The Dead Saga: Odium 0.5 (Nina's Story)

by Riley, Claire C.

  Ben nudged me and pointed to a corner of the yard. The grass was black and burnt up from the remnants of a recent fire, and as I looked closer and made out several bones that looked like arms or legs, I realized where the missing bodies had gone. We kept on moving, heading toward the back door. There was no letterbox there, and so no way of checking inside.

  “What now?” I asked Ben in a whisper.

  He looked up at the side of the house, lifting an arm to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. He was sweating, dark stains shadowed under his arms, and I knew it was more than just fuel that we were going to need soon enough.

  “We’re going to have to break in. I need the keys to the truck.” He jiggled the handle of the door and gave it a little shove to test the strength of it.

  I checked all around us in case we had attracted any of the deaders to our location, and he readied himself to shoulder slam the back door in.

  “Wait!”

  We both looked up to see a man leaning out of one of the top windows.

  “Don’t break it in, I’ll open up.” He looked behind him and then back out to us. “Is it just you two?” He looked to be a little older than Ben, though his build was slimmer.

  “Yeah,” Ben replied, squinting up at the guy.

  “Are you bitten?” he asked.

  “No,” I replied quickly. “Is that how it spreads?”

  “I don’t know, but it just seems right to check, you know?” He shrugged, unsure, and I nodded in agreement. We had no idea how all of this had happened—how the country, possibly the world, had been brought to its knees by the undead. How did the dead come back? How did it start? How did it pass on? But more importantly, how would it all end?

  “We don’t want any trouble. We ran out of fuel, we just need…” I looked away behind us at the burnt pile in the corner. “…help.” I looked back up at him and he pressed his lips into a thin line.

  “I haven’t got much, but you can have my truck.” He glanced behind him again and then back out to us, and I realized that he had someone else in there with him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “That would be great, thank you.” Ben looked at me and then to the swing in the yard. “We don’t have much either, but…we have some food we can share. It’s not much, but… well, you can have some of it.”

  I nodded in agreement. We didn’t have much—practically nothing at all, really—but in this type of world you had to help one another or no one was going to survive. It couldn’t just be about keeping yourself alive; it had to be about working together. Surely that was the only way any of us were going to make it.

  “I’m coming down. I’ll meet you at the front door.” The man’s head popped back into the house and the window shut. We quietly walked back around to the front of the house, still watching for deaders.

  We reached the front door and waited, our weapons hanging slack in our hands. The front door opened with a soft click and a man stood there, the barrel of a shotgun pointed directly at us. We both instinctively drew back from him, with Ben raising his Smith and Wesson in retaliation.

  “Just the two of you?” the man asked again quietly, his eyes never leaving Ben as if deeming me not to be a threat.

  We both nodded, our shoulders relaxing as he lowered his shotgun. Ben pushed his gun back into his waistband and we stepped forward to go inside, but the man shook his head at us.

  “You can’t come in.”

  “Oh” was the only word I could reply with, sounding almost sulky. So much for working together and helping one another.

  “Okay, well if you give us your keys we’ll get you some food.” Ben spoke from next to me and I nodded in agreement.

  “Get me the food and I’ll give you the keys,” the man replied.

  “Dude, you were going to give us the keys anyway. Don’t be an asshole about this,” Ben snapped back.

  “The name’s Stephen, and that was before I knew that you had any food.” Stephen raised his shotgun back up, pointing it at my face. “Now I want the food, and I want all of it.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him, my cheeks flaming hot in my humiliation.

  Wow. You think you know someone and then bam, they turn out to be a total dick.

  “I suggest you go get whatever you have and bring it back to me before I shoot your girlfriend.” Stephen’s eyes flicked to Ben.

  “She’s my wife, and if you hurt her…” he started.

  “I won’t need to as long as you do as I say.” His gun stayed on me but he avoided any direct eye contact. There was a slight tremble to his hand—not that it made much of a difference at this close range. If he shot me, I was dead. That was a fact.

