As The World Dies | Book 4 | After Siege

by Frater, Rhiannon

  Juan slapped the keys onto the roof of the truck and joined them. “In case I get eaten, you guys can get away” he said, answering Emma’s inquiring look.

  “Oh.”

  The front steps were red brick and solid despite one corner being chipped. The front door was thick metal with a leaded glass inset.

  Tapping the spray painted mark on it, he said, “It should be clear of z’s in there. We already did a sweep of the building.”

  Juan tugged on the door to find it locked. “Of course, it wouldn’t be easy.”

  Rune returned to the sidewalk, searching for another way inside. “Better hurry up before the zombies show up.”

  Emma jogged past him toward the corner of the building. “There’s a side door. I saw it when we pulled up.”

  The wooden fence surrounding the side yard had long ago fallen over and was trapped beneath the heavy mesh of weeds and wild grass. A stone fountain was in pieces and the wrought iron benches set around it were orange with rust. Barely visible beneath the browned foliage, a flagstone path wound alongside the building to a wooden door warped with time and rain.

  “Careful, Em,” Juan warned, joining her.

  “I know. Crawling zombies.”

  “Nah. I was thinking rattlesnakes.”

  With those words, Juan brushed past her and cautiously started along the pathway. Emma followed, with Rune taking up the rear. The breeze stirred the thick overgrowth, making it undulate. It was easy to imagine a zombie scuttling along beneath it toward them. As a precaution, she kept her pistol trained on the ground, watching for any signs of the undead.

  A jack rabbit erupted from a hiding spot nearby, darting through the shrubs and into the alley. Though all three of them started, no one panicked and shot at the frightened creature. Emma’s confidence in her two companions solidified. She liked that they could keep their wits about them even when under the threat of a possible zombie attack.

  Juan reached the rickety wooden steps leading up to the door. With a firm hand, he shook the structure. It fell apart in his grip with a loud clatter. The noise sent grackles into an angry tirade in the nearby trees. A rapid search of the staircase remains revealed one solid piece of wood which he used to pry open the door. It swung outward on creaky rusted hinges. There was a loud crack when the top hinge sprang free of the doorframe and the door buckled over, striking the side of the building. The grackles furiously protested the racket, hoping from branch to branch to squawk.

  “She definitely knows we’re coming,” Rune muttered.

  Bristling, Juan shot Rune a sharp look. “You couldn’t have done it any quieter?”

  “You need to take it down a notch. Now is not the time.”

  “When will it be time, Rune?”

  “I told you, I can’t control them.”

  “I don’t know what this is about, but we just made a shit-ton of noise. We need to get moving,” Emma cut in, giving both men a disapproving glower. “Macy is what’s important right now.”

  Juan responded with a curt nod.

  “I agree. Let’s see what we got here.” Rune edged forward to peer into the open doorway that was about five feet off the ground. “Good news. He’s waiting for us in the hallway. We’re on the right track.”

  “I’ll take lead.” Hoisting himself up into the doorway, Juan disappeared for a few seconds. “These are the only two entrances,” he said when he returned. “I can see her footprints in the dust heading upstairs. No sign of anyone else following, so we should be good. Let me help you up, Em.”

  Emma holstered her pistol and extended her hands. His calloused ones closed around hers and he easily lifted her off the ground. His t-shirt clung to his muscled chest and shoulders, drawing her admiration. Catching herself, she looked away. Juan set her down on the filthy and warped linoleum floor, his hand briefly squeezing hers. It was such a rapid gesture, when he let go she wasn’t sure if it had actually happened. Ignoring the sudden flush of her face, she drew her weapon and stared down the long, gloomy hallway to a window covered in yellowed newspaper. The doors on the bottom floor were spray painted with the distinctive markings of the Fort. At the far end, barely visible in the dim lighting, was another hallway and the bottom steps of the staircase.

  Rune hauled himself up to join them and wiped his hands off, then redrew his Glock. “He’s pointing up the stairs. I’ll take lead since he’s guiding me.”

  Juan waved her forward after the biker. “After you, Em.”

