He smirked as he pointed out the logo of fangs and the phrase: donate blood. It fit him well.
I shook my head and lifted open the metal door. I was a little jealous he was the only one whose shirt hadn’t stuck to his back awkwardly in the Spring air. Both vehicles roared to life and everybody found a spot for the ride home. I pulled out the bow and quiver of arrows and got comfy between Randolph and Daemon; I hoped the weapon would be unnecessary as we backed onto the glistening street.
The drive back to camp went by quickly and Daemon had been correct, we encountered only a handful of zombies for the first several blocks. I noticed some were hardly decayed; they must have been successful at hiding until very recently. I felt a miniscule pang of remorse for these people. They’d managed to survive the first tsunami of infection, only to be absorbed into the zombie masses weeks later.
A moment of terror and depression compressed my chest as I saw the bleak future ahead for our community. How long could our fresh start last? These people seemed to believe I was able to lead them into a new life, and I prayed to a God I no longer trusted, that they were right.
Failure wasn’t an option, not when so much was at stake. I breathed deeply and slowly. My eyes focused on Ellen’s tiny rabbit foot, as her father rolled it in his palm, to keep my world from tilting me over the edge. Feeling a slight nudge at my side, I realized Daemon was trying to get my attention.
He whispered into my ear.
“Are you okay? Your heart is pounding like a freight train; it’s deafening.”
I caught the hint, and just gave him a little smile and nod. He’d been discrete so that no one would be alarmed. I pressed the fears down into the deepest compartments of my psyche, and concentrated on scanning for approaching enemies. I kept the shotgun along my right leg, in case the hostility came from another human.
Pavement receded as the brush became trees separated by gravel and soil. We’d be at the clearing soon; then work would keep my inner thoughts locked tightly away as bags and equipment were schlepped back to our people.
I noted that the vampire to my left hadn’t needed a donation this evening, even though he vibrated with energy. I wondered how long that one man’s blood would keep the hunger at bay. If the strength held, he could probably fly two or three loads of this treasure to the camp before us humans reached the gate. Tonight wouldn’t be too rough a hike if Daemon brought Cal back with him to lend a hand. Of course, the younger vamp would need to land without damaging his cargo, or himself.
CHAPTER 9 MAY 28TH–31st YEAR 1
To say our return was triumphant would be a bit much, especially considering I’d lost a guy, and there was palpable tension of distrust between one of our vamps and a half dozen of the humans. Nonetheless, as soon as we unpacked our prizes the community shook off those things and rejoiced in our safe reunion. The issues with Daemon were lessened, both by having his mentor near and the previous dangers far.
As far as Dane’s messy end, none of us really liked him; he was an annoying dipshit and no one was terribly sad or shocked to hear of his passing. Our mourning for the deceased was brief and general. I felt guilty at having lost a person, but I never actually grieved over him; it was like the feeling one gets when accidentally running over a stray dog.
As the added bonus of beer and whiskey was displayed, past downers fell away like leaves on an ignored houseplant and were replaced with the anticipation of Christmas morning. Our settlement had worked hard to last this long. Now we’d play hard before crawling hungover to our chores at dawn. Not being much of a drinker, I volunteered to lock up the shotgun and store the last of the supplies. My hands grasped a sack of canned goods and Ramen noodles and I felt a cold palm on my shoulder. Turning expectantly, I was surprised to find the Roman next to me.
“Oh, hey Cal. How can I help you?”
“I merely wanted to offer you some assistance. You seem shocked to see me; were you expecting someone else or did I happen to startle you?”
He peered at me as though trying to read my hand at the poker table. I felt my cheeks redden as I realized his words were closer to home than they should be. I opened my mouth, but the vampire waved his hand and grinned.
“Never mind, I see the answer already. It’s probably due to being in such close confines these last forty-eight hours. May I?”
