The love of my life got up from the bed. I looked back at her like the simple act of leaving the bed was like pulling out my life support. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to get the kids something to eat. And if you can get some substance in you, then we can finally get some drugs in your system,” Sarah said without a hint of concern for my response. My response was a side note because she was right – she’s always right.
“I’ll be right here,” I called with a strengthening voice. She only looked towards me with a smile.
Once I was alone, I continued to lie there in the bed reeling over past events. My dilapidated form subdued the natural instinct I’d formed to jump up and find a weapon. Regardless of the fact that I was not in immediate danger, I had conditioned myself to be prepared because being alone meant I had to watch my back. After fighting tooth and nail against Hell incarnate, I couldn’t fault myself for still wanting to follow this urge.
Sarah returned a few minutes later. In her hand was one of our translucent green plastic cups. It was littered with cracks that should have made the drinking apparatus useless long ago. Somehow, years later, the thing still holds liquid. This time it was filled with a brown fluid that became distorted from the ribbed texture of the cup. She set the drink down on the nightstand and pulled the blackout curtain back a bit.
She took a pillow and attempted to help me sit up. My muscles were stiff and resistant. Pain echoed everywhere that pain could be felt. After a minute of struggle, I finally sat up at a forty-five degree angle and Sarah handed me the cup.
The drink looked like cheap lunchroom chocolate milk. “What is it?” I asked hesitantly.
“Darling, whatever it is,” she said with a devious smirk, “you’re going to drink it.”
I could win battles against the undead, but wasn’t worth trying against the much more fearsome force that is my wife. The drink wasn’t as bad as I thought… but then it wasn’t great either. I choked it down and enjoyed the sensation of sustenance returning to my body. “This tastes like that instant breakfast crap.”
“Probably because it is that crap… only in water instead of milk,” Sarah snickered. She walked into the bathroom and returned with an old prescription pill bottle.
“What, you’re trying to drug me now? Come on, you’ve already got my pants off!” I said with a painful chuckle. It’s amazing I could be here joking with my beloved. Marital humor is a powerful force.
She rolled her eyes at me and twisted the bottle open. “It’s the pain pills you never took from when you broke those toes. They’re a little expired but it should help more than the Advil you’ll have to take when these are gone. So enjoy it while you can!”
I was born a klutz. Frankly, I was shocked that I won any battle against the walking dead. My normal level of clumsy dexterity should have created a fatal ‘out-take’ of some kind. Fortunately, I had the proper motivation fueling my actions. Sarah handed me two of the capsules. I downed them with the last sip of my chocolate flavored beverage.
“Get some rest, Nathan,” my wife commanded with loving eyes. “The meds should help you sleep. I’ll send Calise in to check on you later.”
“Please remind her that hugs hurt when your ribs are broken.”
Sarah laughed. “I will, but you know it’ll only make her want to hug you more.” She turned to the door.
“Sarah…” I said almost shyly.
Her hair angelically flipped around with her turning head. “Yes, baby?”
“I…” My voice choked and cut off. “I just wanted to tell you that I love you.”
A smile worked over her face. When she turned I saw that her eyes were already moistened with tears that had most likely formed before I said it. Sarah walked over to me and gave me a soft kiss on the lips. “I know you do sweetheart.”
Then she was gone and I was alone again. My mind was so flooded with thoughts that I couldn’t focus on a singular one. Any effort to sort through the tsunami of worry was drowned by the greater strength of sleep’s embrace.
Chapter 2 – Lucid Dreamer
Day Two - November 24
0800 hours:
Suddenly I was back alongside the James. I could hear the churning rapids. A bellowing shriek of some passing undead debris permeated the droning water. Then I felt the strain on my arm. My right grip was getting moist but tightened out of necessity. It was attached to the blade that had become a deadly extension of my very person.
The contortion of my body radiated pain from every joint. I looked up in a panic. Black clouds blanketed a soulless sky. Under my left fist was the rusted ribbing of a re-bar ladder. Looking back, I allowed my eyes to follow the curvature of my soiled Kukri.
It ended in a monstrous face. The blade was embedded into the visage of a creature. This beast had crawled back from death in a viral mission to spread reminders of Hell itself. Now its weight pulled my weapon and me down into the virulent waters that flowed beyond.
I couldn’t find the breath to scream. I couldn’t even find the breath to plead for mercy. All I could feel was the overwhelming burden that came from the cusp of failure. My frantic eyes shot back to the top of the ladder. Nothing was there to greet me. Nothing was there to save me.
The strain was unbearable. I must let go or this would be my death. Then my eyes looked back into the lifeless, drooling corpse now fused into my lifeline. But the face was different… A single eye looked down the blade and back at the source of execution.
I know that eye. I know this face, I thought irrationally.
It all struck me at once – I was on the other end of the blade. The mutilated version of me opened its mouth. A horrid slick of black tar spewed from jaws that hung agape. Weakness overcame my twisted body. I released my grip of the ladder and fell with the disfigured doppelganger into the hellish waters.
