by W. A. R.
And so there he was, staring coldly at the house before them.
The house was two story and hidden in the backcountry woods of Angola. There were no fences for protection, and there was also no movement from the house or the yard itself. He shuddered involuntarily, anticipating what they would find in the house; the house that had once belonged to a family. The trees had slowed to a stop and Miles inhaled, looking around, realizing that Brian had already killed the truck and they were all simply sitting in the silence looking at the house and yard, studying it. He could see the wheels in Brian’s head turning as he sat there. Ok, he thought, so maybe they had done this before. He felt like an imposter then, as if he didn’t belong, but that feeling was gone whenever Brian spoke.
“See anything unusual?’ he asked, casting a sideways glance at Miles. Miles looked again at the house and shook his head. Amber leaned forward from the backseat, her head poking up from behind the seat. Her eyes skimmed the house.
“I didn’t see anything. I say we get a move on before we draw attention to ourselves.” She said before turning to her door. Miles sighed and they easily climbed out. He closed his door lightly, watching as Amber and Brian rounded the front of the truck, pulling their handheld weapons as well as their loaded guns into view, having them at the ready. Brian slid an empty bag onto his shoulders while Miles stepped forward and did the same, flanking Brian’s right side as Amber flanked his left, a bag hugging her shoulders as well.
They made their way towards the front door, climbing up the steps easily. Once at the door, Brian eased it open and Amber stepped forwards, claiming the other side of the frame. She leaned forward and whistled. It was low and sweet, luring whatever creatures were lying in wait in the house. A minute passed by, and then two and there was still not the slightest sound. Amber turned to look at Brian, who glanced around the frame to the sunlight-filled room, judging the layout before taking a slight step forward. Miles watch Amber follow her brother, eyeing the foyer with interest. He followed her gaze and noted the shoes that littered the floor, the jackets that hung on the wall. He watched her shoulders move under her own jacket as she shrugged against whatever emotion came over her. Brian led the way to the kitchen, glancing around warily before he slid the bag from one of his shoulders and unzipped it. Within seconds he was rummaging through drawers and cabinets. Miles was surprised at the amount of canned foods in the pantry and for the briefest of moments he wondered what happened to the family that had once lived there. Miles turned, unsure of where to begin searching for items and found an old tall cabinet to the side. Slowly he opened it and went through it, finding a few jars of canned salsa and tomatoes. He placed them on the table for Brian and continued searching. Once that search turned up fruitless he stood, looking for another place to search whenever he realized Amber was missing. He wasn’t sure how long she had been gone while he searched but he knew it had at least been ten minutes. He stepped forward, blood rushing to his head, aiming his gun down as he rounded the door frame to the living room. He scanned the area and saw that though she wasn’t there, there was another door that led to another part of the house. He rushed towards it, feeling nothing but anxiety and uncertainty. Maybe he wasn’t ready to face the real world yet again. He had seen that look on her face we he said he wanted to join them and he knew exactly what was on her mind when she gave that look to him. He had survived in the world on his own for months, since it all began…so why was it so much harder then? Was it because he no longer lived and thrived in the depression that had become his home? He wasn’t sure but either way he knew he was insanely nervous at having her out of his sight, especially in an unknown place.
He rounded the corner and came to a bathroom but he stopped, seeing an open door directly across from where he stood. There was a bedroom adorned with an elegant bed and furniture. There were two rifles on the bed and a pistol, a few knives, and some toiletries from the bathroom. Her bag lay next to them all as if she had stopped in the middle of loading it. Damn she worked fast. He eased forward, his eyes searching for her presence in the room. Though his feet were heavy in the boots he stepped lightly, not wanting to surprise her. He had taken one step in the doorway whenever he saw her in the far left corner of the room, looking at something on the dresser. She moved slightly, her face contorted with emotion he didn’t understand and a sudden sweet music filled the room. He watched, mesmerized as she closed her eyes, her fingers sliding across the porcelain of the music box. She belonged there, he thought, in that bliss, in that moment. It was hers. His mouth went dry as he watched her, and he couldn’t understand why this simple action affected him so…or even why she, Amber, affected him the way that she did. Despite his uncertainty he couldn’t move, he could only watch the woman before him as she ignored the rest of the world. He saw her as the small girl that had become his friend, as the teenager that never gave up on him, as the young woman that was frightened and yet all too alluring, and finally as the very woman she had become…strong, stubborn, and yet…compassionate and selfless. He wanted to touch her, to have her succumb to him and though he wanted to banish the thought, he couldn’t. She was his addiction, his drug, and she always had been…and he knew that.
It took a moment for him to realize the music had stopped and she now stood turned to him, her eyes searching his for an answer that only she knew the question to. He swallowed, unable to move, unable to speak and he was unsure why. He watched her fingers slide from the music box to the dresser until finally her hand hung by her side. She was the first to turn away, aiming for the bed, her cheeks flushed and her eyes darting everywhere but to him. He desperately wanted to know what was on her mind then, but he wouldn’t ask, and she wouldn’t tell.
