The Phoenix Trilogy (Book 1): World On Fire

by Scottie, Charles

  The room was dusty, and it looked like nobody had used it for quite some time. It was easy to guess why. All over the walls were posters for boy bands and fashion tips torn out of magazines. It was plain to see that this room had belonged to a teenager, maybe the man's daughter.

  Natalie briefly considered that this might not even be his home. He could have been squatting just the same as she had been, an idea that seemed likely until she picked up a picture frame that had been placed face down on a nearby dresser.

  There was no mistaking it was him. In the picture, he was grinning from ear to ear, while a young girl did her best to look suitably unimpressed. It was taken just outside of this house on the deck below, and judging by the boxes surrounding them, it was probably their first day here.

  Normal lives, once. Given the state of the room, and the fact that she had never seen a girl around, the outcome was fairly obvious. Somewhere along the line, his daughter didn't make it. Natalie felt a pang of sympathy for him, and her dislike of the man softened. Idiot or not, nobody deserved to lose a loved one like this.

  The sound of growling downstairs brought her out of her thoughts. Leaving the room behind, she walked straight down the stairs and toward the trapped monstrosity. It snapped its teeth once before she took the cap of its head off with a single sharp blow. The bone parted easily under the force of the hit, and the contents of its skull spilled out over the floor. For a brief moment Natalie pictured an overfull cup, before turning and retching on the carpet.

  "Oh yeah, that's good, that's great. I was almost worried I was getting used to this.", speaking aloud to herself as she wiped the vomit from her mouth, Natalie closed her eyes. She knew what she had come here to do was still ahead of her. Dealing with the zombies was terrifying in its own right, but you could picture them as beasts. It was easy to forget they were people once, but the man upstairs was all too human. She needed to handle this, or else his image would stick with her forever.

  Taking the staircase back up, she felt heavy. Her limbs didn't want to respond, as if every part of her was trying to say it was okay to leave. Growling quietly to herself, she pressed on. All too soon, she stood at the door to what must have been the master bedroom. Her mind raced with pictures of what it would look like, each more gruesome and nauseating than the last. With her hand shaking at the doorknob, she pushed open the door to find what awaited her inside.

  It wasn't what she expected. In her head, there was going to be blood everywhere, brains and bone fragments blown across the floor. The truth was almost too simple. He had shot through his temple, and while there was an undeniable pool of blood and dusted red across the wall, there wasn't much mess beside that. Even the smell of death was relatively faint, thanks to the open window nearby. You could almost have mistaken the scene for peaceful.

  Up close, she could see for the first time how haggard he really was. At a distance he had seemed well built, but now it was obvious that the muscles were loose and almost flabby. He hadn't been in good shape for a long time. She felt the same pang of sympathy again, and began the process of covering him up. Whoever this man had been before the outbreak was dead a long time ago. What was left was barely more than a shell.

  She would bury him if she could, but she wasn't sure if there was a way outside that didn't involve either the ladder or tearing down boards. Exploring the house for a safe exit, she found a hefty stockpile of supplies. Knowing that he was well off but still as worn down as he had been made her feel worse. He hadn't chosen to kill himself as a last resort. He chose it because he would rather die than fight to see another day.

  Continuing her search, she found that the back door wasn't sealed shut. Instead, it had a crossbar built over it, secured with heavy metal brackets to the wall. He had left himself a way out after all. It felt like it hadn't been touched in weeks, and it took a minute to force it out of place.

  A quick check outside revealed his fence was in good shape and the backyard to be clear. It was empty and overgrown, save for a shovel resting near... something. Natalie couldn't make out what she was looking at, but it seemed to be old and stained. A sheet, maybe. It was definitely cloth, wrapped loosely around a sizeable object. A few steps closer, and the smell of rot confirmed what it was.

  Natalie had been right about his daughter not surviving. He had brought her out here to bury her, but he hadn't been able to do it. He had the shovel laid out beside the body, and at some point, he had just walked away and shut the door behind him. Natalie felt her heart tear in two different directions as she examined the scene before her.

