The Dead Days Journal: Volume 1

by Sandra R. Campbell

“Ben, stop. You can’t. You promised.” I raised my voice to be firm but didn’t scream. When he didn’t stop, I slapped his face. Ben’s eyes shot open and then closed again with a full-body shudder. He collapsed on top of me.

  Ben watched as I finished getting dressed, his eyes glistening in the dark. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t go, Leo.” His whispered pleas were growing louder. I knew he was sorry, just as I knew it wasn’t his fault. Eventually this was going to happen. I had known it. How could we continue to be together and not be together? He couldn’t. I couldn’t.

  “Stop saying you’re sorry.”

  When I stood to go, Ben grabbed my arm. I didn’t pull away but just looked at him with a horrible sadness ripping through my heart. “Let go.”

  Ben released his grip as a single tear escaped his eye and fell. “I love you.”

  Not only did I not say it, I never even looked back. I simply walked away. But my emotions wouldn’t let me stay quiet for long. As soon as I exited the back door, I ran through the cave opening into the early dawn and down to the spring-fed river. Not bothering to take off my mother’s treasured dress, I plunged into the icy-cold river and screamed through the pain under the water.

  I tried to ignore the throbbing ache in my extremities and swam to the middle where I couldn’t touch bottom and the current was strong. I floated on my back and let the river take me away. Above me, the pink hues of dawn were brightening, and I watched the brilliant night stars dissolve into nothing. If only for a short time, I wished to feel nothing, to be nothing. At least now my hands and feet had completely disappeared.

  “Leo! What are you doing?” I didn’t have to look to know it was Lincoln. I recognized the high-pitched squealing and swam toward shore.

  Damn, kid, what are you doing outside alone at this hour?

  Once I started to move again, my arms and legs were no longer unfeeling. My blood was moving as I waded back to shore. Sharp piercing stabs replaced the numb ache.

  “Why are you outside alone?”

  A cool morning breeze raised fresh goose bumps. Chilled straight through to the bone, my teeth chattered like a tightly-wound plastic toy.

  “I had a bad dream and you weren’t in bed.” Lincoln pulled a brown plaid scarf from around his neck and handed it to me. The scarf wasn’t much, but it was enough to get a spot or two dry.

  “Come on. I’ll race you inside and you can tell me all about it.”

  Lincoln didn’t move. He stood there staring past me. I turned around to see Jack crouched on the opposite side of the river. His black hair was shiny wet, as was the rest of his nude, hard-coiled body. Another chill ran through me that had nothing to do with the cold. Jack’s eyes narrowed to dark slits as he watched me take hold of my brother’s pale hand to lead him away from the riverbank. “Come on. Let’s run together.”

  I turned my need for a distraction and dry clothes into a game. It was a stealth recon mission for supplies. We had to accomplish our goal without being seen or heard—a game we played often. Lincoln loved it. Together we darted, ducked, and hid behind corners and stacked crates to wait out unknowing passersby, and then we snuck through the living quarters to my alcove without anyone noticing.

  “Good job, little soldier. You’re a natural.”

  Lincoln celebrated by hopping on my cot and jumping up and down while I searched my footlocker for a fresh towel and clothes. “So, tell me about this nightmare?”

  “It was so scary. A big monster stood over my bed watching me sleep. It had big teeth and claws, and its eyes were glowing and it wanted to eat my heart. It looked like this…”

  Lincoln always had scary nightmares, but Man was the only monster he’d ever seen.

  I dressed in jeans and a thermal hoodie as he pantomimed the description: the eyes were wide, ears pointy, teeth long and protruding, and there were thick claws on the hands and feet. It definitely wasn’t Jack he had dreamt, though it’d been Jack’s face that had flashed through my head when Lincoln first said the word monster.

  “Linc, how do you know the monster wanted your heart?” I asked, rubbing the towel vigorously over my hair.

  “It rocked kind of slow like how Mom and Dad danced. But when I saw it, I got scared. It rocked faster and faster, like how my heart was beating. The monster licked its lips. I know it wanted to eat me, but then it disappeared.”

