The Dead and The Living (Book1): The Dead and The Living

by Wimer, Kevin

  Chris nodded his head as he leaned back in the chair and took a deep breath—slowly letting it out. He hoped that Brandy was done poking and prodding him. He wanted to lie down. He wanted to skip the conversation that the two were about to have.

  “I have some painkillers,” Brandy said as she began drying her hands, “Tylenol . . . nothing stronger.”

  “I have some in my bag,” Chris said, pointing at his backpack lying next to his clothes, “If you need them for anyone else . . . just give me what you think I should take, and I will take them and no more.”

  Brandy nodded. She could see why Tex liked the man so well. He wasn’t like most people in this new and untamed world. He was decent.

  “I might just take you up on that offer. We are running low on various medications.”

  Chris started to stand when Brandy stopped him. She told him to rest and that when the others returned with his food, he was to eat it and then she would show him to where his living quarters would be. He could get some rest and she would check in on him in a few hours. Chris leaned back in his chair and looked at his dirty clothes. Brandy noticed him looking at his clothes.

  “Don’t worry about them. I will get someone to wash them and then return them to you in a few hours.”

  Chris looked at Brandy. It wasn’t the first time he had looked at her, but it was the first time he had truly looked at her. His heart fluttered and his breathing felt shallow. His pulse quickened. It was time. Chris knew that it was time to tell her. He could feel his heart and himself breaking as he started to speak. It was the gut-wrenching part of being a cop that he had hated—telling a family member that their loved one wouldn’t be coming home.

  “Thank you but I’m not worried about my clothes,” clearing his throat as he sat up, “I have something for you . . . Something that . . .” he paused and took a breath and let it out before speaking, “Brandy, in my right breast pocket there is a letter. It’s for you.”

  Brandy narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to the side. She wasn’t sure what to make of Chris having a letter for her. The thought of her father quickly entered her mind.

  “For me?”

  “Yes,” Chris said, feeling his heart tick a beat faster, “It’s from your father. He’s the reason that I am here.”

  Brandy turned from Chris and rushed over to his filthy clothes. She quickly rooted through them until she found the shirt that held the letter. She looked at the handwriting on the front of the letter. She felt her heart sinking to the pit of her stomach. It was her father’s handwriting. Brandy quickly opened the letter and began reading it. She placed a hand to her mouth and read it again. Chris watched as tears began to stream down the side of her face. It wasn’t but a few seconds later that Brandy fell to her knees and began sobbing like a child. Chris got to his feet and limped over to Brandy. He took her into his arms and held her as she cried. It was the only thing Chris could think to do. He knew words right now would be just that—words.

  CHAPTER 14

  Chris awoke to the early morning sun as it made its way into his room. It had been a little over a week since he had arrived at Graceland. The people for the most part had been warm and welcoming—a few were still a bit stand offish. It was to be expected. He was an outsider. Chris had been introduced to those within the scavenger parties. The men and woman of the Scavengers—a nickname given to them by those within the community—were a tight nit group. It had been Cubbie and Lailah who had taken him under their wing and introduced him to the group. Tex had kept his distance while allowing those within the group and the community itself to get to know him without influence. Chris knew it would take time for him and the members of the Scavengers to become close. It would take time for them to trust him and to form the bond that each one of them now had with one another. It was a trust that Chris had to earn and a bond he had to build. Chris was more than willing to do just that. He had yet to go on any scavenger hunts for food and other necessities needed within the community. He was hoping that within the next couple of days Brandy would release him from sickbay and back to doing normal activities and task—chores that he would be more than happy to do. Graceland was the kind of place Chris had hoped to find after the outbreak but hadn’t. Until now. He knew not to let his guard down and to allow himself to feel this safe.

  Chris rolled over onto his side and pulled the layer of blankets off him as he slowly sat up. His body still ached but not nearly as bad as it had. His ankle still hurt but like his body it too didn’t hurt quiet as bad as it had. Brandy had been right. It was just a bad sprain and with each new day he was walking less and less with a limp. He sat there on the edge of the bed for a moment while looking out the window beside him. He could see the snowcapped mountains in the distance. It was a beautiful sight to behold each morning that he awoke. Chris knew those mountains well. His grandfather used to take him hunting in those very mountains as a kid. The Shenandoah National forest was good hunting ground. It could yield them enough meat to survive without having to scavenge for food. He knew of an even better hunting grounds than that of the Shenandoah National forest. He felt a smile forming on his face as he thought about Fort Seybert West Virginia.

  The group was just fifty miles from Fort Seybert. Chris had gone there as a kid with his grandfather—visiting what little family they had left. He had hunted on family land—land that backed up to the National Forest. He pictured the natural springs that dotted the landscape of that very land. He remembered the taste of fresh mountain water and how cold it was. The natural springs ran all year—even during the hottest months of summer and during long periods of droughts. It was a valuable natural resource that he had not thought about in years—not until last week when he had first awoken to the view of the mountains before him now. Chris sat on the edge of his bed thinking about how modern civilization had not penetrated the area of Fort Seybert. It was like going back in time—back to a time without cellphone reception and the much-needed Wi-Fi for internet access. It was something he wanted to mention to Tex and to the others. Maybe it would be a good place to try and move the group too—at least the Scavengers could go and hunt the land and return a few days later with their bounty of fresh meats from the endless wild animals that roamed the countryside.