  He didn’t seem like a killer. Not a human killer, anyway. The pile of ash in the back yard only served to prove that he would kill deaders, though.

  Ben glanced at me and swallowed before he slowly backed away from us and headed to the pickup.

  I looked at Stephen—really looked at him. His beard was growing through and his hair was a mess, but the thing that struck me more than anything was his face: it was worn down. Exhaustion ringed his eyes, anguish resonating deep within them like only someone who has lost too much would have.

  “Who did you lose?” I asked, my voice quiet.

  He closed his eyes for a second but he didn’t reply, and I knew that I had struck a nerve in him.

  “Was it your wife?”

  His nostrils flared, but before I could say anything else a little voice spoke up behind him and my stomach churned with the same anguish I had just seen in Stephen.

  “Daddy?”

  Stephen grimaced, his eyes finally opening up, and in them…god, the pain. It was a pain only someone with a child could understand. A pain neither I nor Ben could even begin to contemplate.

  “Daddy? Can we eat now? I’m hungry.”

  Stephen’s jaw ground furiously before he responded. “In a minute, Jack. I’ll be there in a minute, son. Go back inside.”

  My shoulders slumped as Ben came back. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I replied quietly. “Give him the food.”

  Stephen’s expression didn’t change. He kept his gun leveled at me, but I saw his finger lift off the trigger fractionally.

  Ben looked at me in confusion. It wasn’t like me to give up on something without a fight, but he trusted me implicitly so he nodded and dropped the bag at our feet.

  “Back up.” Stephen’s voice was harsh and we stepped away from the door. “I’m sorry about this. I really am.” He grabbed the backpack of food as we continued to move away. He lowered his gun and reached into his pocket, taking a minute to examine the item in his palm before throwing it to us. The keys to the truck landed on the ground between us, but I was still looking at Stephen, at his harrowed expression. “It’s pretty much full,” he said. “Filled it up the day this all started. We were supposed to be going on a road trip.” His eyes were far away, staring at the memory only he could see. With a swift shake of his head, he turned and slammed the door shut.

  Ben and I looked at the keys to Stephen’s truck lying on the ground in front of us, and then Ben reached down and picked them up. Knowing that we were taking away this man’s only way of escape if something bad happened was not a good feeling. Despite him stealing all of our supplies and showing us no mercy, I knew I couldn’t do it to him—leave him with no escape. He had a little boy in there; he was just trying to protect his family. I could understand that. I would do anything to protect Ben—anything at all.

  “Give me your keys, Ben.”

  You do what you do to protect the ones you love.

  Ben handed me the keys to our truck—his truck…our deader covered, seriously lacking in fuel, piece of shit truck, and I jogged back up the front steps and opened the letterbox. Looking in, I could see Stephen still standing there, a set of little feet next to him.

  “What do they want, Daddy?” the little boy whispered.

  I pushed the keys through quickly.
“There’s almost no fuel left, but it might get you a little way if you need to… I don’t know, get away quickly.”

  Little feet ran over to the door even as Stephen yelled at him to come back, and small brown eyes looked back out at me through the letterbox, chubby little cheeks giving way to a grin.

  “Hi.” A little boy smiled at me.

  “Hi,” I replied.

  “Thank you for our food.” His voice was sweet and innocent, full of everything that was good in the world. I swallowed, emotions bubbling up into my throat.

  “You’re welcome. Goodbye.” I waved and stood back up before I cried. “Good luck,” I spoke to the door, my voice cracking. I knew that Stephen could hear me, though he didn’t reply.

  Ben transferred what little things we had into the new truck, and as we climbed in I glanced back at the house. The letterbox was still open and I could just make out a little face looking back out at me. I smiled as we drove away.

  Chapter Ten.

