by Brad Knight
Instead of sympathy, Amber became frustrated like a mother with a misbehaving child. Amber tried talking Gustavo into cooperating, but the ordeal was out of his control. He certainly didn’t want to die in such a mundane but horrible way. Paralysis had a way of mucking up an individual’s wishes.
In frustration, Amber tried to manually make Gustavo swallow. She manipulated his throat with her hands. With no medical knowledge, she squeezed and massaged a bit too rough.
“Drink.”
Gustavo gargled and choked on the water. The more he struggled, the more upset Amber got. Instead of doing the sensible thing and stopping, she titled the bottle up even more until it was empty.
Somehow, someway, Gustavo was able to will himself to swallow the water and not drown. He wanted to die minutes before. But the prospect of being drowned by a teenager was enough to make him fight for life. At least for that moment.
“You ready to go?” asked Mack as he came back into the dining room with a box full of canned food, utensils, water and other supplies.
Amber had already wiped up the errant water that ran down Gustavo’s chin and onto his shirt. He just looked at Mack with eyes wide with fear. The girl had her arms behind her back and was forcing a smile.
“I’m all set.” Amber replied with fake enthusiasm. It was the type that people often use to distract. Mack noticed.
“What’s going on here?”
“Nothing. What are we going to do with him?”
She’s lying. Forget it. It’s not important. “We leave him.”
“But he won’t survive.”
“No, I imagine he won’t.”
Amber and Mack stared at each other. They both understood that leaving Gustavo to die was morally wrong. As unethical as it was, taking him with them wasn’t an option. It was unfortunate.
“Can you take that to the van?”
Amber picked up the box full of supplies and headed outside.
Mack waited for Amber to leave the restaurant before speaking to Gustavo. He looked at the man and the still wet table in front of him. What stood out was the look of pure terror, mixed with relief in the paralyzed man’s eyes.
“Why are you so scared? What did she do?”
“Keep her away from me,” answered Gustavo in a raspy, breathy voice. Even through those filters, Mack could tell that something awful happened.
“Where we going next?” asked Amber as she left Mama’s Place with Mack beside her.
“The church.” Mack was referring to the chapel across the street from the restaurant. It was the only other building downtown that wasn’t boarded up.
“Didn’t take you as the religious type,” joked Amber as they walked across an empty street towards the chapel.
Please stop talking.
The chapel wasn’t a large building. It was built to hold about a hundred people comfortably. Neither Mack nor Amber had seen anything quite so beautiful.
Pristine white covered every surface of the exterior of the Wydell Chapel. It was a cloudy morning, but on sunny days the light almost made the chapel glow. Around it were well kept gardens filled with flowers of every color. Mack was not a believer, but if he was he’d want to worship there.
“What’s that smell?” asked Amber.
Mack and Amber passed through the white picket fence that surrounded the Wydell Chapel property. Immediately they were both assaulted by a stench strong enough to peel paint. Amber almost threw up her burger breakfast.
Large double doors with ornate crosses and gold handles served as the front entrance of the chapel. Mack hesitated a bit before opening them up. He looked back at Amber.
“Be ready for anything.”
Amber nodded her head and readied her almost empty firearm. Mack took a deep breath. Then he opened the doors.
A cloud of flies mixed with the aroma of death flew out of the open Wydell Chapel front doors. Mack swiped at the insects and entered the building. Amber followed with her pistol at the ready.
They lowered their weapons when they saw what was inside. They couldn’t speak or even look away. The depravity of the scene was morbidly fascinating.
I guess this is where all the townsfolk are. Piled near the altar at the front of the chapel were dozens of dead bodies. They were filled with bullet holes. Light coming through the various stained glass windows illuminated the wall behind them, which was splattered with blood and more holes. Spent shell casings were all over the place. And none of them had heads.
“Dead people. That was what that smell was. Dead people,” said Amber.
