A Spring of Sorrow

by Arthur Mongelli

  They all stood just inside the stockroom doors, most with hands on knees from the exertion. They caught their breath briefly as they watched Tim wheel a pallet jack at speed towards the door. Their flashlights danced about as he covered the last few feet. The jack was laden with a pallet of dog food and as soon as it was in place, Tim released the handle, which snapped upright, lowering its payload to the floor. Without a word or a pause, Tim grabbed the handle of the shopping cart that still bore Chris and Sophie and they were running again. The strobe effect of the swinging flashlights, combined with the rattling of the shopping cart and Christine's moaning made for a disorienting and terrifying flight across the storage area.

  After the initial crash of bodies slamming into the swinging doors, the sounds of the undead behind them grew quieter. In the span of half a dozen strides, the combined weight of the undead shoved the pallet free and the undead spilled into the stockroom. The roars of the fast undead echoed loudly in the tight concrete room as they resumed their furious pursuit. If the group weren't in full, panicked flight across the breadth of the warehouse, they would have proceeded much more cautiously in the shadowy gloom of the warehouse. The overstocked shelves and pallets, some piled chest high lay strewn about. The shadowy recesses and absolute black would in any other circumstance, be fuel for panic. As it was, they had no time for rational thought. They were driven on by fear, panic, and the adrenaline that accompanied it.

  A tumultuous noise ahead slowed most of the group. Christine's feet sticking out ahead of the cart had struck the push-bar perfectly, and Tim rammed the shopping cart through an emergency exit door. Sophie screamed and leapt from the cart just before it tumbled down a short flight of concrete steps. The stairs led down from the rear loading dock to the pavement below. The clatter of a thousand pill boxes and bottles splaying across the blacktop below was accompanied by the rattling smash of the cart flipping end over end. It clanged once noisily, freed of its burden and skittered to a halt a dozen feet from where Christine tumbled to rest.

  Tim landed awkwardly atop the mess of pills. He twisted his body at the last second, barely managing to avoid landing atop the girl who was now moaning due to pains other than those of labor. He rolled to his hands and knees and performed a quick mental evaluation of his condition. The rest of the group slowed to a halt atop the stairs, trying to train their flashlights around to get a picture of what was happening.

  For the briefest moment, the only noise was the sound of Christine's pained moaning, sounding eerily akin to one of the undead. Tim's eyes were wide with panic as he tried to force his eyes to pierce the gloom and get some idea of what lay about them. The sounds of gathering footfalls and a roar echoing in the cinder-block structure sent the rest of the group into flight down the stairs, illuminating the scene fully with their flashlights. Will, still taking up the rear guard, slammed the door shut as he came out into the frigid night air, bracing his back against the solid metal slab. Peter used his massive bulk and threw his back against an eight foot high pile of wooden pallets, sliding it into place where Will was standing. He held it in place with his hand, while Will joined those below. He righted the cart and Tim unceremoniously dumped the moaning, helpless body of Christine back into it.

  Jen shone her light up and down the rear of the strip-mall, both to make sure they weren't being set upon, as well as in the hopes that something would stand out to her; some quick way out of there. Directly behind the store, was a four-foot chain link fence. Beyond the fence lay an embankment that sloped downward to a retaining wall. Beyond the wall was a deeper gap of darkness. Jen assumed it was either a highway or railroad tracks, as she couldn't hear any moving water. The light from her torch couldn't penetrate the darkness at that distance to allow her to differentiate between the two. It was moot either way, with Christine and the kids in tow, there was no way they could hope to climb the fence, descend the steep slope and traverse the drop in order to find out.

