Aftermath (Book 2): Chicago Calling

by Duncan McArdle

  Back on the ground floor, Sonja was trying in vain to coax Harvey back into a conscious state.

  “Come on man”, she pleaded repeatedly, “Come back to us!”,

  “He could do with the rest”, Lester interrupted, as the huge mass climbed over the barricade and then the truck. “We’ll take him up, get him some water, see how he goes”, he added.

  “Alright”, Sonja replied, “How’s… everyone?”, she asked hopefully, paying special attention to John, and the fact that Andrew wasn’t with them.

  Realising what she meant in particular, John replied first, “Michelle’s fine”, he said, “Sarah and Hannah too”.

  “That’s good”, Sonja said happily, before noting the still sombre look on both men’s faces, and quickly returning to fear and worry. “What is it?”, she asked, rising to her feet and away from Harvey’s body.

  John looked outside into the dimly lit late afternoon, while Lester looked to his shoes, neither man wanting to answer.

  “How many?”, Sonja asked impatiently.

  John continued to stare outside, until his lips eventually opened, “Fifteen”, he confirmed.

  Sonja’s hand rose up and covered her mouth, her eyes welling up with tears and her whole body quickly spinning round to hide her discomfort. But the sobbing was audible for a great distance, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Lester couldn’t handle the sound, and quickly made his way over to embrace Sonja in the world’s biggest bear-hug, muffling the variety of sad noises she was making. John meanwhile stayed where he was, waiting for the noise to die down till he knew things could begin to progress again.

  Eventually Lester released Sonja, and proceeded to turn to John.

  “Give me a hand?”, he asked, motioning to Harvey’s still unconscious body below.

  “Uhh”, John hesitated, “Would you two mind?”, he asked, much to Sonja’s confusion.

  “Don’t you want to get back up there, to see Michelle?”, Sonja asked, knowing that if John was staying down here, it meant he was taking watch for the night.

  “More than anything”, John declared, “But I’ve got things to take care of down here, and I’m probably the best person for the job right now”, he explained. “Have Andrew take up watch on top for the night, I’ll see you both in the morning”.

  “You got it”, Lester confirmed before Sonja could say another word.

  Both Lester and Sonja then picked up Harvey, with the bigger man doing significantly more of the work, and began walking over to the stairwell.

  Once they were out of sight, John did a brief scan of the area for threats, and then walked over to the entrance.

  Looking to the left, he could see the horde way off in the distance, thankfully still moving north and thus away from the camp. In contrast, to the right he saw nothing, save for the occasional piece of evidence that a mass of the undead had passed through, ranging from tipped over trash cans to cars shoved into the middle of the road, and occasionally a body, trampled to death by its own kind.

  Having inspected his surroundings, John then moved out and to the left slightly, keeping close to the wall and moving through the shrubbery that bordered the nearby pavement. Once he’d made his way a short distance along, John stopped and walked out onto the street, staring down at the sight of exactly what he’d come out looking for, and shaking his head in both sadness and anger.

  There in front lay the body of Kate, her eyes wide open but her heart well and truly stopped, and her head cracked ajar slightly where the rear of it had hit the hard floor below. John was done shedding tears for the day, and he didn’t have the emotional energy in him to give another apology, instead, he only wanted to treat the poor girl with the respect she deserved. With that in mind, he picked up the body, and carried it inside, sitting her down with her back up against the wall alongside the wheelbarrows.

  Closing her eyes and crossing her arms, John adjusted the girl’s hair slightly before withdrawing his knife and giving her the final step in the story of her death, just to be safe. Finally he placed the blade back into its pouch and let out a long, regenerative sigh.

  “Hell of a day”, he said to himself, as he then stood up and turned round, bodies visible in every direction, “Hell of a day”.

