by James Bierce
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” she cries. Not hearing any sign of them trying to break in, Sarah steps back and grabs a jacket hanging from a hook on the backside of the door. After putting it on over her wet shirt, she opens up the curtains on the window and sees a rusted set of metal bars covering the outside — and a small crowd of people walking across the tall grass in front of the cabin. After one of them makes eye contact with her, she closes the curtains again and backs up against the far wall, noticing another door right next to her — its handle smeared with what looks like dried blood. Still worried about possible contamination, she picks up a t-shirt from the floor and uses it to open the door. Inside what used to be a bathroom, she can barely make out the outline of someone sitting on the toilet, but she can also tell from the smell that they’ve been dead for quite some time. As her eyes adjust to the darkness, she sees what looks like a flashlight sitting on the corner of the vanity, and a small revolver sitting next to it. Surprisingly, the flashlight still turns on, and when it floods the room with the sickly yellow light, she can see the dried up blood splattered on the wall behind them, and the shotgun lying on the floor that apparently ended their life. Sarah reaches down and picks the shotgun up, trying not to touch any of the parts that have human remains on them, but to her dismay, the gun is completely empty, aside from the empty shell casing still inside of it. She turns around and checks the revolver too, and finds two bullets still loaded.
Turning around and facing the bathtub and shower, she sees a handwritten note lying on the floor in front of the body, the contents of which are barely decipherable through the blood. She takes both the revolver and the note back into the bedroom and searches the closet and nightstand for any other ammunition, but comes up with nothing. Exhausted, both physically and mentally, she finally sits down on the bed and listens to the person still breathing loudly on the other side of the door. She can hear others coming into the room behind them, stumbling over the numerous objects lying in the middle of the floor. Fighting the urge to sleep, she opens the note and starts reading it by the light of the flashlight.
To whom it may concern,
Everyone is dead, including my sweet Mary. I thought I had it too for a while, but my cough went away, and now I’m left with nothing. I want to be clear that I don’t blame her for what she became, and I hope she doesn’t blame me for what I did to her. Some things can never be forgiven though. We leave behind two children and six grandchildren, and I can only pray that they’ve found a safer place than we did.
If anyone reads this, please be careful out there. This sickness changes people somehow, it certainly did to my Mary. None of them can be trusted. Stay away from people, any of them — and whatever you do, don’t go anywhere near Westport.
I’m tired. And I’m sorry.
Samuel Ross
Sarah sits on the bed for a moment and stares at the blood-stained note, her mind momentarily distracted from the terrible position that she’s been placed in. For these past few months her family has been so focused on avoiding encounters with outsiders that they’ve somehow lost track of what the rest of the world must have gone through after the outbreak. Whoever this man was, and whatever the reason that he chose this ending, he obviously had a family and a life before the virus struck. All that’s left of him today though, is the small amount of information that he left in the note. The rest of his story, of who he is and what he did, has been lost forever.
Still contemplating the thought, she shuts the flashlight off and stares at the door to the living room for a moment, trying to focus again on how to get past the people on the other side of it and back to her family. Just as she starts to stand, determined not to give up, she hears a scraping noise coming from somewhere close. When she takes a step toward the locked door, she realizes that the noise isn’t coming from outside the room, but from inside the bathroom. She reaches for the flashlight that she left on the bed and turns it on again, shining it inside the cramped, bloody room once again, and seeing exactly the same gruesome scene as before. Then she hears the noise again, this time much more clearly, and she notices that the shower curtain is moving ever-so-slightly.
“Is someone in there?” she asks, gripping the revolver in her other hand.
She watches as the curtain slowly slides out of the way, at first revealing nothing but darkness — but then a hand appears on the edge of the tub, pulling itself into Sarah’s view. When she shines the light on them, she screams and nearly drops it, horrified at the sight. As they struggle to get out, Sarah drops the light onto the floor and quickly shuts the door again, wishing that it had a lock on this side. She sits down on the bed again, hearing the scratching sounds of fingernails against both doors and the window. She wants to break down and cry, or scream at the top of her lungs — but she knows that it won’t do her any good. She reaches over the side of the bed and picks up the flashlight from the floor, then switches it on and takes another close look around the room. The light is noticeably dimmer than before, no doubt from the batteries becoming weak, but on the second sweep of the room she notices something underneath a small dresser in the corner of the room — an area where the floorboards look different somehow.
Turning off the light once again, she pushes the dresser out of the way and begins to pull the carpet back from the wall — and then she hears the bathroom door start to creak loudly as it slowly opens up. She stands up again, aiming the revolver at the doorway, dreading what she knows is about to happen.
CHAPTER 15
GRAYLAND: DAY 5
Looking down at the staircase, which is covered with the remains of Amanda’s victims, Beth sits and waits impatiently as Larry tries to console Christine after the death of her father. She wants to comfort her as well, and part of her feels guilty for not doing so, but the only thing that stands in the way of her being reunited with Jake is the young girl’s heartbreak — and no matter how hard she tries to feel sorry for Christine, there’s an overwhelming temptation to simply leave her behind and forget that she ever existed.
