The trip home was uneventful. It did start to sprinkle a little bit before I reached the fire escape ladder, but it was tolerable. I would have heat and hot food tonight. It was something to look forward to. I’d spent half the day shopping. It was already past lunch and I was starting to get hungry. I ate a couple of the larger chocolate bars and set to ferrying all of my goods to the roof of the radio station.
***
It was night by the time I made it home. I tried to carry some stuff up the rope ladder, but it was nearly impossible. After doing a quick jog around the block and deeming it ‘safe’, I unbarricaded one of the doors. It was about an hour later as I finished bringing in all of the tools and supplies and barricading the door again. I was very sore. I was exhausted. Somehow, I managed to cook up some beef stew and mashed potatoes and gravy. It was the best meal I’d had in over a month. Not at all bad for a dehydrated meal ration. It was heavenly. Hungry really is the best spice, as my dad had always said. I adjusted the heater down a little to save on fuel and double checked all of the barricades.
Satisfied that nothing was amiss, I grabbed another chocolate bar for dessert. If I’m sore tonight, I can’t imagine how sore I’ll be tomorrow. Might as well turn in early and get some sleep.
8
I cleaned off a twenty by forty foot section of the roof corner and laid out all of the wood in a pile next to it. It took several hours to frame the giant box, but I ended up with a huge tic-tac-toe grid. Even with the colder weather, I was drenched in sweat.
I dumped all of the potting soil into the planter box and spread it flat. It wasn’t enough. I ended up having to make a couple more trips to the home improvement store and ferry more dirt. While I was there, I also grabbed some chicken wire and heavy green plastic sheeting.
After the planters were finally full, I used a bucket and soaked the dirt with water from the barrels. I checked the seed packets I had. Potatoes for sure would survive the cold. Turnips, radishes, and carrots should as well, according to their packaging.
With a two-foot tall planter box and a makeshift mini-greenhouse, this would have to work.
I planted four sections of potatoes. That should give me plenty of calories. Then I planted one each of the carrots, radishes, and turnips. I looked through the packaging then picked out beets and peas for the last two plots. I’ve never been much of a vegetarian, but it would be better than living off of granola and chocolate candy bars for the rest of my life. Besides, eventually, even those would run out. I needed a sustainable food source.
Off in the distance, a muffled explosion caught my attention. Was that someone blowing up zombies? Or giving up on life? I guess there’s no way to know… The thought caught me off guard. When did I become so numb to all of this?
I rinsed the dirt from my hands and stretched. I hurt. Everywhere. But it had been worth it. I had my very own rooftop garden and eventually, it would produce food enough to keep my belly full.
The sky darkened as the sun set behind the dark clouds. I smiled. Was this what it was like to survive on your own six-hundred years ago? Just man versus nature? I have a chance at survival by the direct effort of my own willpower. How many people working their nine-to-fives could honestly say that?
I slowly stirred the camping meal. Salisbury steak tonight. How many others are out there, right now, just barely hanging on? I have it easy right now, all things considered. And now that I’m somewhat safe, I feel as if I have a duty to those less fortunate than myself. Should I try to find others and help them? I thought about that for a few minutes as I cooked my food. I recalled a certain movie I’d seen when I was younger. And an old uncle had said something about responsibility coming from power. Do I have a responsibility to help others?
I sat down to eat as I pondered my future. The government won’t ever let anyone out of an infected area escape and possibly spread the virus. The survivors are trapped here, on our own. So… If people like that black guy don’t save those less capable, how will anyone survive long enough to learn to take care of themselves?
I returned my food. After I finished, I cleaned up the mess I’d made. No sense in tripping over a random piece of lumber and breaking my leg. Or falling off the radio station. That’d be a quick end, wouldn’t it? I shook the thoughts from my head. No time to be thinking like that.
I don’t know if I have a responsibility to other survivors, but what else is there? I already owed the parkour kid my life… Maybe I should pay that forward? What would he do? Actually, I already knew that. He’s out saving people. People who couldn’t take care of themselves. Like me a month ago. I made up my mind. I had the power to help others, so I was going to do it.
I checked the barricades. Everything was fine as usual. Gotta keep checking them. One night they won’t be. I set the two machetes next to my bedding and went to sleep.
***
The next morning was cold and dreary and I could see my breath before me. Rain fell lightly as I looked out over the rooftop of my home. Might as well get to work. This water isn’t going to collect itself…
I grabbed the rain gutter pieces I’d stolen from the home improvement store and dumped them unceremoniously in a pile next to the roof-top outbuilding that housed the staircase. The rain gutters were plastic, so making changes to them just required the use of a small saw. A few cuts later, and I’d detached it from the drain system it had been connected to. I added a right angle connector and a four-foot section of rain gutter and extended it out, resting it across the four barrels.