“I found some guns and knives; even a few books for Dad and Cassie.” She began rambling, one hand grabbing the lip of the bag and the other hand carefully inserting the weapons. “Some ammo too of course.” She told him and he nodded, stepping forward and grabbing the two rifles and slinging them onto his empty back as she zipped up her bag and did the same with it.
“Are you alright?” he asked and she nodded vacantly. He lifted a brow at her, and he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to push her, wanted her to answer him. She caught the look he offered her and shifted uneasily on her feet.
“Just thinking.” She replied, shifting the bag on her shoulders. She stepped away from him and though he wanted to reach out and stop her, he didn’t. Instead he watched her. Suddenly she jerked to a stop and he bit back the smile that threatened to cross his face. He had her. She then turned to him, a guilty look on her face. “I try to find some little something that each person would enjoy in their free time. We don’t get that much anymore, to enjoy the little things.” She explained and he couldn’t resist smiling at her any longer. She returned the smile.
He looked around the room. “Well, who are we lacking?” he asked, and her face brightened instantly at his words. His chest tightened and he was dumbstruck by how something as little as giving small tokens to those she cared about brought her immense happiness.
“Well,” she began glancing around the room. “…the only person I’m lacking is George.” She replied off-handedly.
“What about you?” he asked and this seem to catch her by surprise. Her jaw dropped, her lips parting to form words but none came out; nothing but stuttered and chopped sentences.
“Well…I…this isn’t…I’m not part…” she attempted speaking and he lifted a brow at her. He studied her for a moment before coming to a decision. Quickly he sidestepped her and went to the dresser where the music box sat. “What are you doing?” she asked, watching as he picked up the fragile artifact. He turned to the closet and jerked a shirt from its hanger and wrapped it up. His hands were shaking. She had gone quiet by then and he wondered briefly if she were still in the room. He hadn’t been able to look at her. His chest was hurting from the tightness that gripped him and he couldn’t bring himself to see the confusion on her face.
T
urning to where he had last seen her, he felt relief cascade through him at the fact that she still remained there. She studied him, hands gripping the straps to the bag that pressed against her shoulders. Quickly, he advanced and upon reaching her, he gripped her shoulder and turned her around, unzipping the bag. He hurriedly shoved the box into her bag and zipped it back before placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“I’m not letting you forget yourself.” He answered her finally. His fingertips brushed against the creamy skin of her neck. It was fast and unsure, and his hands threatened to linger on her skin, but as if the very touch had burned him he jerked away. She turned to face him then and his nerves got the best of him. He pushed past her and forced himself out of the room, questioning himself about the very man that he was.
As he exited the room, he ran into Brian in the living room, his bag full for the most part. He smiled at Miles. “We got some more food. Weapons?”
Amber appeared behind him and Miles stepped to the side, letting her by. She leveled her gaze at her brother. Miles was grateful for his sudden presence and didn’t question it. “Yeah. Ammo too. Have you checked upstairs?” she asked him and he shook his head, his grin growing wider. She smiled back at him.
“I was waiting on you. Let’s go.” He told her, turning to lead the way. Amber followed dutifully behind, stealing a glance at Miles before he sighed and followed them both, a heavy rock settling in the pit of his stomach.
“See any Biters?” Brian asked and Amber shook her head as they aimed for the staircase. Brian placed a hand on the railing, knife in his other hand.
Amber shook her head in response. “No. I haven’t seen anything…which is odd…” she trailed off, her eyes scanning every bit of the house they passed. She gripped her weapons tightly. Miles released a heavy breath.
“The house is spotless, with the exception of dust.” He said softly and Amber nodded.
“The bed downstairs was made, clothes were all put up…there wasn’t anything out of place.” She said gently and Miles knew she was also talking about the lack of…well, blood. They rounded the turn in the stairs. “Maybe they all just packed up and left…” she stopped, quickly covering her nose with the back of her occupied hand as the smell of decaying flesh filled their nostrils. They stood still at the top of the stairs, their eyes scouring the four doors that led to rooms. Two of them were wide open, one being the bathroom and the other what appeared to be an empty room. Brian turned and looked at them, worry evident on his face. Amber pressed the back of her hand harder against her nose and squinted at the two doors that were next to one another. “That is just horrible.” She said almost playfully, earning her a look of irritation from Brian. She lifted a brow at him. “Oh, keep your panties on.” She grumbled at him, stepping forward, pushing his shoulder with hers. He watched her as she made her way towards one of the two closed doors. “We would hear some moving around if there was anything alive up here.”
“Amber, what are you doing?” Brian seethed as she pulled her hands from her nose just long enough to turn the knob. Brian rushed forward, Miles right behind him but as they inspected the room they saw nothing out of place…not one wrinkle in the bedspread, not one item on the shelves crooked. Amber turned to the two men behind her, lowering her gun.
“Nothing in here. This was a little girl’s room so I doubt there are any weapons of use.” She said, and though she tried to sound teasing, Miles noted the slight catch in her voice that betrayed her sympathy. Miles stepped back and turned to the second closed door. Brian did the same, and Amber behind him. Miles turned the knob and eased the door open. A blast of wretched air hit him and he fought the urge to vomit. The stink of death permeated his very being and he slowly advanced deeper into the room. What he saw made his stomach churn.
