Sorrow

by Brian Wortley

  The next morning as Sara was still waking she rested her head against his chest. “You know what I want?”

  “Pancakes!”

  “Well, yes that too. But I want to drift in and out of sleep for days and each time I wake I want to find that the only thing that’s changed or is in the state of alarm is myself. I want peace. I want to breathe it and feel it and taste it. I haven’t even been fighting as long as you and already I’m tired of this hell. It grates on me. I am weary of the noise of guns in the night and the feeling of terror.” Brady held her closer. “What do those eyes of yours see? How I wish I could see into the future like you.”

  Brady grew emotional as he answered. “You ask me what I see. But would you really care to know? You make my foresight out to be a gift as if to be envied. I am the horrendous screams of starving children. I am the image of burning corpses. I am he who haunts the sad hall of time with footsteps of lead. I am a crashing cymbal upon the floor signifying the terrible end of humanity. You do not know what you have asked for. But since you desire, you will dream in fire as I do.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “You haven’t. I just care for you.”

  After they made waffles for breakfast, they sat outside watching the trees sway back and forth in the sweet mountain air.

  “Is there any hope?” she asked.

  Brady raised his head closing his eyes as he soaked in the little sunlight coming through the haze. “You will see peace. You will be acquainted with it intimately. Its burden will press against your very body. You will survive to the very end. I behold you already as a child standing in the archway of the ending of time. I see you happy with tears of gladness. But all this hides behind a veil of great suffering.”

  He moved her hair gently from her face as he continued, “Yes, Sara. There is hope. Locked away in a treasure chest buried deep inside a mountain, there is hope. But you will find it. And it will lead you out.”

  For the whole rest of the trip, they did not speak of it again.

  ∙ ∙ • ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙

  About this time, Connor paid a visit to Val with several of his guards. She did not open the door for several minutes and when she did her face showed obvious signs of disgust. Moses, who took up residence in the house while Brady and Sara were gone, had offered to speak to Connor but she knew he would not leave without speaking to her.

  Val coldly waited for Connor to speak.

  “We’re not here for you or Moses. So just stay out of our way.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I’m searching this house. I have a lingering suspicion Brady is painting again. I will have that painting.”

  “What? So you can piss on it?”

  Connor grew more agitated and Moses’ figure appeared in the door behind Val. “I don’t mean to hurt anyone. Now get out of my way.”

  Moses whispered something into Val’s ear and she moved away from the door. Connor and his men seized the house. His men searched until they came to Brady’s painting upstairs. One of them hollered down about his findings. Connor either did not notice or care that Val and Moses quickly gathered their things and left.

  Connor rushed up and burst into the room. “Good work! Now leave,” he yelled at his soldier.

  Constructed of mostly building materials and some paint, a great scene stretched out before Connor. From the floor up, the story of the painting progressed. Menacing satellites and a furious sun glared down upon the earth in unfathomable hatred. There, caught in the piercing glare of the sun, a small band of humans raced across the land towards a white tower in the distance. But hot on their heels was an army of darkness. Without moving, the army seemed to be drawing closer and closer to the company at alarming speeds. The skies burned as if the atmosphere itself were aflame while the moon shied away splattered in blood. Groaning from millennia of agonizing existence, the earth spun apart like a beautiful woman tearing off her own flesh.

  Despite Connor’s best defenses, he found himself like a child before the painting. His mind deceived him and he stretched out his hand as if trying to help the small band of humans. He opened his mouth and almost spoke, “The tower is so far away, daddy. Why is the sun so angry? Where are all the others?”

  The painted satellite stalked the humans with the menacing face of a witch from a fairytale. Connor could almost hear its evil cackle. Something, undisclosed at first, drove the undead army with the determination of a thousand whips. The great force came as it were from the ceiling dripping down the walls at the small band. A great force of anger pushed them on towards their goal of annihilating the puny humans. Gathering his courage, Connor dared to look upwards into the very source of the driving hatred. To his surprise there loomed a horrifying face coming out of the ceiling towards him. Its appearance was both disgusting and pale. Its eyeballs dripped with murder and hatred towards the humans. When Connor could stomach the terrifying gaze, he looked fully upon the face and could not shake the feeling of a haunting familiarity. Like a spotlight the face’s fury burned forward guiding the way of the undead to where the humans hid. Nowhere that the human company tried to hide was safe from his terrifying eyes. Doom like fluid dripped from his eyes onto the floor below.

  Finally, Connor returned from his childlike state. Feeling as if he’d been put under a spell, he tore his eyes away from the painting and ordered gasoline and matches to be brought to him.

  Connor poured the gasoline over the floor of the painted room pausing for a moment to take one last look at its horror. Out of curiosity he squinted to see the white tower better. Though it had not been drawn in great detail it seemed to have something red beside it. It loomed in the distance as if emanating hope.

  Connor shrugged out his lip in disgust and stepped back into the doorway tossing a lit match. The room went up in a blaze and Connor quickly exited the house. He and his men stood watching the flames consume the entire structure.

