by K. M. Malloy
Gary had never shown up, though. He had been losing his mind over the last month, but wasn’t so far gone that he’d miss their rendezvous. Or maybe he had finally snapped and the Army snatched him away in the night, just as they had taken Dustin and Mrs. Amos and dozens of others. A lump stuck in her throat at the thought of them taking Gary away, snarling and kicking in the night. Her skin turned to gooseflesh as she imagined one of them shooting him with that little dart, bending down to check his pulse to make sure he was dead.
She shuddered and shook her head. Keep moving, she told herself. Hope wasn’t lost yet as long as she kept moving.
The stream grew louder, drowning out her thoughts. The trees began to thin as she got closer to the water, but the bushes began to thicken, making walking close to the water next to impossible. She stopped for a moment to watch it rush by, transfixed by the gurgling sound the water made as it moved its way around the rocks.
Examining the terrain, Aire determined following the stream directly was not the best plan. This close to it, she couldn’t hear the highway. And with the shrubbery so dense she knew she’d be torn to pieces within minutes by the thorns. She decided to cross it instead and stick to it as close as safely possible.
Shoving the brush aside, Aire began the small hike across the lazy stream. As she approached, the sick feeling knotted her stomach to the point of pain, as though the rock lined river bed were an invisible vice grip clenching at her organs. Breathing hard and clutching her stomach, she stopped for a moment to calm herself. She bent down to cup the cool water in her hands, hoping that the chilliness of it splashing on her face would help settle her stomach. Her hands were just about to embrace the cool moisture when a faint sound caught her ear.
Aire froze, straining to hear over the garbling stream. She heard it again. It was faint, but not far, sounding like a low growl from a threatening hound.
She looked over her shoulder. Even from her low point she could see the tips of the bushes moving in the distance. She slowly arose and began making her way towards the sound. It heightened in decibel as she approached. At first it sounded almost like mumbled snarling. When she was close enough to hear it clearly, she was certain it was a man’s voice humming and muttering to himself. The tone grew familiar as she snaked through the bushes, yet it sounded distorted, as though the man had been muzzled while trying to hold a conversation. Another sound came into the mix as she slinked close enough to make out the figure. It was very quiet, almost inaudible, like the tearing of silk.
Closer and closer Aire inched towards it. Within twenty feet of the figure her stomach twisted even tighter when she realized who it was. She closed her eyes as she stood facing the stranger, her stomach burning as she hoped that she was wrong in her assumption of the accompanying noise.
When he realized she was there, he gave a slight jerk and let out another incomprehensible grumble. Aire opened her eyes, and immediately wished she hadn’t.
In a small clearing by the stream stood Gary, his shirt soaked and stained. His arms were raised behind his head and he worked furiously at something on the back of his neck.
“Gary?” she called out. He ignored her and kept muttering, his hands in constant motion. She stepped out of the bushes and called to him again. “Gary, what are you doing out here?”
Again he ignored her, continuing whatever he was doing behind his head. She clenched her fists, her lips trembling. She knew what he was doing. She’d seen this scene every night for the last three weeks. It was just a dream, she told herself, it couldn’t be real. Any moment now she’d wake up back in her room with Mitch staring at her.
Breathing hard, she began to walk towards him and called out more boldly.
“Gary?”
This time he stopped and dropped his hands to his sides. In the dim light of the fire she could make out a razor blade in one hand, a small chunk of scalp in the other.
“No,” she whispered as she clutched her hands over her lips. It had been real, the dream was real. She gagged as the vomit threatened to rise from her throat, her head spinning in dizziness. It had been real.
“This is what you abandoned me for?”
She let out a yelp as she saw Troy emerge from the woods, a baseball bat dancing on his fingertips.
“No!” She held out her hands as if to create an invisible wall between them. “It’s nothing like that, Troy.”
“You left me for this bumbling maniac who chops himself to pieces?”
“I never left you.”
“Well isn’t it just a coincidence then that I find you two out here all cozy?”
“Let’s talk about this. Put down the bat and let’s talk. I can explain everything.”
Troy shook his head and began circling the fire as Gary continued to cut. “I don’t need you to explain anything. I already know what you do with guys in the woods. I was so stupid to think I had been special. But it’s not special.”
“Yes it is, Troy. It means the world to me.”
“Obviously it doesn’t if you’re sharing it with every guy in town!”
“No I’m not!” Her voice was high pitched with fear, her eyes moist. Gary continued mumbling and sawing as if the other two weren’t even there. Troy was upon her now, circling them, his writhing hands strangling the bat.
“Do you know what I think of you?”
“Please, just listen for a minute.”
In one fluid motion Troy raised the bat over his shoulder and swung it at Gary’s skull. She heard the crack of bone as Gary’s knuckles broke as the bat smashed down onto the razor blade, lodging it deep into the base of his skull. His body hadn’t hit the ground yet when Troy began to sprint towards her.
“That’s what I think of you and your lies!”
Aire screamed and began to run.
“What do you think of your precious Gary now?”
