by Hawk, J. K.
“Pants.” The boy cooed as he cleared the rest of the mites away, and I complied, only to discover even more on my legs which he swiftly removed. “Skivvies.” This time I hesitated, until I realized the alternative to my refusal, and slowly shimmied them off. Abel immediately snickered, and normally I am not a modest man, but for a second became slightly ruffled at his rudeness. But once I dared to look down, I found what he was truly sneering at. Three of the dreaded arachnids suckled my testicles and one more dreadfully embedded into the head of my penis.
“Fuck me.” I mumbled.
“They must like you.” He said with another chuckle before drawing his blade closer to my nether regions. Although I was highly embarrassed, I allowed him to complete the task, noticing that he did not seem the least bit bothered by it. With each flick of the knife Iflinched and pulled away. “Bestill!”He commanded. “Or else I make you a woman.” And then, with a complete lack of tenderness, he grasped hold of my shaft, stretching out tight before flicking the last of the bugs from the tip. With a deep grimace I sighed in relief.
“Bend over and spread.” Abel snickered again.
“Shit!” I grumbled.
After clearing the remaining few I rushed to put my clothes back on and attempted to forget such a demeaning endeavor. With another deep sigh, I sat back down on a rock and tried to ignore the creepy crawly feeling that tingled all over my body. Abel on the other hand sauntered off, as if in search for some lost treasure hidden beneath the forest deadfall.
“Wait,” I called after him. “Shouldn’t I check you over?”
“No need.” He mumbled. “You’re blood much sweeter. Wait here.”
Swiftly he vanished around a cluster of thick spruce and I stayed in place as commanded, bewildered at his nonchalant attitude. But, I soon came to the realization about his lack of concern as I thought back upon all I have learned about Valkyrie. Much like mosquitoes, blood sucking insects and parasites tend to avoid the Infected, and have only been observed feeding upon them in rare occasions. The boy was right, my own untainted blood is much more appetizing to them.
Within minutes Abel returned with a bundle of purple flowers attached to long green and leafy stems. Using two stones he proceeded to mash the plants together into a thick gloopy paste, being sure every fiber of the vegetation was masticated and almost liquefied. Then, with his grimy hands, he scooped up the mass and handed it out to me.
“Eat.” He stammered.
“What is it?”
“Heal-All.” He said, holding the mash even closer to my face. “Will fight the sickness.”
Hesitantly I scooped up the sludge and took a quick sniff of its aromatic juices, much like a combination of roses and fresh mowed grass. Its flavor on the other hand had less to be desired, overly bitter as the juices coated my mouth and throat with a tingling numbness similar to that of Novocain. But still, I choked it down, knowing all too well the numerous diseases those little bastards carry, and presumably newer strains that have been undocumented due to the rise of the dead.
Abel then removed a few Juniper balms from his pouch and once again began to pound them out with the rocks. This time, however, he did not grind them into a pulp. Instead he lightly crushed them, releasing the oils which I was aware would help to ward off any further parasites. Once satisfied he handed them to me which I immediately secured on my shoes, belt, and commenced rubbing the needles all over my exposed skin.
“We go now!” He demanded, apparently no longer enthused with the delay.
It wasn’t long before we reached the limit of our hike and slowly made our way downhill towards the south. We travelled for maybe a half hour before the trees began to thin and the silhouette of the cabin came into view. Steph sat by the fire-pit reading over Adam’s journal but soon noticed our approach and rose to greet us. The look upon her face was that of complete disapproval and anger.
“Do you know how worried I was?” She stammered.
“You check him this time!” Abel spat as he stormed into the cabin.
“Check you for what?” She asked, and I could feel my face blush with embarrassment.
PAPA
“Awake! We go now!” Abel’s voice broke me out of a dead sleep and I found him standing above me with a machete in one hand and a squirming rabbit in the other. For a moment I thought I was dreaming until the boy landing a swift kicked into my ribs. My first reaction was to lash out upon the ill-mannered juvenile, however I restrained my temper and rose from my dusty earthen bed and turned to wake up Steph.
