End of the Line (Book 2): Stuck in the Middle

by Lara Frater

  “Hi Dad, it’s good to hear your voice.”

  “How are you and your friends?”

  “We’re okay. How about your house?”

  My father didn’t respond. I wondered, for a moment, if the connection was dropped.

  “We lost Mr. Halibratt—,” he finally said. “It wasn’t zombies, old age, I think. I guess seventy is the new ninety.” My dad told me what happened after my mother and sister died. At first he stayed in the house and buried both of them in the backyard. Lived off what food he had. The water, electricity and gas stayed on for a long time. Eventually he realized he couldn’t cut it alone. He learned that all his friends and neighbors had died except Old Mr. Halibratt.

  They couldn’t find a house to let them in because of their age so they formed their own. My dad wasn’t the oldest, not even Mr. Haibratt, but they looked after each other. It made me feel bad about our limits in Costking. I never liked them, even though I went along with them. Sooner or later we all get old.

  Around Thanksgiving an Ohio radio operator started broadcasting on an AM station. Bob Bam’s radio show was the highlight of their week and my father admitted he burst into tears when he heard my name.

  “Sorry to hear that.” I remembered Mr. Halibratt as the kindly old man who gave terrible Halloween candy. Every year I got stale Mary Janes or chewy ribbon candy. “At least he wasn’t killed by the zombies.”

  “We don’t see them as much. They come around, but they are as you said, old ones.”

  “We have them too. We kill them when we see them.” I didn’t mention floaters.

  My dad didn’t respond.

  “Dad.”

  “I wish I could see you, Jimmy. I feel like I wasted a lifetime being angry over who you were when I should have just loved you.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I had wanted this conversation my entire life. To have both my parents love and accept me. I wanted them at my wedding and to treat Cameron as they would if he was female.

  “Your mother felt the same way at the end.” Even though both my parents weren’t that accepting of me, my mom was much worse than my dad. He called Cameron by his name where she called him ‘That man you live with’.

  “All she wanted was her children. She died within 12 hours of getting sick. Kept asking for you, Mary, Lori, even Ellie who was dead in the next room—“

  “Dad, you don’t have to say all this. I know mom loved me in her own way.”

  “I want to. She didn’t suffer that much, Jimmy. She was delirious most of the time but she kept saying how much she loved and was proud of you. She especially thought of you, she worried about all the wasted time and wanted your and God’s forgiveness. I lied and told her everyone was fine and that you and God forgave her. I never lied to her before.” I don’t know if he was lying now to make me feel better or give me closure. I decided to believe what he said. Sometimes fantasy works better than reality.

  I didn’t tell dad my location and neither did he. I’m sure other people have ham radios and can listen but don’t talk. If an unsavory person was listening I didn’t want trouble. I only let him know I was as safe as could be.

  Mike came into the room at the worst time ever, but we were going to Orient Beach today. I wiped my eyes. Mike said nothing. Instead he went out on the deck to get the dinghy ready.

  “Dad—It’s time for me to go. I’ll talk to you next week.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise, dad, I love you.”

  “I love you too Jimmy.” I turned off the radio and stood up. Mike was waiting outside. A moment later Annemarie came out from her cabin in the aft. She wore men’s jeans, a sweatshirt over many layers. Her red hair was loose and on her shoulders. She recovered from her fall into the water and I knew she was anxious to get off the boat even if was for a few hours. I still worried about her mental state but at least it was improving, as we got closer to spring.

  It was late February close to the second anniversary of the fall of civilization. Two years without Cam. It was unseasonable warm today, and we were heading to Orient beach where we saw a group of survivors late last year. Annemarie wanted to check up on them. She also had been itching to get off the boat for a while. Honestly I worried she was going to crack up.

