Endgame (Book 1)

by W. A. R.

  After the sun had gone and twilight had long dispersed, bringing about the dark blanket of night, they all sat around the fire, night settling in, talking amongst themselves. They had all agreed not to discuss any of the details, especially not while the three children were in the room. They all sat in a semi-circle around the fireplace, and George leaned back on the palms of his hands and watched everyone around him. Amber was kissing the top of Kyle’s head, which was leaned against her, while Cassie rested her head in Amber’s lap. Elliot lay curled into Miles’s side, who, George noticed more and more throughout the day, was beginning to relax and show his true colors. George had to admit that the more he saw of the person Miles was, the more he respected him and liked the person that he was. He was beginning to understand why Brian and Amber trusted him as they did. Still, the man was hiding something; that much was obvious. Bobby-Jean and Jackson sat cuddled comfortably on the couch, while Shelly in the recliner behind Brian, rubbing some tension out of his neck.

  George felt the pain again at the sight of everyone. He kept remembering all that he had lost in order to get to that special place in front of the dancing fire light. It damn near tore him apart, even as he understood that he never had the completion that this family had. It hurt because…well, because he had at least had something good, at least for a little while. He glanced around the room, seeing that Miles had been watching him, dark brown eyes clashing with George’s gentle green ones. George quickly turned away, watching Amber as she stared thoughtfully at the fire. The orange light danced across her face as she sighed. It was silent, but not awkwardly so. It was a peaceful silence; it was the kind that had been lost and forgotten when the world went to hell.

  “So, we are the first humans you have come across?” George asked, quickly, averting his attention from the pain-filled heart of his that was soon becoming a black hole.

  Brian nodded. “Yep.” He sighed, tilting his head to the side to stare at the fire as well. “Been out a few times and this time…it was like humans were coming out of the woodworks.” He said, tilting his head back to grant Shelly better access to his tense shoulders.

  “You are the first ones I’ve come across as well.” Miles spoke up, catching George by surprise. “Well, the first ones that haven’t been infected.” He said thoughtfully. He turned and looked down at Elliot tenderly, avoiding everyone’s sympathetic eyes and curious intentions.

  “Same here.” George threw in, glad to have his mind on something else for a change. “I assume that it is because everything has quieted down.”

  “And everyone that did survive definitely knows how to now.” Jackson interceded. Bobby-Jean patted his knee supportively.

  Amber cleared her throat. “What if there are more than us out there?” Her voice was rough, and she glanced down at Cassie’s sleeping form on her lap. Oddly enough, the thought sent shivers up George’s spine.

  “Oh there is bound to be…” Bobby-Jean said softly, her words trailing off as she gathered understanding of Amber’s unspoken indication.

  “We need to be more careful. Not everyone is like us. Hell, maybe no one is like us after all of this.” Miles replied to her. Everyone grew silent and uneasy at this; everyone but Amber. She turned from the fire to look at Miles. They locked eyes for a moment before he turned back to Elliot. Amber smiled gently and after a moment, decided to speak..

  “That can’t be true. There may be some bad people out there, but surely not everyone is bad.” She said gently, as not to wake Kyle. Her words rang true in their ears. “If we can come out of this mostly intact, other people can too.”

  “Forever the optimist…”George chuckled, not missing the heated glare she tossed at him.

  “The dreamer of dreams…” Miles included, and both men began laughing. She began easing up to stand, waking Kyle and Cassie to go lie down. She gave both men a pointed look, the bruises on her face looking darker and more severe in the dim light. George winced without intention.

  “Better than thinking negative all of the time.” She retorted, her eyes darting between the two men.

  Brian took offense to this. “We are not negative; we are simply realists!” he exclaimed in mock irritation.

  Amber smirked at him. “Then go get ‘real’ and check the perimeter, bozo. That’ll give you your daily dose of a reality check.”

