by Kirk Withrow
Natalie found C.J. as he readied himself to head out the following morning. “I’m coming with you,” she said. Although C.J. argued with her until he was blue in the face, she refused to back down. Her son, Max, even tried to dissuade her, offering to go with C.J. instead. In the end, both Natalie and Max insisted on going with him.
Before they left, Logan called to them from the couch, “I want to help. My foot’s fine. I can walk on it without pain. That doctor didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. I told him I was a fast healer.”
Despite the older man’s insistence, C.J. flat out refused, stating he would slow them down and endanger himself as well as the rest of the group. He was already more than a little nervous about a woman and a kid accompanying him, so the prospect of adding a man in a cast was too much. “Besides, I need someone to look after the house while we’re gone,” C.J. said. This little job seemed to be sufficient to appease him, as he relented.
C.J., Natalie, and Max set out toward Logan’s farm. C.J. carried his rifle and machete, while Natalie and her son were armed with a knife and a crowbar. Just past the first farm they investigated the previous day, C.J. found a trail of blood leading to a dead man that had been mauled by the infected. The man, whom they did not recognize, appeared to have succumbed to blunt force head trauma given that his skull had been crushed by a bloody rock that lay next to him.
As C.J. studied the scene for clues regarding Joseph and Kevin’s whereabouts, a blood-curdling cry drew his attention to the two figures shambling out of the woods. Natalie stared, seemingly paralyzed except for the muscles of her voice box, as the thing that had been her husband fell on Max. Rushing to his aid, C.J. and Max fought the monsters off, but not before Joseph took a bite out of Max’s arm. Unable to face the horror of the two men she loved more than anything else killing one another, Natalie fled into the woods.
“Dammit! He bit me! Can you believe that! After all we’ve been through, my Dad bit me!” the enraged boy said as he kicked his father’s dead body.
C.J. pulled the boy back, and said, “It wasn’t him. Not anymore. He would never have done anything to hurt you.”
Realizing he no longer heard his mother’s screams right next to him, Max asked, “Where’s my mom? Did you see where my mom went? Did they get her? We need to find her!”
“Calm down, Max! We’ll find her, just calm down. Are you hurt?” C.J. asked. Max struggled against him weakly before finally settling down. C.J. thought the boy had composed himself, but when he looked into his sick eyes, there was only raw fear and panic.
“I can already feel it. I swear I can feel that shit in my blood. Whatever it is, it’s already taking hold of me. I don’t think I have much time. I don’t want to be like them. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Please find my mother, C.J. Tell her I love her, and tell her to be safe. Please take care of her,” Max said.
C.J. took a step forward to tell Max he could tell her himself, but before he uttered a word, the boy leaned over and pulled a snub-nosed revolver out of a holster attached to the other infected man’s ankle. The deafening noise of the shot made him flinch as the boy placed the barrel of the gun to his temple and blew his brains out. One moment Max was pleading to him, and then—in a literal blink of an eye—he was a ruined mess splattered across the foliage. The fine red mist settled on C.J.’s skin a few moments after the larger droplets of blood and brain tissue hit him. He stared in shock as the boy’s lifeless corpse slumped to the side.
Realizing the sound of the gunshot would likely attract more infected, C.J. knew he needed to leave. Although he wanted to give the men a proper Christian burial, there was no time for such things. His first priority was to find Natalie; given the state she was in when she fled, he knew she would not make it on her own. C.J. gathered what weapons he could carry and set off on the direction he thought the woman had fled. Despite not having a solid trail to follow, he searched the area for several hours before heading back to the farm.
When C.J. entered the small farmhouse he called home, he stumbled upon a gruesome scene. A ruddy brown trail stretched from the door to where Natalie was hunched over something. Her head bobbed down intermittently, disappearing into whatever was on the floor below. Every time her head dipped out of sight, C.J. heard nauseating, slurping sounds as though a pig were eating slop. Although he had a good idea about what, or who, was on the floor, his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the cast protruding from behind the couch. C.J. vomited into his mouth when the casted leg wobbled from side to side as Natalie tore into Logan’s flesh.