  He should have buried her. He was mourning, but he should have done it anyway. Back and forth she bounced, finally deciding that it didn't matter. He couldn't bury her, but she could. She would do it for both of them. That's what good people did, they honored their dead. Or at least in Natalie's case, they did the best they could.

  As the hours passed, Natalie was only vaguely aware of the time. It wasn't until after she finished the job that she realized how much of the day had disappeared. She'd dug one hole for both bodies, thinking it would be fitting for father and daughter to be interred together. There was no wood to make a cross, but she was able to find a handful of wildflowers to place on their grave.

  It wasn't much, but it was all she had. Natalie was the only person who would ever know this story, and she was content to put it to rest. They may have died, but at least they were together now. That had to count for something.

  "I'm sorry. I wish there was more I could do." The wind was whistling, and the sun had started to go down. It had been a long day. Resting beside the mound of freshly piled dirt, Natalie continued to talk aloud.

  "I don't know if you can hear me. I've never really been one to believe in a higher power, but it feels good to think that maybe you can. I just wanted to tell you, I'm sorry about your daughter." At this, Natalie bit her lip. Guilt had been gnawing at her for some time now about her part in his suicide.

  "I'm sorry I didn't help you. I was just afraid. I didn't think I could do anything, so I stayed inside. Maybe I could have made a difference. Maybe I would have gotten myself killed. I can't take it back now, but I am sorry that this happened the way it did." Her words trailed off, and she felt tears slip down her face. It had been such a long time since she'd let herself cry, she'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

  She was frustrated, with herself and with the man whose name she had never known. It felt like there were a thousand things she wanted to say, and no idea how to start with any of them.

  Feeling at a loss for words and exhausted from her day, she crawled back into the house to rest. The smell coming from the mess she'd left in the living room was revolting, and both of the bedrooms upstairs felt alien to her. Sleep in a dead girl's room, or sleep in the room her father shot himself in. She settled on using a couch in the adjacent den, removed from the rest of the memories attached to this place.

  As she was starting to get comfortable, her heart sank. Her journal was in the other house. She knew there was almost no chance that anything would happen to it, but going to sleep without it made her nervous.

  It was still light enough to see, and it would only take her a minute to retrieve it. She decided it was best to go now, then come back to sleep. Besides that, it reminded her that she needed to pull the ladder inside when she wasn't using it. She'd have to remember to do that when she returned.

  Finding herself outside once again, Natalie couldn't help but notice that the little cul-de-sac still looked cheery and unspoiled in the waning daylight. Jogging across the street and up the driveway, she could almost forget all that had happened, if it wasn't for the heavy silence that blanketed everything.

  The world was never this quiet in the old days. Now, it was as if every creature in nature knew that breathing too loudly could bring monsters crashing down around you.

  Moving as quickly as she could, she bounded through the broken entryway and up the stairs to her old room. She grabbed her journ
al and was back at her new home within moments. Digging through her backpack as a last thought to confirm she had everything she needed, Natalie briefly glanced up from her work and found herself face-to-face with a man who had just rounded the corner nearest her.

  Her attention snapped neatly to his rifle, a serious piece of work complete with a well-used bayonet, which was leveled squarely at her chest. The look of confusion on his face matched the one on her own. Apparently she wasn't what he was expecting to find. Natalie was talking before she realized it.

  "Woah now, easy buddy. I'm human, and I'm not out to hurt anybody. I'm just getting back into my house." She vaguely pointed a finger at the ladder, and then up toward the window. The man blinked heavily behind a pair of thick goggles before chuckling, a light and casual response that did little to make Natalie any more comfortable with the situation. His mouth and nose were covered with a heavy cloth that appeared to have flecks of dark red spattered across it. She didn't have to guess at what left the stains.

  Noting her eyes fixated on the bloody sash around his mouth, the stranger reached up and pulled it down so she could better see his face. To Natalie's surprise, he was remarkably clean, with short-cropped black hair and a neatly trimmed goatee of matching color. If she had to guess, he was in his mid-20s, maybe a year or two older than Natalie herself.