“She wants to bury him,” Larry says quietly, squatting down beside Beth.
“Larry, we don’t have time…”
“It’s her father, Beth. We can’t just leave him like this…”
She shakes her head and glances over at Christine, who is still sitting next to George. “How long will it take?”
“We’ll bury him in the dunes, it shouldn’t take very long.”
“It’s none of our business,” she responds coldly, staring down the steps once again.
Larry leans in closer to his sister, his mouth right next to her ear, his low whisper full of anger. “Listen, I never argued with you when you made the decision to leave the cabin, to save Amanda of all people, who is a fucking murderer in case you’ve forgotten. The only reason we’re here instead of back in Cohassett is because of you, don’t forget that.”
“You don’t have to remind me, I’m well aware of that,” Beth responds, her eyes welling up with tears as her frustration builds.
Larry sits down next to her, disgusted at the scene in front of them. He knew Amanda had killed the men, but he had no idea how brutal their deaths were until this moment. Although it seemed to happen in a flash, the girl still managed to slice into each of them multiple times, leaving blood on almost every square inch of the wooden steps. “I don’t know if we can make it to the cabin in one day without a car, not if we get such a late start.”
“Maybe we should keep looking for a car. There has to be something in town that runs.”
“I don’t think it’s worth it — somebody spent a lot of time and effort to make sure that nobody left town.”
Beth looks up at Larry and sees the concern on his face. “Well, I’m sure we’ll find somewhere to stay along the way if it gets dark. Besides, with the highway as messed up as it is we’ll probably make better time on foot anyway.”
“Amanda will follow us, you know she will…”
“I know.”
“…and sh
e’s gonna try to kill us.”
“I know, Larry.”
Through the gentle mist of showers slowly soaking the area, Larry looks out at the beach in front of him, and notices how peaceful and undisturbed everything here looks. There’s no unusual debris washed up on the sand, and no infected people wandering around the dunes like they do up north — in fact they haven’t seen a single sign of anybody all morning. The other towns they’ve been to in the past have seemed deserted as well when they first arrive, but they’ve learned the hard way not to trust any first impressions.
Grayland, however, is different.
The other towns didn’t really seem empty, they appeared dead. Littered with trash and scattered bones, they looked like a wasteland even before you realized the buildings were actually full of madmen and murderers. Grayland, however, doesn’t look like that at all. It looks as though everyone simply walked away and left it, even leaving their cars behind.
He looks down at Christine, who is sitting next to George’s newly covered grave, and places his hand gently on her head. “Are you ready?”
Christine stands up, still looking at the loose sand over her father. “Won’t this wash away when the first storm comes in?”
“No, it’ll be fine,” Larry says, hoping the girl isn’t aware that he’s lying. He checks his watch and sees that it’s a little past noon, then he turns and faces Beth, who’s remained quiet but respectful through the makeshift ceremony. “Did you still want to head north? We could always stay another night.”
“No, I don’t wanna stay here another night. They’ll be looking for us if we stay much longer.”
“Maybe we could wait until the rain stops,” Christine suggests, drawing a look of contempt from Beth.
“Come on,” Larry says to her softly after Beth walks away. “We’re on the coast. If we wait until the rain stops we’ll never get there.”
Having already gathered the bags of important supplies in the church, the three of them begin walking toward the highway, past the burning remains of their car and the rest of their belongings. Christine looks back at the beach, taking note of a large spruce tree that’s growing near her father’s final resting place — then she sees a brief glimpse of movement behind it.
“I think there’s something back there.”
“Where?” Larry asks.
“Where we just came from.”
“Something or someone?”
“I just saw a shadow moving. Do you think it’s the girl that got away?”
“Probably.” Larry answers, not bothering to look back.
“Are you gonna try to get her back?”
“No, we’re not.”
“What if she wants back?”
“We kill her,” Beth answers, surprising Larry.
Christine opens her mouth to respond, but when she feels the obvious tension in the air between her two new companions, she decides to keep quiet instead. Looking back again, she sees a faint shadow moving through the dunes, then sees it appear on the road behind them.
About a half-mile further, where the highway turns inland slightly and away from the ocean, they come across an older mobile home park that looks as though it was well-maintained at one time. Windswept pine trees tower overhead, shading much of the community from what little sunlight exists on the coast — and dead branches from one of the winter windstorms cover parts of the asphalt drive and rooftops. The parking spaces appear to be mostly full, the same as the rest of Grayland. The driveway, like everything else in the area, is covered in a thick layer of sand — and right behind the park is a large bog that Larry says looks like an overgrown cranberry field. He spots a piece of paper attached to nearly every door, then stops walking right in the middle of the road.
“What is it?” asks Beth.
“Those look like notices.”
“Probably something from before the virus.”
“They would’ve blown off by now, wouldn’t you think?”
