Dead Woman's Journal

by Ann Christy

  But Doris died.

  And then she un-died.

  I had to put the pen down and walk around for a bit. I wasn’t sure I could write this part and I’m sitting here with the pen in my hand and wondering if I can do it even now. I’m tempted to go on and write about other things. Even this sentence is a moment of wasted time to avoid it.

  But I have to. It’s the only way I can let anyone know. This is the only form of obituary we have now.

  The morning after my last entry…which would be day 22 of this ordeal…we didn’t have that many come out of the woods. There are fences along the back of our properties, which separate us from the woods, and a further mowed area beyond the fences that’s part of our little development. We call it the dog run, but it’s really a swath of field grasses kept mowed in the summer to prevent the trees from spreading into the clear space.

  There’s a long, shallow depression along the middle that acts as a water channel, a sort of swale. It’s kept clear because of the environmental rules. Or it was. Now, the grasses are getting tall and soon, the vines from the woods will encroach. That’s where the monsters always go when they come out of the trees.

  Sometimes, the monsters wander around in that field or go back into the trees. Other times, they don’t. If they get interested in our houses, they approach the fences and that’s bad. So far, we haven’t seen them climb fences, but if they see anyone, they start screaming. Of course, that sound draws more monsters. So, we needed to get better at keeping that area clear and we’d concocted a plan.

  All in all, there were only two monsters, which is doable. We all agreed that the first attempt at clearing them away with silent weapons needed to be timed for when there weren’t so many. Fred was on watch in the house chosen for the shooting room and I was on radio watch, which simply means that I was the one with the other half of his walkie-talkie set. My job was to listen for anything unusual he might report and then wake the others if necessary.

  I was drinking coffee and silently counting how many more cups I might have in my pantry. Mostly, I was trying to stay awake. Aside from his check in at the start of watch, Fred hadn’t buzzed me, so I jerked like a ninny when the call noise blared through. After looking through the window to see what I could see, I hurried over to wake up Linda, his wife.

  We have something like a phone tree going on over here, only without phones. The person with the radio wakes up the first house, then both of those people go and wake up the other houses. It works, but it does mean that we’re all running around at the same time in the street.

  We should have thought that through more carefully.

  Let me explain that, because it might not make sense unless you know what we were thinking in the first place. Since you’re here, you already know that our development is like an odd shaped oblong. The far end—the end furthest from me—borders the marshy area near the river. The lots there are long, and somewhat narrow. They can’t touch anything on their properties beyond a certain point, because of the river protection rules and the muddy marshes.

  Our end of the development backs up against the forest. Between those two edges, to the north is the road, which you probably came down to get here. Of course, that runs about a half-mile through the forest and then joins up with the old highway. If you did come down that road, then you likely saw the cars barricading it and all the junk we piled around it. To the south-east is a service road that leads to the old river cargo-loading operation that was part of the original plantation. It’s now an historical site that isn’t open to the public because it’s not safe. Much further south, though you can’t see it from here, the two rivers join up.

  Nothing is built south of our development because the forest is mushy and unstable, filled with swampy areas and marsh. Plus, it’s a protected area. Believe it or not, the Great Dismal Swamp starts not too far away, or at least the outer edges of it. Like I said, it’s swampy around here and I wasn’t joking.

  Because there’s a fence on the service road leading to the old cargo station, and the mud by the river means no one is getting through that way, we’ve been focused on the accesses north of our properties. That’s the way to civilization…or what was civilization. It’s also where we only have our little fences—meant more for show than protection—between our homes, the dog run, and the woods. With the river curving around us on one side and the road blocked, we seemed self-contained.

  It was the service road that got us. We know this now. Yes, it’s fenced, but the entire property isn’t. We didn’t know that. It turns out there’s a meandering route through the forest, but it is a route. And three of those monsters made it through.