  His rifle dipped as he leaned back around the side of the house, calling out in a low voice, "Eh, guys. Not a zombie. Actually found somebody alive out here after all." Having alerted the rest of his gang to her presence, he returned his attention back to Natalie and seemed to size up her appearance.

  She didn't imagine she made the greatest first impression. She hadn't been able to clean the filthy muck off herself as well as she'd have liked, and with her swim goggles pushed back on her forehead combined with the downright gnarly looking crowbar at her hip, she suspected he had more reason to be wary of her than the other way around.

  "You, uh... well shit, I guess there's no point in mincing words. You sane? You look crazy, but I guess the world could do that to a person these days." He said it with a hint of a smile on his lips, but his rifle had swiveled up just enough to show it was a serious question.

  While he finished speaking, two more men with matching gear came around the corner to meet him. The guy who had found her first was clearly the youngest, with the others each being a decade older than him at the least. Of the two newcomers, one of them might have been the younger man's older brother, with matching hair color and the same rich caramel skin tone. The last was significantly more calloused, a bear of a man who looked like he'd made a living of going through Hell. The leader, if she had to guess.

  Natalie wasn't particularly fond of finding herself in the company of strangers, but considering she was outnumbered and outgunned, she decided it was best to go along with it.

  "Probably not crazy, but definitely not a threat. If you guys want supplies, the houses around here should have some, and I'm pretty confident they're clear." Given that she was not in a position to fight if it came down to that, Natalie hoped that maybe the promise of free spoils in the homes around her would convince the strangers that she wasn’t worth their time. With her fingers locked in a death-grip over her crowbar, she glanced at each of them in turn, trying to get a handle on their intentions.

  They looked professional, if that meant anything anymore, and the expressions on their faces suggested they had approached her more out of caution than a hunger for trouble. The one she believed to be the older brother spoke next. "You're out here alone?"

  Natalie was smart enough to know that was a dangerous question. She knew that when somebody asks if you're alone, you never say yes. That's the universal trigger for inviting bad news into your life.

  Unfortunately, her hesitation in answering seemed to be enough for the men to confirm their suspicions. The youngest shook his head with a dramatic sigh, releasing his rifle and allowing it to swing back on its strap as he raised his hands in a sign of peace.

  "Look, you're scared, we're armed, I get that. But hey, believe it or not, we don't wanna kill ya.” His wording drew a wince from his maybe-relative, and a deep rumble of disapproval from the giant behind him. It didn’t seem to have any impact on the young man, as he was either unaware or uninterested in their opinions of the way he handled himself.

  “We're here to find people like you and bring them back to the outpost. The military guys say they got no people to send out, but they took some volunteers for a mission and, tada, now we're here." He flashed another smile before continuing, an action that was likely supposed to come off as reassuring, but only managed to make Natalie feel more on edge.

  "I'm Marco. The man who looks like my cheap knock-off is my cousin, Rico, and the big guy who always looks intense is BJ." Leaning in and whispering all too loudly, Marco added with a wink, "Don't make fun of his name, he'll tear you in half. I mean it."

  Rico looked uncomfortable, and BJ grunted another rumble of dislike. Natalie took another moment to study the brutish man apparently known as BJ, realizing that he really was intimidating. Easily over six and a half feet tall, his head was completely shaven, and he carried himself with an air of power and confidence that was hard to ignore.

  Glancing back at her home, she had to pause and consider what would be safer. If she could make it into an outpost, she could ride the rest of this out in relative comfort. She briefly entertained the notion that Marco and his band might be lying, but if they had wanted anything else, they had the power to take it.

  Even knowing how dangerous the route to the safe zones could be, Natalie found herself believing these men would be able to get her there. Their weapons were no joke, and though they claimed they were only volunteers, they looked like they knew how to fight. For the first time, BJ spoke, his voice a booming tenor that shook her from her contemplations.