Her smaller frame made the sprint through the woods easier, but she knew she couldn’t keep her lead for long. Troy was twice her size, twice her speed, and he was pissed.
Rather than outrun him, she knew she had to get to someone, and fast. She ran back towards John’s Town, zigzagging as she cut diagonally through the woods to meet with the highway.
The sounds of the chugging engines she’d heard earlier grew louder as Troy’s footsteps behind her neared. He was so close she could almost feel his breath on her neck, could almost feel the warmth of his body burning her skin.
Tree limbs and wild bushes tore at her clothes. Her arms were cut and bleeding as she ripped through the forest. Troy was close. His footsteps pounded the rotting leaves and decaying limbs. From the sound of it he was no more than a bat’s length away.
She vaulted over a fallen tree and slammed into a thick layer of brush. She felt his fingers claw at her hair as she gave one final heave to hurdle over the bushes and burst out of the tree line. A choked scream caught in her throat as she went crashing to the ground, Troy landing on top of her.
The fall knocked the wind out of her and her chest burned as she tried to take in a gulp of air. She looked around, the world tilting this way and that, slowly righting itself as the scene came back into focus. Through the thick grass in front of her she saw the convoy of military humvees heading towards John’s Town as Troy’s limp weight crushed her, causing even more agony to her already burning lungs. Even with the pain of constricted breathing she continued to remain still in the grass while the trucks passed. When the convoy was a safe distance away she rolled to her side and pushed Troy off of her, struggling to free her legs from under his weight.
He stared up at her from the ground, his green eyes unblinking, his mouth wide and gaping. A glob of saliva slid down his chin towards his cheek. A dart protruded from his neck, the red tail feathers standing as a proud flag of victory over him. Aire stared down at him, her mind going numb at the sight of his dead body. She’d loved him. He’d tried to kill her. She couldn’t feel anything.
She pushed his mouth shut and wiped the spittle awa
y. She closed his eyes as she leaned down to give him one last kiss before disappearing to the safety of the woods towards John’s Town. Those trucks were heading for her home, their coming with the emergence of the sun could only mean that they were coming for them all.
She had to get home to her brother.
***
Thursday May 6, 2010
4:57 a.m.
Population: 194
The troops were spot on today. Half a mile from town their sleepiness had worn off and their faces took on a predatory glean. Jackson had been searching the woods for the girl without any luck. He almost let out a whoop when he saw her tiny figure duck into the grass. Davidson had fired almost instantly when the boy had emerged. A chorus of hoorahs had rained down as the boy’s body emerged from the clearing and collapsed into the field.
“Great shot, Davie!”
“Right in the windpipe!”
“Great way to start the day, eh, boys?”
No one mentioned that Davidson had missed the other target, and for that Jackson was thankful. A small miracle had happened. Aire’s reflexes had been so quick that her movement hadn’t registered in their minds, and all they thought they saw was the boy. Thank God for that.
For a long time Jackson strained his eyes, focusing on where the dead boy lay and the girl hid. Smart girl not to move, he thought. The body was a speck in the distance when truck two’s driver came over the radio.
“Entering the perimeter. Thirteen infected units on their way to block four. Gear up, it’s rock and roll time.”
Whoops and hoots and yells erupted around Jackson. The marines grabbed their guns and stood up as the truck continued to shake and bounce down the road. They were ready, impatient to see the first scenes of action that day.
Jackson stood as well. In the distance he saw a tiny black speck dart into the woods heading back to the town. He smiled, and turned to load his gun.
***
Thursday May 6, 2010
5:05 a.m.
Population: 179
The sun had risen high enough to cast hazy spears of light through the trees, and Aire’s movements were fast and efficient as she barreled through the woods towards her house.
She began to feel tired and out of breath just as she saw the first row of houses to come into view. So far the streets were quiet. Those who hadn’t yet lost their minds were no doubt just beginning to stir, taking showers and putting on a pot of coffee.
Roanoke Street came into view. Her feet pounded the pavement as she rounded the corner and sprinted past the tidy yards. She heard the first screams from a few blocks away just as she disappeared through her front door.
The house was silent and empty. She couldn’t smell food cooking or hear the sound of Mitch’s idle chatter. She made her way across the living room into the kitchen. No one. The sick knot formed in Aire’s stomach again. Turning back to the living room, she placed her hand on the banister and took uneasy steps up the stairs.
“Mom?” she called. No answer. Half way up she called for Mitch. Still nothing. Pausing at the top of the stairs, she waited for responses that did not come.
She felt light headed as her tentative feet made their careful way across the hardwood floors. Aire knocked on her mother’s door and called to her again. The door creaked and whined as she opened it to an empty room.
The bed was a messy pile of feces twisted in urine stained sheets. Rotting food sat next to an over turned glass on the night stand that was still dripping water on the floor. She put her shirt over her nose and stepped into the room.
“Mom?”
Nothing. Chills went down her spine when she saw that her mother’s bathroom light was on. Her breathing was hard and forced as she opened the door.