It hasn’t even been a day. How could everything fall apart so quickly? Who’s so depraved that they’d do something like this? Mack slowly walked towards the mound of human death in the front of the chapel. He wanted some answers. Because none of the victims were killed by meat puppets.
“Lab coats,” said Mack as he lifted a flap of one of the corpse’s coat with the barrel of his shotgun. “Hold on, there’s some sort of badge.”
“Does it say Galatea?”
Mack pointed his gun down to the ground with one hand. The other grabbed the badge and wiped off some of the blood. In big blue letters was “Galatea Systems”.
“How’d you know that?” Please don’t lie to me Amber.
“Know what?”
“Galatea! How’d you know that!?” Mack had lost his patience with her. There was too much lying, too much evasion.
Amber took the wallet she found back at Mama’s Place out of her pocket. “It was on the floor in the restaurant.” She handed it over. “I didn’t think it was important. Sorry.”
Mack opened the wallet. He went through the pockets and found Bernard Pierce’s Galatea ID. Now don’t you feel like an asshole?
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell,” said Mack after sighing and closing the wallet.
He gave it back to Amber and she promptly put it in her pocket. There was a short quiet as they both looked upon the horror before them.
“What do you think it means?” asked Amber, sheepishly.
“Don’t know. I’m sure nothing good.”
Mack gently put his hand on Amber’s shoulder. “I need to look around and see if there’s anything we can use. Then we’ll get out of here. You wanna wait outside, stand watch?”
“No, not really.” Amber was lightning fast with her answer.
“You shouldn’t have to see this stuff. You’re just a …”
“Kid? I’ve seen worst stuff online before my tenth birthday.”
Wow…That’s disturbing. Is she kidding? She must be kidding, right?
“We need a lookout,” said Mack sternly.
“I agree. So why don’t you get out there and ‘stand watch’.”
“I swear to god kid, I don’t know if I should hug ya or throw you out those lovely stained glass windows.”
“Ah, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” Amber grabbed Mack’s shoulder and fluttered her eyelashes in an exaggerated sarcastic manner. He found it strangely adorable and nauseating at the same time.
Amber left the chapel and kept watch, just like Mack asked. While searching the chapel, Mack discovered a door behind the altar. With his shotgun raised again he opened it.
With my luck there will be a meat puppet waiting for me. Soon as I open, it’ll jump on me. Tear me to pieces. Stop it. You need to man up.
The door behind the altar slowly opened. It had the stereotypical creak. Mack took a deep breath and looked.
There was a small room beyond the door that housed supplies for the church. Candles were stacked on a shelf along with bibles, hymn books and extra religious garb. Nothing was of real worth to Mack or Amber. So he left and closed the door.
Amber walked back and forth in front of the Wydell Chapel. She’d kick some dirt and grass every once and awhile. Then she heard a gunshot. It came from Mama’s Place. Her natural reaction was to get down.
What was that? Mack heard the gunshot too. He knew he couldn’t
look out the stained glass windows. So he moved towards the front doors.
“Shhh, stay down,” whispered Amber. She was lying down on her stomach in the grass. Mack didn’t question it. He laid down as well. Both of them could hear voices beyond the white picket fence.
“Good thing we did another sweep. We had a straggler,” said one voice. It was slightly muffled by a ski mask but intelligible.
“Dump him in the chapel with the others. Then continue patrols. I want to be absolutely sure that there’s not a single living soul in this town before we leave. Understood?” A second voice sounded more authoritative.
“Yes sir. You heard the man, go get him!”
“Shit, they’re going to come this way. Crawl, now!” Mack was the first to take action. Amber followed him as he crawled on his belly towards the back of the chapel, and out the side.
Luckily by the time they heard the white picket fence open, Mack and Amber were out of sight. It was a close call. The task ahead of them would prove to be harder. They needed to get out of Wydell without being seen by the mystery hit squad.