  Bobby-Jean and Jackson stood easily as did Shelly and Brian. Miles stood, gathering a sleeping Elliot into his arms and followed Amber up the stairs.

  “Fine.” Brian groaned in exaggeration. “I’ll go check the perimeter, but because I want to. Not because you said to.”

  Shelly turned to him from the foot of the stairs, her stare heated. “Just go check the damn perimeters and get back in here so we can try to catch some shut eye.”

  “I’ll come help, and I’ll keep watch tonight for a bit.” George offered, standing and stretching his cramped muscles. He watched as Amber rushed down the stairs to the kitchen with Shelly, Miles meandering down the stairs as well. Amber stopped at the entryway of the kitchen, eyebrows furrowed in worry at George.

  “Are you sure? I can keep watch for a while. I plan on being up for a little bit anyways.” She told him, motioning towards Shelly who stood behind her in the kitchen. Miles stopped at the bottom of the stairs and shook his head.

  “You need your rest.” Miles told her, running a hand through his hair before grabbing a rifle that leaned against the wall. “You were up all night keeping watch for us. We got it.” He told her firmly, slinging the gun over his shoulder. George grinned at her warmly.

  “You heard the man.” He said and she sighed, turning to retreat into the kitchen. They each then grabbed a sharply pointed pole and began making their way outside.

  The cool air hit George like a bullet, but it was refreshing. For a brief moment he closed his eyes and relished the feeling of comfort, cleanliness, and security that seemed to overwhelm him from his new home. It was nice, for just a moment, to not have to fight for their lives, to not worry or mourn over someone’s death. Very slowly, he opened his eyes, seeing that Miles and Brian had stopped beside him, inhaling deeply and appreciating the very things that George was amiring. After a moment of comfortable silence, they moved in tandem with one another. They spread out along one fence, climbing over old vehicles that were parked against the fence and surveying. There were at least ten Biters along the first side of the fence line. They went to work, and the feeling was so good. George needed to relieve some tension; the tension that came from his aching loss. Shove the sharp end of the pole through the skull of a monster and pull back; watch it fall lifelessly to the ground. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Ignore the sounds, the moans, the crack of metal destroying bone. Just repeat. It was possibly the best therapy that George had ever had.

  “Wonder why there are so many.” George noted to the other two men as they climbed down and began checking the next fence line. There were at least ten to fifteen more. He was grateful that they had taken off the dead Biters to another place earlier. They hadn’t burned them, just had taken them to an open field down the road a bit before the desecrating stink of death became too much. They decided that they would burn them at a later date, when it wasn’t so dangerous, or even whenever it was convenient for them to do so. Cassie had told him that the past few weeks the more and more Biters had been at the fences. It worried him some, although logically it made perfect sense: where there was food, there would be Biters.

  “They must be…” Brian paused, grunting as he stabbed a Biter through the fence. “…grouping…somehow.”

  Miles jumped down from the hood of a car and looked at the both of them. “There isn’t as much of a food source as there was in the beginning. They are animals, albeit slightly different.”

  “How so?” Brian asked as he climbed out of the bed of a truck and made his way to the open area between vehicles to two biters that reached out for him.

  “Wild, driven by hunger, and always searching for their next meal. A
nd considering the fact that their food source has dwindled substantially….” He paused, spearing a Biter, “More will be following the noises, smells, etc. They will be coming from farther away.” Miles stepped back after killing two more. He ran a hand through his hair watching as George and Brian finished the fence line. “Should we be worried?” he asked, and Brian shrugged, a grin on his face as he walked past Miles and shoved the sharp end of his pole between the eyes of another Biter. The gruesome sound of bones crunching and blood spurting made George grimace.

