The Dead Divide Us

by Vincent S. Tobia

  The climb was only ten feet up and Jan reached the manhole cover quickly. Robert now clung onto the rungs, now just below Jan. Jan propped his back against the wall of the vertical tunnel and used two hands to slowly lift up the large circular disk that was the manhole cover.

  “Be careful. Those things could be right on top of us.” Robert said cautiously.

  “Shit, this thing is fucking heavy man.” Jan said while struggling to lift up the cover. But Jan was able to lift the cover high enough to rest it on the street above, leaving a crescent shaped opening. He then climbed a little higher and looked out onto First Street. Jan had to squint his eyes in the grim and grey light of day; they hadn’t even fully adjusted yet from the darkness of the sewer.

  “What do you see?” Robert asked from below, peering up at Jan with fear and wonder.

  “Well…” Jan looked around sharply. He took his time, studying all that he could see.

  “There are a few infected people just standing around, by the gas station right across the street. Holy shit! Rob, there is a gas can sitting next to one of the cars!

  “Nice, we can fill that up and bring it back for the Bronco.” Robert said.

  “And the fire company looks clear. Most of the freaks must still be behind us. Rob, I think we can do this!” Jan said confidence.

  “The chains on the Fire Company’s back door? How are we going to get inside?” Robert asked.

  Since he was much closer now, Jan had noticed that the lock securing the chains looked fairly small and rusted out to boot.

  “I can smash that lock open; I’ve broken a few cheap locks like that in my day.” Jan said proudly.

  “When we get out of here, you’ll have to explain that story to me. Listen, I’ll run over to the gas station and fill up that gas can quick. You go right for the door and bust that shit open. Do you want my bat?” Robert then asked.

  “No way, this rock of mine will still do the trick. One swing and that puppy is fuckin' toast. Just make sure you get that gasoline quick and make your way over to us.” Jan said.

  Robert didn’t want to say it, but he had to:

  “Jan, I really hope your family is in there. I want to take them to safety too, but listen there is still a chance…”

  “I know. I know. Let’s just go and make sure.” Jan said, both of them now settling their minds into a much needed levelheaded consciousness.

  “Ready?” Jan asked.

  “Go for it.” Robert replied, as he then watched Jan slide the sewer cover open all the way. And for a man of Jan’s size, Robert was amazed that he bounced up out of the sewer with such swiftness and grace. Jan looked around for a second, and extended a hand down to Robert, pulling him up on to Colton’s First Street. Robert had tucked his bat into the back of his hooded sweatshirt, looking much like a holstered samurai sword. It felt good to be out of the sewer and back on top, but soon the fear of the day came rushing back to Robert as he laid his eyes on a the few infected people across the street.

  “Ok, still looks clear. Go. Go.” Robert whispered, and then he took off toward the gas pumps of the Sure-Stop, heavy falling snow pelting him in the face. And then sure enough, Robert saw the red-plastic gas can sitting on the ground next to a blue Geo-Metro. Jan took off in a straight sprint toward the doors of the Fire Company, holding his rock in his right hand. It looked like he was going to take a running shot at the lock holding the chains together.

  Robert had quietly reached the little blue car and bent down to pick up the gas can.

  “Holy shit!” Robert whispered to himself.

  The gas can was completely full. The first bit of luck he had today.

  BANG!!!!!

  A loud noise echoed from Jan’s direction. Robert whirled around and saw that Jan was now taking his second swing at the lock and chains. Robert also noticed that the few infected people across the street had heard the noise too. Jan swung down hard again and this time the rusty lock smashed into three pieces. Jan flung the chains off the double doors and turned back to Robert.

  “Come on Robert! Let’s get inside here quick.” Jan said.

  Robert tightened his grip on the gas can, excited now to get off the street for a little while. He took one step toward the Fire Company and noticed the doors behind Jan had opened up slightly, by themselves.