  Given that it wasn’t quite dawn, the whole neighborhood was quiet and quite gray. We’ve instituted a kind of quiet policy, meaning we’re silent when the world outside is quiet, so I didn’t run out and bang on Linda’s door or anything like that. Knocking is incredibly loud, you know. Doorbells carry as well. No, I simply tugged the string coming through a small gap in Fred and Linda’s bedroom window. There’s a little can with some beans in it next to their bed.

  No, that’s not stupid. We all have them. It works amazingly well. And it makes zero noise outside the house. Maybe that should be my helpful tip of the day.

  Anyway, Linda waved from the window a few seconds later. I held up two fingers and pointed to the forest. She knew what that meant. I went on to Gerald and Susan’s when Linda appeared at her door. Linda went for Doris and Marcy. After that, she would head for Paul and Martin’s house. I was out of view, tugging the string for Gerald and Susan, but I heard what happened.

  Even as Gerald waved from the window, I heard a scream. It was unmistakable and not even remotely human, a sound so full of rage and hunger that my hair stood on end. I could actually feel it, a tiny painful crawl along my scalp. A strangled and human scream responded, a female one. Gerald jerked, then disappeared as he ran for the door. I stood frozen for a second, some part of my mind trying to figure out which direction it came from.

  I think I knew. My brain didn’t want to accept that it wasn’t coming from the field, but somewhere much closer. I had a machete, because I’d left the house knowing we were going to take on the field monsters, but that’s it. That and my legs, anyway.

  Without waiting for Gerald, I took off in the direction of the noise. I thought it would be Linda, but it wasn’t only Linda. Doris must have already been awake, because she was beating on the head of a tiny monster, while Linda tried to shake the one-time-child from her leg. Marcy was still in her pajamas, standing at the door with her mouth hanging open, clearly in shock.

  I heard more screams, but it was the noise of the child monster and Linda’s pained squeals that took all my attention. We’d not seen a child like this before. How are we supposed to react to that? Our instincts are to protect the young, not smash their heads. How did a small child wearing shorts and a unicorn t-shirt become a monster in the first place?

  Doris was going for it, despite the monster’s appearance. The frantic movements weren’t making it easy to make contact using the hammer, and me giving a kick would be impossible. The kid was wrapped around Linda’s leg like a monkey, her head shaking back and forth like a dog with a toy as she gnawed at Linda’s bare leg. The movements were so abrupt, so savage. The monster was a little girl at one time, no more than five years old, if I judged by general size.

  Why, oh why, was Linda wearing shorts? It was like offering a great big ham to a starving animal. It’s weird the thoughts that go through our heads at times like that.

  One of Doris’s hammer swings went wild and got Linda, and her squeal ratcheted up in pain. Tossing down the hammer, Doris shouted for me to help her pull as I ran up. So, that’s what we did. Doris grabbed the kid’s legs and I started prying off her arms. She was so very strong. It didn’t seem possible for a person so small to hold on that tightly. Eventually, I switched one handhold to the cascade of bright blonde hair gone matted with leaves and dirt, then ya
nked hard on her head.

  The blood running down Linda’s leg must have made the girl monster’s grip loosen, because she popped off finally, leaving us holding her in the air. She was thrashing around like I’ve never seen a human move. It was so incredibly rapid and violent. It’s hard to describe, but it was inhuman. Before I could even figure out how to grab my machete without turning her loose, her head turned in my hand. She darted for my arm and bit down.

  Let me tell you, it was excruciating. The pain of it was immediate and very intense. Being bitten is horrifying, because it’s not just a bite. It’s someone trying to bite flesh away, human teeth trying to gnaw through a tough roast. And her teeth were very sharp. Later, I saw them and understood. Many of her tiny baby teeth were broken into shards. I have no idea why that happens, but we’re seeing it more and more. Those broken triangles and jagged edges are what hurt so badly.

  At that moment, I tried to shake her off, but she had a grip and she wasn’t letting go. She wrapped her whole body around my arm! Doris picked up her hammer and smashed it down into that girl’s head so hard, the metal hammer head sunk into her skull. She jerked, then went still, then her mouth loosened.

