The Integration (Part I): Still Myself, Still Surviving

by Marlin Grail

  “The supplies were hidden within the flooring. I carved a section under the couch, so if they didn't see it, then we will have more food, water, and clothes to bring back.” He explains with burrowed excitement.

  All of us agree the potential reward is worth the risk of being around the RV—one last time. We walk to where it sits, dinged significantly on its left side from the grenade blast. I find one thing noticeable to the aftermath that is out of place. Besides there being empty bullets on the ground and dried up blood that is splattered on the road and exterior of the vehicle, the bodies of the aggressors, which were handled, are nowhere to be found.

  Still cautious about our surroundings, I work my up to the RV's front, seeing those 2 I killed missing. Enhancing this examination, I see more blood—practically dried and non-visible at a distance. It stretches to the left side of the road, going off of the pavement, and likely continuing into the woods that our group ran through.

  They took their dead from naked sight. They might respect their dead too.

  Ashton is inside the RV, and the rest of us wait on edge, staring deep at the forest grounds where those aggressors ambushed us. I can hear his impatient physicality going into effect, for it sounds as though he threw the couch. Janice asks Lissie and me if these attackers were in fact some of the 'rebels' C. was mentioning, and could they have been subdued by this point.

  “If they did come across another group like us, they probably were not persuaded to join, and, certainly, would have paid the price for it.” I say, consciously defending my claim through this predilection I find about working with C.—to help us feel less nervous about the possibility those aggressors are still out there somewhere, and possibly even searching for our whereabouts.

  Now that it seems their group's character speaks more. Knowing they took care to hide and possibly enshroud the ones Harold and I killed, I carefully contemplate what we should be watchful of from here on out, while trying not to worry myself too much about these notions of my own—making sure not to condemn them to be their actual thoughts of action.

  After a grueling minute of waiting, Ashton comes out with a well-sized bag he is carrying. “Everything else was wiped clean—except this one. Sure enough, no one ever noticed.” He says, with a cocky laugh at the end.

  “You're a lifesaver, but I bet you originally just wanted to have a stash to sniff our underwear.” Lissie tells him with a smirk.

  They bump each other on their shoulders playfully, indicating their friendship is still strongly magnetized.

  “Janice, do you mind holding it for us?” Ashton asks.

  She grabs the bag and says it would be the least she could do without messing things up.

  Ashton gives a chuckle of disbelief. “You're never putting yourself down, so why all of a sudden?” he inquires.

  “Because, since it's down to just the 4, that means ¼ of us is 25% more counted on to do what we got by doing with when it was the 6 of us. I'm not sure if I will be able to keep up.” She says, holding a pitiful attitude to her tone.

  I feel the need to step in to the conversation before we move forward. “Janice, I know you are overwhelmed by the severe changes we have had over the last 72 hours, but even when it was the 6 of us, everyone here still counted on your positive outlook. We will kill more undead today, and maybe even more living today, but as long as you are here to encourage and offer support for when we might lose it, then we will never feel held back.”

  I seem to have boosted her confidence, for she takes the bag, and gives a nice complementary hug to all of us. “Thank you.” She says, before giving her machete up to Lissie, and walking down the road alongside with Ashton.

  No one looks back at the RV, and eventually after staring down the woodland area we concerned over, longer than necessary, we take our attention back to reaching the roadblock. The farther the travel became, the lesser undead were spotted—at least alive.

  Many bodies from herds of them laid formlessly on the ground. Sometimes, they seem to clog the road's space, so we have to walk over their corpses. Their textured sores and bumps, along with unnatural skin pigment, can be witnessed up close without risk.

  Each body, disregarding the difference between males and females, look all the same. Their torn clothing is not immutable, for many of the original colors have faded, making them lose uniqueness. Of course, the only quality worth focusing on with the undead is their eyes, and ensuring they are not milky-green.

  “This might be a sign of getting close.” Ashton says, observing the bevies of lifeless undead around.

  A strong observation it is, for any large sum of this size would have been accomplished by one or many with admirable firepower. I ask him for the time, and he states we have been gone for 2 hours.

  “I know there's still plenty of time, but hopefully we get this done and return back to the shelter before nightfall.” Lissie comments, shielding her eyes as she looks up at the murky sky.

  Just as soon as she says it, an unknown sound interrupts our interaction. It has the noise of a miniature grass trimmer, but with its trigger being held down, getting louder with each second. Finally, the object has flown right in front of us. It has 4 working propellers, small in diameter, and drawing our eyes to its center, with a visual camera structured beneath. “It's a drone.” I say, being surprised in my tone.

  We find it strange, especially as it hovers in place several feet ahead of us. No doubt is the camera activated—which means someone is definitely watching. “Ca-can we make it communicate?” Lissie says.

  My thinking heightens, so I tell Ashton to hand me over the journal he brought. “We're thinking on the same wavelength, bro.” He says, already pulling out the journal and the pencil.

