Ally sits lost in her thoughts in the passenger seat next to Ray inside the lead vehicle as she helps him navigate through the suburban streets as quietly and as quickly as possible. She had also traced out several paths on the map that Jim had with him as he played navigator for Laura in the support vehicle behind them. With the decaying condition of the city and with the roaming bands of the insane and starving you never knew what unforeseen obstacles could have arisen since the last time anyone had driven any type of vehicle down these dilapidated city streets. Only the engines of the trucks speak as both groups ride in silent concentration, all of them on high alert for any signs of danger from the gashers or from anything else they still have yet to see.
Chapter Twenty Six
He stands watching the taillights of the trucks disappear over the next rise, full for the first time in months from dining on the fallen dead inside the house, the blood still drying on his face in the light breeze. Several of the others were hunched over and vomiting both from eating to much to fast and from their stomachs not being used to the heaviness of ingesting so much raw meat and fresh blood. Unable to give chase after the mini convoy (despite the energy that the protein dense meal of meat and blood had provided) because he is unable to take in full breaths due to his lungs slowly filling with the unfiltered ashes that he still continued to breath. The ashes were slowly filling his lungs and mixing with his natural fluids, slowly and efficiently turning the ashes into a crude form of cement inside his body. So he stands and watches. Belly extended out unnaturally, like a snake after a fresh meal from gorging himself with the opportunistic feast. His still horribly dehydrated and oxygen deprived body won’t listen to his mind as he begs it to follow them, to chase them. Muttering a gargled moan as he takes a convulsing step forward in the direction the taillights had disappeared in, he accidentally kicks something previously unseen lying on the ground in the dark and the mud. Hypnotized by the draw of the red lights in the canvas of blackness like a moth to a flame in the dead of night, he hadn’t noticed anything lying at his feet as he had taken his stumbling step forward. Bending over and picking up what he had kicked, he tries to hide his surprise and excitement as he quickly looks around searching for anyone that would have noticed him find this treasure. Seeing no one looking in his direction he makes his way around the far side of the little house as quickly as his lungs and emaciated legs will allow him to. No longer able to remember his name or who he was. No longer able to read, write, or to even have the ability to speak, it is primitive instinct alone that understood the value of what luck had just allowed him to find. Twisting off the cap of the bottle he begins to weep slow small tears causing his eyes to burn hotter as the tears blaze their trail trough the raw wasteland of flesh that rims them. His moans of pleasure from the relief that the sweet, cool taste of the water (he was lucky enough to have found lying on the ground) provides to his scorched and ruined throat are thankfully swallowed up by the ashes and the darkness the surrounds him. Weak, hopeless, and dying his thirst and his hunger both quenched for the moment he begins to long for warmth and rest. Weeping at his own disparity, it is the first time in over a week that his throat doesn’t burn as his slow controlled sips of the life giving water temporarily put out the flames the ashes and thick salty blood had ignited. He slowly emerges from his hiding place, no longer able to see the taillights off in the distance, hidden and shadowed in the dark from the light the now burning house emits. Evidentially during the chaos of the feeding frenzy someone must’ve ignited the back room setting the entire house ablaze. He slowly turns and heads towards a garage where he knows a warm bunched up pile of blankets awaits him. There he will find his short, peaceful reprieve. Until the hunger and the thirst drive him back out to hunt once more.
