State of Grace

by M. Lauryl Lewis

  “Not really. Could be oil. Or blood.”

  “I’m not seeing any movement. One of us needs to go over and check it out. The truck. The dark spot. All of it.”

  “I’ll go,” I said quickly.

  “Let’s back out and talk to Bren and Kendall.”

  We retreated from our perch under the truck and waved the others nearer. A crow flew overhead, cawing at something only it could see. Aside from that single bird, silence surrounded us. The four of us looked at each other before Chanel spoke.

  “We didn’t see any movement, just a dark spot on the road at the back of the truck. Zoe’s volunteered to go look but the whole thing makes me nervous. If they’re survivors we need to offer help, but if they have ill intentions, we don’t want to lead them home.”

  “Or it could be a trap,” said Kendall.

  “Or that,” agreed Chanel.

  “Or that,” I echoed flatly as I suddenly stood.

  Chanel reached for me, but I was faster. As I walked to the front of our own truck, I mumbled about how there was only one way to find out. I held my breath as my head cleared the top of the hood, leaving me exposed to gunfire. Shots didn’t come and I made my way to the street, weapon at the ready. A light breeze blew, stirring a few stray hairs that escaped my braid.

  “Zoe! Come back!”

  Already nearly to the other truck, I held up a hand. I saw nothing at all that was suspicious, aside from the truck and what indeed looked like a pool of blood at the tailgate. I kept my pistol aimed ahead as I got within arm’s reach of the vehicle. Inside the cab was a disaster. Magazines, Twinkie wrappers, cigarette butts, and empty beer cans were strewn about. After I made sure no one was inside the cab, I quickly flattened my back to the driver’s door and look to each side of me. Still nothing notable to see, I turned back around and quickly walked to the back of the pickup. I could tell by the smell of iron the puddle was indeed blood. The top layer was already forming a layer of glumpy clots, indicating it hadn’t been spilled long ago but was also not completely fresh. I finished clearing the perimeter, all while constantly scanning the nearby shadows for any signs of danger. The situation was odd and gave me the willies. I held up a hand to signal the other women to stay on the other side of the road. I saw no reason for them to reveal their presence, just in case we were being watched.

  I proceeded to climb into the back of the truck. The top edge of the tailgate was slick with gore, causing my stomach to drop a bit. I wiped my soiled palms on my jeans and proceeded forward, toward an ice chest. It was large, taking up more than half the width of the truck bed. Blood was smeared around the edges of the container with one unmistakable handprint centered on the white lid. My heart pounded as I considered opening it. I squatted in front of it, ready to spring up and run if needed. Preparing for the worst, I used my hands to leverage the lid open. The sight inside was not what I had expected to find. I became so overwhelmed by the loss of life that I didn’t notice someone behind me.

  “What is it?” asked Chanel gently as she placed a hand on my shoulder.

  I found myself not able to answer.

  “Aww, shit,” said Chanel, echoing my feelings.

  I forced myself to take a couple of deep breaths. “I hope it was quick,” I said in a small shaky voice. “They couldn’t have been more than a couple days old.”

  I used the back of my hand to wipe away a tear that threatened to fall. The twin babies were naked, attached at the pelvis. A third deformed leg twisted around to their front. It only had a rudimentary stub for a foot. The umbilical cord the babies had shared was larger than normal, the base taking up a large portion of their shared abdomen. It hung precariously to one side, dangling precariously as if might tear away from the babies at any moment. The cord itself was tied into a knot and still several inches long. The baby on the left seemed to be eternally staring at his brother. While layers of moist skin peeled from them, it was still clear that they had lighter streaks littering their bodies.

  “I’m sorry, Zoe. I know it’s really tough for you.”

  “Yeah,” I responded.

  “Let’s get going. There’s nothing left here. Brenda and Kendall are waiting in the truck.”

  “I wonder who the blood is from,” I said as I tried to collect myself.

  “Impossible to say. C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

  I closed the lid on the cooler, sealing the babies back inside. Chanel and I climbed out of the pickup bed and made our way back to our own vehicle.