  When she dropped, I thought it was over, but her eyes were moving and that strange, jerky seizure starting already. This one would get back up. We’d seen this before. As hard as it was to believe, this monster would get back up in no more than a few minutes.

  It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done to stomp on that pretty, one-time-child’s head.

  Alas, it wasn’t over yet. She wasn’t our only visitor. More screams were coming from the area of Paul and Martin’s place. I saw Gerald and Susan dash past us, but I didn’t really comprehend it at that moment because I was busy being bitten. The flash of pale skin that came out from between two houses and straight for us made me understand in a hot second once I was free of the child-monster.

  The monsters were coming from the wrong direction, the direction of the service road. Gunfire behind us told us that Fred was doing his best in the field. No doubt, the noises and screams were drawing the ones in the field right to us and our flimsy fences, plus more from the woods.

  We were being inundated and it was bad.

  Perhaps we should have run to our houses, locked the doors, and stayed silent. Probably we should have. That’s not what happens when you’re at ground level in the thick of it. Instead, the urge to fight and defend is strong. The calculus of survival is dominant.

  And we didn’t have time.

  The one heading for us was an adult, a tall man gone gaunt with hunger, but moving fast. Blackened blood covered his chest. Deep depressions from missing flesh pocked his arms, neck, and torso. Behind me, I heard a door slam. I knew it was Marcy, closing the door on what she couldn’t handle. Linda had fallen to the ground, crying out and trying to staunch the flow of blood on her thigh.

  I kicked at the gaunt monster, but it was a bad kick, my balance off along with my mental equilibrium. I almost fell onto my butt. Doris finally freed her hammer from the child and tried to get in a hit while I stumbled back. It was the wrong move. The monster moved so quickly it was almost a blur. I can never un-see what I saw, but I wish I could. He swept her up in his arms and went for her neck. The way he bit her wasn’t just violent, it was fast and utterly without reason.

  Perhaps I should have kicked straight in, even with Doris in the way. Only in retrospect is that the better option. At that moment, I wanted to save her. I got him down, with help from a badly limping Linda, but it was too late for Doris. Far too late. Linda stayed with her, trying to comfort and help her as much as she could, while I ran for the sounds being made by Paul and Martin.

  Gunfire had erupted from that direction too, so I knew the situation had gone even further south in the poop direction. One last, loud pop sounded out while I ran around their house to the backyard. It was pretty much over. Both of them were bit, but the last of the monsters was down. Paul was doing a bang-up job smashing a monster’s head into paste with a broken cinder block. From behind us, where Fred was, the rifle shots began to taper off.

  We had won, but the cost was high.

  Doris was gone by the time the rest of us returned. Marcy was still inside the house, crumpled into a ball of panic. I couldn’t even pry her arms away from her legs and eventually, I left her there to help tend those who were injured.

  And except for Fred and Marcy, we are all injured. Doris seemed peaceful when I got there, but Linda was draped over her and crying up a storm. It was Doris’s feet twitching that signaled what would come. Martin ran over to tell Fred what had happened, and also keep watch so that Fred could come down and tend his wife, but he hadn’t arrived yet. Gerald and I saw those twitching feet, and he yanked Linda back like she was a doll. It was just in time. Doris’s eyes opened, her lips pulling back from her teeth like a rabid dog ready to attack. Paul didn’t wait. He pointed the gun at her forehead and pulled the trigger three times.

  On the third, she stilled.

  It’s dark now, that terrible day two days in the past, the night still and quiet. My soul isn’t nearly so silent. I can’t comprehend the change. Doris here, Doris gone. So quickly did it all change.

  Now we’ve seen the truth with our own eyes. Doris came back. She had nanites and she came back. I know everyone else is trying to figure out if they have the ones in their bodies that caused it to happen. I know they’re all scared. I am too.

  My arm is still throbbing. I’m missing flesh, but only a small bit. The evidence of teeth, those tiny indentations at the edges, are the worst to look at. It was red and puffy for a day, but that’s finally fading some. I’m sure that’s my nanites working against inflammation. Not all the others are so lucky.