Mack and Amber listened as they dragged Gustavo’s corpse into the chapel. They heard the men laugh and joke as they disposed of a body. Then, a couple minutes later, they heard them leave the little white house of worship.
“This way,” whispered Mack as he got up off the grass and dirt. He headed towards the white picket fence at the back. Once he got there, he climbed over. Amber followed.
There was an open field between downtown Wydell and the residential area. They had to cross it without being seen. Or they would likely face the same fate as Gustavo and the rest of the townsfolk.
“We’ll never make it across,” said Amber as she looked around. A road crossed through the open field and parked in the middle of it was a black unmarked SUV with tinted windows. Around the SUV were men dressed in all black swat gear holding automatic weapons.
The black SUV wasn’t alone. All over Wydell, teams of the tactically dressed men combed for survivors. Amber and Mack could hear screams followed by the echoes of gunshots every couple of minutes. Whoever they were and whatever they wanted didn’t matter. It was clear that they intended nothing in the small Texas town to survive that morning.
Okay, assess the situation. What are our options? We can stay downtown but every place is boarded up. The only places we can hide are the chapel and restaurant. And they’re crawling with those guys.
We can try and leave town. But there’s nothing but wide open space all around this god forsaken place. Since we don’t have a car, it would have to be by foot. That ain’t happening. We’d get maybe fifty yards before getting shot.
Those houses are our only hope. But first we have to cross that field. We need a miracle, some miraculous distraction.
“There’s no choice. Now try and stay low and move fast.”
Amber swallowed hard. She saw the length of exposed land that they had to cross. It was about the length of two football fields. As much faith as she had in Mack, she knew there was no way they’d make it. So as he was watching and waiting for the right time to run, she was preparing herself for the end.
“Ready?” asked Mack as he tried not to show his nerves. Amber didn’t reply. She just nodded and held back her fear.
Just as Mack and Amber were about to take their chances crossing the long field, they heard a familiar screeching noise. Only one thing they knew of made such a skin raising sound: meat puppets.
Maybe there is a god. There was yelling and more gunshots. Amber and Mack watched as the men in the road got into their SUV and drove towards the residential area.
“C’mon, let’s go.” Mack headed towards the field. Amber reluctantly followed.
“Should we really be going towards the gunshots?”
“Like I said, no choice.”
Never in Mack’s life had time ever moved as slow as it did that morning while crossing the field. Every footfall was noticed. It was a strange mix of eagerness to reach their destination along with the nerves related to what they’d find there.
Getting closer and closer was a quaint two floor house that Mack aimed for. The home was a neutral beige color. If they could get there, he figured they’d be safe.
They were out of breath as they reached the beige house. Amber took a water bottle out of her backpack and took a couple of gulps. Then she handed it over to Mack. He finished it off.
“What now?” asked Amber. Her head was on a swivel, looking for danger.
“We keep moving.”
“Why not just go inside and hide?”
“Too dangerous. We need to find somewhere that even the meat puppets won’t find…”
One of the black clad men came running past Mack, Amber and the beige house. He didn’t even notice the two of them. All that mattered was escape. And it didn’t take long before what he was running from revealed itself. But it wasn’t what Mack or Amber expected.
Four dogs came running after the black clad man. He looked back and yelled some expletives. The canines were fast, but Mack saw enough of them to see their bullet hole ridden bodies and cloudy gray eyes. They were meat puppets.
I bet they weren’t expecting them to come back. Mack grabbed one of Amber’s little hands. They made eye contact. No words were needed, they both knew they had to run.
The residential area of Wydell looked like a warzone. SWAT gear clad men fought meat puppets all over the place. A couple of fires consumed ancient houses. One home had a car in its living room. Most importantly, through all the chaos, no one paid any attention to Mack and Amber.
Mack stopped in front of what looked like cellar doors in the back yard of one of the houses. He opened them up. It was pitch black below, lit only by what little sunlight squeezed through the gray clouds above.