”If you are depressed you are living in the past, if you are anxious you are living in the future, if you are at peace you are living in the present”
– Lao Tzu
Chapter Twenty Seven
As Ray leads Laura up over the hill towards the edge of town and Ally’s group he is consumed by the cruel contradiction between his longing to be home with his wife Sophia and his beautiful twin girls Lily and Rose and the dread he feels at having to tell Holly about the loss of her husband and her young daughter Belle about the loss of her father. He still can’t believe the whole Colt incident. And now there was Clay. He was going to have to tell Veronica, the unspoken matriarch of the compound that her husband, her partner, and his best friend was soon to follow step for step in Colt’s mortal footprints. And Cain, how was he going to find the strength to break the news to Cain. His sigh fills the truck as he begins to imagine how this was all going to affect everyone at the compound. Life there will never be the same. This godforsaken damned darkness! He shakes with anger at the unfairness of the world, the unfairness of his situation, and he is angry at his feelings of helplessness at not being able to do a damn thing about either one of them. He looks up to check on Laura and the second truck in his rear view mirror wishing he had been more forceful on insisting Levi had ridden in the lead truck and notices that a house a few streets over from the dr.’s office had been set on fire. The irony of the flames standing out against the darkness in this paper mache’ version of the world like a burning sadistic representation of the sun shining against the perpetual blackness of space was not lost on Ray. Recognizing the ever rising worry he had for Levi and his family as well as his need to get his mind on something, anything else he turns to Ally and asks, “So tell me something Ally, why do you guys call the people left roaming around town gashers?”
Chapter Twenty Eight
Broderick sits in the kitchen watching through a cut out slot in the boarded up window for any signs of movement that would signal Ally’s return. His stomach was eating itself with worry and nervousness at thinking something might have happened to the girl. He glances over at Xander who had finally been able to fall asleep on the couch after Broderick had talked him into accepting some pain medication for the severely broken leg he had sustained the last time the two of them had been able to go out on a scavenging run. Broderick had told him to take the meds and to try to relax, that sitting here watching out of the window and staring out into the darkness wasn’t going to bring Ally back any sooner. Now he sits in the exact same spot at the window doing the exact same thing. His sigh is full of despair and worry as it reverberates through the kitchen of the house. He begins to think about how life used to be in the light of the sunshine and reminiscing on how he had met his wife Jackie while he had attended classes at Tulsa University, over in Oklahoma. He was enrolled on a football scholarship but understood that his future most likely didn’t lie within the NFL so he was a science and education major. That’s how he had meet Jackie, through his classes not football. And because of that he had known instinctively that she was the one he had waited all of his life for. She wasn’t a cheerleader or an athlete. In fact she didn’t even like sports, especially football. Its violence appalled her. Broderick chuckles to himself as he thinks about his pacifist wife and how funny love can be sometimes. “Modern day gladiators and slaves killing each other in an arena to the rhythm of the applause of the masses over greed and the desire to be free” was how she had always described football. Jackie had been a history and education major so all of her analogies had some type of historical event at its base. His smile is broad and genuine as he thinks about how the only thing that they ever had in common in those days was their desire to teach and be positive influences on young minds. But despite the overall lack of common interests he had fallen so desperately in love with her that just being in her presence had made his body tremble with yearning and desire and his skin cover itself in goose bumps. So he had chased her, everyday, like she was a running back going in for the winning touchdown. Until finally one day she let him catch her. He had finally won her heart and in honor of winning his most desired possession he had loved her from the deepest parts of his soul everyday of his life since.
/> That’s how they had meet Ally and her father. Ally had been a sophomore at the local high school where he and his wife had been teachers here in Arkansas. Ally was an exceptionally bright, but melancholy girl that Jackie had recognized greatness in through, of all things, her poetry. Jackie was also one of the guidance counselors at the school and she knew Ally had just lost her mother due to a horrific car accident the summer before beginning high school. Ally’s freshman year had been full of obstacles and strife as she had fought to find some type of identity. Battling internally over the unfairness of life and the lack of value that she now saw lying within it. Jackie had begun tutoring and mentoring Ally after school and before long they had developed a genuine friendship. Ally’s grades and attitude began to improve by leaps and bounds over the next few months as Jackie willingly seemed to fill the mother role in Ally’s life she so desperately needed. Her father Alexander had started bringing Ally over to the house to babysit for them on the rare occasion they were able to get a night to themselves and over time the families had birthed a beautiful friendship in spite of being born out of the tragedy of Ally’s mothers’ death. He is still smiling as his eyes begin to tear up slightly from the emotions of the memories as he hears his oldest son Benny rush into the room and exclaim, “Dad, moms not breathing!”