  The floor was solid beneath her feet despite the popping noise of the linoleum cracking apart beneath their footsteps. Hard wood peeked out from beneath the ugly yellow fake tile. The building was old, reeking of mildew. She wondered if the Fort would ever expand far enough to absorb it. It would need renovation, but it appeared the bones of the structure were solid. The stairs were old, worn, and solid wood. They creaked enough to let anyone upstairs know that visitors were on their way up.

  A few steps ahead of her, Rune answered an unseen person a few times, nodded his head, pointed in one direction, then grunted in agreement.

  “What’s up?” Juan asked.

  “He’s getting chattier the closer we get to his wife,” Rune replied. “She’s on the third floor and knows we’re coming. Also, she ain’t happy.”

  The second floor was worse than the first. A busted window had let in the elements. Mold covered one wall that was damp from a recent rain and rotting debris covered the floor. They hugged the far wall, making sure to bypass any parts of the surface that might be too fragile to walk on. The staircase to the third floor was narrower and Macy and her son’s footprints were plain in the thick film that covered the steps.

  The air was humid, stale, and speckled with the dust stirred by their passage. Emma sneezed a few times, then tucked her face into the collar of her shirt. The hallway at the top of the stairs was brightly lit from the sunlight flooding through a big hole torn in the roof. A dead tree branch lay on the floor near it. It was easy to surmise what had happened.

  Rune gestured to a door down the hall. “Corner room on the left.”

  The closer they drew to their destination, the tighter the knot of anxiety grew in Emma’s chest. It wasn’t rooted in fear of the undead, but in the possibility of failure. She had lived the last year and three months of her life in a tiny, hot, and sometimes squalid Airstream. For most of it she’d been alone with the ghosts of her past and fears of the future. The thought of Macy living in such a decrepit building while clinging to hope made her chest heavy. It hit too close to home.

  Rune reached the door, once a bright red now faded to maroon, and knocked.

  A woman’s tired voice answered, “Come in.”

  Rune gently pressed the door open, taking a moment to scrutinize the situation beyond the threshold. With a nod to the others, he stepped inside. Emma scuttled in behind Rune and holstered her weapon. She didn’t want to appear to be a threat. Rune also put away his Glock. Juan had his shotgun, but aimed at the floorboards.

  Emma finally got a good look at the other woman. Macy had large, dark eyes with thick eyelashes and her slender face was framed with thick curls that formed a halo around her head. Tall and leanly muscled, she was wearing different clothes from the previous day: jeans, a black tank, and an unbuttoned chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She was perched on a rickety old chair next to a card table covered in empty water bottles, cellophane wrappers, and a can of air freshener. A backpack filled with canned and boxed food rested against the wall alongside two jugs of water. Emma knew the woman hadn’t traveled with those items, so the Fort must have provided the supplies, along with a sleeping bag stretched out in one corner.

  In the opposite one, Julian, in his mask, was pacing restlessly at the end of a leash his mother had tied to the radiator. Growling low in his chest, the little boy pulled at the end of the thick leather strap, his small hands clawing in their direction. Beneath a layer of air freshener, the room smelled of rotting meat.

  “I
thought you said you’d let me decide my own fate,” Macy said, directing an angry glare at Juan.

  “Yes, it’s your decision to join us or not.”

  “But you’re here,” Macy said, her annoyance evident.

  Emma stepped forward. “We want to help.”

  “And you are?” Marcy didn’t move from her chair, but tapped her fingers lightly against the surface of the table.

  “I’m Emma. This is Rune.”

  “So Emma, Rune, and Juan, you tracked me down after I blew out of that other building in the middle of the night so I wouldn’t be bothered by you folks. So unless you’re here to offer me the cure, I gotta say I’m not feeling too hospitable.”

  The two men gave Emma expectant looks. It had been her choice to come, so it was only right that she should take the lead. She cleared her throat.

  “Macy, I want to help you. I know you’re in a lot of pain and-”

  The woman let out a sound of derision. “You think?”

  “I know. I lost my son too.”

  “I didn’t lose my son. He is right there. Waiting for a cure.”

