After Tomorrow: A CHBB Anthology

by Samantha Ketteman

  Santo moved his mouth from her lips to her neck and Lily shivered.

  “I want to be with you,” he whispered into her throat, his tongue lightly brushing her skin. “I won’t rush you for anything, but that’s what I want.”

  “I want that too,” she told him and hugged him even tighter. “You can move into my tent,” she offered impulsively. Then she pinched her lips in shock. What girl says that? A desperately lonely one, she thought. Or one great at self-sabotage. She steeled herself for rejection.

  “Wow, really?” Santo asked. He pulled back just far enough to see her face. “I’d love to. It’ll work, Lil, I know it. We’ve both been waiting, but today, we learned what for.” He brushed a loose strand of hair out of her eye and planted a soft kiss just above her eyebrow.

  Wait, he said yes? This sure is a crazy day. She, too, believed in their success as a couple. In their new world, they couldn’t waste a day. They had to put their hearts out there, and give it everything they had.

  At the same time though, sharing a tent in the survivors’ camp wasn’t the same as buying a house or moving in with someone pre-Breakout times. It was just a show of their connection, and each person’s willingness to take care of the other.

  “You can move in, if you let me drive the Harley,” she offered and was thrilled to see his face crinkle in thought. She gave the ultimatum to keep the situation light and to hide her slight embarrassment.

  Santo grinned, “Deal. Here’re the keys.” He took her hand and placed the keys in them, closing her palm.

  “What?” How does he always trump me when I try to throw him off balance?

  “Come on, we’d better go before the search team gets called out on us.” Santo swaggered over to the huge red bike and swung his leg over, sliding to the back seat.

  “Okay then.” Lily tried to approach the bike with confidence too, but it grew bigger and bigger with each step. Santo was five-feet-nine, and still looked small on the machine—Lily however, was only five-four and she knew, before she even tried to swing her leg over, that there was no way she could operate it safely.

  Santo was somehow being a gentlemen and not laughing. Not wanting to look at him, she glanced back to check on the zombie. It was still heading their way, and would be close enough to see or smell them any second.

  “Yeah, we better get the hell out of here.” She tossed Santo the keys.

  Santo slid forward and plugged the key in the ignition. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Lily climbed on the bike behind him and held on around his waist. “Not a word to the guys about this,” she warned.

  “I won’t tell ‘em,” Santo promised. “If you take my laundry duty for two times.”

  “You’re such a turd, Rossano,” she feigned annoyance.

  “I’m still moving into your tent, too.”

  “We’ll see,” Lily replied tightly, but she pressed her smile into the back of his t-shirt. He smelled good, and the possibility of snuggling up to him every night was not a bad end to a rollercoaster of a day at all.

  The Cure

  Nicole Daffurn

  *This story is written in UK English*

  The downfall of our world started with the birds. One day everything was normal, the next…the birds were attacking. Not each other, no. They were attacking us, humans. Their beaks were the weapons of our demise. I’m not sure how many people died due to the bird attacks, only that the deaths were horrific. I couldn’t even imagine the horror of death by bird. I shudder at the thought of the pain the people of the city felt as those sharp beaks tore into their flesh. We probably should have known that their behaviour was the first sign that something was very wrong.

  The only comforting thought was that it was over as quickly as it started. Twenty-four hours after our feathered friends started killing humans for no apparent reason, they just died. They fell from the sky, thousands at a time. The ground was blanketed in feathers, their bodies decaying faster than I thought possible. I avoided the streets and locked myself in my home for as long as I could. I watched as council workers and helpful citizens cleaned up the mess of millions of corpses. Then I watched as the scientists poured into the city, all vying to be the first to come up with an explanation. They took some of the birds back to their labs to study them. Then it was all over.

  Or so we thought.

