After Tomorrow: A CHBB Anthology
Page 26
Relentless damn zombies, can’t be that freaking hungry.
Staring the zombies down with blurry vision, Leigh felt her life coming to an end. At least the children, Max, and the doctor will be safe for now.
Behind the Mask
Nicky Louise
Forgotten
Demetria Motsinger
The heat seethed across the earth at constant temperature
Hell spilled over earth in a sweeping sentence
The smell of burning flesh filled the air
The sun faded away
Angry fire tempted flaring into the dark sky
Ashes floated through the atmosphere
Darkness filled the world
The glow of death reaped from the shadows
Misery was sure to be found with each passing moment
Desolation was promised
Nothing would ever grow, nobody would ever know
Safety was for sure denied, the world was sure to end
It was sure to be a bang, but was simply a whimper
Its past will go unheard and will fade away into hell
This stricken world will cease to be
The time was borrowed all along
All the eyes that looked upon the destruction would sorrow
What is lost is now gone and they perished along with it
Long past forgotten
Until tomorrow
No Tomorrow
Catherine Stovall
What do you do, when there is no tomorrow? You live as much as you can, and you write down your thoughts in an old notebook to keep from going crazy as if someone might actually read them—or at least that’s how I do it. Since the F# virus spread across the world and killed almost everyone fifteen years ago, there’s not much else I can do. Thankfully, there are no zombies to deal with, hate to disappoint all you fans of the big screen’s shotgun toting, Twinkie loving hijinks, but it just didn’t work that way. However, there are plenty of crazy people out here in the world, and they seem to have what it takes to survive.
It happened a lot like one of those Hollywood movies, except it wasn’t some big company, diseased monkey, or dirty bomb. Before everything went to complete shit, the government traced the origins back to an insanely ordinary place. Ground Zero was some kid’s garage in Cincinnati, Ohio. That’s right. Sixteen year old Mathew Butler—science geek extraordinaire and pot head guru—got his hands on a few harmless strands of flu virus and some kinky homemade bacteria over the internet and cooked up the virus that destroyed humankind.
The only people who aren’t affected by the damn bug are the ones who are already bat shit crazy. Seriously, mental illness seems to be the only immunity against turning into a mushy pile of oozing sores and tongue biting fits. The doctors made a few million guesses as to what really kept some of us from getting sick, but none solid enough to actually create a cure before there weren’t enough scientists left to keep up the attempt. Probably the only person who could have saved us was Butler, but he ended up in a body bag from his own little experiment.
Thanks to that little punk, I’m now hiking my ass from what used to be Southeast Missouri, everything I own in a shopping cart with a broken wheel and a dirty backpack. All I want to do is make it south, past the Mason-Dixon line, and hide out at my parents’ old farm. I’m not sure why. It’s just the idea that popped into my head when I woke up a week ago and found this notebook, and it’s not like I have anything better to do. Problem is, between the wild animals and the damn Raiders, there’s little chance I’m going to survive.
I’ve traveled a long way already, following the old highways and hiding out where I can. So far, I’ve made it most of the way without incident, and as the sun is rising, it’s time to set out again.
Vincent Kovitch stuffed the weather stained notebook into his bag and stood up, stretching out his aching limbs. He’d spent the night holed up in an old gas station, writing and snacking on the single can of sausages he’d found beneath a pile of rubble. The sausages had tasted like aluminum, and he was sure he’d regret consuming them later, but there wasn’t much in the way of food left.
Slinging his pack over his broad shoulders, he scratched at the long beard, and headed out into the sunlit day. Filled with a new hope that he’d soon be back somewhere familiar, somewhere that held memories of more than heartache and loss, he smiled. Time turned back inside his mind, and reels of tape played out days of his youth as he began to trudge south.
Aliyah stood in the kitchen, next to his momma. The two of them wore aprons over their Sunday dresses as they chatted and cooked, sipping sweet tea and laughing as if they hadn’t had a care in the world. Yet, every time they looked at him, he saw the sadness in their eyes. They were proud of his decision to go into the armed forces, but the fact that he was leaving weighed heavy on their hearts.
“Momma, will you do me a favor while I’m gone?”
“Vincent, if you are going to ask me to mess with that darn car of yours, you’d best just go ask your Diddi,” her pretend stern voice brought a bittersweet smile to his lips.
Sweeping Aliyah into his arms, he kissed the top of her head, but his eyes never left the deep green of his mother’s. “Will you help Aliyah find a wedding dress? I know her momma will want to be there too, but I thought it might be fun for the three of you.”
He could feel her gasp in his embrace, and turned the girl to face him. “Will you marry me, Aliyah?”
The sound of motorcycles on the road resonated in the silence of the day, and Vince was launched out of his sweet memories into instant panic mode. Shoving the cart out of sight behind a toppled school bus, he dived for the tall grass at the side of the road. Drips of sweat pouring down his brow, his breathing coming in hitched breaths, and his gut churning, he waited.