  Winter hadn’t been as bad as I thought despite the food poisoning and the leak. We had been some icy cold nights where we used more kerosene than rationed but it only snowed about three or four times, never a blizzard. We even had a snowball fight on the bridge. The rationing helped. The only exception was when Annemarie fell off the boat and we had to put her in a warm shower for 10 minutes. She made up for that by giving up her five minutes showers for two weeks and being less of a bitch afterwards. Everyone, especially Mike was pissed at Tanya for not telling him about Keith. I didn’t blame her because I kept Rachel’s secret.

  I scouted out a perfect place for a farm on Harbor Island. I was excited but Tanya was overly cautious. I read in a book that this farm was not only still in use, but had a museum with antique farm equipment that might work and a cold room to store foods in without refrigeration. As long as it was vacant, we could nab it. If it wasn’t, we could share or find another farm. I can’t imagine all of them have people.

  I stood on the deck enjoying the sun in my face and hoping for an early spring, while Tanya sailed, and she was not bad considering she had never been on a boat. Still, Grace did almost all of it with Hannah helping.

  We passed Orient beach but didn’t see anyone. Tanya put the anchor down while Mike got the dinghy ready.

  Eric wasn’t on deck. Probably because Grace was. I didn’t know how long he would hold a grudge. She did the right thing.

  I missed Maddie and Rachel, my best friends. I’m glad to have Tanya and we had gotten close, but she had become distant since being leader. It took her forever to pick a farm we could settle. I knew she was unhappy Rachel foisted leadership on her. I can’t say I blame her. Rachel picked both of us, but I had shrugged most of my responsibilities off letting Tanya make the hard decisions.

  Mike got the dinghy into the water and climbed down to get it ready. Once he signaled we could go down, Grace went first, followed by Annemarie who slowly went down the ladder watching her every step. I stood at the edge looking into the water wondering how cold it must have been when she fell in. She never said but Henry told me her skin felt like ice.

  Keith was tied to a chair for twelve hours. He didn’t get sick, didn’t get pale, and took the whole thing in stride.

  “Come on, Jim,” Dave said.

  I hopped over the side and onto the ladder. Mike held the dinghy so it was a steady and I climbed in. I took a seat next to Grace who had her rifle strapped to her back. I knew she had a side arm too. Mike had given her two and taught her to use it. Like every other firearm, she mastered it quickly but the rifle was still her favorite. She talked more and wasn’t always sarcastic. She had warmed up to Mike, probably over their love of guns.

  Mike gave me a handgun that even Grace told him was a bad idea. I told my dad this a few weeks ago and he laughed for three minutes. I hated guns. I always had. I’m grateful they can take out the zombies but I often wished for a world without them. I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I was an idealist, not stupid but I preferred hitting zombs repeatedly with a baseball bat or a crowbar.

  While Cam wasn’t a gun nut, he occasionally went skeet shooting with fellow Log Cabin Republicans which he could never convince me to come along. He didn’t like gun control. He thought it was constitutionally protected and he felt gays needed to be armed. I thought they were icky. He thought that was cute.

  Mike had bought an entire arsenal with him. The giant SUV he drove was piled high with guns and ammo, more than food. He even had a rocket launcher he built himself. I sometimes thought he was nutty but glad he was on our side.

  The guns were locked in a storage cabinet in the luggage compartment in the lower level. Everyone except Simon, Brie and Keith had a firearm and the
only reason Keith didn’t yet was Mike was waiting for the weather to be warm to show him how to use it.

  Mike started the engine and we were off. We sometimes rowed the dinghy to save gas but today we used it because we were a half mile off shore.

  Tanya wanted to come but Mike said it would probably be better if he did first contacts. We didn’t know how other groups were structured. The government camp had been run by a woman and policed by three men but from what Rachel told me most of the militias were run by men. They may not like that our leader was a twenty-something black woman. It upset me that even after the apocalypse we had to deal with this. We couldn’t tell people Tanya was our leader or I was gay.

  Mike stopped the dinghy close to the beach. I stepped out into cold water that iced my feet even though I wore waterproof and insulated boots. I quickly moved to the beach as did the others. When we were all off, Mike pulled the dinghy all the way to shore.

