and I kept with routine practice ever since. I’d take it with us but I never had a hard case for it. The surface was worn and scratched which was why I bought it at a great price, but otherwise I took care of it so it still played like new. Upon more consideration, I fixed my quiver to the strap. Two birds, one stone. If I had anything sentimental, it’d be my guitar.