  The need to urinate pressed on all of them as they feverishly tried to figure out which was the best course to move. It seemed like an eternity as they collected themselves and spun with their lights to discern the next course of action, but barely twenty seconds passed. The crash of the undead slamming into the emergency door behind them brought the tension to a crescendo. The undead were stalled temporarily, held back by the pile of pallets and Peter’s bulk, but the mounting tension of the moment forced them into action. Tim grasped the handle tightly and pushed the cart southward along the dock. He moved slowly at first, but picked up the pace as his eyes, adjusting to the deeper gloom, allowed him to see varying gradations of shadow giving him some idea of what lay ahead. The cart clattered noisily on the pavement at speed and the blood pounded in their ears as they ran.

  “Peter!” Will heard Jane hiss loudly from behind him as he ran after his friends and Jen.

  “Good luck to you all, hope you make it to Donner,” Jane's voice shouted a moment later.

  Will considered their departure for a moment, at first feeling abandoned and angry. After a moment of consideration, though, he understood. If he were given the same opportunity, if it were just he and Jen in their shoes, he knew that he would have done the same. Though, deep down in a dark and angry corner of his mind he hoped the undead followed them instead.

  “Tim!” A voice behind hissed at him. “Stop!”

  He did as he was bade and Jen ran up next to him.

  “We either gotta ditch Chris or the cart,” she said as she came to his shoulder.

  “No!” Christine screamed back at her. “Don't you fucking leave me!”

  “She . . . the cart is too fucking loud, it's not only gonna bring those things from behind, but it’s gonna draw more from a long way off.”

  Tim knew she was right about the cart. He couldn't hear anything over the sound of it clattering along the roadway. Though he had no desire to carry an extremely pregnant woman, he had less of a desire to leave her to die. Still panting heavily from the escape, he first tried to hoist her across his shoulders in a fireman's carry, but the girth of her stomach prevented it. In the end he threw her over his shoulder, leaving her upper half dangling down his back. The fastest he could move with his new burden was a fast walk, though even that was exhausting.

  By the time they came to the end of the strip mall, Tim was near collapse. Not that Christine was all too heavy, but the culmination of stress and worry over the past few days had taken its toll. Being out in the open, among the undead with his family, especially after Bjorn's death, had physiological effects, namely exhaustion. The lack of sleep and crushed morale in the destroyed Yukon didn't help much with his mental and emotional well-being. He finally came to a halt in the middle of the access road that lay between the strip-mall and the fenced-in area of a lumberyard. He let Christine slide off his shoulder as gently as possible before he collapsed onto his hands and knees.

  “Find a car . . . something,” he breathlessly coughed at Jen and Will.

  *

  That night Amber pulled Mark into her sleeping bag. After a brief foray into carnal pleasure they fell asleep, forehead to forehead, sharing their breath with one another. It was the first time since the world fell apart that the two had been intimate. Mark awoke with a start, sitting upright some time later. He had unintentionally unzipped the sleeping bag as he did so. Amber clutched at the bag, desperately trying to pull the warmth back down to her, forcing Mark to slide out into the frigid, early morning air. He had no idea what woke him, whether it was Amber moving or some other stimulus. In the new order of things, he knew better than to ignore it.

  He moved quickly to the crumpled pile of cast-off clothing from the evening before. He pulled on his underwear, followed by his long-johns and then his pants. He scurried over to the side window of the tent and unzipped it as he pulled his stained thermal shirt on. It was quite an adjustment for his fastidious personality, getting used to wearing soiled and or odoriferous clothing. Just a few months ago he would have wrinkled his
nose in disgust at the clothes he now wore on a daily basis. He most likely would have refused to even touch them without gloves. As the window flap slid silently down, leaving the mosquito mesh, Mark immediately knew something was amiss.

  The burn pile was already casting its glow across the campsite. This normally wouldn't have alerted him except for none of the tent-folk were awake yet. No camp fires were lit, nor did any noise but the sounds of snoring come from the other tents. By the depth of blackness of the sky and the height of the moon, Mark knew there were still hours left before dawn, when the pyre should have been lit. After a minute or so of blinking away the sleep and confusion, he finally forced his eyes to adjust to the light of the bright bonfire. He watched as two men, back-lit by the fire, turned and walked back in through the front gates. He tracked their movement as they slunk away, in the general direction of the barracks building. They disappeared into the shadows cast by the fire before Mark could be certain of their actual destination.