At first glance there was nothing more than open cabinets, and a pile of clothing on the floor by the sink. With shaking hands she reached out, and pulled back the shower curtain.
She dropped to her knees and let out the contents of her twisting stomach. Tears blurred her vision as she let out the sickness of the sight.
Her mother’s naked body hung from the shower head, the twine noose wrapped around her neck cutting into her flesh as dried blood began to crack across her shoulders. A milky white film covered her bulging eyes, and her swollen tongue lolled from her mouth. She’d defecated, the puddle speckling the shower walls. Aire ripped the shower curtain back, heaving chunks onto the floor. She stumbled out of the bathroom, out of the tomb, and back into the hallway. Slamming the door, she steadied herself on the wall, urging her dry heaves to cease.
Wiping tears from her eyes, she took a deep breath and stumbled across the hall to her brother’s room.
“Mitch? Mitch, we’ve got to get out of here.” She fumbled with the door knob in the dim light and nearly fell into the room when it opened.
Chaos had ripped through her little brother’s room. The nightstand was overturned, and his bookshelves lay in a pile of broken splinters on the floor. Trinkets and trophies that had once dotted his dresser were now knocked over and scattered across the rug.
“Mitch, where are you?” She opened the closet to find it empty. His favorite hiding place was the cabinet under his fish tank, but Mitch was not there either.
Quick, short breaths seized her. She felt her fingertips go numb as a panic attacked approached.
“Mitch?”
The next few seconds drug into hours. She moved slowly, her feet leaded blocks, her skin screaming not to look behind the bed. One blood speckled shoe came into sight, then another. The world grew dark as she dropped to her knees. She didn’t hear herself scream, didn’t feel the pain as both hands grabbed her hair and pulled. All that existed in that moment in time was Mitch’s body crumpled into a pile on the floor.
He’d been beaten, his rib cage nothing more than a pile of bone chips and shards. His left arm cocked at an awkward angle, and she could see the whiteness from where bone was trying to poke through the skin. A necklace of bruises adorned his neck under a bloody face she could no longer recognize.
Her sobs echoed through the house. Her insides twisted, the grief too much for her body. She writhed in her aching weeping, rocking back and forth on the floor. Her agony bellowed in her ears and drown the rest of the world.
She didn’t hear the heavy footsteps coming down the hall. They paused a moment at the door to listen to her cries. The door jerked open, slamming into the wall. Two more heavy footsteps moved across the room.
Pure hatred welled within her when she saw him standing there. The twitch was severe, jerking his body every few seconds, his eyes blank and lifeless. She hated him, hated the sight of him.
“You!” she screamed as she stumbled to her feet and lunged towards her father. “How could you do this?”
The sudden attack caught him off guard. Aire was able to get several blows in, knocking him down against the dresser. She kicked at him on the floor, raising her foot high to smash down on his face with all the force she could muster. He got his bearings just as Aire’s foot was about to come down. Her father grabbed her shoe and yanked sideways as far as he could stretch. She landed hard on her back. The wind was knocked out of her for the second time and she gasped for breath, flopping like a goldfish out of its bowl to get away as she saw him stand up.
She held out her arms to brace herself as her father lunged on top of her. Strong hands wrapped around her throat. A flash of her mother blazed across her eyes. She swung at him, clawing his face, kicking her legs as she tried to squirm out from under him. She needed to gag, and her body spasmed as a cough was trapped in her windpipe.
Darkness began to cloak the room. The burn began to leave her lungs as the light grew dim. Her limbs were heavy, and her arms flopped listlessly against his chest. The snarls and ranting grew quiet. She heard nothing.
Her father’s face was the only blurb of light left in the room, a crazed portrait slowly fading in the darkness. His features were blurred and hazy, and finally disappeared altogether. She
gazed up into a small circle of white above, and closed her eyes.
There was pressure in the darkness. Someone was smashing her rib cage. There was a voice. It was far away and distorted, as though calling to her from underwater. More pressure. A pain in her lungs.
She was dizzy. Someone smacked her back. She remembered coughing, huge aching coughs that scoured her throat.
Arms wrapped around her as she coughed. The light began to come back. Though dizzy she could feel she was sitting up.
“Thank goodness,” she heard a man say over and over.
Details of Mitch’s room appeared; broken bookshelves, bed, nightstand, they all waved and bowed, shifting left and right. People were screaming outside. She had to see what it was. Aire tried to push herself up but toppled back to the ground. Mike’s smiling face came into view.
“Just give yourself a few minutes,” he said, pulling her back into sitting position.
“Where, what,” she chocked, her throat raw. “Mike?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” he said.
She rubbed her eyes and opened them wide for a moment. The room sat still and she took the scene in. There was remorse and hatred baked together when she saw her father laying halfway in the closet.
“What happened?”
“Everyone’s going crazy. It’s so bad they’ve got the military shooting in the street. Aire, I don’t think the Army is a good thing right now. I think they’re going to kill everyone, even people like us.”
She rubbed her neck, still trying to catch her breath. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you with your mom and sister?”
He shook his head. “They’re gone.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, and hugged him.