Dawnland (Book 1): Pockets of the Dead

by Karen Carr

  “You haven’t seen a woman in a while, huh?” I asked, attempting a laugh.

  He tightened his grip on my hand. “How could you say that?” There was anger in his voice. “You think I attack any woman that I run into and maul her like that?”

  “No, I said I didn’t think you’ve seen a woman in a while. Have you?” I was beginning to get an uncomfortable feeling. I had thought he was alone, had been alone as long as I had.

  “That doesn’t matter,” he said, not answering my question. “When I saw you today. . .” he paused and stared into space before he turned to me. “When I saw you today I felt something that I wasn’t used to feeling.”

  “Lust,” I offered. He squeezed my hand.

  “Oh fuck,” he said. “You don’t think I’ve ever felt lust? I feel lust when I see a woman straddling a motorcycle in a magazine, or in a bikini at the beach.” He looked at me like I was crazy, then like I was something else, his destiny maybe, and then he looked away again. “This is something else, some other part of my anatomy is involved.” He brought our hands to his heart, but kept looking out the door. “And I don’t get it.”

  “Maybe it’s too soon to get anything,” I said, pulling away from him. I wanted to stop the heat. It was too intense, too soon. Those types of relationships never worked out. “Maybe we just need to hang out for a while and talk—get to know each other. I’ve got a fire upstairs—and marshmallows.”

  “Marshmallows—geez, really?” He rolled his eyes and smiled.

  “Yea, and ice cream, it makes me feel normal.” I managed a smile of my own.

  “Ok, let’s go feel normal,” he said. He jumped to his feet and helped me up. “And don’t look at me like that anymore; it’s going to make me forget normal.”

  “Okay, ditto,” I said. “We won’t look at each other. We’ll just talk like strangers, or old friends.”

  “Old friends,” he agreed and we went up the stairs.

  When he walked into my apartment, he was startled to see how nice and warm it was. He walked around marveling at all the books, the music collection, and especially the fire. He picked up a guitar and caressed it, making a few notes, and then moved on to a metal sculpture of two flamingoes entwined by their necks. He finally stopped at a black and white photograph of a dead raccoon on the street.

  “I was going to take that one down.” I averted my eyes from the picture. “It’s a little too morbid for me.”

  “After all the dead bodies you’ve scavenged, this is too morbid for you?” Huck gave me an unbelieving look.

  “Scavenged?” The word made me feel uncomfortable.

  “I’m sorry, Hella.” He slouched on one of the two leather chairs by the fireplace. I sat on the thick Flokati rug and grabbed some marshmallows, which I had by the fire. I put some on two sticks, handing one to Huck.

  “You really have marshmallows.” He smiled, slid from his chair, and sat next to me on the rug.

  “Marshmallows, apparently, can survive for many years. I read it in one of my survival guides.” I stuck my marshmallow in the fire.

  He laughed and then I laughed at him laughing. We gazed into the fire for a long time before he began to talk.

  “Where I grew up, we used to hunt in woods so thick with brush that you couldn’t see the ground.” Huck stared into the fire like he was remembering the scene in front of him. “Water wells were hidden all over the woods. They were old and deep, waiting for us like traps. If you didn’t know where they were, you’d fall in and if you were alone, you would die.” He paused to eat a slightly burnt marshmallow. “That’s what I have felt like, like I was trapped in a well, scrambling to get out. If I scrambled too hard, if I moved too much, I would slide deeper down into the wretched earth.” He looked at me with an unblinking stare. “I feel like I can get out now. I feel like I can breathe.”

  I took another marshmallow and stuck it on his stick. “There was a park near where I grew up on the south side of Chicago. The park was huge but it was abandoned by most people because of the wild dogs. They were everywhere. Wild dogs would race through the park in packs, sometimes over a dozen. They would eat anything that got in their way, including people.” My marshmallow ignited in flames.

  “I suppose it’s a good thing that animals aren't affected by this virus.” Huck put his stick down.

