Behind Our Walls

by Chad A. Clark

  There was a movie theater though.

  Stella wanted to check it out because we needed to restock on supplies. I wanted to skip it but she was right. You need to take every opportunity that comes along and since we thought the town was dead we figured it would be all right.

  You're going to think I'm lying but I swear to god - the lobby still smelled like butter. I don't know how that could be possible and maybe I was just making it up in my head with the association but honestly, it still smelled like melted butter and popcorn. The big oversized posters of classic films behind heavy glass really took me back.

  The display case where they had kept the candy was completely shattered. There might have been a few random pieces in the mess but nothing worth digging through broken glass to get at. Besides, with the kind of diet we live on these days, candy is never really a good idea anymore. The popcorn machine looked like it hadn't been touched. The registers were gone - must have vanished back when money still had some value to people.

  There was just one screen and the theater itself was rank. The air was heavy and hot and it reeked of dried sweat and urine and vomit and shit - somehow all mixed up into one bad smell. Stella said we had to make sure no one was hiding in there so we checked every chair and aisle. I found a pair of shoes about halfway down. One of them still had a foot in it. They weren't my size anyway.

  We found what we thought was a guy sleeping in the second row. Turns out he wasn't asleep. There was an empty pill bottle on the floor next to him so I guess he decided to book his own flight. Just didn't have any survival left in him. He was clutching a picture of a pretty attractive woman – who knows what happened to her – nothing good I'm sure. I can imagine him coming here - to the one place left he remembered making him happy and choosing to end it here. Sometimes it's better to go out on your own terms.

  There wasn't anything else in the theater so we went upstairs to the projection room. Stella found three canisters of film in the back of a file cabinet that we might be able to use to make rope. I don't know how long we were in there before the closet door blew open and the guy came jumping out at us. He was holding Stella down and choking her. He had pushed me to the side I think. All I remember is being on the floor.

  I thought I had shit myself but Stella needed my help. I hit the guy on the head with an empty film can but I think I just made him more mad than anything. Stella's face was getting bright red and her eyes were kind of glossed over. The guy was reaching at me with his other hand trying to get a hold of my jacket. I managed to scoot away from him and found a snow globe on the desk. It was a bit smaller than a baseball and really heavy so I threw it at the guy as hard as I could.

  I was never any good at sports so I'm probably lucky that it didn't hit Stella. The sound that it made freaked my out, it was like this dull, hollow sound like you get if you've ever dropped a coconut. At first it was like nothing had happened. His hands dropped away from Stella's neck and I could see this big dark stain in the middle of his dirty hair spreading outwards. Then blood started to ooze up out of the wound.

  I thought that was going to be enough, but Stella kicked him in the chest, hard. He fell back against the wall and dropped to the floor. He was making these weird noises, like somewhere between a burp and a choking sound. I yelled at Stella but she was gone. I mean her body was moving but she was nowhere to be found in her eyes. She was on top of the guy and in about a second, her knife was buried in his chin, all the way up to the hilt.

  We killed a man because he tried to kill us.

  We've watched people get killed because we didn't want to get killed.

  Sometimes I think we should be dead too.

  Friday, October 12

  I can't say I would have ever seen this coming, but we are now a trio. Her name is Fiona. We met her the other day along the road - she was digging through an old refrigerator. And for some reason Stella has decided that she should join up with us.

  Fiona has been going on about a safe community located not too far from here. Her story is that this group has taken over an old football stadium. They are using the field itself for growing crops and caring for a certain amount of animals. Families are living in the luxury boxes so everyone has their own spaces with doors that actually lock. They have regular guards and patrols that go around making sure the community is safe from outsiders and according to Fiona, when she left they were close to finishing a turbine that would allow them to have electricity.

  I think she's full of shit.

  Stella is completely taken with her - although I suspect her interests are beyond just information. The community she talks about sounds great. It's just too hard to trust anyone in times like these. It sounds too good to be true. Why would anyone ever leave a place like that? Stella won't hear it though. She's pretty much convinced that Fiona is the real deal. I'm going to keep a close eye out.

  Wednesday, October 17

  Fiona is sleeping in Stella's tent now. Didn't take long for that to happen. I hate thinking this way but I wonder if Fiona actually swings that way or if she's just playing an angle. At least the last night or two have been windy so I haven't had to listen to their racket. I get why Stella wants to believe her. We all have needs and it's even harder for her. What are the odds of finding anyone out here who isn't completely batshit crazy - let alone someone also having similar preferences? I just wish she would use better judgment since she's always on my case for not thinking things through.

  I got a "talking-to" from Fiona this morning. She said that she has "noticed" how I've been watching her and wanted me to remember that she's never going to be interested. What a bitch. I have been watching her but not for that reason. She's so full of herself. Fiona also thinks that Stella being on her own with me was asking for trouble. Like eventually I'd give into my desires and something bad would have happened if we hadn't run into Fiona who saved the day.