“I think we found it.” Miles bit out and Amber gasped as she entered the room, the smell even stronger than before. Miles thought for a moment of not letting them enter, not letting them see, but he was too late. Brian paused momentarily in his movements and he knew that he had seen the horror as well.
“Smells about right.” She coughed out, coming further into the room. Miles had stopped, unable to move any further, and Brian had stepped around the foot of the bed, surveying the grotesque image. Amber stepped up slowly beside Brian, her focus on the scene before them as well.
Blood and matter covered the walls, bullet holes here and there; crimson splattered across a family portrait. There was a plush bench in front of the window that overlooked the back of the house, overseeing a large field. The decayed body of a small girl was…poised there, sitting limply and staring out of the window. The back of her head was missing, and her flesh had begun embedding itself with the floral dress that she wore. On the floor on the left side of the room, leaning against what appeared to be an armoire, was a small boy, judging by the plaid dress shirt and khaki pants that were intermingling with the body. The back of his head was missing as well, and what was left of his eyes was staring into nothingness. There were a few toy trucks placed in front of him, as if he would wake any moment and play with them. And finally, sitting up against the headboard of the bed were two people. One was wearing a long (what was once white) dress, white sandals on her feet. There was a gaping hole in her chest, Miles noticed, as he studied how she leaned against the man, one hand on his torso. She appeared to be curled against him, her face buried into his shoulder. And the man…the man sat up, legs sprawled out before him, gun on the bed beside him and a hole in his chin. The top of his skull was missing and blood painted the headboard behind him. The entire sight was revolting and Miles turned to see how Amber and Brian were faring.
“Holy shit.” Brian muttered under his breath, unable to tear his eyes from the scene. Amber simply stood there, her eyes wide. “What in the hell happened in here?” he asked and Miles sighed. What could he say? How could he explain what he saw when looking at the corpses set up before them?
“I’ll give you three guesses.” He said hoping to lighten the mood. He shifted the two guns on his back. “And the first two don’t count.”
“He killed them all.” Brian said roughly, making his way back towards the door where Amber and Miles stood. “And then did…what exactly?” Brian was genuinely confused as to why someone would do such a thing.
Amber spoke then, her voice thick. “He positioned them how he would always remember them. He cleaned them up, cleaned their rooms, and set them up how he wanted them. And then he…”
“He killed himself.” Miles finished for her. Amber visibly shuddered beside him, easing from him and Brian to glance out of the window that the girl seemed to be staring out of. Miles was particularly disgusted at the sight of the small boy with the toys. He again felt his stomach lurch and he swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. Brian looked at him worriedly.
“I think we need to leave. I’m not feeling too good anymore.” Brian said to the other two in the room, rubbing the back of his hand against his nose. Miles noted the sweat that had begun beading along his brow and nodded in agreement. He didn’t feel so well either. Amber furrowed her eyebrows at the window.
“Yeah. There is a Biter clear across the field. Before we get any more attention, we should probably leave.” She stated, turning to them. She glanced up between the two men and Brian patted her on the back, her bottom lip pulled tightly between her teeth.
Without another word they rushed from the room, not bothering to close the door or look back. Instead, they filed out, their feet moving quickly. Brian was the first to the door, and once he was on the front porch, he inhaled deeply the fresh air. Amber was behind him and did the same, followed by Miles. They all three stood on the porch for a few seconds, coming back to their senses while surveying the land. They saw no Biters around the front yard or the truck and so they hurriedly made tracks to the red Dodge. Amber pulled her bag from her shoulders and adjusted her jacket as Brian opened the back door of the truck. Amber stepped forward to the opposite side and op
ened it as well, both siblings depositing their findings into the somewhat empty backseat before holstering their weapons. Miles opened the passenger door, removing the guns form his back and readying himself to climb in when he felt a hand graze his arm. He stopped and turned, watching Amber step past him cautiously. She was making her way towards the front of the truck walking lightly and carefully in her boots. Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion but she was intensely focused on something. Both Brian and Miles noticed this and stepped forward, following her gaze. Brian stopped at the front of the truck opposite Amber and Miles stepped up next to her. He looked up and saw a recently turned Biter in front of them, shirtless and standing still, watching the three of them. The Biter was at least fifty yards away, standing at the corner of the back part of the house. Miles glanced down at her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked lightly, catching the jerk of the Biter’s head towards him as he spoke. Still, the creature remained still. Amber inhaled sharply.
“That’s the Biter from the window…” she said loudly enough for Brian to hear. Both the monster and Brian jerked their heads to Amber. She swallowed and Miles felt tension fill the air.
“But how did he…?” Brian couldn’t even finish his question, it was too crazy. The Biter jerked his attention to Brian. “We were down from there within seconds. It has been, what, two minutes now, tops? How could he have gone that far in that amount of time?” he asked, remembering how big the field had been. It was at least football field length.