  “Packs of zombie dogs? We’d never win. They’re too fast.” His knee touched my hip, making me aware of my bite. I pulled my shirt down.

  “You think we can win now?” he asked, tracing patterns in the rug. I followed his strong callused fingers through the thick shag, resisting the temptation to touch them.

  “Yea, I do,” I said. “We can win here. We’re protected.”

  “What? Me and you?” He sat up again and looked very serious. He kept staring at me with that gaze, making me want to break our promise to focus on friendship. The warmth of the fire made my face feel extra hot, so I stood up and moved to the bar.

  “You want some wine?” I asked while I poured myself a glass.

  “No thanks,” Huck said, standing up. “What we need is some music.” He went over to the stereo system, and the CDs lining the case above it, and started rummaging around. “This person has great taste, blues, jazz, pop, classical, country, how about some blues?”

  “Too depressing,” I said.

  “You’re right, but that can be good sometimes. Listening to depressing music actually cheers me up,” He paused and gave me a quizzical look. “But not you—I get it. It doesn’t work for everybody.” Huck put the CD back. “How about this?” He held up a CD that I liked.

  I nodded my head, and he put the CD in the deck. Low, soft music filled the room.

  “Much better.” Huck took a seat on the cushioned bench below the loft windows. “I haven’t heard music since my batteries lost their charge. Music makes the world bearable for me; it makes me feel like there’s a future. If I close my eyes, I can almost see myself in another moment—a good one. What does it for you?” He kicked up his heels on the cushions and rested his head on the armrest.

  “Books, I guess.” I took a sip of wine. “I listen to music every day, but for background while I do other things like read.”

  “Books can be fun,” he said. “Like the classics? Dante’s Inferno? Machiavelli’s the Prince? Or are you a romance girl?”

  “Mostly science,” I said, and then asked, “You read Dante’s Inferno?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. I might not have a college education, which was a correct assumption on your part, but I find books to read wherever I go.”

  “I didn’t assume…”

  “Sure you did,” he cut me off. He was right. I found myself sitting next to him, although I didn’t remember moving there. It was like his body just called for mine to be next to it.

  “I’m working on a paper.” I glanced at the pile of notes on my desk next to my laptop and wondered if Huck would be interested in reading my research. “About the migration patterns of the undead. They clump together and split apart like water flowing around boulders in a river. I was able to observe them before I got here.”

  “Where were you when it happened?” Huck asked. He tapped along to the music with his fingers.

  “Just down the block in the apartments. It’s not safe over there. It’s out of the circle of death.” I watched his fingers beat his knee.

  “You know how far the circle goes?” he asked as he stopped his drumming. “We should mark it with some spray paint or something.”

  I couldn’t tell him it depended on where I stood and that the circle of death was a 1000 foot radius from there. I walked over to my desk and found the map I made of the boundaries and handed it to him. I had color coded the area where I stayed mostly dark green and shaded the areas where I didn’t travel often lighter green to yellow. “It fluctuates. Sometimes it’s closer and sometimes it’s nearer to the center of Oval Park Place, but the center always seems to be safe and all of the shops and apartments
around it are safe as well.”

  “This is a great map, Hella.” He traced the outline of the map with his finger.

  “You ever left since you found out about it?” he asked, still staring at the boundaries of the map like he was memorizing the streets. “I don’t think I’d be able to stay confined like that.”

  “No,” I said. Shivers ran through my body. Confined. He was going to leave. “I’ve been working on my projects; you know there is a lot to do around here. I want to get the rest of the bodies cleaned up. I have to make sure I have enough food for the winter, not just marshmallows, and I want to plant a garden in the spring. There’s enough to keep me busy for years.”

  “Yea, I’m sure there is,” he said. He looked awkward, distant, like he wanted to say something else but didn’t know how. “Champagne!” he said instead. He walked over to the bar. “Let’s make some resolutions, like its New Year’s.” He poured some champagne in two glasses and handed me one.

  “You first.” He handed me a glass.

