by W. A. R.
He felt like a new person.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so good. He stepped from the bathroom, a hitch in his step, the only sound coming from the hollow banging of his boots against the tiled floor. He ran his hand across his face and through his hair, wondering what his next move would be. It felt odd, having his long hair and beard gone in the time span of an hour, but oh did it feel good. He smiled to himself; and for just a moment, the brief thought that he might come back from all of the hell he had been through and would go through, that the person he was had somehow managed to survive through the hell he had endured entered his mind and it was a satisfying thought. The thought went away just as briefly as it had come, and as he rounded the corner, heading towards his truck with two bags of extra provisions in one hand, he froze.
A man stood, crowbar in one hand, gun in the other, peering in to his truck, under his truck, and around his truck. The man wore an old ball cap, his hair longish. He was tall, at least six feet to Miles’s 6’3. His stance was protective, attentive, and in every sense of the word determined. His cheeks were flushed red from the heat, or from anxiety, Miles wasn’t sure. There were, of course, blood stains on his clothing, but not very much, as if he had bathed recently. Miles hid his weapons under his passenger’s seat and under the backseat as well. As long as the man didn’t open his doors, Miles wouldn’t be thought of as a threat. Or, at least he didn’t think that he would.
No sooner had that thought left his mind did the man place his hand on the driver’s door handle, pulling it toward him and swinging the door open. The man leaned into the truck, searching for any signs of life. Miles immediately dropped his two bags and began reaching for his gun when he saw a Biter closing in on the man. He paused, momentarily caught up in the scene before him. His heart slammed against his ribs, sounding like wild African drums in his ears as he watched the Biter move. The Biter was dragging its left leg behind it, shoeless, and skin hanging from the right knee. The flesh from the left leg had done tapered off from being drug across the rough concrete. It was once a man, he assumed, with the short hair and what had once been a navy blue dress shirt. An eye was missing, as were its lips and two of its fingers. Nonetheless, despite its disabilities, the Biter still came toward the man as if nothing were at all wrong with it. It astounded Miles. The Biter was within two yards of the man, snarling with obvious hunger, when in just and instant, the man dropped his gun, gripped each end of the crowbar and rammed it into the Biter’s skull. It was almost effortless. The Biter fell limp to the ground, slack jawed, while the man pulled free the crowbar in one swift movement. He wiped the residue from the Biter on his pants leg, grimacing as he did so, and saying something that Miles could not quite hear.
Miles felt his breathing quicken, and his blood began roaring louder in his ears. He understood that confronting someone in that sort of situation would prove to be tricky, if possible at all. He had no idea what type of person he was, or if the man would listen to reason. He slowly pulled his gun from its holster, one of the matching guns that Carlos had given him, when the man turned to face him, his eyes settling on him. In the split second that Miles hesitated in his approach of the man, he heard a loud, hollow banging that accompanied the feel of his skull basically exploding. White light burst into his vision, and quickly vanished as everything began to spin, a searing pain overwhelming his confused mind. The faint sound of metallic clanging reached his ears as he watched an aluminum baseball bat fall to the tile rang in his ears as the ground rose up to meet him. He welcomed the darkness as it overtook him, submerging him into unconsciousness, or even death, and he welcomed the thought.
Chapter Three
The faint sound of Zeus’s breathing echoed throughout the baptismal tank, making them seem louder than they were. It had been an hour and all Amber could think about was Regina and George. Their screams still rang out in her ears, and she willed herself not to cry. She closed her eyes tightly, steeling herself from the pain, guilt, and regret that followed her thoughts of them. Throughout the past few months, she had learned to harden herself against certain situations and the emotions that came with them. She had not done much that she could regret, at least not yet, and she held a sense of pride in that acknowledgement. However, since she had only been out into the ‘new world’, for lack of a better name, a total of three times including her current time, she knew that there was a long road full of it ahead of her. She opened her eyes, shifting slightly to get a little more comfortable in her limited area and stared once again at the blackness above her.
She worried that she would lose herself, and in the end forget the person that she had once been. She had been a good person; she was humble, brave, polite, outgoing, honest (but not brutally so), and above all a good mother and friend. Now, she doubted everything she had once prided about herself. Her children were becoming distant from her, acting out by focusing on nothing but practice. They practiced their hand to hand combat, worked their reflexes and muscles vigorously; hell, they were practically experts with their bows. Her son was angry with her. Cassandra, or Cassie, was 16 and wasn’t angry, really. Instead, she was incredibly quiet and Amber was unsure why. Kyle was all of eleven years old and he constantly wanted to leave what had become their home and help gather materials and food that they needed. Amber refused to let him. Instead, she made him stay, patrolling the grounds and securing the safety of the family within the fences.
