by M. D. Massey
At the top of the staircase, I catch sight of a woman crouching with her back pressed up against the stately doorway of the mansion. A young boy clings to her. Even through the small distance between us, I can see the terrified look in both of their faces. They stay frozen in place, their faces caught in grimaces of terror. The woman has her arms wrapped around his shoulder, holding his head against her chest. His glassy eyes gaze wildly towards the front door of my small shelter. She glances towards me, her trembling eyes cutting towards my movement in the window. The boy keeps his gaze fixed on the thing in front of my shelter. For as far as I see, the grassy landscape around rolls into the distance without a sign of another one of them.
This one is alone. For now.
I have no way to get a viable shot on it. I cannot see it from the window. With some resignation, I know what I have to do. There is no other way. I place the crossbow on the bed and reach down to the knives inside my boots. With a blade in each hand, I move to the center of the room, pausing to listen. It shuffles back and forth, scraping its rotted, tattered shoes along the concrete floor. At least, it is staying away from the boy and the woman.
Okay.
I take a deep breath.
First, I slowly pull back the cot, scooting it out of the way with a loud scrape against the concrete. My fingers fumble with the small latch at the door. The ancient property has not been lived in for ages. I can only hope the door swings open in one motion. With one last breath, I tighten my grip around the handle of my knife and pull the door open.
Jumping back, I give myself enough space while the creature advances on me. In this small room, the sickly sweet stench of rotting flesh is nearly overpowering. It comes at me slowly and steadily; I circle around trying to keep the space between us. I have seen them often enough, the dead eyes, the rotting skin. This one has a flap of pink flesh hanging from its face and exposing the bone white jaws, teeth jutting from black ichor. The creature emits a small growl, nothing more than a gurgle deep in the back of its throat.
I leap forward and swipe at the creature’s face, looking to gain purchase with my blade. I miss and it lunges towards me, teeth clamping dangerously close to my forearm. In my periphery I see the woman, staring at me with increased horror, clutching more fiercely to the boy. Her mouth forms a small circle, drawn tight against her teeth.
She nears panic.
If they make a sound and draw his attention, there is no guarantee that I can take him down before he gets to them. I need to dispatch this thing quickly. Hopefully, the small space can work in my favor. I lunge again swinging my knife with careful aim.
Right through the eyeball.
The knife lands without much fanfare, just a small squishy sound. When I pull the knife out the creature collapses at my feet, no longer a danger to me or anyone else in this world. I grab the crossbow, slinging it over my shoulder on my way out the door.
I see the woman's face collapse in relief. The threat is gone.
For now.
I leave the creature, stepping over it carefully. Once outside, I wipe the knife blade against the ground to remove the viscera before placing it back in the sheath.
“You two okay?” I call over to them.
She does not answer right away but gives a short quick nod.
“It's alright,” I say as I walk over towards them, careful to keep my shoulders relaxed. Just because I removed the danger does not mean they see me as an ally. I learned a long time ago that approaching new people always poses a risk. The irony remains, even though every stranger could be a threat, it is safer to run with a group than alone. I pause at the bottom of the stairs, hands up in front of me with my palms out.
The woman stands and pulls the boy to his feet. He looks like he might be about seven years old. They are both frightfully thin. I smile when I catch his eye, raising my hand in a small wave.
“Where are the two of you headed?” I ask.
She does not answer right away. They both stand there watching me with obvious suspicion. I need to get her talking.
“I'm going into town myself,” I continue. “Heading in on a supply run.”
I reach behind me to my backpack and pull out the last scrap of jerky, literally the last piece. As if approaching a wild animal, I hold the food out to the little boy as I step up onto the first step. He eyes the food with rapt focus but glances up at her. She gives a slight nod, barely visible before he quickly snatches it from my outstretched hand.
“What's your name?” I ask, keeping my eyes on him.
He does not speak. She does. “My name is Rachel,” she says. “This is Marcus.”
“Ash,” I reply. “We need to take shelter quickly. Where there is one like that it usually means more are coming. We need to get under cover and move on after they pass us by.”
I did not want to say so, but as soon as the loner went down I sensed the shift in the air. A horde approaches. A big one, within a few miles at most. Rachel nods, clutching the boy close to her.
“We've seen them before,” she says. “We're traveling East towards the ocean. There were five of us, but the car got overrun a few miles back. Marcus and I are the only ones who got out.”
“I'm sorry,” I say quietly.
She nods, but her stiff expression shuts down any more discussion of it.
“The ocean,” I continue. “What's there?”
“Don't know. Some say it's safe there. Clean of any infection.”
I turn and scan my eyes over the horizon. The highway cuts through the rolling hillsides. They will be here soon. We need to move quickly.
She turns to me, looking me over in a quick examination. I keep my eyes away, glancing to the ground in hopes that she cannot read my expression.
“How old are you, Ash?” she asks. “If you don't mind me asking. You can't be much older than...”
