by Hawk, J. K.
“You scared the shit out of us.” She finally stuttered.
“Sorry about that.” I retorted as I slung my rifle out behind my back. “Didn't mean to sneak up on you.”
“Are you from Fort Rockland?” She asked and immediately Mia and I look at each other.
“No, actually, we were hoping that you were.”
“Sorry, No. My name is Heather, and this is Little Marky.” She said as she reached out and shook my hand.
“Looks like we're heading in the same direction.” I said after introducing Mia and myself.
“I had hoped we would of run in to others sooner, you’re the first we have seen in months.”
“Don't get your hopes up to soon, we still have quite the trek ahead of us.”
“I'd offer you some breakfast, but we ain't got much to offer. A few stale crackers and a can of - something.”
“Tell you what, breakfast is on us.” I offered as I hauled out some jerky and handed everyone a generous piece.
Little Marky gorged savagely upon the tough chunk of meat, as if he were a feral boy who hadn’t eaten in weeks, which wasn’t far from the truth. When he finished his piece he smiled up at me, a silent thank you for my generosity. I doubt he has seen much in his life, and if it wasn't for Mia, I expect our introductions would have fell south very rapidly. An armed man in this wilderness is something to fear, but a well fed and bruise free pregnant girl gives one a little hope that not everything in the world is shit. Just most things.
In return of my generosity, Heather stoked up the coals in her makeshift fire pit and brewed up some fresh pine-tea to wash down the dry meat. The liquid warmed and energized our bodies from the oppressive boreal-air, and as we relished in it our fears subsided and we began to converse. Nothing much of importance, mostly about the GFS.
“Do you really believe they built a secure fort?” She asked.
“Doubtful, but there is no harm in being optimistic.” I answered with a wink.
“Optimism is a rare commodity these days.”
“True, but just getting word from other survivors, organized survivors, is definitely a boost.”
She through me a quick smile before staring back down into her half-empty mug, but her smile did not initially fade away, a sliver of a smirk remained. I too was smiling, grinning ear to ear, as much as I tried to ignore this feeling it only burned hotter in my veins. I barely met this woman, so how could I have such feelings? How could I when I am infinitely devoted to Mia?
Mia? Her eyes seared into me with anger in jealousy. She could see the connection between Heather and I, for which she fumed silently to herself. So in a selfless gesture to ease her temper and reassure my love, I flashed a quick smile and leaned over to kiss her. Unfortunately she quickly turned her head, but still I made contact with the smooth flesh of her cheek. I fear that her depression may only grow deeper now, and I know not how to cure it…
The sun had broken over the pink horizon by the time we were done, and Heather packed up before we made our way out of the ravine and up onto the barren roadway. Four pairs of feet are hard enough to silence in the forest, eight pair would have been an impossibility. Unanimously we heeded the GFS’s advice and followed the beaten pavement.
“You seem more prepared than us, how about you take the lead?” she offered.
“I was heading for Union, I'm guessing it's only seven or eight miles from here.” I suggested.
“Union, what so special there?”
“These days, nothing.” I answered. “But my grandfather’s old farm-house is out that way. It should be secure, we can hold up there for the night, then start again in the morning.”
“So you know the area well?” she asked.
“Born and raised.” I answered with a smile.
As we moved on, Mia and the boy lagged a few yards behind Heather and myself, talking each other’s ears off like two little kids in a schoolyard. It was nice to finally see Mia talking, even if it was to someone else. Heather and I walked ahead, getting to know each other, along with innocent yet condemnable flirtation. Mia was well aware of this, her gaze burning into the back of my head for the entire day.
“So, where are you coming from?” I asked Heather.
“Canada.”
“Shit, you’ve been on the road awhile then.”
“We have.” She muttered.
“It’s odd that I hear no French accent.” I probed.
“Aimez-vous les accents francais?” She responded with a devilish smile.
“My mother’s side is of French decent, just don’t expect me to converse much. I speak very little of it.”