Chapter Twenty Nine
“Well we didn’t start calling them gashers until Mr. Brick and Mrs. Jackie described to us what was happening to the people and why they acted the way that they did” Ally begins, as she looks out of her window in the direction of a burning house that now could be seen off in the distance to the right of the vehicle. “Why do they act that way and what’s happening to them? I mean if they’re not zombies, why do they look and act like they’re zombies?” Grant asks from the backseat finally seeming to emerge from his catatonic state. “There is an old saying, I guess it’s old anyway, that my dad and Mr. Brick would always use when the riots and fighting first started” Ally turns and looks at Grant as she finishes, “Four days to animal.” “Which means what exactly” Ray asks from the driver’s seat. Ally turns back around facing forward as she begins to explain what she had been taught about the people left in town that they had begun calling “gashers”. “Four days to animal describes how it only takes the average person four days without food and water to resort back to their basic animalistic instincts. They become deranged and disoriented. Some even start having hallucinations. And they will eat and drink things that just a week before would have made them gag just to survive.”
“Ok I’m with you so far. I’ve actually heard something about that. Clay and I used to talk about it when we were sharing our stories about escaping out of the cities after the FEMA camps started failing.” Ray sighs while Ally nods her head from the passenger seat as Ray continues, “I mean we’ve all seen some pretty crazy stuff by now.” Sighing again Ray turns to Ally and finishes, “so anyway, that’s what they call it huh. Four days to animal?” Ally continues, “Yes sir. That’s how my dad and Mr. Brick figure it started. With groups of people that just didn’t have anything to eat or drink for days. Then after the eruption most people didn’t or couldn’t get filters or dust masks so they started breathing in all the gases and ashes that fell over this whole area for months.” Ally pauses looking out of her window as the memory of the chaos that initially followed the eruption overwhelms her. She exhales a long sigh herself before restarting, “Anyway, after breathing in all of the gases that settled throughout the valleys and long periods of breathing unfiltered ashes, after constantly being on the border of starvation and dehydration, forever malnourished, people started to act, well for lack of any other definition, like zombies.” Ally turns around to look at Grant again as she continues, “But they are not zombies, just unfortunate people.” “Yeah I kind of get that know” Grant says, his voice heavy with sarcasm as he briefly turns and looks back in the direction of the now fully ablaze house that the showdown with the gashers had taken place in yesterday. Visibly embarrassed at his initial reactions to the encounter with the townspeople and annoyed at the fact that no one seems to be able to let it go. “After awhile they seem to lose their ability to come back from acting like an animal to being able to act like a person again” Ally continues, “Somehow they also lose their ability to speak. Mrs. Jackie says it’s from their throats and vocal chords being so damaged from breathing the ashes. After that they lose any ability to run or chase anything for very long because their lungs develop silicosis and form a kind of ash cement that slowly fills up their lungs and cuts off their air ducts making their bodies oxygen deprived” Ally turns back around to face front again as she finishes, “That’s why they take short quick breaths.”
“And that’s why you call them gashers. They are the way they are because of the prolonged hard ships of living out in the wild of this dark, unforgiving hell on earth” Ray states flatly. “The combination of dehydration and malnutrition coupled with the breathing in of unfiltered volcanic gases and ashes created a starving and desperate new class of people” Ray summarizes with an edge of frustration at Ally’s statement. “Pretty much” Ally confirms, “We just combined the words gases and ashes and started calling them gashers.” “Gashers” Grant echo’s from the backseat. “Plus it’s a whole lot easier than always referring to them as what they really are” Ally adds. “And what are they really?” Ray asks. “Roaming hoards of dying cannibalistic lunatics of course” Ally states flatly causing all three of them to share a short nervous laugh momentarily letting Ray forget his worries and frustrations.