  The sisters had climbed back into the truck, Brenda behind the wheel with Kendall beside her. Chanel and I climbed into the back seats.

  ***

  Once we entered the town of Winthrop, I was surprised to see so many of the buildings were intact. It was a small town. Tall pine trees bordered the main street, making it rather picturesque. On one side of the street, the storefronts were all connected by an old fashioned wood plank walkway. Each store blended into the next: Wall’s Ice Cream Parlor, Carlos’ Barber Shop, The Teatime Café, Wendall’s Books, Olde Towne Apothecary...

  “We got tons of meds from the town pharmacy over a year ago, but it’s empty now. There were no signs of break-ins, so we’re guessing there’s some locals left here.”

  “Where?” I asked.

  “Your guess is as good as anyone’s,” said Kendall. “Probably in hiding somewhere.”

  “We need to take a detour through the east part of town. The main highway has a semi truck overturned in the middle of it, blocking access. We’ve never bothered moving it since there’s an alternate road. It just ads a few minutes,” said Chanel.

  “I want to be in and out within about ten minutes or so,” said Brenda.

  “Bren’s our resident planner for this kinda stuff. She comes up with some wild predictions and statistics on risks.”

  “Cool,” I said, for lack of anything else to say.

  “Focus on finding anything that might help us back home. Fertilizer. Seeds. Rain barrels. Tools. You guys know the routine,” added Brenda.

  “What routine?” I asked.

  “Sorry, I think Bren forgot you’re new to our routine. She waits with the truck. Any signs of danger she’ll whistle first and shoot second. You hear either, then hightail it back to the truck,” said Kendall with a yawn.

  I got the impression she was tired of the routine.

  “Got it,” I said.

  “Take your backpack with you. Always,” warned Brenda. “You never know when you might not get back to the truck in time.”

  I smiled at her. “Point well taken.”

  We continued driving, winding through the now-empty streets until the town was behind us. Once back on the main highway, with the overturned semi impressively close to blocking the on-ramp, we picked up speed. There were fewer abandoned cars on that stretch of road. An old barn sat in a dilapidated heap off to the right, the earth threatening to reclaim it at any time.

  “That’s the old Cotter homestead,” informed Chanel. “They were early settlers around here. Somewhere in that field there’s the ruins of a fireplace from their first cabin.”

  “It looks like it’s about to disappear,” I said.

  “Yeah. One day it’ll be gone. One day all of this will,” she said with a heavy sigh.

  “Corpse at 2 o’clock,” said Kendall.

  “Should we stop and kill it?” I asked.

  “Nah. Not with just one,” said Brenda.

  The Roamer in the field looked pathetically decayed. Its clothes were hanging in tatters, but oddly in better shape than the creature’s decomposing skin. It swung its body as our truck passed, as if wanting to hitch a ride.

  “Nasty bastards,” mumbled Chanel.

  “I’m surprised we haven’t seen more,” I said.

  “Hey, is it true you used to be able to sense when they’re around?” asked Kendall.

  She turned to look at me.

  “Yeah. Gus thinks I was infected the day this all started. For some reason
it left me with the curse of them filling my head. I haven’t been able to sense them, though, since just before we ended up with all of you.”

  “Was it pretty cool?” pressed Kendall.

  I looked at her, my eyes wide. “No. It sucked. I could feel their hunger. See through their eyes. It was miserable.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted.

  “Okay kids, time to go. The nursery’s just around this bend on our left. Remember, quick-in, quick-out.”

  Within moments, the nursery came into view. It wasn’t much to look at: a chain link fence that was leaning badly along one side, two greenhouse tent frames that wore ragged plastic covers, and a building about the size of a high school gymnasium.

  Brenda pulled into the parking lot, swerving to avoid a large pothole, and carefully backed the truck up in front of the main entrance.

  “Okay, let’s go. I’ll open the front door and make some noise. Zoe, Kendall, be ready in case there’s any dead shitheads that creep up?”

