“Come on, baby,” she said calmly to Daniel. “Bath time. You like bath time, right?” The sobbing boy was too upset to attempt an answer. Aisha picked him up and stepped into the bathtub with him, setting him gently in the thin line of water and kneeling over him. The surface of the water swirled and gained an oily sheen from the gas on their clothes and skin. Aisha adjusted the water, hoping for a miracle.
A loud crash came from the adjacent bedroom and Aisha gasped in alarm. The window had shattered. Was someone out there? Did it break into or out of the room? She breathed heavily, listening for any indication over the noise of the running water. It was barely over her knees. She gripped Daniel tightly, leaning over him on all fours, and slowed the water just slightly.
With a woosh, a crackle of flames sounded through the bathroom door. A surge of panic rushed through her and she turned the water again and again, maxing the fill speed. It splashed in a rush, breaking up the surface sheen and drowning out the noise of the fuel-fed fire. She grabbed her son, splashing him with the small depth in the tub so far. He shivered against her as she saw the first glare of red flame under the door.
The fire moved fast, increasing in noise until the rush of water and flame became one white noise in her ears. Flamed licked under the door and black smoke began to fill the room. She could smell the house burning now. The water level topped her calves.
She lay Daniel on his back and tried to hold him just above the surface of the shallow water. He struggled and cried, uncomfortable on his back with the cold water surrounding him. She pulled him up again, worried that his struggling would belay his safety. A loud crash sounded from the bedroom and the flames grew, now darting around all four edges of the wooden door.
The room was getting hot, even with the cold water on her skin. She tried the knob again and found it wouldn’t budge. The water was lapping at her thighs and Daniel was mostly covered safely if she held him down. The reflection of the fire in the mirror cast red and black lights around the room, giving a demonic cast to the trap they were in. For a moment, Aisha thought they might be safe inside the water of the bath.
That is, until a loud clunk sounded from within the wall behind the tub’s nozzle and the water’s flow cut immediately in half. She shrieked, attempting to turn the broken nozzle and resume the flow, but the pressure in the pipes began to wane. In moments, the discharge faded and halted to a few drips.
She screamed, striking the wall and turning the knob back and forth. That was it, though, the water stopped. She felt under the surface at the drain. There was suction on her hand, pulling the lifesaving water away from her son. It was still filled a third of the capacity. It would have to do.
Fire poured through the door now, out of control and catching on the counter and walls. Aisha was baking in the enclosed space, and black smoke took her breath away. Daniel was coughing and gagging on the poisoned air, and Aisha found herself unable to see anything but the orange-red flames filling the room. The water no longer felt cool, it boiled her skin, and Daniel screamed with every caught breath.
Her world became fire. It filled the room and she could no longer feel anything but heat and pain. Her exposed flesh reddened and blistered against the superheated air. No longer in control, she knelt over her son in the disappearing water and attempted to shield him with her body. The fire gladly consumed her clothing and flesh indiscriminate from the home itself. No longer could she breathe air, as flames burned the remaining gasoline on her body and ate away at her lungs. She collapsed forward on top of Daniel as brimstone filled the small room.
No!
A compelling voice cried out in her head. Her voice. Her voice as a mother refused to allow her son to die without a fight. She stood, splashing the shallow water as the flames hissed against her inadvertent extinguishing movement. She grabbed at the wall, knowing the towel rack and her and Hal’s towels would be within reach. Catching one, she pulled the cotton rectangle back and thrust it into the remaining water.
She wrapped her baby in the wet towel holding him against her chest and stepping out of the tub into the flames.
She stepped into the coals that were her floor and ceiling and walked toward the closed door, invisible in the smoke and flame. Pain tried to bring her to the ground to die, but she refused. She heard a sizzle and knew her hands and hair were cooking and burning away. Despite this, she pushed on. Reaching the door she leaned and drove her shoulder through. Damaged by flames, the wood cracked and burst against the force of her movement. Sparks and coals spluttered in front of her eyes as she strode into the bedroom, knocking the burned dresser forward with her knees. The fire roared, failing to kill the woman as she drove her body through the broken window into the rain-soaked night.
