Life After (Book 2): The Void

by Bryan Way

  After icing my back yet again, I curl up in bed. As I lift my arm to protect my neck from a phantom assailant and try to clear my thoughts, I find myself focusing on something I might otherwise have missed: I started this descent into troubling issues by acknowledging the fact that Jimmy will someday be an adult. On some level, that must mean I believe that our group will function well enough to see him surviving past puberty. Even if he’s emotionally crippled by growing up in a world of the undead, or if Mel is willing to sell us out at the drop of the hat, or even if we have to kill Rob to protect ourselves, Jimmy as an adult would be an astounding achievement. This notion comforts me enough to lull me to sleep.

  12-29-04, WEDNESDAY

  Banging on the door yet again. I mumble a litany of curses as I stagger toward the handle, sure that yesterday’s wonderful recharge will be wasted on yet another night of lost sleep. This time, Rich is responsible.

  “You up?” He asks. What an asinine question.

  “…yes.”

  “Good, got more walkers comin’ in southwest.”

  “Alright…”

  “What?”

  “I said alright!”

  When I return to bed, I find Mel sleeping on the other side yet again. Unsure of when, how, and why she entered my room, I get dressed, get my gear, and find Anderson slinking along the science hallway as I head toward the stairwell. “Dude, don’t even think about it. Hang out with Sak or something.” His barely perceptible nod confirms that it will be awhile until he’s ready for action. Rich and Jake join me for yard duty, and the battle against the undead is a truly forgettable affair with yet another overwhelming victory for our side. The bodies are placed in the pool and I return to my room with a strong desire for a nap.

  Though I expect to find Mel still sleeping, I am greeted with Anderson staring out my windows and Mel absent. “Jesus Christ… I just wanna go to bed…” I mutter. Anderson turns, dropping a pile of AA battery packages before he faces me. My glance is powerful enough to suggest an obvious question, and he answers before I can verbalize: “These were in Sak’s room.” A reasonable pause follows before he continues.

  “Batteries… ammo… food… water…”

  “So…?” I start.

  “Sak’s hoarding.”

  I shake my head. If our little high school cabaret continues to be a seminar on how people become the worst versions of themselves in survival situations, we might as well dig our graves now.

  “So?” I sigh.

  “So? Who says he gets to keep his own personal stockpile?”

  “I don’t know, no one… do we have a rule about it?”

  “That’s not the…”

  “The point? Yes it is. No one told him he couldn’t do that.”

  Anderson stares at me.

  “I’ve had this conversation too many times.” I mutter. “Every other day someone’s being a prick about something and we have a talk about it. I’m tired of it. So what if he’s keeping some extra supplies?”

  “…he can’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  “Dammit, Grey, they aren’t his supplies… they’re ours. You heard him when he was drunk… he thinks he’s entitled to them…”

  “So he’s a hoarder… you don’t think he’d share it in a pinch?”

  “No. I don’t. That’s my point.” Anderson continues.

  “Well what do you wanna do? Take it away? If he resists, we kill him too?”

  “Look, dude, if you’re gonna overreact…”

  “…when I said I’ve had this conversation too many times, I meant it. I don’t know why everyone comes to me with this crap.”

  “Yes you do.”

  It’s my turn to stare at him.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t want to be the guy. You’re the one making the plans, and we follow your lead. Yeah, me and Rich have a say, and you’re open to listening when it comes to how we do things… but you’re the one who decides to do them. So don’t puss out ‘cause it’s too hard.”

  “That’s a helluva thing for you to say to me.”

  “Yeah, well… deal with it.”

  Anderson heads for the door. “I’m not talking to Mursak.” I call after him. He doesn’t turn around as he responds. “I’ll do it.” Feeling as though I generally dedicate far too much thought to these matters, I decide I’m better off just going back to sleep and trying to block it out. While I’m drifting off, I think I hear some faint noise in my room, but I manage to block that out as well.

  When I wake up again, the sun has already begun setting. Recalling the brief interruption I had while drifting off, I quickly surmise that the only thing in my room capable of making noise on its own is my cell phone. I pick it up to discover I have 26 missed calls; two from my parents, and the remainder from Alan.

  I listen to a few messages and glean that my mom wants me to call her back, while Alan’s water problem is only getting worse. Thankfully, he suggests his group has the reserves to hold out for another week, but repeated attempts to treat the tap water have produced no discernable results. Jack suggested that they boil it to remove possible pathogens, but this has tended to make the water slightly darker and significantly fouler. Because of this, Jack believes the water is contaminated with petroleum, and they’re in the dark on how it can be removed.

  Well aware of my previous reputation for procrastinating, I decide to hold off on calling him back. I avoid the cafeteria by getting myself some food through the back channels and return to my room to eat alone. As I take in my daily ration, I refocus on my previous assessment; namely, that I’m a procrastinator. I don’t want to talk to Mel, deal with the kids, tell Mursak we know about his hoarding, discuss a rescue of our Penn State friends, confront Rob about his murder, or return to the community college. I want to live without these disturbances and spend my last days doing something I can enjoy.