Bitterly cold waves nipped against my exposed skin. The beast screamed a nonsensical rant even as it remained impaled upon my Kukri. It said no words but I knew it was accusing me. My undead reflection condemned me with the accusation of being a monster. It clawed at my face trying like hell to create some equalizing disfigurement.
All I knew then was the muted sounds of cyclonic waters. An overwhelming sense of hopelessness drained me of any will to fight. I drifted downstream with the monster and finally as a monster.
I sat up in a cold sweat. At that moment I was thankful that reality could be infinitely more comforting than dreams.
1020 hours:
My dreams were not kind.
Over the course of that day, I had gone in and out of consciousness. The time I spent awake was time I tried my best to forget the things my mind showed me while I slept.
Sometimes I was alone. Other times I’d feel the painful snuggling power of Calise. She’d lie there and talk about some game she and her brother had thought up to pass the time. Then she’d get quiet or fall asleep. Whether it was the sound of her soft little voice, or the rhythmic snore she denied having, I just stayed there and enjoyed every minute.
Whenever Calise was willing to leave, Maddox took over. He’d sit and ask me questions. His characteristically hyperactive talking rambled on and on. Nearly all of the questions were about the infected. I always answered him as vaguely as possible. It didn’t matter that he had perpetually acted older than he really was, he was too young to know what I was forced to know.
After minutes of his bombarding questions, my proud son then switched to reading aloud. His book choice was Historic Rail Lines of North America. Hearing about trains didn’t exactly help my quest for distraction from the plaguing thoughts within. It didn’t matter because, of course, I never stopped him. I just told him that I walked across some train tracks and they helped me get home. Hearing this elated the mini version of me. A few minutes of his excited wondering then ended with more reading.
Sarah wasn’t there as much as the kids. I didn’t fault her for this at all. The kids wanted to spend time in there with me and she neede
d to keep an eye on other aspects of our state of living. I’d occasionally ask her about things outside. She was always deliberately evasive and blamed the tepid response on my need to recuperate.
Then, during the times I found myself alone, I just sat there motionless. I fought returning back to a needed slumber. Regardless of my body’s screams for the chance to repair itself, I fought it. My true battle was to prevent the dreams from returning. Because in those dreams, I was forced to relive the battles I’d survived. The notion of suffering through another one of those dreams made fighting my injuries worth any risk.
My battered body had been in this bed now for days. “Atrophy be damned,” I said aloud to myself.
The painkillers coursed through my bloodstream making me feel better than I probably was. I also genuinely believed that I was getting better. My mind was fully in favor of rising from the bed… however, my body had other plans.
I pushed my arms behind me in order to sit up. The act was incredibly painful. A few minutes of struggle later and I finally pushed myself up to nearly a sixty-degree angle. Bodily angst radiated everywhere. I froze there for at least five minutes just hoping the pain would subside.
At last I was able to throw my left leg over the side of the bed. My masochistic thoughts teased me for being so decrepit. Another minute of heavy breathing allowed me to toss my other leg over. For the first time in days I was sitting up.
My vision became blurred from the onslaught of discomfort. I closed my eyes and remained still for as long as needed. If Sarah were to come in the room right then I would have been scolded. Inside, I wanted to be spared her scorn. The nagging didn’t bother me at all. What I wanted was to walk out and surprise the sweet family that had tended to me.
Inch by inch, I eased myself down. The air outside the blankets was cool. It served as a reminder of the brisk November temperatures that had bombarded me atop the rail bridge. My memory foam mattress was still ripe with my residual heat. I could feel warmth from the area I laid radiate from almost a foot away.
Then the ground met my feet. During my coma Sarah had lovingly wrapped my feet in plush fleece socks. I winced as the carpet compressed the fleece. Collapse seemed imminent. My arm swung back to catch myself from falling. However, the fall never came.
I stood on my own power. The stance was a wobbly one… but I was proud of it nonetheless. Just as I had with my other movement milestones, I froze, allowing myself to adapt to the new position.
Gradually I began to hobble. If the zombies saw my shuffle, they’d likely see me as one of their own. It took me a few minutes to clear a distance that normally would have been cleared in seconds. The feel of the cool doorknob in my hand put my internal teasing to rest.
I opened the door without a sound, braced myself against the wooden slab, and crept into the dark hallway. Under normal circumstances the house would be lit with ambient light from the sun. Things were as dark as they would be before dawn.
The door to Maddox’s room was directly across from our bedroom. I tested the knob and found it unlocked. Gently, I eased it open. The room was mostly dark. My eyes had already adjusted to the light level. I looked around and smiled at the familiar area. Every wall was plastered with hints of my son’s hobbies. Posters or cutouts of everything from super heroes to Lego had covered the light green paint Sarah and I used when we bought the house almost nine years before. When we painted it so long ago we used the green color because our son’s gender was to remain an anxious mystery for a few more weeks.
Both eyes drifted to the carpet as I remembered that happy day. Maddox was over five months away from entering the world. I tried to be the super husband then. Regardless of how much she was willing or capable of helping, I made Sarah sit so much of the move out. She would inspect the work I’d done on the walls. With a hand lightly rubbing her belly, she’d point to an obvious spot and smile. I’d respond with a grunt and stomp over to apply more paint. My reward was always a peck on the cheek. I would sigh, then my glowing wife would sit back in the radiant sunlight and wait to tease me again. Those were happy times.