“I see,” she paused, “I wasn't born there, moved up from New York about eight years ago.”
“That’s quite the migration.”
“My husband got a job, at a paper mill. We couldn't pass up the money. Two years after the move I was pregnant with Marky, then Jason lost his job. We received an eviction notice the day before the outbreak was announced.”
“What became of Jason?” A stupid question.
“Trampled at the border when we tried reenter the country. The military was unable hold back all of those people. I was able to get through thanks to trucker who was heading south.” She said, yet her tone had become almost mournful.
“A trucker?” I pushed.
“A life-saver... And a life taker.” She wiped a single tear from her eye. “He just drove over all those people, I begged him to stop – but, it was for the best. The border was soon over-run, and all those people would have died anyway.”
“What happened to this trucker?”
“Dead.”
“Bitten?” I asked.
“No – I slit his throat, right after cutting off his balls.” She said with contempt.
I knew not to press the subject any further. So, I told her my story, and a bit of Mia's as well, being sure to leave out details I myself try to forget. And so we walked nonstop most of the day and arrived at the old farm-house a bit after sunset. Sadly, though, it had burnt down years ago. The assortment of bleach white skeletons strewn about the place was evidence that the area was overrun early into the outbreak. The last I had heard was that my Uncle Alfred took ownership of the land, and justifiably one of those carcasses may have been his. The sight of my child-hood memories turned to ash only deepened my depression.
Luckily though, the barn still stood, tall and strong. Moreover the loft remained full with bales of hay, untouched for years. We did not hesitate to build ourselves large and comfortable beds, Heather and Marky remained on the ground floor, while Mia and I chose to above. It was comfort, something we knew would not last for long, but we tried hard not to think about that.
continuance;
Luckily Heather had something substantial to feast upon this evening, two unmarked and rusty cans. We quickly cracked them open, eager to see what our bounty would be. However the dark gray goop inside could have been a number of things but the smell test unanimously found it to be a Cream of Something soup. She poured each can into a small pot that she had carried with her and I threw in the remaining jerky and dried fish without hesitation. It was a possibility that if we left early enough in the morning we could make it to Fort Rockland by nightfall, and a full stomach would be better than a barren one.
While sitting around the campfire, watching our dinner concoction brewing, Heather and I told more stories. Mostly get-to-know-you tales and every so often a few jokes thrown in to lighten the mood. Mia though, remained silent, huddled against me and fixated on the crackle of the fire. I gently ran my fingers through her hair, trying to reassure my love for her. But she failed to acknowledge it, and focused on the fire as she ran her own fingers through Nova’s fur.
During that long missed social hour I witnessed something that for a moment caught me off guard. Maybe it is just a side of survival I had not been accustomed to. Heather, still breast fed little Marky. Nutrition aside, it seemed all too foreign to me, a grown boy still suc
kling his mother’s breast. Even though this oddity baffled me, it also aroused me. Not the feeding itself, but just the sight of Heathers bare breast. Casually I squeezed my thighs together, hiding away my erection as I tried to think of trivial things. Hoping that Mia would not notice.
However it had soon become clear that Marky was not feasting at all, in fact he was holding the milk in. His cheeks bulged out as he sucked more and more, like a chipmunk trying to stuff its mouth with as many nuts as possible. Mia did not seem to notice, or just did not seem to care. I, however, could not peel my eyes away.
Then, Marky pulled himself from his mother’s tit with a slight pop, then turned and nonchalantly walked over to the fire and released his bounty into our stew. I choked back the gagging that ensued, trying hide my grimace. Meanwhile, Marky gracefully walked back over to repeat the process. Heather did not seem to notice my reaction, nor did she offer some comforting explanation. Instead she babbled on about some old movie she use to watch when she was feeling blue, “Gone with the Wind,” maybe. I wasn’t really paying attention.