  Linda’s leg is badly inflamed and this morning, there was pus seeping out of the puffy, swollen wound. Not much, but enough to convey that what’s happening inside her body isn’t good. We’ve scavenged the houses again, looking for any antibiotics at all.

  All we found were some fish antibiotics in a cabinet under a large tank. People use nanites for many infections now. A quick shot at the doctor and a billion tiny machines will go to work eating the offending bacterial cells. The days of leftover bottles of antibiotics are gone, which is bad now that we need them. We gave her the fish antibiotics, but who knows if they’ll work or if they’re even the right kind.

  Paul and Martin have wounds gone puffy and red too, but nothing like Linda. I think they’ll heal. Gerald and Susan both have wounds on their hands, and I think Susan might lose her finger. The bone is broken clean through. It might heal better if we take it off. She was wearing heavy work gloves, so the monster clamped down on it rather than flesh. It’s not an open wound though, so there’s that. I can’t approach the subject of removing it. Not yet. Limb removal is a sensitive topic with me, for obvious reasons.

  Marcy was unbitten, but the wounds in her mind and heart might be the worst of all. She doesn’t seem to be here with us anymore. Not really. I brought her here, to my house. She spends almost the entire day gazing out of the window, her expression blank and her hands folded in her lap. She doesn’t seem to see the world beyond the glass at all, even though her eyes rarely leave it.

  She answers me when I call her name, but only so much. Almost right away her eyes unfocus and her gaze drifts back to the window. She only eats when I put food in front of her and slip a fork or spoon into her hand, reinforcing what I mean by actually telling her to eat.

  We’re down to four houses now. Gerald and Susan, Paul and Martin, Fred and Linda…and me, with Marcy as my new roommate. That’s all we have left. Just eight people.

  Our world is growing smaller by the day.

  Helpful Tip: Keep a watch on that service road. Don’t forget that danger can come from any direction.

  Helpful Tip #2: We also lost water on day 22, so I’ve hooked up a hose to my well and run it to the deck. Boil it first. We shut off all the water from the street by closing th
e valves, then cleared all the pipes. The water was stinky and strange looking, so we thought it best not to leave it sitting in our pipes to grow more nastiness. Our water was partially gravity fed and the system of pumps probably finally stopped working. Fred thinks it’s been without treatment since the beginning. He also thinks the hot weather and lack of rain made the level get too low and an algae bloom happen.

  Day 25 - Morning

  I just got back from checking on Linda. Since I’m closest to their house, I volunteered to change her bandages. Fred is more than capable, but it’s killing him to hurt her like that. And changing her bandages hurts a lot. Last night, I noticed her face was flushed and blotchy. It turns out she’s running a pretty high fever and we don’t need a doctor to understand what that means. She’s internalizing the infection.

  Luckily, enough people have squirreled away various pain medications that we can afford to give her the good stuff. Thank goodness for herniated discs and strained joints. And thank goodness those sketchy addicts didn’t manage to break into more houses. I felt like I was out of my league during the last bandage change, so I went to get Martin. He has some medical texts on his various drives, and he suggested we try removing all the infected flesh. I was horrified, but even more horrified when I realized what he meant.

  We gave her a double dose of hydrocodone, enough so that she was snoring, then used a clean scrubber on her wound. Even the drugs weren’t enough for that and she bolted upright with a scream of pain. We should have done it the day the bite happened, because I think it’s far too late for that.

  Anyway, we got it done and a new bandage began darkening with seeping blood before I got out the door. Blood is better than pus, but we’ll see.

  Day 25 - Late Night

  I’m getting worried about Marcy. Or rather, I’m getting more worried than I already was. When I sat down next to her at the window to eat my meal—and try to get her to eat—I told her I would be taking a turn sitting with Linda later in the evening. Fred won’t sleep, or maybe he can’t, so I volunteered to sit with her for a few hours. With someone there, he could give sleep another try.