Unable to stand any more, he burst from his hiding place with a guttural yell. Charging full speed toward the infected woman, C.J. drew his machete and struck her hard in the neck, nearly severing her head with one blow. Taking aim again, he finished her and Logan before collapsing onto the ground and crying his eyes out.
When all his tears were shed, C.J. dragged the two bodies outside and tied them to the Rokon. After pulling them a good distance from the house, he dug two shallow graves where he buried Natalie and Logan. He rode back toward Logan’s farm, intent on burying Joseph and Max before moving on. C.J. knew he could not stay at the farm any longer after what he had seen and done there. As he rode, he could hardly wrap his mind around the fact that he had gone from being alone, to finding five people, and back to being alone in such a short amount of time. What the hell did the world do to bring such evil down upon itself?
With little daylight remaining, C.J. dug a single grave for the three men. He placed Max and Joseph in first, side by side, before moving on to the unknown man whom he assumed was responsible for Joseph’s death. As he dragged the body toward the hole, C.J. did not notice any obvious bite wounds or injuries to indicate how the man became infected. Alarmed, he searched the body thoroughly but still found nothing. If he wasn’t bitten, how had he become infected?
Fear rose in his gullet as C.J. considered the possibility that the disease might be airborne. He was no scientist, but his mind reeled with the implications. He felt numb as he knelt next to the corpse. If you can get infected without being bitten then how the hell will anyone survive? How do I know I’m not already infected and just waiting around to die? Overwhelmed with emotion over everything that had happened, his head sagged low and he began to sob. When C.J. finally looked up, he caught a glimpse of something neon green nestled in the man’s hair.
Rolling him to the side, he found a small dart protruding from the side of the man’s neck. Confused by what he was seeing, he yanked on the dart and felt the surrounding tissue tear as the needle’s barbed tip pulled free. He held it up to the fading light and saw that it was essentially a tiny syringe. The wicked little projectile reminded him of a razor-sharp, hollow-bore fang of a venomous snake. When he thought about the lethal venom they injected into their victims, C.J. felt as though a bolt of lightning struck him, and the scenario became crystal clear in his mind.
As if suddenly realizing he was standing in the crosshairs of a riflescope, a hot prickling sensation surged through his body causing him to drop low to the ground. Instinctively, he grabbed his neck as if that would somehow shield him from the projectile he knew was flying toward him. He tried to look everywhere at once; knowing the perpetrator of the heinous act was still out there somewhere. Holy shit! Who would do something like that? Why would someone do something like that? I have to get the hell out of here!
Too shaken to finish burying the men, C.J. jumped on the Rokon, and staying as low as possible, he sped back to the farm. With his mind racing, he slipped inside the small house and sank to the floor. Willing himself to calm down, he went through the facts once again, only to arrive at the same conclusion: someone intentionally infected that man using an injection dart to do so. Despite the insanity of the suggestion, it was the only plausible answer he could come up with. Given the depravity of humans in general, he had no trouble believing someone was capable of such an act, he simply could not figure out why someone would go to such troub
le.
When he finally mustered the courage to stand, he loaded a small backpack and the Rokon’s saddlebags with food, water, and other supplies. Intent on nothing but getting as far away from the area as possible, C.J. set out heading west.
30
October 30, 2015
Clayton County, GA
Lydia awoke to find C.J. sitting dutifully by the window, flanked by Ava and Annalee. Although she could not hear what he was saying, she could tell by his hand gestures that he was telling them a rather animated story. She heard both girls giggling quietly as they listened. Not wanting to interrupt their good time, she sat and scrutinized the dog-eared map of the southeastern United States.
Thirty minutes later, they discussed what she learned from the map as they ate a meager breakfast. They still had a good distance to travel before they reached Atlanta, and at their current pace, it seemed as though they would never make it. At once, C.J. had an idea, which he shared with the three females. Lydia voiced her concerns while Annalee simply shook her head. With a huge smile, Ava said, “That’s a brilliant idea, C.J.”
