The Decline

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The Decline Page 21

by Jessulat, Christopher


  It was past midday now, and progress was sluggish. Though they had caught sight of a handful of ghouls in the streets, they had been too far to bother engaging. As each intersection was passed, the group grew more restless. Erik could sense the rest of the civilians – a ragtag bunch – had little experience outside the walls. Their nervous energy was contagious, arcing between them as they were relegated to boredom each time the soldiers discussed their course.

  It was obvious to Erik they had little hope of tracking the deserters. Not that it was meant as a scathing criticism; the circumstances of their pursuit were simply far from ideal.

  Barring a lucky break, this hunt would prove fruitless.

  Maybe it was for the best.

  Erik shuddered to think of how the confrontation would play out.

  Quinn was a man who would do anything for the greater good, as he saw it.

  The column came to a halt again near the crest of a hill. As the soldiers convened, several of the civilians took the moment to sit and soak in the sun’s warmth.

  After a few moments, the soldiers had everyone on their feet and heading down the hill to their left – a sudden change in course.

  ‘What’s down there?’ one of the survivors innocently inquired. He was a middle aged man, rugged looking with a face roughly hewn with stubble. He looked like a tradesman to Erik, stacked together solid, obviously still strong despite the weeks of tight rationing.

  One of the soldiers glowered at him in response. Erik imagined he had somehow taken the question as a slight.

  Hunger put everyone on edge.

  ‘There’s a strip mall down there,’ came a calmer voice, ‘a grocery store. They may have holed up there looking for food or water.’

  He had seen her around the compound before. She was pretty, even if a bit tomboyish, with lively red hair, a pleasant face with large, friendly green eyes. They would have been vibrant once, shining like emeralds, Erik thought – but now she looked tired.

  Road worn and weary.

  ‘We’re going to check it out,’ added the glowering soldier, balanced temperament restored. ‘Day’s getting long. Worst case maybe we can find something useful to bring back with us.’

  Erik struggled to hide his smile. Maybe if they were able to find sufficient valuables, they’d turn back to the compound and abandon the hunt. He knew the place, though he’d never stepped foot inside – earlier scouts had reported the streets around this area were swarming with corpses and thus Quinn had focused his scavengers elsewhere. The strip mall also had a liquor store, but the entrances were separated by a long stretch of vacant commercial space. Barely old enough to buy a beer himself, Erik’s appetite whet for something with some strength to it, something to chase away the cold nights and unwelcome dreams. Though very likely it was picked clean already – if they had time on the way out – maybe he’d pop in next door.

  As the band made it to the base of the hill, they lined up tightly behind the soldiers as they surveyed the intended target. The streets on this side of the building appeared bare except for a few stragglers, scarcely visible several blocks up the street. The group sat patiently as the soldier scanned the area with the scope of the C7 before being waved forward. Led by the redhead, they filtered around the building and crossed the street towards the strip mall as their advance was covered.

  They inched alongside the brick building, fully bathed in sunlight as they emerged from the denser canopy of the residential streets. The activity seemed to have removed the nervousness of inaction, and they advanced to the corner where they could survey the parking area.

  An expanse dotted with a few vehicles, comically covered in several inches of ice from the cycle of snow and freezing rain. A few ghouls shambled by on the road at the far end of the lot, but otherwise nothing stirred. Opposite the entry to the strip mall stood a midrise apartment building – a mass of black glass and dark metal, jutting from the asphalt. A few of the windows were open, some with tattered drapes billowing listlessly in the breeze, others with makeshift signs and pleas for ‘S.O.S.’ and ‘Please Help’ scrawled onto whatever fabric could be found.

  The building looked dead.

  No sign of movement save the gentle flap of the signage.

  Likely the occupants had succumbed to the outbreak weeks ago. It was a significant structure by the city’s standards, likely boasting several dozen units. It could be teeming with dead.

  The redhead waved her partner over and he fell in at the back of the line. Erik watched as they communicated through a series of abstract hand signals. They must have been content any threat was sufficiently far away to pay their advance little notice; the group slid out and made for the main entrance.

  The entryway was sheltered and set well back from the parking lot; only a dusting of old snow yet clung to it. Several of the double doors were shattered, littering their tinted glass throughout cement walkway and inside the structure. As they crept inside, the breeze disappeared and the air became heavy and stagnant. Frigid shade replaced the warmth of the sun, and the deep misery of the place rooted within you.

  The store was huge relative to such a small group.

  Erik wrung his hands about his bat as he was waved in. His eyes greedily searched the dim corners, illuminated in a strange tapestry of light from the broken windows and tinted glass. Shafts of natural light pierced the gloom at irregular intervals, making depth and distance difficult to judge.

  Some racks of clothing were overturned while others hung limp and off centre, dangling meekly from cheap hangers. The cashier’s stations were smashed; their components and casings cluttered the narrow lanes between them. The little displays of candy bars and gum were picked clean.

  At the other end of the store, however, it was evident some of the shelves yet had stock.