  I couldn’t think of any. I was still stuck on the fact that he didn’t like being confined. I could leave with him. We could travel anywhere, but we would never have a home. I wanted a place to call home, to rebuild my life. I wanted to find others and bring them here. Stan and Saudah might be out there somewhere. I wanted to find them when I felt stronger, like in the spring. I wanted to have a chance to start over, to build a community. On the road, that would be impossible.

  “Alright, me first,” Huck said. “I resolve to treat every human being I meet with respect and dignity. I resolve to always be honest and to carry myself like my mother wanted me to.” He clinked my glass with his and drank a sip. “I make that resolution every year since my mom died.”

  “How are you at keeping it?” I sniffed the champagne.

  “Mostly pretty good,” he said.

  “My turn.” I held up my glass. “I resolve to help bring back humanity to this earth, in however which way I can. I resolve to help save the human race.” I took a big gulp, holding my breath so I wouldn’t spit it out. I did not like champagne.

  “That’s a big one.” He leaned closer to me. “And hard to do on your own.”

  “Well, maybe you could help.” I leaned closer to him.

  He looked uncomfortable, like I had said something that was impossible. “Are you sure you want to wear that?” he asked, touching my bracelet. He was trying to change the subject. He examined each little charm on the bracelet. There was a dolphin, a key, a treasure chest, a squirrel, scissors, a bull dog, a horn and more.

  “Who do you think gave her this?” Huck asked.

  “If she was like my sister, each of her friends gave her one of the charms. That’s why I want to keep it. Because it reminds me of my sister.” I shook the bracelet in the air and it jingled.

  “She had a lot of friends. It’s beautiful.” He touched my forehead with his lips. “So are you.”

  I pressed my body into his chest and curled my head into his neck. “My resolution is coming true. I’m bringing back a little humanity already.”

  “What do you think is happening to us?” He caressed my hair. We didn’t say anything to each other for a few moments, just rested in each other’s arms and listened to the music and the crackle of the fire.

  “Shit,” he finally said. “I don’t know what to do.”

  I didn’t either. “Would you help me burn some more zeroes tomorrow?” I offered.

  He laughed. “Maybe,” he said. “Can I kiss you one more time?”

  Before I could answer, his lips touched mine. They were so soft and gentle. His tongue slipped into my mouth and wrapped around my tongue. His mouth was warm and tasted like mint toothpaste and champagne. While I was with him, like this, I could not think of tomorrow, nor yesterday, only just now and a little bit of what’s next.

  But then other thoughts started entering my mind. Huck’s freshly shaven jaw rubbed my cheek and I wondered if he borrowed someone’s razor. I tried to relax as his hand caressed my neck, but then I smelled the soap and wondered whose body the bar had run across before. He kissed me again, and this time the toothpaste made me think of the previous owner. I couldn’t get the picture on his driver’s license out of my head. I had tears in my eyes when I pulled away.

  “I know it hurts,” Huck said. “It hurts me too. We are both lost.”

  He held me gently while I cried in his arms. It was the first time I felt safe enough to cry.

  Chapter 7: Another Day Matters

  November 19th

  501 Oval Park Place

  Haverlyn Village

  Sunrise found its way into my room and across the sheets where I slept, waking me as it hit my eyes. For a moment, it seemed like every other day that I had woken up post-apocalypse. Every morning I was filled with hope, which would soon turn to dread when I realized that I was still alone. But this day was different.

  This day I saw a shirtless Huck sitting on the window sill, the sunlight highlighting the dragon tattoo on his shoulder. The dragon was fierce and mean with blood-red eyes. It had a branch in its mouth and another in its talon. The branches could have been bones, a humerus or femur, but I chose to believe they were sap-filled.

  It was amazing to find Huck, but I still felt doubt about my crazy mixed-up feelings. I didn’t know if my passion was for him, like I truly wanted to be with him, or because he was the first person I’d seen that wasn’t dead in over a month. He was so hot and incredible, it was easy to thirst after his body, and I felt a deep connection to him. I could never imagine being without him, those feelings had to be real.

