Seven Days Dead

by Christopher Johnson

  "Look, I don't have all the answers, old man. We get the weapons first, without them we are severely fucked," he saw the man's daughter flinch a little at the curse,

  "eh…screwed”, Why should I care about a naughty word? People are being eaten, “and then we formulate a plan from a position of relative safety. Maybe you should be a little more hopeful.” he finished with a meaningful glance toward the girl.

  "Yes. Of course. I'm sorry.” the man looked genuinely embarrassed and his arm tightened around the shoulders of his daughter.

  Admittedly, Tal had no real idea of where to go, or for that matter if the guns were even there. Or how long they'd be safe. Or how the hell he'd get to ‘whereverland’ with this motley group of people who only survived because of luck. Speaking of which… best officially meet the new recruits.

  "Alright. My name is Tal. This is John and Christine from Ohio", he looked at the older man and his daughter and nodded toward the husband and wife, "You all know Seren Levi, pinnacle of Israeli Army leadership, currently unconscious in the back of the truck. Who are you?"

  "I'm…uh Ben Cohen" the man swallowed and said in English, presumably for John and Christine's benefit, "and this is my daughter Isabella." At hearing her name, the still trembling girl tried a small smile and hooked a few loose strands of shoulder length brown hair behind her ear. She was wearing jeans and sneakers with a black hoodie over a dark green tanktop.

  "Cohen huh?" Tal said.

  "Yes, we came by it honestly. Our ancestors from way back were Sanhedrin. My grandfather was a rabbi, so was my father. I used to be, until my wife passed. Now I sell carpet." Ben had a look in his eyes Tal might almost have called a challenge, but if anyone could understand losing one's faith, it was Tal.

  "Alright, so now that's done. We need to get moving up the wadi. We need to get into the desert and move to the north a little. That road", Tal pointed over their heads at a road that branched off from the cul de sac to the left, "would have put us closer, but I can't be sure that the dead aren't in those houses. We head up, get the guns, and come back."

  "And the captain?" Ben hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the inert form of Levi.

  "Shut him in the truck till we get back." Tal replied.

  "What if we don't come back? Or there's a problem? We should bring him with." Clearly Ben was possessed of a bleeding heart.

  Then the dead will have a meal and we get a distraction.

  "If you want to carry him, be my guest. But you fall behind because of that joker and it's your problem." There was no love lost on Tal's part for the captain; he was still agitated over the man's stupid refusal to use common sense back in the City.

  John exchanged a brief glance with his wife and turned to Ben, "I'll help you carry him."

  Aww, how sweet. And stupid.

  "You said ‘the dead’, are they dead? How is that possible?" Isabella spoke meekly, clearly still shook up from the dramatic flight from Jerusalem.

  "Best not to dwell on it, for now. Won't make a bit of difference if we knew anyway. They are, we aren't, and the best use of our time is keeping it that way." If she got to thinking too much about it, Tal knew she'd become unhinged and therefore a liability. Not that a 16? 17? year old girl was likely to be some undead killing ninja in disguise.

  Tal looked at all their faces and saw he was as close to getting a consensus as he was likely to get. John and Ben moved to slide Levi out of the truck and onto John's shoulders in a fireman's carry, and discussed when they'd trade out. Isabella looked nervously at everyone and moved closer to Christine, the only other woman, who smiled reassuringly. Tal retrieved his pack from the cab of the truck, shifted his pistol from his back to the front of his waist band, and shouldered the bag.

  My new squad, he thought, I am so screwed.

  And with that, he began walking toward the wadi.

  Chapter Five

  Whispers.

  "Dad, is he Israeli, or an Arab?" Yes.

  Always with the whispering, like there's

  any point.

  "I think he's Israeli, sweetheart. He talks

  like he was in the military."

  True.

  "But he looks like he's an Arab." Also true.

  Why don't people learn? That breathy

  overtone, the higher pitch to the voice, the

  serpentine 's's…it's obvious they're whispering.

  And obvious that they are trying to hide

  something. Both of which are the exact opposite

  of the point of whispering. Trudging along the

  downward slope toward the ruins of the

  monastery, the whispers dragged across his ears

  like a ragged fingernail across silk.

