by W. A. R.
“Don’t you think it’ll just get harder to cope with? I mean all of it? The world will never be the same. It will only get worse from here.” George said, changing the subject and he heard Brian chuckle as George’s light landed on two more Biters against the fence. Of course it wouldn’t escape Brian’s notice.
“Geez, Debbie Downer. Just how to you figure that?” he asked, turned to rid the fence of the two Biters.
“Laws of probability, my friend.” He smiled at Brian, watching more calmly now as Brian finished the Biters. Brian wiped his sweat covered brow with his forearm before turning to George.
“You are such a pessimist.” He chided George. George laughed lightly.
“I am not; I am simply a realist.” He replied, turning the flashlight to the left where the previous Biter had been killed. There stood another Biter, his rotting fingers reaching, his vacant eyes searching in the dark past the light of the flashlight. George’s stomach dropped as he watched a frown appear on Brian’s face.
“Something isn’t right.” He said quietly, killing off the Biter quickly and turning to Miles, who was still quiet and stock still.
“Shhh…You hear that?” he asked them in a soft whisper. They froze in spot, listening to the wind around them rustle the leaves in the trees. The smell of rotting flesh that had cooked in the sun stunned them. Distant moans began to fill the air. George swallowed roughly, clicking off his flashlight as Miles ran quickly and quietly to the end of the driveway. It was only a moment before he ran back as fast as he could.
“Get the girls and get in the trucks now!” he exclaimed in a loud whisper and immediately they began rushing to the house, George’s mind running wild. He already knew what Miles had seen. But the bigger question was why they were heading in their direction?
Chapter Eight
Kyle sat on the porch, watching as Nana, Papa, and Cassie were walking back towards the house. They had been doing rounds along the fence lines, leaving Kyle sitting on the porch in his own thoughts. He watched as Papa took off his cap and ran his coat sleeve along his forehead, removing any residual sweat that had gathered on his brow. Kyle scowled and then sighed, kicking at some of the dirt that had gathered on the wooden porch. He was irritated and had opted out of going to the fences. Cassie had looked at him worriedly, wondering what had been on his mind but never asking. He was grateful for that, because he hadn’t felt like talking. He had just wanted to be left alone, and now that he had been, he realized he was just as bad, if not worse off than he was before.
“There were more than usual today… and during the day no less.” Papa pointed out, scratching at his silvered beard. Nana’s grey eyes scanned the tall fences and the trees and old cars that steadied the fence, and she sighed, feeling the weight of the world on her own shoulders. Kyle studied her as she glanced between both of her grandchildren and then her husband. He felt sorry for her, and Papa both. He knew that at some point they would be just too old and fragile to continue and would succumb to that which is evil incarnate: Biters. It was twisted really, how these creatures went about and Kyle hated them. He hated them so much that anger consumed him at the very thought of them. Needless to say, he was incredibly moody as of late.
“It worries me some, Jackson….”she trailed off as she leaned towards Papa and whispered something in his ear. Cassie suddenly looked uncomfortable and Kyle felt the anger hit him again. He knew what she had said; he wasn’t ignorant. ‘especially with Amber and Brian still gone.’ Yeah, they should have been back sometime that day, but it was nearing evening and there was still no sign of them. Kyle wasn’t sure why he was so angry; he was smart enough not to hold onto any expectations when it came to the people in his life.
When the outbreak began, Uncle Brian had rushed into the house of his best friend, Nolan, where he had been staying that night. ‘We have to go.’ He had said, rushing past Nolan’s family who was hysterical. Kyle wasn’t sure why, or what was really going on, and so he began kicking and screaming, attempting to fight his Uncle Brian in order to help his best friend, who was clinging to his mother crying. How could he leave his best friend like that? Still he fought, at least until he was thrown into the backseat of his mother’s car, next to his mother. One look at her and new fears came into focus. Her face was bloodied and purple under the orange streetlight, and her arm was gently wrapped around her ribs while she wheezed. She looked at him confidently and without a word, opened her arm to him. He curled into her side in the backseat, into a tight ball and cried with everything he had.