  * * *

  Even from a distance, it was reasonably clear what was happening, and as the man the group knew to be some kind of leader put yet another resident to sleep, the individual peering through the rifle scope slowly took their eye away from the sight in the distance. Carefully they picked up a nearby pencil, and proceeded to produce a scrap of paper from their right-hand pocket. Slowly the figure marked another tally, and then placed it back into their pocket.

  “There goes another”, they said menacingly, before looking back into the scope.

  Chapter 20: Crossing paths

  Five months earlier, May 28th, 2014.

  A little past mid-afternoon, with the sun beaming down and not a cloud in sight, the sound of grasshoppers was all that could be heard in what would previously have been a bustling, vibrant city centre. The odd plastic bag rustled slightly in the small amounts of wind that passed through, but the area remained otherwise undisturbed, tranquil almost.

  Eventually however, much like all good things even at this relatively early period of post-infection life, the pleasant silence came to an inevitable end, as it was replaced instead by the rising sounds of engine noise. Although somewhat of a rarity across what was becoming an increasingly baron wasteland, vehicles still represented a substantial amount of what little noise pollution remained, and made for a welcome change from the usual chorus of moans emitted by the wandering dead.

  Despite their volume however, the engines weren’t working overtime, nor did they belong to vehicles that were particularly loud themselves. But in a place so well and truly empty, even the slightest sounds carried for great distances, and these particular ones continued to do so until the vehicles eventually stopped.

  Of course, prior to the doors opening, the usual levels of inspection quickly took place, with heads craning around and eyes darting from place to place, seeking out any potential threats. With the way the world was now, no longer would anybody even turn off their engine – and in doing so risk becoming stranded – until they were one-hundred-percent positive that they were alone, not unless they had a pretty serious death wish. Nevertheless, after extensive inspection from the vehicles’ occupants, the engines finally cut out, and doors began to cautiously creak open.

  “You believe this?”, asked a man known as Jack, emerging from the driver’s seat of the rear vehicle, his bushy ginger beard all but obscuring his words to anybody that didn’t know him as well as the members of this particular group did.

  “I know”, replied a disembarking Geoff – the driver of the other vehicle – before he began spinning around on the spot with each of his heavily tattooed arms crossed behind his head, inspecting his surroundings as if looking for some hidden area that might have fared better than the rest.

  But the sad fact was that there was no such area. What the group of six men – some of whom were still climbing out of their vehicles – were staring at was a variety of scorched buildings and ruined cars, each and every one of them adorned with the bodies of countless members of the armed forces, some of which were in varying stages of turning. Whatever had happened here had been far from pretty, and it was certainly not the reception anybody had hoped for.

  As the group began to assemble into a loosely formed semi-circle, more and more of their immediate surroundings became apparent. From the water line just a few metres away, to the large and strangely shaped building that sat alongside it, and the worryingly sized group of biters that were trapped inside its all-glass lower floor. There was even an overhead walkway towering above all of them, something each and every one of them began taking note of, along with mental notes on just about every other nearby building. But more prominent than any sound or sight, was the disturbing smell of death and fire,
lingering in the air and singing every set of nostrils within the vicinity.

  In a normal situation, this particular group might have dusted themselves off, climbed back into their vehicles and driven on, ready to check out the next destination they’d spotted just a little further up the road. But there was one substantial difference between this moment here, stood in the midst of a desolate city, and every other moment that had preceded it; now they had nowhere else to go.

  “What do we do now?”, asked Gavin, his British accent chiming in from one edge of the group.

  “We should probably get out of here”, Jack said, looking around the group for confirmation, “Right?”.

  “Why?”, Ryan jumped in from nearer the middle, his prominent Georgian accent more than apparent.

  “Because they’re all dead”, Jack responded, gesturing to the countless number of bodies scattered on the nearby floor, each of them adorning various military uniforms that eluded to the stand the military had taken here, “They’re why we came here, remember?”.

  “So?”, Ryan replied, seemingly confused, “We heard they’d sent troops in, we didn’t hear anything about them surviving, this place seems like as good a place as any for us to hold out”.