  So now I get to be the third wheel. Fiona is leading us around in circles acting like she isn't quite sure how to lead us back to the community. I think she knows exactly where she's leading us. Somewhere at the end of this trail there's going to be someone waiting for us. I just hope Stella isn't in this funk when it does go down because I need her help.

  Friday, October 19

  We found the perfect house. It's situated on a block with a city park so the only other building is an abandoned flower shop. The basement is completely finished and there aren't that many windows so we can easily block them up so that we can use lights without being seen at night. We dragged mattresses and box springs down from the upstairs. I took one room for myself and of course the other two took the other.

  It's weird to be sleeping in a room in a bed. It's cold down here and houses with no power have a weird feel to them. You never realize how much noise everything makes in your house until it all stops. The house becomes a vacuum for sound. Still, it's nice to be inside and in a bedroom, even if I do have to listen to the banging against the wall coming from the next room over. Little prices we pay I guess.

  Sunday, October 21

  Fiona has actually warmed up to me ever so slightly. Maybe all of the sex has put her in a better mood. That or she figures she's got us completely hooked at this point. We played cards tonight out in the rec room and managed to keep from fighting at all. All in all, not too bad of a night.

  It's been five years since my parents were killed and I've been with Stella ever since. I know that she has zero interest in men but I think she feels sorry for me. And when you get down to it sometimes you just need to be close to someone, regardless of other feelings you might have. She has let me have sex with her a few times, even though I know she hates it.

  I don't understand how I can need her so much and at the same time feel completely resentful of her presence in my life. It's hard to look at her sometimes and noStella is still sticking to her story that she is going to lead us to the stadium. The story is never quite the same each time she tells it but I'll give her credit, she does s
ell it. I'd be happy staying in this house and never leaving but I know that would never work. The house is providing an illusion of safety and protection but it also makes you uneasy. You know that you're living somewhere you don't belong. And even though we searched every inch of the place, you always feel another presence here, or the possibility of someone showing up out of the blue, ready to throw down to gain control of the house.

  I'm worried about Stella. She's starting to break down a little bit. Normally I would be the one to help bring her spirits back up. But now that Fiona is here, things are just more complicated. Fiona should be trying to support Stella but she keeps talking her ear off every chance she gets about ditching me and going off on their own.

  Stella is starting to get the dead stare, like there's nothing left on the inside to look out at us. I think that Fiona has noticed it as well because now out of the blue she's talking about heading out tomorrow. There's still a part of me that thinks that she has been intentionally trying to slow us down so that we'll walk right in to her ambush wherever it's set up for.

  I want to be able to walk out into that rec room, turn on the TV and get something other than static. I want to watch horrible monster movies on late night cable and eat Chinese food so greasy it coats the inside of your mouth. I guess what I have to settle for nowadays is a storage room inside a complete stranger's house with nothing to do but sit, wait and think.

  Monday, October 22

  Fiona is a lying bitch and I don't know if I can even find to words to describe how pissed I am at how much she has cost us. I was lagging behind the two of them when I started to hear shouting. When I ran ahead, I found the two of them at each other. Stella had just fallen to the ground and Fiona was standing over her with a rock held high. I yelled at her to stop and all she did was turn her dead eyes on me.

  When she pulled out a knife and started towards me, I dropped my pack and grabbed inside for our gun. When she realized what I was doing she started to run towards me but I managed to get it out and get a shot off. I'm just glad the safety wasn't on.

  The bullet didn't kill her but it was enough to knock her down and stop her. I had to finish the job with her knife. I didn't want to waste another bullet. She was crying and begging for me to let her go, that she would just leave and not bother us anymore. What a fucking actor. Besides, she would have probably just bled to death. I was doing her a favor. No more than she deserved

  I needed to get Stella up on her feet and moving. Who knows what kind of people were around that heard the shot? Sound seems to carry on forever these days, feeding off of newly empty spaces. We might as well have put up one of those search lights that car dealers used to get people's attention. I don't know if Fiona had a friend or friends that she was leading us to for an ambush but if she did, I hope they weren't following too close.

  Stella has been crying a lot tonight. I'm glad we're sleeping near a stream and it's raining so that people who might pass by won't be able to hear her as easily. It's strange looking out for her instead of the other way around. Five years ago, she was just the hot neighbor to my parents that I fantasized about sometimes.

  I don't know for sure where we go from here, after the great Fiona circle jerk we just endured. I guess there's still a chance of that stadium enclave existing out there somewhere. I guess we can try and find that.

  Jesus, I sound pathetic.

  Saturday, October 27

  Stella is dead.

  Monday, October 29

  I just buried her. She had been out looking for water when I heard her screaming for me to help her.