C.J.’s face went bright red, and he fought to hold back a vindicated smile of his own. Later that morning, he finished rigging a small trailer to the back of the Rokon. It was just big enough for both Ava and Annalee to ride in with the majority of their supplies, scarce as they were. Lydia rode on the Rokon with C.J. While it was not blazing fast, it was far better than walking or even riding a bike. They travelled like that for days, scavenging food, water, and gas along the way.
The biggest downside, they soon discovered, was the bike’s noisy engine. While it attracted more than a few infected, it was fast enough to outpace them. When it was time to make camp for the night, they located somewhere that was relatively free of the infected, and shut off the Rokon’s engine a short distance away. After hiding the bike and trailer, they walked the rest of the way to the place where they intended to hole up for the night.
In short order, they had this mode of transportation down to a science, and their travels were relatively smooth and uneventful. That all changed just outside of Atlanta when they encountered a massive horde. Literally thousands of infected crowded nearly every potential route forward. Feeling as though they were being steadily boxed in by the encroaching mass, C.J. saw a gap between two buildings that was only occupied by fifteen or so infected. Working quickly, he detached the trailer from the Rokon.
“What are you doing?” Lydia asked.
“It’s the only way,” C.J. replied. “Once I’ve drawn them away, head through that opening and get the girls to safety. Get Ava to her father.”
Lydia opened her mouth to protest but no words came out. As much as she hated to admit it, she knew he was right. She saw no other way. With C.J.’s sacrifice, some of them would have a chance at survival. Without it, they would likely all die before they could make it a hundred yards. Although she wanted to believe C.J. could do this and make it out alive, she knew that was not the case. He would be riding his bike straight into the lion’s den—into the mouth of certain death. Tears flooded her eyes as she wrapped him in an enormous hug. Thinking of what C.J. was about to do, and about Lonnie’s sacrifice, she vowed to do everything in her power not to let their deaths be for nothing. She would get Ava to the CDC, and keep both of the girls safe or die trying.
As soon as Ava realized what C.J. was planning to do, she went on the offensive—punching and crying and telling him not to be so stupid. In the end, she merely hugged him and cried her heart out as he rode into the infected throng so that she might live. Lydia wondered if Ava also understood that there was no other way.
As C.J. was swallowed by the surge of infected drawn toward the sound of the Rokon’s engine, Ava thought of Jim and how he had done the same thing so that she could escape the infected. What makes people give their own lives for someone they hardly know? Why am I so special? I don’t deserve that. Maybe such people were simply killing two birds with one stone: giving themselves over to death to escape the pain of their own losses while helping someone else in the process. No sooner than the thought crossed her mind, Ava wanted to slap herself for belittling their selfless acts.
31
October 31, 2015
Atlanta Metropolitan Area
Lydia did as C.J. instructed, and she and the girls managed to push past the majority of the horde. Even so, they were far from in the clear. The infected were everywhere in the city, and she did not see how they could possibly weave their way through all of them. Before they had a chance to celebrate their small victory, they found themselves backed into a corner by the infected less than a mile away from the CDC.
Recalling her vow to do everything in her power to protect the girls, Lydia realized what she now had to do. When she frantically outlined the remainder of the route on the map and began handing the girls everything she was carrying, they understood what she was planning. “No way, Lydia!” Ava screamed. “Not you, too! No one else is going to die for me!”
Tears filled Lydia’s eyes when she saw the fierce determination on Ava’s face. She wanted so badly to see both of the strong, beautiful girls grow up, but the world continually conspired against her. Listening to the ravenous moans of the infected mass bearing down upon them, she knew the world had finally won. She had but one chip left, and she was going to bet it all. Lydia opened her mouth to speak but was cut off when Annalee shouted:
“Look, they’re killing them!”