  He sat in silence, debating whether he should get undressed and climb back in with Amber. The need to urinate grew more and more insistent as the seconds ticked by. Amber had pulled him down into bed before he had a chance to relieve himself the night before, and now, the discomfort was quickly turning into pain. He knew he would never be able to get to sleep in that discomfort. Finally, he took a deep breath as he unzipped the mesh and moved out into the fire-lit corner of the base. Wincing at the sharp pain in his bladder, he scurried over to the latrine, which was little more than a roadside public restroom with no running water.

  A dozen sinks, six on either side of the structure, greeted him as he stepped through the threshold. The light from a single candle, left burning on the edge of one of the sinks, danced off the white porcelain and chrome fixtures. Mark had forgotten his flashlight in his haste and was grateful that whoever had used the toilet last had left it burning so he didn't have to fumble around in the dim entry area. Beyond the washing-up area were a dozen shower stalls, set up six per side. Past the showers were the toilet stalls. Each stall had a vent mounted into the wall behind the toilet so that the stench of fifty men escaped before it made the building intolerable. The light from the burn pile outside shone through the vents on the east side of the building and Mark, like a moth drawn to the flame, moved towards it. He shuffled through the dim latrine building, going to the last stall on the right, putting him about a dozen yards from the chain-link fence that rimmed the compound.

  As soon as the blessed relief of urinating mellowed, Mark started peering out through the vent. His curiosity forced his eyes to seek out the shadows in the fire in an attempt to decipher the mystery. He was in mid-zip of his pants when he saw the petite arm, still clutching its teddy bear within the flames. Mark froze, his mouth wide in shock and horror.

  *

  Linda set her plate of food down and sat down at the table opposite Nala. There had been an argument brewing between the two for weeks now. At least at community supper, she thought she was safe from it festering into a fight. One look at Nala's face as she sat, however, dashed those thoughts.

  “Here, Nala?” Linda hissed quietly. “Can't it wait until we get home at least. The others don't need to see our domestic issues put on display.”

  “It doesn't have to be a fight, Lin. Look, you've been avoiding this conversation for a long time now. We've both been busy, but it's time we hashed things out. I know you've got a sense of responsibility to this town, but we need to talk about what comes after,” Nala replied, ignoring her plea to speak in private.

  “After? What's that supposed to mean?” Linda hissed back, doing her best to keep the tone low so others seated nearby in the school gymnasium couldn't hear more than the tone of the conversation.

  “Exactly what I said, Lin. You don't think this is going to last do you? There are just too many people lurking about outside the gates. Too many people inside that don't have any real idea of the dangers out there. Besides that, there is way too much acreage here to maintain a safe perimeter.”

  Linda threw her fork down on the plate and put her head in her hands.

  “Nal, this is home. If things aren't secure, isn't that something you and Yen should be addressing rather than making contingency plans?”

  “Every day that passes, more people are showing up at our gates. It's just a matter of time before someone brings doom on what we have here. We cannot prepare and secure for every scenario, Linda. We need to prepare for the end of this. Gather supplies, find a vehicle we can drive out of here, come up with a destination. Sitting on our hands will only get us killed when that time comes.”

  “Well, I disagree that it will come to that. Just look how well the town has come together.” Linda gestured about the room but never took her eyes off Nala. “We have a community kitchen, a town guard, road services in the winter, the school. We are building something here, Nal. I think that it might just continue to grow, to be something big.”

  “We are building a kingdom. Worse, we are building a despotism, Linda. Outside our walls sits the mob of angry peasants. How long before they get sick of lying out there, exposed to the elements and the undead? How long before they organize? Before someone steps forward and says 'enough is enough, we are going inside'? Could you blame them for lifting arms against us in that moment? I know that I couldn't.”