The room was much different. An old comforter was tacked over the window. It blocked a majority of the light from entering or exiting the room. This was a smart move. I hadn’t considered it before the world went to hell. Days before things got really bad and I was trapped at work, I boarded up the outside of the house. I’m not contractor, so the work wasn’t perfect. The extra layer of protection would keep someone from getting in or out for a while, but an attentive eye might spot shadows in the room. Blocking out the light allowed for some freedom of movement inside.
Only the fringes of the blanket were visible because the majority of it was blocked by the boy’s vertically turned bed. On the other side of the propped up twin mattress was his large dresser. I refinished that dresser for Maddox before he was born; it was originally mine as a kid. This combined barricade made the room as safe as it was dark.
Despite the blocked window, the room was empty. I turned my attention down the hall. Immediately, I felt dumb for not noticing the pull down ladder, which obstructed the hallway. The wooden steps grew closer to me with each shuffled step. Beyond it I could see little detail. Considering the effort Sarah took with securing Maddox’s room, it was logical to assume she’d treated the rest of the house equally.
Movement rapidly became easier, the stiff pain less noticeable with every step. It felt great to be out of bed. All relief aside, I was unnerved by how foreign this fortified house of mine actually felt. Soon I noticed the light that trickled down from the attic entrance. Slats from the ladder were lit from a faint, unnatural white light.
After another step I was soothed by a break in the eerie quiet. I heard a dainty giggle followed by the muffled sound of another voice. The smile on my face was unavoidable. That giggle could charm even the undead.
The pull down ladder takes up most of the hallway. Squeezing past while it’s extended always proved challenging. Each time I had to suck in my gut, cursing myself for gaining more weight. Navigating through the space between the wall and wooden contraption was different this time around.
I braced myself on one of the wooden slats and slipped through with ease. It was at that moment I realized how much my shape had changed. Ignoring the discomfort, I reached down and lifted the ribbed shirt that Sarah had put me in in order to inspect my waistline. Before the world ended, the pants I wore fit my belt line like an elastic glove. Now, I was shocked at the sag that drooped from the fabric line. Why did it take the apocalypse for me to lose some fucking weight?
Another chill worked over me. The air in the house was brisk. I somehow hadn’t noticed it until my skin touched the wooden ladder. The thorough nestling I had enjoyed while on bed rest kept me from feeling how much of the pre-winter air leaked inside our house.
My neck arched upwards to the glowing hole in the ceiling. To bend in such a way sent waves of pain through me. At first the words didn’t find their way out of my throat then on the second attempt they finally came.
“Hi family…”
1045 hours:
“Daddy!” two voices simultaneously shouted from above. They were quickly followed by a softer shushing sound and little footsteps pattered to the attic entrance.
Half a second later I saw the smiling faces of both of my children. Maddox practically hopped down to my level. I had to take a quick step backwards to avoid his descent. He immediately embraced me in a careful hug.
I rubbed the back of his hair and tried not to let on I was feeling any discomfort. Calise carefully cleared the wooden steps and joined her brother’s embrace. My little angel predictably lacked the caution Maddox used. Even though this wasn’t the first hug I’d received from them since my return, it felt like something I hadn’t done in years. After all, a standing hug is always better than a prone hug.
Maddox pulled me back so Sarah would have enough room to step down. The small gesture filled me with pride for how much the little man t
ried to help his mother. She placed her arms around me and rewarded my bipedal rebirth with a kiss.
“Daddy,” she said through a fusion of smiling and scolding, “why are you out of bed? I thought we agreed you would take some time to make sure you were ready to be up and about.”
This was exactly how I expected her to respond. Predictability in an unpredictable world was comforting. “I’m alright, Mommy. Calise has told me so much about the games you guys were playing I just had to check them out.” The little princess looked at me with a massive grin of baby teeth. I winked at her and looked back at Sarah. “I’ll be alright, really. There isn’t time for me to lie around trying to feel a hundred percent.”
Sarah looked down at the kids. Her suspicious expression indicated that she was on to me. Having Maddox and Calise there kept me from getting in trouble. This wasn’t the first time I’ve used their presence as a way to prevent getting yelled at. Then her expression lightened to demonstrate a humorous acceptance of the situation. “Come on, baby,” Sarah said in a smooth and caring tone, “let’s go into Maddox’s room so we can tell you the new rules of the house.”
Chapter 3 – Improvised Existence
Day Three - November 25th
0225 hours:
My head throbbed from the blast. The area around me was muted in an unsettling quiet. Unsettling because everything I could see showed hints of chaos. Fire and debris were strewn about reminiscently like a brief hailstorm’s disorderly pattern.
I tried not to look at the human shapes. They weren’t human anymore. How could something so charred out of existence be considered human? Whisking fingers of Hell’s reach concealed much from my sight.
(Book 2)What Remains Page 2