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

by Walls, Annie

  When the soldier grasped the waistband of her little denim shorts, Michelle finally let loose her sobs.

  I pushed past Taylor. “What the fuck is your problem?” I shoved the guy into the grass and leaned over him, grabbing for his uniform. “Show a little common courtesy.” Agony smashed through my jaw, causing my head to whip sideways. They hit me with an automatic rifle.

  Two pairs of hands yanked me backward. The next thing I knew I was on the ground and thick grass poked through my shirt. Using my arms, I shoved them off me. The butt of a rifle flashed before smacking me in my jaw again. Fuck! An agonized grunt escaped me. “Can’t use your fist?” I gritted out before slinging my own into the guy’s face on my right.

  “You’re gonna pay for that,” he growled as blood seeped from his nose.

  I was acutely aware of the girls screaming. They shouldn’t be watching this. The other guy seized me again and held me with his body weight. I elbowed him in the throat and as he gagged, I kicked at another. One struck me in the stomach, taking my breath. Bloody Nose jumped on me to try and restrain my limbs, but I jerked my arm away. I was rolled to my stomach and got to my hands and knees, shoving his to the ground by his shoulder. Another dude attempted to stop me by grabbing my midsection, but I just wrapped my arm around his neck and used some momentum to pack more punch into my fist as it connected with his face. I would’ve laughed at their efforts if I weren’t so fucking pissed off.

  I got in a few good hits, but I was still outnumbered. A heavy kick landed on my back. Thick brush dug into my face and poked my eye as I face planted on the ground. When I pushed to a kneeling position, Bloody Nose smirked and kneed me dangerously close to my balls in the sensitive upper thigh area. I instinctively moved to cover myself. The other two took the chance and wrestled to hold my arms and legs down.

  A commanding voice came from across the street. “Get up! Now!” All of us were breathing heavy and it seemed as though they didn’t want to let up. The three soldiers finally stood, but I stayed where I was on the ground.

  My breath huffed, anger still coursing through me. They whispered intensely to each other as I wiped away sweat, grass, and blood. My jaw ached and from experience, I knew it’d get much worse before it got better. Julie squatted next to me, but I stood. “I’m good,” I mumbled not looking at her but at Michelle. She seemed terrified. I forced myself to flash the girl a smile to let her know I was okay. Marie shot me a concerned expression but nodded her thanks.

  The man from earlier made his way over. His furious gaze cut into all of us. “What the fuck is going on? Get these civilians to triage now!”

  “This one goes to quarantine,” someone said, poking me and pushed me forward by kicking my lower back. My jaw clenched and I forced my fists to relax.

  The man’s eyes scanned me from head to toe. “Why?”

  “His arms are scratched and he’s showing signs of hostility.”

  I spun around ready to wrap my hands around his throat, realizing it was Bloody Nose. “You were manhandling a terrified little girl.” I don’t bother to defend my scratches. My words were ignored.

  The man pulled me back. “It’s standard operating procedure. I think you need to calm down. You’ll be in there a few days at most. If you have a problem with that, you’ll be left out here.”

  “Just go, Rudy,” Julie pleaded. “Please.”

  I couldn’t say anything without making this situation worse, so I kept my mouth shut and nodded. The man snapped his fingers. If he snapped his fingers again, I’d break them. I looked to my companions. They were getting things out of the car to be herded to the soft-top military vehicle with other survivors.

  “Stay here.” The man walked away.

  I watched him converse with his men. A hand fell on my shoulder. I turned to see Taylor with my bag, guitar, and bow. He looked to the smoke billowing over the tree line. “I should probably hold on to these for you, if you want.”

  “Thanks,” I told him. He gave me a reassuring pat and walked off as I returned to watching the soldiers and keeping myself under control.

  The man caught me looking and waved me over. After that, I watched survivors trickle in, and soldiers shoot the dead.