It wasn’t fair.
Sure, you think that every eleven year old boy says it isn’t; but that night wasn’t fair. Couldn’t they have helped Nolan and his family? Couldn’t they have saved them? He had asked his family that very question and the only answers he received were shameful looks from his uncle and ‘You were the most important thing in the world at that moment. We didn’t think clearly.’ He knew how she had meant it, as she was his mother, but he still didn’t understand it. And it was that lack of comprehension that angered him. Ever since then he had been distant; growing even more so with every death they informed him of (he had never witnessed it) and with every familiar face chomping at him through the fences every day.
He knew Nolan hadn’t made it; a fact that neither his mother nor his uncle knew about. Once things quieted down after the outbreak, he and Cassie had gone fishing, Cassie, of course in charge. They had been there for a little while when they heard a rustle off to the left. They had easily set down their fishing poles and upon turning and searching for the source, knives at the ready, he watched as Nolan’s rotting corpse wondered out of the tree line and towards the pond where they were, alongside two other Biters. ‘We have to get out of here’ he vaguely remembered hearing Cassie tell him, but all he felt was cruel hatred and a sharp pain behind his nose that accompanied a usual onslaught of tears. ‘Kyle! What are you doing?!’ She had exclaimed, but he didn’t hear her. All he heard was the roar of blood in his ears and the pounding of his own heart. Cassie had appeared beside him, pushing him out of the way of an oncoming Biter that he hadn’t seen, shoving it back and stabbing it. The Biter went limp and fell, dragging Cassie down with it. She shrieked and began trying to jerk her knife out of the Biter’s skull but to no avail. Kyle didn’t care; his only focus was Nolan, who was getting closer and closer with each passing second. ‘Kyle!’ she exclaimed as the other biter made its way towards her. Kyle blacked out, allowing his rage free reign over his body. Realizing Kyle wasn’t returning to aid her, she began searching around her frantically. Her hand stumbled across an old abandoned boat oar that had been used to get to the little island in the middle of the pond. Before she had been able to get to it, the Biter had tripped and fell on her, snapping it’s disgusting teeth at her. She pushed it back with all of her might and squirmed, her hand trying to grip the oar through the grass and dirt. Finally grabbing the oar alongside a handful of dirt, she slammed the broken end through his ear. The Biter instantaneously stopped moving and she shoved it off of her with all of her strength, jumping to her feet. Kyle stabbed Nolan in the stomach, shoving him back, and yet he still kept coming. Tears began falling down his face in rivers as he removed the blade and forced it into Nolan’s chest. ‘Why won’t you die? Where were you?!’ he had screamed at the emotionless Biter as Cassie stood still and watched, crying at the scene before her. Kyle shoved Nolan down and gripped his shoulder, forcing him to lay in the dirt as he stabbed him repeatedly; arm, torso, chest. The crunch and squishes of blood and bone breaking and meshing together made Cassie sick. Finally, he brought the knife down into his skull and stopped, breaking down into sobs. ‘Where was I? I am so sorry…’ he cried to the lifeless corpse.
He had changed since then, and Cassie remained the only one who knew, promising to keep the scene between them. They did have to explain that they had come across some Biters, thanks to the residue on their clothing, but had disposed of the tattered body that was Nolan.
; “It’ll be okay, dear. I am sure they will be back tomorrow.” Papa assured her, wrapping a secure arm around her shoulders. She smiled up at him and he and Cassie both grew sad. They would never be able to have what their grandparents did. Their family could be the last of mankind, and even if they weren’t, who could raise a family in a world like this? Sighing, he felt Cassie’s presence in the chair beside him. He turned to look at her, wondering how she had gotten on the porch without his knowing of it.
“You ok?” she asked him, and like most times, he wanted to break down and tell her everything that was storming through him. He felt lost, scared, and alone; but he never told her. Instead he always put on a strong face and promised her that everything was just fine. He shrugged and she nodded, watching him intently. “What do you miss most?” she asked, a small smile playing on her lips.
“I don’t want to play that stupid game.” He grumbled. It was a game they all played whenever they were feeling down. They would list things from before that were no longer readily available and share memories about said things.
