Left Behind: The Suburban Dead

by T. A. Sorsby

  Like the apartment across the corridor, mine was dark and taking on a chill. Moving around with just the candle’s flickering light to see by made it a little unsettling, but I knew there could be nobody up here, so I put that to the back of my mind, along with thoughts of dead friends and how else that firefight could have ended.

  The back of my mind was getting pretty full.

  I have an odds and ends drawer in my kitchen, with a big plastic box of meds inside. Stuff for headaches, heartburn, cold and flu remedies, that sort of thing. There was also leftover pain medication from when I got glassed in the head. They were the good stuff, one tablet, must be taken with food, no more than three days in a row, that kind of good. I only had half a dozen left, but Laurel’s need for pain relief was greater than my need to hoard supplies. I checked the date on them first though, since they were getting on over two years old now. We were still in the clear.

  In my personal pool of candlelight, I left my apartment and returned to the Jamesons’. Neville, Anita and Morgan were on the sofa now, with Damian and Lucile sat on the kitchen stools. I handed the strip of pills to Laurel.

  ‘Just one. Should take it with food, but we only ate like an hour ago. Have a biscuit, you’ll be alright. No heavy machinery.’ I added, feeling everyone’s eyes on me.

  I retrieved my beer, in no hurry to talk, then sat down on one of the kitchen stools as well. I took a deep breath, and stalled some more. They were obviously waiting for me.

  ‘So…’ Neville encouraged, looking around at everybody, sat in their silence.

  ‘Tomorrow then…’ I began, ‘tomorrow we’re busy. Priority should be getting to Greenfield City Radio, seeing if Mr Sachs has been in contact with the CDC again. Or if he ever was,’ I said, throwing a look to Neville, ‘I don’t think any of us thought he was completely on the level.’

  ‘More going on there than met de eye.’ Damian assented, tipping back his bottle.

  ‘So it could be we’re getting out of here tomorrow, off to some refugee camp.’ I frowned, ‘Kinda not sure I like that any better than being stuck here for an indefinite period, but it at least warrants checking out.’

  ‘Think we’re all in agreement there,’ Laurel said, popping a small pill out of the foil, washing it down with some beer. ‘Got to scope it out.’

  ‘Do we have time for a detour on the way?’ Anita asked, her voice still a little sore.

  ‘Yes. We’re doing it.’ I told her.

  ‘Doing what?’ Lucile asked.

  ‘Putting Becky, Paul and Marianna Mason to rest.’ Neville supplied, his voice solemn. ‘We’re going to go back and bury them.’

  Lucile nodded, mouth set to a line. ‘We’ll keep an eye out for the dogs.’

  ‘Kelly, if you think we should go back to…’ Neville started, his voice fading at the look I gave him.

  ‘No,’ I shook my head, ‘I don’t want to go back there. But I’ll help you guys.’ I added, raising my bottle. It was empty, so I reached for a new one. ‘So we head to the cul-de-sac. Then we get out to GCR, and see what’s in store for us there. Anyone else got things to put on the list?’

  ‘Diesel,’ Damian said, ticking off fingers, ‘my ride’s getting below quarter-tank. De white pickup outside, anyone know whose it is? Find keys for it yesterday?’ he added, to Anita and Morgan. People shook their heads. ‘If we can’t drive it, we tap it for gas.’

  ‘We still need to bring some things up from the apartments, more boxes of supplies.’ Anita said, ‘But they’ll keep until the evening.’

  ‘If you two don’t want to, I’ll do it, I don’t mind.’ I told them.

  ‘Just don’t feel like it right now. We’ll see how my homecoming goes.’ Anita said, her eyes fixed straight forwards.

  ‘There’s also the supplies left in the co-op,’ I reminded them, ‘we haven’t stripped it clean. Plenty of fresh fruit and the like, probably do us good with all the meat and bread we’ve been eating.’