  “Ryan”, Jack tried again, “If they couldn’t make it here, do you really think we can?”.

  The area fell silent once more. Each and every one of them was now picturing a horrific number of the undead, converging on the city in a horde strong enough to take on and beat back thousands of men armed with sophisticated weapons. For every few seconds that passed, another member of the group shot a cautious look over their shoulder, or over to the significantly worse grade of pistols and shotguns they had amassed, before looking back to the various sights in front.

  “God I wish we’d never left Austin”, Jack said eventually.

  “I wish we’d never left Texas”, came another voice, this time from an as yet unspoken member of the group known as Michael, who originally hailed from New Jersey and adorned a pair of glasses even more bruised and battered than he was.

  “I wish I’d never left England”, added Gavin.

  “Me too”, Jack concurred.

  For an awkward moment, nobody said or did anything. It was as if they’d become so ruined by the apocalypse that they were already unable to appreciate humour, despite the fact that the critical point of the infection had only been around a month prior. Thankfully however, after many more moments of silence, one of the group managed the slightest of chuckles, immediately pulling everyone from their stone-like attitudes and uniting the group in a hearty laugh.

  Everyone that was, but Geoff, who seemed much more interested in inspecting the building across the street.

  “Anybody got any ideas?”, Gavin asked again once the laughter had died down, hoping to grab Geoff’s attention but failing to do so.

  “Well, we need to pick somewhere new to head for”, Jack replied.

  “Sure”, Gavin acknowledged, “Where’s near here?”.

  “Appleton, Green Bay, Grand Rapids”, Ryan jumped in to begin listing the nearby places, “Oh and Chicago, obviously”.

  “Chicago?”, Gavin asked, “Any idea how they did with all of this?”.

  “I’m guessing about as well as most cities”, Ryan replied, with a tone indicating his knowledge that few places of large population had lasted more than a couple of days, “Although, I do remember hearing something about them working on some big-ass walls”.

  Rarely had the idea of walls been quite as tempting as it was then and there. Stood in a group shielded only by the vehicles to their rear, each and every one of them was exposed to the elements on three out of four sides. The thought of having four large, heavy duty walls built specifically for repelling the undead seemed like a far off dream, and one that every single person there desperately wanted to realise.

  “Sounds good to me”, Gavin eventually replied, “Chicago everybody?”, he asked, looking past Geoff – who was still gazing away from the group – and towards each of the other members.

  “Chicago”, Ryan replied semi-happily.

  “Sounds good”, Jack concurred, his fingers fondling his beard as he spoke.

  “Yeah”, Michael added briefly, before turning to look at Ray, the final member of the group, who was stood at the opposite end to Gavin.

  Sensing that was the best he was going to get, Gavin tried his hardest to exert an assertive nod of confirmation, before making his way over to the far side of the group.

  “Ray”, Gavin began, placing his hand on Ray’s left shoulder, “You alright?”.

  “What?”, Ray asked, apparently startled out of a fairly intense daydream, “Yeah, what’s up?”.

  Gavin stared back at the man – the only member of the group younger than he was – and gave a sigh. “Are you thinking about Kerry again?”, he asked, referring back to the friend they’d lost back in Madison a week prior.

  “Yeah”, Ray replied, “Can’t help it”, he said.

  “I know”, Gavin acknowledged, patting him on the back, “But c’mon, let’s get moving”.

  Ray nodded limply, before turning and heading back for the vehicle he had emerged from a few minutes prior.

  Finally, Gavin turned to Geoff, whose attention was still focused on the building across the street.

  “Geoff”, Gavin said as he approached, before sensing he needed to be a little more forceful. “Geoff!!”, he near-shouted, whilst still trying to be cautious he didn’t awaken any nearby threats.

  “What? …Yeah?”, Geoff replied, bringing himself abruptly back into the present moment.

  “How long would it take to get to Chicago?”, Gavin asked, opting not to bother running the idea past his former boss, and knowing he’d be happy just having somewhere else to head to.