“Running water.” Nana piped up, grinning mischievously as she made her way up the stairs, walking towards the porch swing to have a seat, Papa right behind her.
“Oh that one was too easy.” Papa chided her playfully. “I remember when a certain little boy loved taking a bath so much that for the better part of the day he refused to put clothes on.” Everyone began giggling, and Kyle felt his heart lighten a little.
“Or what about that time Brian and his friend Thomas were passed out drunk on the recliners?” Nana began, turning to Cassie and Kyle. “You know, I had to bring in the water hose and soaked them down to get them up and out of the house?” This made Cassie laugh harder, and Kyle smiled a bit more.
“Electricity.” Cassie said softly, a big grin on her face. Papa’s grin grew.
“You’re Uncle Brian was once working on the washer and dryer and touched his screwdriver to the wrong place. He flew back against the wall; I swear his hair was out to here.” Papa laughed heartily, expressing his exaggeration with his rough hands. Nana laughed.
“Oh you have no room to talk. While trying to light the butane furnace, he forgot how long the pilot was on and it blew up in his face.” She began laughing hard, causing Cassie and Kyle to giggle. “He fell back against the wall, eyes this wide, with no…no eyebrows or eye…eyelashes.” By then, she was laughing so hard she was breathless.
“And all you did was laugh at me then too.” He accused her, chuckling in spite of himself. He then turned his inquisitive eyes to Kyle, who sat quietly, watching the interaction between his grandparents. “Care to help me chop some wood?” he asked Kyle before looking up at the darkening sky. “S’pose it’ll get cold tonight. May just rain.” Kyle stared at the old man fondly.
“Sure.” The boy grinned, standing easily while turning towards the steps. Papa stood, not as easily, but with as much grace, and they both began around the back of the house.
“Cassie and I will gather up a few cans of beans and start a fire for the fish.” Nana called to them, ushering Cassie in the house and closing the door silently.
Kyle edged towards the ax that leaned against the side of the house, determined to be the one chopping. He couldn’t allow his grandfather to do the heavy work; besides, he wasn’t a kid anymore, not in his mind. In his way of thinking, he had to become a man during these rough times, and that included stepping up and doing anything that needed to be done. He figured that would be what his grandfather expected him to do, and his uncle. Sometimes it saddened him to think of his fatherless life, but at other times his relationship with the other men in his life seemed to make up for it. He asked Cassie about it from time to time, and she honestly didn’t think anything about it. She would remind him how proud everyone was of them and that father or no father, they were good people, and they had their mother to thank for it. He would agree, wholeheartedly, it was just…sometimes, he needed to be reminded. Gripping the end of the ax with his left hand, he brought the base up to his right and carried it over to the log that his Papa had set up on the stump. He was now watching the sunset off in the distance as a few moans were heard in the distance. He sighed. Kyle looked up at the old man dubiously.
“You know, I am worried about your mother and Uncle.” Papa said thoughtfully and calmly, almost as if he weren’t worried at all. Kyle swung the ax down, splitting the wood half-way through. He placed his foot on the log and pulled back on the ax, freeing it from its restrictions and raising it over his head again.
“I thought you were supposed to tell me not to worry and make me feel better.” He teased the old man softly. His Papa turned and looked at him, a twinkle in his eye.
“Am I?” he asked as Kyle swung the ax down again, finishing the log. Papa leaned down and placed anther log on the stump. Kyle raised the ax back.
“Well,…yeah.” Kyle said, swinging the ax down. A loud crack resounded through the yard as the log split in two. Kyle beamed up at the man, and the man smiled back.
“Well, well,…look at you. You’re getting good at this.” Papa chuckled, setting up another log. Kyle grinned, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. His arms no longer got sore from chopping wood, and his small muscles were becoming more defined. He hoped to be as strong as his Uncle Brian one day; although he knew that day was a long ways off. “And by the way, I am a wily old coot. I can say whatever I like. I figured you knew that by now.”
