Life After Death

by Jenkins, Seb

  “Okay seriously J, you’re freaking me out now, what the fuck is going on?” Max asked, attempting to take control of the situation.

  “I’ll start at the beginning,” John said, clearly traumatised and still on edge.

  “About 2 weeks ago, reports started coming through on all the news channels of this new deadly blood borne disease sweeping its way through Europe. Most people ignored it, saying it was just another craze of paranoia about nothing, but then it started spreading. Within a week there were reported cases in America, Africa, Australia…and now Britain. The government said they had it under control, that there was nothing to worry about, but it just went so badly so quickly. They started issuing vaccinations by letters, but that was scrapped within a day or two and it became first come first serve. Not that they seemed to work. People who got this… this disease, started to change. It was like…like they weren’t themselves anymore. Grace caught it, she was one of the early cases. I would have come sooner Max, I really would, but I had to stay with my wife. At first she just grew weak… I think we both…I think we both knew that she was nearing the end. You couldn’t get through to the doctors or hospitals see, you couldn’t. I tried Max, believe me I tried! I was with her at the end, she kind of drifted into a deep sleep, you know? It was peaceful. It was what she wanted. A few minutes passed by, I was still clutching her hand, crying into her chest, when I started feeling her move again, started feeling her heart beat; she was still alive. When I sat up and looked into her eyes, I could see something was wrong….” John trailed off into a sob, wiping his now bloodshot eyes and blinking back the tears.

  “What do you mean something was wrong John? She made it…didn’t she John?” Max asked, trying to sound as comforting as possible, but he needed answers.

  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and if it wasn’t for the shivering wreck of a man in front of him he probably wouldn’t have believed it for a second.

  John looked up again and composed himself.

  “I looked into her eyes…they were open but there was no life there. They just looked dead, full of nothingness. Then suddenly…it all happened so fast see…it was over before I knew what had happened Max. Believe me I didn’t mean it, I had to…”

  “What did you do John?” Max demanded, now grabbing his brothers shoulders to steady him.

  “She jolted upright, so fast, with more strength than she had shown in days. It knocked me backwards into the table and I just sat there, confused, terrified. She was looking at me…I know it sounds crazy…but she was looking at me with those eyes as if she didn’t know me, as if she wanted to hurt me. She jumped on top of me, I didn’t know what to do, she was trying to bite me Max, actually trying to bite me. I shouted her name, but I don’t think there was any of Grace left in there. I hope there wasn’t any of Grace left in there. I had heard reports of this on the news, but I didn’t believe it until I saw it. She was gone. I…you have to understand, I thought she was going to kill me, she was trying to tear into my flesh with those teeth, and those eyes looked so primal. I had to do it. I had to end it…I had to,” John forced out the last few words but he could not continue.

  He jumped up and ran to the bathroom, retching into the toilet bowl.

  He didn’t need to finish, Max understood, it was clear that John had killed his wife. Max couldn’t get his head round any of what he had just heard, he just sat in silence. When his brother returned, now visibly shaking and covered in his own sick, Max knew that now, more than ever, John needed his older brother.

  “M…Max, we need to leave, it isn’t safe here okay, just trust me,” John whispered quietly, clearly still in shock.

  Max couldn’t argue, his brother knew more about what was happening outside than he did, he would have to trust him.

  “Let me pack a bag John, okay? Just wait here, it’s all going to be alright okay?”

  “Look at me John!” Max said.

  John did as he was told and looked up.

  “It is going to be okay,” Max said reassuringly; despite not knowing himself if it were really true.

  He scrambled around the apartment, finding a ratty, old green backpack and throwing some random clothes into it, along with whatever food he could find left in the cupboards.

  John was still in shock, unresponsive and looking paler by the second. Reliving the last moments with his wife had clearly taken its toll. Max hauled John across to the door and edged it open bit by bit, unsure of what to expect. The corridor seemed to be empty, so he pulled on his backpack, with one arm around John and shuffled out of the door.

  “Oh shit, I forgot something. Wait here okay John,” Max ordered, propping his brother up against the door frame.

  He ran back into the living room, frantically searching underneath the piles of rubbish. He felt a pinch and retracted his hand quickly, seeing a small cut on his little finger.

  As he licked the wound, he moved a few empty cans and found a broken photo frame hidden among them. He slipped out the photo; the only family photo he owned of his parents, John and himself.

  “Look John! We couldn’t leave without this could we,” Max said, waving the photo in the air.

  John turned, looked over and smiled for the first time since he arrived. As Max gently placed the photo into the front pocket of his bag, he heard footsteps coming from the hallway behind him.

  “Wait for me John! I’ll only be a second!” Max called out over his shoulder.

  He zipped up the bag and hopped to his feet, turning to run after his fragile brother. John was still stood in the doorway, barely conscious of anything happening around him. Max could still hear the sluggish, echoing footsteps coming from the corridor and he opened his mouth to scream for his brother to get back inside, but it was too late.