  I can’t believe what an asshole I am.

  I’m sure my brother’s vision of heaven would be exceeded by our excesses when he was literally staring death in the face. I could wake up to my last day on earth at any time, and I’m bitching about leisure. I’ve done nothing over the last half-week, believing I’ve earned a vacation from retrieving Mel and Helen from a group of people who essentially wanted to avoid a fight with us. We killed them anyway, and my guilt has manifested itself through the fear of having my throat slit in my sleep.

  Without stopping to think, I get up and seek out Rich. After a search that lasts twenty minutes, I find him in the basement boiler room, just a few feet from where I first met him on the night when this began. The look with which he greets me suggests he’s ready to listen, so I don’t hold anything back.

  “We’re going to the community center tomorrow, and when I get back, we’re rescuing Alan.”

  “…these are orders?” Rich asks.

  “This is what we have to do. Anderson already gave me this line of shit and I’m past it. Do you want to walk me through our plans?”

  “What plans?”

  “Exactly. We can’t spend the rest of our lives holed up in here, waiting to die.”

  “We don’t know it ends like that.”

  “Oh come on, Rich… everyone who dies comes back, so losing one means adding another to their side. That’s not a war you can win. We die in here or we die out there… we’ve got half a dozen people in Penn State who are gonna die of thirst… we’ve got a building full of supplies less than a mile from here… if you and Anderson outvote me, I’ll go behind your backs, if you want to kick me out, I’ll go it alone, if you want to kill me, go ahead… if you can live with ignoring this, fine… I CAN’T! Got it?”

  “Yeah. You make a compelling argument.”

  After about four seconds, we burst into hysterics. Watching his face as he laughs pushes my amusement past the realm of simple delight and into transcendent catharsis.

  “Anyone ever told you you come on strong?” Rich asks.

  “First I’ve heard of it.”

&n
bsp; “All the same, I’m on your side. You’re right… you’ve just gotta change your approach.”

  “Yeah… Jesus, Rich, I’m sorry… I just got tired of dragging my feet. All this shit going on here I don’t want to deal with… saving these people… stocking up… that matters. Know what I mean?”

  “Yeah man… what shit going on here?”

  “Ah… you know… Mel… Rob… Sak’s hoarding supplies… you heard that?”

  “Doesn’t surprise me.” Rich replies.

  “And you’re not worried?”

  “They’re still here, aren’t they?”

  “That’s one way of looking at it.” I concede.

  “Look… he’s paranoid, he’s got a little sister… I don’t blame him.” Rich shrugs, continuing. “About tomorrow… it’s your op. Gimme the roster and we’re cool.”

  “You sounded a bit like Anderson there.”

  “Yeah, well… we rub off on each other.”

  “Is that, like… a communal shower thing…?”

  Rich chuckles as he extends his hand to shake, which turns into a hug before I quite literally leave him to his devices. I get more food and spend some time wandering the compound, trying to think through how we should handle the trip to the community center tomorrow. Mel might have the best knowledge of the layout, and making her an integral part of the mission could give us insight into her state of mind. Karen is probably the best person to determine the necessary supplies, Anderson’s gonna want to get off the bench, and Jake might appreciate a chance to step up. If Anderson picks the supplies and makes the initial plan, he’ll be guaranteed to find the arrangement amenable.

  When I inform Anderson of this plan, he vigorously agrees and asks for time alone to develop our approach. Once I’ve discussed it in the abstract with Jake and Karen, and once she’s supplied me with more naproxen, I return to my room to strike another box on my mental checklist, luckily finding Mel waiting in my bed. Sitting up on several pillows with a magazine in her hands, she acknowledges my presence with a dismissive smirk.

  For a moment, I struggle to grasp what’s different about her face, but I finally notice she’s wearing glasses for the first time since we’ve met. Her narrow brown eyes stay fixed on her reading material, belying their enormity when she feels anything other than indifference. I quietly change into my sleeping clothes, tending to both the computer and my cell phone before turning my attention back to Mel. “So…” I open unintelligently. Her eyes rise over the magazine by way of acknowledging me.

  “Is that all you had?” She asks.

  “Look, uh… we’re going back to DC cubed tomorrow… and, well… you probably know it best…”

  “…sure.”

  “So, you’re in?”

  “Why not?”

  I let a reasonable silence cling to the air before continuing.

  “If you don’t want to…”

  “Do I have a choice?” She asks.

  “Of course.”

  “You sure make it seem that way.”

  “Look, Mel… I don’t know what happened…”

  “No…” She interrupts. “You don’t.”

  “Mel…”

  “I thought I made it pretty clear I didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “It’s not like we’re unsympathetic…” I add.

  “You really think I give a shit about your sympathy? You think it changes anything?”

  “…yeah, I do.”

  Her eyes enlarge as they roll in annoyance. Catching my injuriously vulnerable countenance, she closes the magazine. “What do you want? You’re obviously after something.” She replies. I look down at the floor, finding no answers. Maybe the direct approach is the best one. “Helen said you wanted to go with them.” I say finally. I study Mel’s response, but she doesn’t move a muscle.