I used the saw to make grooves in the bottom, then punched out the pieces with a screwdriver and a hammer. The water flowed into the barrels. I smiled. This should hold me for a while. At least until I get another source of water. I looked up at the sky. Not like the rain is going to let up for the time being. And snow is only a few weeks away…
I checked the fuel tank on the generator. The twenty-gallon tank was still at three quarters. That should last me a while. I would still need to secure more fuel. Might as well get going now. I headed back to the convenience store and grabbed the last two five-gallon fuel cans on the shelf. I’d brought one of my machetes and had it dangling from my belt. I also brought a few feet of clear plastic tubing.
There were cars everywhere. I stopped at the first one and popped the gas flap. Looking around, I made sure I was safe for the time being. This is the part I always hated… I stuffed the hose down into the gas tank until it bottomed out. With the free end, I sucked the air through the hose until gas started flowing. Of course, some got in my mouth. I was never good at doing it fast enough when I’d been a kid, and that hadn’t changed. I spat fuel out and shoved the hose into the fuel can. Gravity would do the rest of the work for me.
I kept watch as I siphoned the fuel from the minivan. I quickly had to switch out cans as I’d filled the first one. Minutes later, I was slowly making my way home with two five-gallon gas cans, filled to the brim. It was slow going. Six pounds per gallon give or take. Ten gallons. You’d think sixty pounds would be easy to carry, but, the distance seemed to make it weigh a million pounds.
It took almost half the day to make it back with the fuel cans. I dumped them both into the generator’s fuel tank. It was essentially a fifty-gallon drum on its side, suspended by a metal framework and gravity-fed into the motor.
I headed back out into the drizzle and started working out with the cinder blocks I’d found on the roof.
9
I worked on building my core strength and my arms and legs. I’d never been a bodybuilder or anything, but the last month of fighting zombies and granola and protein bars, I was looking pretty lean. I flexed and my arms bulged with strength. “Not bad…” I looked damned good. I felt even better.
After stretching, I took off my shirt and I started practicing my martial arts. I’d taken Tae Kwon Do for a bit and ended up being bored. I switched to Kosho Ryu Kempo and loved it for a while. Then school and work got in the way and I had to quit. Most I ever managed wa
s a green belt. Versus zombies? More than plenty.
Practicing in the rain felt amazing, even in the cold. I focused my senses as I held a punch forward, and the raindrops slowed down again. That is so cool. Now that I was calm and focused, I could hear my pulse pounding in my ears. With my heightened senses, I could feel the raindrops around me before they landed. My reflexes were sharper, my punches and kicks more precise and powerful.
I practiced that way for about five minutes. Then I couldn’t hold it anymore. It was thoroughly exhausting. I’m gonna have to work on that. Maybe if I keep practicing it, I’ll be able to hold it longer each time? It could be the difference between surviving and being zombie food…
I collapsed to my ass in a puddle of rainwater. I couldn’t be bothered to stand back up, so I laid on my back and let the rain pepper my face and chest. It was cold yet refreshing. My body temperature had gone way up as I exercised. A few minutes later, the cold started to get to me. I grabbed my shirt and headed inside.
I stripped down and dried off, putting on a set of dry clothes. I fired up the propane heater and made it nice and cozy. I laid down and started to read a book I’d found in the front office. I had no idea what it was called as most of the cover had been torn off. What I could read said Dres and the author’s first name was Jim. The rest of it was missing.
The book was about a snarky wizard who worked in Chicago as a private investigator. I really liked the guy’s attitude. The author wrote it in first-person, something I’d usually hated since most of the time, I got bored. This author though… I’d have to find more of his work, whoever he was.
A noise outside caught my attention. I rushed out and looked over the edge of the building. A lone zombie was smashing in a car’s hood with its fists. While not exactly a threat, the noise it was making would attract more. Something I didn’t feel like dealing with. I still had my trusty door-opening brick.
I took careful aim and dropped it over the side of the building. The brick landed on the back of its head and it went down in a heap, first sliding off of the car’s front end. Streaks of nastiness smeared down the hood and were soon washed away by the rain. I looked around from every side of the building. Nothing coming this way. Good. Not in the mood for company anyhow… I passed the rest of the afternoon reading.
I’d earned a break and enjoyed the story this Jim had written. I’d never thought about being an author, but if I survived this, maybe I’d become one and write a book. Someone would need to tell the stories of all the bullshit those of us who survived had to endure just to live another day. Might as well be me. Who knows… someday I might make it out of this alive. I laughed out loud. As if the government would allow that… “Wait. But I’m immune,” I said. “Wouldn’t they want my blood to make a cure?”
I grabbed one of the two-way radio that I’d stolen earlier. I extended the telescoping antenna and switched it on. “Anyone copy?” I transmitted on the first channel. Static. I repeated my message on every channel the little radio had. Either no one was listening, or no one was in range. Either way, I’d keep trying it every day. Maybe I could hook the big antenna to it somehow.
