Fear of the Dead

by Mortimer Jackson

  She panicked. She forced the steering wheel to her left, missing the infected by just mere centimeters. The Corolla spun uncontrollably, and by the time she saw a red bricked wall in front of her, it was too late to change course. The bumper smashed hard, immediately crumbling the hood of her car. The infected dropped from the door, thrown by the momentum of the crash. Vanessa’s head smacked against the leather tiller, spawning flashes of light in her vision. A pain in her chest forced a rough cough. On top of air and saliva, she let out blood.

  The airbags never deployed. As a result her head had felt as though it were about to come clean off.

  There were more of them now. At least from what she could see in the side mirrors. Was it three? Four? Vanessa couldn’t tell. Their pictures all blurred together. Everything blurred together. Her head felt wet, and she suddenly had trouble keeping her eyes open.

  She shut her door and put the gear on reverse.

  It didn’t move.

  The infected were closing in now. Their frames getting larger. And as if her Corolla had developed a sense of humor, her side mirror was sure to remind her that all objects were closer than they appeared.

  She wasn’t driving anywhere. Not anymore. Of that she was certain. Mustering what little will she had left, Vanessa quickly retreated to the back seat, pen and notebook in hand. She glanced at the time on her car.

  9:27 AM

  I’m sorry.

  9:28 AM

  The infected horde closed in, and by now the woman in the orange dress had joined the fray. As far as Vanessa could discern, that made five in total. Or six.

  Vanessa sat as she was and watched the commotion, any notion of escape far removed from her mind. There was nothing she could do now. No place to go. Fighting would only make the inevitable hurt even more.

  They came in one on each side, banging at the windows while the orange dress mounted on the windshield. A series of disorganized knocks reverberated throughout the car, shaking it side to side.

  Vanessa was scared, though she tried not to be. It wasn’t the way she wanted her life to end.

  She imagined that those that were trying to kill her now might have shared the same feeling at one point in time.

  Most people never get to choose the way they die. Why would she be any different?

  A blood-soaked hand smashed the windshield. Again, it was the woman in the orange dress.

  The impact shook Vanessa’s mind into being. And with the jolt came a sudden epiphany.

  Vanessa took the key from the ignition, and unfurled the cushion in the backseat until she could actually reach the trunk. Hurrying, Vanessa climbed inside the opening, her notebook and pen still wavering in her hands. She used the remote on her key to open the trunk, and leapt out just as soon as it popped.

  Vanessa was weak, but even so she’d been able to sprint. The infected behind her screamed, and suddenly she could feel their feet storming towards her.

  Vanessa kept her pace. She didn’t look back. Eyes front, chest straight, shoulders high. She ran faster than she’d ever run before. And even though her legs were sore and her heart began to sting, she picked up speed. She pushed herself harder, never allowing herself to lose sight of the possibility that she might actually make it if she tried.

  In time the footsteps behind her dissipated, and she’d almost felt as if she’d won. But then the dizziness came back, and her vision slowly faded. The damp spot on her forehead grew, and it was only when she touched it with her hands and smelled it on her fingers that she realized she was bleeding.

  Vanessa’s run descended into a jog, and then into a weak stagger, until she had trouble simply standing straight. At that point consciousness faded. She closed her eyes, and she fell. And from then on all she could do was hear. The footsteps came back, louder this time since her ears were on the ground. She heard what sounded like gunfire, and immediately went back to the day she killed her husband. This was different though. More explosive. But as far as the noise was concerned, it shared all the same qualities. A loud burst that stretched out in the air, repeating itself in fainter and fainter pitches, finding new levels of sound to carry it through.

  Vanessa opened her eyes, but she saw only darkness. She opened them again, and a hazy image of what looked like a man. He was skinny, and had a tattoo running along his neck. He wore a plain white shirt and jeans. There was a gun in his hand, what to her looked like a rifle. He held it over his shoulder, like something a human would do.

  “She’s alive,” he spoke. Actually spoke. Could an infected really speak? Why hadn’t they before?

  “Get her out of here,” came a woman’s voice, which sounded remarkably like hers, except the tone was raspier, like it came from an older woman.

  “Get me out of here,” she whispered to herself, for no other reason than to compare the two voices. Again, similar, but hers had the inherently higher inflection.

  A second man cropped into view. This one larger than the white shirt. He was black, or dark brown. He lined himself up close enough that she could tell his eyes were a gentle hazel.

  Not red.

  He wasn’t infected, and from what she could barely tell, neither were the other two.

  Was she in heaven then? Was this where all the survivor’s went?

  “She’s there alright. But we have to move her fast.”

  Maybe God really did exist. It made sense, she supposed. For karma to exist, there had to be someone up there pulling the strings, making sure that everyone got what they deserved.

  Before Vanessa closed her eyes, all she could see was white. And at the time it made sense that the only reason she could see anyone other than red-eyed infecteds was because she was already gone. California was lost now, and she was up there with everyone else who had once been alive.