The box of cookware at my feet floated up to his arms. I trailed behind Cal as he marched to the storage shed, mentally reminding myself not to play cards with him in the future. Once the packages were put away, the elder Undead blocked the doorway. He ran a hand through his blond-gray hair before speaking.
“Squirrel, I know there is a growing affinity between Daemon and yourself. To become romantically involved with a vampire, particularly with a young one, is perilous. I encourage both of you not to pursue this as it can only end badly.”
I opened my mouth to pretend I didn’t know what he meant, but couldn’t find any words.
“You don’t know the obstacles to such relationships; the most basic being that he could kill you if he relaxes his restraint. Remember the steel rod during our training sessions?”
I was blindsided by this birds and bees speech. I think I nodded or something because Caelinus continued his warning, each word making me acutely more embarrassed.
“It takes years and even decades for an immortal to maintain control with emotions. As soon as we become enthused by a person or idea, the hunger grows with each pump of our blood. Whether it’s due to anger, or passion, or actual starvation, the hunger is a dam waiting to burst.
At this point, Daemon’s dam is made of twigs and mud; it will be a long time before he can build it into concrete and steel. Do you understand what I am attempting to say to you?”
He stood straight and his anxiousness was visible in the pained expression he wore. It appeared he spoke from experience and not from an arbitrary code of vampiric living. Shadows of his own life fluttered in his eyes and sorrow walked in the lines of his frown.
“Yes. You’ve made your worries clear. I wasn’t even aware how attached we were becoming until you called me on it. I won’t do anything stupid; you know I’m a survivor. Daemon and I are good friends and that’s all. You’re probably right, it’s mostly just our having been so close these last couple of nights.”
He moved to exit the room and I followed. Walking back to the pile alongside him, I asked,
“Do me a favor and when you talk to Daemon, leave this part out of it. I want to be able to keep the friendship and I can’t do that if he’s uncomfortable around me.”
We lifted two more bags while the children were being shown into their cabin for bed.
“Of course. It would be my pleasure.”
After three more trips, the supplies were all in place and the party was raging. Although the sentries were only allowed one beer max, everyone else was sharing the bottles of Jack Daniels. I witnessed a riotous game of charades around the fire pit as Cal took his protégé to check the perimeter and discuss the prior night’s activities.
I got a sinking sensation in my navel, knowing that it was going to be an awkward conversation. When my turn came around, Chase had to prompt me to stand for my improvised mime session.
The rest of the night went by quickly. I traded guard shifts and sat on the tower with my binoculars after failing miserably at charades.
Seriously, how do you pantomime Forrest Gump?
They gathered around the illumination, telling stories and jokes below while our fangy friends soared overhead. For an instant, the world seemed simple.
Then all the thoughts that had been compressed into a tiny box in my mind rushed out and overwhelmed me. I tried to keep busy by scanning the edge of the woods, but got distracted when it occurred to me that that pointing at the forest would’ve been a useful way to win that round of charades.
Even though I was sober, a kind of mental drunkenness overtook me as I perched on the platform. Things were getting so complicated, despite our
lives getting more secure; vibes of foreboding rippled within me.
As suddenly as the impulse began, it turned to mist. The woods were dark but not overtly dangerous, the camp was in high spirits, a couple was finding use for those condoms behind the latrine, and the children slept soundly gripping their new toys. Life was normal and pleasant.
I shook off the panic and began humming with the sing-a-long that was starting around the embers; it was a medley of Disney songs. Sunny was surprisingly good at Hakuna Matata.
My watch alarm went off at 9:00 AM to create an impromptu serenade of groans from my dehydrated bunkmates. Slipping out of the cabin as unobtrusively as possible, I checked my armaments and cleaned up before breakfast.
Within an hour, the rest of my companions trickled out to attempt downing a meal. I noticed Chase was moving slower than usual. In stark contrast, Sunny seemed her usual perky self, despite having been my relief for guard rotation only a few hours prior. As the couple grabbed plates of my admittedly poor cooking, she teased her disheveled spouse.
