Deadfall: Survivors

by Richard Flunker

  I didn’t sleep that night. I kept hearing my parents screaming. I kept seeing my parents being torn apart. To this day, I see and hear that every night. I don’t know how it will ever go away. I'm in tears now just thinking of it. I did nothing. I couldn’t do anything. I’ll never be able to do anything. I’m a nobody. I almost failed in even keeping my own brother alive.

  That night, Megan and Chris slept, although it was fitful. I didn’t sleep. At all. I was so exhausted, yet my mind kept racing, replaying those scenes over and over in my head. It was while I was awake that I heard the group of soldiers rushing to the main gate. I have no idea what time of the morning it was. It was still raining, and the sun was nowhere in sight. A bus had returned from the gate, or somewhere, I wasn’t sure really. This time, they weren’t offloading people, but soldiers, wounded soldiers. I sat up in the tent and watched, as I had a clear view towards where the bus was.

  The soldiers were carried off and taken to a large tent, a hospital of sorts I guess. There was a lot of commotion around the bus. Some soldiers were yelling at others, giving orders, by the way they were pointing around. I couldn’t understand anything clearly over the sound of the rain. Within a few minutes, three army type trucks came rolling in, and out came a whole bunch of soldiers, all armed and carrying their guns. One of them came running over to the guy that seemed to be in charge. They talked briefly, and then the guy in charge turned and looked towards the camp. He turned back and made a sweeping motion with his hand, pointing at the camp. He pointed at several of the soldiers, and then went back to talking with the soldier who was in front of him. That soldier then yelled back at the soldiers, who looked at him, then began climbing back into the truck. Within a few minutes, those soldiers, along with a whole bunch of the soldiers that had been at this camp, had been loaded up in the trucks, and the trucks had driven off.

  I felt really odd about the whole situation. Only five soldiers had been left there, and they were all by a road barricade that had been pushed into place after the trucks had left. They had ducked down behind the barricades, and had their guns pointed out into the wet blackness of the road. They were waiting for something.

  Before the first gunshot, I was already dragging Chris and Megan out of their beds, grabbing whatever food I saw left behind. I had no idea where I was going to go, but I had a horrible feeling that this camp was about to be the least safe place around. A sleepy Chris and Megan were following me out into the cold rain, when the first shots started cracking into the darkness.

  At first it was one or two short shots, but then it opened up into multiple shots being fired. The whole camp burst into life, and people were slowly and sleepily walking out of, or just peering out of their tents. I took a few quick glances back, and could already see a large crowd of people moving towards the camp from out of the darkness. The gunshots kept going for a while. The three of us kept moving in the opposite direction, headed towards the end of the camp. Then, the gunshots stopped, and from the whole camp, even above the sound of the rain on the tents, came a loud cry. It seemed as if all at once, everyone that now saw the horde coming at them realized what was coming, and they all cried out at once.

  We reached the end of the camp, but it was only more woods. There were two dirt roads that led out in that direction, so we just picked the one on the right and kept moving, walking as fast as we could. We were joined by a few people, but most seemed to have stayed behind. They were in shock, or didn’t know where to go, I'm not sure. I just walked. I closed my eyes as I walked, and I could see my mother and father being torn apart, but this time, what I heard were the shouts and screams of those back in the camp. I cried the whole way.

  We walked till the sun began to come up, a small group of us, maybe seven or eight. I can’t remember. Megan, Chris and I ate whatever food we had managed to get that night before, saving a little for later. We drank from whatever dripped off into our mouths.

  As the darkness began to fade, it continued to rain, and we reached a paved road. Within a few minutes, all sorts of green camo trucks and jeeps, or whatever kind of cars the army has, went flying by every few minutes. We tried stopping them, but we were ignored, and we had to be careful because they were oblivious to us as they flew down the road. At least we were going in the opposite way. I wouldn’t want to go in the direction they were going to fight whatever it was that was out there. Unless, we were heading into it and they had already lost. So we kept walking.

  I don’t know when it was, but maybe it was in the afternoon. It had stopped raining, and slowed to a drizzle. I know we had eaten the last of our food, and were still walking when a small truck pulled up next to us. I hadn’t even heard it driving down. Inside were three soldiers. When I noticed that they had stopped, I ran up to them, hoping we had finally found some help. When the driver rolled down his window, he asked if we needed a ride. I said yes, please, we were lost. Then, he looked at me, and asked me, “What do you have to offer?”

  The question caught me off guard, as if I hadn’t heard what he had said. Before I could say that I didn’t know what I could offer, one of the other soldiers got out of the truck and pointed a gun at me. I was completely confused; I couldn’t understand what they were doing. I started talking about how we hadn’t done anything wrong, and then when I thought that maybe they were confusing us with those diseased people, the zombies, I tried telling them that we weren’t ones, but before I could say anything, he hit me with his gun.

  All I can remember is the sharp pain drowning out my vision, and I'm sure I just crumpled to the ground. When I looked up one last time, all I could see was a man, sneering over me, and then a motion with his gun. Then it was all black.

