I worked quickly, pulling a sheet from one of the other bedrooms and a towel from the bathroom, and brought them to the body. Taking a moment to move the pistol and his satchel out of sight, I wrapped him in the sheet and carefully mopped up the small pool of blood. I had imagined that a living person would bleed more, but that was something that I hadn’t needed to think about before.
I opened the back door and pulled, with great effort, the body into the chill night. It was important to me that I move the body from the home, far enough away that Madi wouldn’t accidentally see it; I didn’t want to have to explain why I did what I did. With my muscles straining, I pulled the body across the uneven ground, staying in the large open plain. While it was perhaps it was a better hiding spot, I couldn’t quite work the courage to return to the nearby woods at night.
Further I walked, my muscles threatening to give way with every step, determined to crest the gently rising hill until I was out of the line of sight. Gradually, the crest grew closer, until I reached the top and started down the other side. I stopped, dropping the sheet, only vaguely aware of the sound of the body falling limply to the rocky ground. Ahead, lit by the moonlight, was a new nightmare- a field of carefully placed bodies lay before me in neat, long rose. There was obvious care in the way they were placed, which was juxtaposed by the brutality evident on the bodies themselves.
I guessed that it was the man inside that had done this; a husband and father, acting with a calculated efficiency to create this sea of death. Being closer, the smell of decay reached my nostrils, and I realized that the wind hadn’t yet shifted since we had been there, effectively keeping the smell from the home. It appeared that they had held out for some time, while dispatching the small groups and single creatures that had come.
I admired the man for that, in a way, and added another body to his collection.
Chapter IX: North
I dreamed that night of the time that I was, as a young child, visiting my grandparents in Wisconsin for Christmas. There was a record blizzard that year, and we were housebound for most of the time.
When the snow finally stopped falling and began to clear, I went out with my little sister, Serena, to play in the drifts. While we were exploring, she spied a sleek black cat partially buried under the snow. As we grew closer, the cat didn’t move, and I knew that it was dead. With a child’s curiosity, we came closer to see.
What we found was tragic, to a child. The cat was curled in a ball around two kittens. Each was still.
Serena started to bawl. “We have to help them!” She pleaded.
I knew that the chances were slim, at best, but indulged my sister. I took off my coat, feeling the cold biting my skin, and gingerly picked up the family of felines. They were stiff, but light enough to carry. With Serena running ahead, I pushed through the deep snow towards the house.
When we arrived, the home was empty, my Grandparents having left for town to restock on firewood and food. Serena ran from the bathroom, the sound of rushing water following behind her. “We need to warm them up, come on!” She yelled as she ran back into the room.
Carefully, we placed the cats in the rising warm water. They floated, but otherwise didn’t move. “Come on, come on,” I heard Serena behind me. I could hear the tears in her voice. I focused on trying to warm the cat and her kittens.
“What are you two doing?” I heard Grandma’s soft voice behind us, and I pushed the water lever to off.
Serena ran to her and buried her face in her grandma’s waist. “Grammy, we found a cat and her babies and they’re frozen! Please help us; we’re trying to warm them up so they’ll come back to life.”
Grandma kneeled down to Serena, and she and I exchanged knowing looks.
“Jack?” Grandma called. A moment later, my Grandpa appeared in the doorway.
“Hi, kids!” He smiled. He always smiled. Sweat glistened on his forehead- he had been loading the firewood.
“Jack, could you please take Serena to the kitchen for some hot cocoa?” She asked as she gently pushed her towards Grandpa. She turned to Serena and smiled, “I’ll take a look at the cats.”
When Serena and Grandpa left, I told Grandma the story, about how we found them and how important it was to my sister. My Grandma was a tough, practical woman, a product of the depression, but she had a heart of gold. As far as my sister ever knew, the cats went to the vet that night and were enjoying a cat-food breakfast, safe and sound in the kitchen when she woke in the morning. In reality, the local animal shelter supplied the identical replacement cats; coerced to open early by a loving grandma and the originals received a brief, but respectful burial in the backyard.