  The gloom hung off Erik’s skin as he pushed deeper into the eerie quiet. Pools formed beneath the refrigerated units, spreading sporadically throughout the otherwise grime-stained checkered tile. The smell of wet cardboard and spoiled microwave dinners permeated the air. Somewhere to his right, Erik could hear some indistinct but decidedly excited chatter; his companions were enjoying some luck. Some bottles faintly clinked as they were loaded into a pack. A flashlight clicked on behind him and Erik peered over his shoulder to see the pretty redhead flash him a smile before she slipped down another aisle.

  Erik thanked the shadow as it obscured an involuntary blush. He rested his bat against an empty display and started sifting through the sparse inventory.

  Someone laughed loudly elsewhere in the cavernous store; they must have found something particularly appetizing. Of course, given the last several days’ worth of life at the compound, anything would have been good.

  Erik allowed a wide grin to spread from ear to ear. Surely they’d have enough of a score to derail any further thoughts of pursuit. They could easily justify an immediate return to the compound, and Quinn would be hard pressed to call their run anything but a success.

  All that, and he was feeling confident in approaching that redhead.

  Erik grabbed a couple boxes of dehydrated mashed potatoes and whatever jars of salsas and jams he could handle. When he could stuff no more into his pockets, he collected his trusty bat and returned to the front of the store. He rejoined a couple of his companions as they struggled to contain their satisfaction.

  After a few more moments, the entire group was ready to depart. Erik shot a playful look to the redhead, who pinched her mouth into a bashful smile.

  Even as the group started towards the exit, chattering excitedly away, Erik couldn’t hear a word of it. They bragged about their various treasures, the fun they would have that night.

  They would be heroes to the beleaguered compound.

  He was fixated on her, and though she tried to play it cool, he knew he was in. That recognition must have crept its way onto his face, as she r
olled her eyes and motioned him to fall in with the column.

  Erik moved to join them and turned his head to hide his smile from her. Once convinced he was concealed from her prying eyes, he even allowed himself a chance to laugh.

  The lighthearted flirting was going well.

  It reminded him of the days before, days pre-outbreak when he and his buddies would work their charms to meet girls wherever they could.

  They were young, after all.

  Consumed with thoughts of their imminent success and the inevitable excitement their return would bring the demoralized compound, he never stopped to question their luck until this perfect moment.

  How could there be no dead here?

  Erik’s pace slowed half a step.

  No corpses at all.

  His laughter trailed off as he considered the scene.

  Something he hadn’t noticed on the way in.

  Erik stopped in his tracks, turned his back to the group and faced the wall opposite the line of windows at the front of the store.

  The drywall there was peppered with holes of varying sizes.

  Erik’s head cocked quizzically to the side.

  What the hell…?

  A sudden split to the air – a thin sound, a muffled crack; Erik couldn’t process it before it was replaced with a searing pain. The bullet tore through the left side of his neck with sufficient force to spin him around. His bat flung from his grasp and clattered across the floor. As he crashed to the tile, his hand instinctively went to the wound, but he found no strength in his fingers.

  The world dimmed as he heard another shot. Blood spray burst overhead and coloured the air somewhere nearby. He thought he could hear the distant cries of his companions’ alarm.

  In an instant, the redhead was over him, steadying his head and applying pressure to his neck. He could see her lips moving, but couldn’t hear her. He couldn’t make out the words.

  She’s so lovely…

  Tears, swollen with terror, drowned her emerald eyes.

  With each beat of his heart, Erik could see a shock of his lifeblood pulse between her fingers as they vainly struggled to stem the bleeding. Her lips continued to move and plead, but Erik was lost in those flooded eyes.

  Another crack and one of the heavy, tinted windows shattered at the front of the building. Erik could hear the splinters of glass faintly dance on the black and white tile, felt as if he could feel their reverberation through his back as he lie on the floor.

  Time was getting hurried, now.

  Another uniformed figure appeared, wrapped his arms about the redhead and tore her away.

  She made every effort to keep her hands on his neck as long as possible.

  He appreciated that.

  Erik sputtered beneath the crushing tide.

  ***

  Jacob’s notes proved only somewhat useful.

  He had taken the time to highlight a couple structures he thought looked to be in reasonable shape, buildings he had come across while scavenging but was unable to gain entry due to ghoul activity in the streets around them. Of course there was no way to know what was inside; only an indication that the buildings weren’t completely derelict.

  While the first unit they broke into had little of use, with all the telltale evidence of hasty packing, the second main floor apartment was occupied. A couple of ghouls – old, decrepit things – hadn’t even managed to lift their battered forms from off the floor before being dispatched.

  Sully had taken a liking to the hatchet.

  Portraits and a thin layer of dust bore the only witness to the apocalypse from this vantage; likely the previous occupants were out of town when the world fell apart. Maybe they found shelter and yet survived somewhere along the road, maybe they died trying to make it back home.

  Isaac cared little for the fate of those that lived here. His only interest was ensuring their survival for another day. Nevertheless, he couldn’t make eye contact with the family photos leering down at him as he looted their belongings.

  They hadn’t made much progress. They collected a few hand tools – pliers, screwdrivers and the like – but no real weapons. A couple hard plastic water bottles, some batteries, some twine.