  The sun sweltered on me, even in the shade. Sweat ran down my chest, back, and arms, soaking my shirt. The perspiration dripping over my face stung open scratches from the fight and my encounter with dense foliage. Dust clung to my exposed skin. After a few hours, I could distinctly smell myself. Miserable didn’t begin to cover how I felt. This was beginning to compete with the jail cell as the most trying time in my life.

  A woman with poofy hair dropped to her knees, begging and pleading with a soldier as he opened a hatchback of a huge SUV. He jumped back and cursed. When he took stance, he shot several rounds into the vehicle. The woman fell to the ground with an audible smack. She didn’t even try to catch herself, sobbing uncontrollably with her cheek against the road. I looked away as they brought her over to the quarantine line.

  The man, Sergeant Myer, told me two days ago the base had been bombarded with zombies, so they weren’t able to bring in new people until they could clear them out. By then, most survivors were dead or dying. He told me Taylor and the girls would get showers, medical treatment, hot food, and an assigned space to sleep. They would also be assigned a work duty. I felt better knowing I didn’t have to worry too much about them. It did not escape my notice he left out what the quarantine consisted of, and I’d resigned myself to whatever was about to happen even though I wanted to ask for details.

  By the time he rounded on me again, more people were added to the quarantine list with the woman I watched fall to the asphalt and me. Three women, a man, and a teenage boy all looked worse off than I was with their flushed faces. They seemed accepting of their fate. A few cried silently and the others stared into space. One woman could pass out and turn right there. She had a few bandages on her arms, oozing blood.

  We rode in the soft-top to a huge fenced area that housed tents. Outside the fence, a gigantic fire burned. The pit’s charred contents sent black smoke swelling into dark clouds, making the sky look ready for a storm. I imagined it never stopped burning. Once inside, the smell along with the heat soured my stomach. The easiest thing to do was focus on what was coming and not what was happening anywhere else. I couldn’t help but see body after body being thrown into the pits.

  We were made to sit in the grass after our clothes were taken and thrown in the burn pile. I had to endure watching everyone get hosed down with high-pressure water. I would have protested, but it would have been pointless. They did what they had to do under the extreme circumstances. Space was limited and not to be wasted on people that might die. Including me. Although, I was sure I wouldn’t. I suspected they knew I wouldn’t either, but needed to let me know they were in control.

  The teenage boy screamed out in pain, trying to cover himself from the worst of the water blast. His pale skin took on a red tinge as his underwear clung to his body. Poor kid— he might as well be stripped naked. I remembered all too well being that age when everything embarrassed the fuck out of you.

  Bloody Nose stood watch for any immediate danger. He glanced at me with a smug smirk I’d have liked to wipe off his face with my boot tread. “Told you you’d pay.” A surge of anger boiled my blood, but I remained seated in the grass and inwardly fumed about having to sit and watch this, and who knew what else.

  A whistle cut through the air startling everyone. A man in a white coat rushed out of the tent. I realized the woman who had been worse-off was dead. White-coat man leaned down to check her pulse while the soldier stood over them. When the man nodded, the soldier shot her in the head. The kid stared at the scene in horror, and I did the same. The man pulled some things out of his white coat. He went through the process of swiping inside her mouth and taking her blood.

  Business went on as usual because another man we just met, Mr. Carrington, a quarantine official, called me by name. He had ta
ken a short survey on us all and took notes on an electronic notepad. Our pictures were also taken for their records. Mr. Carrington was plump and breathed heavy when he walked. “Mr. Hawthorne, this won’t take but a second.”

  I stood in their makeshift shower, and the water turned on immediately. The hot pressure stung my jaw, so I tried to turn away, but the hose went where it wanted to. In all honesty, the pressure wasn’t so bad, but the temperature was scalding hot. It was over before I could start complaining. Not that I would.

  Mr. Carrington directed me into a tent, but not before I saw the woman’s body being taken away. Inside the tent, they did the same thing to me as the woman by taking my blood and swiping saliva from my mouth. Mr. Carrington let me know if I passed the quarantine I’d be given a full physical examination.

