43.
What the hell do we do now? I asked myself.
The smoke was thick in the air, choking our breath and obscuring our sight. But, even through it and the thick haze of ash, we could see the devastation. A series of small craters, easily half a mile wide, lay before us, the remnants of Champaign-Urbana seen on its far side. The closest craters to us had been filled with wood and pitch, and burned hot, but not bright, putting off great plumes of thick, black smoke.
We stood there, beside the Fury, each of our thoughts hidden from the others. I could see the futility of my journey now; saw how hopeless it all was. There was no way that my family could have survived the destruction I was now looking at. And, even if they had, I could her, if not see, the dead before us, and could only imagine how many there were.
"Eddy, I'm so..." Doc began, her voice choked due to the smoke.
"Don't," I said as I raised a hand to silence her. "Just don't."
The others milled about the small area around the car. Philip was looking intently towards the other side of the crater, binoculars up to his eyes. What he hoped to see through the smoke I did not know, but realized he probably was just doing it to keep himself busy, allowing me time to collect my thoughts. The twins sat on the trunk, talking softly between themselves. Samantha seemed distraught, and Timothy had his arm around her, comforting her. Abigail wept softly in the back seat, curled up into a small ball.
My mind spun with the implications of what I was looking at. With all that I had heard, all that I had seen, since waking up mere days ago, this almost seemed unreal. Almost like a dream. My thoughts had been solely to make it here, to make it back to the arms of my family, and now...
I fell heavily to my knees, lowering my head and placing it into my hands. I felt the tears, hot on my face; mix with the layer of soot and ash that was clinging there. I did not care. My family was more than likely gone. I had failed them. I started to weep uncontrolled, new realization finally sinking in.
I felt a soft hand on my shoulder, heard a voice close to my ear.
"Eddy..."
I leapt up and flung the hand away, turning to see that it was Doc. I screamed at her, a primal scream that would have made even the mighty Spartans proud, and then turned my fury towards the crater. My cry died out, and here and there, I saw wisps of the smoke clear away, and in that moment, the creatures that lived in the cloud.
They were coming our way.
I reached inside the car and grasped the hilt of my sword, pulling it out. I raised it in a salute at the approaching creatures, whose forms could now be seen clearer through the thinning smoke as they grew closer. I watched the offending monsters draw near, and readied myself for one last charge.
If my family was truly dead, which I now believed them to be, then I didn’t want to live any longer in this world. But I would go out fighting, taking as many of these sons of bitches to Hell with me. I felt hands grabbing me, and had the vague impression that someone was trying to hold me back. But their words fell onto deaf ears, and I shrugged the hands away.
Then a single word cut through my haze, a simple word that calmed me instantly.
“Daddy?”
44.
I was following close behind the other car, the driver leading me back to their “camp” as he called it.
I had been about to charge, to sacrifice myself to destroy as many of the zombies as I could, when I heard a child call me Daddy. I turned and there he was, Seth, my youngest, just standing there in the middle of the road. I had stood, frozen, and stared at him for a moment, and he stared right back at me. Then, when I decided that I wasn’t dreaming, I had dropped my sword and rushed over to scoop him up. He and I both started crying, squeezing each other as if we were going to disappear again.
Then Doc and Philip had called out to me, and directed my attention to a dozen figures that emerged from the brush on the south side of the road. They were all armed, and each of them had their guns pointed at us.
After a few tense moments, in which Seth actually was our rescuer, they had decided that we needed to follow them back to their base. Well, the approaching hoard of undead may have helped to speed their decision also.
And now here we were.
We came around the bend back on to One-Fifty, and down a little ways. The plumes of smoke from Champaign–Urbana could be seen in my rearview. We had just passed the ruined Aldi’s to our left when the truck in front of me turned right. My eyes opened wide as I saw the wall of cars ahead and to our left, circling a still standing Wall-mart, and the fact that we seemed to be driving right towards it. I slowed when I saw the trucks taillights come on, and finally came to a complete stop.
Seth bounced out of the truck, and I immediately jumped out. The man that was driving, a big bearded, tattooed, mountain of a man grabbed Seth up, not really noticing him kicking and screaming at him.
“Let my boy go!” I screamed at him, but was ignored just the same.
There were two large box trucks parked ass to ass right in front of us, and I watched as two of the other people got into them and fired them up. They pulled them apart a few feet, creating a kind of passage between them, and I saw a small group of people coming towards us.
The man seemingly leading them was an older man, slight of build, but strong for his age. He wore simple jeans and a work coat, and carried a rifle under his arm with ease. As he came closer, a gasp fell from my mouth as I recognized the man.
“As I live and breathe,” Carl, my father in law, said. “We had given you up for dead Eddy. Mike, let the boy go, that’s his father.”
Seth rushed over to me the moment his feet touched the ground, and I scooped him up in my arms. I held him there for a moment, and then carried him over to where Carl was talking with the other people. He smiled as I got close, a singularly shocking sight, given the circumstances.
“It’s good to see you Eddy,” he began. “We honestly figured you for dead. When did you wake up?”
“A few days ago,” I said to him. “Where’s Crystal?”
Carl sighed, the sound of it making my heart drop to the bottom of my stomach.
“We need to talk,” he said, “come inside.”
And so, journal, with that I had come to the end of my search.
I wish that I could say that it was a happy occurrence.
Things changed for me and my friends then, coming together with a group so large, and it changed for them also allowing us entrance. It was hard for everyone to adjust in the world of the dead. I wanted so much just to hold my beloved, to lie next to her at night, and to feel complete again. Sit there, like I used to, and watch my children play in the yard. Such simple joys that I realize now I will never have again.
Once again I am the fool.
Tomorrow, journal, I will tell you the rest of my story. Now, it is late, and I am being beckoned to my bed. My candles burn low and I finished my cigarette, so for now I will say goodnight to you.
And goodnight to all those I love.
- The Journal Of Edward J. Eaton II
My Apocalypse (Book 1): The Fall Page 15