  “Wow, that’s some dream, but it’s over; and now that you’ve told me, the monster can’t get you again. But if you’re scared, you can sleep in my cot.”

  I knew it was wrong, but I wanted Lincoln to be scared tonight.

  “Want to hang with me today? We can take a hike up the mountain, pick berries, and play hide-and-seek.” Anything to stay away from Ben.

  Lincoln was wringing his hands and smirking like a demon. “Really? Can Zoe come, too?”

  “Sure. Go find her. Don’t forget to grab your survival packs, and then meet me in the courtyard.”

  Each person had their very own survival pack that they kept stocked with previsions such as matches, bandages, food, bottled water, gloves, socks, string, and a jacket or sweater. And even the kids’ packs contained a blade along with a whistle. The packs were more than a safety precaution. They were a lifeline, a chance to survive a night or two in the woods alone. Thanks to my father and Duncan, the entire group knew exactly what to do in case of an emergency.

  Lincoln leapt from my cot. Already yelling Zoe’s name, he was off and running before I could get socks on my feet. Pulling my damp hair into a loose ponytail, I slipped into my boots, grabbed my knife and the pack I kept stashed under my bed, and I headed to the pantry to restock my food supplies.

  I’d just tucked away a few apples, strips of deer jerky, a bag of nuts, and a fresh water bottle when Jack turned the corner. He blocked the door and the only exit. Everything about him seemed tougher and more confrontational, maybe even frightening.

  “Going somewhere…without…me?” Jack’s words were slow, almost methodical.

  I zipped my pack shut, tossed a strap over one shoulder, and tried not to appear as spooked as I felt by his odd behavior. I walked straight to the door, to him, but refused to look at his face as I bullied my way around him. I lied. “My father asked me to take the kids on a hike.”

  “Ah, well, have fun out there.”

  The tone of his voice had me fighting the cringe that was sneaking around my shoulder blades. I kept walking.

  There was no reason for me to creep out over Jack, I told myself. He was just pissed about my relationship with Ben and acting out. Jack would go back to his normal self when he saw the new tensions developing between Ben and me.

  Dead Day # 1,446

  The party turned out to be a huge success. My wife danced, the children played, and our friends laughed. We celebrated the lives we’ve been lucky enough to keep, the life I provided all of them. Take away the death and destruction they’ve experienced over the last several years, and their lives are fuller, richer than they were before. Our group is closer than any family or community has ever been, not just self-sufficient but free of religious and political influences. There is no prejudice, no greed, no sloth, no gluttony… Not here. We share everything and we take care of each other. Our lives are simple and peaceful. We’ve found serenity—our own version of Utopia. And I’m determined to keep it that way. That is why, when Harris came to me the night before the party, I allowed him to take his things, a few days of rations, and leave.

  Harris told me he had to find the beast that killed Margaret, that she’d been the only reason he kept on living and without her, he had no reason to stay. No reason to live but vengeance for her vicious demise. I argued with him at first, but after an hour, I realized his leaving would be for the best. Any ill feelings here could fester and spread like an infection. I can’t allow that to happen. I won’t have what I’ve worked so hard to create be undone by one unfortunate soul. Our community will thrive, strengthen, and grow. My daughter and Ben will see to that. They will e
nsure my legacy. Through their children, and their children’s children, my wife and I will live on. We will be immortalized.

  My only hope is that my wife lives long enough to hold her first grandchild. If she can hang on for six more months, and if what Robert says about what he saw the other night is true, then I’m certain Leo will be showing by then. The sight of Leo’s growing belly, just knowing her grandchild is on the way, will give my wife something to live for. She will want to see, hold, and adore her grandchild as only a grandmother can. She’ll fight for it.

  Crops are strong, but supplies are not holding up as well as I’d hoped. We’ve lost some stored staples to age and pesky vermin that managed to creep, crawl, or slither their way inside the bunker. Tomorrow I release the salvagers and the hunters.