  "He does. But what choices do we have?

  He seems like he knows what he's doing." Just like the whispers at school.

  "But what if he leaves us? Do you think

  we can trust him?"

  Just like when he joined the IDF. "If he leaves us, we are in just as much

  trouble as we would be if we left him."

  Tal was no stranger to distrust. He was, after all Arab. He was also Jewish. It made for a difficult situation no matter where he went in the lands of his ancestors. As a Mizrahi Jew, he was caught in two worlds, too Arab to go unnoticed in Israel and to Jewish to be left in peace in the rest of the Middle East. A set of traits that would be of use when the Maglan finally recruited him.

  His parents came to Israel from Beruit in 1967 under the Law of Return, thinking they were making a new life for themselves, with hope for the family they'd start in the future. When Tal was nine or ten , his father would occasionally tell him things like, "We left to find a better world, where we would no longer be looked at with distrust because of our faith." But all that really happened was that, now, he was looked at with distrust because he clearly looked Lebanese. They traded one form of intolerance for another. Xenophobic mix-and-match.

  "I am both. I am an Arab, AND I am Jewish. I DO know what I'm doing,” sort of, “and yes I was a soldier.” Soldier, assassin, murderer, these are just words. “Instead of worrying whether or not I'm going to abandon you, something I surely would have done already were I going to do it at all, maybe you'd like to keep your attention on the surrounding area? So we don't get eaten? We are far from safe just yet." Tal halted in his tracks and ran a gaze over his little group of misfits, as though waiting for them to challenge his request; embarrassed downward glances were their only responses. "Yes? Delightful. We're nearly there."

  The decline grew sharper as the group moved farther from the last road in Almon, and nestled right in a 'Y' shaped valley were the ruins of the ancient monastery. The day was growing hot, and it was now well past noon by the sun's position, though Tal had never really been good at telling the time that way; when had he ever gone on a mission without the most accurate of time pieces?

  It had been no more than perhaps a thousand meters from the cul de sac, but John was clearly beginning to feel the added strain of Levi's inert body as he'd navigated the

  downward slope from the town. Walking across the scree and loose stone, navigating the larger rocks with the captain on his back had clearly tired him, and once they’d reached the ruins John searched for a comfortable place with some shade to lay his burden down, and motioned for Ben to help slide him off. As the two men laid Levi down onto one of the low stone terraces that still survived, Isabella and Christine moved toward the small pool of water just passed the ancient monastery, chatting a little but quietly enough that Tal couldn't clearly hear what was said.

  "Don't go out of eye sight", Tal warned them. Briefly sitting in the shade of one of the few trees, he opened his pack and got out his canteen, taking a few sips. He needed to conserve, this was really as far as his planning had taken him, and there was no telling how long they'd be out here. Plus, if he was honest with himself, his eyes were throbbing and his hands were shaking from the early stages of alcohol withdrawal, a
nd he needed a moment to collect himself.

  If I show any weakness now, these people might bolt. Then they’re good as dead, and I good as killed them.

  Sitting around wasn't going to do much, just bolster his morale for a moment, and the shakes were only going to get worse which meant they needed those guns and to get back to the truck. They could hash out a plan on the way, though now that he thought about it, his vote might go to Eilat. It wasn't a huge city, which was good. It was far as hell and it'd be tough, but they had a small hospital they might be able to raid for medical supplies. And some stores and malls and such for clothes and food. And it was right on the Gulf of Aqaba.

  Yeah…worse comes to worse, we steal a boat. Off through the Red Sea, then who knows? Could go anywhere this crap isn't. Assuming there IS anywhere this crap isn't.

  But first they needed the weapons. Tal stood, regretting the rush of blood out of his head, and then the pounding that heralded its return, and walked over to the two men and their prostrate charge.

  "Here," he handed them the canteen, "Ben, stay with our friend the captain and try to dribble a little water in his mouth. Not enough to make him inhale it though. Then, fill it up over where the girls are, ok? I need to borrow John."