“Fifteen,” I say hitching the straps of my crossbow around my torso. “According to last count, I'm fifteen.”
I turn away from her shocked expression, facing towards the hilly valley just past the freeway. The shift in the air is so subtle that I cannot even pinpoint the movement in the trees or the distant sound that I know only I can hear. I gesture for the two of them to remain silent. Beyond the sound of the birds and the rustling of leaves, I hear them.
“We don't have much time,” I say.
“What's happening?” Rachel asks as the boy continues to pull bites off his morsel of jerky.
I turn back and press against the door to the large mansion. Not much longer and this building will be surrounded by shuffling, broken-soled shoes, scuffling forward, mindless to whatever is in front of them, capable of no reason at all.
“We can't get in there,” she says.
“Why not?” I ask.
“It's a historical building. The door is locked.” She points to the large metal green sign which apparently explains the significance of the property. I had not taken the time to read it.
I pull my sleeve down over my hand, forming a fist which I use to punch through the window pane nearest the knob and unhook the lock. She winces at my actions, but seconds later the door swings open with ease.
“But...” she stammers.
“Everything is a historical building at this point,” I say as I push open the door. “There's a horde over the horizon. I understand the sentiment. Really I do, we don't have time to find another place right now. They'll be here within the hour.”
Her eyes dart wildly from me to the close horizon past the road. I see in her gaze that she expects any second for the creatures to appear, swarming over the hillside like a colony of ants. She nods and ushers the boy towards the open doorway.
Once inside, I find the largest piece of furniture, the ornate footed sofa, and scoot it in front of the door. I steal a glance towards the boy. The way he clings to her and watches me with those wide trembling eyes leaves me feeling unnerved. I move silently around the room double-checking the security of the windows. I wonder what t
hey had been through. Obviously something, based on the pallid circles under his eyes.
“This room is secure,” I say as I turn towards them. “Unfortunately, we are just going to have to wait them out as they pass by. The two of you should stay in the middle. I'll stay on watch just in case.”
“Just in case of what?” the woman asks.
I glance down at the boy, nothing more than a flick of the eye. She nods, her expression drawn.
“Should we stay quiet?” she asks.
“It wouldn't hurt. I still haven't figured out what attracts them. I know they are not very smart. We can't be too careful, but I don't see them getting past the stairs.”
The crash of breaking tree branches echoes from the hillside outside, propelling us all into motion. I cross the room and check the windows. The two of them lower slowly to the floor, landing in a cross-legged pile, arms grasping at each other. The fear in their eyes, downright palpable. I reach down to my belt and pull out the sheathed knife. I place my other hand around the crossbow and pull it around to my shoulder, wincing at the loud click when I remove the safety.
I see the first one appear over the horizon.
The horde moves at a snail's pace, lurching forward one step at a time. The front lines of them scatter here and there in chaotic wandering, but for the most part, they look like a sea, one entity mindlessly absorbing anything that crosses its path. The first of the pack reach the freeway two miles out and make their way across, one step at a time. One of them stumbles, and just like that, it becomes absorbed, trampled over by the others, no longer visible.
We could be here for a while.
The edges of the horde stretched to the horizon on either side, partially because of the narrow window impeding my vision. It is not very deep, maybe half a mile at most. I hold my breath as they near, keeping my eyes on the bottom of the stairs leading up to the front door where I stand, my crossbow at the ready, with nothing but the thin membrane of wood between me and them.
I have seen them take stairs before, but it involved several of them falling and forming a gruesome ramp. The others then gained traction eventually and made their way up that way. It could also mean they contained the capacity of brain function for problem-solving on some level. Either that or it was a fluke. Hopefully, it is the latter.
By this time the sound has reached all of our ears, the slow moan and shuffle, the grating pull of flesh against earth. The worst part is the mindlessness of their movements. I turn my eyes to the first step down below me as they shuffle forward.
The first wave makes it to the stairs.
Toes bump against the rise of the step. One falls forward and my breath catches in my throat. It makes no move to correct itself. The rest of them shuffle around it, moving towards the edge of the large house like water in a rocky stream bed. I exhale.
We all wait, none of us moving a muscle.
The view through the window is nothing more than sky and the endless sea of bobbing rotting heads; vacant eyes. The unnatural silence is broken only by the sound of their bodies, the machinations of animated flesh moving even in the midst of decay. Bone scraping against bone for miles all around us.
Marcus takes a breath, nothing more than a hitch. Rachel clutches his shoulders. I turn and catch his eye, silent.
Don't move. Don't make a sound. I will the thoughts towards him, hoping that my expression is enough for him to read. He nods, just once. I turn back to the window.
After several minutes the horde begins to dissipate, winding to just a few stragglers. Finally, the last one disappears out of range.
“I think they are gone,” I whisper. They both let out audible breaths. It would be another hour before it would be safe to leave the mansion. I turn away from the window and sit down with them.
2
“Were the two of you headed into town also?” I ask as I turn back towards the window. The sky had become a dull slate blue, but clear as far as I could see, excellent weather for a supply run.
