Linus was gone now. And there was no telling when, if, he would ever return.
12:19 PM
Dear Lord,
Four months ago my grandsons were with me when we were fleeing the city. Tatsuki…my son, and his wife were having their anniversary in Yokohama. He left his children, Ken and Samuel, with me while they were gone. Ken was eight. Samuel was five.
They were good kids.
When the demons came was the day that Tatsuki and Miriam were supposed to return from their trip. Their plane was supposed to land at three. The kids and I waited for them at home. I turned on the news, and that was when I heard about what happened in Sacramento. People in the news said that the demons were spreading fast, and that they didn’t know why or how. I was worried, so I called Tatsuki’s phone. He never picked up. I called the airport, to make sure that his plane would still come back on time.
No one answered.
I turned on the news, and an evacuation had already started. The military was taking people to…wherever they were taking them. There was a map up on the television, with a man talking over it like it was the weather forecast. He said that the red zones on the map were unsafe for travel; infected. The circle went all around the center of California, and LAX was in the orange zone.
The newsman told us that we had to leave. So I did. I took the children with me, and I drove. And while we were on the road I tried to call my son again. He didn’t pick up. He never picked up. And that was when I started to cry.
The kids kept on asking me what was going on. Where was mom and dad. They knew as much as I did, but I didn’t want to tell them that. I was so worried that my mind started going ten places at once. I was so worried that I…I blanked from the road. And before I could see it, a truck was headed in front of my car.
There was too little time to react. We crashed, and the children…
I killed what I had left of my son.
Any time that someone leaves the store, a part of me goes back to that day. Even if they’re only gone for a few seconds, I never know for sure how long they’re going to be out. Eli and Atton have been gone for two days. No. Three. And now Linus.
For all my life I’ve done my best to do right by you. But I don’t know if I can do it any longer. You tell us that everything that happens is a part of your will; that nothing in life happens without your permission. If so, then why is it that everyone I have ever taken care of leaves without ever saying goodbye?
If you have the answer, I would like to know.
In Jesus’ name I pray,
Amen.
2:26 PM
Exactly as she’d gotten so used to doing since her stay, Grace sat outside and watched the city while time passed her by. Grace sunk in her chair, and feelings of emotional distress wore on her face. She looked up at the sky in a resigned gaze.
“You should have told me.”
The sky said nothing in return. It remained as it was and had always been; faceless, omnipotent, and inhuman.
Where was God now?
Grace heard Vanessa enter the roof before she opened the door.
“Grace, are you alright?”
Vanessa knelt beside her.
She shook, and sighed. As she reflected more on more on Linus’ absence, the conversation she had with him yesterday came and never went away. The one where he mentioned what would have been his reason for leaving.
“I should have listened to him.”
“You couldn’t have known he would go,” Vanessa replied.
It wasn’t true. Linus did say he was going. He suggested it right in front of her face. She saw the sign, and yet she did nothing to dissuade him from going. Now Linus was gone, along with Atton and Eli. That left only her and Vanessa in the store. And for how long?
Their numbers were dwindling. Grace had little left in her to hope for, but she spent her last bit of optimism praying that their numbers wouldn’t taper even more.
“Why don’t you come inside?” Vanessa asked. “It’s getting cold out here.”
It was, wasn’t it? Somehow Grace hadn’t noticed until Vanessa brought it up.
A rush of air passed by, causing her arms to shiver with the wind, and her teeth to clatter. Still, Grace didn’t want to leave.
“I think that I’d like to stay here for a while,” she answered back, retaining her hospitable calm and civility.
“Are you sure?”
Grace looked up, held Vanessa’s hand.
“I’m fine.”
“Well, let me know if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Vanessa went downstairs, giving Grace all the privacy she needed for the moment being. She fell on her knees once again to pray, but she said nothing. Rather than talk to God, Grace kept an air of silence, thought to herself, decided for once to be alone.
5:49 PM
Dusk was falling. After having spent most of the day staring through her binoculars, Grace decided to go back inside before things got any colder. She packed herself to leave when out in the corner of her eye, she caught a shape moving in the distance. Her thoughts leapt immediately to possible survivors. Maybe Atton, Eli, or Linus. Or maybe someone else.
But that wasn’t the case.
Shambling on the street with one leg limping, its shirt drenched in blood, Grace caught sight of a demon clear as day. His head craned up and down, side to side, and he carried what might have been a broken leg, or a twisted ankle. He looked as though on the verge of tripping after every other step, losing his bearings a little when he relied on the injured leg for support.