  For a moment Vanessa made herself believe in the possibility, and for as long as she did it brought her peace of mind.

  Grace Minien

  Chapter Five

  Day Four

  Wednesday

  April 23, 2003

  6:21 PM

  Dear Lord,

  What you have shown us today is a miracle, and one I will never forget. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart I thank you. I always knew even in the darkest of hours that one day you would show us a sign; a marker that all is not lost. That there are still others out there; still alive and in need of our help.

  I thank you for bringing this child into our care and into our lives. We have taken her in. Atton laid her down, and I have wrapped a fresh bandage around her head for her injuries. She has suffered a concussion, but she will recover. It was through your gracious mercy alone that she survived the day’s ordeal, and again I thank you most of all for that. Had you not been there to protect her, I don’t know what any of us would have done.

  She had a diary with her when we picked her up. I don’t know if I should have, but I took the liberty of reading some of it. If the diary belongs to her as I suspect it does, then her name is Vanessa Lowen. If what she has written is true, then she has gone through a great deal of hardships. She is scarred. I can see it in her face. Vanessa is still in pain even as she sleeps. There’s a part of her that’s searching for answers; searching for you.

  So many of us left seem to be in need of guidance. But that is to be expected. The last four months have been a trial for all of us who are still on your soil. I see so much trauma in Atton, and in Linus. Even in myself. We have all lost something dear to us. And I know that that is why you brought us all together. So that we may all understand our suffering, and work together to do what is right.

  In the past month since we’ve been together, I’ve done what I can to try and help Atton cope with the problems that are facing him. I only wish the others were a little more forthcoming. Linus keeps to himself more often than I feel is healthy, and Eli is difficult to talk to. Still, I believe that I can help them all, even him. But I’ll start with the girl that you have just now brought into our welcome care
. I will do whatever it is you ask of me dear Lord, to help her, and to make her see your light. All I ask in turn is time, and your heavenly blessing.

  Help us do what’s right dear Lord. Sometimes we might not know what that is, and for that reason we all need to be reminded once in every while. We need to know what it is you will of us. I pray that you help us keep sight of what that is always. Help us, so that we may better serve you.

  In Jesus’ name we pray

  Amen

  6:39 PM

  It’d been three hours since they rescued the girl. She was still unconscious; still fast asleep. After taking care of the demons that were on her tail, Grace and the others had carried her back to the store where they lived, an abandoned Costco located not two blocks away from where the woman had her accident.

  She had the woman laid on a mattress on the floor, same as where most of them slept. With the exception being Linus and Eli, she and Carl and now the young girl had mattress beds on the camping aisle of the store, with enough room to house a few tents and a playground set.

  Her breathing was slow and steady. Healthy, in other words. She touched Vanessa’s neck to feel her pulse. She was still going strong.

  Grace let Vanessa heal while she went to see how Linus was doing. It was close to seven at night, which meant that the light in the store was quickly fading. They wouldn’t have much light left to go on.

  Ever since the breakout four months ago, there had been no running electricity to power California let alone the store that they found themselves in now. When it was dark outside, it was even darker inside. When it was day out, there was light amidst shadows.

  But not now. Now it was getting harder and harder to see. Grace’s eyes weren’t what they used to be when she was young, and so she had to feel the sides in order to be certain of where she was headed. But nevertheless, she was still able enough to see in order to rescind the need for a flashlight, which she kept in her pocket regardless.

  Grace Minien was 65, though being of oriental persuasion both in blood and dietary lifestyle, she had aged well enough to make people think she was still in her early forties.

  Grace stepped inside the office, where Linus toggled with the radio he’d taken from a military base three weeks ago. The machine blew static, and Linus kept on changing the frequency.

  Out of everything in the store, the radio was one of the few electronically devices that they’d kept working since it ran on a separate power generator, which itself operated on a handful of batteries that Costco kept in ample supply. Grace didn’t know what the batteries were called, but they were big, and box-shaped. And they seemed to last a good while despite the fact that Linus would usually run them 24-7.

  The office was dark, but the lamp on his table was both close and bright enough to reveal the dilation in his eyes.

  “Linus, you okay?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m fine.”

  He wasn’t, which was obvious. Though much less so was knowing the right thing to say.

  “Do you want some tea?”

  He stopped to consider it, then nodded.

  “Sure. A bit of tea would help.”

  Grace returned to the kitchen, where a grill awaited past the rows of unattended cash registers and fast food tables. What she and the others used for cooking since their stay was an old-fashioned barbecue grill which ran entirely on charcoal. Grace used it now to boil up a fresh pot of water, and poured the end product into two separate cups with vanilla flavored tea bags. Once the hot beverage was ready, she returned to Linus.

  “Thank you,” he said, and took one of the two cups in her hands, the one that was closest his way. Grace took the chair behind the desk opposite of Linus. Curled in between her fingers were two paper coasters. She gave Linus one. He took it and smiled.