The place they had made their home was a two story house about two miles past their original home. They had chosen that home wisely. Their original home wasn’t as safe as they needed it to be. Yes, it was down a back road, and yes, there were plenty of woods surrounding it; however, it was simply too close to town with no barriers between the house and any Biters that would wonder up. And so, down the dirt road past their house, amongst the woods sat the two story house. It was further from town, with a tall fence surrounding the house complete with a wrought iron gate for an entrance. It was perfect. It had plenty of room for any situation, they were far enough from town to not have to worry about the Biters overwhelming them, there was plenty of yard space for a garden, and any vehicles that were acquired during runs. The house’s fence kept any Biters as bay until someone could kill them through the fence, and some sturdy trees were cut down and sectioned off along the fence as a means for extra stability, cars also lining the fence. They were taking no risks on the fence coming down. The house had a well, one that cycled off of a fresh water spring within the two miles of their old spring. Hunting game was an option as well. If someone needed to hunt, all they needed to do was leave and go anywhere from the new place to the old place. There was nothing but woods between the two. All that they had needed to do to secure it was clear out any Biters in proximity, get razor wire and barbed wire from the abandoned feed store, and set it along the tops and bottoms of the fence, and board up windows to keep any lights from being noticed at night.
As mentioned, it was perfect. Almost too perfect, as it led for Kyle to become anxious to get into the action, and Amber wasn’t too sure how to handle that situation, nor that of Cassie. She worried Cassie was depressed, or at least more affected emotionally from the entire situation than she was letting on. Every morning, as soon as dawn broke out from behind the clouds, sending bursts of pinks, oranges, and reds across the sky, they were up, checking the fences and fighting, excelling in their imaginative combat. Their reflexes were phenomenal compared to many. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t killed Biters before. They did every day along the fence line, but it wasn’t all of the hostile, overwhelming adrenaline rush one got when out of familiar territory. But they had become so resilient that Amber feared they would lose their benevolence, forgetting the morals and ethics they were taught as children. Amber wanted them to defend themselves and be able to fight well sure, but she also wanted them to make a difference and to understand that they weren’t fighting the monsters that had once hidden under their beds. They were fighting parasitic hum
ans; new monsters that took on familiar faces. The new civilization that was created after these dangers diminished would need good, morally sound leaders; and she wanted her children to have both the experience of dealing with their fears that made them wiser as well as an understanding that decisions were hard to make in any sense. She wanted them to have the option to be one of these leaders, and to teach others the kindness they had learned; otherwise, it might as well remain the living hell they were already in.
Amber was glad she had refused Kyle’s insistence to join her, after what had happened with Regina and George. She very well could have lost him too….would have, and her heart weighed too heavily already to even consider that notion.
Zeus’s low growl from the back floorboard of the car alerted George that they were not alone. He slowly turned his head, afraid he would see his own demise if he moved too quickly. Amber glanced over at George, her stomach twisting nervously. She wasn’t sure why; she knew him. However, it had also been such a long time since she had seen any other living souls around, aside from those she was already accustomed to. She watched as his eyes widened in surprise and fear when Zeus’s growl kicked up a notch and he bared his teeth.
“Don’t make any sudden moves and everything will be ok. He’s just feeling you out, seeing if you mean any harm.” Amber said before glancing over her shoulder at the brown and white dog in the back. “Easy Zeus.” she commanded and immediately he fell silent, but he never took his eyes from George. George looked at Amber as she took a hard left, avoiding a Biter that had wondered into the street before them. He swallowed hard.
“He’s been in this car the whole time you were in the store?” he asked, as if it made absolutely no sense. Amber glanced at him, eyebrow raised as if daring him to challenge her.
“Yes.” She replied calmly, seeing Zeus ease onto the seat in the back, visibly more relaxed with Amber’s calm communication with the stranger.
“Why?” he asked, and Amber considered this. It was a decidedly sound question in view of the circumstances. She glanced around at all of the abandoned houses and sighed before squeezing the steering wheel.
“Everyone needs a companion. He just happens to be mine.” Amber replied simply. Everything was silent for a moment while George absorbed everything that had happened within the time span of an hour. He eased his forehead into the palm of his hand and Amber felt her heart tug a little in response. She was unsure of what he had lost, and she wondered why she even considered it so logically and void of emotion. If she had lost the most important things to her, she would be devastated, and logic be damned she would do whatever she could to fix it. She thought of her family, a family that was okay when she left. She knew George couldn’t say the same. That thought alone made Amber ache from empathy, and more than a little anxious to get home.
“Regina is at a small farm. It was old man Sutherland’s place before all of this happened. We figured it had a fence, a nice little sturdy cabin, land, and a lake with plenty of fish, so it should have been safe and plentiful. Hell, it probably still is, and she is probably okay. She is strong, so I am sure she is.” He said all of this as if trying to convince himself of it. Amber turned left quickly, remembering where old man Sutherland’s place had been. Things became quiet once again; the only noises being made were from the tires rolling across pavement and Zeus’s shifting in the backseat to get a better look out of the window. Amber’s thoughts drifted to a wondering of what weighed so heavily on George’s mind as she put a little more pressure on the gas pedal. The sparse trees became thick wooded forests as Stateline road turned led away from Thurston. Cars and Biters were no longer precariously left along the road, and Amber breathed a sigh of relief. “I have been gone for two weeks.” George continued, his deep voice jolting Amber in surprise.