That story, that brief snapshot from my youth, had stalked my thoughts recently, although I wasn’t sure why. Finally, it made sense. If anywhere was actually “safe”, it would be the extreme north, well above the snowline. The undead, they wouldn’t have the sense to protect themselves against the harsh elements, and would most likely freeze in place.
Or so I hoped.
Madi was watching me, as I was lost in thought. We had been eating breakfast, as always supplemented by apples, when I came back to reality.
“Whatcha thinking about?” She asked innocently.
“We’re going to move on tomorrow. We’ve stayed here long enough, and it’s time to move,” I answered. I was still shaken, and struggling to hide that fact, from last night.
“Okay. Where are we going?”
“We’re going up North, to the snow. We won’t have to worry about those things anymore, and we’ll be able to live a normal life, away from all this. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.” What I didn’t mention was the inevitability that we’d never be able to truly feel at home here- if it wasn’t the undead, it would be the living; and I still believed that the living were worse.
She seemed a little concerned at the idea, but she was trusting. “Okay, that’s a good idea,” she consoled me with a smile.
She was silent again as I returned to my thoughts, considering our upcoming trip.
I made the day as normal as possible for my daughter, so that she might not have to dwell on the next day like I was. We ate sparingly, but filled our time harvesting and packing the remaining ripened apples, reading books and playing with her new-found toys. It was always good, anymore, to see her acting like a child, something that I took for granted a lifetime ago. Something that I knew was already lost forever.
The time we spent together that day was quality, the kind of time that one spends when they don’t know how much more of it they have left.
It wasn’t until Madi was sound asleep that I began to pack. I packed light, emptying both of our bags to start fresh. I still believed that she needed enough food and supplies to survive on her own, if something happened to me, and weighed that carefully against packing light so we didn’t tire too easily. I noticed that she had slipped several toys and books into her bag at some point- a small selection of her apparent favorites. I left them in.
I pulled out the intruder’s belongings and set the holster and weapon aside; it would fit perfectly under my coat. The satchel I kept mostly as it was- the man had chosen his supplies wisely. There was ammunition set into speed-loaders, some first-aid supplies, a bit of trail mix and other necessities. It would, at least, be enough for a short time if we had to abandon our packs. I packed the small domed tent and camp shovel carefully, and tied the sleeping bags to my pack. I knew that, at some point, we would have to consider cold weather survival. What we had now wouldn’t be enough.
I wondered if that’s was what happened to the man- that he realized that he didn’t have enough to survive. I wondered, also, if he had a family that was still waiting for him to return. It was so easy in the movies… In real life, killing someone stayed with me. Maybe eventually I’d get used to it, but for now I was left putting myself in his position- I would have done the same thing, to feed the family that my mind told me that he must have had, and I’m sure he would have d
one the same as I did. But, the worst part is that I didn’t know, for sure, that it was true.
Readying for the next day was somewhat steadying, but it still felt late before I crawled into bed next to my little girl. As far as I knew, we were the only people left alive- I didn’t know for sure otherwise, which I realized was another comfort that I missed. It was a very lonely feeling to fall asleep to.
I didn’t dream that night, and woke up to Madi stirring next to me. We didn’t spend long getting ready; a light breakfast, then using the last of the water that we weren’t taking with us to clean ourselves, best we could. The opportunity wasn’t always available. We set off with nothing more than what we could carry, the cool morning chill still hanging in the air and the sun burning off the last of the clouds that had developed in the night. We walked generally north along an old, uneven cart path that wound into the woods. The canopy overhead was sparse, and the morning light streamed easily onto the ground, casting dancing shadows onto our path. It actually felt nice to leave the house, especially now that we finally had a destination.