Chapter Thirty
“Is mom going to be ok dad?” Benny asks from behind Broderick as he continues administering CPR to his dying wife. “I don’t know Benny. But can you do me a favor buddy?” He asks his oldest son, who in his attempt to be helpful is in actuality being more of a distraction. “Yes sir” Benny answers, momentarily inflated with pride at the fact that his dad has ask him for help. “Could you go check on your brother and Mr. Xander for me please? They should be waking up anytime now and they’re going to want to know what’s going on” Broderick turns and looks at his son as he finishes his request, “Can you do that for me big guy?” Benny again answers with “Yes sir” but with much less gusto this time. The way his father had just looked at him had raised a lot of unasked questions that were answered just as quickly by his father’s falling tears as Benny slowly turns away from his parents’ room with his head looking down staring at his feet as he goes to carry out his father’s wishes. The pride he had felt when he was first asked to help was all but gone now. The last time his dad had called him big guy was when his cat had been run over by a car in front of their house. Benny walks down the hallway leaving a trail of his own tears in his wake as he realizes that his mother has just lost her fight with her illness and that just like his cat, she will be buried out back underneath the old oak tree.
Ray swings the vehicle into the driveway and begins making his way to the house that sits off into the distance. “Nice place” Ray murmurs. “It’s been in Mr. Brick’s family for like, generations or something like that. His great, great, grandfather supposedly had earned his freedom fighting in the revolutionary war I think. His family was the first freed blacks in the state of Arkansas. There’s a monument and everything about it in front of the courthouse on Main Street” Ally says. Ray whistles his astonishment at such an incredible piece of family and American history. “One question” Ray says as he pulls up at the end of the driveway and kills the engine. “Hmmmm” Ally says as she raises her eyebrows at Ray. “Why do you call him Mr. Brick?” Ally emits a sudden burst of laughter “Ask me that question again after you meet him.” Ray squints his eyes at Ally’s back as she climbs out of the truck.
Broderick Thomas bends down and kisses his lovely wife Jackie’s lips for the last time. The only moisture to be found on them coming from his own tears as they fall in a steady stream from his cheeks. Alexander cradles both Benny and Larry in the crook of each arm as they
all stand at the end of the bed as Broderick pulls the sheet up to cover Jackie’s face. As the gentle giant of a man stands up on trembling and shaky knees as he looks down at his love and inspiration lying motionless in the bed that they had shared together for thirteen years. “Everyone form a circle around the bed and join hands please” Broderick asks with a trembling voice that threatened to break at any moment. As everyone moves into position around Jackie completing Broderick’s wish they all join hands and bow their heads instinctively without being asked. As Broderick begins his eyes never leave the picture of Jackie that they had laid on top of her now lifeless form. “I have never known a stronger or more passionate person in all of my life than Jackie. Her ability to see what lies inside of a person instead of what lies on the outside was an inspiration to everyone that knew her. It gave her the foresight to see the man I had inside of me, the man I didn’t know I could be. The kind of man I never could have been without her.” Broderick’s open sobs force him to pause and it is only through the strength of holding the hands of his sons that he is able to remain standing and find the voice to continue his dedication to his deceased wife. “My whole young life I always felt as if I was waiting for something but I was always unsure of what it was. At first I thought it was football. Then I thought it was college. But it wasn’t until I met Jackie that I realized what it was that I had always been waiting for. She was the embodiment of everything that was good in my life and my life will be forever hollow without her.” Broderick sighs then drawing in a deep breath he continues, “Your love for me gave me courage. My love for you gave me strength. I love you today, I loved you yesterday, and I will love you tomorrow. Thank you Jackie for filling my life with love and beauty.” Broderick bends over and kisses the circle with his name inside of it that Jackie had written in the bottom right corner of every picture she had given him since their wedding day. With the eulogy finished Broderick suddenly bolts upright from the last kiss he will ever share with his wife. Looking directly at Xander, both men holding looks of confusion at the sounds they both hear and recognize coming from the driveway outside. The unmistakable sounds of someone turning off an engine and the slamming of a car door.
Beneath the Ashen Veil of Darkness Page 12