When Aisha escaped the fire she screamed into the rain. The roar of the fire behind her drowned out her voice. She tried in vain to bargain with God. Please, take the fire away. Please make this stop. I pray for Daniel. I pray for Halwende. Her prayers stopped and she huddled the bundle against her damaged body.
Unbelievable heat radiated from her as she picked herself and Daniel back up. The soles of her feet burned the wet grass into blackened curls. She walked forward, into the rain. Each drop felt like a knife in her burned skin. Steam rose from her body as the cooling rain poured over her. Her flesh was raw and red, and her clothing had burned away. She was covered only by Daniel and his now tarnished towel. Aisha had no thought in her mind except to escape the burning house, so she walked over the downed fence and into the woods behind the building.
She had no way to know how far she walked. She continued until the roar of the Neighbors’ fire faded and the blanket of night covered her. She shambled far away, moving among the nightmare creatures wandering in the forest. Past dozens of dead, hundreds maybe. None moved to her. In her mind she begged to die, walking to the dead things until collapsing into a thick copse of wet grass.
She looked at the bundle below her on the forest floor. The towel’s edges had curled and turned black in the heat of the fire. Gray rivulets of rain ran from the fire-damaged cloth. The body inside was still. She couldn’t bear to look at his face, failing like she had to protect him. She stared at his shape inside the wrap.
Dead from flame or drowning, asphyxiation from smoke or smothering mother, it didn’t matter. Her baby was gone. She stared for hours, hoping for some movement. Some sign she hadn’t failed. It didn’t come.
Gray skies lightened with the coming of dawn. The woman began to dig in the earth next to the body of her son, creating a small ditch next to him. She gently moved his body into the shallow grave, moving the earth on top with the burned remains of her hands.
She stood, staggering away from the makeshift funeral without a word. She left her life in that ditch, and in her burned home. She was no longer Aisha Kahn.
She was the Burned Woman.
Chapter 45
- Directive
Directive
“Oh my God, Aisha. Aisha, it’s you. I-- I can’t believe it. All this-- all this time,” Kahn struggled to find words as he pulled his wife into an embrace. “I can’t believe it. Is it really you?” He looked into her scarred face, unable to see the beautiful wife that he thought died months ago.
“It’s me, Hal. It’s really me.” She cast her eyes down. “I lived without a name for a long time. I thought I had forgotten my life prior to being the Burned Woman, but you appeared. You reminded me who I was. You brought me back.”
A wheeze of dead breath interrupted Kahn’s realization. He looked over Aisha’s shoulders to see the first biter vault over the railing into the road. It was an old one, gray and fat with torn skin hanging in strips from each of its limbs. The face was mutilated to the point where it looked inhuman. Missing nose, missing lips, and a missing eye gave it a monstrous appearance. It recovered from the fall slowly, rising on shaky legs and stepping off in a stumble. Kahn could see several more imminently able to cross the barrier.
“We need to go, now!” The
two Kahns had nowhere to go but closer to the fallen restaurant rotunda. Aisha shifted to support her husband’s weight. He was barely able to walk on his own, whatever injury he sustained as they fled and themselves jumped over the highway barrier was almost immobilizing. They were weaponless as they entered the destroyed eatery.
The building itself had melded with the highway surface as it fell. Kahn limped over restaurant detritus as well as broken asphalt from the road itself. It was slow going as they moved into the claustrophobic cave that used to be a tourist destination. The tunnel became a trap as they came to a pile of twisted debris. Aisha let Kahn go and he sunk to the ground in pain, watching behind for the first signs of the dead entering the passage.
She worked to grab and throw pieces of the blockade with burned, gnarled hands. A chair pulled from the sidewall brought chunks of rock and ceiling tile tumbling to the ground. Unable to grip, she dashed her hands against the pieces in an attempt to pull them down. She scraped and struck the pile, only serving to bloody herself. After a minute of fighting with the blockage, she sat heavily next to her husband.
“It’s no use,” he said. “There’s no way out. I can’t fight anymore.” He sighed heavily, listening to undead growls echoing in the oppressive space. Aisha was silent, leaning on Kahn. Movement from the entry became clear. Several shuffling feet, bodies striking the wall, debris scraping as it was shoved. The dead were moments from finding the two huddled together on the broken ground.