  It was a week later that my world was turned upside down and inside out. I was sitting on the window ledge, still thinking about the birds, and wondering whether the scientists had discovered anything. The mystery of the birds had been all over the news, and it wasn’t just Fort Collins, Colorado that had been affected. The entire world had suffered. My mum walked in just as I was about to get up, her eyes hazy, and her arms limp at her sides. She told me it was time for defence class, and as she reached for me, I knew something was wrong. I could hear screams from the street below, just like when the birds had started their assault. I looked down, turning out of my mother’s reach, and found a sight like none I had ever seen.

  People were attacking each other, ripping at each other’s arms, legs, and faces…whatever they could reach. I watched as people fell, and yet more people continued to kill without regard or thought. They went about killing, and harming others as if it was a normal part of life. Tears welled up in my eyes, and as they began to spill, I felt a hand on my back. I jumped, startled, as I remembered the hazy look in my mom’s eyes.

  I spun on the spot, my vision blurry from the tears that were escaping, and prayed as hard as I could that I had imagined her limp arms and unseeing gaze. A strangled scream escaped my mouth in the seconds that followed. My mother started tearing at my clothes, looking for a way to grip any part of my body she could reach. She was lost. I screamed for my dad but he never came. I ducked and weaved, using my defence training to bypass my mom’s clutches, and headed for the entrance.

  What I found when I got there haunted me for the rest of my days. My father lay facing the ceiling, covered in blood. Whether it was his own or someone else’s I couldn’t tell. His eyes had been gruesomely gouged from his head. Not an inch of his body hadn’t been ravaged. A kitchen knife was protruding from his chest, the very knife my mother always used to chop vegetables.

  Not stopping long enough to grieve, I pushed on through to the doorway and let myself out.

  I’m still not sure how I survived through that week from hell. I had spent most of my time moving through the sewers underground and living on food that I looted from easily accessible stores. I stayed away from all human contact, until one day the noises from above just stopped. I ventured above ground, and what I found was worse than I could have ever imagined. I could barely move through the sea of bodies underfoot. Each of the deceased lay in varying states of decay. Everyone had been murdered without regard at the hands of their own species. My stomach heaved at the smell, my eyes welled at the sight. I wondered how humans had reached a point where they no longer had any respect for life. I didn’t know how or why, but I sure as hell was going to find out why this happened.

  

  People started venturing out three days ago. There are more survivors than I first thought. I find out from those who didn’t cower beneath the city that about half the population has survived the plague that has taken the lives of more than fifty thousand people. The corpses of the dead are beginning to pose a health risk to those of us still alive.

  For the most part, we have just been wandering around in a daze, but now it is time to act. We cannot live in a world of death and decay.

  “Kelsey!” Adam yells as he runs toward me, a knife in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other. He never lets go of that knife. Never.

  “Where in the world did you get bread from?” I ask, incredulity seeping into my tone.

  “Neil!” he says, more surprised than I am. “Did you know he could bake?” I shake my head in response, and take the loaf of bread from him. It’s still warm. I breathe deeply as the smell of warm yeast wafts toward me. I take
a bite eagerly and though it is a sigh of relief, the sound that emits from my throat is involuntary. It has been weeks since I have tasted anything fresh.

  I met Adam just two days after emerging from underground. He was rummaging through a convenience store looking for food and water. We hit it off instantly, and have been traveling together ever since.

  “So what are we doing today?” he asks, like it’s just a normal day.

  “Well, we really need to get these bodies out of here.” It amazes me at how casual my voice is now, when I mention ‘bodies’ or ‘corpses’, like it’s a normal every day thing.

  “Mmm,” he agrees, with a mouthful of food. “But how?”

  “I don’t know, but I say we start with the council. We can see if anyone survived. They might have some ideas.” It’s the only option we really have. Neither of us have any other ideas.

  “Alright. Food first though,” he mutters, his mouth already stuffed full of bread. I roll my eyes at him, and take another hunk of bread.

  Walking through the almost abandoned city sends chills down my back. When the people had all gone crazy with blood lust, they had not only destroyed each other, but the city as well. It was a wreck. Trees were uprooted, entire stores were destroyed, paperwork littered the streets, and cars were piled three high. It is like a scene from a horror movie.