  Population: 21

  Rations: 175 days

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It was barely afternoon and already the summer heat had set in. Rays of light broke through the thin canopy, burning away the morning dew from the thick foliage at our feet. Lincoln and Zoe were out of control for most of the day, and after several hours of hiking, playing, and chasing after an eleven-and thirteen-year-old, I was completely exhausted. Normally I could keep up with them, even get a couple steps ahead, but not after the shitty morning I'd had—and not with a killer hangover. So, when we came across the shade of a giant willow tree at the edge of a field, it was too inviting to pass up.

  “I need a break. Stay close.”

  Squeals of delight followed as Lincoln and Zoe scaled the trunk of the tree and clambered up among the drooping branches.

  “Is this close enough?” Zoe said as she hung upside down from the closest branch, her long red hair brushing the top of my head.

  I gave her fiery strands a couple tugs. “Perfect. Just be careful not to fall.”

  “Leo, why were you in the river this morning?” Lincoln carefully lowered himself down from the opposite branch, the fair skin on his cheeks already a little pink from the sun.

  I lazed in the grass, watching the little monkeys swing and sway above me while trying to figure out how not to lie to my little brother.

  “The bunker felt too hot this morning and I needed to cool off.”

  Lincoln smiled. “More like freeze—your lips were blue.”

  “Guess I stayed out there too long.” I closed my eyes.

  “Jack scared me.”

  “Linc, he scared me, too.”

  Zoe giggled. I opened my eyes and watched as she pulled herself up to a sitting position, straddling the branch. “Jack likes you. Jack and Leo sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love, then comes marriage…”

  I quickly got to my feet. “Hey, Zoe, you’re the one sitting in a tree with Linc.”

  I’d never seen two kids move so fast. They hit the ground with a grunt and ran while vocalizing the gross out factor of my implied statement.

  Lockdown had kept them trapped indoors for days without much release, but I managed to expel the rest of their pent-up energy as I herded them down the mountainside. We arrived at the bunker just in time for them to replenish their spent calories with lunch.

  As I shooed the two little monkeys through the courtyard, my mother stepped up to stretch her arm across my shoulders. Her arm felt too light. “Sweetheart, you look terrible. Are you feeling all right?” Her breath smelled of fresh onions.

  “Too much scotch, I think.” I wrapped an arm around her delicate waist and rested my head against her. The blade of her shoulder dug sharply into my temple. Tiny white spots impeded my vision. “I’m going to go lie down.”

  She gave me a gentle shake that made my head think it was on an amusement park ride. My stomach followed along with a painful hiccup.

  “That’s probably a good idea. You feel a little hot. Duncan’s inside. Why don’t you see if he can scrounge you up a couple aspirin? And I’ll bring you something to eat in a bit.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  In the distance, I spotted Ben and my father strolling in from the fields. Ben’s shoulders were slumped. As the corners of his mouth turned down, he furiously rubbed the scar on his neck. He looked miserable. The constant movement of my father’s mouth and hands told me he was making an effort to console Ben. There’s no way their talking about that. I can’t face them right now anyway.

  Before they saw me, I ducked around to the side door.

  The tunnels were dim and cool at a constant sixty-two degrees, which helped to slow the buzzing drill in my head. I made my way down the grey tunnel. Grey concrete block, with grey mortar, grey cement, and silver steel made up the majority of the second level.

  “Leo, dear, is that you?” The familiar sound of Tilly’s honeyed voice echoed through the hall behind me.

  I stopped walking and waited for her to catch up. Tilly Mason used to be my high school track coach, one of the bravest, most determined women I knew. I idolized her then. But not anymore, not since she stopped running. She barely went outside and never past the courtyard gates. When the world ended, so did Tilly’s sight.

  A year into our life here, her supply of contacts ran out. Six months later, her glasses were broken in a fight with a starving hunter. Without prescription glasses or contacts, Tilly had to rely on a small assortment of generic reading glasses that I managed to salvage. None were strong enough for her severe lack of vision. Fear of getting lost or not seeing a snake in the leaves kept her trapped inside, cooking and cleaning. It also made her depressed.

  Tilly reached for my hands. Hers were warm, creamy as caramel, and tough. “Did you get a good run in today? Oh, how I miss seeing you run.”