  I came to somewhere dark, with some light coming in through a window somewhere. My eye felt swollen, my face sore beyond anything I could think of. I tried swallowing, but found that I couldn’t; it was either too dry or too swollen, I don’t know. It took me some time for my mind to even register what was going on. When I remembered what had happened, I tried shouting out for Chris and tried to sit up.

  They had tied me to a pipe in whatever this building was. One of the soldiers was sitting by a door, just looking at me. When I looked around, I saw Chris and Megan, tied up and gagged as well. Chris looked at me, fear in his eyes. That’s when I realized I was gagged as well. That would have gave me a reason for why my tongue wouldn’t work right.

  The soldier at the door shouted something, tilting his head towards the door. Within what seemed like an eternity, the other two came in. One was laughing, and the other had a crazed, yet terrified look on his face. His eyes were red, bloodshot and he kept swallowing. The other one, the one that had hit me, had a calm look, as if nothing was going on.

  They began talking about what to do, and they talked about just killing us. My heart raced. I had survived my parents slaughter, and here I was going to be killed by our own soldiers and I had no idea why. If my eyes could have worked, I know I would have been in tears. But what came next only made death easier. The crazed look soldier began to take his pants off, and started laughing. He said that “if I was going to die, I might as well better die fucking.” At that point, I looked at Megan, and we both knew what was about to happen.

  I recoiled instantly, bringing my legs up to my chest as best as I could, but I had a fear deep inside that I wouldn’t be able to fight them off. Megan was crying a muffled “no” through her gag, and Chris was just starting to understand. They were going to make him watch, or they simply didn’t care. Something had snapped inside of these men. The soldier by the door stood up and said not to do it, but the calm one told him to fuck off. “You can have the boy if you’re such a faggot.” I looked at the soldier by the door, trying to get his eyes to connect with mine, but he refused to look at us.

  At that moment, I wondered if death would be easier.

  At first, I tried not watching, as the crazed look soldier slapped Megan a few times, then tried dragging her legs out, ripping at her cl
othes as she screamed and tried to kick back. When she landed a good kick, he punched her hard, knocking her groggy. Her eyes rolled back white, and she was at his will. He went at her, yelling and screaming as if he was a mad dog. I crunched myself up as far as possible, knowing I would be next. I was so ashamed, because I kept thinking that maybe he’d not want more after Megan, that he wouldn’t want me.

  After he finished, he stood up, pantless, laughing hysterically. Megan started coming to, crying. She was bleeding, a stream a blood dripping off her chin. I was crying myself. He was looking at her, asking her if she liked it. “Did you like your last fuck?” He kept shouting that over and over, and Megan just kept crying. Then, before I could even blink, he pulled out a gun, put it straight to her head, and shot.

  The calm soldier remained that; calm, while the other soldier quickly stood up and started shouting. The crazed soldier just turned, almost tripping over his pants and kept laughing. “It’s ok, I hit her in the head, she won’t turn.” They began to argue, but I could barely see out of my swollen up eyes. All I could see in my mind was that they would rape me next, and then kill me as well. I tried looking at Chris, but couldn’t see him; the crazed soldier was in the way.

  I don’t know how long they argued. The calm soldier sat down where the other one had been sitting by the door, and began smoking a cigarette, while the other two kept arguing. Sometime after that though, all three jumped up, facing the door, guns pointed. Something crashed through the lone window, and I swear I could see arms reaching through.

  At that point, things got confusing. The crazed soldier shouted something, put the gun to his own head, and shot himself, falling over on top of Megan’s body. The calm soldier began walking over to me, and raised his gun at me when a few more gun shots rang out and he came crashing down on top of me. The other soldier rolled him off and began cutting off my zip ties. I sat there, in stunned silence and he did the same with Chris. He gave me a set of keys and drug me up to my feet. He told me he would open the door, and run out shooting to try to get us to their truck. He would keep shooting and I was to drive.

  It was all happening so quickly. He opened the door, and three zombies were right there. The soldier quickly shot them down, shooting their heads. As we stepped out into the open, the bright light dazed me completely and I just began running. I could hear gunshots behind me and when my eyes cleared up, I had almost run into the truck. I jumped in blindly, fumbling at the keys, putting them in the ignition, and starting the truck. I looked beside me, and found Chris already in the passenger seat, but when I looked around for the soldier, he wasn’t in the truck. I looked behind me and to the right and I saw him, outside, shooting at what appeared to be a huge mob of those things.

  This time, I didn’t think twice. I slammed on the gas and peeled out of there. This time, I wasn’t ashamed. For all I know, he was just trying to save me for himself later.

  I don’t know how to describe the next couple of months. We drove and drove, until we ran out of gas. We hid in houses that were empty, eating whatever food was there. We went without food many times, days at a time. We barely slept. I had a gun that I had from the army truck that I took, but I was so afraid to shoot it and make more of them show up.

  We stole cars and would drive, but if we saw zombies ahead, we always ditched the car and walked. We kept going north. We went through Atlanta, moving through the town a few blocks at a time. I have no idea how long it took, but eventually, we made it out of that dead city. I don’t know how many people we saw die, or how many dead people we saw alive. I just know that once we were out of that city, we vowed to just stay in the countryside.

