by Hawk, J. K.
Swiftly and with absolutely no remorse, I dragged him further into the darkness while allowing my blade to slice deep into his jugular. Blood spurted out and over my hand and a horrid gurgling escape his lacerated throat. He had no time to beg, no time to feel fear. Swift and lethal, without any suffering, which is my only regret.
“Billy!” A voice exclaimed from further down the line. It was unmistakable the voice of Big Paul.
Callously I dropped the body and swiftly made my way into the same direction. But I didn't have to go far, there he was, making his way towards poor Billy's corpse. Covertly I dropped down onto my knees and watched silently as he approached. Big Paul clung to the darkness and shadows, avoiding the light of the moon as best as he could. Obviously he was a skilled hunter, but not skilled enough. As he closed in I realized I was no longer afraid, in fact, I was cool and collected. So much that Big Paul walked by only a couple of feet away without ever noticing me. So I stood up and jammed the barrel of the M4 into the base of his back.
“Don't move.” I whispered and He stopped while slowly raising his hands into the air. His shotgun dropped to the forest floor with a loud thud.
“Big Paul?” One of his men called out, just as another blast echoed from within the cabin. Still, Tugger hit nothing but grass and dirt, however the assailants quickly grabbed cover to avoid another blast. I leaned closer to Paul, my lips just barely caressing his ear, breathing deeply before I spoke.
“This is for Mia, you piece of shit!” my voice now shaking with uncontrollable rage. Cocking my head towards the rest of the group, I called out.
“BIG PAUL IS DEAD!” and in an instant I was gone, dashing away from that beast and further out into the woods. At the same time the forest lit up with a succession of crossfire, which as calculated, pulverized Big Paul's massive figure. He did not scream once, or if he did it was consumed by the rapid cracks and pops of gunfire.
The men shouted inaudibly over the roar of their bombardment, which did not cease for a few of minutes. They moved into the light and towards Big Paul's body, never letting go of their triggers except to reload. Carefully I made my way back to the west, towards the boulder that I started from. The barrage ended abruptly when they were close enough to see their leader’s lifeless body on the ground. They all stood before him, shocked at the realization that their own bullets had ended his life, not mine.
Tugger release another volley from his cannon, hitting one of the men in the leg and dropping him to the forest floor. He screamed out in agony as the others opened fire back at the cabin. Shooting randomly in hopes of avenging BP, and their injured comrade. Softly I chuckled to myself, amused by their aggressive stupidity, but the humor soon faded. More movement, back to the south of the cabin. My eyes began to water as I stared into the darkness, desperately attempting to focus in on the obscured advancement. At first, I figure these new shadows to be the others Mia had mentioned, but how many more men could he have? Instantly my heart stopped, there had to be hundreds, maybe thousands of them. These were not Paul's men.
Without hesitation I bolted back towards the cabin jumping through the door as Paul's men continued their assault on my father’s fortress. My body shuddered in pain as more shards of glass and wood exploded from the walls and pierced my skin. My blood smeared across the wood floor, mixing into another dark and thick puddle.
Tugger lay on his back, not far from Mia's hideout, with a large and beastly gunshot wound to the gut. I froze in place, shocked at the sight of my fallen friend. But, he soon turned his head and looked into my eyes, easing my greatest fear. I crawled forward, staying low and out of sight. As I slid up beside him the barrage of gunfire from outside had turned away from the cabin, but did not cease. The dead had entered the yard and marched into a torrent of lead. Paul's men were greatly outnumbered, and were most likely running low on ammunition. They had no chance.
“Nothing can kill me,” Tugger said with a cough, “except, maybe a bullet, aye?” He chuckled as blood dribbled from lips.
“Jesus, Tugger. I'm sorry.” I responded.
“Can it, you've got nuttin to be sorry for.”
“We have to get you out of here.” I said in distraught. “There's a horde right outside!”
“I ain't goin nowhere, I'm all used up.” He said with another cough, and more blood spilled from his mouth. “Get Mia, get her the fuck out of here.” He said fervently. At first I didn't respond, we stared intently into each other’s eyes. I knew what I had to do, but, my faulty compassion held me back.