We hiked briskly for a child and an out-of-shape man, resting only briefly when we needed to. In my mind, and I believed Madi’s too, there was a creature behind every bend or every tree but over time, as we grew further away from any civilization, that fear began to lessen. We began to talk lightheartedly; I was learning things about my daughter that I never knew- how she felt about boys, that she wanted to be a pilot when she grew up, her favorite TV show. I wondered if any of those things would ever exist again.
“Dad?” Madi said.
“Yeah?”
“Dad, I’m getting tired. Are we going to stop soon?”
The sky was beginning to darken; night was coming.
“Sure. This looks like a good a spot as any,” I said, motioning to a clearing a few yards of the path. There was room to conceal our site, and the ground was dry and overgrown enough that we should be able to hear anything approach. It seemed safe enough, which was all I really hoped to find.
As Madi collected firewood from the immediate area, I set up the tent and tucked our meager belongings inside before climbing through the flap. I saw that Madi had worked hard with sweat forming on her brow and a sizable pile of sticks, twigs and branches at her feet.
She saw my expression. “I didn’t want us to have to be looking around for more wood in the dark,” she explained.
I smiled. “Good work.”
I cleared a pit and got the fire lit just as the sun slipped over the horizon. We sat together on a fallen log, talking low, and forgetting for a moment that the world had gone to hell around us.
Chapter X: The Woods
Woken by an uncomfortable cold, we packed and got an early start. The fire had gone out in the night, and was still smoking lazily from charred wood. Past habits compelled me to use the small camp shovel to suffocate the embers.
Today’s pace was slower. Our tender feet were throbbing with new blisters from yesterday, and our calves were sore; we moved on, however, driven by our innate need to survive. As we passed into a large clearing, I saw that its serene beauty stood in stark contrast to the woods on the other side, where the path continued. Merely looking at the other side brought an unnamable sensation of dread that sat heavy in the pit of my stomach. A weathered, hand-drawn sign had been nailed to a lonely tree:
‘Don’t leave the path’
Its simplicity was terrifying, and my mind took the inevitable journey to wonder what would happen if we did. What, I wondered, was off the path?
The tree line was thick and continued far into either direction, and there was no telling how far was safe to go around. Similarly, returning the way we came seemed, at best, fruitless if not dangerous. It occurred to me we were best to follow the sign’s advice. Madi timidly agreed.
We tracked through the narrow path. It appeared to be largely unused, evidenced by the struggling plants, choked off from the sunlight by the thick unforgiving canopy. This, incidentally, cast the shadows in an ominous shade on the wood’s floor, unlike the lively dancing shadows from the other side. We quickened our pace and Madi walked closer to me, eager to come out on the other end of the path as soon as possible. Neither of us spoke as we pressed on, deeper into the thick wood.
Madi stopped and motioned me close. “Do you hear anything?” She whispered.
I strained to listen. “No, I don’t hear anything.” I whispered back.
“Me neither. Nothing,” she replied.
I realized then what she was saying. The silence was disturbing; No birds calling, no soft footsteps of animals in the woods, even the air seemed still. We walked on, each of us fighting the urge to simply run.
Madi ran then, but not down the path; instead she bolted to the edge of the path and dropped to a crouch. She swung the pack to her feet and began hastily tearing through its contents. After the momentary shock wore off, I ran to her and kneeled by her side, straining to see what it was that caused her to bolt.
“Madi, what are you doing?” I hissed.
She didn’t respond.
“Madi!” I spoke, louder.
She didn’t look up and continued to dig through her pack. “Mom… Jake…” was all she offered in explanation.
“What?” I asked, puzzled and terrified.
She rose, bringing her binoculars to her eyes and desperately scanning the woods.
I rose to a crouch rested my hand on her shoulder. “Madi-”
“There!” She interrupted. My eyes shot to where she pointed, where I could see a figure just disappear behind a thick brush.