  ∙ ∙ • ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙

  Brady and Sara watched silently as the outskirts of Colorado Springs passed by outside the car windows. Since Brady’s madness never seized him in the mountains, they decided to move back into the cabin. Brady insisted on getting a few things from their house before they moved. And Sara desperately wanted to convince Val to go with them. Since Brady’s madness seemed only to seize him in the night, the two promised each other to leave before evening for their new home.

  The couple drove in with the peace of the mountains still on them unaware of the disaster awaiting them. The gate opened allowing them entrance and immediately they became surrounded by guards.

  Connor, now a man of remarkable power, stepped forward. “Sara, leave before I punish you along with your husband.” She looked at him confused and afraid.

  “You should go,” Brady told her.

  “I’m going to find Val,” she said quickly leaving.

  “You,” his words landed like bombs, “you would keep valuable information from me? You would steal all the hope I’ve been trying to instill in these people. Your words are fire.”

  “Connor, what are you talking about?”

  “I know of the painting in your house.”

  “You’re invading my privacy now?”

  Sara came running back with Val and Moses at her side screaming, “Brady, he’s burning our house to the ground! That column of smoke is our home!”

  Brady turned to his old friend. “What have you done?”

  “Brady, you are under arrest for conspiring against this city. You would steal the hope of these good people with your poison!” He turned to his guards gesturing for them to take him. “Any of you interfere and I’ll have you arrested along with him.”

  Connor’s men looked back as if to double check their boss’ intentions. He gestured for them to proceed. As the men approached, like a zombie Brady lunged forward knocking down one of the men and securing his gun on the way down. Before anyone could react, Brady frantically fired a bullet through the m
an’s head. Blood and brain matter splattered across the ground. Brady savagely licked it up like a beast. A horrified Connor responded by immediately drawing his side arm and firing a round into Brady. Under the impact, Brady fell to the ground motionless. The shot rang out throughout the city echoing off the buildings. The deafening noise shook Connor to his core though he tried not to show it.

  Trying to maintain a strong appearance, Connor gestured for his men to secure Brady’s weapon. Connor looked down at Brady’s motionless body. A part of Connor was amazed things escalated so quickly. The other part of him knew something like this had to happen eventually. Connor let his gun drift up to Brady’s head. Connor shot a glance up and met Val’s eyes. In the commotion, Connor had failed to notice she arrived. She said no words but her gaze spoke volumes. Her beautiful dark eyes pleaded for his life.

  Connor kicked Brady’s body face up. As Connor did, Brady woke slightly, murmuring incoherently to himself. “Lock him up,” Connor ordered his men. His men scooped up Brady’s body dragging him away. Sara followed after the men dragging her husband’s body.

  Everyone but Connor and Val dispersed. When she turned to leave, Connor called out to her, “Val.” She turned but said nothing. “What was I supposed to do? He’s clearly zombie now. He killed one of my men!”

  “Connor, I’m not mad at you. I might have done the same thing in your situation.”

  “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I don’t know, Connor. I don’t know anything anymore.”

  She turned to leave and he did not stop her. Connor stood there feeling more alone than ever. He returned to his command post now displaying a tattered American flag.

  ∙ ∙ • ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙

  That afternoon a brave operation commenced. While Connor strategized with his officers in his command post, Liz, the head guard at the Fountain Police Station where they held Brady, attempted to cure Brady. Liz posted a guard outside the police station to warn them of Connor’s approached. And deep inside the halls they exposed Brady to high doses of the cure. But after two hours of trying, they experienced no success. At that point, the lookout ran in to tell them Connor approached and Liz and her guards were forced to give up.

  As Connor approached the Fountain Police Station, he weighed his options in his mind. A side of him desperately wanted Brady dead and out of the way. He had become an increasingly annoying thorn in his side. But the other side of him wanted to wait for fear of the people. Despite his dislike of Brady, Connor knew him to be well liked among certain groups.

  Connor stepped inside the police station saluting the guards at the entrance. There he came to stand before Brady’s cell. The thing he found there startled him. Brady licked the blood oozing from a minor wound on his arm. When it scabbed over, Brady proceeded to reopen it with his teeth to keep the flow of blood constant. Brady disgustingly wiggled his finger into the bullet wound in his shoulder. He then removed his finger and licked off the blood now covering it. A repulsed Connor stood two feet behind the bars watching this process a few times. He knew now his old friend was completely enemy.

  “Can you hear me?” Connor asked. Brady stopped his horrific procedure but never took his eyes off a drop of blood moving down his arm. “I should kill you. No cure will work on you now. You’re not like the other zombies. I should know. I made you.”

  At this Brady looked up and said in a sickly tone, “You are not my father. But he is coming for me.” Connor started to speak, but Brady cut him off yelling, “I feel the thumping of your juice box heart!” Brady closed his eyes as he salivated. “If only I could puncture it.”

  Just then Sara came in. The expression on her face betrayed the fact that she did not expect to see Connor there.

  “What are you doing here?” Connor yelled.

  “I want to talk to my husband,” she replied in a strong tone.

  Connor, taking offense to her tone, lashed out at her, “He’s a zombie now! No good to anyone.”