Six Raiders topped the hill, the dirt bikes screaming into the midday like mighty beasts. In the distance, they looked like tiny wavering spots in the heat waves rising from the pavement. That was the best thing about the silence that had settled over the world after F#, every sound was louder and clearer, even from miles away.
Scavenger party, Vince thought as he hunkered lower down in the dried weeds. He might have prayed then, but he wasn’t sure about religion after all he’d seen. Instead, he thought about Aliyah more.
“What are you thinking about, Vince?” Aliyah smiled up at him, her golden hair falling over one large blue eye.
“I’m going to marry you someday, sweetheart.” He gave the porch swing another gentle push and wrapped his arms around the girl he loved. “Then we are going to live in a little house just like this and raise our kids in a town like this.”
Taking his hand in hers, she kissed his mouth with the gentle sweetness only two people truly in love can share. “You just make sure you come back here, and don’t forget about me when you’re up north, Vincent Kovitch.”
The tears in her baby blues tugged at his heartstrings as he traced the engagement ring on her finger with his thumb. “Baby, I’m always going to come back to you. Besides, what could possibly happen in six weeks that would keep us apart? It’s just boot camp.”
“The world could end,” she joked.
The riders were approaching. He could smell the taint of the crude gasoline they used to power their bikes. He’d been hoping they’d pass on by, but he heard them slow. Sickness rose up in his throat, and he tried not to fight against the instinct to flee. If they saw him, he’d never survive the day.
In the fading rumble of the bike, a man called out, “You sure it was here?”
“Yea, in the green Jeep up there,” another voice answered.
“Grab the bags, and let’s go then. It will take a couple of runs if there’s as much as you said,” the apparent leader grumbled.
The heavy clap of their boots echoed on the broken pavement, only a few feet from where
he lay. Sucking in his breath, Vince willed his body to be flat and his clothes to blend in. Terrified thoughts of being beaten or stabbed filled his mind, and his mouth went dry.
Time passed slowly as he listened to the sound of shattering glass and rough voices. Once in a while, he’d stumbled upon such a find, and had taken what he could. He’d left the rest for anyone who might stumble along later, knowing that it could save a life.
Once the pandemic had spread and the death tolls had devastated the world, people had abandoned what they could and went into hiding. That’s when the Raiders had formed, destroying and pillaging anything and everything they could. They didn’t care about anyone’s survival but their own. Their only goal was to rebuild the world and rule it as their own empire, and they’d kill anyone who wasn’t part of that plan.
The sound of the boots approaching once more sent a shiver of ice-cold fear up Vince’s spine despite the smothering heat pressing down on him. The sound was close, too close, and he knew that they’d only have to look over and see him. With his life literally hanging in the balance of chance, he squeezed his eyes shut and pictured Aliyah’s face. He’d rather be with her anyway.
When the bikes fired to life, the noise ripping apart the quiet afternoon, Vince exhaled in a long breath, and the survivalist in him kicked in immediately. Wait till they’re gone. Grab what you can from the car for supplies. Then run like hell. Get somewhere to hide. They’ve got to have a camp near here, back from the direction they came. Won’t have much time. Just hold on.
As soon as the sound of the engines faded, Vince jumped up from the grass, his feet slipping and nearly falling. In his haste to get his cart, he didn’t see the single man standing on the other side of the bus, taking a piss on the tire.
Their eyes met in a state of shock, before the man grabbed for a large knife and lunged after Vince. “Hey, get back here.”
The edge of the blade sliced into his arm, causing an instant sear of pain, and Vince whipped around. His fist slammed hard into the man’s face, breaking his nose as he withdrew a weapon of his own. The large serrated edge of the blade glinted in the light for just a second before he plunged it forward, sinking it into the stranger’s shoulder.
Screaming in pain, his opponent used Vince’s grip on the knife to pull him off balance and he stabbed again, nearly dealing a fatal blow. The two grappled in the street, stumbling and stabbing, trying to kill the other for no reason except survival of the fittest. The world was full of animals, not all of them four legged.
Finally, fate turned to Vince’s side when the Raider stumbled backward and landed on his own bike, both toppling to the ground. In one quick, hard blow, Vince jumped into action, stabbing his blade deep into the man’s chest and killing him instantly.
It wasn’t the first time he’d killed another person, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. However, he felt the guilt of such a heavy sin weighing down on him—almost as heavy as the summer sun’s rays. He wanted to linger, to say he was sorry, but the others would return soon. When they saw that someone had murdered their friend, they’d be searching for the guilty party like rabid dogs.
With shaking fingers covered in slick blood, Vincent untied the man’s shoes and slipped them off. Using his knife, he cut a strip from the man’s shirt and tied it around the wound on his arm, pulling it tight with his teeth. The act was callous, but a necessary evil in the world he lived in, where supplies were scarce and life was always one second away from ending.
The cart seemed to resist him, to bobble and catch on every lump of grass that had sprung up in the cracked pavement, as he tried desperately to reach the Jeep. At last he made it, the fear and adrenaline making his chest rise and fall with labored breath. He grabbed for whatever was in reach from the outside and hastily threw it in the cart, not even bothering to examine his spoils. They’d left very little, but he knew they’d be back, food was too important.