  Chris took a breath and let it out with a yawn as his body shuttered. He took another breath and rubbed his eyes and then stretched out his arms—it hurt to stretch but at the same time it felt good. It wasn’t but a few days ago that Chris couldn’t stretch without damn near bringing himself to tears. Chris stood and walked to the window. He looked down into the compound below and could see a few of the men and women that were moving about—the early birds as he called them. He turned and walked to a makeshift clothes rack. He now had enough close to change at least once a day. It was a luxury that he had missed. It was odd how having a change of clean clothes could brighten a man’s spirits. He found a shirt that would help keep him warm and when the day itself became warmer he wouldn’t get too hot wearing it. Spring was on its way. The days were starting to get longer and warmer. The landscape of Virginia would soon change too. The branches on the trees would no longer be bare. The leaves would soon start to bloom and with that it would bring a wonderful and glories lush green color throughout the Shenandoah Valley—a cleansing of winter. It was the time of year that as a kid Chris would daydream about while in class—spring break and summer vacation. He would give anything to go back to those days.

  Chris sat back down on the bed while putting on a fresh pair of socks. He leaned over and picked up the jeans that he had worn the day before—still clean—and stood as he put one leg in and then the other. He took one last look at the mountains as he stood there buttoning up his shirt. I should talk to Tex about hunting wild game for fresh meat. Wild game isn’t the only thing that the land can give us. He thought as he turned his attention from the mountains to the men and women below him who were now milling about—yapping as they did so. Graceland was starting to come aliv
e. It wouldn’t be long until it would be a beehive of activity. The early bird gets the worm. Chris smiled as he shook his head. He turned from the window and walked to the door. He stopped and picked up his rifle and slung it across his back. He placed the handgun that was lying on the stand by the door into the holster on his hip. It was time to go and get breakfast and then it would be time for his daily checkup with Brandy. He was hoping she would clear him for normal activities. Chris not only wanted to work to earn his keep but to feel useful.

  Chris opened the door and stepped out into the hallway—closing it behind him. His mind began to fill with thoughts of Brandy as he slowly began walking down the hallway. The two had not spoken about the letter or about that day. He thought about the look in Brandy’s eyes. It wasn’t just a look of sorrow and a pain that was beyond words. It was a look of feeling lost and alone. Chris knew that feeling well. He had at one time felt the same way about his own life. He had felt that way after he had lost his mother. He had been lucky to have had his grandparents and not the foster care system that most kids ended up in. Chris had seen kids who had grown up in the system—some were horror stories while others worked hard and made something of themselves. He knew that if it had not been for his grandparents, he would have been one those kids in and out of trouble and ultimately in jail or prison. Chris had been more than just lucky. He had been fortunate to have had the love and care that he had had while growing up. Brandy in a sense was lucky too—she just couldn’t see it. She had family—a family that before the outbreak were nothing more than mere strangers to her. She had a group of people surrounding her that not only loved and cared deeply for her but would do anything for her. It was rare to have that in life, especially now that the world had gone to shit.

  Chris turned the corner and began walking down a set of metal stairs to the ground floor of the warehouse. He could feel a dreadful feeling consuming him and his thoughts. He couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty that somehow, he was the one to blame for her father’s death. It was a burden he had been carrying since he had found Carl lying on the bathroom floor—a burden driven home by the letter that had been pinned to Carl’s chest. Chris reached the bottom of the stairs and took a few steps while trying to push those dreadful thoughts of guilt from his mind. It was a feeling that gnawed at him and one that he couldn’t shake. He looked over his shoulder as people began coming out of their makeshift bedrooms. The warehouse Chris had found shelter in housed a rather large portion of the population at Graceland. Chris smiled as he waved at the residents. The residents returned the wave with a reply of good morning. Chris was starting to make some headway with the residents at Graceland. He still had a long way to go and he knew it would take some time but at least the residents were starting to warm up to him and to the idea of him being one of them.

  Chris turned and walked through a set of doors that lead to the outside. The early morning rays of sun greeted him as he stepped out from within the warehouse and into the courtyard that he had been looking at from his bedroom window moments before. The warmth of the sun’s rays was comforting. He closed his eyes and turned his head towards the sky—allowing the rays to warm his flesh and ease his troubled mind. Chris took a breath and let it out. It was the small things in life that he had come to cherish. The feeling of the sun’s rays on his exposed flesh. The early morning greetings of others within the camp. It was all the little things that he had taken for granted before the outbreak. He opened his eyes and vowed to himself that he would never take the simple things in life for granted again. It was the simple things that made life worth living—even in this shitty world he found himself living in now. Chris walked across the courtyard and to a building that was referred to as the meeting house. It was were the residents of Graceland ate their meals and had their meetings—some were social meetings while others were about the well-being of the camp.

