Glory (Book 2)

by Michael McManamon

  "Julie," he said. "It's me."

  The door opened. Julie was standing there. He could see concern on her face underneath the moonlight.

  "Are you okay?" she asked.

  Scooter nodded his head.

  "What about the woman? Did she hurt you?"

  "No," he said. "She didn't hurt me. Sheattacked me. But she didn't hurt me."

  He pointed over to where she was lying on the ground. A big pool of blood had already begun to spread underneath her.

  Julie looked. Then she turned back to him.

  "Come inside," she said.

  She reached out her hand and grabbed his shoulder. She led him in. Scooter followed, forgetting all about the clothes that he had gone to get.

  Julie took one more look at the woman lying on the ground outside and shut the door.

  Day 3

  Chapter 1

  Marianne laid with her head against her arm. She was in the playhouse and the sun had started to shine through the tiny window. A beam of light tickled her face.

  She woke up and looked around. She knew where she was. And that she had survived the night. A smile came to her face.

  She sat up and stretched.

  She was surprised about how good she felt. After all, she had been sleeping in a little curled ball on the floor of a playhouse.

  She made her way over to the window. Her legs scraped against the tiny rocks again as she went. She looked outside.

  She could see the park much better now. In the light, it didn't seem so frightening. It remained littered with dead bodies (most of which were children). But she had seen enough death yesterday to prepare her for such a thing. Not that it was nice to see. Only that she wasn't much shocked by it anymore.

  She continued to look around. Not at the bodies. She was looking for one ofthem. One of thosethings. She remembered the screams yesterday. They had gone long into the night.

  None were in sight.

  She continued to look and tried to listen.

  Nothing.

  She took a deep breath and decided that it was time to leave. She couldn't spend the whole day in the playhouse. She had to get moving. She had to look for other survivors, for help.

  If they existed.

  She grabbed her purse and put it over her arm. Then she began to inch her way toward the ladder, the gravel scratching underneath her once more.

  Before she got there, she changed her mind.

  She looked over to the slide.That's where she wanted to go. That's what she wanted to use. She wasn't sure why.

  She passed by the little window and got to the top of the slide. She stuck her legs out over the edge.

  "What am I doing?" she asked herself. She didn't bother with an answer.

  Marianne pushed herself further and further onto the slide. She looked down the length of it. It went straight down. No bumps, no turns.

  It ended up at a ditch in the ground where hundreds of little feet must have stomped.

  Her feet would be next.

  She smiled, feeling that this was going to be fun.

  Marianne raised her head to look at the sky. The sky was blue with bright white clouds. A beautiful day.Picturesque.

  She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. The air was wonderful too.

  "On the count of three."

  She started to count. As she did, she felt herself getting excited. It seemed like such a silly thing for her to do, but she couldn't help it.

  Once she reached three, she pushed herself from the edge. For the second it took her to get down, her hair blew back over her shoulders, the wind pressed against her face. She let out a little scream of delight.

  When she got to the bottom, she planted into her feet into the ditch and came to a stop.

  She started to laugh.It had been so much fun!

  She thought about going again, sure that she could spend the next few hours here. Of course, it probably wasn't the best idea. She needed to find food and water. She had to keep quiet, stay out of sight.

  But the slide…

  She stood up and looked back at it. It shone underneath the early morning sun.

  Just once more.

  She started to move back toward the ladder.

  Though, as she did, Marianne saw something out of the corner of her eye. A little girl. She was lying underneath the playhouse.

  Marianne hadn't seen her last night. Yet today, there she was. Her long blonde braids were scattered over her face. Her pretty blue dress had been torn and was covered in blood. Part of her arm had been torn off.

  Marianne looked back at the slide.

  She wouldn't go down it again. Not with the little girl lying there.

  "I'm sorry," she said to the slide. "You were a lot of fun. Thank you for that."

  She smiled at the slide, then turned away from it. She slung her purse further up over her shoulder and, without looking back, walked away.

  Chapter 2

  John and Alice had spent another night in the basement. John raised his head off of the table and looked at his wife. She hadn't moved.

  "Alice," he said.

  He knew that his wife wasn't going to respond, but he had to keep trying. He reached out and grabbed her hand. He felt a sharp pain run through his body as he did. He supposed that sleeping a couple of nights on the workbench would do that to him. Even if he fell asleep on his nice chair upstairs, he usually got a sore neck.

  Oh, his nice chair...

  He wished the he was upstairs now, sitting on it, reading a book. Except he couldn't leave his wife alone downstairs.

  He wasn't all that worried about the crazy people anymore. He hadn't heard them for a while. Maybe once or twice yesterday. That was about all. And none had come into the house. He thought that he'd be safe so long as he kept out of their sight.

  But, no, he wouldn't leave his wife.

  "Alice," he tried again.

  Nothing.

  John moved his neck and arms around to stretch them. After that didn't work, he tried to massage them. His fingers pressed against his sore muscles and he winced at the pain.

