Dying Days: Origins

by Armand Rosamilia

  “That’s a big ‘if’ considering this mess. Sorry about what happened back there. I don’t usually lose my shit like that.”

  “Hey, if you are ever going to lose your shit, today would be a good day to do it. Glad you’re feeling better, though. Let’s go see what we can find.”

  * * * * *

  Eric and Jessa moved to the furthest walkway in the arena. Sure enough, there was a door on each side of the tunnel. Eric grabbed the doorknob on the left, but it refused to budge. Locked. He examined the door and its frame while Jessa tried the right door. It, of course, opened right up.

  “I’m in,” she said.

  “Good. Because this is all metal over here. I don’t know if I can kick it in or not. Maybe if I had something that would give me some leverage, like a crowbar, I could force it.”

  They walked inside the room. Jessa flicked on the lights and groaned in disappointment. It was a decent sized room, loaded with....bathroom supplies. Toilet paper, paper towels, gallon jugs of liquid soap and cleaning products lined the shelves along the walls of the room.

  “Wonderful. If those things come back, we can wipe their asses to death,” Eric quipped.

  Jessa, taken by surprise, barked out a quick laugh before she slammed her hand over her mouth to stifle it, a look of horror filling her eyes. “Oh, my God. I shouldn’t be laughing at a time like this. People just died out there. I still don’t know what happened to my friend Paula, if she got out or was killed and dragged out by those things.” Tears started to fill her green eyes.

  Eric put a hand on each of Jessa’s arms and rubbed them comfortingly. “It’s okay, Jessie. People laugh at inappropriate times a lot. Some bullshit about reaffirming life or something. I can’t remember the specifics, but I read that somewhere. Or maybe I saw it on the Discovery Channel?” He pulled Jessa into his arms for a supportive hug and was surprised by the primal need the feeling her body pressed into his caused within him.

  Jessa pulled away, wiped her eyes and began to search the room. “Yeah, I’ve heard that. Same with sex. People have sex all the time after funerals and stuff to remind themselves they are still alive,” Jessa said absently, walking along the shelves looking for anything that could be useful.

  “Is that right?” Eric asked, looking her up and down, grinning wickedly. “Sex?”

  Jessa, realizing that she was talking about sex with a strange man, blushed bright pink.

  “Oh, shut up! You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah,” Eric questioned, bumping up against her with his shoulder.

  “Yeah,” she responded toughly, bumping him back. “And quit calling me Jessie,” she added, good-naturedly this time.

  Then they heard the gunshot.

  * * * * *

  “Oh, my God! That crazy fucking bastard shot Clarence. Shot him right between the eyes like he was some kid of animal. I’m going to rip out your insides and shove them back up your ass! Do you understand me? I will kill you!”

  When Jessa and Eric finally arrived at the scene of the uproar, some people were screaming, some were weeping quietly, but most were just milling around as if having found themselves suddenly dropped onto an alien planet. A well-dressed, African American man was sitting on the floor, cradling another man in his arms gently. He rocked back and forth in his grief. The man he was holding had a perfect hole in his forehead like a third eye.

  The Colonel, as Eric had come to think of Rais, was standing by with a pistol held loosely in his hand.

  Eric turned to the nearest person, an attractive, short haired, blonde woman who appeared to be the mother of the group’s only two children, and whispered, “What the hell happened here?”

  She turned her back to the group and whispered back, “That Army guy, he just shot him. They found a room where the vending machine supplies were kept, and supposedly, the dead guy was trying to stash food where the group couldn’t find it. Under the seats and stuff. So, he shot him.”

  Tears filled her brown eyes as she spoke and by the time she had finished her explanation, they had overflowed and spilled down her cheeks. Streaks of black mascara traced the tears making her look slightly clownish.

  “Fuck!” Eric said to Jessa under his breath. “Now we don’t just have zombies to worry about. There is a lunatic control freak trapped in here with us. God damn it! Could things get any worse?”