“No!” He scowled. “She sleep, you come.”
Without protest I follow the boy out into the dark forest. “Where are we going?” I asked, but received no answer. The moonless sky above provided us with little illumination but
did produce a magnificent view of the Milky-Way as it stretched remarkably across the heavens with brilliance. The mammoth hemlocks that canvas this mountain-side cast ominous shadows upon the myriad of shadows from everything else, the dead could be all about us and we would never know it. And the eerie silence was muffled over our deafening footsteps as the occasional chorus of hungry nocturnal owls echoed like ghosts.
Already it was apparent that we were in for a smoldering summer day, as I estimated the temperature to be in the midseventies, our landscape barely cooling during the night. Already I had broken a sweat, and panted heavily, trying with all my might to catch my breath as well as keep pace with the unhindered boy. He blazed across the mountainside quietly and with purpose, never once looking back to see how I was doing.
Just as a delicate shade of blue began to stretch across the sky, the rabbit that Abel carried firmly in hand had become fed-up with his situation. From the shallow depths of its lungs, it released a blood curdling squeal that reverberated throughout the forest, stopping my heart and waking Mother Nature from a peaceful slumber, not to mention potentially alerting the Infected. Of course there were no howls, no screeches of rage, but my hands trembled in fear just the same at every pitiful wail from the helpless hare.
Every minute that passed on our trek the forest became brighter and brighter, revealing all those shadows as mere bush and boulder, easing the concerns that clawed my nerves like a spastic cat. And as dawn drew upon us we stopped before a large crevice that stretched up through the mountains steep ledges. Only a mere five feet across and maybe thirty feet long, but the fissure itself was quite deep, dark and unmeasurable. But somewhere within that darkness a raspy repetitive breath could be heard, undulating like a soft wind through a canyon.
The boy, still silent and branding a look of irritation, pulled a small pocket knife from his trousers and held the rabbit firmly above the weathered fracture. The rabbit fervently struggled from the boys grip, releasing on last squeal before Abel slashed its throat with one swift stroke. A stream of blood trickling down its pelt before pouring into the rocks, and the raspy breaths from below became louder and followed by a distinct and clumsy shuffle.
Nonchalantly Abel opened his hand and let the rabbit drop down into the darkness which soon landed with a muddle plop, followed by the sounds of flesh being torn, smacking lips, and crunching bones. Silently I watched the boy as he stared down into the darkness without emotion, his face as empty as that void. I was confused, uncertain of the significance of his actions, and unwilling to question him in fear of once again infuriating his temper.
It wasn’t long before the sun had completely crested over the mountains, and a blazing beam of brilliance poured down from the canopy and into the hole before us. The temp had already jumped another ten degrees, but I ignored the swelter as I peered a mere eight feet down into the hole, there, huddled the decrepit remains of an infected soul, desperately tearing away at the rabbit carcass like a ravenous animal. He was adorn in mangy animal hides, and his hair, although scraggly and matted, hung like greasy strands down over his face. However, within moments, when all the flesh had been picked clean from the bones, this diseased man looked up begging for more
.
“Papa.” The boy said as he knelt down to get a closer look as his father, at Adam, at this renowned and tormented Survivor. For me, it was surreal, like meeting America’s forefathers after a hundred years, or in this case laying eyes inside their historic tombs and seeing the awesome power of decay. I slumped down on the edge and just watched as the too stared back at each other, and in Adam’s eyes was that same recognition that I had seen within my daughters own. It was all too much.
I assume at the time Adam had ventured off to confront the raiders that had moved in next door that this crevice was masked by layers of forest debris. Hidden beneath a blanket of twigs and leaves just waiting for someone or something to wander over it. How he ended up with the infection may never be known, but what was apparent, was that he had fared well over the past year. Aside from the flat eyes, and the pasty gray skin, he had not begun the complete metamorphosis that most succumb too, and thankfully he had not contracted the latest mutation. If so, this vertical tomb would be no challenge for him to scale.