  A silhouetted figure appeared behind John, grabbing his shoulders and sinking his teeth into the flesh on the side of his neck. Blood spurted out of the wound as the teeth sank further and further into the flesh. John let out a blood curdling scream, as the assailant bundled him over into the flat. Max was stunned, but snatched up a nearby chair and smashed it on the ground. Grabbing the nearest chuck of wood, he sprinted at his brother’s attacker and cracked the chair leg across his head in one aggressive strike.

  The figure didn’t even flinch. Max could now see the attacker in the light, and recoiled in horror. The man’s hair had all but fallen out, with only a few wisps surviving on the top of his yellowed head. His skin was dry and peeling, with one gash to the left side of his head where Max had struck him.

  The wound looked deep. Splinters poked out from underneath the blood. The man was unfazed; he appeared not to feel a thing. His eyes looked so animalistic, focused on John’s neck and nothing else as he tore further into the skin, now using his long, dirty nails to rip the flesh away. It was like a lion ripping away at the dead carcass of its prey. But John wasn’t dead, he was screaming in absolute agony, powerless to stop what was happening. The cries were ringing in Max’s ears, but he remained planted to the spot in a terrified trance.

  Max clicked back into action and tore the man off his brother, throwing him back into the table behind him. He began to pummel the attacker with the chair leg, again and again, harder and harder. Max could feel his own hand splintering and bleeding, but he kept hitting the man in the face, until it resembled no more than a bloody, featureless pile of mush. His whole head had caved in, and the man had finally stopped moving.

  What had he done? Had he just killed a man? Was he even still a man? It was self-defence, Max thought; he had to do it, didn’t he?

  Max’s hands were trembling as he looked down at his bloody fingers. He dropped the chair leg to the floor, unable to comprehend what he had just done.

  It didn’t matter now, Max told himself.

  He was dead, if you could call whatever he was a few seconds before alive. Max quickly shut the door and turned to his brother.

  His eyes were transfixed on his younger sibling’s neck. The wou
nd had split the side of his neck open, and dark, thick blood was spewing from the gash like a fountain. Max’s shaking hands clasped around the cut, but there was no stopping the flow of red, emulating from John’s neck.

  Max didn’t know how to save him. It was tearing him apart inside.

  “It’s too late Max. I’m a dead man. I’m one of them now,” John uttered with an eerie sense of calm.

  Chapter Three

  Max ignored his brother’s comment, assuming that in all the shock and panic he had become confused.

  Although the two brothers hadn’t spoken much recently, they had always been close growing up. John had idolised his older brother when they were kids, constantly wanting to copy everything he did. As they grew up, things kind of shifted the other way. John got a job in TV, which he loved; he was wealthy and settled down with a family. Max wished he had done the same, but he had a chance to be there for his brother again, now that he really needed him.

  Max felt ashamed that he hadn’t spent more time with John over the past few years. He had always meant to move out nearer to his little brother and be a part of the family again; now he might not get that chance.

  It was true that John was always the dependant one, but Max hadn’t realised until now how much he needed his brother too.

  “C’mon get up John! We need to get you to a hospital!” he shouted at his little brother, grabbing him underneath his good arm.

  “Max…” John started calmly, with his brother still frantically trying to hoist him to his feet.

  “Max…” he said again, but Max continued to force John up.

  “MAX! Look at me!” John finally screamed, wriggling his arm out of Max’s grasp.

  “Max, I’ve read about this…I’ve seen this, it doesn’t end well for me. There’s nothing you can do anymore except leave. Leave and survive!” John yelled, brushing away his tears.

  “Don’t be stupid John! It’s a flesh wound, with doctors nowadays they’ll fix you up in no time” Max replied, not truly listening to what his brother was trying to explain.

  Max ran to the kitchen to fetch a tea towel before pressing it tightly against his brother’s wound. The towel was soon stained red with blood dripping onto the floor. It was more than a flesh wound. John was growing visibly weaker, but carried on explaining as if it was a mosquito bite.

  “The vaccinations seemed to work for some people, but there simply weren’t enough Max. You don’t know how hard it was for me just to get one! All I know is that without it, if you get bitten, your body slowly shuts itself down…and then…and then you turn into one of…them,” John explained, spitting out the last word.

  “But you’ve had a vaccination John! It might work for you! Don’t give up on me mate!” Max shot back urgently.

  “They don’t work on everyone, and besides…I never even used it,” John said, looking down at the floor.

  “What do you mean you never used it?” Max questioned.

  John nodded slowly towards the bag he had brought with him, clearly trying to hold back the excruciating pain he was in. His face was strained and he had bit his lip so hard it began to bleed.

  Max scrambled over to the bag, still unsure of what his brother was trying to explain. He unzipped the top and fumbled around, pulling out clothes and food until his hand wrapped around a long, thin box. He opened it, looking at his brother for an explanation but nothing came. Removing the layers of material and padding within, Max retrieved a glass syringe full of a glistening orange liquid.

  “This is the vaccine?” he asked with excitement, jumping up and running over to his brother, ready to inject it into his arm.

  “No!” John shouted angrily

  “Max I’ve been bitten. It’s too late for me, the vaccination may have worked but it’s no good after I’m already infected. I’m sorry,” John cried.