  I grab it, keeping my eyes focused intensely where the drone is at, and write in large lettering “ARE YOU WITH C.? SWAY LEFT AND RIGHT FOR YES”. Moments of anticipation pass, but eventually the drone sways left, then right. Certain this drone belongs to the roadblock we are heading to, or at least can help us to it, I immediately flip to a fresh page and write “ROADBLOCK AHEAD? LEAD US IF YES”.

  The drone turns 180°, and proceeds down the road. I hand the journal and pencil back to Ashton. “I wonder why the guy didn't let us know drones were worked with?” he points out.

  I respond, also taking in what I am thinking in real time, “Like you said earlier, we cannot deny that they would challenge us, and that could include not sharing everything.”

  This series of events we have persevered over so far today should make their impressions of us buoyant, but I will not forget the absolute necessary action to do when we see the roadblock, so what we've done is not seen futile. Every now and then, the drone turns back at us, so it understands we are still following it.

  This road has become completely flat and straight—broken down and very deceptive on how far in distance it goes before a change occurs. Well close to another half-hour strikes, and then our quality of just ourselves differs. Our eyes follow the drone—then we are all taken by surprise when it elevates high in the air and goes above the tree-line. Looking straight ahead now can several concrete barriers be seen, spread out in formation that surrounds the boarder of the road. Several people stand in position behind them, perhaps bored of nothing happening—at least until we have shown up. A loud male voice belches, “HALT!”

  Even being a few hundred feet away from us, their figures are all angled in a way that represents them aiming directly at our group—waiting with suspense aligned to their imaginary reticles. We respect the necessary demand, and I instantly recall what our 'supervisor' instructed me to shout. This phrase comes out of me, with no fear and no anger, “D11!”

  “What'd you say?” he yells back, speaking with an almost derisive tone.

  I have the feeling he heard what I said, fully, but he would like to entice on the grounds of not hurting any of us. It seems this unit might feel a sense of authority they have right now, and they want our nerves to bow to their whim
—with no arguing or contradictory attitude at all. This is likely another test our introduction into C. constantly toys at us—with us being able to accept hierarchy.

  “D11!” I carefully yell back.

  A moment of quiet is elongated more than necessary by this roadblock dispatch, but, eventually, the man tells us to move forward. We cautiously walk down to them, so not one of these guards have a trigger-happy moment. Once we reach to the very concrete barriers that crowd this very width of road, the man asks us what we need clearance towards.

  “We were instructed to go to this one small town, supposedly not far from here, for a scavenging run.” I explain, cautious with how I sound.

  I peer one of my eyes to my rear left, noticing a female guard, looking with a fierce stare at us all, and purposefully showing off her double-barrel shotgun as a means to keep us compliant, but mostly docile for her satisfaction—for all of their satisfaction. The man snaps his fingers viciously at me, so I remain focused on him.

  “Yeah. That place ain't that far.” He says, before resting his hands to his hips and asking me if we are new.

  “Yes. This is our first assignment.”

  He wishes me good luck, and tells us if we come back from the opposite direction to do as we did before, otherwise, “Ka-ploo!” he playfully vocalizes, while mockingly forming a finger pistol at my forehead.

  “That will not have to happen.” I assure him, and we get clearance to be on our way.

  Well over 8 or 9 gunners are watching us, but it is difficult to know for certain which number of them is correct, for none of us feel comfortable looking at anyone here, but without a doubt are all of their eyes safe to watch our group.

  All of them carry guns, except the one that found us with their drone, as it hovers by his clunky controller, and then takes off. Though we have reached beyond where they stand, I can still imagine their eyes continuing to glare at our backs.

  Step after step, we reach an ascending hill in the road that would takes us out of their steady eyes and barrels. The first person which declares it is secure enough to begin talking is Janice. “We all did well, but they might have been a little—” her statement goes, until it gets interrupted by Lissie.

  “Crazy?” she questions, to know if it fulfills Janice's comment.

  “Well, let's just put defensive, Lissie, but regardless of how they treated us, they were only doing their duty.”

  I'm glad Janice can see it that way.

  Many minutes go by with us traversing over more lifeless undead, but finally the right turn we need to take appears. “Just like a real road trip. You get happy when you get off the long road—only to get on another long road.” Ashton says, with more input of humor to this serious juncture.

  I assure him the town does not sound far from our current position, and to keep in mind for everyone that there might be people around the area that are not apart of C. “We must remain quiet from hereon.”

  Where the woods occupy have now risen above the road, on both sides, leaving us below—being similar to a path in a small valley. A pack of undead, 3 total, are in our trajectory. They are standing and staring in odd places on the road, but now have we brought purpose to their abominable existence. One speed-walks their way towards us, faster than the other 2, repetitively chomping its teeth open and close.

  I naturally draw out my sword and commence an attack onto its head. Their intent goes null, for now my blade has landed directly into their brain from a brisk strike. Ashton runs past my right, holding his assault rifle in one hand, and a knife in the other to thwart the second undead. Lissie, not in a rush, goes past my left, interestingly strolling her way to the third and final one.

  Ashton shoves the knife into his undead's frontal lobe, striking with a reverse grip to his blade. Lissie, now fully handling Janice's machete, executes her swing of it at the side of the last undead's head, knocking them down with much force, with its body falling rigid and limp to the ground.