  He stood up. Along with the pain, his whole body felt groggy. Which was strange. John usually had no trouble getting up in the morning. Actually, he loved it. He was one of those get-up-early types of people. Then again, he had fallen asleep on a workbench, so he couldn't be too surprised.

  He stretched out once more, then turned back to his wife. He placed his hand on her shoulder.

  "Alice," he said. "Come on."

  She kept still.

  He lowered his head and let out a sigh.

  He knew that his wife had been up all night.She wouldn't have slept, not sitting up like that. And he knew that she needed to. He wasn't sure if people could die from lack of sleep, but he wasn't willing to find out with his wife.

  "Alice," he said once more. "Listen to me. You've got to move."

  His wife didn't seem to notice. Though that didn't matter to him anymore. He needed to get her moving.He had to get her into bed.

  "Come on, Alice." Her shook her.

  Again, she didn't respond.

  John thought more about their bed upstairs. She'd be comfortable there. She'd be warm. And he was pretty certain she'd be safe.

  "Let's go!"

  He placed his hand under her elbows and tried to lift her up. She felt stuck to the chair.

  "Alice," he pleaded. "Comeon!"

  He wrapped his arms around her and tried once more.

  This time, she moved. She lifted up and got her to her feet. John was surprised, but he wasn't going to stop to wonder about it. He encouraged her.

  "Great job, Alice. Wonderful!" He took his arms out from around her. At first, he thought that she might fall to the ground as soon as he let go, but she just stood there. He smiled. "Come on."

  He placed his hand underneath her elbow and led her toward the staircase. She did as he wanted.

  "Good work!" As he spoke, he felt like he was talking to a baby. Though
, in a sense, that's what his wife had become. "Keep going!"

  He brought his wife closer toward the stairs. She took little steps that scraped along the floor. It wasn't long before they arrived.

  John looked upstairs and could see light shining out from underneath the door. "We're almost there, Alice. Just a little bit more."

  He got onto the first step and tried to guide her onto them. She took a step forward. And then another one. But stopped after that.

  "Come on, Alice," he said. "We're almost there!"

  She wouldn't budge.

  He looked back up the stairs. It wasn't the shortest staircase, but it also wasn't that all that long. He knew that his wife would be able to do it. Even in this stupor.

  Except she wouldn't move.

  "Alice, please!"

  He turned back and glanced into her eyes. In them, he thought he saw fear - worse than he had ever seen before.

  "It's okay," he said. He reached down and put his arm around her shoulders."Everything up there is fine. They're all gone. You've nothing to worry about."

  He could feel her trembling. Her breathing was starting to get more frantic as well.

  "It's okay," he said again. "Really. I was up there yesterday. We'll be safe."

  He took his arm from his wife and tried to lead her onto the stairs once more. She didn't move. He could tell that her fear was getting worse.

  John didn't know what to do. He didn't want to keep her in the basement.It might be safer down here, but it couldn't be healthy. She'd die. Especially if she didn't snap out of it. He couldn't have that. He wanted to get her into bed.

  Though he also didn't want to frighten her to death. He hated her being worried. And this was bad. He couldsee her shaking now. Her teeth had started to clank together as well.

  It wouldn't work. She wouldn't go up there.

  He gave up.

  "I'm sorry," he said. He wrapped his arm around her again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

  He led her back to the workbench. As they went, her trembling started to ease, her breathing went back to normal. He sat her down in the seat.

  "I'm so sorry."

  John felt horrible for putting her through that, even though he hadn't known that she was going to react that way. He had just wanted to make things more comfortable for her.

  It hadn't worked.

  He grabbed her hand. It had stopped trembling and felt as it had before. She had gone back to staring at the wall as well.Beyond it.

  "I know what I'll do," he said after a moment. "I'll go up and get you some blankets and pillows. I can make a bed for you over there on the floor."

  He hoped for a smile or some kind of recognition of his idea, but again there was nothing. Just that blank stare.

  "I'll be back in a bit," he said. He couldn't worry about that look of hers. He needed her to get some sleep. And for that he had to make her a bed.

  He took his hand from his wife's and stood up. Then he hurried back to the staircase and went upstairs.

  Chapter 3

  John opened the door and stepped into the hallway. He hated leaving his wife in the basement, but she hadn't given him any choice. She wasn't going to move anywhere. Or, at least, nowhere upstairs.The fear in her eyes...

  He walked to the staircase that led up to the top floor of the house. He was tired and his body ached, but he had to deal with it. He needed to make his wife a bed. He placed his hand on the railing and began to climb.

  By the time John made it to the top, he was out of breath. He took a moment before heading to the master bedroom. A few deep breaths, then he went on his way.

  As he stepped into the bedroom, he stared at the bed.Just a quick nap, he thought. All he had to do was pull the blanket over him and drift off. Simple enough.

  But his wife was alone downstairs. He couldn't leave her any longer than necessary. He had to get the blankets, bring them down, and make a bed. Once he got his wife into it, he could sleep. It was too back that it was going to be on the hard floor.