“What, no appetite today, Mister-I-will-feel-fine-tomorrow? Did the big bad whiskey make you feel sickies?”
As he stared at the lumpy mass on his plate, Chase briefly shared the complexion of the Incredible Hulk. I laughed along with his wife before joining the game.
“Nah, he’s hungry. He simply doesn’t like how greasy the raccoon meat looks, sliding around his dish. Or maybe it’s the texture of the stewed tomatoes.”
The sunburned man held up both palms. His lips were clenched as he steeled himself against his tumultuous stomach. Finally, he suspended our fit of giggles.
“Okay. I surrender. I was wrong, you were right. I give up; just please stop. I need to keep something down so I can get the new fishing gear out and check the old lines.”
He resembled a child pleading for a toy or to stay up late. Chase had managed to perfect wounded puppy dog eyes. Sunny beamed as she handed him some water and set a bottle of aspirin on the table. All eyes were fixated on the tiny white container with the childproof cap.
“This will help everyone have a better day; it was in the medicine cabinet in our safehouse yesterday. Everyone take two, eat, drink water, and get moving.” She turned to Chase, “Feel better soon Honey.”
She finished her last bite and kissed his forehead.
“See you later. Squirrel and I are going to get some firewood and maybe get a little hunting done. Love you.”
Chase smiled as he shoved another forkful of stew into his mouth and waved. The bottle had already rattled its way around the table, giving hope to the masses. We grabbed an axe, my bow, and a gunny bag from the shed on the way to our chores.
We exited the safety of the glimmering steel wall, and wove our way between the pits and Chevaux-de-Frise (a structure I learned about in a book about civil war defenses; it looks like a series of sharpened X’s with a tree trunk connecting them in a row). I mentally noted that our patchwork of wooden prongs needed to be repositioned and sharpened.
As I examined the condition of our protective measures, Sunny pointed at one of them; there was a fleshie partially impaled twenty feet to our left. It was still ambling after us from our raid – the Dead often followed the sound of the trucks until they found someone to eat.
It was bringing the framework closer to camp glacially as it threw all its strength into the spike with every step. When we moved closer to destroy the carcass, it became aware of us and started tugging sideways and reaching its tattered arms.
The thing had clearly been infected for some time; the skin had receded from its fingertips, leaving talons of bone and nail. The face was sunken and ashen, an eye swung with each movement; it was a bulbous pendulum. A twinge of recognition wavered in my gut, but no name came to mind.
Probably someone who I’d seen at the parks before the world died. Don’t try to remember, just deal with it.
My sword was drawn and Sunny adjusted her grip on the axe as we drew beside our detained quarry. The police uniform it wore was stained and torn; I noticed the collar still held a little crease. Suddenly, my partner gasped and recoiled; the color drained from her face. I gazed at her, startled by her loss of composure.
“Are you alright? What happened?”
She was unresponsive as the zombie made a guttural noise. My concern grew as I took a hand from my sword and touched her shoulder. Her eyes welled up with tears as she stammered out a reply.
“It-it’s my brother-in-law, Kyle. I thought…I thought he and his family had…I know it’s foolish, but I thought they…left. Found somewhere safe. Chase and I hoped…maybe.” She trailed off as the truth sank in and grief overtook her.
That was the recognition; he looked like Chase. Sunny’s fortitude had crumbled. This was family. My heart ached for her as the departed, formerly known as Kyle, dragged the edged rails in our direction. I thought carefully before disturbing that quiet.
“Turn around. I’ll put his body to rest. Remember, that isn’t Kyle anymore; it’s the infection that took him away. Just turn around and watch the horizon.”
She barely had the axe handle in her hands as she fixated on his remains. I wasn’t even sure Sunny had understood me.
“Sunny?”
She finally shifted her gaze to me.
“The rest of the family isn’t here. They could still be fine. One day they may even wander here, safe and sound. I’m sorry, but Kyle is long gone; that isn’t Kyle anymore. Please just turn away and keep watch. I promise I’ll be quick. His remains will be at rest and his spirit will be able to find peace.”