  Tal guided John over to a three sided set of walls, the fourth side having disappeared entirely ages ago. Guiding him behind the wall farthest from the direction of Almon, there was a pile of rocks that looked as though it had been there since the birth of the world.

  "Under here," Tal began, "should be a green crate. That’s our stuff. We need to dig it out and get it back to the truck. It's should be on the heavy side, so the girls and Ben might need to team up to get Levi back, I need you on the box with me."

  "If it's there." he replied, more statement than question. The initial shock of their flight from Jerusalem seemed to have worn off some, and John looked like he was going to be ‘the strong, silent type’.

  "Yeah. If it's there. Start pulling off rocks." Tal began to grab the stones and drop them haphazardly behind him, clearly intent on finding the crate, while John placed them with care into a pile.

  "It's not like the police are going to come and fine you for screwing with a historical site, you know. We have to move quickly, we're too exposed out here."

  John looked up and gave Tal a sheepish smile, "I know…but it seems…disrespectful. This place has lasted through wars and looters and God knows what else. Men put faith and love into the building of this place, who am I to tear it down?"

  "Yeah. Well. When you see them, apologize for me, would you? We don't hurry up and you'll meet them way before I do". I'm about to turn into a frickin pile of twitching jelly, and he's worried about offending dead architects.

  After clearing down about a foot and a half of rock, Tal saw the olive drab green of a military crate.

  Oh, thank you God.

  As soon as he'd cleared enough to grab one of the end handles, Tal pulled with as much strength, and indifference to preserving history, as his mind and his muscles could muster and dragged the crate free, toppling most of the stones in the process. Kneeling, almost as if in prayer, and gingerly like it was a present, he opened the latches on the box and pushed the lid off. Inside were close to ten handguns, three bull pup rifles, several grenades and clips and ammo for all of them.

  It's like Purim.

  Immediately, Tal began to grab

  magazines for the pistols and stuff them into his bag, sticking one of the handguns in his belt next to the Jericho. Briefly, he considered tossing the Jericho; he'd said he was going to, hadn't he? The memories and emotions attached to that gun were more than he really needed to deal with. But only a fool throws away something that could save his life later, and a part of him almost craved the repentance and guilt that came with its presence. It was a reminder of both what he was and always would be, and what he wasn't anymore and didn't want to ever be again. It seemed that his past and the Jericho were intertwined, and that he could escape neither.

  Not time to get sentimental, he thought. Slinging one of the bull pups over his shoulder, and telling John to collect the ladies, he got up and walked back over to Ben and Levi.

  Best to get the plan started now.

  He'd need Ben and the girls to hash out who was going to do what to get Levi moving, and figure out where they were going.

  "How's he doing?" Tal asked, flicking a casual hand in Levi's direction.

  "I don't know. I'm not a doctor, but he's breathing steady. The blood stopped a while ago, so that's good. It was a hard hit though, there could be…complications." Ben looked up and quickly appraised Tal. "How are you doing?"

  "What do you mean? I'm fine. Just anxious to get out of the open, is all."

  Ben looked up at him and gave him that look you get from your father when you tell him you’re sick on the day of the test at school.

  "You're not. You're sweating heavily, your eyes are bloodshot, your hands are shaking, and you smell like a liquor store. You should rest for a moment, drink some water. You're no good to us if your body shuts down."

  Oh good, this one tells it like it is. That's not gonna get old real quick.

  "I can deal, ok? Let's just worry about getting to the truck again. Once we decide where we are going, you can drive, and I'll 'rest' then." Tal was not a fan of explaining himself to anyone, let alone some old man he'd just met with no filter between his mouth and his head.

  "Look, I'm not judging. When my wife passed…I had some hard times. I'm saying I know what it's like." A wistful look and a small smile crossed his face, “You know, I've been here before, years ago. Isabella was too little for her to remember. We took a vacation. A whole month off. We came and saw this place, and the Faran Monastery a little further on, before heading up to Tel Aviv for a week. Went to Haifa, on the coast and took a boat to Crete. Beautiful place, Crete." He let out a sigh, "Those were happier times."