  “Connor! He was fine in the mountains. We were there days and he never acted like this. I know he’s being corrupted by the presence of this king!” Though her fingers recoiled at the thought, she placed her hand on Connor’s arm begging him. “Please let me take my husband to the mountains. He will be fine there. You’ll see.”

  Something inside Connor felt powerful to hear her plea. “No. He is not leaving here. He will join them and he knows of our secrets. I’ll sooner kill him than let him out of this cell.”

  “Connor,” Sara whispered moving to her knees. “Please!”

  Connor struck her across the face. Sara could not believe it. She looked up at him wide-eyed. A small drop of blood formed at the corner of her mouth causing Brady to take notice. Brady rose from his position and pressed his face against the bars straining towards her. With his tongue he reached out as if to be as close to the drop as possible.

  An old side of Connor’s flared up and he knew he crossed a line. As if he startled himself, Connor left the room quickly. This left Sara alone with Brady and his two guards. Sara wiped the blood from her lip and moved towards the cell. She stopped far outside Brady’s reach to speak to him.

  “Are you in there?” she asked. He seemed fixated on her lip. His obsession only made her cry. She wiped her lip again hoping to get his attention away from her blood.

  “Sara,” he almost hissed at her. She looked up in astonishment at his wild eyes.

  “You know me?”

  “Mark my words,” he moaned in an incredibly cryptic voice. “I will stand you naked before your captors. I will force you to watch your closest friends die over and over.” Tears welled up in Sara’s eyes and she fell to her knees at his words. “You will be intimate with their excruciating suffering. Grief will pierce you through like a stake. And as you die, you will look up and to your everlasting horror see me as the hammer driving it through your heart.”

  She cried through her tears at him, “I know you do not mean that. It is only your madness but it still rips my heart to hear you say it! You saved me. Now I will save you. We will go away from this place. We’ll live in the mountains far away from all this! You’ll be mine again. And you’ll call me ‘baby.’”

  He continued in the same tone as if she never spoke. “I will eat you from the inside out. Consuming everything you are. You will watch as I devour your heart! I swear to you this is true.”

  Sara could stand no more and went weeping from his presence.

  ∙ ∙ • ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙

  Connor feared Brady’s comment of his father coming to rescue him. He briefed his officers and had them ready their troops for an attack. Word spread quickly through the ranks and soon Connor found a fear breeding throughout the camp.

  When Connor stepped outside his command center hours later, he found a flurry of chaotic activity. Extra guns were being mounted around the perimeter wall. Others poured gasoline along the perimeter in order to create a fiery moat. Some of the ex-military recruits suggested explosives be placed in nearby buildings. If the bombs could be detonated at the perfect moment, they hoped to topple buildings on top of the enemy.

  Working well into the night, everyone did all they could imagine and find the resources to do. As midnight passed, a great cold gust of wind came over the mountains. It bit into the soldiers like the icy fingers of an early winter. Tirelessly the workers plugged holes in the walls and setup large pointed debris on the outskirts of the perimeter with their hair whipping across their faces.

  Around two o’clock that morning, one of the workers announced, “I know the days are shot to hell, but according to the date on my watch it’s Halloween.” This brought no comfort to the people around him.

  As the night progressed, a red haze began to grow on the eastern horizon. There to everyone’s alarm rose a proper Halloween moon full and menacing. Like an eyeball on a string it rose high into the night sky glaring down in doom. As if the moon itself had been dipped in blood, a crimson complexion now masked its usua
l brilliance. All looked up to it in dread from their miserable bunkers and foxholes.

  One worker couldn’t help himself from commenting, “This is the end of the world.”

  “The Halloween of all Halloweens,” another replied.

  When everything they could manage had been accomplished, everyone retreated into the defenses and waited in the red light.

  ∙ ∙ • ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙

  Connor made his way to Brady’s cell. Silently he entered the room pulling out his side arm. The two guards seemed almost startled at his appearance. Connor ordered them to help with the defenses and leave Brady alone.

  Connor looked at the pistol for a moment before looking up at his old friend. Brady seemed altogether inhuman as he sat crumpled up against the wall twitching.

  “If I kill you,” Connor started, “will they still come?” Brady made no answer or gave any indication that he understood Connor’s words. “If I shoot you through the head and throw your body off the wall, will they be satisfied?”

  The sounds of war came crashing in on Connor’s ears. But he would not be swayed from his task. Connor lifted his weapon until he looked down the barrel at Brady’s head. He meant to pull the trigger. He knew it would be better for everyone. But an image of his first wife filled his eyes. She said nothing to him. In fact, she seemed altogether unaware of Connor. She danced out before him in bright sunlight skipping through the grass.

  When Connor returned to the situation at hand, he found Brady’s eyes had moved to meet his own but Brady remained otherwise the same.

  Connor slowly put his gun back in his holster. He gave the prisoner one last look and Connor stepped outside the room leaving Brady alone.

  A few smaller groups of zombies attacked the eastern wall as if to test the city’s strength. But they were quickly beaten back by Connor’s well laid plans. Connor ran up to one of the guard towers to watch the activity.