I heard a sniffle as she rotated away and dropped the weapon on the ground. Moving swiftly, I closed the distance to the zombie and drove my blade through its skull. Weeping instantly drowned the squelching sound of the blow; it was over.
I waited a moment to be sure it wouldn’t rise again before pulling the corpse free and dragging it to a dip in the ground. There was nothing of use to remove; I pulled the lighter from my pocket and cremated the body in the small trench. There was no vegetation to catch fire, so I walked away.
Gathering Sunny from where she’d collapsed, I half-carried her back up to the entrance of our village.
As we made our way past the field being tended, all work stopped. The sentry shouted for Chase. Entering the camp, the weapon dropped from Sunny’s trembling palms. Randolph picked it up and took my sack as well; he tapped another man and they left to do our task. Chase flitted through the meager crowd and grabbed his wife. With panic etched on his face, he belted questions at no one and everyone in a flurry.
“What happened? Are you all right? Is she hurt? Was there an attack? Were you injured or bitten or something? Sweetie, are you okay? What do I need to do?”
She hugged him and sobbed. Chase seemed to lose his voice in her sorrow. I could see faces checking for wounds around them.
“I’m sorry, Chase. There was a Dead in one of the C-frame defenses; it was your brother. I, um, dealt with the situation. Sunny isn’t hurt, but she’s devastated. I’m sorry for you both. You two should take some time. The remains are being cremated to the left side of camp if you want to say goodbye to Kyle.”
It was disheartening to see our strongest people in consummate agony. Chase held her to his chest and cried with her. They rocked slightly as the rest of us peeled away, afraid to bother the despondent couple. When I left, I saw the kids near the second cabin.
Their play had halted while they watched everyone’s worst fear striking low the toughest amongst our number. Michael led the girls inside, hiding the sight from his sister with his cupped palm. Ellen’s Mom scurried to hug her child. The rest of the day, no one complained about hangovers or aches or their work.
Chase eventually walked with Sunny to bid farewell to his brother’s ashes. After that, they both remained within the fort, cooking and cleaning until the Sun slept. Words were sparse in the community as everybody threw themselves into their errands. Where their thoughts were can only be g
uessed.
I forced visions of my loved ones in similar state into that tiny compartment in my head. Two of my closest friends were hurting, and nothing I could do or say would change that. Instead, I went out to fix the traps with one of the Jamaican men I could hardly understand – I called him Marley Guy. Thankfully, he liked the nickname. We filed the spikes and lined the rail walls up correctly. It was like preparing for the next bad thing somehow made this one less painful.
Checking the pits, we found two more fleshies to destroy. A third had landed with the spike through its brain, rendering it permanently deceased. The two of us gathered what was left of the infected fiends in the burning patch and added some more kindling.
When we returned, no one mentioned our findings: the two children had resembled Chase and the other had been a woman. Even though we couldn’t be sure of their identities, we didn’t want to risk snatching away the last scraps of hope from the grieving pair.
There was no scheming or plotting, just an unspoken understanding that they’d be spared from that despair. I saw the sparkle of the guard’s binoculars as we carried out our dismal errand. If he saw our doings, he kept the knowledge to himself.
Night fell and I realized Cal and Daemon would be arriving soon. I strode to the portal in the wall to meet them first and recount the day’s events; it seemed wrong not to warn them of the change in our friends’ demeanors.
That night was as somber and cheerless as the prior night had been enthused and jovial. Over the coming weeks, the camp eased back into its routine and the couple transformed gingerly into their old selves. Occasionally, a wisp of clouds envelops their gaze, but they always returned to the present.
CHAPTER 10 EARLY/MID JUNE YEAR 1
The spring was flying by and hurricane season charged forward. There was a lot of work to be done if we would get through the storms without a warning system. Our storage was full of provisions to weather the potentially deadly season.
After The End Page 7