  I'm not fast enough.

  Wednesday, October 31

  Two men. That's all it took. They were trying to rape her. Stella was trying to fight back. I came around the bend just in time to see the knife being pushed into her chest. I remember her eyes finding mine and there was a microsecond of relief in there. Then realization that there wasn't anything I could do to help her. She cried a little. Then there was nothing.

  I don't remember exactly what happened next. I had taken a walking stick from the house we had been staying at with Fiona the bitch. The two guys must not have heard me coming up on them because the next thing I knew I was standing over both of their bodies. The walking stick was cracked in two and there was blood everywhere and all over me.

  Stella was gone. I carried her. I kept her safe.

  At least I could try and do one god dammed thing right.

  Monday, November 5

  I can't do this anymore. There isn't a single thing left for me in this entire worthless shit heap of a planet that this has turned in to. Nobody left. Nothing left for me.

  I've been spending days trying to decide how I should do it. What can I do? I'm not going to use the knife. I'd probably just end up hurting myself really badly and take days to die. I put the muzzle of the gun to my temple and no matter what I said to myself, I couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger. Nothing high enough to jump off of. Not enough rope. I'm not going to try starving myself to death - that would take way too long.

  I just need to wait for the right opportunity. The right opportunity to end all of this.

  I don't know why I'm still writing in this journal or who I'm writing to. If anyone is reading this, I hope things are better for you than they have been for us. I hope you can make sense of all of this because I sure as shit can't. If you are reading this now, way off into what I would consider the future, seeing my words and thoughts coming to you from your past ... I'm not sure what else to say.

  I bring you greetings.

  And goodbye.

  Sophie dropped the notebook to the ground and pressed her hands to her face, trying to contain the tears. She hadn't felt this since Rowen had been killed. This kid had done nothing to anyone. He couldn't have hurt them, even if he wanted to and if there was anything the journal made clear, it was that he wanted to die. As bad as the world had gotten, it shattered her to see someone so young giving up and going to such lengths to accomplish his own demise. It angered her to be manipulated into participating like this, and she felt like her right to choose had been stolen by this nameless corpse.

  At least she now knew what had happened to Fiona, although she wondered what could have possibly transpired following her expulsion to have caused her to stoop to such a low level. Clearly she had tried to take advantage of these two, and likely would have either killed them or done something to bring that about. She hated that she had once thought of Fiona as a friend and that despite everything, she still mourned her death. It was hard to not wonder what kind of chances Fiona had ultimately missed out on, with the collapse of society and how much she was just a victim of circumstances.

  If nothing else could be said, this kid had known what he wanted and in the end, did what was necessary. She had to respect him for that, at least.

  Lot would hate it, but she had already decided that they would bring the body back and give him a proper burial. He had come so close to finding them, he deserved at least that much. She could even build something for him, reminding people of where they had come from, and where they might be going. She felt a bond with the kid, saw him as a kindred spirit as so many of his words were spoken to her so intimately. She wanted everyone to read it.

  In a moment of inspiration, she reached down to open the journal again. She opened it to the last entry, turned to the next blank page and began to write.

  Postscript

  My name is Sophie. I don't know the name of the man who was keeping this journal but we wanted to save it in order to preserve his story as best we can.

  Our group was out on patrol when he came bursting out of the woods waving a gun at us. He didn't give us a chance to stop him and ignored our warnings. He was shot multiple times. I can only hope he died quickly.

  It wasn't until after that we discovered the gun wasn't loaded. We read his journal and it became clear what he had been trying and the role we played in his plan.

  So we brought his body
with us back to the stadium. He has been buried and a small monument has been erected in his honor. We're going to leave this journal at the grave so that people who come here can read his story.

  I can only hope that he will be able to speak to future generations. He's right in that we likely will never see substantive changes in our lifetimes but hopefully, maybe someday some kind of society can start to rebuild into something different, something better. My dream is that eventually, even if I'm not alive to see it, civilization will be able to take flight again on the back of the only thing that can make that even possible...

  ...on the wings of words.

  AFTERWORD

  Being a writer is something that has always been a dream for me. And while I certainly won't suggest that I need some kind of external accomplishment to think of myself in that way, being able to publish this book is a huge moment for me. It is not the first time that I have published my work, but it is my first novel, the first time I set out to not just start, but finish a story of this length and magnitude. I can only hope that you have enjoyed it as much as I have in the years it has taken, bringing it into full blossom.

  Becoming a published author and somewhat a part of this industry has led to the amazing experience of meeting so many talented authors who are of a quality that makes me constantly want to be better, to work harder. I wanted to take a moment and list some of them, those authors in particular who have been inspiring to me and have made me proud to consider myself a peer or a friend or even just an admirer of their work. If you haven't, I would encourage you to seek them out and lend them your support. Thank you guys, for everything you do.