This Dying World (Book 2): Abandon All Hope

by James D. Dean

  “Sure, just as soon as I get back,” I answered, shooting her a wry smile before I exited the bus.

  I glanced over toward Chris as soon as my boots touched the concrete. He was on his knees, his back to me as he scrubbed pools of bleach into the yellow pus like substance that escaped the screamer’s brain. The smell was marginally better, the heavy chlorine odor cutting through the gut tumbling stench.

  Lexi stood a short distance away, her eyes locked on the heavy doors as they bowed and swayed under the pressure of what had to be several zombies outside.

  Lexi glanced over in my direction, shaking her head in frustration when she saw me. I winked at her before I crept toward the front of the bus and out of Chris’ line of sight. He would see me as soon as I hit the stairs, but by that point it would be too late for him to do anything about it.

  Chris turned away from his filthy pool the second the steps creaked under my weight. He glared at me, his arms up as if to say what the hell. I shot him a mock salute as I ascended. It was hard to tell from the distance, but I swear his hands were inching towards his rifle.

  I was honestly surprised he didn’t just expect me to do exactly what I was doing. I mean it’s written plain as day on my user manual. Do not leave unattended for any period of time…ever.

  There was a small issue I had not planned for, not that I planned anything other than defying my brother. It was one of those times that Abby would have deemed a Dan Moment. Usually, I don’t have well thought out ideas. Instead, I have several pieces of a working plan that all get filed into my mental inbox out of order. Once those pieces get put together into a coherent thought, usually a good idea will emerge.

  However, I am very impatient. So while my brain is processing everything in that mental inbox, my body more or less says fuck it, let’s do this.

  So, let’s go through the list. Figure out how to carry my rifle and push through the pain in my palms…check. Sneak out of the bus without Chris stopping me…yup. Make it to the stairway without Lexi ratting me out…done. Mock my brother and piss him off in the process…oh, big ole check. Remember that I am heading to a floor unannounced where three heavily armed men are stressed to shit and willing to shoot anything that moves…umm, whoops.

  Ladies and gentlemen…a Dan Moment.

  The dusty floor of the upper level creaked as soon as I put weight on it. I froze, my heart pounding like a machinegun as the three men spun in unison, weapons raised and pointed directly at my face. I actually wondered which muzzle flash I would see first when Matt lowered his rifle, grabbing his chest and panting.

  “Buddy, you are one lucky son of a bitch!” Joe gasped as he lowered his own pistol. “I almost killed you! What the hell are you doing up here?!”

  “Right now? I’m shitting myself!” I gasped once my lungs decided to work again.

  “Dude!” Matt snapped. “What the hell, man?”

  “Hey, Mark,” I said when I suddenly noticed he had not lowered his rifle. “It’s me.”

  “I know,” he answered gruffly. “I’m still making up my mind.”

  “I owe you a pack of smokes if you promise not to shoot me,” I said.

  “Make it a carton,” he said lowering his weapon. “Besides, I don’t want to shoot you. I wouldn’t want to take that opportunity from Chris.”

  “Man,” I sighed. “I can feel the love up here. Find anything worthwhile?”

  “Not much,” Joe replied, holstering his weapon. “We were heading back to the other side to check out a couple offices over there before you decided to give Matt a heart attack. It looks like that’s where that family holed up until they turned.”

  “You sure it was a family?” I asked, swallowing hard.

  “Yeah, we’re sure,” Mark replied. “Looks like the mom brought pictures. I found one on the floor. They looked nice, not that it matters anymore.”

  “No,” I said sadly. “I suppose not.”

  “Why don’t we head down and get everyone up here,” Matt said, still trying to catch his breath.

  “You go ahead,” I said. “Mind if I borrow your flashlight, I want to check out those offices.”

  “Sure thing,” Joe replied, handing me his light. “We cleared them already. There’s only two rooms. Dan, one of ‘em’s bad.”