  “We told you, Macy-”

  “I know what you told me, Juan.” Macy shot him a furious look. “I heard you loud and clear.”

  Silence fell over the room, only disrupted by the growls of the zombie child.

  “We’re not here to do you harm,” Rune said, breaking through the uncomfortable quiet.

  “There is nothing you can offer me other than a cure.”

  “We gave you food and-”

  “Take it back then,” Macy cut in, glaring at Juan. “I’ll find my own supplies.”

  This was not going the way Emma had thought it would.

  “That’s not what I’m saying,” Juan said, raising his hands in surrender.

  “Then what is it you’re saying?”

  “We’re here to help, ma’am,” Rune said in a gentle voice.

  The situation was getting away from them swiftly.

  Julian snarled in the corner, straining on the leash, which made it difficult to think straight. The radiator let out a metallic groan as it pulled away from the wall. Julian flung himself at Emma, the zombie child’s fingers gripping her arm in a painful vise.

  12

  Time to Move On

  The tiny fingers of the zombie child were surprisingly strong as they dug into the tough fabric of Emma’s denim jacket. Growling, Julian slammed the face guard of the mask he was wearing against her arm. Behind the slim metal bars, his teeth snapped together as he strained to bite her and the smell of rot that emanated from his blackened mouth was overpowering. Gagging, Emma attempted to jerk her arm away from the child’s bruising grip, but couldn’t break free.

  With a cry of dismay, Macy dashed across the room and grabbed her son about the waist. The child’s hold tightened on Emma’s sleeve as his mother attempted to yank him off. Grunting, the dead boy thrashed in Macy’s arms, fighting to reach his prey. He slammed the face mask into Emma’s arm over and over again, frantic to bite her.

  “Julian, stop it! You know better!”

  Juan joined the struggle. He attempted to pry the dead child’s fingers off of Emma’s arm, but Macy shoved him away and shot him a furious look.

  “Don’t! He’s delicate!”

  “I can’t hurt him,” Juan protested. “He’s dead!”

  “He’s rotting. You might pull off a finger, or even his arm,” Rune soberly remarked.

  Macy glowered at Rune, but didn’t refute his assertion.

  Though dead for months, his dark skin discolored, his fingernails blackened, and his once dark eyes pale and lifeless, the boy didn’t look as decomposed as other zombies. He was gradually decaying. The virus slowed the natural process of decomposition in the zombies. Emma had observed that herself while clearing out her town. Julian looked deceptively alive from a distance, but up close it was evident he was a zombie.

  At last, Macy managed to pull her son off of Emma and dragged him to the corner. “Julian, I told you not to do that! You can’t bite people!”

  Eerily calm, Macy re-tied the leash to a more solid part of the radiator. She ignored Julian as he clawed at her, his fingers hooking into her afro and jerking her head toward him. Once his leash was secure, she focused on the zombie child and patiently removed his hands from her curls.

  “No, Julian. Be a good boy,” she chastised him in a patient, loving tone.

  Emma exchanged disbelieving looks with Juan and Rune, who were clearly unnerved by Macy’s interaction with Julian. The mother was acting like her dead child was just being naughty instead of a monster attempting to tear into Emma’s flesh. Her denial of his condition was startling and unsettling.

  When Emma had seen Billy’s zombified corpse, her only thought had been to release him from his terrible existence. The difference between the two mothers was that hope of a cure had given Macy time to grow accustomed to her son’s condition. She was blinded by hope and love to the truth. For the first time, Emma realized they might not be able to convince Macy to join the others at the Fort. Their task was definitely more daunting and complex than Emma had thought, and she realized there was a good chance they would leave without Macy.

  Rune crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes downcast and his expression grim. A sigh escaped his lips and he nervously tugged at his mustache. Since he was privy to a world Emma couldn’t see, she wondered what was so unsettling. She moved closer to him and nudged him with her elbow.

  “Do you see something?”

  Rune nodded once.

  Juan ventured over to Macy’s side to make doubly sure the leash was tied securely to the radiator and probably to make sure it would hold. While he worked, the distraught mother lectured her growling zombified son while holding his arms firmly to his sides to keep him from lunging at her.