  The couple headed off across the building trying to put as much space between them and the dead man as they could. The blonde woman followed them, along with her two kids, one the teenage boy that Eric had noticed earlier and the other a girl that seemed to be about ten. The girl was sobbing while her brother tried to comfort her, patting her back and murmuring soothing words in her ear.

  * * * * *

  After everybody got settled in after the shooting, the survivors who had once been one large group, ended up separated into two different factions: one led by the Colonel and one that, for some reason he could not begin to fathom, had rallied around Eric as their apparent leader elect, a distinction he neither liked, nor wanted.

  Rounding out Eric’s group was Jessa, the short-haired blond, Mindy, her two children, and Anthony, who turned out to be the brother of the man that was shot by the Colonel. The final person to join their group was practically a Vin Diesel clone, at least in the physique department. His name was Noble and Eric hoped that he was as much of a bad ass as he looked. Eric thought having the two children in their group put them at a disadvantage, if push came to shove between the two groups.

  The Colonel’s group consisted of himself; David of ‘I’ve got to go’ fame; Shannon, a woman who was just slightly on the wrong side of middle-age; and two teenaged lovebirds, Tilynn, the girlfriend and her boyfriend, Travis. Both were covered in acne, piercings, bad tattoos, and fuck the world attitudes that made Eric want to squish them like grapes. But, they both looked healthy and able-bodied. And, of course, they had youth on their sides.

  Eric sat evaluating the two groups. Sure, he had more people, but two were kids. That Mason kid might be able to come through in a pinch if someone he loved were threatened, but the little girl was definitely a liability. Eric thought the mother would fight to the death to protect her children, so she might be a hellcat in battle. If it came to that. Eric hoped it wouldn’t. Jessa was obviously a fighter and Noble turned out to be ex-special forces, though that was all the information that he would give them. Wouldn’t even tell them what branch of the armed services he had worked for, which made Eric uneasy. He didn’t know whether he should find that comforting or frightening. Rounding out the group was Anthony, but he was so traumatized from seeing his brother murdered before his eyes; he hadn’t spoken or even moved after sitting himself down with their group.

  So, the numbers appeared to be on Eric’s side until you considered one, little, but very important fact: the Colonel had a gun. Why did somebody bring a gun to an antique show? On second thought, what was an ex-special forces guy doing at an antique show by himself? Everybody else seemed to have been with someone. Someone they had either lost to the zombies or just lost track of and didn’t know whether they escaped or were killed.

  The two groups watched each other over the expanse of the arena, murmuring quietly amongst themselves. Eric surveyed them one last time and finally spoke.

  “We need to continue to look for supplies and weapons. Eventually, we are going to have to leave the safety of the arena. We have to prepare ourselves for that.”

  “But the room with the vending supplies is on their side of the building. I doubt they are in a sharing mood right now,” Mindy said from the edge of their group where she was still trying to get her daughter, Marissa, to quit crying.

  “Then we take it. We have just as much right to it as they do.” This came from Noble, the Special Forces guy. He had a distinct northern accent, maybe Minnesota or North Dakota. Definitely not from Des Moines, Iowa, thought Eric. He filed the factoid away to examine more closely later, if needed.

  “Le
t’s not get ahead of ourselves. Just because we are sitting at separate ends of the building doesn’t mean that we are enemies,” stated Eric.

  “The hell it doesn’t. He shot my brother! I think we are over here because we think that is wrong. They are over there either because they don’t, or they just want to be on the side with the gun,” Anthony retorted. Tears streamed down his handsome black face. “That definitely puts us at totally different ends of the moral spectrum, I think. And it scares the hell out of me. If it doesn’t scare any of you, you all are naive. Or just plain stupid.”