  After all was said and done, my stomach felt like an open pit and I was taken to another tent. The inside of it made me glad there was nothing in my stomach. Cages were lined in temporary aisles. Most of them filled with extremely ill people. I figured by the time they let me out of this place, I would have seen a lot of things I could do without seeing. But wouldn’t it be a bitch if just being here got me sick?

  10

  Then

  Staring out from inside a cage changed my perspective on things. Not only did I feel helpless but also the cage itself closed in on me from time to time like one of those optical illusion images. If I stared at it long enough, it warped and moved.

  The inside of this tent looked like rows of endless dog kennels placed about a foot apart from each other. My cage smelled like bleach from the previous occupant. It was long enough to lie down completely and tall enough to stand, but the cages seemed to have zero width. The openings weren’t big enough to stick my hands through. I guessed so when people turned they couldn’t reach out to anyone.

  Mr. Carrington and his staff had given me a thin sleeping bag, but no T-shirt. What was the point of clothes if you were going to turn and be thrown in a fire pit? I saw the point in everything they did, even if it seemed cruel. This was the simplest way to wade through everyone. My understanding didn’t make me any less bitter about it being done to me.

  I’d already eaten four meals of drugged bologna sandwiches and watched nine people turn before they were shot down. To say my nerves were nonexistent would be an understatement. Even whatever drug they gave us wasn’t enough to block it out. It was barely enough to keep everyone semi-docile. It took me two sandwiches to figure it because as soon as I could think clearly enough to use any strength, another sandwich and bottled water would come. Did I mind being drugged? Not at all. It fogged what was going on and at least I have food and water in this cell.

  The previous night I tried to sleep, but the whimpering, crying, and general sounds of hopelessness and despair were enough to keep anyone awake. Exhaustion weighed me down without taking me under. I kept my eyes to myself as much as possible after catching my neighbor using his bedpan. At least he used it. Some of these people were so sick they didn’t bother.

  The sound of the tent flap fluttered and sunlight streamed in before it cut completely out.

  The misery poured from the other cages. “Help me!”

  “I’m fine. Let me out!” Steel rattled as a cage shook violently.

  “Will you get me some aspirin? My head hurts.”

  “The guy next to me is dead! I know it! Kill it!” The woman who said this always said the same thing. It didn’t take her long to figure out how to gain attention. Unfortunately, she was now the boy who cried wolf.

  They were all ignored as the squeak of a rolling cart told me it was food time again. As it passed I realized I was wrong. The cart carried the disinfected cages for reuse.

  I spoke, putting in my share. “Can I get the fuck out of here, yet? I’m not a goddamned dog, and I’m sure as hell not a zombie.” Gravel would have sounded better than my voice. I was surprised to see James, a gofer guy from what I’ve gathered, and his arms trembled as he and another guy replaced the heavy cages in their rightful places. They both ignored me, too. “James.”

  James’ body stiffened even more than it already was. “I can’t let you out.” It was the first time I had heard his voice, but he still didn’t look at me. From the look of his clothes and his tense demeanor, someone had slung soggy bread, maybe even some chewed up bologna on him.

  I grabbed the cage and put my face to it as if I could get closer to him. “At least tell Mr. Carrington I need to speak with him.” I knew I’d only been in this cage for a little over twenty-four hours, but it was twenty-four hours too long. I wanted to stretch my legs, breathe fresh air, get the hell out of this horror tent and take a shower. Discarding the pair of boxers I’d been wearing since I had showered at the apartment was priority number one. Even if I had to go commando for a while, I didn’t care.

  I watched James stand there with his tense posture while the others screamed at him. His nod was barely perceptible. They finished with the cages and left as soon as they could. I sighed and leaned back against my cage, busying myself by imagining stabbing the soldier who had suggested I be put in here. The image it conjured didn’t help reign in my frustration.