  She looks back at me for a split moment, offering an uncontrollable smile from the invigorating kill she pulled off, but after a few seconds of us providing twinkles of admiration to each other, a glimmer of something more arises from her. An... amorous expression appears.

  Whether from the adrenaline she gathered just now, or the reflection of us persevering from all that we have managed to come out of, the smudge of blood that undead inadvertently painted on her cheek, and no care to it, indicates, while we look at each other, something pleasurable has triggered and paralyzed her.

  “Hey girl, wipe that nastiness off your face.” Ashton bumps in, unknowing why she has not cleaned it off yet. She slowly drops her smile until it is entirely absent, and focuses on moving forward, but not before viewing me one more time, having a blank look and swallowing a big gulp of embarrassment down her throat.

  “Good job, everyone.” I say, putting my sword back, and walking up to the very front.

  Chapter XVIII

  Finally, after journeying for as many hours as it has been, we have reached our destination to begin the actual task at hand. The woodland surface around us has descended downward, leveling back with the road. A derelict gas station is closest in distance to us. “Let's start there.” I suggest, looking for everyone's acknowledgment.

  We begin jogging to it. The building is on our right, and while picking out its dilapidated specifics, I fantasize how this location would have been held proud by the small community here for its contributions.

  It likely once was a colorful-looking place. I could see residents and passing travelers alike, fueling their vehicles, and filling up on nutrients—perhaps taking in the calmness around them before going back onto the hectic interstate. Though its appearance is neglected all around, at least it remains a perfect place for scavenging—still serving its purpose for the people.

  We get to the right side of this building, with the front perpendicular to us. Glass windows stretch around, fortunately allowing me to peek inside and spot for anything unwanted. I look into one of the small, cracked, glass panels for a clearer visual. “I am not spotting movement in there.” I announce, with being soft spoken.

  With all of us currently crouched against the building's white brick wall, I take this advantage to plan our formation before we begin. “We are going to zig-zag from building, to building, until we reach the end of this town. Ashton, because we want to be aware of any activity before it is aware of us, I position you as our watch. Lissie, Janice, and I will be responsible for grabbing the supplies deemed useful. Anything edible, drinkable, and medicinal are the top categories we should look for. Keep yourself reminded that we need to stay alert throughout, so do not sway from the group on your own.”

  Lissie and Janice acknowledge what they will be doing, but I can tell Ashton has a question yearning inside him. “Gary, would this mean guns are allowed if people come across us?”

  “If it is too late for us to stay hidden from them, then yes, otherwise warn everyone first if you spot others drawing near.”

  After clearing up the incertitude, I hand-signal us to move towards the front of the convenient store. Its glass doors have already been broken, suggesting this place has been vandalized at one point in time. I break off some of the shards still fixed to the right door's bottom, and get inside first—ducking under the iron-handle molded onto the door's frame. I assist Lissie and Janice through the gaping entrance, and then Ashton. “Stay by this area, and continuously look to both sides of the road.” I instruct, undeterred with my reasoning for entrusting him.

  Ashton is hypersensitive to the slightest movements, and is great at long-distance firing.

  Lissie and I currently carry the 2 emptied bags intended for this mission, and we make sure to place our reserves we brought with us into the one bag Ashton acquired at the RV.

  “Janice, you hold on to this, and just inform to either of us what we should take.” I say, considering the physical strain that could come for her.

  She then takes that
heavy bag and dangles it on her left bicep. “I have 2 arms, don't I?” she says, respectively altering my orders. She says she will not get in the way, but that she will grab and toss items in our bags for us to carry.

  “Sure.” I respond with a smile.

  The moment Lissie places her machete on the cashier counter, she immediately starts searching through the food isles. Janice goes off to assist, while I begin opening the freezer doors. No coldness is blowing back, and many of the shelves are empty. I swing one open after another, yet nothing has become visible. I'm practically halfway through all of them, and, finally, do I start seeing refreshments tucked far inside some of the columned shelves. I extend with a long reach to grab the vitamin water, muscle-milk, and soda. I can hear behind me the crinkling of bags being snatched and pulled off the shelves that Lissie and Janice are at.

  Definitely, none of us are taking this run lightly, though it might be based more on tenseness with what or how we would be graded for our results, versus having keenness in increasing the infrastructure of C. through this assigned donation.

  I search every freezer door built in this store, and only a handful of drinks have been discovered. “Better than nothing.” I tell myself, letting the last door remain open.

  “I've haven't seen anything yet.” Ashton comments to us by the front.

  I rejoin Lissie and Janice, both still exploring through the food shelves. Much of the same convenience has been going for them. “Only a few chip bags and gum packets we've found.” Lissie says with agitation in her tone.

  With all of the shelves explored and scavenged clean, we figure the places left unchecked are the 2 areas to the store's right side. I instruct Lissie to search the employees only area, while I go and see if anything is worth taking from the bathroom. Janice holds the bathroom door for me, so the outside light can try and shine in this pitch-black space. One urinal is seen to my left, along with a sink, with a soap dispenser mounted on top of it.