“No,” she said. Something burst in her. She felt rage and fire flow through her. Her flesh felt the flames, her lungs burned with hate, and the image of the small bundle that was her son’s murdered body became her whole existence. She stood, pulling Kahn to his feet as the man groaned in pain.
“I can’t,” he sobbed. “Aisha, I’m sorry.”
“I said no,” she replied, voice strong. The strength of the Burned Woman returned as she pulled her husband to the loose pile of wreckage. “You will fight. You will survive. I made it through that fire for a reason. For a long time, I thought that reason was to save our son. I thought I failed. But I was wrong. I was burned to save you.”
Before Kahn could react, Aisha ran her shoulder into his chest. He gasped in shock at the vigor of the diminutive, scarred woman as she shoved with all her might. He was forced into the seemingly immovable wall and he felt pieces of concrete and metal cutting into his back as she continued to thrust into him. It only took a moment for the wall to cave inward, consuming him, and he felt as if the world was caving inward.
She thought of the burning door, escaping with her son through the flames, and she didn’t stop until her husband was falling through the brick and stone. He disappeared into the rubble and she fell to all fours, listening to the building crumble around her. She panted and saw the wall had given way in the center, just enough for Kahn to fall through. She stood, finally ready to meet her approaching death.
Kahn coughed and opened his eyes. He lay on his back in a pile of broken cinder, legs covered but uninjured. He used his arms to scoot away from the wall, seeing what his wife had done. Somehow she had pushed him through the loose debris hard enough for him to fall to the other side. He used the wall to stand, wincing on his painfully damaged ankle, and gaped at the solid wall.
She had shoved him through but the wall fell around him. The pile was taller on this side of the barrier, and pushing or pulling on pieces did nothing to rectify the blockage. It was miraculous that she was able to move any section of this, let alone push her partner through. The hole his body had made was refilled instantly with the remainder from the top and sides. Kahn wiggled a single broken chunk of road away from chest height and tossed it to the side, leaving a gap just wide enough for his fingers to reach through. He frantically pulled at the edge of the small hole, pulling only dust away with each attempt. Panicked, he held his eye to the hole and peered through.
Aisha was there, standing in her stained vestment with her arms wide to each side. Through the billow of the cloth, Kahn could see several of the walking dead. He yelled for her to move, to run, but she either didn’t hear or ignored him. She turned her head slightly, searching for her husband’s eyes through the immutable wall.
“I love you,” she whispered. Now he saw his wife’s face. Through the dust and through the burns, Aisha was there. He couldn’t help as tears sprang from his eyes as he watched the approaching undead. “Think of me. Think of Daniel. Find them.”
“No, Aisha, no!” He threw both hands at the peephole, trying and failing to expand it beyond a few inches more before returning to the view.
The first corpse reached her, biting the air and stumbling over the loose ground. It stepped to her as three more appeared in close succession behind the first. She lowered her arms, unbreakable gaze looking only forward, as they got within striking distance.
Then, she began to walk. She stepped slowly between the bodies. Kahn exhaled sharply, blowing dust through the viewport. The Burned Woman was walking into the horde. She brushed past the first few, bumping shoulders with one, but continued moving. He saw the billow of her thin robe blow over the gray corpses as she kept stepping slowly and steadily forward.
The nearest of the dead turned as she stepped through them. Then, they followed her. Seemingly acting out of instinct, or perhaps seeking out the living flesh of the Burned Woman, the corpses simply turned away from Kahn and fell into step. He could see her now pushing through a crowd of dead, shining brightly among the sea of gray. He cried out when one came to her and sunk its teeth into her arm, taking a piece of flesh. Blood dripped from the wound onto the uneven surface, but she continued to walk. A second creature took a subsequent bite out of the same side, pulling with his teeth until a string of skin and muscle tore away from her body. Soon, more were biting her. Both arms, her calves, and finally one bloody mouthful from her shoulder. Through it all, she slowly walked forward. Even as her own blood turned the edges of the robe crimson, she continued her silent journey.