  I nodded and started toward the other side of the room.

  “Two cartons,” Mark said as he passed me.

  “If I find a case, they’re yours.”

  I waited to hear them on the steps before proceeding toward the far end of the room. The walls were lined with large window openings, the glass long since removed. A sheet of plastic hanging from wall to wall divided the room, duct taped to the ceiling and weighted down along the bottom with cinder blocks. It moved in and out, as if the plastic itself was breathing. A slit was cut in the center of the sheet that spanned four feet up from the floor, acting like a sort of tent flap.

  The air warmed slightly as I stepped through the flap and into the still air on the other side. It appeared that the same plastic that divided the room had also been used to seal up the window openings along the wall. Although still frigid, the lack of wind blowing into the space gave a small level of comfort.

  The rotting smell of death lingered in the air like a memory, tickling at my olfactory senses, but not overwhelming them. It was old and faint, as if winter had done its best to smother the unnatural taint from the frigid winds.

  Three sleeping bags and two deflated air mattresses were rolled into a bundle in the middle of the room, a small duffle bag sitting beside them. Several toys and children’s books were scattered about, with piles of clothes strewn about. I made a mental note to look through the duffle after I searched the offices.

  I started toward the offices to have my own look around, then stopped. I couldn’t quite place it, but something about the room wasn’t right. Not that anything about a room that looked like a third world refugee camp could be called right. When my eyes fell upon the rolls of bedding, it hit me. We had killed four zombies.

  There were five beds.

  I almost dropped the flashlight when I brought the rifle up. Blood oozed through the bandage, coating the grip of my rifle as it trickled over my fingers and down my arm. I doubted Joe and the rest would have missed anything in the vacant space, but I wasn’t in a gambling mood.

  The wall was a simple plaster structure that had held up surprisingly well in the exposed elements. There were deep gouges in it that exposed sections of wooden slats, but overall they were intact. Sitting on either side of the lone doorway were the only unbroken windows in the entire building.

  I tapped on the window on the right, waiting for any sounds of movement. After a few seconds, I shined the flashlight through the smoky glass, peering into the dusty darkness within. The room was empty, save for a lone wooden crate sitting against the wall.

  I moved to the left window, again tapping on the glass and waiting. When I looked inside, I instantly wished that I hadn’t.

  It wasn’t until my flashlight hit the darkened window that I saw the dozens of tiny rust colored handprints on the other side. Trails of blood smeared across the glass, droplets of dried crimson pooled into a sticky mess at its base.

  I swallowed hard and moved through the doorway and into the narrow hall that separated the two rooms. Doorways without actual doors faced each other from opposite sides of the short hall. I looked into the room on my right before facing the horror that I knew was in the other. It was completely empty, except for a small green notepad with a pen on the floor next to the box.

  I steeled myself, and turned toward the other office. A section of plywood had been pulled in front of the doorway, reinforced with more cinder blocks. The board had been pulled away, leaving enough space for a person…living or dead…to escape. When I peered inside, I discovered the reason for the fifth bed.

  The floors and walls were painted with blood, as if someone had poured out a bucket of red paint all over the floor. Skeletal remains lay
twisted and torn, the bone picked clean of meat and chewed to splinters. A skull lay on its side in the corner, the bone smashed in exposing the brain cavity. Fragments of dried meat still clung to the jagged bone, stretching across where its face once was. The faded yellow walls were coated in red, trails of it reaching just up to my shoulder, ending in tiny handprints.

  Just high enough for a little girl.

  I backed away from it until my back hit the opposite wall. A crack below my foot drew my gaze away from the horror show as I looked down to see the remains of the pen I had just stepped on, sending a smear of blue ink across the notepad cover. I picked the pad up, reading Property of Greyden Tyler on its cover. Grasping at any distraction from the horror mere feet away, I flipped open the pages to find journal entries written inside.

  “Find something?” Chris’ voice nearly sent me into a full blown panic attack.