  A few hours passed, and I felt relatively calm since I had convinced the food man to give me two sandwiches. The unmistakable sound of loud flatulence drew my attention to the cage beside mine. The man in it had been increasingly wheezing and I knew his time would come to an end soon. He was lying on his side with his back to me. I watched for any signs of breathing when his white briefs became darker as they filled and leaked out of the sides. Assuming this was his body’s final bowel movement, I hurried to the other side of my cage.

  It didn’t take long for him to start groaning and moving—in his own feces, slinging it around with his actions.

  “Christ, help us!” The lady on his other side shrieked, but her own cracking breaths muffled it. The zombie smashed against the cage trying to get to her. To keep from looking at his shit-covered legs, I diverted my own gaze, landing on the teenage boy from yesterday. His hair stuck to his neck and the sides of his face. My stomach sank and my body fizzed as sadness filled me. I was hoping he’d make it.

  I sank to the bottom of the cage and put my head on my knees. Closing my eyes, the sounds as people realized a zombie was in their midst fell to my ears. Trying to block it out, I pictured the sights and sounds of a sunny day in the swamp of my childhood, plucking a riff, drinking a beer, a nice pair of tits, but nothing would stick for long.

  Finally, the tent flap flopped open and heavy stomps came this way. I waited for the gunshot and the nasty splatter across the floor. Lifting my head, I watched as they removed the cage from its spot.

  I gripped the cage with my fingers. “I’m not going to turn. Let me out.” The soldier solely responsible for my quarantine turned to face me. A smirk drifted across his face as a shoulder lifted. He turned and walked away. I smacked the cage and dropped back down.

  The next morning the teenage boy turned. There were soldiers in the tent so it was a short affair. He was first child zombie I’d seen even though it only lasted a few seconds. From my observations, the time it took to turn varies.

  A few hours later, Mr. Carrington came for me. He smiled. “Congratulations, Mr. Hawthorne. Follow me.”

  I resisted the urge to punch him in his chubby face. Who smiles during situations like these? I followed him out.

  It took the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon to go through an examination process, even the whole turn my head and cough deal. I was given my stuff, including my bow and arrows. Apparently, Taylor made arrangements for them. I’d thank him as soon as I saw him. They allowed me to get dressed and I finally tossed the boxers. Good riddance.

  After a brief tour and an orientation, I came to the conclusion that they were trying to stay as organized as possible with the resources they had. They didn’t tell me anything useful, but I hoped they were still figuring things out. Whoever they were, I didn’t kn
ow. All I cared about was getting some sleep and putting myself back together so I could think clearly.

  It was late afternoon when I was assigned a bed. Since the coordinators seemed apologetic for what I went through, they gave me a choice. I could either sleep in the bunks with a bunch of other smelly dudes or there was a bed in a house available and I’d only have a roommate. When I choose the latter, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

  The house was in a family development, and upon finding it, I noticed the other houses seemed to have a few families in it. Most of them packed full. Trepidation ran through me as I wondered how this guy got a house to himself.

  To be polite I knocked on the door and hoped he already expected me. I was ready to pass out on my feet. Even so, my nerves got the better of me. Moving forward and trying to forget the past few weeks seemed impossible.

  When it opened, I looked down somewhat to a shirtless guy with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. Dog tags rested on his chest. The guy was short. Great. Just what I needed, a guy with a chip on his shoulder, but when we locked stares something else lurked there. I realized then he wasn’t a bit intimidated by my size, or me.

  “Brian McCollins?” I asked just to be sure. The guy was checking out my bow and guitar with narrowed eyes. I noticed they had dark circles underneath and his short, sandy hair stuck out in different directions as if he needed another buzzcut soon.

  He fingered the cigarette and blew out smoke. “Brian Mac Collins,” he corrected. “You can call me Mac. You must be Rudolph.” His lips tipped in a mirthless smile as he sized me up. “Not really what I was expecting.”