  Chris opened the door and stepped inside the building. He could see that a rather large line had already started to form. He had been beaten by the men and woman that he had nicknamed the early birds. Some of those men and women would soon be heading off to work. Chris knew that a few of them were a part of the security force that guarded the gates of Graceland while others were a part of the general work force. It wouldn’t be long until the tables would start to fill with those who had worked the night shift—pulling guard duty while others rested safely in their beds. Chris wasn’t sure who was on night shift this week—maybe Cubbie and Lailah. The two had wanted to give some of the others a bit of a break. The sum of their losses from last week’s run in with the bandits had taken an emotional toll on the group and the residents of Graceland. It wasn’t just the young woman who had died from her wounds. Chris had learned that six others had been killed. Seven in total. The number of those that had been wounded had been far higher than that of the dead. Tex and Brandy both agreed that they had been lucky and that things could have been much worse. It was a tragic loss for the group and for Graceland. Seven lives cut short and for what? It was a question that each of them would ask themselves for years to come. The bandits needed to be rooted out and swiftly dealt with.

  Chris’s mind began to drift deeper into thought about that day and about the bandits and the men and women who had been killed and wounded. His mind started to slip off into that dark and damaged place he had tried to keep hidden from himself when his stomach growled and brought him back to the here and now. He blinked his eyes as the foggy haze of thought cleared from his mind. He looked at the line of people in front of him as it started to move forward. He took a breath and let it out in hopes of calming his nerve. The sounds of the meeting house filled the air as he walked over to an area that had trays staked on top of each other. Chris pulled a tray from the stack and then grabbed a plate and some silverware—his spoon looked as if it had seen better days. The edges of it were chewed up and sharp and looked as if it would make for a great weapon to kill walkers with.

  Chris started take his place in line when a voice greeted him.

  “Good morning Chris.”

  Chris looked down the line and found Hector standing behind one of the steam tables. He was serving food to those who were waiting patiently in line for their breakfast.

  “Hector,” Chris called out, “Good morning my friend.”

  Chris had met Hector his first night at Graceland. Hector had brought him a bowl of soup and a peanut butter sandwich that Marth had made. He had found Chris holding Brandy who was sobbing uncontrollably. Hector had started to rush into the makeshift shower room when he realized what was going on. Chris was holding Brandy in his arms—rocking back and forth while trying to console her as she sobbed uncontrollably. Hector stood there with the tray of food in his hands watching and listening as Chris told Brandy that everything was going to be okay. It was in that moment Hector noticed that Brandy was holding a letter. He could see the handwriting and knew it was from her father. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach with heart break.

  “What do we have for breakfast this morning?” Chris asked as the line moved and he took a couple of steps forward.

  Hector beamed with a smile. Chris knew that smile. He raised a brow and made a face of uncertainty as Hector spoke.

  “Scrambled eggs topped with black beans and a dash of hot sauce and some homemade salsa,” his smile grew wider knowing the face of disgust that Chris made would soon change once he took his first bite.

  “Maybe I better skip breakfast,” Chris said with a chuckle as he moved on down the line.

  Hector shook his head and chuckled a laugh as he scooped out a rather large portion for a young man waiting in line. Chris didn’t recognize the young man and thought that he must be a newcomer. The man looked over his shoulder and stared at Chris. It was the kind of star that just didn’t set right with him. Something felt off. Chris thought the young man was in his late teens—maybe early twenties. He studied the man for a moment—watching him as he walked away from the line in search of a table. The young
man had an air about him. It was the way he carried himself. He seemed a bit cocky. Chris’s mind began to drift into the thought about the young man when Hector spoke.

  “Don’t knock it until you try it my friend . . . Trust me,” placing a large portion of the unimaginable concoction onto Chris’s plate, “You are going to want an extra helping of this . . . It will become your new favorite.”

  Chris and Hector had become fast friends. The two had hit it off from the get-go. Hector had been a maintenance worker for James Madison University before the outbreak. He had grown up in the area and had lived most of his life in the city of Harrisonburg. His wife and daughter had been killed during the outbreak. Hector blamed himself for their deaths. He had been called into work that night. One of the other maintenance workers had called out sick—probably dead now or one of the walkers. Hector talked little about that night—even less about his family. It was far too painful for him. Hector was a part of the Scavengers and helped in the kitchen when they were shorthanded. He loved to cook and was a genius at it. Hector could take things that didn’t belong together and make them a culinary masterpiece.

  “Well, you haven’t made anything that I haven’t liked . . . So . . . I’m betting this will be just as good if not better than everything else,” Chris said as he looked at the plate of food.

  The concoction didn’t look to appealing but it smelled heavenly. Chris was either starving or it really was that good. The aroma caused his mouth to water and his stomach to rumble. He looked at the salsa that topped the concoction—it looked as if it had been made with fresh tomatoes.

  “I grew the tomatoes myself,” Hector said, noticing Chris looking at the salsa, “I have a small green house . . . I plan on growing a lot of fresh vegetables this spring and summer,” turning away from Chris he picked up a bottle without a label, “How about a dash of hot sauce? It will give it kick that will help start your morning off right.”