The demon was ghastly pale. His skin was hard and dry, his dead red eyes were so bereft of humanity that Grace had to wonder if there was really any way he could ever get it back.
It was strange also, to see the demon moving on the street by himself. The others were hiding behind corners somewhere, same as they always did. She couldn’t see them now. Not even their shadows. But Grace knew they were there. And it made her question why the demons, who’d been so organized before, had one of their own moving alone, revealing their presence to anyone who might be watching.
The demons were natural hiders by instinct. And yet this one wasn’t hiding. It was walking out in the open, looking, craning its neck in search for something.
Grace peered closer, magnifying the view on her binoculars to catch whatever it was looking at. The demon’s eyes wandered ceaselessly until it came just a little bit closer, and then narrowed its eyes at Grace.
Grace leapt, gasped as she did away with the binoculars. She backed away from the ledge, effectively removing herself from the demon’s line of sight. Her heart raced, and she remained in place until she felt comfortable enough to leave. Three minutes passed, and Grace dared to peak again.
The demon was still there, though now it had its back turned, and it was walking farther away.
It hadn’t seen her, or else it would have called the others. Instead it went back the same as it would have if it hadn’t found a prey.
The store was safe. She and Vanessa were safe.
6:09 PM
It was a quiet night. For all that Grace and Vanessa had to say to each other last night, now they seemed like complete and utter strangers. Vanessa wrote a few things on her diary. What, Grace couldn’t tell, but was curious to know. Afterwards she began to jog across the store for half an hour dressed in her old track suit.
“What do you guys do for a bath around here?” Vanessa asked once sweat sleeked her skin.
“We usually head up to the roof with a few bottles of water and some soap.”
Vanessa peered at the ceiling window.
“It’s dark out.”
“Too cold to be taking a bath in for sure,” added Grace. “You should probably wait until tomorrow.”
Vanessa agreed.
“Are you interested in dinner?”
“I’m not hungry right now. And if that changes I’ll grab something on my own. There’s really no need to cook.”
“That’s good,” Grace replied. “I’m usually the one that cooks for everyone around here. It’s good to know I can take a break for once.”
“Say, Grace, you mind if I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
She squirmed a bit before she followed through, as if aware that it was a stupid question even before it’d left her lips.
“Do you really believe in heaven?”
Grace paused for a moment. Then, “Yes. Of course. Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s something I’ve been thinking about a bit lately.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. Anyhow, I think I should go change for the time being if I’m not going to shower.” She corrected herself. “Bath.”
“You should go check the clothes we have in here. Maybe there’s something there you’ll like.”
Vanessa turned away and changed. While she was gone, Grace happened to peek inside the young woman’s diary. She wrote in something new, and just like her last entry, this one was missing the time.
Since they were inside a store after all, it occurred to Grace to simply get her a watch from the jewelry aisle. The analog watches in the store were all in tip top condition. Last she checked they worked well enough even now after all this time. All she had to do was tune the mechanical hands to the right hour.
But for the time being, Grace decided to jot the time from her watch above the empty spot where Vanessa would usually write the hour. Afterwards, she lent her eyes to what Vanessa had to say.
8:46 PM
Yesterday I felt like the happiest woman alive. After being surrounded by nothing but walking dead, I got to see two living, breathing human beings. We spent the night in this wonderful warehouse store, where apparently them and the others have been living in for a few weeks now. I never got to see Atton and Eli, the two other survivors.
Still, I got to see Linus, and Grace. And that’s enough to make me feel a little safer. Or at least, it was.
Now I’m not so sure. Earlier today Linus left without saying a word. He snuck out in the middle of the night, and drove away in one of those Costco trucks. Without any way of reaching to him, we’ve got nothing but time to tell us if we’re ever going to see him again. And with three people gone, it’s hard to say who’s in the right here. Who’s in the wrong. Were those three right for leaving? Or are Grace and I right for staying put?
We can’t live in this store forever. That much is for certain. Only question is when do we stay, and when do we leave?
P.S. Grace, if you’re reading this, thank you for jotting the time on my last entry. It helps a lot.
8:48 PM
Grace returned the book back to where she found it, and felt embarrassed at herself for not having listened to her conscience when she had the chance.
Vanessa returned, clad in a pair of blue jeans, brand new track jacket, ankle high socks, and a pair of white Nike tennis shoes.
“What do you think?” she asked, presenting herself to the older woman.
“You look nice,” she replied, then promptly bit her lip. “I’m sorry, if you feel I’ve violated your privacy.”
Vanessa turned to the diary on the floor beside her bed. She shook her head.