She turned to him, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Two weeks?” she asked.
He quickly glanced away from her. “Yeah.”
She shook her head, slowing down to avoid a tree that had fallen across the road. “Where are your weapons? Food? Water?” she asked, disbelief dripping from every word.
He tossed her a sad glance before turning back to the window. “I haven’t had anything in two days. Everything else I have used up or is just not any good. I was prepared to die today.” He replied simply, and for the first time Amber saw the bags and dark circles under his eyes. She saw the blood that covered one side of his head. His shoulders slumped with the metaphorical weight of the world upon them. He was absolutely exhausted and Amber tensed.
“Have you been bitten?” Amber asked and she brought her right hand to grip the steering wheel while her left hand released it before she brought it to her waist, gripping the handle of the screwdriver that stuck out of her pocket. She suddenly became angry with herself for not asking or checking out the possibility of that situation sooner.
“No!” he vigorously shook his head and eased away from her a little once he saw her hand gripping the screwdriver. “No, I haven’t been bitten. Although a part of me wishes I had been.” For a long moment Amber studied him before finally believing him. She relaxed some, removing her hand from the handle as she eased once again onto the gas. “When we first got there, we secured the house and made sure those…whatever you call them…weren’t there. We had enough food and water, thanks to the Sutherland’s canning and their well, that if we rationed everything, we could make it a while. And we did. We lasted for a few months. When we saw that we would be needing stuff soon, I decided I would make a trip into town and find whatever I could.” He began shifting nervously in his seat, his fingers twisting together, almost as if he were in physical pain. “I went back a week ago. It was about an hour after daybreak, I think. I was in the thicket across the road, two big bags on my shoulders. It was sparse, and it wouldn’t have lasted us a month before we would have to go out again. Anyways, I had parked the truck I drove down the road so I didn’t bring any attention to the house.” He hesitated, and Amber felt as if he were trying to explain himself, as if he had done some horrible thing and needed to reassure himself.
Amber could relate. She had to repeatedly reassure herself that she had no choice but to kill Biters. Biters that had once been a friend of hers, a cousin, an uncle; Amber believed that trying to survive in what had once been a small town was harder than it could be anywhere else. In Thurston, everyone had known everyone; it was that kind of town. When it should have only taken you fifteen minutes to run to the local store get what you need and come back home, it usually took an hour because you would always run into someone you knew and more than likely grew up knowing. Everywhere you went, a friendly face was there. And now, the rotting faces of family and friends were everywhere, haunting those who survived. Maybe she would eventually lose what was left of her sanity, as she was well on her way. And she was okay with that; after all, the hope for a brighter future rested in the hands of her children, not in hers.
“So I stood there.” George finally continued, staring at the long stretch of road before them. There were so many questions going through Amber’s mind that she wanted to ask, Where was his truck; his provisions? Why was he obviously racked with guilt?, but she decided against asking any of these things. She would wait until he was finished before she fleshed out her concerns. Glancing again at him she saw that he was oblivious to her now, his focus on the road before them. He rubbed his palms together. “I heard moaning; it was a desperate moan that came from those monsters, the kind that will make you stand stock-still and send shivers up your spine. So I looked around, seeing if there was anything out of the ordinary…when I saw it.” He stopped and heavy apprehension gripped Amber. She held back her distaste for hearing any more of the story. “Bobby…Bobby was tied to the fence. But…But it wasn’t h..him anymore…” George had started crying, the tears heavy and flowing from his eyes freely. “He was one of those…those THINGS…” he all but growled in anger. His hands were balled into fists and were pressing against either side of his neck. H
is eyes were tear-filled and wild. “And while I stared at him in horror, Regina came out of the house with the pistol I had left her to protect herself and Bobby with. She walked towards him, as if she were on a mission and before I knew it she stood in front of him. He snapped at her, his hands trying to pull free of their confinement. She looked at him for one long moment, and I wish…I wish I knew what she was thinking then….” His voiced crack with emotion and he paused before continuing. Amber took the moment of silence to release a shaky breath, her emotions warring inside of her. She had to keep them in control because she couldn’t afford to show weakness. But the story saddened her beyond belief. She had known Bobby. He was Cassie’s age, a friend of hers. “She raised the gun…and shot him. She just shot him….with no emotion at all. And she just turned and walked back into the house and…just left him there. She did this like he was a damn animal. She had more emotion watching Old Yeller get shot than she did shooting her own son. I left…” he look at Amber with red eyes, pleadingly. “I left her there, and went back to the truck. I had to leave. I destroyed everything I had except for my gun, which has one bullet in it. I drove the truck into a pond a few miles back and walked the rest of the way to the store. I was so mad, so devastated, I wasn’t thinking straight. She was my wife and I couldn’t be around her after that. I still don’t know if I can. I mean, he was this monster, so I understand having to do what she did, but she didn’t even care that she did.”