  * * * * *

  A conversation was also going on at the opposite side of the building. “Fuck them!” the teenaged Travis exclaimed. “Everybody saw that he was hoarding food. His brother was probably in on it as well. Should have shot him, too. Those blacks...you just can’t trust them. They only care about themselves.” His pimple covered face was almost purple with fury. Tilynn, his purple-haired girlfriend, nodded in agreement so vigorously that she resembled a bobble-head.

  “That’s enough of that kind of talk,” the Colonel said quietly. “I will not tolerate racism over here. The fact that he was stealing has nothing to do with the color of his skin. If you continue with this bigotry, I will not hesitate to open those doors and toss you out on your asses so fast that you’ll be zombie shit before you even know you’re dead. You got that, Travis? You too, girlie,” he finished, glaring at Tilynn.

  The Colonel had spoken this threat so calmly Travis didn’t doubt for a second that he meant every word. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. He walked over to Tilynn, grabbed her arm and walked her slightly away from the group, wanting to put a little distance between them and the man he just figured out might be insane.

  “Listen up, people,” the Colonel addressed the group. “This is how this is going to go. We have the food and water; at least, we have it located on our side of the building at this time. I intend to keep it here. Therefore, we will need at least one guard on that room at all times. I will take the first watch. Keeping that food is our number one priority. Secondly, better weapons. Maybe they keep some of the grounds maintenance items in one of these storage rooms. That could provide us with pruning shears, shovels, weed eaters, maybe even a chain saw, if we’re lucky. All things that could be useful if the security of this arena is compromised. And finally, we don’t know what the hell is going on the other side of those doors. We have electricity for now, but if this situation is more widespread than The Arena, and I fully believe that it is, we might not have it for long. Look for generators, gasoline and flashlights. If we lose power, it is going to get very, very dark in here, and you cannot effectively fight what you cannot see.”

  “Who exactly are we guarding the food from?” the older woman asked, nervously, as she stood up. “We aren’t going to make them” nodding her head in the general direction of Eric’s group, “go hungry, are we? Because, that just isn’t right. They didn’t do anything to us.”

  The Colonel regarded her coolly. “I’m sorry. What is your name?”

  “Shannon,” she answered.

  “Shannon.” He repeated. “Well, Shannon, do you want to starve to death waiting for help to come and free us from this room? Those people are harboring a traitor. That man was just as guilty as his brother for stealing the food they found by keeping his mouth shut and letting him do it. Now, if somebody has to go without, do you think it should be him....or you?”

  “Him. Them,” she answered meekly and sat back down.

  “Let me make this clear, people.” The Colonel was pacing in front of them now. “Make no mistake about it. This is a war. A war against two enemies. The people across the floor and the monsters outside the walls. Don’t ever forget it.”

  * * * * *

  Eric and Jessa sat on the floor apart from their group, heads together, talking.

  “We should get started looking for things we can use,” Eric told her.

  “I know. I kind of don’t want to move from this spot though,” Jessa replied.

  “Why, Miss James, are you flirting with me? I must be twice your age,” Eric stated.

  “Maybe. What if I was? And you aren’t exactly ancient, Eric,” she said laughing.

  “Oh, yeah? Wait until you see me try to get up from this floor. I hope you have an hour or so to spare.”

  “What else do we have,” Jessa asked a little wistfully, “except time?” She jumped up easily from the floor and offered Eric her hand. “Come on, old man. I’ll help you up.”

  “Thank you, young lady,” he said and slipped his hand into hers.

  The impact was electric, immediate and terrifying. Eric had never felt so much from the single touch of a woman’s hand in his own. And judging from the wide-eyed look of shock and longing that was visible on Jessa’s face, the feeling was entirely mutual. Before he could stop himself, Eric leaned down and kissed her lips. To his amazement, Jessa kissed him back. Each seemed reluctant to pull away and end the sweet, lingering kiss, but finally he pulled back and tucked her head under his chin.

  “As much as I would like nothing better than to keep kissing you, well and for a good long time at that, I think we should get back,” he said.

  “Yeah. You’re right,” Jessa answered. “But just so you know, that is the probably first and last time you will hear me say that.” She was smiling up at him.