  “Hey,” he said when he noticed I was awake. He was drinking a coffee. “I made you one.” He gestured to my night stand. His face was serious and distant, almost cold. It gave me the chills.

  “Thanks,” I said. He had found some creamers and sugar packets and placed them next to my cup. I added the creamer and tasted the warm brew as Huck sat down at the edge of the bed. When he changed his mind, stood up again and sat by the window I knew something was up.

  “What?” I asked to break the silence and to get answers.

  He looked at me like he was trying to size up the response I would give to an unasked question.

  “There are others,” he said. The words hit me like a volt.

  “Others? You are kidding.” I jumped from the bed and kneeled in front of him. He reached down to touch my hair, the contact made me tingle. “What kind of others? Like real people? How many? Where? Can you bring them here?” Hearing that there were others made me feel like I had just taken a shot of vodka and jumped into a freezing lake.

  “I didn’t think,” he paused, and then laughed. His face, once again, showed that smirk. “This sounds really strange, but I didn’t think you would want to share what you had here.”

  “Share?” I asked. “Did you forget about my resolution? I can’t wait to have more people here.” I jumped up on the couch.

  “Ah, your resolution.” He smiled at me and pulled me up to his lap. His hands were cold on my flesh and gave me shivers. He tried to slip my shirt over my head and I pulled away. I had to pull away. This wasn’t the time for intimacy and I wasn’t ready to show off my bite mark, especially knowing there were others. He would tell his friends.

  “So, how many?” I asked, holding my breath for the answer. What if there were a couple of dozen, or several hundred? I’d have a lot of work to do to prepare the apartments.

  “Seven adults and two kids,” Huck said.

  I let out my breath in a disappointed snort. “Nine people? That’s it?”

  “What were you expecting?” Huck sounded aggravated. “It’s the apocalypse, sweetie, most everyone else is dead. Trust me; I’ve driven around the best part of the south east. Sure there are some crazy freaks out there, but not much normal going on.”

  “Your friends are normal?” I asked. Nine wasn’t so bad, it was better than none. And kids. There were kids. Kids needed to be nurtured, protecte
d. They needed to come right away.

  He took a strand of my loose hair and tucked it behind my ear. “For the most part, they are good.”

  “I’m sure they are,” I said. What did I have to lose? If it turned out they were evil, all I had to do was walk away and leave them in the village. The mysterious zero killing effects would travel with me and they would be eaten or turned into the undead. If they didn’t figure out that I was the one carrying the protective virus, they wouldn’t care if I left. That was one more reason to keep my secret from Huck.

  “So I can bring them here?” he asked.

  “You don’t have to ask my permission.” I pulled myself from his lap and sat next to him.

  “Sure I do. You’re the unofficial mayor of this village, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “You mean as the sole survivor?” I asked.

  “It’s sort-of like a new inheritance, don’t you think?” he asked.

  “So, if I am mayor, can you be sheriff?” I asked.

  “I don’t think Zeke would like that,” Huck said. “He’s the boss. It’s always been like that with us. He’s a good guy, don’t get me wrong, but he is a bit stubborn. I’ve known him for all of my life.”

  Huck proceeded to tell me about the rest of them. They were tucked away in the mountains, about three hundred miles from here. They were safe, hiding out on a small island in the middle of Lake Lure. But they were running out of supplies and wouldn’t be able to last over the winter without heat. The roads were slippery and muddy and half of them were washed out. He said it will be worse in the winter, that’s why he left. He was scouting for a new place to live.

  He then told me how it happened, which left me feeling like an idiot and a coward—an idiot because I had previously felt sorry for myself and a coward because I hadn’t done anything to rescue my own friends. Huck was fishing with his friend Zeke and his brother’s widow, Eliza on Lake Lure. Zeke’s family owned several cabins on the lake and let them stay in one. They had planned to spend a week there, fishing and relaxing and reminiscing about old times, before Huck moved on again. I didn’t ask where he was planning to go, but he made it sound like it was something he did a lot.