  Luckily for us, Stephen hadn’t lied and the truck was almost full, so the majority of the day was taken up by driving. We’d had to take serious detours in our attempts at reaching Ben’s parents’ cabin. Some towns were too large, meaning neither of us wanted to try to drive through them. Towns meant people, people meant deaders. And it was always best to avoid the deaders. Though at times it felt like we were driving just to keep moving, I didn’t mind, because perhaps if we kept on moving we could outrun this nightmare.

  I couldn’t help but wonder why Stephen had never tried to go anywhere with his family, to get them somewhere safe. Why had he just bolted his family inside their home and waited to die? I realized the answer to my own question. There wasn’t anywhere safe anymore, and it made me wonder if there was really any point in trying to escape this madness.

  We took bathroom breaks, but only when it seemed the coast was absolutely clear. End of the world or not, I still had to pee constantly. My bladder had always been tiny, and the fear of impending death hanging over my head hadn’t changed that about me. Ben never grumbled or complained each time I asked to go. He just smiled and nodded. Thankfully for us, Ben hadn’t given all of our food away. We still had some cereal bars and dried fruit in my backpack. Food is food, though, so neither of us complained; we just ate and kept on moving, because we both knew that sooner or later we’d have to go hungry.

  As the sun began to set, I found it hard to believe that at the same time last week I’d wanted our marriage over. That the man next to me, protecting me at all costs, had probably wanted rid of me too. Life was so short and so damn precious—every minute was a valuable gift, and we had wasted so much of it.

  I hadn’t even realized that I was crying, and I didn’t notice when Ben pulled up at the side of the road. He unclipped his seatbelt and placed his gun on the dashboard so he could lean over to me, his arms wrapping around me as I cried loudly.

  “I’m so sorry, Ben. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  I pushed him off me. “No, it’s not. I’ve hurt you so much, I just…”

  He rubbed away my tears.

  “I hurt you too, Nina. Maybe if I wouldn’t have been such an asshole all the time things would have been different. I did this to us, too, you know. You can’t have all the blame for yourself.” He stroked my face and continued. “I drove us to this, so while I appreciate that yes, you’ve been a bitch,” he laughed and the smile I had fallen in love with blossomed on his face and made me fall in love with him all over again, “I can forgive you for it, because more than anything, baby, I just want my wife back. I’ve missed you, I’ve missed us, and I don’t care who did what or who was the biggest asshole to the other—certainly not now.” He gestured around us and I nodded in understanding. “All that matters is that we’re together.”

  “I love you,” I sobbed out, once again feeling weak. Yet with his forgiveness and his arms around me, I knew I could be strong. And I knew we could make this work. In the grand scheme of things, the past was over and done with. We had to look to the future now, and my future was Ben.

  He leaned over hesitantly, and kissed me as if it was the kiss from our very first date. I felt nervous, apprehensive, and a little bit excited by the end of it—as if this is the start of our life and not the end of human life as we knew it.

  “We’ve wasted so much time, Ben.” I looked at him through wet lashes and he smiled.

  “Then let’s not waste any more.”

  I nodded and smiled back, feeling emotionally clean for the first time in months. I finally believed that we could move forward together, whatever the future now held for us. We both wanted it—hell, we both needed it. We needed each other. And right now, all that mattered was that we were together and we were going to get through this.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you so much, Nina.” He kissed me gently and rubbed away the tears on my cheeks. “Are you going to be okay?”

  I nodded, my breath shuddering out of me. “I think so, yeah. I have to be—we only have each other now.”

  It was his turn to nod, and I knew that he was worrying about his parents. Both of my parents had died a long time ago, and I was an only child, so for me there was no one to worry about in this life but Ben. And I had never been more grateful for that fact—especially when I thought to Stephen and his little boy.

  “We should get going,” Ben said. “You good?” He was smiling at me, but I could see his mind was elsewhere.

  “Yeah, I just need to pee again first.” I laughed through my tears and I sniffed. “I’m sorry, I’ll be really quick.”