“It's been an honor knowing you my friend.” I finally said as I grasped his hand and a single tear fell from my eye.
“I'd be honored - if you granted this old fart one last request.”
“Anything, Tugger.”
“Don't let them get me.” He weakly squeezed my hand. “I ain't suited to be no goon.”
His hand let go of mine and drifted towards my holster, tugging at the pistol-grip. Choking on my own sobs I reached back and gentled brushed his hand away. Slowly I pulled the gun from my hip and stared down at it, unsure if I could actually grant his request. His hand reached up and gently touched my cheek.
“You’re a good soul.” He said.
Grabbing his old fishing hat I gently placed it over his face and held it there for a moment, as if to say goodbye with one last touch. Tugger slowly crossed his arms over his chest, then gave a quick nod. As soft as possible I placed the barrel of the gun to his forehead as Tugger took one last deep breath.
“Goodbye old man.” I whispered, then snapped the trigger back. It was over in an instant, but I had no time to grieve. No time to contemplate what I had just done. The front door flung open as one of BP's men fell backwards through it, firing randomly into the darkness outside. All thought was absent, my body moved swiftly on its own accord as I stood up and stepped towards the frightened hill-billy. He only glanced up at me for a second, just enough to see the barrel of my gun before I drove a round into his skull. Blood and brain splattered into my face, and I smiled, firing two more rounds into his already mutilated head.
Contemptuously I stared down at his lifeless form for a moment before I turned back towards Mia's hideout and dashed to pull the floor boards away. I found her covering her ears, eyes closed tight as she attempted to block out the deafening siege. I grabbed her shoulder and immediately she began to scream and violently flail her arms in fear. I leaned down closer, firmly pinning her arms back.
“MIA!” I yelled, and her eyes opened. “Keep your eyes closed, let's go!” She carefully slid out of the hole, eyes pinned shut. Nova followed, assuring Mia was within her sights the entire time. Swiftly we scurried to the other side of the cabin and grabbed our packs before making way for the back door.
The blasts from BP's remaining men were sporadic, mixed with a chorus of screams and shouts. They were in a fierce engagement with the encompassing horde. If it wasn't for BP and his men, it might have been us at the hands of this demon army. Those filthy men had become decoys, and would ultimately fall under Satan's wrath in the name of our retreat. Grabbing Mia's hand I pulled her out the back door and we darted into the woods just as a couple of Necrotics made their way around the cabin. I quickly fired off two shots with the pistol, the first straight through the forehead of the first, and the other round sliced through the second’s eye.
“What about Tugger?” Mia's eyes were now wide open, looking back at the cabin.
“He'll be fine, move it!” I commanded.
We were running again, trying to dodge boulders and branches as we perilously made our way up the mountain. We ran hard and long as the massacre below echoed amongst the trees. We tried not to look back as we made our way further out of harm’s way. Mia drastically slowed our escape, but we pushed on, ignoring the burning strain in our legs. But, eventually they gave out and we slumped down underneath a narrow outcrop of a rising ledge. Mia panted heavily, flinching at the echo of every gunshot and sporadic blood-curdling screams. I held h
er tight to me as Nova gently licked her face in the attempt to calm her nerves.
“What – What happened to Tugger?” She asked again, fearing the worse.
“I'm sorry, Mia.” I said with heartbreak. And so did hers as she began to whimper and sob. I could only squeeze her tighter, as if to try and release her sorrow. The war below seemed to be all but over, there were fewer screams and even fewer gunshots. It went on like this for another hour or so, the echoes of the final few being hunted down resonated about the mountain. Echoes of a diminishing slaughter.
We sit here as the night wages on, listening to the dead scour the forest for us. I began writing blindly about an hour ago, trying to retrace the day’s events and ignore the evil that lurked down below. A faint hue of light can now be seen creeping up over the mountain, it is almost morning, and I fear that I will find these words to be nothing more than chicken-scratch.