  That thought bothered him. He didn't want his wife to sleep on the ground.But what else could he do? She wouldn't come up.

  He shook his head and made his way over to the bed. He grabbed at the blanket and sheets. They were tucked tightly underneath the mattress - something that his wife had done for the past 40 years.

  It was also something that he could't stand.Tucking in the sheets. He never understood why it was important since they messed the sheets up every time they got into bed. He had even asked her to stop doing it, but she hadn't listened.

  Of course, he could have always just made the bed himself, then he wouldn't have had to worry about it. Except he didn't like making the bed. Actually, hehated it.

  So, sorry, the sheets were tucked.

  He walked over to the side of the bed and pulled them free. He threw them onto the floor and looked at them.

  That's what he was going to have his wife sleep on?

  It bothered him again. It didn't look like a bed. And it definitely didn't look comfortable. He knew that his wife deserved something better than this. Somethingmore. She was in shock. She was suffering. She couldn't lie on the floor, wrapped in blankets.

  John looked back at the bed. At the mattress. It was queen sized. Big.Too big.They had bought it a few years ago. After 35 years of using another mattress they had finally decided to spring for a new one. It had been a great purchase. John and his wife had loved it.But now? It just looked huge.

  Could he bring it downstairs?

  John walked over to it and tried to lift a corner. It was heavy. He tried again. This time he was able to lift it up further. He repositioned himself to help further. It was still difficult.

  John looked at the sheets on the floor again. They weren't good enough.

  Try again.

  Instead of lifting the mattress, John decided to push it off of the bed. He crouched down and leaned against the edge. He readied himself, steadied his feet. Then he pushed.

  The bed moved. Only a little.This thing was big!

  He pushed again. And again.

  The bed moved further each time. He had to keep repositioning himself, had to keep taking little breaks. But, eventually, the mattress came off the edge of the box spring and tilted onto the floor.

  John landed upon the top of the box spring. His arms splayed out before him. He was spent.

  That had been hard!

  He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. When he opened them, he knew that the hard part had yet to come.He'd need to get it downstairs.

  Just like he had gotten it off of the bed, John knew that he'd have to push it there.Prop it up on its side and slide it. They had hardwood floors, so that would help.

  He got off of the bed, feeling a little bit better now, a little more refreshed, and made his way over to the side of the mattress. It wasn't going to be easy to get up into position, but he had to do it if he wanted to get it downstairs. He slipped his hands underneath the mattress.

  "You can do it," he told himself. "You can!"

  He tried to stand, the mattress in his hands.

  It moved slightly. Then a little more. He could feel himself getting excited.It was working!

  But, before long, the mattress slipped from his fingers and came crashing down. It slammed into his knees and pushed him back a little bit.

  "Damn!" he said.

  He looked down at the mattress. Themassivemattress. He wasn't ready to give up. He didn't think that he'd ever be. It wasn't an option. He had to get the mattress downstairs. No question about it.

  He bent down again and placed his hands under the mattress once more.

  "Okay, now I need to think about this."

  He did. He thought of all the possible ways that he could get the mattress up. Several came to mind. But he didn't feel too confident about any of them. Most required brute strength. And, though he didn't like to admit it, he didn't have a lot of that anymore.

  "All right," he finally said. "
I've got it."

  John kept bent down and pressed his hands a little further underneath the mattress. Then a little further still.

  He stopped, took a few more deep breaths, and lifted.

  The mattress didn't get up very far, but it was enough for John to scurry underneath. The mattress came down on his head and shoulder. It didn't crush him. And that was good.

  "Okay," he said again. "Keep going."

  He pushed a few more times and slid himself further and further underneath the mattress. It continued to rest against him.

  Then he eventually got the mattress to stand up on its side. John wanted to cheer, but stopped himself. It felt strange enough talking to himself. Cheering would be that much more bizarre.

  He stood up and put his hand on the top of the mattress to keep it balanced. He walked to the back of it and pushed. The mattress was still heavy. And it was hard to get going. But the mattress slid forward. He was able to push it out the door and down the hall.

  He really felt like cheering now.This was going to work!

  When John came to the top of the stairs, he knew that he wasn't going to be able to guide it down them. He only had one choice: to push it.

  He didn't know if it was going to damage anything.Though, if it did, what did that really matter? The world had been destroyed. Who cared if some more things in his house were as well?

  Because the hallway was narrow, John had to bend the mattress a little to get it to point down the stairs. He had to push a little bit harder, bend it a little bit more. But he was able to get it moving.

  As soon as it broke loose from the wall, it started to slide. John watched it go. There was a big smile on his face. Something about this made him feel like a little kid. He watched the mattress slide down the stairs. It bounced against each one of them before slamming into a small table at the bottom. There was a vase on top of it that smashed onto the floor.

  "Woo-hoo!" John screamed. He no longer cared about feeling weird. He was excited about his accomplishment. Plus, it had been fun.

  John hurried down after the mattress. Well, as fast as he could go. It was more of a waddle as he made his way carefully down the stairs.