  Five or six loud shots rang out from behind the opening of the doors and Robert watched as half of Jan’s face split open and spilled out onto his chest. A few more bullets ripped right through Jan’s chest, his blood was now covering the ground below him. Jan was dead even before he knew what had happened.

  Lifeless, Jan’s body dropped to its knees and then fell forward face-first into the snow.

  “What kind of world do we now live in?”

  Robert quickly dropped down and hid himself behind the blue Geo-Metro. He felt nothing, he had nothing to say, he was momentary lost.

  “What kind of world do we now live in?”

  Robert saw himself from above, the dangers now surrounding him meant nothing. He just sat there in the falling snow. Jan, lifelong friend of the family was now dead too.

  “What kind of world do we now live in?”

  Robert regained his breathing pattern and steadied himself. He poked his head out from behind the car and looked at the Fire Company.

  A man, which had to be an Army or National Guardsman because he was wearing the appropriate camouflage, slowly marched out from behind the doors holding one of the same automatic rifles that Major Frost’s men carried.

  “Hey asshole, you kill him?” a voice yelled out from inside the Fire Company.

  “I got him Drake, a real nasty one. Big too. Jeezus, looks like this one learned to use a rock. He busted out the fuckin' locks!” the young private said. Robert’s anger began flow and expand.

  “Well re-lock the fuckin' doors from the inside; get your ass back in here! I mean to stay alive in here for at least a few more days.” the deep voice from inside yelled again.

  “Yeah.” the Private exclaimed. He quickly backed into the Fire Company and closed the doors. From inside, Robert heard more chains being wrapped around the inside door handles.

  And just like that, the Fire Company was exactly like it was before, locked up and quiet. Only now a fresh corpse, Jan Goodman, lay at the doorstep.

  A familiar sound now came to Robert. The moaning was back; he looked up First Street and confirmed his fear. A hoard of the infected was pushing and shambling its way toward the Fire Company. The gunshots must have brought them on.

  Robert, still holding onto the gas can, stumbled up to his feet and raced toward the open manhole. Once there, he threw down the gas can into the sewer. It made a large splash in the water below. Robert put his feet on the metal rungs and began to lower himself down. Once down far enough, he reached for the cover above his head and tired to slide it over. Jan was right, the fucker was heavy and Robert was only able to slide it over two inches before a sickly diseased face came rearing down at him. The infected face was so close, that its matted hair swept across Robert’s face. It tried to bite his nose clean off, but Robert’s instincts kicked in and he released himself from the metal rungs.

  Robert fell straight down ten feet onto the sewer floor. His landed on his ankle and he felt it snap even before he heard the sound. It had to be a clean break. To make matters worse Robert looked up to the open hole above and saw three infected people, all of them were trying to lean down and reach into the sewer.

  Then, they too fell in. Freefalling right down on top of Robert.

  4

  The only thing Robert could think of to do was to roll over fast. His back laid flat on the sewer floor, his ankle popping hot with fresh pain. As Robert rolled to his left, he rolled over the hard plastic gas can that he had dropped down there. More pain struck his ribs as the unforgiving edges of the gas can poked at him as he rolled.

  Splash!!!

  That’s right. The three sick-heads from above had made their crash landi
ng; Robert was still close enough to feel the spray of shit-water when they landed. He thought to himself, “I must have turned away just in time.”

  Robert was positive now he had rolled in the right direction. He needed to head south; down the exact way he came in with Jan.

  Jan, poor Jan. Gunned down, he didn’t even have a chance.

  The moaning sounds of the infected forced Robert to stagger up to his feet. The three of them were no more than two feet behind him. So Robert grabbed hold of the gas can as he fought against himself to stand up. He almost fell right back down again due to his broken right ankle. The pain made him see stars in the dark tunnel. He could barely apply any pressure to the ankle.

  Robert leaned forward and began to limp down the tunnel, heading south. The combination of having to crouch down, carry a full gas can, and basically skip forward on one working leg had Robert feeling like it was time to give up. He wanted to just stop. He wanted to just lie down and let the infected catch up to him and tear him to bits. Robert could hear them from behind shambling after him. Kicking water and waste around, their moans seem to amplify as they echoed down the sewer walls.