  “You can see why that’s a problem…” I continue. “I don’t want to believe it… but if you really want out, there’s no one stopping you…”

  “…I did what I needed to survive. Okay?” She interrupts. “That’s it. If I wanted to run, I woulda followed Matt that first night. I’m not here just ‘coz I think I’m safe. I want to be here.”

  “…and…” I continue eventually. “…you want to stay with me?”

  “You want me out?”

  “…no… I wanna know why.”

  She shakes her head as she looks at the ceiling, and then brings her eyes down to her lap. “I can’t sleep alone anymore.” I nod for a moment before I get up and join her in bed. Mel looks at me with some mixture of passivity and embarrassment before I reach out to hug her and get a tentative embrace back. I can’t shake some lingering uneasiness, even as she drops the magazine and rolls over to go to sleep. If she’s lying, she almost sold me, but I’ll still sleep with my arm draped over my neck. Maybe I’ll feel better once we check DC cubed. If there’s an ambush, I can only hope I’m ready for it, and she’s not in on it.

  12-30-04, THURSDAY

  Every time Mel touches me in my sleep, I wake up and push her away. As if that isn’t bad enough, the combination of her body heat and the comforter make the bed too hot, so I can’t get comfortable and end up imitating a psychogenic washer on spin cycle, perceiving each brief moment of consciousness with vague thematic significance that imbues my sleeping positions with a distinct mood and temperament. I break the sequence by getting up for some water and settle into a more or less fitful sleep sometime after the sun has risen.

  My next conscious thought is tied to gunfire. Once I’ve processed this, I recognize the potential danger and rocket out of bed, unable to stop to dress myself or put on shoes. When I’ve made it to the hallway, I can better process that the gunshots are coming from above me. I bolt up the greenhouse steps, blow through the door, and quickly find Anderson and Jake lying prone on the roof, each pointing their respective rifles into the street. Both fire in succession, and I watch as one of them fells a Zombie. “Why waste the bullets?” I ask. “Trying to prove I can shoot to this sawed-off prick.” Anderson mutters to Jake, who chuckles.

  “Yeah, well, you’re about 80% on accuracy so far.” Jake replies.

  “I’d like to see you shoot better, little prick.”

  “Any reason you need to prove that?” I ask.

  “We still headed to DC cubed?”

  “Yeah…?”

  “Then I’d better prove it.”

  “Well… don’t waste too much ammo.”

  “He’s already wasted about 20%.” Jake sniggers.

  “Go fuck yourself!” Anderson spits back.

  I yawn and stretch. “Well… I’m gettin’ breakfast together. Better move before we lose the sun.” I don’t get an acknowledgement as they return to shooting. Breakfast consists of tea and toaster pastries, and all the while Jake and Anderson debate about their accuracy. Only a few crucial moments are expended on the day’s plan: Anderson, Jake, Mel and I were pretty much a given, and Karen asks to come along as well. I sense some urgency as she voices this, but I’m unable to tell whether this has more do with general malaise over being stuck indoors or if she’s getting fed up with Rich.

  Since I was the first one to start eating, I find myself the first one to finish as well. With our impending trip to the community college preying on my mind, I head up to the keep and start loading up on supplies. When I exit the weapons closet, I find Rich waiting for me.

  “What’s up?”

  “Look, I know Karen wants to go… but I think she should stay put.”

  “Why?”

  “Does she strike you as exhausted?”

  “We all are…” I start, moving past him.

  “No shit.” He replies, following me into the hall. “Think I would’ve said something if I didn’t realize that?”

  “I can’t tell her to stay put… she’s the best person to determine supplies and she’s been cooped up too long.”

  “Can we vote on it?”

  Without hesitation, I head to the security office and
instruct Anderson to meet us in 218. A few minutes pass before he joins us.

  “So, does Karen stay, or does she go?” I ask him.

  “What?” Anderson replies.

  “Do you vote she goes with us?”

  “I dunno… she volunteered, right?”

  “But do you think she’s unfit?” Rich asks.

  “No more than me…?”

  “So you vote she goes?” I ask.

  “… I vote she makes her own decision.”

  “Then she goes.” Rich says.

  Once Rich departs in a huff, we get our gear together and Anderson informs Mursak that he’s responsible for the kids while we’re gone. In short order, Mel, Jake, and Karen all prepare themselves, with all three of them carrying largely empty bags to assist with hoarding supplies. I find myself a hoodie for another layer to combat the cold. At 2:15, we queue up at the gate and head out. Anderson insists on driving the Humvee, since he’s apparently the only person ‘rated’ to operate the vehicle, and our sortie to DC cubed begins in earnest.

  The drive reminds me of our previous foray despite the fact that we’re now heading to our destination in daylight. The Humvee unsurprisingly navigates well despite the slight accumulation of snow, and as we pull into the parking lot, I’m surprised to find myself thinking of Julia. After a moment, I realize I’ve spaced out long enough to forget what we were doing. The Humvee is stopped in the street adjacent to DC cubed while Anderson surveys the parking lot entrance.