  So we kept traveling, mostly north. And then, we were in Charlotte. We were staying in a house near the interstate. We didn’t want to go deep into the city, so we stayed on the outskirts and we would go to different houses to find food and bring them back. During one of those times, one of them must have seen us, because it followed us back and almost got inside, but Chris shot it with the gun. He didn’t kill it, but instead, we were trapped in there, because every zombie nearby came towards us.

  You found us there. It had been a few days. I just know we had no water and no food left over. I had really thought hard about just killing myself, but Chris just kept saying that it would be ok. How could I even think about killing myself if he had any sense of optimism? So we waited, not sleeping at night because of the awful sound those things make when they’re walking around.

  I'm here. We’re here. You don’t know what my face looked like for a while, but the scars are still there.

  When those soldiers asked us if we had anything to offer, I stammered, I couldn’t answer.

  I can answer now.

  Entry 29 – Choices[28]

  Tague and Chris are off this morning. They packed up really early. I was up and about, a lot on my mind. Chris seemed quite excited, ready for time on his own perhaps, away from the protective sister. Nothing wrong with either wanting to be out of the protection, as well as the protection itself. I asked Tague to check in tonight if he could, but once they had been gone, I realized I had forgotten to give him one of the radios. They should be fine. Tague is probably the most experienced person among us in dealing with, well, everything.

  I also gave him a tablet. I asked him to write down the work that he was doing over there, what he discovered, and, anything else he wanted to tell me about himself. I think I actually winked, too, when I said it. I have no idea what goes on in my head sometimes. The look he gave me said it all. I wonder if he had disdain for me, because I'm an American or simply because I say stupid things. He’s a good guy, though. I think a lot of what will happen to us, will be because of what he can do.

  So now I'm sitting here. I’ve upgraded to a tablet, a digital tablet. If I ever go out again, I will take one along with a normal paper pad, but around here, where I can keep it charged, I will use one. It’s so much easier on my fingers and hands, plus it has a few other features, such as the ability to record voice and even take pictures. I thought about taking pictures of everyone, but haven’t really gotten around to it. Not sure what purpose it serves.

  But, there is a far greater issue here that I think, subconsciously, I’m trying to avoid by writing too much about other things.

  Last night, as I was just lying in my room, I was startled by a knock on the door. It was Heather. She looked, well, terrible, as if she had just had a nightmare. She was sweaty, hair was messed up, and her eyes were red, swollen with tears. I was alarmed, thinking she had gotten hurt somehow. She asked if she could come in, and I said of course. She came in and sat down on one of the two chairs in the room. I had the lights turned down quite dim, so I didn’t notice that she had something in her hands.

  Paper.

  She had taken the paper I had given her, and written down on it, and she handed it over to me. I sat down on the other chair, set down my tablet, and started leafing through the papers. Thankfully, the voice recorder was on, so I still have the actual conversation of what happened last night. I will use it as faithfully as I can here.

  “What is this?”

  Heather “It’s what brought us here. I thought you might want to know.”

  I was stunned, actually. Then I was morbidly curious. Knowing what I know now, I hate having felt so childish. It was like the first time you see the picture of a dead body on the internet, you just want to see it because your mind has created an image for you, but you need the actual proof. But once you see it, it’s surreal, and normal, at the same time. I know I’m not the only one that has wanted to know what happened to the pair, Heather and Chris, that whatever has happened to them had to be far more brutal than anything anyone else had experienced.

  My stupid and silly curiosity was quickly tossed aside. As I read, and her story got grittier and darker, I sank deeper into my chair. The one solitary light felt like an interrogation light, beamed right at my eyes. How did my survival even come close to comparing to hers? Attacked b
y both the living and the dead? Seeing someone raped, and then sure it would happen to her? And the decision to leave the soldier that had freed her behind.

  I was stunned. It didn’t take me long to read it. Now I understood why she looked like she had when I had first opened the door. She had just relived her nightmares, probably repeatedly, as she thought about what to write. My whole thinking about everything here was wrong. I figured that since I was lucky to have survived in comfort, and without the pain of losing anyone or witnessing the horror of mutilation, that I could somehow pass that one to the others, especially by bringing them here. I was, am, clueless. I have brought broken people here, survivors yes, stoic in some, quiet in others, yet broken in their own way. And some, more than others, even if they don’t show it or if they do. And here I am thinking that food and a bed will make everything better.

  I didn’t have much before the comet; a simple job, no girlfriend, family other than my dad. The thought that my mother is dead somewhere, or wandering around as a zombie, doesn’t make me flinch at all. In fact, it might make me smile a bit. But these people have lost husbands, wives, children, fathers, parents, and friends. They have lost their innocence and their will to live. If anything, they are the real zombies.

  It’s no wonder they “look” up to me. To them, I am normal. I don’t have the look of pain and loss in my eyes. To them, I am still alive. A sad excuse, but alive none the less. I am their link to the living, and just how am I supposed to bring them to it? Heather herself, from what I’ve read, she seems the most troubled of them all. How would I even attempt to heal that?