  Hardly the successes they hoped for.

  Well, such is the luck of things.

  The unit with the elderly couple did have a small medical kit with dressings and assorted bandages, and a host of multicoloured medications. But judging from the appearance of the corpses, Sully and Isaac each suspected they’d be of little use. Not knowing any differently they collected the lot, figuring Daniel could sort through it.

  Isaac was rifling through bottles of household cleaners beneath a sink when Sullivan emerged from a bedroom with a small black pouch in hand.

  ‘Whatcha got there?’ Isaac asked as he rocked back on his heels.

  Sullivan turned the package over in his hands.

  ‘Binoculars,’ he chimed as he undid the Velcro clasp, ‘not too powerful, but quality.’

  They were small and simple – a folding set of Bushnell binoculars.

  They might just prove to be the highlight of the day.

  ‘Any luck on your end?’ Sully asked.

  Isaac turned back to face the rows of cleaning products and gently shut the cupboard doors.

  ‘Might be something you can do with that stuff, but I’m no chemist,’ Isaac replied as he rose to his feet and strode over to the refrigerator. ‘It’s just dead weight as far as I can tell.’

  Sully nodded.

  ‘No sense carrying anything we aren’t sure to need,’ he agreed as he folded the binoculars back into their case and tucked them into his jacket.

  Isaac frowned at the mess of rotten food and opened the freezer door. He reached in and produced a thick glass bottle, squarish with a fondly familiar black label. As he pulled the bottle out, he flashed the Jack Daniel’s to his companion.

  ‘…would this be considered unnecessary?’ he pondered aloud.

  Sully shrugged.

  ‘Doubles as disinfectant.’

  The corner of Isaac’s mouth curled into a grin as he slid the bottle into his pack.

  ‘Now you’re thinking.’

  The two rhythmically turned over the remaining drawers and cupboards.

  After he completed his section of the apartment, Isaac allowed himself to slump down on the couch. It was old and the springs were worn unevenly, but he didn’t mind; it felt good to be off his feet for a moment. He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his fingers over his eyes, allowing his head to drift back into the headrest of the battered sofa.

  Sully crossed his arms and leaned against the living room wall.

  ‘So,’ he began, staring at Isaac expectantly, ‘what do you think of them?’

  Isaac’s eyes flared open.

  Ever the pragmatist, Isaac had been running the numbers since the moment he and Sully left. He had stood off to the side and allowed the introductions to unfold around him so as to gauge the strangers’ worth.

  Jacob seemed more than capable. He had kept the three of them safe and fed for a remarkable length of time considering how poorly equipped they were. But he was damaged; no telling how badly. Concussions have a funny way about them – latent symptoms, exhaustion, subtle tricks on your perception. Tomorrow the bruises would deepen and his muscles would be sore and tense. He would be slow, likely for several days, even if they spent what little medicine they had on his care.

  One of the women looked broken, ready to shatter at the slightest touch. Emily had the perpetual glassy look of incompetency. She would be a liability.

  Isaac was undecided about Madison. He had overheard her talk about work in the parks department, so he reasoned she’d likely be fit, not afraid to be outdoors. But she had been protected from the wastes due to Jacob’s sacri
fice; no telling how she would react in a tough situation. She would be a wildcard.

  Isaac couldn’t escape the conclusion that the math wasn’t favourable.

  Too many variables, and too few of them controllable.

  Long term, Jacob’s group stood to benefit more from any alliance.

  But right now, they had food.

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ Isaac bluntly evaded the question, leaning forward in his seat and running a hand through his matted brown hair.

  Sullivan peered out the window.

  ‘They seem like decent people.’

  Isaac was thankful Sullivan couldn’t see his face from where he stood.

  Decent people, the words echoed in his head.

  Decent people don’t make it now.

  ‘Yeah,’ was the only response Isaac could muster as he rose to his feet.

  Sullivan watched Isaac’s movements and studied his body language.

  Isaac was fast becoming uncomfortable with being the subject of Sully’s attention.

  ‘How much daylight do we have left?’ he asked.

  Sully could sense the deflection but let it pass.

  ‘Couple hours, maybe; the days are getting longer.’

  Thank god.

  ‘Alright, let’s get moving,’ Isaac offered as he collected his pack, ‘we can probably hit another building before we start to lose the light.’

  Isaac ran his thumb under one of the shoulder straps and adjusted the weight on his back.

  Sullivan didn’t stray from his vantage at the window.

  ‘I’ve got a different idea.’

  Isaac stared at Sully quizzically.

  Sully turned his head to face Isaac without coming off the wall, lazily lifting a finger and pointing in the distance.

  ‘We’re not far from the barracks – a couple blocks or so,’ he unzipped a jacket pocket and produced the small black case, ‘let’s take a look.’

  Isaac considered the suggestion. Their packs had some provisions in it, but if their haul today was any indication of what remained in this burnt out quarter of the city, they might need to make a bigger play. Jacob had come back with a respectable haul of food, and they had sufficient snow and ice they could melt for water if their bottles ran out.

 

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