The thought of consuming breast milk was revolting to me – Me? Sickened by the thought? What about all the things I have eaten over the years? It was naturally unnatural to me. Although I've now come to realize that our child may have to do the same thing. A new type of society, were ones bounty is everyone’s bounty. As shocking as it may be, this new society might just actually work, a custom that may bring people even closer together. Bring society back together.
Heather decided our half-and-half porridge had stewed long enough after another hour, so I reluctantly grabbed a few old hub-caps hanging from the barn wall to use as bowls. I watched the others as they began to eagerly slurp down what I had come to call, Survival Goo. I swirled my spoon around the bowl of slop, contemplating if I should actually try it. Surprisingly the smell was amazing, but smell can always be deceiving. The others were almost finished before I gained the courage to take a large gulp.
Immediately I picked up on the breast-milk as the hot broth washed over my tongue, it added an unusual sweetness. The canned-soup rendered a mild rancid yet nutty flavor, and in the back of the throat that fish in the sun too long taste. It was great, I think I even finished my bowl before the others. Yet Nova had hers gone well before any of us and desperately begged for more. After dinner we continued to sit by the fire and talk as the blanket of night swept over the barn, and an icy drop in temperature bared down upon us. Luckily the barn was good protection, I just pray we only need it for the cold.
“How far along is she?” Heather asked, looking down at Mia who was fast asleep on my lap.
“Seven, or eight months, I'm not too sure.” I answered.
“You both must be excited.”
“Her more than I.” She looked up at me in concern. “I’m scared more than anything.”
“Well, that's normal, having a child can be scary.” She reassured me.
“Yes. But this is the new age, and it is downright horrifying.”
“You will feel better once we reach Rockland.”
“I hope so.”
There was a moment of pause as our attention turned towards the fire. Marky had fallen asleep and Heather obsessively poked at the burning logs with a stick, listening to the chorus of crickets. The stars sparkled over us like angels watching from heaven, it was definitely a beautiful night. After a while Heather pulled out a small piece of paper from her pocket.
“We found this not long ago, on the outskirts of Bangor.” She said as she held out the same type of leaflet that was dropped down upon Mia and me. However this one was slightly different, more detailed. It spoke about how there are thousands of survivors who have reorganized and are now living and surviving together. It was a call for unity, a Global Federation of Survivors. Uplifting propaganda in the midst of a Zombie-Holocaust.
The leaflet also spoke briefly of human tests for a hopeful vaccination against the virus. “A Promising and Devastating Blow to this Global Plague.” it read. I doubted that any vaccine has been found, for which Heather seemed to agree. It was unlikely that any survivors, virologists at that, would still have the means and resources for such an endeavor.
Although Heather and I tried to keep a positive outlook, this new age has taught us to expect otherwise. Our positivity tends to be more for Mia and the boy, they above all others need something to look forward too. Mia may have already forgotten Christmas, and the boy has probably never experienced its joy. As commercial holiday’s go, it is one that I obviously miss.
We continued to chit-chat by the fire as the night drew on, but slowly Heather too began to drift off to sleep. But not me. I sit here with Mia fast asleep on my lap, stroking her golden hair through my fingers. It is so soft, like long strands of silk, so beautiful. She has the hair of an angel, and I feel peace just running my fingers through it. I could do this all night.
26th Day, 6th Blood Moon;
The moon was as dark as the night sky when my eyes snapped open well into the witching hour, the fire was now nothing more than a pile of glowing red-hot coals that gave off an unnatural shimmer underneath the blanket of night. Mia and I were too tired to carry ourselves up into the loft, so we simply drifted off with Heather and Marky beside us. A lone cricket, warding off the cold somewhere within the barn with a gentle chirp as his time slowly ended. But it was not the cricket that had awoken me, there was something else, something outside.