  Annemarie had seen them on the beach, but we weren’t quite where they were. I had never been here but Mike had. He said they could be in the pavilions, concession stands and ranger stations or the lighthouse. We started at the place they were spotted.

  Even though it was a warmer day, it was still winter. The air was dry and chilly. I still dressed in my winter coat. The handgun felt uncomfortable in the inner pocket.

  Boating hadn’t been allowed off this beach, but I don’t think that mattered now.

  Then a bad smell hit. I hated that I recognized it so quickly. The smell of the dead and among it could be zombies.

  “Maybe this ain’t a good idea,” Dave said.

  I usually didn’t agree with Dave but I did in this case. It didn’t stop me from moving closer to the pavilions and the smell. I can’t imagine anyone would live here.

  I saw the first body but no movement. No zombies or living people.

  “It’s only dead people,” Mike said. “Probably flu victims.”

  That changed after Mike took a few steps forward.

  “Holy mother of god.”

  I didn’t want to see but curiosity took over. I moved closer to take a better look at the pavilion.

  Bodies were scattered all over the picnic areas. On tables, on the ground, on blankets and sleeping bags. All ages, genders, races, a diverse crowd of dead bodies.

  I didn’t throw up. The bodies were horribly decayed, and I didn’t see marks they were attacked. These were all flu victims who had been here a long time. The outbreak started in May. Maybe some were enjoying the park, or others fled here because they thought it safe to be away from people. I didn’t move forward to investigate the rest of the area. I saw the tattered tents and peeling paint on shuttered concessions. This area belonged to the dead.

  “Let’s just go to the lighthouse,” Mike said, his voice low.

  We went back to shore to get the dinghy. Mike and Dave dragged it along shore then placed it back in the water.

  The lighthouse was at the western end of the Orient, away from the State Park. Mike had to use the motor to get there. The smell of the dead diminished as we got closer replaced by sea air. When we got to shore, we saw two rowboats pulled all the way to the entrance.

  “Hello!” Mike called out before we even got there. “Anyone here? We’re friendly!”

  “Hello,” a male voice yelled out. I looked at a window and saw a man looking out. The window was slightly ajar. “You’re armed.”

  “Against the zombies,” Mike explained. “We aren’t here for trouble. We saw you last December. We couldn’t back here until today.”

  “Are you from the government?”

  “No, I don’t think there’s a government anymore.”

  “What about hunters? Are you hunters?”

  “No—I mean we hunt them if we come across them—“

  The window closed. We walked closer to the entrance. A moment later the door opened. The man from the window stood in front. He looked terrible. He was gaunt and his clothes were shabby. He wore many layers of different kinds of clothing but no coat. His skin was brown and he looked Hispanic but had no accent.

  “You’re the ones from the boat?” he said. “The big yacht?”

  “That was us. How many you got here.”

  “There were 16 of us originally,” he explained. “Now there are only four.”

  “You lost 12 in only three months?” I asked, shocked.

  “No, we’ve been here since it started. I thought it would be good place to get away from the dying. I guess not.”

  “And you’ve never left Orient? Not in the last year and a half.”

  “Nope. We brought food, collected rainwater. When there was still electricity and gas we ate the food in the concession stand. We saved all the non-perishables and stored them. Sucks to live on chips and candy. We fished when we could. We figured it would be over in a few weeks and we could go home but then the TV and internet went out. The radio is static except for the ham guy. Are you Mike?” He said, looking at me.

  Mike looked taken back that the guy knew his name. “I’m Mike.”

  The guy’s eyes lit up. He looked at Grace. “Are you Tanya, I thought you were black.”

  “God no,” she said. Probably one of the few times I heard horror in her voice.

  “I’m Jim,” I said before Felix could respond to Grace. “This is Annemarie, Dave and Grace.”