He watched until she disappeared from view.
Kahn shook his head, sinking to the ground. They hadn’t frenzied toward her. They didn’t tear her to pieces. They just-- followed her, taking small bites. It was almost as if the dead showed the same reverence her own people had. Mourning again, for a person he had already mourned, he leaned on the wall crying silent tears for his lost wife.
It took several minutes before Kahn could think about survival. He craned his neck around, checking his surroundings and finding an open path to the northbound lanes of the highway behind. Broken cars were strewn here, the ones nearest the fallen tower were torn wreckage, but as he looked further he saw the typical loose traffic jam of abandoned vehicles. The walkway was clear enough to travel by foot. It was probably clear enough to drive through, slowly, if he could find a working vehicle. At the very least he would be able to limp away. He could escape. Aisha did this, somehow, she gave him the chance. He would use it to find the Neighbors, find Llewelyn.
He gingerly pulled himself back to his feet, careful to avoid putting weight on his injury. Without thinking, he looked again into the small hole through the wall of debris.
A dead face looked back. Kahn jumped back and the corpse hissed loudly through the hole. The injured man took a few limping steps backwards, keeping an eye on the hole. Gray fingers poked through, wiggling and searching for prey. After a moment, the fingers pulled back and the dead voice silenced.
The wall suddenly shook. Dust rattled off the irregularly shaped debris and a few small stones bounced to the floor. The shaking continued. It wasn’t the building, Kahn realized. It was a mass of bodies pressing into the collection of debris. How many were back there? How many would it take to topple it?
Just like Aisha had, the undead pushed into the barrier. The front bodies were crushed as dozens more pressed into them, instinctively driving toward the living target through the blockage. Kahn continued to back slowly away, watching the pieces begin to shift and fall as more and more
dead drove their weight forward.
“Oh shit,” he said to himself as the center of the wall shifted and began to cave outward. He waited too long, he squandered the chance Aisha gave him to escape. Now the group of dead would catch him and kill him. Her sacrifice was in vain.
The remaining pieces of the restaurant seemed to shake as the group finally pushed through. The first half-dozen were crushed as they were pressed through the obstacle by others behind. On instinct, the rear of the group flooded through the small gap one by one until there were a string of figures filling the space in front of Kahn. He turned, limping heavily out of the shadow of the building and into the sun-drenched surface of the highway.
He lost count, but it looked like at least twenty of the dead things had made it through the broken restaurant and followed him into the road. He stepped past the half-crushed wreckage of a red van and a trapped creature inside lunged at him through the closed window. It frantically dug at the glass and Kahn caught a glimpse of the cooked flesh, roasted in the heat of the sun inside the vehicle. A quick look over his shoulder revealed several of his followers were bumping past the crushed cars and gaining on him. He skirted around another smashed truck and sped into a wide-open lane as quickly as he could.
For a moment, Kahn felt a tinge of hope. In the open road, even limping drastically, he thought he could outrun the old horde. New ones were more agile, but this group seemed to be stumbling slowly as a group. He was thinking on this saving grace as he leaned on a southbound car for support. Putting a little too much weight on the mirror, the piece broke off in his hand. He stumbled, trying to catch himself and instead putting his entire body weight onto the sprained joint. A loud snapping sound exploded from his leg.
Crying out, he fell hard to the pavement. The side mirror bounced from his hands into the middle of the lane. His pulse pounded in his ears and tunnel vision began to close around the view of the blue sky above. He was paralyzed by pain and in disbelief at the deadly situation. Rushing sounds came from deep within his mind. The pounding rhythm of blood turned to rushing rain and roaring flames. He saw Aisha, as she was before the fire, holding Daniel and screaming as the Neighbor dragged her away and into their doomed home. In Kahn’s vision, her killer swelled into a hulking, faceless monster. Instead of bringing her inside, he squeezed her arm in his fist. The exterior of the house faded, the ground fell away, and Kahn was alone in blackness with only Aisha’s screams echoing in his mind. As he watched, even the Neighbor faded away, leaving only a black mark on her bicep where he had held her.
Nation Undead (Book 2): Collusion Page 30