Kyle gave the man a pointed look, smirking and raising the ax over his head. “Papa, I know you enough to know that you are more than just a ‘wily old coot’ or whatever.” Papa’s eyebrows raised in feign surprise.
“Is that so?” he asked, his voice raspy. Kyle swung down, splitting the log halfway down. He reached forward to dig the ax out of the log. What was his grandfather getting at?
“Yep.” Kyle grunted, jerking the ax out and steadying the log. He raised the ax once more. “I know you wouldn’t tell me you were worrying unless you were trying to get me to talk.”
The old man nodded. “If that’s what you think, son. I couldn’t very well be worried about my own children.” He mouthed off as Kyle finished off the log. Kyle shot him an icy glare, the grey eyes he inherited reflected back at him; his uncle and himself had inherited them from Papa. Slowly, Papa smiled before setting another log on the stump. “Last one.” He told the boy as he raised the ax. The man turned away, staring off into the sunset and the boy watched him closely before he couldn’t take it anymore. Quickly he dropped the ax by his side.
“Ok, fine. Maybe I am worried too. But that doesn’t mean anything.” Kyle babbled, a flush crawling up his cheeks.
“Oh?” the man asked, looking at him sideways. Kyle shrugged, feeling the tension grip him tighter.
“No.”
“Ok.” The man said calmly, and Kyle went to raise his ax again, then stopped.
“I just mean that, i…it’s not like I expect them to come back or anything.” He said quickly, shrugging once again, feeling confused. Even as the words left his mouth they hurt; they were lies. He did expect them to come back to him. How could they not? They had survived the end of the world, so how could they get overtaken in something they had already conquered? It made no sense, he thought, they had to come back and that is what hurt him.
“You don’t?” Papa asked him, and though he should have felt shameful, he didn’t. Papa never made him feel that way.
“No…I mean…well….it’s just that…what good is it to expect them back when…I don’t know…they might not?” he stumbled over his words. Papa studied him for a moment and Kyle shifted his feet nervously. He wanted to be strong, but every day he questioned what that meant. Did that mean he had to end the lives of people he once knew, which happened to be something that continued haunting his mother and his uncle, or did being strong mean something as simple as doing what could be done to provide for his family? He wasn’t sure. They had lost so much, so many people, he wasn’t sure
if he could lose the most important people to him. At eleven, he knew he was angry and possibly a little emotionally unstable. It wasn’t because he was misunderstood, and it wasn’t fabricated in the least…no, he was unstable due to fear and anger. What kid goes through what he had gone through, had witness what he had witness?
“Faith…” Papa began, taking the ax from Kyle and holding it in his feeble hands, “Faith does amazing things, son.” With that, he raised the ax with some force and brought it down, splitting the log smoothly in half. Kyle watched in amazement as the old man handed him the ax back, breathing heavily. He pointed a finger at Kyle, whose eyes had widened. “Always remember that.” He said before leaning down to gather split logs. Kyle leaned the ax against the house and began doing the same. His grandfather always had a way to find reasoning in anything, to ease his mind, and yet still, the pain was there, and he knew it always would be. After the logs were all gathered, they began walking towards the front of the house. “There will be times when you lose most of it,” the man said after a moment of silence, “but always keep a small part. It does amazing things, and not just for everyone around you, but,” he paused touching Kyle’s shoulder with his free hand before they went up the stairs. Kyle looked at him. Papa poked his chest, gesturing to his heart. “It does amazing things for your soul.”
It was then that the very distant sounds of gunshots were heard ringing through the air. They were so distant, you almost couldn’t have heard them.
1….
2…
3…
Finally, 4…
Kyle felt as if he were going to be sick. He swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall as both he and Papa looked towards the initial direction the shots had echoed from. He heard the old man sigh beside him.
“Just keep a little faith, son.”
Cassie watched as Nana began readying the fish that they had caught earlier that day. Fishing was routine, every other day or so, they would make their way to the pond and catch enough fish for a day or so. The pond had been running low on biting fish as of late, however. The thought saddened Cassie, as fishing was one of her more likeable activities of the day. Fishing offered her time to sit and reflect on life in general while still functioning as a useful agent on the home front.