“Yes,” she begins. “I'm afraid we lost our food with the car also. We had been on the open road for a couple of hours before you found us. I didn't think we would have survived for very much longer if you had not shown up when you did.”
“I didn't do much of anything,” I say as I stand, brushing the dust off my jeans. “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
“Would you come with us?” Rachel asks. “Safety in numbers, and all that?”
I glance at the two of them, taking stock. Survival depends on having a group, even a small one can make all the difference. I see no visible weapons between them, nothing showing any particular speed or skills in a fight situation. I already know they would slow me down to some degree. If we did join up, it would be to their benefit. I would have to be careful.
Marcus' eyes dart around the room, his shoulders momentarily relaxed now that the excitement had passed. Rachel is right. They would not have survived much longer.
“Okay, sure,” I say. “I think we can watch out for each other.”
They both nod.
“First thing's first. We need to find a vehicle. Yours is out of commission?”
“We lost it a few miles back to the West.”
“Do you have any belongings there? Anything you need to go back for?”
“No.” A flicker of emotion passes over her face, but just as suddenly it is gone.
“Just as well,” I say. “I want us to keep moving. I was in the process of circling the outskirts of town, but after that horde, I think we should follow the path they took.”
“Do you think that's safe?” she asks. “What if one of them circles back?”
“They don't travel that way. When there are that many together, they keep moving forward. They go over or around anything that blocks their way. But never back. If they do veer away, it's off to the side. I've learned it is safer to follow a horde as long as we keep our distance. They actually did us a favor.”
“I don't know, I still think the road would be a better option,” Rachel says.
“This way is clear. We can't know the same about the road.”
“I see.” She swallows hard, making a thick clicking sound in the back of her throat before she nods.
“Marcus,” I say, as I crouch down to his eye level. “I'm going to need some help from you.”
“Me?” he replies, scrunching his nose up at me. This is the first time I have heard him speak.
“Yes, you. Can you tell me, what is your favorite color?”
“Um...” He scrunches up his nose as if considering the importance of the question. “Blue?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” I add a small grin in an attempt to ease his discomfort.
“Um... I'm telling you.” He stands a bit straighter, firming up his shoulders. “I like blue.”
“Okay great, Marcus. You know what we are going to do once we get into town?”
“What?”
“We have to find a car. There's going to be a whole lot of cars and other vehicles there. All different colors. What about we keep an eye out for the shiniest blue car we can find. Sound like a plan?”
He nods vigorously with a grin on his face.
“Okay,” I whisper. “It's go time.”
We step out the front door. I keep the crossbow at my side in case we run into any trouble. After scanning the horizon and taking account of the small breeze, I motion for them to follow. I stay in front, tracking the path after we leave the mansion. Marcus walks behind me with Rachel bringing up the rear. I reach into my back pocket and give her my other switchblade, but this is mostly a gesture on my part. I do not have much faith in her abilities as a fighter, even if she does put in a good effort. The sun is bright. Now and then a bird chirps, alerting me that we are traveling in the right direction. The time to worry is when the birds go silent.
“Have you eaten?” I ask.
“Not since the car broke down. About an hour before maybe. We had
found our way into an abandoned grocery store.”
“That's good. We'll keep an eye out for something quick for you guys.”
The next place we come to is an old diner, surrounded by trees and vines already making their way toward pulling the walls down, snaking through the windows like bony fingers. Eventually, the whole world will look like this. That is what I have learned by growing up in a dead world.
Nothing lasts.
Everything falls.
Everything.
The boy, Marcus, must have been born around the same time that everything went to hell. A child of the Fall. They are rare, as there are not many of us left, but there is something remarkable about the children who have only known this world, some kind of steeliness, absent in those who remember.
“Where did you come from, Rachel?” I ask. “Before, I mean. Before...you know.”
“Cincinnati,” she answers. “I was in insurance sales.”
“Insurance sales?”
“It's not even worth explaining,” she says with a small laugh.
A shuffling of branches catches my attention off to the left. The others freeze instantly and I reach for my bow swinging it around into position like I have done a thousand times. The trees surrounding us block out the view. We stand in the center of a small grove, grown up with briars, flattened a bit by the passing horde, but tangled and thick regardless.
Marcus backs into Rachel, and I see her fingers tighten around the handle of the knife tucked into her belt, clutching his shoulder with her other hand. Her eyes dart from me to the origin of the sound.
A mare steps into view, lining up perfectly with the cross hairs of the eyepiece. A sense of relief washes over me, but I cannot relax yet.
I take aim.
Seconds later, the leaves behind her come alive as her tiny foal trots out next to her. I exhale and lower my bow casting a glance towards the other two. We could use the food, of course, but seeing the wonder light up on Marcus's face at the sight of the baby horse let me know I made the right decision in sparing them. If either of the animals had been injured, or if the foal had been alone, things would have been different. This time, I would pass. We watch them in silence until they canter off into the surrounding thicket.