  “Nah. They can’t get through all of this.” He said, gesturing to all of the leverage against the fence. He turned towards the next fence line, rounding the hood of an old car and leaning against it to reach a Biter that was snapping against the gate. George sighed, stepping onto the other side of Brian and spiking his rod through the Biter’s skull. “By the way, you two should know that there are two exits here, should anything happen. One of them you have already seen: the front gates. The second exit is here…” he paused, reaching forward through the dark and jingling a chain and lock that had been fastened around another fence gate. George nodded, as did Miles, surprised that it was even there. He had not seen it at all throughout the day. “I have a set of keys and Amber has a set. Find us if anything happens. We have already checked out the area around here and we know where to meet. We will take you there one day. ”

  “Deal.” Miles said firmly before looking around him. “Where did Zeus run off to?” he asked and Brian clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Probably upstairs with the kids or in the kitchen with the girls.” He told him and Miles cast his eyes towards the faint light that shone through the cracks of the boarded up windows of the kitchen. George grinned, stepping past Brian and Miles as they stood for a moment, surveying the trickles of light that came from the house. Though he didn’t want to admit it, he felt a sense of comradery with these people, a connection that he had never found before the outbreak. He sighed. Whatever connection he had shared with his friends and his wife before the disease ran rampant wasn’t as strong as the trusting, faith-filled and growing friendships he had gained in the last three days. Yes, Miles was hiding something and Brian was a bit challenging but still, George looked at the two men who were becoming his friends and smiled. They did indeed make one hell of a team. His mind ran rampant with the memories of the night before, of the woman, of seeing the herd. Yes, he thought, they worked together like a well-oiled machine.

  After clearing the perimeter, Brian had called it a night after offering to take watch. Miles and George had told him not to worry, that they had it under control, and so, eagerly, he had rushed into the house, the sound of his footsteps pounding on the stairs resonating through the air. As Miles and George made their way back to the porch, they heard Shelly’s voice through the open door as she followed Brian up the stairs. Lights within the house were flickering, changing as Amber made her way to the door, pulling her jacket tight around her as she held a candle in her hand. Miles glanced up and stopped, watching the candlelight dance across her bruised face. Yet again, George winced at the sight.

  “Are you alright?” he asked, and she smiled softly at him, bringing a hand to gently touch her cheek. She knew what he was addressing, and she chuckled lightly at something, turning back to George.

  “I’m fine. I was just checking on you guys before I went to sleep. Everything alright?” she asked and Miles swallowed beside him, refusing to talk though he couldn’t tear his eyes from the woman in the doorway. George offered her a smile, finally understanding some aspect of the man beside him.

  “Yeah, everything’s fine.” He assured her and she brushed some hair from her face.

  “If you get tired…” she began before tossing Miles a pointed look. “…either of you,” she said pointedly before turning back to George. “Come wake me. I can take over. I’ll be in the room right past the living room.” She said and George nodded as she turned to leave, closing the door and taking the light with her. For a moment both men stood there in the darkness, ensuring the lack of presence from anyone in the house. The cool night breeze was the only thing they heard as it whistled by their ears, and so, they moved.

  Miles had sauntered over to a rocking chair that was settled on the porch, and rocked back, his fingers locked behind his head. The porch creaked slightly as the chair rolled forwards and back, the sound much like that of George’s own fast beating heart. Miles closed his eyes and enjoyed the silence. George on the other hand was pacing in front of the porch, his mind not quite taking in the silence. He was afraid of it, afraid that once he was alone with his thoughts that he would not like what he thought; or even worse, that he would.

  “You know,” Miles began, not bothering to open his eyes and look at George. George jumped, startled. “if you keep going on like that, you’ll end up getting stuck in a hole.” He quipped, causing George to stop short. He glanced down at his feet, realizing that he had been pacing in one spot for the past few minutes. He wanted to whip out a smart retort right back at him, but instead, took a deep breath and bit it back. He wasn’t upset with Miles, not really, and he wasn’t going to take his anger out on him.