  So this was it? All that false hope? Only to be chased down a shit filled sewer, in the dark, with a broken ankle? Robert decided it was absolutely time to give up. He stopped limping forward and fell to his knees. His only hope now was that the three diseased people would kill him fast. They were close to him now. Robert began to feel light-headed again.

  Robert. Robert!

  “What?”

  Get up! Now! Come on, you’ve got to get up.

  “I don’t want to. It’s over.”

  No, it isn’t over. You are still breathing aren’t you? You are banged up pretty bad, but you can still move. So get up and move!

  “Why? We’re just going to die anyway.”

  Stop being so selfish and start fighting to stay alive. God gives us new life everyday because it is too easy to give up, to lose the will to live. Being beaten and disappointed and losing, these are all parts of life. Some of us are so fortunate to have life, so start believing in yours!

  Robert then suddenly knew who he was talking to.

  “Felicia?”

  Robert didn’t get a response. Still he painfully rose to his feet. One of the infected men was about grab Robert by the neck. Even in the smelly sewer, Robert could distinguish the scent.

  Move, now!

  Robert took off limping down the tunnel, narrowly escaping the grip of a diseased hand by mere inches.

  He wasn’t sure what had just happened back there, his exhausted body and mind were most likely playing tricks on him. Maybe his subconscious was alive and acting out the role of his long-dead sister Felicia.

  Robert didn’t mind the pain anymore, he felt it for sure, but he just kept moving forward down the dark tunnel.

  5

  Robert burst out of the South end of the sewer pipe and landed onto a mound of fresh snow. His bat was still somehow secured, holstered in the back of his sweatshirt. Daylight enveloped him, but after his eyes fully adjusted he realized that the day was losing its brightness. Evening was about to fall.

  “Jesus, how long have I been at this?” Robert asked himself, thinking that it didn’t feel like that long ago when Paul woke him up with the call. Where did the day go? Where did the day go, indeed?

  A few low moans echoed out from inside the dark sewer tunnel and Robert knew that he was still being chased. Once again he rose to his feet; still gripping the full gas can tight. He turned and grimly looked up at the large mountain ridge he had to climb up. He was at the base of a forty foot climb, with a broken ankle.

  Robert started to carefully climb up the large rocky hill. The deep snow somehow made it both easier and harder to climb, making for better footing as he brought his feet down but making it heavy and harder to lift his feet up.

  Slowly making progress, Robert looked up at the peak of the ridge above him. Just beyond the top, Robert hoped his mother was still there with the Bronco. He wouldn’t be able to tell until he was closer to the top. But if his mother had taken off to the rendezvous point, the ball field out past Buck’s Dairy, Robert knew he would be screwed for sure.

  He continued to climb, slowly up through the heavy snow.

  Half way up the hill, Robert heard the bodies of three of the infected people shoot out of the sewer pipe below.

  They were still intent on eating his flesh.

  Chapter 10: Goodbye Home Sweet Home

  Paul Landry slowly moved the curtain of his bedroom window and stealthily peeked outside. Out on the street, under the cool misty rain, a few of his neighbors were still frantically bouncing around in drones of the mass hysterical. But Warren Blakely had done a surprisingly good job of quickly organizing a few good men (and women) to secure their end of the street which helped their immediate neighbors feel safer. It was a greatly needed accomplishment because some thirty odd minutes prior, the power was cut off in Green Falls. It was midday now and the thought of oncoming darkness coupled with the inevitable army of infectious and diseased had made the townspeople of Green Falls long for answers. They were looking to Paul’s neighbor, Roy Benton for those answers; however, he and Paul had their own covert escape planned...

  “Should you be lingering by the window like that?” Ruth asked.

  Paul turned around letting go of the purple curtain and went to his wife. She was shoveling clothing into one of their largest suitcases. She stopped for a second and gave Paul an obviously fearful and worried face.