  “You think the guy who owns this desk is going to worry about ring stains?”

  “One doesn’t need a reason to practice good habits.”

  “I suppose not.” He set the tea on the coaster.

  “No luck?” she asked, casting her gaze on the radio.

  “You could say that. But truth be told, I don’t know if there’s even anyone left out there to be sending and receiving messages anyhow.”

  “Don’t give up. We found a woman today after all this time. There are more people living out there. We just have to give it a chance.”

  Linus took a cautious sip from his cup, then blinked awake.

  “Yeah. You’re probably right. In any case you should probably get some sleep.”

  “Me?” she scoffed. “You look much more exhausted than me.”

  “Why? My eyes are red?”

  “Very,” she said, though upon consideration she wondered if they were more than simple marks of fatigue. Had he been crying?

  “I suppose in that case I really should catch some shut eye.”

  There was a roll-up bed on the corner of the office space. Linus had been living here ever since they arrived. He kept himself secluded, and focused entirely on that radio of his, seldom stepping out save for reasons of necessity, and to stretch his legs. It wasn’t healthy living the way he did, which was why Grace had frequently invited him outside whenever a valid reason came her way. She wanted to help him but without ever coming across as imposing.

  Lately, her method of getting him out of his room centered around preparing dinner. Linus was a chef by profession, though nowadays he’d been much too preoccupied to do any cooking on his own. What Linus needed from time to time was a distraction. And it was for that reason that for nearly a week now, she would ask Linus to help her out in the kitchen.

  “Would you mind helping me prepare dinner tonight?” she asked, the same as she’d gotten used to asking. “I don’t know what I should make.”

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  There was a trace of hesitation in his voice. But Linus was glad to help. He was a good man. As private as he was, he was always there to offer help whenever help was needed.

  Since electricity was gone, there was no refrigeration in the store. Without refrigeration, there was little to make most of what was in the store last their due date, let alone for four months after the fact. By the time Grace and the others had found the store, most of its stock of organic food had already gone bad, though the meat more so than the rest. The dairy didn’t fare much better, though diary was never meant to last long in the first place. The eggs and the juices sharing the same glass closets were better preserved by the fact that they were kept inside enclosed, refrigeration units. Air didn’t vent in or out, so what little cold was in when the power went out saw the food through. More so with the salads and fruits, which had its own freezer.

  Grace used to shop in Costco back in the 1980s, when she had a family to support. Today it seemed a lifetime ago. She remembered dreading going inside the vegetable aisle, complaining about the shot of cold air whenever she went inside the freezer.

  The room was warm now, though faint traces of its original temperature still loomed in the air. Grace grabbed a packet of assorted lettuces, pre-cut, and packed with a bag of croutons. She and Linus closed the door, keeping the room sealed and in so doing the food.

  They returned to the kitchen and prepared a light spaghetti dinner with salad on the side.

  Eli and Atton were still out, which meant that for the time being it was just her, Linus, and the unconscious Vanessa. They ate on the red and white fast-food table in the food court, congratulating one another for the well-made meal.

  “How long do you think they’ll be out?” Grace asked. “It’s getting awful dark.”

  Linus wasn’t worried, and his response said only as much.

  “They’re fine. They’ve been out longer than this before. Since it’s already night outside they’ll probably find a place to crash. I expect they’ll show up sometime tomorrow morning. Maybe even later. There’s no need to be concerned. They can take care of themselves.”

  Linus was right, and deep inside Grace knew
it. It wasn’t uncommon for them to be gone a day. But she still didn’t like it when the boys went out and put their lives at such senseless risk. Anytime anyone left the store, Grace was always predisposed to worrying. It was a dangerous world out there. That was what she used to tell her son.

  America might seem a safe place, but you can never be too careful.

  Now it was more true than ever.

  Nonetheless, boys were boys, as they always said. And like her son, both Eli and Atton did whatever they wanted to do regardless of what she had to say. In Tatsuki’s case, that meant moving out before she’d wanted him to, and living on his own, becoming his own man. In the case of Eli and Atton, it was enjoying a world that was filled with property, and no one left to claim them.

  They were scavengers. Thieves.

  “It isn’t right what they do.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “They’re going out there and taking things that don’t belong to them.”

  Linus cocked his brow.

  “So are we,” he said pointing his eyes at the food, and then the rest of the store itself.

  “It isn’t the same. We only take the things we need. We don’t indulge in deliberate robbing.”

  “They’re not robbing anyone,” Linus replied. “And besides, it would do us some good to have a few people out there. They could find more survivors. Maybe even someone who knows what’s going on.”

  The point couldn’t be denied. Ever since the infection struck California, there had been no effective means of communicating with the outside world, though only because as far as they could tell there’d been no outside world left. The entire state was overrun.

  Grace remembered how it was back then. And she knew full well how it was today, confused all-the-same as the day the infection started. Going by with no knowledge of what was going on in the world around them, or what had happened to their own government.