“Larry, it’s already getting late…”
“I know, but it’ll just take a minute.”
He turns and walks down the driveway, heading to the first door in the park. Stapled beside the entrance is a letter-sized, laminated piece of paper that looks weathered and slightly crumpled, but otherwise seems to be in one piece.
“What does it say?” Beth asks, watching Larry rip the paper from the wall.
Larry reads it to himself for a minute, then begins reading.
Attention, residents of Grayland, the town has hereby been ordered to evacuate by the Sheriff’s Department and the city council.
All residents are urged to proceed to South Bend, where a shelter has been setup to provide housing and food. Any belongings you wish to leave behind can be left at the fire station on the north end of town next to the Gentle Breeze Estates, where they’ll be safely locked up and guarded throughout the event.
Violators of the evacuation will be arrested and dealt with accordingly.
Sheriff Nelson Daniels
“What’s with all the cars then?” Beth asks. “And where the hell is Gentle Breeze Estates?”
“I think we’re looking at it,” Larry says, handing the piece of paper to Beth.
Beth looks around at the two-dozen or so decrepit trailers, then sees a block building on the north side of the property. “Estates, huh? Even as messed up as everything is right now, this place still doesn’t look like an estate.”
“South Bend is gone,” Christine says softly.
“Gone? Your dad said it was on fire…” says Larry.
“We saw it from across the bay. It wasn’t just on fire, it was destroyed.”
“The entire town?” Beth asks doubtfully.
“It looked like it. We walked through a few days of smoke before we saw it.”
“We still don’t know whether anybody made it there,” Larry says.
“If they did leave, this could be the first town that we’ve come across that really is empty…” Beth says, looking at Larry.
Larry walks back up onto the porch of the trailer and looks inside, seeing items scattered around the floor and half-empty closets, as if someone had left in a hurry. “Well, it wasn’t empty yesterday. Those men that Amanda killed came from somewhere, and only one of them followed George and Christine into town.”
“Okay, maybe it’s not completely empty, but it’s probably as close as we’re going to get.”
“You wanna stay here after we get Jake?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
Larry steps off of the porch again and takes a look around the area. Some of the houses are surrounded by gardens and fruit trees, and the beach is only minutes away, full of clams, muscles, and fish. They’ve seen dozens of towns along the shores of Hood Canal and the Straight, and none of them looked as isolated and promising as this one. “It’s probably not the worst spot, I’ll give you that.”
“And we won’t be too far from the Lockwoods. We could even start clearing the highway between here and there.”
Larry begins to walk again, but instead of heading back to the highway, he heads straight north toward the block building.
“Larry, we need to get to the cabin before the sun goes down.”
“It’ll only take a minute, and it’s on our way.”
As they approach the building, which turns out to be the fire station, with its dark windows and mostly empty parking lot, Larry looks through the clear garage doors and sees nothing but some buckets and a few cardboard boxes stacked in one corner. The building itself looks almost new, with white concrete block walls and a red-colored metal roof with solar panels attached to it. On the north side of the building, facing the highway, the main entrance door can be seen propped open.
“Isn’t it odd that the notice doesn’t have a date on it?” Beth asks, still holding the evacuation order in her hand.
“Yeah, maybe. I’m sure there were other things on his mind at the time.”
Larry walks up to the edge of th
e doorway and sticks his head in to look around, careful not to cross the threshold. Although the lobby of the department is dark, he can clearly see a scene of chaos inside, with blood smeared all over the walls and what looks like human bones spread across the tiled floor.
“This doesn’t exactly look promising…” Larry says as he carefully steps inside, his shoes almost slipping on the thin layer of sand blown in through the open door.
Beth steps through next, followed by an obviously reluctant Christine. Beth walks over to one of the walls and looks carefully at the blood, relieved to see that it looks old and dried up. “This place reminds me of that police station in Dungeness.”
Spotting some crumpled up clothes in the corner of the room, Larry picks up a pair of pants out of the mess and discovers that they still have a gun and holster attached to the belt. The rest of the pants are ripped and tattered.
“Did people do that?” Christine asks, standing just inside the entrance.
“It was probably animals — maybe coyotes or raccoons.”
“Is that what killed them?”
“No, I’m sure they were already dead.”
“From what?”
Larry looks around at the blood-stained hand prints on the wall, then down at the floor, where the faint imprints of bare feet can be seen in the sand. “I don’t know, but I think someone has been here recently.”
“There’s another note on the door over there.” Beth says, as she carefully avoids stepping on any bones or blood stains as she crosses the room and takes the note off of the door on the far side of the lobby.
“What does it say?”
“It says to leave town before it’s too late.”
“Another notice from the Sheriff?”
“No, I don’t think so. This one is hand written.”
Beth glances behind the desk and sees another large cluster of bones piled up, but then her eyes spot something else on the floor — a drag mark in the dust and sand that’s just barely visible, leading from behind the desk to underneath the same door that the note was attached to. “Larry, you might want to see this…”