  He laughed and stroked my hair affectionately. “No problem.”

  I opened my door and Ben did the same.

  “They’ll be okay, Ben.”

  His eyes met mine, and he nodded before climbing out and going to stand at the front of the truck. I crouched down right by my door, shielded by the side of the truck so he didn’t have to watch me pee. I relieved myself, stood up, and zipped my pants back in place.

  We were on a long stretch of road, with tall swaying trees and bushes to the far side and fields with a drainage ditch on the other side. It was calm—serene, almost—as Ben leaned against the front of the truck looking straight ahead into the distance at the soft orange glow of the sun setting on the horizon. He turned and looked at me and I smiled.

  “It’s almost as if it isn’t real.” His words reached me and I nodded. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and ran his hand across the back of his neck. “But it is real, and we have to remember that.”

  I looked away, knowing he was right but hating the bluntness of his words.

  “Nina, if anything ever happens—if we ever get split up, you have to run. You get to my parents’ cabin by any means possible, okay?”

  I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t; my voice was lodged in my too tight throat. I couldn’t leave him. I wouldn’t survive without him.

  “I mean it. The world is different. There’s only one rule now—one law—and that’s survival, and we have to do that any way we can. We need to be strong, hard, because we have to survive.”

  “I know, Ben. I will.” I walked toward him.

  “Promise me. Promise you’ll do whatever it takes to survive. You don’t give up—not ever.” His eyes were glassy, his face hard as he stressed the importance of my survival.

  “I promise.” My steps halted, watching as his expression changed from something loving to one of pain and he screamed loudly. “Ben?!” I called his name, his eyes connecting with mine, and then he was gone, his body stolen from my sight.

  “Ben!” I screamed out again and ran to the front of the truck, my hand reaching for the knife that was at my waistband but coming up empty. As if the world were in slow motion, I remembered leaving it on my seat, and I sobbed at the realization of it. As I reached the front of the truck I saw Ben on the ground fighting with a deader that had crawled out of the ditch. Its legs were just useless, putrid mush attache
d only by rotting sinew.

  It was biting down on his calf muscle, its teeth sinking into the soft flesh there while its hands were clawing at his chest and drawing fresh blood. I could hear groaning coming from somewhere else, and as the breeze hit me, so did the smell.

  Deaders.

  Ben’s eyes were wide as he looked up at me from the ground, his hands pulling at the deader’s head and dragging its mouth away from his legs. How he wasn’t screaming I didn’t know, but every effort seemed to be in pulling the deader off of him.

  “Nina,” he gritted out, still holding back the deader’s face with his hands. “Help me.”

  I had no weapon and neither did he, so I ran back to my side of the truck, opened the door, and reached for the knife on my seat. I saw Ben’s gun and grabbed that instead just as a cold, dead hand touched my shoulder. I flinched away from it and let out a sharp scream, backing away from the deader that was behind me.

  Its eyes stared blankly at me, its jaw hanging wide, with a rotten tongue lolling to one side. It groaned and reached for me again and I fumbled with the gun in my hand, trying to take aim at it. I kicked it away and fired, hitting it in the shoulder, yet it didn’t falter from the shot but continued coming for me as if nothing had happened.

  I fired again, the second shot taking off part of its face but doing nothing to impede its progress. I shot until the gun clicked on empty and the deader finally crumbled to the ground in a pile of rotten mush.

  I charged back to the front of the truck to help Ben and my heart slammed to a stop in my chest.

  He stared up at me, his mouth open in a silent scream as two deaders used their hands to claw away his clothing and bite down on his insides. Their rotten mouths were tearing and chewing down on his limbs as blood, so much blood, poured out from every orifice. Ben blinked back the tears that trickled out of the corners of his eyes and trailed slowly down his cheeks, creating clear paths through the blood. One of the deaders looked up at me with a growl, releasing Ben’s arm from its mouth as it stood and came toward me.