  “What then, Nal? Do we open the gates and let them all in?”

  “No. That too just invites disaster. I think I know as well as anyone what type of people are roaming about out there.”

  “So what, then?” Linda blurted, a bit too loudly.

  Heads started swinging around at the nearby tables as people were drawn from their own thoughts and conversations to see what the doctor was arguing about. Linda and Nala quieted under the scrutiny and finished their meal in silence. They packed their dirty plates in their carry-bag to bring back to the clinic with them. Those were the only rules at meal, bring your own plates and silverware and only take what you can eat. As soon as they stepped out into the open air outside the school, Nala spoke.

  “I guess what I'm saying is that I really like what we are doing here, but there are just too many people looking for a piece of the pie. There are too many variables at play here. I'd love to do something like this, in a much more controlled environment. Somewhere where the food is a bit more sustainable and the area a bit more secure. Maybe a few dozen people living in a high-rise or apartment structure, an island in a lake, maybe. Somewhere with limited access and less hungry mouths.”

  “I am the only doctor here, Nala. I can't abandon these people.”

  “I'm not asking you to, Lin. I'm just asking you to help me prepare for a scenario where we have no choice but to leave.”

  Linda had no argument left in her. Not that she had a counter to the point that Nala had made. She knew Nala was right of course, that there was no harm in preparing for a disaster. To her though, even though she couldn't put a finger on the reason, it felt like a betrayal.

  *

  Will and Jen moved off ahead, into the dark. They crept along the access road between the Safeway and lumberyard. They only made it a couple dozen paces towards the front of the plaza when they spotted a multitude of slow undead milling about. They were hoping to find a clear path or something that might help them in their predicament, but it was clear that racing to the Yukon was not a viable option. Jen was about to suggest that the two of them try and make it to the SUV when the sound of the heavy wooden pallets clattering and skittering across the pavement cascaded down the length of the building from behind. They locked eyes, each wondering briefly how much longer they could stay with the burdensome group before hurrying back to the prone form of Christine. A tense moment passed as desperate and tired eyes met with no answers. Without another moment of hesitation, Will scooped up Christine's prone form and ran the five paces to the lumberyard fence.

  “Get over the top, Tim. I'll boost her up and over to you,” he grunted, shifting her weight to a mor
e manageable position.

  Tim broke out of his exhausted stupor at the sound of the incoming footfalls of the undead. He rose and scrambled nimbly up to the top chain-link. He paused astride the simple barbed wire at the top with one barb poking painfully into the side of his buttock. He balanced himself, pressing his feet against the fence for support, as he ripped his jacket off. He immediately regretted the choice as the chill wind sapped the breath from his lungs and the strength from his limbs. He lay the jacket on the wire and beckoned to Laura. When Will moved to pass Christine up to him, Tim shrugged him off with a dismissive wave.

  “Laura, Jen get over here,” he hissed.

  The sounds of stomping feet were growing louder in the pitch black behind the supermarket. Jen nimbly alit to the top of the fence and straddled the wire, facing Tim. After a moment of getting used to the awkward perch, they helped Sophie over and down into the darkened yard, followed by Laura who refused to pass Luna off. Tim and Jen had to take the burden of lifting their combined weight over the fence. Tim twisted his body, doubled over to get a grip under Laura's arm. He winced in pain and groaned as a sharp pain shot through his lower back. The pain radiated down his back into his thigh. As soon as they lowered Laura and Luna down, Christine was thrust upwards into their unprepared arms. Will was on the verge of panicking at the slapping of approaching feet, uncomfortably close. He heaved with all the strength he could muster, hurling Christine's unconscious form up into their waiting arms. The two astride the wire were barely able to get a grip on the pregnant girl before Will flung himself up over the fence behind Tim. He landed nimbly on the ground and immediately turned to help lower Christine to the ground.