  We arrive at the council office before noon, and I can tell before we walk in that our chances are slim. All is quiet. I push the frosted glass door open with my foot, and utter a low squeal at the sight before me. Men in bright coloured shirts and work pants litter the floor. But that’s not the most disturbing part. Sitting behind the reception desk is another worker, but this one is alive.

  “Hello, and welcome to the Fort Collins City Council, how may I help you?” He says the words as if it’s any other day at the office. As if he isn’t sitting surrounded by rotting corpses.

  “Ah… Hi.” Adam says in return, his face skewed into disbelief.

  “How can I help you?” The man repeats.

  “Well, we were just…” Adam doesn’t finish.

  “We were wondering if there is someone who can help us start removing the bodies. You know?” I finish for him.

  “Bodies?” the council worker asks.

  “Yeah, the ones that are lying all around you right now?” Adam seems more shocked than I am at the man’s relaxed attitude.

  “Oh.” is the only reply we are given. I look at Adam worry in my gaze.

  “So? Can you help us?” I ask.

  “No, sorry. We’re closed today, you’ll have to come back.”

  “We’re not coming back mate. We need to do this now, before we all get sick.” Adam is getting angry now. I see his fists clench at his side, his knuckles whitening under the pressure. The muscle in his jaw tenses as he speaks and I can hear the crunching sound emitted from grinding his teeth.

  “No, really. You’ll have to come back.” I peer over the reception desk, and see that the man is wearing a name badge. His name is ‘John’.

  “Look John. We’re all going to end up lying here as dead as they are if we don’t do something soon.” I try to convince the man of his erroneous decision to overlook the obvious. He doesn’t reply. I sigh, and know that he is a lost cause. Before I can turn and walk out, Adam leaps over the counter, and smacks John in the face.

  “Adam! Adam stop!” I scream in a panic. My body thrusts forward in an attempt to stop him, yet my intuition tells me to stay out of it.

  “You…need…to…wake…up!” Adam screams in John’s face, each word reiterated with a firm smack to the cheek.

  Adam’s attempt to wake the man from his stupor works! John’s eyes seem to glaze over for a moment before they become wide. His breathing accelerates, and tears spring to his eyes releasing a torrent of emotion. Adam broke John’s trance, but I’m not sure he is going to be much more helpful in the crippling emotional condition.

  “Adam, just leave him. He can’t help us like this,” I whisper, sadness seeping through my tone.

  “He has to help us! We can’t do this on our own.” I close my eyes, the defeat in Adam’s voice pulling on my emotions.

  “Alright. Let’s just give him a minute okay?” I need to think, and I can’t do it while John is still whimpering in a ball on the floor.

  I walk outside to escape the noise, and take a deep breath. I heave as I think about the human bodies I am breathing in, and cover my mouth with the sleeve of my jumper, trying to filter out the stench.

  “What are we going to do now?” Adam asks, like I should have all the answers.

  “I don’t know okay! I’m a seventeen year old girl for Christ sakes! I don’t have all the answers you need me to have!” Okay, I could have been a bit nicer, there was no need to snap, but I have no idea what to do. Adam puts his arm around my back and hugs me to his side, the knife he practically sleeps with still in his right hand.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t mean…”

  “I know. I just. I don’t know what to do. We need to find out what the hell happened. We need to clean up this mess. There’s so much that needs doing, and I have no idea of where to even start.”

  “How about we start by going back in there, giving that man some food and getting him a shower?” I nod slowly in agreement, following Adam back into the council building, where we find John sitting. His gaze is distant but not empty.

  We give the burly man the half loaf of bread we were saving for later, and Adam helps him to the shower, hoping the water will wash away some of the figurative grime.

  Half an hour later, Adam joins me once more in the reception area, where I have slowly and carefully piled the bodies of the council workers into a corner while I waited.