  But Tal had ceased listening to him and was staring toward the slope up to Almon, his face intent like a wolf listening for a rabbit. He'd been trained by the best and old habits die hard, so in between the sounds of Ben's voice and the crunch of sand beneath the returning feet of the three other mobile members of his group, a sound ghosted over the wind and caught Tal's attention. It was faint, more like the memory of a sound than the sound itself, but it was enough to trigger the instincts that the Special Forces had drilled into him over the years. The barest whispers of that tortured wail the dead made crept into his ear and down his spine until it pooled in his stomach like concrete.

  "Get up." Tal motioned urgently to everyone via hand signals, and when they were close enough to speak quietly, began to issue orders.

  "Get to the box and get what you can carry. John, we can't take the whole box now, so hoist Levi back up and get moving up the wadi. Ben, that monastery…Faran? Is it still there?"

  "Yes, I believe so. I haven't been in years though. Why, what's going on?" The sudden change in Tal's mood was clearly beginning to panic the group, and he saw no need for subterfuge.

  "We can't go back to the truck, they're up there. We need to go deeper into the wadi. Must have came back up from Anata or Hizma or something, maybe they heard the truck, but it's not safe here anymore. The other towns are too far, and we might not want to go there anyway, but if that monastery is still there, we’ve got a shot. C'mon, move!"

  Everyone went in different directions at once, Ben helping John lift Levi again, Christine and Isabella grabbing a rifle each and some grenades, and Tal slinging his pack over his shoulder, readjusting the bull pup, and heading to the water source to hastily fill his canteen. Once Levi was secure, Ben grabbed a handgun and some clips, but before he could take anymore, Tal saw dark shapes appear over the crest of the rise from Almon.

  "Shit. Move people, we have to go now!" The wail echoed off the walls of the wadi, the already haunting noise made so much more sinister by its reverberations off the rocks. Tal capped his canteen and stowed it in his pack, removi
ng the bull pup from his shoulder and locking in a magazine. "Do not fire unless you have to or you'll draw more to us! Christine! Go in front with Ben! I'll take up the rear."

  The group began moving deeper into the valley, Ben in the lead with Christine, her rifle in her hand. Tal should have checked to see if she knew how to use it, or if she'd even loaded it for that matter, but there was no time now.

  Details, details.

  Isabella and John were in the middle, the young girl and burdened man being the most vulnerable. Levi hung over John's shoulders, probably just as useful as he'd have been if he were conscious, and Tal, ever the last, took up the position with the most chance of danger. Up on the rise, there were now nearly ten of the damned, moving toward their position slowly but with a clear purpose.

  Damn valley just funneled our scent right up to them. The scent must have been weak though, or the dead would have been moving with much more vigor.

  Cautiously they moved among the rocks strewn along the floor of the valley, occasionally wading through the pools of clear water that formed at the base of white limestone cliffs. The ruins of old aqueducts could be seen in places, hidden amongst boulders and the occasional palm tree. Once upon a time, these pools had helped to feed water to the winter palaces near Jericho, and had run since Roman times; now tourists would marvel at ancient technologies, or they would if tourists would ever come back this way.

  The dead didn’t seem to care for anything but meat, certainly not history. Tal would turn and check every few meters to ensure that their pursuers were far enough behind, his mind turning the beatific desert landscape and scenic oasis into possible choke points and ambush areas, stark white cliffs into fields of fire. A larger pool and the boulders around it began to cause an obstacle for the group, Ben and Christine helping to steady John and his charge while Isabella looked around with mounting anxiety, the rifle on her shoulder all but forgotten.

  The dead were still coming, and though Tal could now no longer see the rise to Almon, he could well imagine that the echoes of the wailing he could hear more and more clearly could also be heard near the town. Whatever passing horde had picked up on them, the sounds Tal heard told him it was growing by the minute. He hoped Ben knew where he was going, that where he was going was still there, and that the dead wouldn't figure it out till the group had already gotten there safely. As luck would have it, John had gotten through the narrow cleft between the boulders and the rest of the group squeezed through after. Tal took a last check and backed through afterwards.