  "We'll stay here with you tonight. It's getting dark, and we need a place to rest. You can consider this a chance for you to prove you're as friendly as you claim, and in the morning, you can come with us." Natalie noted that he wasn't leaving much room for choice in his statement, and Marco must have sensed her uncertainty.

  "Look, I know it sounds like we're kind of, what's that word that soldier used, we're kind of 'commandeering' your home, but the alternative is you toss us out on our asses and hope we find a safe enough place to crash. That's not exactly a nice thing to do, given current times, you know?" He offered a sheepish grin, shrugging his shoulders as if to convince her that the heavily armed trio were more akin to lost puppies than wolves.

  Natalie closed her eyes for a moment. It wasn't like she had a choice, and this way, she could get to know them a little bit better. At least it gave her time to consider their offer, assuming it even was an offer.

  "Okay, yeah. Come on up. Don't mind the smell, there's a twice-dead corpse halfway into the living room." Natalie had already begun to climb the ladder as she spoke, but a sound from BJ caused her to look back. He had seen the zombie legs in the window and started to move toward the deck, with Rico stepping alongside him. Marco glanced back at her, his voice carrying the subtlest edge of tension.

  "Any other bodies we should know about? Those things are dangerous to leave around."

  "Trust me, it's dead. Brains on the carpet and everything." As she talked, Natalie briefly remembered throwing up. She felt a hint of red creeping into her cheeks, and hoped they wouldn't notice. Marco whistled to his friends, noticing the other walker that Natalie had dealt with. Rico and BJ had pulled the corpse in the window free, and were dragging it some ways down the street.

  "Yeah, no, that's not really the problem. They eat their dead, it’s like their meal of choice. Do you really not know this stuff?" Marco was keeping watch, his eyes raking the distant road, but his remark was clearly aimed at Natalie. This time, she couldn't hold back her blush.

  "Look, I've been hiding for most of this. It's not like I was going to make a point of conducting science experiment
s on these things for kicks." She was feeling defensive, but Marco just laughed.

  "Seriously, think about it for a sec. Zombies are supposed to eat people, but if that were true, how do more zombies get made? I mean, it can take a while for somebody to come back from the grave, right? Sooo, if a couple blighters are chowing down on a body for an hour, it’s not exactly going to be in tip-top shape when it gets back up, is it?" He paused for a moment to toss her a knowing look.

  He was clearly expecting her to fill in the blanks, but Natalie was just now realizing the truth of what he was saying. Without her response, he kept going.

  "All the rot-bastards that you've seen, how many of them look like they've really been eaten up? None. Bites sometimes, here and there, but just enough to kill a man. After that, they get left alone. These things may be mindless sometimes, but they've got an order to what they do. They want their new converts to be in good condition. It's the reason you don't see bodies lyin’ all over the place. You die a human, you get back up. You die a zombie, they eat you and move on. For as crazy as they can get, they still need food to give 'em the energy to hunt. They're dead, but they're flesh-powered, and calories are an important part of every diet." He chuckled at that, his cavalier attitude rubbing Natalie the wrong way as he motioned for her to continue up the ladder. A moment later, they were joined by BJ and Rico.

  They had stacked the bodies on top of each other some distance away from the house, clearly wanting to ensure nothing stopped to eat nearby, and it looked like they were ready to rest. Whatever exhaustion Natalie had been feeling, she found herself deeply unwilling to fall asleep in strange company. It was a feeling she hoped would pass.

  As they settled in, the trio unpacked sleeping bags and rolled out their kits in the den with Natalie. Getting comfortable, Marco picked up a flask and took a swig of something that made him wince.

  "Listen, if we're gonna be haulin’ you out of here in the morning, there's some things you're gonna need to be smarter about." Natalie started to retort before catching herself. It was true that she had been on her own and in hiding for the majority of the outbreak. Most of the information she had was second-hand, through various other survivors she had passed on her way from place to place. She hadn't paused to consider how little she might actually know.