  I opened the crew cab door, slid down to the ground, swung my backpack over both shoulders, and readied my pistol.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  Brenda stayed behind with the truck while the rest of us made our way to the main door of the nursery. Someone at some point had spray painted a large orange X across the swinging doors. The paint had faded and much was worn away, but the letters c-l-e-a-r were still legible.

  “Looks like someone got here before us,” said Kendall.

  “Look,” I said to get their attention. “There’s a note.”

  On the left side of the door was a weathered plastic sleeve with a folded piece of paper inside. Something was scribbled in cursive. Chanel reached inside and removed the paper.

  “It looks pretty damaged,” she said.

  As she unfolded it, spots of black mold and faded ink blended together. Very few words were legible.

  Headed...a’s..Prairie. Safe inside...we lost...stay...

  “What do you think it says?” asked Kendall.

  “Impossible to say,” I said.

  “Let’s get inside so we can hurry and get back home,” said Chanel.

  “Should we break the glass?” asked Kendall.

  “I have a better idea,” I said as I approached the plastic sleeve that held the note.

  Reaching inside, I pulled out a rusting key. The front doors were held shut by a metal chain and padlock. The key and lock were both weathered and rusted, causing the key to resist entry. Eventually it wiggled in, and the lock tumblers moved when I turned the key.

  “Nice,” said Kendall.

  “I didn’t even see the damned key in there,” said Chanel.

  I unwrapped the metal chain, taking care to make the least amount of noise possible. Once the door handles were free, I looked at the other two women, who both nodded at me. I placed one hand on the door handle and tightened my grip on my pistol with the other. Holding my breath, I pushed the door inward. I was met with silence. I slowly exhaled and worked my way into the dimly lit store. I resisted the urge to cough when dust invaded my lungs. I looked back at Kendall and Chanel briefly. They, too, were on high alert. The tension on their faces was easy to read.

  A four-sided wire display rack lay on the floor by my feet. It appeared to have been knocked over in a hurry as seed packets littered the floor. I kept my pistol aimed in front of me and walked toward a pair of metal shelves that at one time held store stock. Now, they were empty.

  “I’ll check the back,” said Kendall.

  “Zoe, can you grab the seeds off the floor? It’s better than leaving with nothing.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “I’m gonna search the registers. If we’re lucky something got left behind.”

  “’Kay.”

  I knelt down and began picking up packets of seeds. More than half of them were damp, rendering them useless. It didn’t take long to pick and choose. Sunflowers, cucumbers, red leaf lettuce, pumpkin, kale, cauliflower, onions, and corn were amongst those salvageable. As I began to stand the air in the large room grew heavy and uncomfortable. I tightened my grip on my gun and focused on all of my senses. For the first time in months, the one sense I had been cursed with alarmed inside of my mind. It was no more than the faintest of a tickle, but unmistakable. I quickly turned around in a circle, searching for the source. Seeing nothing, I backed up toward the cash registers, where I hoped to cross paths with Chanel.

  Without knowing where either of the other two women were, exactly, I kept my pistol aimed slightly toward the floor for safety. Whatever was invading my mind felt far away, but was quickly approaching our location.

  “Chanel,” I called quietly.

  “Over here,” she called back, not taking much care to keep quiet.

  “Shhh!” I snapped.

  Hearing the strain in my voice, she too took a stance of caution.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “There’s dead near. Where’s Kendall?”

  “How do you know?”

  “Don’t ask. Not now. We need to get Kendall and go,” I said with urgency.

  “She took some bags of potting soil out to the pickup,” she whispered back.

  “Let’s go. Now.”

  I picked up my bug-out bag and swung it over my shoulder as we made our way to the front door. Chanel reached for the handle, but I pulled her arm back.

  “Don’t,” I cautioned.

  “We have to warn them.”

  “It’s too late. Look just to the right of the door,” I said.

  “Oh God, no...” moaned Chanel.