Lydia turned and stared in awe at the vortex of death heading straight for them. Although she saw people spinning and slashing, carving a path through the horde as they moved, she could not tell who or how many approached. The sounds of their exertion and their blades slicing through the air were nearly as terrifying as that of the infected themselves. Bursting through the front line of the infected still twenty feet away, two figures clad in black rushed toward Lydia and the girls.
Panicked, Lydia said, “Annalee, Ava, get behind me!”
When she spoke Ava’s name, Lydia noticed the larger figure pause and exchange a brief glance with the other. The man pulled off his balaclava, and rushed over to kneel in front of the girls cowering behind Lydia. Even kneeling, he looked colossal by comparison. “One of you is named Ava? Ava Wild?” he asked. Seeing Lydia tense as he spoke, he did his best to put on a reassuring smile.
Caught off-guard by his words, Ava did not know how to respond. “How do you know my…” she stammered.
With his grin stretching from ear to ear, the man said, “Let’s just say people are looking for you, little darling. My name is Plant, Benjamin Plant, and this is Ann, or Animal if you prefer. She does.”
Given the smaller figure’s aggressive body language and the combat prowess she just witnessed, Lydia could see why she acquired the latter name.
“I’m betting you three are going our way. We should probably think about getting out of here while that’s still an option,” Plant said.
Walking behind the two warriors was like walking behind the bastard child of a wood chipper and a meat grinder. The rotten precipitation filling the air varied from a fine mist to a chunky downpour depending on the density of the infected around them. They twirled and slashed, churning through the infected and allowing almost none to make it even to Lydia. When she cleaved the head of an infected jogger that slipped past Plant, he shot her an apologetic look that would have been more appropriate had he just passed gas in the confined space of an elevator.
As they passed the spot where they last saw C.J., Lydia could not help but stare in that direction. While she wanted more than anything to see him alive and well, battling the infected horde, she had no delusions she would. She knew it was far more likely she would see his mangled, dismembered remains or see him shambling about as a new convert to the infected mob. Fortunately, she saw no such trace of him.
They moved through the congested streets of the city with surprising speed. Cutting through alleys and side streets, slipping in and out of
buildings, Plant and Animal were like their own personal tour guides through Hell. When they came to a particularly dense wall of infected that appeared virtually impenetrable, Plant led them into an impoverished high-rise apartment building. After battling their way up the dark and foreboding staircase, they emerged on the building’s sixth floor. Plant kicked in the door of apartment 614 and was greeted by a nauseating putrescence so vile that it made all of them want to give up on the spot. A mixture of cat piss, decaying grandma, and Limburger cheese, the stench was so concentrated from having been bottled up in the small apartment that it seemed almost visible in the air. The dozen or so felines that had been locked inside tore past them the moment they saw the opening.
“Dammit, Plant! A cat lady, really?” Animal groaned.
Inside, the place was a wreck. Everything was covered in cat shit, and the cats’ sharp claws had shredded every inch of paper and fabric in the apartment. In a recliner sat the well-chewed corpse of the Cat Lady herself—still taking care of her babies in her own morbid way.
Animal moved nimbly through the disgusting accommodations, careful not to touch anything for fear of dragging even a hint of the fetor with her. She opened a window leading onto the fire escape. The adjacent building stood five stories high and was separated by a narrow alley of little more than six feet. Without a word, Animal hopped onto the railing and leapt over to the roof of the other building, tucking into a roll when she landed.
Plant emerged onto the fire escape, causing it to groan under the burden of his weight. “Lydia, watch the door in case any unwanted visitors show up,” he ordered.
Plant unslung a thick, black coil of rope from his chest and commenced twirling one end like a lasso. He sent the end of the rope sailing across the gap to Animal. Once she secured the rope on her side, Plant cut four short lengths of rope before pulling it tight and anchoring it to the underside of the fire escape landing above. Turning to Lydia and the girls, he said, “Who’s first?” Were it not for the low rumble of the infected congregation on the streets below, he imagined he would have heard a chorus of crickets for all the sound the three females made. “Well, don’t everybody volunteer at once,” he added.