“No. Of course not.”
“It wasn’t right of me. And I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Grace, it’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it. Really. In fact,” and she retrieved the diary. “I think you should write something in it too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
“What would I write about?”
Vanessa’s eyes wandered for a bit.
“Anything. Write about yourself. If you can’t think of anything, write about what your life was before. You know, four months ago. Maybe talk about what brought you here.”
Grace toyed with the idea in her head. She realized she’d never written about her life before. She was 67 years old, and with so little of her life left to show for it. Maybe writing something down would have been a good enough way for her to leave her mark; to remind people that she once existed.
“I’d like that.”
9:21 PM
My name is Grace Minien. I am 67 years old. I was born in Japan, in the Akasaka prefect of Tokyo. I didn’t live there, so I was never a citizen. I can speak Japanese, but I’ve only visited my native home two times.
My parents moved to America when I was two months old. My father owned a farm along with some family members that had moved in some generations before. We had a home in the central valley of California. But that land was taken away during WWII, when we were relocated by the government. I was four years old when we lived in Tula Lake. When we got out, I was eight. The whole experience taught me a valuable lesson, and one that I think I’ll share with you now.
When we lived in the camps, my mother always told us that the best thing for us to do was to stay together. It sounded like something we would do once we got there. But we didn’t.
We were kept inside with other families. Other people our own age. Once we left our homes we stopped sharing the same roof, and we spent more time with other people our age, and even though mother tried to keep us all together, as weeks passed by we simply spent less and less time together as a family. We didn’t eat together. We didn’t talk to each other. When the camps shut down four years after, everything changed. We’d lived in the same camp for four years, and in all that time we spent so little of our days together. When we finally got out, my parents felt like strangers to me. And amidst it all we were supposed to go home together, act like nothing had ever happened and become a family again. The government told us it was important. We heard it in person, and we heard it again over the radio.
My father would never talk about it, but I knew he resented them. He resented being told by them of all people, that he should stay with his family. Everything he had was gone. His property was sold by the federal government. His land was gone. And to make things worse, he had the responsibility of taking care of a family he no longer loved.
When he found work at a bread factory, my father came to spend less time with my mother and me. He worked overtime on more than several nights. And when he returned late, he would be in no mood to talk.
Mother never complained. It was never in our way to do so. But sometimes I would hear her crying inside her room.
That was how we lived, until one day my father disappeared. He went to work like it was any other day, but he never came back.
In the end, my mother and I were the only ones left. We took care of one another. She supported me as a child, and I supported her as an adult. I took care of her until the day she died. When that happened, I was alone for the longest time in my life.
9:38 PM
Memories came flooding back. Not only of her parents, but of her son. 18 year old Tatsuki Minien, who left for college in Arizona one day, and only ever came back during the holidays. If ever.
A moment of ponderance inspired the final words of her entry.
Life is as fleeting as the people we meet.
Chapter Eight
Day Seven
Saturday
April 26, 2003
12:08 AM
Rumbling, smashing, pounding. All around her, Grace was surrounded by noises beyond her ability to comprehend. She saw a beam of light shine in between her eyes, and heard a voice call her name.
“Grace.”
She asked herself who it was, and did what she could to make sense of what was going on around her. It was raining outside. Hard. There must have been a storm, because after every second thunder struck, pummeling her ears with noises and shockwaves. She prayed for it to stop, or at the very least she tried to ignore what was going on. But every pound came louder and closer, making ignorance that much more difficult to presume.
“Grace,” it called again.
Who was it? Now she had to know.
“Grace!”
The t
ired woman opened her eyes, and saw Vanessa Lowen hovering over her with a flashlight. Her entire face was painted with fear. A cold chill shot down Grace’s spine, throwing her heart off balance.
“Grace, wake up!”
“What’s going on?” she asked, though the answer came only shortly thereafter. The rain outside wasn’t rain. The hard thrashing on the walls, more than thunder. They were followed by hollow moans. And they were growing louder.
Vanessa grabbed Grace by the shirt, and raised her face directly to hers.
“We have to leave.”
It was only then that her sense of urgency fully kicked in. Grace rejuvenated, leapt to her feet. Vanessa grabbed her by the hand, tightened to the point of pinching. Grace didn’t complain. There were so many lingering questions in her mind it was difficult to see which took priority.
“Where are they coming from?”
Vanessa shined her flashlight at the roof, where from the ceiling windows, pale hands thumped repeatedly against the layered glass. Men, women, and children, with red demonic eyes watering with hunger.
“How is this happening?”
Fear of the Dead Page 7