  “Still with the startling me thing, huh?” I panted.

  “Don’t see why that would ever change,” he answered. “Just like you never listening to a thing I tell you. Like stay on the damn bus!”

  “Are you really that surprised?”

  “Not really,” he replied dryly. “But stranger things have happened. So, what did you find?”

  “Looks like a journal,” I replied. “Maybe it will tell us what happened in there.” I nodded toward the opposite office. Chris turned, shining his light into the room. He looked back at me, eyes widened in horror.

  “Christ!” he gasped, holding his stomach and leaning against the wall. “Anna! This whole area is off limits! Especially with the kids. No one needs to be over here.”

  “Everyone already up here?” I asked, trying to distract him.

  “Yeah,” he exhaled.

  “What happened with the bleach,” I said, sitting down on the crate in the corner.

  “It seemed to do the trick,” he replied after he composed himself. “Lexi went to a window to watch what the zeds were up to. She says they started attacking the screamer’s body once the smell downstairs was killed off.”

  “So there’s something about the smell from those things that attracts them.”

  “Seems that way. She also found how these people got in.”

  “I thought they got here the same way we did.”

  “It took six of us to open that door,” he said. “No way the two adults and two kids did it. There’s some trees near the outside walls. It looks like they used a couple ladders to build some scaffolding between the trees and one of the windows. They used a rope ladder to get everyone up to the tree branches. Pretty ingenious actually.”

  “Five,” I said.

  “Five what?” he raised an eyebrow at me.

  “There were five of them,” I said, nodding toward the bloodbath.

  “Ah. Yeah, I suppose there were. You okay?”

  “I know you guys have seen this already,” I said. “But I haven’t done any real scavenging yet. The worst I’ve seen was the squad car the second day. I’ve never seen…that.”

  “We’ve seen a few places,” he sighed. “But none of us are used to it. I’d be worried about anyone who does get accustomed to it.”

  “I guess,” I said, setting my rifle against the wall. I examined the gauze bandage wrapped around my hands. Both had soaked through, blood oozing from the edges and down my wrists.

  “Rosa wants to take a look at that,” Chris said as he righted himself, hefting his rifle over his shoulder. “There’s a duffle bag out there full of medicine. Fever reducers, cough suppressants, you name it. There’s some prescription antibiotics in there too. It looks like one of the kids was pretty sick when they got here.”

  “I think I might actually listen to you for once,” I joked. “My hands sting like a bitch. It is a shame to not use these offices, they are a bit warmer.”

  “We have that covered. It looks like whoever these people were, they came somewhat prepared. There’s a small hobo stove out there. It was hanging outside one of the windows. I’m guessing they did that to keep the embers from burning up the floor while they slept. It’s not much, but we won’t freeze to death.”

  “Well then,” I said as I made my way to my feet. “All we need is a deck of cards to pass the time.”

  “As long as it’s a quiet game,” he replied. “We need to wait these things out before we can start thinking about bus repairs. We brought a lot of tools in the truck, but not everything we need to get the beast roadworthy again. We’ll either have to scavenge a bit or just start removing things and fix them later.”

  “No chance there’s an all night body shop that caters to post-apocalyptic vehicle repair nearby?” I asked.

  “If there was, I wouldn’t know. I have no idea where we’re at,” Chris said. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and sighing. “I have no idea where we’re going either. I hoped we would have some time to decide before leaving, but that didn’t happen.”

  “I had a thought about that,” I said. “We’re going to the hill.”

  “The hill?” Chris asked. “You mean Kentucky?”

  “Exactly,” I replied.

  “Why there?”

  “Think about it,” I started. “There’s a creek at its base and you can only get to the houses by crossing a bridge, so it’s easy to protect. The rest of the mountain is too steep for those things to climb. Plus there’s more population in a local Walmart than there is in that entire region.”

  “Okay, that’s an idea. I think we should run it by everyone before we decide,” he said. “Is that why you jammed that picture of the hill into my mantle?”