  “What do you see?” Emma asked.

  Rune let out a ragged breath. “The boy’s spirit is tied to his body. I didn’t see it at first. He was hiding in the shadows by the radiator, but he’s there.”

  A sudden head rush left Emma dizzy. She steadied herself with one hand on Rune’s shoulder. He caught her elbow and gave her a moment to compose herself.

  “Emma, your boy moved on. He ain’t here.”

  Swallowing hard, Emma gave him a short nod. “Thank you for telling me that.”

  “Julian, though, is confused and afraid. He’s tethered to this reality.”

  “Because she won’t let him go?”

  Rune inclined his head. “Yeah.”

  Macy shot them a curious look over her shoulder. “Why would I let him go? I’m his mother. He’s safe with me.”

  Realizing they’d been overheard, Emma turned to face Macy while Rune sheepishly looked away. Juan paused in his task, his expression guarded.

  “We didn’t mean to let go of his zombified body,” Emma responded in a careful tone.

  Giving Emma an incredulous look over her shoulder, Macy scowled. “You’re not making sense.”

  Emma took a deep breath before proceeding. “Macy, your son isn’t at peace because you’re not letting him move on.”

  Releasing her son’s shoulders, Macy stood and swiveled about to face Emma. “How dare you!”

  Julian instantly lunged at Juan, who straightaway pinned the snarling kid to the wall with one hand. Agitated, Macy jerked her son away from Juan and dragged the thrashing zombie to a nearby door. Opening it to reveal a decrepit bathroom beyond the doorway, Macy pushed her son inside.

  “You’re having a time out, Julian.”

  The leash caught on the doorjamb, stretching it taut. Macy held her son’s body at arm’s length and shut the door, pulling her hand free just as it clicked shut. The zombie immediately banged on the wood with his small fists.

  “Calm down, Julian, and I’ll let you out in a few minutes.”

  “This is so bad,” Rune muttered to Emma. “He’s so scared.”

  Macy faced them, her chin lifted in defiance. “Don
’t tell me how to parent. He’s not scared. He’s…he’s…” She struggled to find the right words that wouldn’t upset her precariously balanced conviction on her son’s condition.

  “He’s scared,” Rune repeated, his tone heated and edged with frustration.

  Juan scooted over from the radiator with a shiver. “Kinda cold there, Rune.”

  Rune responded with a sober nod. “It would be.”

  Realizing he wasn’t looking at the bathroom door, but the darkened area near the radiator, Macy gave the spot an uneasy look. “Why are you looking there?”

  “That’s where he’s hiding,” Rune replied.

  Macy lifted her eyebrows. “No he’s not. He’s in the bathroom.”

  Stepping toward the mother, Emma swallowed the lump in her throat threatening to choke her. It was not the time to let the memories of her own loss get the best of her. “We’re here to help you and Julian, but you have to accept that your son is not in that corpse locked in the bathroom. He’s-”

  “Don’t you start lecturing me about him being in heaven! I’ve heard that enough from Lewis.”

  “He’s not in heaven. He’s over there. In that corner. Afraid.”

  Rune’s bluntness made Emma flinch.

  Looking peeved, Macy blurted out, “That’s nonsense!”

  Emma moved in front of Rune, taking charge of the increasingly emotional situation. “Macy, Rune is a medium. That’s why he came with Juan and me. To help you realize that your son isn’t in that decaying corpse. His spirit is tethered to you because you haven’t let him move on.”

  “Bullshit! Mediums are scams.”

  “No, ma’am. I’m the real deal.”

  “Prove it.”

  Squaring his shoulders, Rune glanced to one side and waited a few seconds before he replied. “Clive says you’re stubborn, but you have to listen to the truth.”

  Macy scowled. “Lewis could have told you my husband’s name. Besides, he’s not dead. He’s with his mother and brothers.”

  With a weary sigh, Rune shook his head. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he met his end two weeks ago along with the rest of his family. They got overrun in the middle of the night.”