***
Evening was upon me faster than I’d have liked. I set down my book and headed outside. The rain had stopped at some point and the horizon glowed a dark red. What is this? Day thirty-seven? That long already…
I made some instant ramen soup I’d picked up from the convenience store. The stuff is bad for you, sure, but I wouldn’t go hungry. And it cooked fast. Just boil the water. Minutes later, I was stuffing my face with the salty mix of freeze-dried noodles, chicken broth, and dehydrated corn and peas.
As I ate, movement caught my eye in my peripheral vision. I put my soup down. About a block away, I could have sworn I saw a kid run past. Nah… no way a kid could have survived this long by themselves. Must have been my imagination... I stood at the edge of the building, looking off into the distance. Just in case I hadn’t imagined it.
I finished eating dinner and started working on sharpening my machetes when I heard two gunshots off in the distance. “Idiot move,” I said. “But I guess you do what you gotta do…” I cleaned up the blades and set them aside. A third gunshot sounded. I shook my head and continued about my maintenance tasks.
I settled down in front of the old electrical panel and tore the main cable out from it. I didn’t need to try to power the entire city block with the medium generator I had at my disposal. But I also wanted to do more than just power the emergency lights. I cut and stripped the wires that fed from the generator and wired them into the circuit panel. I switched off all of the breakers except the ones labeled ‘TOWER’, ‘EXT FLOOD’ and ‘INT LIGHT’.
I headed back out to the roof with my headlamp secured to my forehead. The portable radio sat on the maintenance table below the roof awning. I found the small electrical box labeled ‘TOWER’ and opened it. The wires that fed the tower beacon lights ran through here. Next to the junction, was a standard 110-volt receptacle, likely for maintenance use. Perfect. I wired in the radio and closed the panel.
10
I would be able to make the radio station a beacon at night as well as transmit out to whoever still survived. I’d been given a gift with my immunity. Now I needed to put it to use. If I could save even one person from this hell, that would justify my life. Survivor’s guilt? Probably. But that, that I could atone for.
After making my usual rounds on the perimeter I was satisfied I didn’t have any breaches in the building. The barrels of rainwater were almost halfway full. A nice little stockpile. I’ll need to purify that soon. I’ll have to use some of the tubing, I could boil it and recondense it. That should pull out anything nasty from the water. Guess I’ll worry about that tomorrow… I cranked up the generator and turned on all of the external floodlights. The generator hesitated for a moment before stabilizing under the new, heavier load. The building lit up like a Christmas tree. Now, I could see for almost a block in every direction. Nice.
***
By two in the morning, I was finally finished with all of my projects. I grabbed a granola bar and started munching on it. It was as good a time as any to go to bed. Then I heard the fire escape ladder drop. The adrenaline rush hit me instantly. I rolled forward, grabbing the machetes as I came up. Two machetes at the ready, I awaited whatever came over the edge. A dark-haired, dark-skinned kid cautiously peered over the building.
“You,” I said. “You’re the dude from before.”
“Yup,” he said. “Mind if I come up?”
“Yeah, sure.”
He hopped over the edge and landed gracefully. He smiled. “Thanks,” he said. He was built like an athlete. Tight muscles, barely restrained. No wonder he was so fast.
He chuckled. “You seem to be doing a lot better than the last time I saw you,” he said, looking around. “I like the digs.”
“Thanks,” I said, hesitating.
“Adam. Adam Oliver,” he offered, extending her hand. I shook it.
“Roger Bennet,” I said, extending my hand. He shook it with a firm grip. “And thank you for saving me. I wouldn’t have survived if you hadn’t.”
Adam smiled. “You’ve made it this far on your own, Roger. That’s good,” he said. “Keep it up. Don’t give up now. There’s people out here worth saving.”
“I was hoping there would be,” I said. “I got the transmitter working, I think. Gonna try to broadcast out and see if people start showing up.”
“I like it,” said Adam. “Mobile’s a lost cause by the way. Right now, you’ve got the only safe place in the whole county.”
“I know,” I said. “Heard it on the radio a while back.”
His watched beeped a single tone. “Cool, gotta run man, be seeing you!” With that, he turned and swan-dived from the roof of my building. Panicked, I looked over the edge, but he was gone. Shaking my head, I walked back over to the transceiver and grabbed the mic.
“If you’re hearing this, my name is
Roger Bennet and I’m immune to the virus. If you need my help, I’ll gladly risk my life to get you out of this hell hole. Mobile is a lost cause. An outbreak destroyed it weeks ago. Get to the coast or to the radio station. Saving people from this nightmare is all I have left to live for. Be strong. Be quiet. Be safe. This is Roger Bennet, signing off.” As I set down the mic, I heard a gunshot off in the distance. A few minutes later, I saw a signal flare shoot into the night sky about a mile away. Sleep could wait. There was work to be done.
The End.
Hi, everyone! Thanks so much for reading Roger, a story in the “Tales of Courage from Beyond the Apocalypse” collection!
You can find the authors on Facebook:
Jeremy Fabiano
T. M. Edwards
Email T. M. Edwards at: [email protected]
Tales of Courage From Beyond The Apocalypse (Book 5): Roger Page 3