  “I was the one who saw you on the beach,” Annemarie said. She looked relieved. I guess she was glad to get off the boat and to find them.

  “Good to meet you. You’re Jimmy, aren’t you? The one who found your dad?”

  “You really like Bob’s show.” I said.

  “Sure. Bob’s show is the highlight of our week, come on in.”

  We followed the man into the lighthouse to an almost icy bottom floor.

  “We got a fireplace upstairs where we stay most of the time. I’m Felix by the way,” he said, putting his dirty hand out. I hesitated but then shook it.

  We went up a spiral staircase.

  “This lighthouse burnt down. This is a replica they used as a museum piece. Everything is working the way it would in 1802, except for the water pump, so we’ve been using rainwater. Fireplace works and there’s furniture. Hate sleeping on antiques but what are you gonna do?”

  I don’t respond, neither did anyone else. We got up the second floor where it was warmer and found a large room with a fireplace in the center. Two large couches and two air mattresses surrounded a roaring fire. Three people were scattered about the room, two men, one white, one Asian sat on a couch while a black woman with short cropped hair sat on the other. There were all dressed similar to Felix and were all gaunt looking, even the white guy who was heavy. They looked up when we came in.

  “Randy, Justin, Gwen, we got some famous people here from the Bob Bam show.”

  I wondered if Felix was bonkers after being holed up here for so long; he wouldn’t be the only one. I didn’t see any guns, just some baseball bats. The three of them got off the couch and walked to us.

  “Hi ya,” the Asian guy said. He looked to be in his early thirties. “I’m Randy. Which one of you is Mike?”

  Mike raised his hand but looked embarrassed.

  “It’s great to put the face to the voice,” said the woman I assumed was Gwen. She had a low quiet voice. “Tanya didn’t come?”

  “No,” he said. “This is Jim, Dave, Annemarie and Grace.”

  “We’ve been kind of wondering where you were,” the other white guy that I assume was Justin said. He looked like he was in his late forties. “I don’t know where everyone went after them bombs dropped. No one came out here except for some hunters recruiting.”

  “Hunters?”

  “Yeah, last fall two men came when there were eight of us. They were looking for people to help them hunt.”

  “They asked me,” Randy said. “I had been in a Merchant Marine—but I didn’t want to leave the others. They were looking for strong people mostly but we had just gotten over a bo
ut of dysentery and none of us looked healthy.”

  “And that’s all we’ve seen,” Felix continued. “Until Gwen and I saw your boat. Hard to imagine all of the island deserted.”

  “I think some went to Montauk or left the island entirely.”

  “Could you leave?” Felix asked.

  “The Throgs Neck Bridge was intact. I don’t if it still is. We managed to make it to Albany to drop off a friend going west. That was before the bombs.” I thought about Ashley and wondered if she ever made it. I hoped she did, but I would never find out.

  “Suppose it’s not there anymore,” Felix said, looking dejected.

  “I don’t know.”

  “We thought about leaving and going north,” Gwen said. “But decided it would be madness. I can’t imagine how many other people tried the same thing.”

  “The government walled off most of Manhattan and parts of Queens and Brooklyn. I can’t tell you if you made the right decision.” I wasn’t sure myself. I often wondered if we should have left the island when we had a chance. “I think you can get to Connecticut by boat.”

  “We’re running low on supplies,” Gwen explained. “We have a car on the beach with half a tank to get us off Orient but not sure if there’s anywhere else better. How bad is it out there?”

  “Most of the bodies haven’t been buried or burned,” And I hated thinking of the death toll, the sheer amount of dead people made my stomach clench. I found it too overwhelming to think about. “How come you didn’t burn the people at the pavilion?”

  No one said anything, for at least ten seconds before Gwen spoke up.

  “We didn’t have anything to burn them with,” she explained. “And we didn’t want a fire. We thought about burying them but we didn’t like straying far from the lighthouse. I know it sounds cold, but did you burn and bury every body you found?”