“How you know my Papa.” The boy finally asked. “I was there.” I said. “At the ocean during your birth.” “You watched?”
“No, Abel, I found your mother after…” I paused, once again
choosing my words wisely. “After she had gone to sleep.” “You did not try to save Mama?” He asked in concern. “By then it was too late. And you and your Papa had already
moved on.” He just stared at me, waiting for more. “I found one of your father’s journals lying next to your mother. His story was profound, and is highly regarded amongst my people.” I’m not sure if he truly understood.
“You have it here?” He asked.
“It’s back at the camp, but yes.”
“Will you read it to me?”
“Of course.” Isaid, smilingat his first hint of humanity. “Abel,”
I continued. “He is suffering, you do know that right.” I said gesturing down to his father who was slowly becoming agitated. “We should set him free, end his pain.”
“No.” He said sullenly. “I need my Papa.” Adam stretched his arms upwards, reaching for his own flesh and blood, but not in compassion but in hunger. Abel in return reach down and briefly their fingertips brushed one another’s. A single tear fell from the boy’s eyes, splattering upon his father’s forehead like a stray rain drop upon the sidewalk. I knew what I had to do, I had to free this remarkable man, but the boy would not allow it. And surely he would kill me if I defied his wishes, so I racked my brain, searching for options to coax Abel into making the right decision.
My first thought was to sneak off during the night and simply crush his skull with a rock. However, it is doubtful I’d find my way back here, and most likely get lost. Let alone the fact that it is almost impossible to get anything by the boy, he seems to hear all and watches me like a hawk. So I tossed the idea away and settled for simply debating the boy. Chipping away at his stubbornness until he was ready to release his old man.
We stood above the crevice for some time, mostly in silence, but on occasion the boy would speak. Of course, not to me, but to his father. In a way he seemed to converse with him, asking and answering questions, as if he could hear the man’s every thought. Eerie does not even begin to describe it, with each word a cold shiver ran down my body. But I did not interrupt, instead I watched and listened, taking note of the odd and mournful interaction.
“Yes, Papa, I did.” He said. “No, I have food.” He uttered with a smile. “They like me. The girl too. And I like her.” His face blushing. “She’s much older than me. But I can wait.” It was cute, like a school boy telling his father of his first crush. “I will be back in two moons, I’ll bring chicken this time.” And with another quick reach and brush against his father’s filthy fingers, Abel rose to his feet and headed back towards the cabin.
“How did you find him?” I asked as I followed.
“His screams.” He muttered. “While hunting.” He paused a moment, stopping mid step, then looked up at me with the saddest of eyes. “I ran home, to get rope, but when I returned,” His head hung low, “He was changed.” I could see his guilt.
“It wasn’t your fault.” I mentioned. “You did all that you could do.”
“I could have climbed down. Helped lift him up. Instead of leaving him there.” He stammered.
“There is always ‘Should Haves’ ‘Could Haves’ and ‘What Ifs’ in any situation.” I said, trying to ease his guilt with some inspiration. “All that matters is that you tried. Your father saw that.”
“Did you try to save my mother?” He said in anger.
“In a way Idid. Ididn’t know about her until she was gone. But, she passed because I was trying to save all people, her included. I am saddened by the outcome, and I too feel guilty. But on the other hand, she gave you a gift, which is why I am here.”
“A gift?” He asked.
“Yes. You do know that you are different, right?”
“I’m not like you, I’m like them.”
“You are better than them.” I said, referring to the damned. “You hold the secret to defeating them.”
“I do?”
“Yes, Deep inside.”