  Just to the right of the building store front, a leg rested in a pool of blood. I recognized Brenda’s boot, down to the hot pink laces. Severed at the thigh, strands of bloody flesh clung to the concrete. It was surreal seeing it not attached to a body.

  “Maybe Kendall’s okay,” I said to try to calm Chanel. My voice was strained and clearly full of horror, only making matters worse.

  Her face was pained and her eyes red. I knew she was full of initial grief, but also deep anger.

  “We won’t be any good to her if we’re dead too,” I continued. “Let’s be smart and keep alert. Let’s try for the roof, where we can see what’s going on?” I suggested.

  Chanel nodded.

  “There’s a mezzanine above the registers. I think we can get out one of the windows up there,” she whispered.

  A violent growl sounded outside, causing the glass doors to rattle.

  “Fuck me,” grumbled Chanel through a clenched jaw.

  I pulled on her sleeve as I made my way toward the cash registers. Along the side wall, hidden in shadow, was a narrow wooden staircase. We hurriedly climbed as the monstrous sounds outside intensified.

  The mezzanine was small, dark, and dusty. Boxes were stacked neatly at one end and a cot and blanket at the other. A single window overlooked the side yard of the building. Cries of agony rang out somewhere below and not too far away. It was impossible to say if it was Brenda, but I had a hard time imaging she might still be alive. There was too much blood from her amputation. Chanel and I looked at each other in understanding. I motioned upward. The building didn’t feel safe. The doors were unlocked and whatever was outside had easy access to us where we stood. The roof was our best bet. With luck, we’d be able to go out the window and climb up.

  “Now,” I whispered.

  We knelt below the small window. Chanel disengaged the small slide bolt and I removed a poor man’s lock - a length of thick wood dowel - that kept it from opening upward.

  The air around us grew still and heavy. Glass shattered below, immediately followed by a wet grunting noise. The smell of decay followed.

  “Go,” I whispered urgently.

  The stillness of the air was relieved only by the fresh air streaming in from the newly open window. Chanel climbed through the opening head-first, twisting her body as she pulled her butt through.

  “Zoe, there’s just a sketchy
metal ladder. I’m not sure it’ll hold both of us, or even one of us.”

  The growling and grunting closer, a shiver ran up my spine. As soon as her knees cleared the sill, I began my own exit. Just like old times, my hip was throbbing and my mind was filled with sensations that did not belong to me. The incessant hunger of the dead was absent, and in its place anger and hate ran deep. I was certain I could feel one above other. I wasn’t aware of what it wanted at that moment, but my instinct to put distance between it and myself was urgent.

  “Go,” I growled, urging Chanel to climb faster.

  The roof was at least twenty feet above her, and the ladder ended just shy of the edge. Undaunted by the lack of a rung to reach the flat roof, Chanel grabbed onto the edging and hoisted herself upward. The intensity of the creature inside the building was audible to us both, but its inner desires were my burden to bear. I was nearly to the top of the ladder when Chanel toppled to safety. As I reached to grab the last rung, the building shook. I lost my footing, leaving me dangling by my injured arm. Searing pain traveled from my shoulder to my fingertips. The creature below was aware that we were no longer inside, driving it mad with anger. Dangling precariously, I looked up to the roof. Chanel leaned over the edge and reached down to me. I found a rung of the ladder with my feet to steady myself. The ceaseless growling of the creature grew irritatingly loud from the open window below. I hoisted myself upward as fast as I could, eventually landing on my side on the rooftop.

  I surveyed the surface quickly. The flat roof was barren of ash, but served as home to years of fallen leaves and debris and was littered with puddles of stagnant rain water. In a far corner a small metal structure with a large fan built into one side beckoned to us. I drew my gun, as did Chanel, and we ran for the structure. The building shook again, this time feeling like a deep rumble. The screams of the creature below changed to sounds of a brawl; the grunts and moans and cries of more than one creature. My head was filled with rage, but now also fear.

  “Whatever’s in there, we need to split before their attention is back on us,” I said quickly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re fighting. I don’t know why. We need to get to the truck.”