Looking back over his shoulder, Vincent wished he knew how to ride a motorcycle. He could’ve put miles between him and the Raiders before they discovered their fallen brother. He would be able to make it home to Alabama in hours instead of days. No time to learn now, buddy. Keep moving, he scolded himself.
Weaving in and out of the abandoned cars and debris, he forced his eyes straight as he jogged. He knew the eyes of the dead watched him, the bones of the long since perished left and forgotten as they had died in the traffic while trying to escape in flogs from the city. No time to feel the regret that he’d been the one to survive out of all the people he’d known, he fled into the distance.
I don’t want to record the horrors here. I don’t want to write the words, “I’ve killed a man.” It is true though. Even now, as I cry tears for him, I know he would have killed me first. In fact, he cut me and I defended myself. Still, the remorse is so much that I am truly sad. His death meant escape from the Raiders and food to eat. I am glad for both, but sick over watching the light fade from his eyes at my hand. Then I ran like the scared animal that I have become.
As luck would have it, the Raiders did not return in time to see me. By the time their engines roared past, I’d found this culvert beneath the road. Damn good thing it is summer. During spring or even winter, the streams would be running and I’d have had nowhere to hide. The cart is several feet away, back in a wooded area. I hoisted my food store up from a branch to keep away the bears, but hopefully there are no hungry raccoons around. The thieving little bastards can get into almost anything.
The score from the Jeep was good, and for the first time in years, I’ve had a solid meal of something other than roots and dandelions. I ate Spaghetti-O’s with meatballs right out of the can. The best damn thing I’ve ever tasted! I want to eat everything. It brings back memories of shining clean grocery stores with rows and rows of food for sale.
I want to get back on the road. I want to go home. Memories of Aliyah haunt me with every waking moment, and I know I will see her in my dreams. Home is so far away still. I can picture her there, standing in the front yard, smiling at me and waving. I know she’s gone. F# took everything I ever loved, but to be close to those places where her memory haunts is the only thing I want now. I’d die happy if I made it back home to Alabama.
The sound of motorcycles filled the early morning, rattling Vincent awake. At first, he clutched his knife, terror shaking him from his dreams. When he realized that he was still safely hidden inside the culvert, he let out his breath in a whoosh of relief. Lying back against the cold concrete, he listened. The engines roared on, and he knew they were searching. If the road didn’t turn anything up, they’d branch out to the surrounding area.
As quickly and quietly as he could, Vince slipped from his hiding spot and ran for the woods. He pumped his arms, causing the wound to ache. The short dash would have been nothing for him ten years before, but half-starved and wounded, it felt as if he would collapse before he reached his supplies.
He’d have to leave it behind, all the little things he’d collected and kept with him. The extra clothes, the tarps, ropes, bits of candle, and other things that had helped him survive. The smell of swampy water, the sight of Spanish moss hanging from the low branches of the cypress trees, and a strange tugging at his heart told him that home could be no more than a day or two away. He knew he could make it, if he could just get away.
With his pack slung over his shoulder, he cut down the pillow case full of food from the limb, and started south. The crunch of branches sounded like gunshots in his ears, and darkness clung to the woods even though the sun had risen just above the horizon. The boots kept his feet dry, but the foliage dampened his pant legs and rained dew on his uncovered head. As he trudged on, it all faded into nothingness, as the memories filled him once more.
Everyone around him was sick and dying. The entire military base had been quarantined—no one in and no one out. Protestors chanted outside the gates and barbed
wire fences, the families of the dying and dead demanding the freedom of the soldiers inside. He’d been there three weeks when the first man had fallen to the ground coughing blood and seizing. First, panic had spread, but the military quickly demanded order. By the time he reached Aliyah on the phone, they’d resigned themselves to watching each other die with an angry and subdued silence.
“Oh God, baby. Baby, are you okay. Where are you? Are you okay? Is … everyone there okay?”
Her sobs filled the distance between them, “They...they’re all gone, Vince. Momma, Diddi, even Lucy. Your family too. Everyone’s gone. It happened so fast. I’m so sorry, and I am scared. Come home, Vince. Come back. I’m all alone.”
Tears streamed down his cheeks. He’d expected to hear the words, had even doubted she was still alive, but it still hurt like hell. “I’m trying, baby. Stay inside. Stay away from everyone. Bleach everything in the house. Stay well and stay safe. Don’t leave. No matter what! You stay there. I’ll come back to you.”
Vince had walked all day without resting, and his body was screaming in pain. The world around him dipped and spun, but in the distance, he saw the sign that gave him the strength to push just a little further. It had crumpled over time, the paint had faded and become dreary, but he could read the words. He was almost there, Northport was in his reach.
His skin came alive, tingling in anticipation and his heart heaved in his chest. Glancing from the fading light on the horizon to the broken old sign, he debated. Pushing on in the dark was dangerous. Things lived in the woods, unnatural predators that had escaped from private collections and zoos. Creatures that had never been meant to roam the Alabama backwoods.