  Giving her hands a squeeze, I brought my face close to hers so she could see my smile. She had a few more lines around her eyes and mouth these days. “Yeah, I got in a good workout. You should run with me some time. I could guide you, you know.”

  Tilly shook her head, her deep brown eyes widening to their limits. “Oh, no, that would be far too dangerous. I’m noisy and clumsy without my vision. If there was trouble, I’d just weigh you down. We can’t risk that. But I would love it if you would braid my hair for me.”

  “Of course, Tilly, but right now I really need a nap. I’ll come find you in a couple hours.”

  Tilly turned, sliding her hands along the wall in the direction of the mess hall, where she was probably prepping lunch. “Thanks, sweetie.”

  I never looked for Duncan, deciding I deserved the pain, and headed straight for the semi-comfort of my alcove. I dropped my pack and sat down to remove my boots, choosing to ignore the folded piece of paper and honeysuckles that were tucked neatly between my pillows. Once I’d stripped down to just a T-shirt and undies, I pushed the note and the flowers aside and slipped under my favorite red cashmere throw—one of the few luxury items I managed to hang on to.

  While my body rested, my mind stayed on high alert, leaving one feeling somewhat detached from the other. The sounds of others passing by reached me in my dreams. I heard Ben whisper my name and felt his hand ghost over my arm, but my body never fully woke. Even with the mouth-watering scent of ripe berries and roasted meat tempting my nose and stomach, I didn’t stir. I tried to reach out to thank my mother for the plate she left, but my arms were too heavy to move.

  I’d just drifted into a dream where Lincoln’s nightmare man shadowed me through the woods on a rainy evening, but then a sharp slap on my thigh startled me awake.

  “Get dressed.” My father kept his voice soft, but when I sat up, his red eyes and white brows were narrowed into a painfully scary scowl.

  “Why? Something wrong?” Breaking away from his glare, I set my sights on the cot-side table and plucked a berry from the plate. Mmm… Perfectly ripe.

  Regardless of my father’s mood or mission, I wasn’t about to let a good meal go to waste; room service was such a rare indulgence. I adjusted my position, pulled the entire tray to my lap, and dug in to the cold, fire-roasted rabbit, stewed carrots and tomatoes and squash with a side of slice
d apples and berries. The mug of tea my mother left tasted bitter, but no one ever complained.

  My father allowed me a few mouthfuls before he snatched the plate from my lap. “We need to talk. Now.”

  I knew he’d be upset when he found out about my unapproved hike with the kids, but this was a tad ridiculous. You don’t take food out of my mouth.

  “So talk.” I reached out in an attempt to pull the plate back. He jerked it away, causing some of my meal to land on the concrete floor. Then my father moved down the tunnel, heading toward the exit that led to the cave.

  “Not here. Come with me and I’ll return this to you,” he said over his shoulder.

  Seeing food go to waste always pissed me off. Add an unsatisfied stomach into the mix and I was on the verge of homicide. It didn’t matter that he was my father, his bad behavior was inexcusable and I had no intention of backing down. “You’re cleaning that up!”

  My father snapped his head around and practically growled. I flipped the blanket off and popped to my feet. I threw on a sweatshirt and slipped into jeans and a pair of boots without bothering to look for socks, then took off after him.

  The hinges on the steel door cried in rebellion as I slammed into it at full speed a fraction of a second after my father had done the exact same thing, sending the door crashing against the stone wall for a second time. The smash of the door and the sound of crumbling rock ricocheted throughout the cave. My father whipped around to face me, jerking his thumb to the right to direct me outside. I stormed past him knowing he wanted privacy for whatever fit he planned to throw.

  It was close to dusk, and the sky had turned a purplish shade of pink as the sun dipped slowly behind towering pines. I stomped downriver to where the riverbed turned sharply, about a half-mile behind the cave opening, an isolated location with plenty of mountainside and dense forest to help absorb whatever screaming would take place. When we first moved into the bunker, I’d secretly followed my parents and Duncan here on several occasions. This was where they came to discuss all their painful decisions relating to the survival of our community.