Abel looked down at himself, pondering my words, but said no more. Slowly we continued on, back to the cabin, in our own dark and endless depression. Amongst all of those who have suffered over the years, it is this boy’s suffering that pains me the most. He knows not of the betrayal of man, nothing of the corruption that once fed society. And yet, my compassion for him is greater than that of a child taken by the Infected. He suffers from indifference, a black pearl in a sea of white, and his only aspirations are to fill the emptiness of losing his mother, and now his father.
Inspired Reunion
“What if you could talked to him?” I asked Abel as we sat in front of the fire, listening to the sounds of the evening pass by. “So you could say goodbye.” My offer was both improbable and premature.
“How?” He asked. “You will just have to trust me. But onlyif you promise to allow me to end his pain afterwards.” I included.
Abel sat at the edge of his chair, staring into the glowing embers and contemplating my offer. Even though earlier it appeared that he was having a conversation with his lost patriarch, I knew it was all just mournful delusion, and to actually have words with his beloved would bring closure for him. So, after a few moments the boy turned towards me and with eyes full of curiosity and despair he silently nodded.
To achieve such a task, will require more than just luck, I thought to myself.
* * * * * Adam struggled in his birch-tree chair like a mad beast, fighting the restraints and gnashing his teeth at me with furious hatred. I was still in awe to be in his presence, even in his current condition, he was a celebrity and I was a teenage groupie with complete admiration. While the boy was out gathering supplies, I sat before his father and just gazed into those empty eyes, knowing all too well the he was consciously staring back at me.
It took a better part of the day for Abel and me to subdue and hoist the large man out of that crevice, but it wasn’t without its depressing rewards. After lassoing his arms and bagging his head, I lowered myself into his tomb to secure the rest of his body so that the boy could haul his old man to the surface. As Adam’s legs flailed on the way up, I got a glimpse of his demise, a putrid wound on his right calve. Then, Not far away within the fissure lay a pile of human bones, assumingly the Infected that turned Adam, and upon the ledge wall was the boy’s name, Abel, scratched sloppily into the stone, the L stretched out longer than any of the other letters, and less identifiable. The change was quick, far too fast for him to complete the inscription.
The hike back was fairly uneventful, with Adam’s arms restrained and eyes covered, he became almost docile, and followed our lead with little resistance. When we arrived back at the cabin Steph was awake and cooking breakfast upon the fire, two cans of aged and unidentifiable soup, Mrs. Smith’s Chicken No
odle I assumed. Unknowing of our objective, my young assistant immediately became hysterical at the sight of our new friend, and grabbed a rusted axe to put an end to the threat. The fury in her eyes was unlike any other emotion I had seen her possess, once a quite intellectual kitten, had become a frenzied cougar.
“STEPH! NO!” I shouted as I held tight onto Adam as he writhed within his binds.
“YOU NO HURT PAPA!” Abel cried as he stormed forward to block her approach. She stopped mid step as her eyes darted from me to Abel and then the bound monster.
“Papa?” She questioned.
“Help us.” I ordered, there was no time for explanation.
I was highly concerned that I would not be able to duplicate the same procedure that had opened my eyes to the true terror of this infliction. But I had made a promise, and if it should fail, I could at least die at the hands of the boy with dignity, knowing that I tried to give something back to Abel and to the Survivor. However I hoped Steph would be my saving grace, the boy’s infatuation for her was all that I had going for me in the end.
After a while of mesmerizing, Steph kicked me into gear. It seemed fitting to get as much done as possible in the boys absence, as not to trouble Abel any further than he already was. I had tasked the boy with scavenging further supplies for the procedure, necessary supplies, but also just a diversion for the boy while we worked. After strapping the man down to the chair I secured a twoby-four vertically to the backrest of the chair, I utilized a thick layer of ducttape to restrain Adam’s head from bucking forward as I cut into his skull with the bone saw from my pack. The crown pried off fairly easily revealing his dark and infectious gray-matter. Respectfully I placed it into a box to reattach when the procedure was complete, I wanted to treat his remains with as much respect as possible, for Abel and out of consideration for Adam.