  “Then why the fuck didn’t you use it?” Max barked

  “I couldn’t get hold of you Max. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead, or if you had managed to get vaccinated yourself. Truth is…I brought it here for you,” John said, clearly growing weaker and weaker.

  “You idiot. You fucking idiot John!” Max wept, hitting his brother repeatedly.

  “I don’t want to live in a world without Grace Max, but there’s still something out there for you, there’s still someone out there for you. So take it,” John whispered.

  John cautiously unwrapped Max’s fingers and took the syringe, poking the razor sharp point into his brother’s arm and pushing the orange liquid out until nothing remained. Max did not resist, maybe because of shock, maybe because he had finally accepted what his brother had told him.

  “Max, I don’t have long left okay. You need to get your things and get out of here. Go and find other survivors and stay safe brother,” John strained.

  Max sniffed and blinked back the tears and said, “I want to say here with you first, until…until the end.”

  “I don’t want you to see me like that Max, and believe me that is not how you want to remember me. Please just go!” John urged

  “I just wan-” Max began to argue

  “No! Just do this one thing for me Max! Just go, please!” John yelled as loud as he could, recoiling from the immediate pain.

  Max softly hugged his brother and nodded. He couldn’t argue with his dying wish. Anger surged through every part of his body; anger and sadness. He would not show it in front of his brother, not now. He had to be the brave one for once.

  Max snatched up his bag and searched around his apartment for additional essentials. Extra clothes and food were carefully packed. Max was taking more time than he needed, as he couldn’t yet bring himself to leave John behind. It occurred to him that he may need weapons for fending these monsters off, so he packed knives from the kitchen and fetched an old baseball bat from underneath his bed.

  As he turned back towards where his brother lay almost motionless on the floor in a dark, deep red pool of his own blood, Max stumbled and lost his footing. He looked down at the dirty floor to see his gun, which had fallen from the table in all the commotion. He stepped sheepishly over towards his brother and gently shook him, fearing that he may have already slipped away, but John’s eyes flicked open once more.

  “You know…you don’t have to become one of those, one of those things John,” Max said softly, not knowing how to say what he really wanted to suggest.

  He raised the gun into his brother’s eye line, but John simply shook his head and laughed.

  “You hold on to that mate, never know when you might need it,” he said.

  Max slipped it into the top of his bag, and looked back at his brother, “Listen John, you know I…”

  “I know Max,” John said before Max could find the words.

  “Me too,” he smiled.

  Max looked down at the baseball bat, it was made from expensive varnished wood and had been gifted to the boys by their grandfather when they were young. Gold, engraved letters glimmered down the middle of the bat, reading simply ‘For Max and John’.

  “Do you remember when Grandad gave us this John? We used to play that stupid game against the kids across the street,” Max reminisced.

  “Undefeated champion’s bro,” John chuckled, his laugh quickly turning into a cough as blood dribbled down his chin.

  “I remember that one time…” Max started but was quickly interrupted by his brother.

  “Max, stop delaying it, you know you have to leave.”

  Max opened his mouth to argue but was swiftly shut down by his dying brother.

  “Go now! Please!” John continued, pushing Max up with what little strength he had left.

  It felt as if there was this infinite weight on Max’s shoulders as he struggled back to his feet. His little brother, slowly dying in his arms, was begging him to leave him. It was the single hardest thing Max had ever done.

  He stumbled to his feet, his entire body a shaking mess at the prospect of saying a final goodbye to the one pe
rson left he could call family. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but he knew he had to leave. He couldn’t bear to see what came next, and John didn’t want him to.

  As Max opened the door to leave, John called out, “Oh and Max, one more thing!”

  “Anything,” Max smiled.

  “...survive,” John whispered as his eyes finally shut for the last time.

  Chapter Four

  Max shut his apartment door behind him, leaving with it the memory of the gut-wrenching horrors he had witnessed in the past hour. He knew immediately that he would never return to this dark crypt; his brothers resting place. It had cast a dark shadow upon everything associated with it.

  Max lashed out at the old, wooden door, his body swollen with rage that didn’t want to show in front of his brother. The wood chipped and splintered with every kick and every punch as Max let out a monstrous scream until his throat was hoarse. He snatched up his baseball bat and swung it as hard as he could, smashing next door’s plant pots, bending the railings on the balcony and causing as much destruction as he possibly could.

  It should have been him to die in that apartment, he thought. What did John ever do to deserve this? After everything in sight had been smashed or broken, Max’s body ached and he crumpled onto the floor in a heap of trembling tears. He had always struggled showing his true emotions, hence why he lashed out with such force. But he could not contain himself any longer. He sat on the ground, still in shock, slowly rocking back and forth while uttering his dead brother’s name under his breath.

  Max had no idea how long he was sat there, but the icy winter chill eventually crept its way to his bones. He knew it was time for him to leave, and John’s last words rang through his ears like crashing church bells. Survive…survive…survive.

  “Looking out for me even though you’re dead; only you could do that you little fucker,” Max said quietly with a chuckle.