  “Hold on honey.” Paul said as he walked around to the other side of their bed.

  “Two outfits per person. Even the children.”

  Frustrated, Ruth threw down the small pile of clothing she was holding onto.

  “What the hell are we going to wear up there?” Ruth asked.

  “We can’t be weighed down or worried about clean clothing. Only a few changes are necessary.” Paul added softly.

  Ruth turned her back on Paul and faced their huge walk-in closet. She looked inside and then she hung her head down low.

  “We are going to be leaving so much behind.” She said, solemnly.

  “Ruth, this is about survival now. We don’t need our entire wardrobe up at the cabin.”

  Ruth snapped her head back up from the sulking position.

  “I’m not talking about our clothing, Paul. I’m talking about everything. Everything we’ve ever worked for. This house. Our jobs. Our neighbors. Our lives. All of it. We are leaving it all behind.” Ruth said, but she did not begin to cry. She only stood by, set on idle, her body stuck in neutral and her mind competing in a surrealistic race.

  Process, Process, Process. Compute, Compute, Compute.

  Think, Think, Think. Decide, Decide, Decide.

  As tired as Ruth already was, her skull-splitting headache had only presented the feeling of nausea. Sleep was a faraway fairytale. To give into sleep surely meant death in this chaotic new world.

  Paul walked over to Ruth, grabbing her hand and turning her around to face him.

  “We are doing the right thing.” He said slowly. “This disease is destroying every city it hits. You heard the report from Portland; it is a damn war zone. We need to get our family away from people. This neighborhood is NOT the answer.” Paul said, confidently and almost a little arrogantly.

  Paul began to say something else, but he stopped; only exhaling a long breath.

  “What is it Paul?” Ruth asked.

  Paul and Ruth sat down on their bed, the weight being relieved from their bodies as their bottoms hit the soft mattress.

  “My cell phone hasn’t rang since Robert’s last call. And I can’t reach him. I’m not going to be selfish and I’m not stupid; I know he’s dead.” Paul said grimly.

  “You can’t know that for sure, same with my family. I can’t reach them either.” Ruth said in protest. Paul gave her a dark half-smile.

  “We are on opposite ends of the country, even if Ro
bert and my parents are holding up somewhere. We could never know. We will never know.”

  Paul gasped inward another huge, deep breathe. It finally hit him; a huge wall of guilt came crashing down onto him. Many years ago, he didn’t have to decide to move to the great North-West. He didn’t have to take the incredible job offer at Nintendo of America. He didn’t have to produce two healthy boys with the woman he fell in love with during college. He didn’t have to move so very far away from his parents and from his brother; and now he felt that he had abandoned them. He wasn’t there for them this morning during the chaos, he just simply wasn’t there. He wasn’t there to die rightfully by their side, defending his parent’s farmhouse.

  Now Ruth Landry had nothing to say to her husband. His lack of hope was doing more than just dragging her down; he was making it harder for her to muster up her own brand of hope.

  Some different kind of darkness, a looming storm of grey depression.

  “I believe heading up to the mountain cabin with Roy’s family is going to help us survive. But I won’t hold onto the fact that my family on the east coast is still alive.” Paul added, pushing his own guilt to the side.

  “I get your point, please just stop saying it. Ok?” Ruth said, holding her head now and rubbing her aching temples.

  Paul felt like a giant ass. He was being selfish just now, lost in his own grievances for his brother and parents. He could see the distraught and painful emotions that Ruth was experiencing and he had only made them worse.

  Paul wrapped his arm around his wife, bringing her in closer. Through the fleece she was wearing he felt a great heat coming off of her chest, she was burning up under all the pressure.

  “You know who I keep thinking about?” Paul said suddenly.

  “Who?” Ruth asked, allowing a few tears to fall from her cheeks as she rested her head on his shoulder.

  “My sister, Felicia.”

  Ruth was surprised to hear that; Paul very rarely talked about his deceased sister from many years ago. She let Paul continue.