  “I just have a lot on my mind.” He answered honestly. He had never said anything so true; his mind was in overdrive and he couldn’t even form a coherent though because of all of the muddled mess, the emotions, the logicality, and the memories of all that had happened. He went from eternally grateful to furious to depressed every few seconds. He really needed time to think, to sort things out in his head before they drove him off of the deep end. He refused to end up like Regina. He winced at the thought. He had loved her, he really had at some point, but he reasoned that he was only with her the past few years because he thought that love would come back. Instead, it all went to someone else; and that thought no longer hurt him. It had stopped hurting him long ago.

  “Is some of it similar to ‘How can everyone be so calm and happy after what we have been through?’ or ‘I lost the most important thing in the world, what am I supposed to do now?’ or even ‘Why won’t I let myself relax for once, now that I can?’” Miles offered, and George simply stared at him. Miles’s eyes were still closed, although he had kicked his feet out before him. The rocking had stopped and George felt a little tense, missing the steady creaking, the slight pulsing rhythm from the pressure of chair on floor.

  “Some of it, yeah.” He admitted and Miles smiled.

  “You will be just fine George.” He offered and George continued to look at him curiously. The man was a mystery. There were so many questions he wanted to ask him, and yet he wasn’t sure how to ask them. Only one thing came to mind to ask in the surprise of Miles’s kind words.

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked quickly before he could change his mind, and Miles’s eyes popped open at this, but he never looked at George. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling, the look on his face thoughtful.

  “Why wouldn’t I be? We are friends, right?” he replied, smirking and sounding as if he were quoting something, the air about his words quirky. He then chuckled at himself, and George just shook his head, completely dumbfounded by the man that was slowly becoming the very friend he had mentioned

  “You have barely said hardly anything to anyone.” George said lightly, deciding to sit on the stairs. “I hardly know anything about you.” He continued, easing himself down on the top step as Miles remained silent. George sighed after a moment of nothing but stillness and began gazing up at the cloudless sky. The moon was almost full, and he began remembering his childhood, when he was a small boy. As an only child, and under the guardianship of his grandparents, he hadn’t had much of a selection of friends or toys. Things had been rough. And so, on pretty days, he would pretend to be a wolf howling at the moon, and after he had gotten older, he would just stretch out in the bed of his old truck with a warm beer and just stare at it, mystified.

  Miles jolted him from his stupor. “I’m just a very private pers
on. There are things that they may not know either.” He admitted to George, and George sat there dumbfounded. They trusted this man without knowing his story, knowing anything about him? Miles seemed to catch on to his train of thought and shook his head. Then he looked pointedly at George. “Amber knows quite a bit. Brian knows some. But there are still things I’m not sure they know, things I am not ready to tell them because I am not sure I can handle them looking at me any differently.”

  George nodded, knowing then that he wouldn’t divulge anything that was discussed, but unsure why. He looked at Miles curiously, who had once again relaxed back into the chair. “Twenty questions?” he asked, thinking of it as a simpler way of having the discussion that they were bound to have, a discussion he wanted to have. He did want to know more about Miles, especially considering they shared friends and living arrangements, and when it came down to it, they had to have one another’s backs. They needed to reach an understanding. “I know there are things you are dying to ask me.”

  Miles pursed his lips and nodded at the suggestion, then added one of his own. “I’m assuming honesty shouldn’t be a problem then.” He stated his calmly, and almost a little hesitatingly, and continued to stare at the ceiling. George wondered why that had been a condition, thought it rather silly really. In the world that they were living in, why lie?

  “Fine. You go first.” George said, scooting back and resting against the ragged column that reached the porch roof, another just like it framing the other side of the stairs. He wanted to watch Miles’s expressions when answering his questions. He had offered to let Miles go first, not out of courtesy, but to see what he was in for. It also gave him time to determine the correct way of forming his own questions. He could admit, he was nervous about the intensity of the conversation they were going to have.

  Miles began rocking slowly in the chair. “Easy one; what did you do before everything happened?”

  “What do you mean?” George asked unsure. Surely he wasn’t going to ask something so simple as his first question, especially knowing that George would answer truthfully.