I stood fully. “What the f-”
Before I could finish, Madi tore into the brush in pursuit of the figure, calling after it. I dropped my pack hard to the ground and ran after her. I tried to catch her, but her delicate feet were more confident of the uneven terrain.
She began to call out, “Mommy!” as she ran; I hadn’t held out hope, but the bizarre situation made it seem somehow possible. I considered that we lived in a world in which the dead were walking- anything was possible.
She stopped suddenly, allowing me to catch up to her and gain a firm grasp on her arm. Before I could pull her back to the path, I saw why she had stopped. Unaware of our presence, a creature, once a woman, shuffled past close to where we hid. Her face was badly torn, with bone and teeth showing through her cheeks. In her arms was a young child that was still, with the characteristically emotionless undead gaze.
“Dad, it’s Mom and Jake! Do you see them?”
It wasn’t them. Close, though; it was remarkable coincidence in their age and type of clothing, but I knew that it wasn’t them.
“Madi, honey, that’s not them- I’m sorry, but it’s not. Let’s get back to the road.” I pulled her arm. She pulled back.
“Dad, it is them. Look! Can’t you see that?”
I knew that it wasn’t them. I suspected that she knew it, too. But I also suspected that she needed it to be them, whether living or undead, for her chance to say goodbye.
I breathed deep and lied again. “You’re right, Madi. It’s them, you’re right- I couldn’t see it at first. We found them.”
Tears were welling in her eyes. I knew that she needed this. “We gotta give them a good funeral, Dad. They deserve better than this.” At least she was no longer holding out hope that they made it out alive.
“Yeah, they do.” I wasn’t comfortable risking my own life to bury a stranger, tragic as her death may be. If not for Madi, I wouldn’t have.
As the woman hobbled away, I saw a thick rope began to rise. It was tied securely to her waist, fixing her to a solid tree trunk. She reached the end and the rope pulled taut. Unthinkingly, she reversed her direction and began to walk the way she had come until she reached the end again and did the same.
“Stay here, Madi,” I said, stepping from the brush into a small, dry clearing. The sad creature’s posture changed noticeably when it saw me; even the child in her arms started to squirm f
rantically. Each, I could see, struggled to open their mouths, but I saw with revulsion that they had been sewn shut.
I turned to Madi and saw her watching, wide-eyed. “Turn around, Madi,” I said. She didn’t seem to hear. “Madi!” I shouted. She blinked heavily, shaking her head as she came out of her daze, and then buried her head in her hands.
The creature grew closer, curiously still clutching the child. I could see her teeth gnashing through the hole in either cheek as she vainly tried to open her mouth; a rag appeared to have been stuffed inside, and a corner of the cloth began to work into the hole. The child was doing the same, driven by some horrible instinct. I leveled my shot and waited before squeezing the trigger.
Crack!
My ears rang with the concussion. The creature’s head whipped to the side as the round grazed her skull, splitting her forehead with the fresh wound. The neck apparently broken, her head rested at a bizarre angle as she continued to close. She continued, slower but no less ferociously. I adjusted and fired again.
Crack!
Her head whipped backwards and folded over with a snap from her spine, resting behind her own shoulders. Her body fell sideways, rolled to the front and was still.
As I stood over the body, my ears ringing, I saw the undead child struggling to pull itself from under her weight. The empty eyes stared greedily as its hands tore at the dirt. This time, I couldn’t watch. I leveled the pistol and closed my eyes.
Crack!
When I opened my eyes, both bodies were still. The only sound was the unusually strong rustling of the wind in the upper trees, and the sound of the animals that I hadn’t heard before, frightened into action by the noise. I sympathized with their fears.
I walked to where Madi was kneeling and heard her muffled sobs. Tears ran from between her fingers and her shoulders heaved. I kneeled next to her, holding her close. Neither of us spoke until her sobs began to subside. She pulled at my shirt and wiped her eyes dry, then her nose, leaving a trail on the fabric. I smiled- her mother used to do the same thing.
Dahmer Flu Page 10