  “Pretty much,” I answered. “I sent out that text the first night to everyone I know telling them where I was going.”

  “Yeah, I remember. I also remember you owing me a case of beer for that!”

  “I brought beer!” I defended myself.

  “That wasn’t beer. That was punishment for a crime I didn’t know I committed.”

  “Anyway,” I sighed. “I was thinking with all the time that’s passed, there’s a chance someone else picked up one of those phones. Who knows who will show up at the farm eventually.”

  “If they do, they’re in for a nasty surprise right now,” he smiled.

  “Well, yeah. There’s that. But I figured anyone who really knows us would know what that picture means. Otherwise, people who don’t know us would just assume someone crazy was living there and stabbing random pictures in the wall.”

  “Well, to be honest, someone crazy was living there. But you moved out,” he chided.

  “Don’t you have a refugee camp to get situated?” I asked sarcastically.

  “We’re doing fine by ourselves,” Rosa suddenly appeared behind Chris. Before either of us could stop her, she glanced over into the horror in the opposite room. “Oh God,” she gasped, making the sign of the cross.

  “Rosa!” I shot over to her, putting my arm around her and leading her away.

  Rosa buried her face into my shoulder, soaking my jacket with tears. Joe came through the plastic wall flap as we crossed the center of the room. He shot toward her, looking at me with an accusatory look.

  “She saw the office,” I whispered.

  His features softened as he realized that I was not responsible for her emotional state…this time. He wrapped her in his gorilla arms, enveloping her in a loving embrace. Fortunately, I saw it coming and was able to duck out of the way before I got wrapped up too. Now don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with the bro hug. But I have no desire to get crushed between a crying woman and her loving boyfriend. Three’s a crowd and all.

  I walked away, giving the two of them their space. Though I was feeling slightly better emotionally, for the time being anyway, watching them together always led my mind back to when Abby and I started dating. In the past they were happy thoughts, but I wasn’t ready to take that stroll down memory lane yet. The pain of losing her was still there, and still very raw.

  I walked over to one of the pla
stic covered windows, peeling it back to try and get a better idea of what was happening outside. Darkened shadows stretched across the snowy landscape as heavy clouds rolled in, blocking the silvery moonlight.

  The creatures were barely visible in the darkness as they piled on top of each other in a mass of dead flesh. Their snarling growls broke through the otherwise silent night as they devoured the remains of the little black-eyed girl. My stomach roiled when I heard the muted snap of bones, the creatures slurping up blood and smacking lips as they chewed.

  It was not the first time I had watched them feed. The first couple days of this nightmare was filled with enough cannibalistic horror on display to make a New York City sewer worker toss his cookies. But this was different. They weren’t just feeding. They were feral, tearing at the little monster’s flesh as if in a full blown rage. But rage required some thought, some tangible connection to emotions that were reserved for living breathing creatures.

  “Maybe instinct?” I whispered to myself.

  “Dude,” Matt said. “I know I haven’t showered in a little while, but you don’t smell like apple pie yourself.”

  “What?!” I turned slowly to face him.

  “You don’t have to say I stink, man. It’s not cool.”

  “I said instinct,” I chuckled. “You been smoking that shit again, haven’t you?”

  “I wish,” he replied with a smile. “Why, you have some?”

  “Sorry bud, I left it in my other pants,” I quipped.

  “Bummer,” he replied with genuine disappointment. “What’cha got there?” Matt pointed at the notebook.

  “Not sure really,” I answered. “I think it’s a journal of the people that were here. I thought I would do some light reading while we’re trapped here at the Hotel California.”

  “I don’t know man,” he said leaning against the cold bricks next to the window. “Seems wrong to go poking through someone else’s journal. Especially after we just, you know, offed them.”

  “I get that, but I don’t think they’ll care much anymore.”

  “I guess,” he said. “How you holding up, dude?”