  As they headed back to the group, Eric tried his hardest to look anywhere other than at the pretty redhead walking next to him, but he was hyperaware of every movement she made and every breath she took. This was the worst time he could think of to be worrying about women, when there were literally zombies at the doors.

  * * * * *

  The Colonel’s group was spread out, canvassing their side of the arena for things of use, when he slipped into the room filled with vending items under the pretense of taking inventory and preparing rations. Once inside, he closed the door, locked it behind him and began filling a large bag he had found with chips, candy, granola bars, water and Gatorade which he planned to stash up in the stadium seating area. The others wouldn’t need it anyway.

  * * * * *

  Eric looked his group over and addressed them, “It doesn’t look like the Colonel’s group wants to play nice. So we need to scavenge what we can from our side. They have a room with food from the machines and the concession stand on that side, so hopefully there is a similar one over on this side, as well, or maybe a break room with vending machines in it. Let’s split up and see what we can find. Look for things that can be used as weapons, too. You never know who, or what, you are going to have to defend yourselves against right now. This is not the same world we woke up to this morning.”

  “Mindy, you and your kids stay on the far side of this room. I don’t want those kids anywhere near that psycho or any of his minions. Noble and Anthony, you two take the right side. Start in the middle and make your way back here. Jessa and I will do the same on the left. If you find anything good, don’t shout it out. We want to keep our assets to ourselves for now. We’ll all report our findings when we are done with our search and meet back here. Everybody good with that?”

  Eric searched the faces of his group. Each of them nodded their understanding and they all took off in their separate directions. He and Jessa headed up the left to the walkway that split through the seating in the middle of the stadium. They opened the door on the right side of the aisle first, and Jessa laughed when she saw the contents.

  “Whoever is in charge of this place must have OCD or something!” she burst out in spurts between her peals of laughter.

  “I think you might be right,” Eric agreed.

  The room was filled with yet more cleaning supplies and enough hand sanitizer to kill all the bacteria in a small state. Brooms, mops, buckets and such filled the room.

  Jessa was bent over from laughter, the tension of the day, finally getting the best of her. Tears ran down her face and she was taking huge gulps of air in between her f
its of giggles. She reached out and grabbed Eric’s arm to steady herself and it happened again. Eric’s body stiffened at her touch and he was instantly aroused. Embarrassed, he looked away from her in an attempt to collect himself and get his dirty and completely inappropriate to the situation at hand thoughts in order.

  When he turned back to her, she wasn’t laughing any longer, but rather looking at him seriously, her sparkling green eyes now sexy and hungry. Jessa turned to face him and put her hands on his face, searching his eyes with her own.

  “What is happening?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know.” Eric’s voice was rough with desire. “We shouldn’t be doing this. You’re probably twenty years....”

  “Shut up, Eric. Age doesn’t matter anymore. This is a different world, remember?”

  “Yes, it is,” he responded as he bent to cover her mouth with his own.

  He kicked the door shut behind him and locked it without breaking the kiss.

  * * * * *

  The Colonel sat and watched both groups, swarming over the arena like ants on a hill, a humorless smile playing over his lips, as he realized they had no idea how pointless their actions were. Really though, it was a fitting analogy. They were no more important to him than ants. And when the time came, another 12 minutes according to his watch, he would throw open the doors and let natural selection do its thing.

  He stood up, walked to each metal, garage style door that shut off the arena from the outer building and began to disengage the locks from each one. He wondered if Jackson, in the other group, was doing the same on that side, as he was supposed to be.

  * * * * *

  Physically spent, Jessa and Eric lay in each other arms in the supply room. They had prepared a bed by emptying at least fifty packages of brown paper towels and piling the contents in the middle of the floor. Jessa called it their nest, but now she had brown paper towels stuck to her ass. She laughed and rolled over and put her chin on Eric’s chest so they could talk face to face.