  “Chicago?”, Geoff replied, buying himself time to think, “Couple hours maybe?” he suggested.

  “Cool”, Gavin said, “Let’s go”.

  With that, he turned and headed for the nearest vehicle, a move which he was surprised to see Geoff copy shortly afterwards. Just as he opened the passenger side door though, Gavin’s inquisitive nature got the best of him, and he felt he had to ask.

  “What did you see?”, he said to Geoff, who was in the process of rounding the front of the vehicle to get back behind the wheel.

  “Huh?”, Geoff stalled again, “Oh, nothing. Thought I saw someone up top when we pulled in but… well it was probably just one of them”, he said, before descending back into the driver’s seat.

  Gavin turned one final time towards the building in question. It was a large, multi-storey, concrete car-park, seemingly a part of the museum they were parked outside of. The lower floors he could see straight into, right up to the few remaining vehicles that had been left behind. But up top it was a different story, with the building’s contents obscured from view, and Gavin knowing he might not want to see what was inside even if he could.

  Fact was that this city was dead, and so were its inhabitants, there was nothing left for them here.

  “See you later Milwaukee”, Gavin said in a final farewell, before he closed the passenger-side door and the group began moving off towards Chicago, itself just barely visible in the distance along the edge of Lake Michigan.

  Chapter 21: Rebuilding

  Present day.

  In the weeks that followed the huge loss of life sustained by the camp, very rarely did anybody leave the base, or even look much further beyond its comfortingly thick concrete walls. A decision was made early on that until Harvey was fully healed up, and the number of active guards returned to normal, they wouldn’t risk leaving the base so vulnerable again, for fear of repeating the deadly incident. It was a decision John had found difficult to swallow due to his ever growing need to get out and scavenge, but he had been overwhelmingly outvoted, and so had been forced to accept it, putting his own interests a little further out of reach.

  The first task undertaken was that of clearing up, the mo
st notable thing to be cleared that of the bodies that were now spread across various parts of the building’s northern end. This started with the loading up and transporting of undead corpses to the usual burning location, and in doing so created a heap of limbs much bigger than usual. Some residents had expressed concern over the undead being given a higher priority than deceased residents, but were quickly satisfied by the reasoning; nobody wanted that many stinking, rotting corpses sitting down there making everybody in range of them feel ill.

  Just a few hours into the first day following the attack, a huge fire spread high into the sky just across the street, and bit by bit the undead slowly crumbled into ash. Andrew had spoken up over just how much smoke was being created, and the possibility of this attracting others, but upon failing to provide a suitable alternative that didn’t involve using large amounts of fuel to transport the dead further away, he’d quickly been forced to accept the situation.

  The rest of the first day was spent cleaning, and soon enough John had lost count of just how many water filled wheelbarrows they’d brought in and dumped on the floors and walls, scrubbing away at the various blood stains. It was a long, tedious and thankless process, but it was a significantly better option than simply leaving the base in its current blood-soaked state. Many residents had offered to help in the clear up, and of those some had been accepted, if and only if it was thought they could stomach the disgusting sights they’d be helping to clear. Even the guards often struggled to hold down their food when they were piling up brain mass and guts in the corner of the stairwell.

  Eventually the bodies of former residents – who had until then been sat neatly along a wall on the bottom floor, eerily staring at whoever was on guard – were transported to their final resting place. A plot of land just a little ways down the road from camp had been chosen as the location, and again numerous residents had helped out where they could, mostly with the process of preparing and marking the graves under armed escort. Almost everyone in the camp had wanted to attend the burials, but John, Sonja and Harvey had all put their foot down hard on that early, and instead had afforded them the opportunity to say goodbye before they were buried, rather than venturing outside to do it afterwards. Some had lost relatives, others good friends, and some just wanted to pay their respects to acquaintances, but no matter what the connection, none warranted risking more lives by venturing back into the unknown and dangerous world outside en-masse.