Gently I lifted Mia off my legs and slowly crept over to the fire-pit. Pausing for a moment, listening, trying to recall the noise that yank me out of my dreams. But, there was nothing, only a gentle and random pop from the fire. Carefully I tossed in a couple logs, not for warmth, but for light. It was most likely all in my imagination, but I had to be sure, I had to protect the group.
I tried to focus my eyes, to clear the watery murk that enveloped them and peer into the darkness through the recklessly unsealed barn-doors. Anxiously I waited, anticipating that any moment the fresh wood would take flame. Then, a single orange flare danced up between the edges of the logs. Not a large flame, but it was at least enough to see everyone’s face fast asleep around the fire-pit.
The anxiety of the unknown clasped down hard on my chest as I gaze back out into the darkness. The flames rose larger and hotter before me, casting more light upon us as it pushed back on the nights descending coldness. The earth just outside already blanketed with a layer of frost, and yet, it was still not enough to illuminate the desolate darkness that lay only a few feet further.
Slowly I began to cool my nerves, taking deep breath as I relaxed my tense muscles. It was all in my head, there was nothing out there but blackness. Just as I let down my guard, Nova’s head shot up from her own slumber, and there it was again. A faint but all too familiar, listless shuffle. Slowly and quietly I leaned back and grabbed my shot-gun that lay next to Mia, then gently I nudged Heather's leg with it. Two guns are always better than one.
She jumped up from her slumber, terribly startled yet completely alert.
“Shush.” I scoffed while pointing out into the blackness.
She quickly pulled her pistol from her coat and stared motionless out into the pitch-black murk. Another shuffle, and Heather heard it too. We needed more light, maybe it was just a skunk or raccoon looking for leftovers, I could only pray. I grabbed the unburnt end of a charred log out of the fire and chucked it into the blackness. The flaming wood illuminated the abyss for just a second before it was extinguished upon the dusty ground. Just enough light to make out the source of the mysterious shuffling.
A little old lady, still clad in her dirty nightgown, wobbled ghostly behind the blackness of night. Slowly I raised my shotgun up into her general direction as a precaution. However that one instance of light had burnt an image into my eyes like a spectral photograph. Leaving the faint and shadowy outline of her hanging desperately onto night’s ebony-canvas.
She had to be infected, Heather and I both knew it, but why did it not atta
ck? Our hesitation was not without just cause, what if she was still alive? Lost or delirious, just a feeble old woman who had auspiciously wondered by every obstacle and threat she has come across over the years. Yearning for one night’s sleep next to a warm fire, before the winters cold would finally end all of her suffering.
“Have you seen my kitty?” Arouse the sound of an old shrilly and decrepit voice from beneath darkness like a ghost lost in the land of the living.
“She's alive!” I exclaimed as I lowered the shotgun.
With imbecilic haste I moved to approach the confused old lady, only to be stopped by Heather's hand clasping down hard onto my shoulder. I instantly raised my gun, about to knock her back, an instinct one adapts in this world. But, I did not strike, instead I looked back into her eyes and could see the fear in them, the urgency for me to hold still.
“No, I've seen these before, shoot it!” She whispered, I looked at her in a moment of doubt, yet still raised my gun towards the shadow and pulled the trigger. Everyone jumped awake at the boom of the gun followed by the old wretch's thud to the ground. I took a deep breath as a sense of relief washed over me, relief which was short lived.
An ear piercing screech resonated angrily from the darkness and in a flash the old lady darted in through the barn doors and into the fire-light. One arm reached out for me, while her other arm was completely torn away at the shoulder by my shotgun blast. Everyone backed away from the old hag, except Heather, who with haste rose her pistol and fired a shot into its head. The wraith toppled back like a heavy corn-sack, falling directly into the fire, her nightgown and hair bursting almost instantly into flames.
Mia quickly rushed to my side, holding tight onto my waste for comfort as the black smoke of burning flesh rose from the fire-pit. Everyone remained silent for the moment, unable to look away from another close encounter of the infected kind. Too many times have we been woken in this horrific manner, and still one never gets use to it.