“We’re going down there?” Amber didn’t like what she saw.
“It’s a storm cellar, give me your phone. There’s a light on it right?”
“Yeah, hold on,” answered Amber as she took out her phone and looked for the flashlight app.
Mack and Amber heard a loud screech. It was close. When they looked to see what it was, they saw one of the meat puppet dogs. Blood and saliva dripped down from its mouth. For a second it just stared at them. Then it charged.
Amber and Mack quickly got into the storm cellar. The last thing Mack saw before closing the doors were a set of what looked like metal teeth coming at him. As scary as it was, they were safe. At least for the time being.
Chapter 3: Clean Up
The storm cellar was cold and depressing. Every wall was gray concrete. There was very little space and a good portion of it was occupied by piles of canned and pickled goods. A lone light bulb hanging on a thin chain was the only light source. In one corner was a metal toilet that provided no privacy. Not that Mack or Amber cared. Outside there were more dangerous things than mild embarrassment.
Mack sat on the rickety wooden stairs right below the storm cellar doors. When they first went down into the shelter, he held them closed. It wasn’t from fear of the meat puppet dog but from their resurrected owners who had hands. If caught in the cellar, he and Amber would have no chance of escaping or surviving.
“This shit is gross,” complained Amber as she ate some of the paste from a MRE (made ready meal). She turned the brown wrapper over. “How is this Salisbury steak?”
“Gross or not, you need to eat, girlie. You need your strength. Who knows what’s waiting for us up there.”
“Here’s an idea, how about we don’t go outside? I mean we got all we need here. Food, water, hell there’s even a toilet.” Amber gave Mack another one of her fake smiles.
You have no idea how much I’d like that. There’s no meat puppets or kill squads. All I’d have to do deal with is you. “Tempting as that is, we need to keep moving.”
“Why? Look around you. We can survive down here.” Amber motioned with her hands like she was presenting the storm shelter.
“Eventually so
meone or something will find us.”
“But they said on TV to…”
“Whenever someone tells you to stay calm and in your home, you should do the opposite.”
Amber pouted a bit. She obviously didn’t agree. But it had been nearly twenty four hours since she met Mack. And it was clear to her that she needed the big Viking. Whatever he decided to do or wherever he went, she’d follow. As sad as it was, he was all the family she had left.
No one spoke in the storm cellar for almost an hour. They sat in silence, Amber staring at the wall, Mack guarding the door. Both of them listened. Any little sound made their hearts race. Eventually the teenage girl got some sleep.
Mack gathered his courage and decided to take a look outside. He opened one of the heavy storm cellar doors just an inch or two. Night had fallen. From his limited perspective he didn’t see or hear anything. It seemed quite.
“I think it’s safe to move,” informed Mack as he slowly closed the storm cellar door. He was talking to himself. Amber was asleep. So he walked the handful of feet over to her.
How can you sleep at a time like this? Wish I could. I’m jealous. With a gentleness that he rarely used, Mack tried to wake her.
“Wha…are they here?” asked Amber, groggy and half awake.
“I need you to get up. We got to move.”
“Can’t I just?” Amber started to lay back down on the storm shelter’s only cot.
“No, it’s time to leave.”
“Ugh, fine!” Amber managed to roust herself up to the edge of the cot. “Oh, hey look what I found before passing out,” she reached under the uncomfortable portable bed and grabbed an olive green backpack.
“It’s got a flashlight and some pill thingies inside. And a water bottle,” said Amber as she handed the green backpack to Mack.
“Thanks. I can really use this,” said Mack with a smile.
“Are we taking any of this stuff?”
“Definitely.”
Amber surveyed the stacks of canned food and MREs. Having tasted the foul ready-made meals, she chose to ignore those. Instead she loaded her bag with some corn, spam, corned beef and vegetable medley. Despite her advanced maturity, she also grabbed some of the hard candy and chocolate.