A few moments ago a group of dead passed by, not too far from us. Too close for comfort. We didn't see them, but even without the thumping of their footsteps and the occasional snarl, we would have still been aware of their presence. The putrid smell of rotten flesh filled out noses and hung in the air like an impenetrable fog. Thankfully they are unable to smell us, at least for now.
It will be slow going as we make our way south, staying up on the steep slopes and ridges to avoid any more hordes that may be in the area. The Appalachian Trail awaits not too far south of us, our path to safety, or so I hope. The choice has been made, it is time to leave, time to start our journey.
Bob Sprague was right.
6th Day, 6th Blood Moon;
We traveled for three days, an exhausting and near non-stop hike, before we reached Bigelow Mountain, and our point of entry onto the Appalachian Trail. We climbed up and across Bigelow's six peaks before heading back down and further south. There is almost no sign of neglect after all these years, aside from fallen trees and a thick carpet of decaying leaves, the trail itself is clearly visible underneath these ancient canopies. Although the trail has made our trek easier, it is not ideal conditions for a pregnant mother. But Mia has shown little strain during this arduous journey, she remains in good health, and that is all I can ask for.
Today we reached the first campsite just before sunset, one of many sites that dot the trail, and I decided we would rest for a day or two. Although the trail is better than the tangles of the forest itself, we find the hike becomes quite treacherous at times. Aside from obstacles such as boulders, and large exposed tree roots, we also have to navigate steep terrain littered with jagged rocks. One false step, and it's all over.
As I sit here writing this, Mia is sleeping up against a tree with Nova resting on her lap. Her golden blonde hair gently waivers in the afternoon breeze. Every day my love for her grows stronger and stronger, and no longer do I live with the needless guilt of stealing her innocence. I have come to accept that her innocence had long been raped from her. Long before I came along, and I just pray that I can restore a small fragment of all the happiness that she desperately deserves.
The last few days, aside from the battle at the cabin, have been fortunately uneventful. Yesterday, Mia startled a lone black-bear while she attempted to pee behind a tree. I had spotted the beast as it skillfully scurried up the same tree just moments before Mia darted out from behind it, her dingy pants still down to her ankles as she screeched like a banshee. Unlike old Scarface, this bear was more scared of her than she of it. It was quite humorous, however Mia does not find it as funny as I do.
Sadly though, we did happen across a sole Necrotic early this morning, feasting on a young moose, how it managed to catch the beast is still a mystery to me. Most likely the animal was sick or injured and long abandoned by its mother. It was disheartening to think of all the wasted meat before us, a moose roast seared on an open fire would have been a perfect morale booster. I dare not chance it now though.
As we closed in on the gluttonous demon, keeping ever so quiet, I began to see a look of concern cross over Mia's face. She was in some way familiar with this Blight before us, but was unsure. It wasn’t until the creature heard a twig snap below my foot that it whipped up to reveal a females blood-smeared face with sunken aged eyes.
“LILLY!” Mia gasped.
“Look away, Mia.” I said, and she turned away as the old-woman rose to her feet and slowly stumbled towards us. She was barely covered by a tattered nightgown, visible nude underneath, revealing a cadaver littered with bites and scratches. She had unfortunately become an all-you-can-eat buffet for a herd of Necrotics. Swiftly I snatched my bowie-knife from its sheath and proceeded towards her, only to be quickly stopped by Mia’s hand upon my shoulder.
Casually she grabbed the blade from my hand and slowly step towards the shambling hag. Grayish green fluid mixed with congealed moose blood drooled down from its mouth as she snarled and stretched her frail arms out for Mia. But, Mia did not waiver, cool and collected she matched the demons every step. Gracefully and wisely she moved herself into position, utilizing are the skills she has been forced to learn over the years without error and only precision. She was an elegant killer on a mournful hunt.
It's hard to describe, but Lilly had a sordid gaze of wonder, recognition, or maybe even helplessness. For a moment it appeared as if she were still conscious, lost in the black fog of this nefarious disease. But it was just a moment of delusion, a moment of misguided compassion. In an instant that moment vanished. Mia swiftly grabbed Lilly by the back of the head and plunged the blade up under her jaw and straight through to the base of her skull. A Perfect strike, swift and precise, like that of a scorpion.