  “He okay?” I ask quietly.

  “Yeah. He’s just getting dressed. He was a mess. I don’t know what he witnessed, but whatever it was, it was far worse than anything we saw.” Adam sighs, and closes his eyes.

  I hear a crash from behind the reception area, and look up to see John standing in the doorway, his clothes now clean, his hair still wet.

  “I believe you wanted some help?” his gaze is intent upon my own, as he speaks. He looks to me for an answer.

  “Yeah. We need to move the…” I begin. The words cut off in my throat making it impossible to continue.

  “The bodies,” he looks to the pile in the corner, fresh tears welling in the corner of his eyes. “Yeah. I can help with that.”

  

  We spend the next two days with one hundred survivors, removing the remains of the city’s people. We pile them up at the city dump, and burn their bodies to the ground. There is only one place left to collect the dead from. My home.

  Until this point, I have avoided going back there. I have avoided seeing the faces of people I know on the street, of returning to my apartment block and removing the bodies of my parents. There is no escaping it though.

  I enter the apartment through the front door. Most of my face is covered by a gas mask, and my hands by latex gloves that are at least two sizes too big. The decomposition in this part of the city is far worse than any other. This is where it had all started. The remains have been here longer, and I just know that getting the stench out of the earth, the building, and the air, is going to be near impossible.

  My father still lies at the entrance, the knife that had been lodged in his chest has fallen sideways and now lies prone on his chest. I choke back a sob, and continue through the house. It is eerily quiet, the abandoned house is the exact same way I left it. If it weren’t for the decaying bodies of my parents, you would never know that a catastrophe had happened here.

  I find my mother’s body at the back door, where she had been trying to escape. I wasn’t sure whether to expect to find her here or not. She was still alive when I had fled, but here she is, limp, lifeless, her body ravaged. I breathe deeply and the lump that has formed in my throat refuses to clear. I try to escape the confines of the apartment but my path
is blocked either way, one by my mother, the other, my father.

  I hastily strip my mask from my face, and find myself crouching on the floor between both entrances, my arms wrapped around my chest, hugging myself tight in case my heart shatters to pieces. I feel the faint trickle of moisture falling from my eyes. I haven’t cried since the day I left here, but now the salty tears flow freely, and I taste them as they enter my mouth from the sides.

  “Kels?” Adam calls, but I can’t answer him. I am lost in my own mind. I now know how John felt when we found him.

  “Kels…Oh god!” I hear his footsteps as if my head is under water, and everything is muffled. Soft hands touch my shoulders, but I can’t force myself to bring my gaze to his. I wouldn’t be able to handle seeing the sadness that I know he is harbouring for me. The coolness left behind when Adam removes his warm hands from my shoulders sends a shiver down my spine. And yet, I still don’t move. I hear faint voices but pay no attention to them. I am too stuck in my own mind to listen.

  Adam returns to me a few minutes later, his warm arms taking up residence around my own as I feel my chest tighten. He pulls me towards his body, and I fall into him, my back against his stomach, his warmth encircling me and keeping me together.

  I have no idea how long we sit on the floor like this, but after a while the tears stop, leaving my face feeling dry, and the numbness that I feel begins to lift. My back and legs ache from sitting in the same position for so long, and I suddenly feel guilty over the pain that Adam was surely feeling as well. I turn around and bury my face in the crook of his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” my voice is muffled by his clothing.

  “Don’t be sorry. I’ve been waiting for you to let it out. I’m just glad I could be here for you.” I look to Adam’s face, searching for the annoyance that I was sure I would find. But I see nothing but care for me in his features. Slowly, I lean forward and press my lips to his. It is brief, but with the kiss comes a sense of strength I am not aware that I had before. Somehow, admitting my feelings for him has drawn that strength out, and I latch onto it, not allowing it to slip from my grasp again. Adam’s grin causes a flurry of movement within me that I recognise as butterflies of excitement, and in return, my own mouth turns up into a smile that reaches my eyes.