The decaying shell of Lilly plopped to the ground, and the warmth of reprieve washed over Mia. The old retched bones before us was nothing of the caregiver Mia once knew, she knew that Lilly was and had long been dead. Another casualty our Lords ongoing genocide. Slowly Mia knelt down beside the remains of a past beloved and gently slid her hands over the eyes, closing them forever shut. Lilly was not her mother, nor was she a friend, she was but one of the few that has shown Mia a smidgen of compassion. And for that, Lilly will always have a place in Mia's heart.
“You’re finally with Amy.” She whispered. “I took her away from you, and now I give her back.”
Mia never shed a tear for Lilly, she was content with her death. A peaceful end to a tormented soul. Together we silently dug a shallow grave for Lilly’s remains, Nova assisting as well, digging fast and sloppy with her paws. Lilly resting place was left unmarked beneath a tall oak tree on the northern face of Bigelow Mountain. Her final resting place shrouded by a tranquil and pristine forest. May she rest blissfully in peace, for all of eternity.
8th day, 6th Blood Moon;
Rationing has become more difficult than I had anticipated, although under normal circumstances the dried fish and deer would have been enough, but these are far from normal circumstances. Just a few bites in the morning and at night for myself, however Mia is eating for two which is taking a heavy toll on our provisions. Nova on the other hand has become self-sufficient, finding her own food, mostly small rodents and the occasional frog. Hopefully she is able to round up some bigger game for us all, I fear we only have enough food to last us a few more days, maybe a week.
We have traveled to the point that The Corridor is intersecting with more urban areas, and exiting that shroud of security is becoming more and more frequent. Nervousness lingers upon me when the trail puts us right into the heart of a small town, but it is a necessity. Rather than large metropolises, it is more likely we will find others in these small villages. They are encompassed by thick forests, no blinding skyscrapers or dark subways, and generally only a handful of roads in or out. A secure location with multiple vantage points, a place for a community to be reborn. Hopefully tomorrow we will find a place like that.
I am so tired...
12th day, 6th Blood Moon;
Finally the trail intersected with old Route Twenty-Seven, now nothing more than
a crumbled relic of an ancient society, a testament to the fall of mankind. The last time I stepped foot on this section of road was towards the tail end of the initial outbreak. Towards the end of my journey to safety. However it was not the highway that I remember, no longer was it a path to life, but now resembled the road into hell.
A few hundred yards away hung an old road-sign, it's once bright green paint had all but peeled away, and the posts that held it upright were severely rusted to the point of crumbling. However, in its decay, the words were still legible. Faded with time, yet still clear as day, it was a sign sought by our own desperation. Within all of the corrosion was our upcoming destinations and they distances that we would have to incur.
Kingfield 5 Miles
Augusta 65 Miles
Portland 105 Miles
Kingfield was just the town I was looking for, a prime location for survivors, and even if it turned up empty then abandoned supplies is what we would seek. Mini-Marts, Hardware stores, and even restaurants should provide us with something. I just hoped for a simple bag of Dorito's, or even a can of Coke to ease my neglected cravings. But I would settle for a can of sardines and a warm skunky beer.
As we entered town the only sound that could be heard was that of the shallow Sandy River, which snaked its way for miles through Basset Valley. All of the buildings showed severe signs of neglect, decaying much like that of the dead. Doors hung loose and paint peeled away from the frames in long scraggily strips. Most of the windows were long ago shattered, either by the weather or possibly even looters. A ghost town like that of an old wild-west story, only these ghosts were real and hungry.
The local general-store is where we hoped to find some alternative foods for our aching bellies. How nice it would feel to finally have a big and healthy bowel movement, my lower intestines have been tightly bound into knots for the last few days. Dried meat and limited water has wreaked havoc on my insides. But at first glance our optimism faded, the place was in shambles, like most of the other building. The siding was pot-market with a multitude of bullet holes, and laying upon the front step was the dried out remains of a human skeleton, its flesh had been picked clean long ago.