  ‘We should save the seeds? Like, to plant somewhere?’ Morgan suggested.

  ‘Yeah,’ I nodded, ‘we’ll need them if we can’t get out of this city.’

  ‘What do we do tonight, more importantly?’ Neville asked.

  ‘Got any board games?’ I suggested.

  ‘Haven’t I been through enough?’ Laurel sighed.

  *

  Thirty

  Twist. Pop. Fizz. I’m not massively keen on champagne, but according to Neville this was good stuff. The Jamesons’ had appropriate glassware in their cabinets for only six of us, so I poured mine into a regular wine glass when it came to filling my own. I don’t know if that’s against the rules of sparkling wine or anything, but I’d have drunk it out of a tea-stained mug if there weren’t glasses, so…

  ‘A toast then,’ I said, handing glasses around, ‘to our hosts. Edgar and Rosie Jameson, long may they rest unrisen.’

  The chorus cheered, glasses clinked, and sips were taken. As the group broke apart, Laurel sat on one of the kitchen stools. There should have been dim music playing, and a party atmosphere rising, but instead there was only the sound of low chatter, glasses on tables and a game board being set up.

  ‘Why do you think they did it?’ she asked. ‘The old couple, who lived here before.’

  ‘Not sure.’ I shrugged, ‘Talked about it with Morgan, we found the bodies. I thought it was stupid, waste of life kinda thing. But she…saw it a different way.’

  ‘How’s that?’

  ‘Said they probably didn’t want to be a burden on us. Didn’t want us to have to take care of them. The lift down the hall, their prescriptions, without them they’d be housebound, sick or in a lot of pain.’

  ‘They didn’t want anyone having to take care of them.’ Laurel nodded, doing that middle-distance stare some people do when having deep talks.

  ‘Euthanasia, I guess. Without waiting around for the paperwork or being on death’s door already.’ I added, dropping my own version of the thousand-yard and meeting her eyes. ‘Do you want to go back for her?’ I asked. She knew who I meant.

  ‘No, she didn’t want to be buried. Didn’t want to be burned either, so I’ve no clue what she wanted beyond just, not that.’ She added, vaguely waving her hand.

  ‘Sailor’s funeral?’ I frowned.

  Laurel just shrugged, sighing. ‘We never talked about it directly. She just said she didn’t like the idea of being put under the ground, or her ashes being spread. Morbid on the whole subject, and she never told me anything different, even after the fever took. So she’s…’ she paused, but grit her teeth and pushed through, ‘she’s going to lay there in that bed.’

  I looked over the other side of the room, where Neville was unpacking the bits for the property trading board game, the old version, where they still used paper money. He was smiling, chatting with Anita and the rest. Was he beat up inside, or was he just tougher than me?

  ‘We can go back, put her somewhere else, if that’d be any better.’

  Laurel took a sip of champagne. A big one. ‘Forget it. I never want to go back to that house. Got some clothes I wouldn’t mind going back for, but a wardrobe ain’t worth stepping through that door again, for me. Dani’s not going to turn, and that’s enough.’

  ‘I was kind of hoping it’d just burn down after we left…’ I sighed.

  ‘I’m not against the idea of doing a drive-by firebombing.’ She smirked, taking another drink. ‘Top me up, I’m terrible at this game, and a sore loser. Should I be drinking on these tablets?’ she asked, frowning at the glass a moment.

  ‘Don’t think so. Fuck it.’ I told her, pouring more in.

  Anita walked over with her glass in one hand, and the big green first aid kit in the other. ‘Before we begin?’

  ‘Well I did promise,’ she replied, putting her glass down, ‘let’s get you to the bedroom.’

  ‘The bubbly must have gone to my head…’ Anita said, twitching her eyebrows, taking Laurel’s hand. I couldn’t help but laugh, they say it�
�s the best medicine.

  ‘We’re doing well….’ I muttered to myself, watching them go. Drinking, joking, playing games. Maybe Ed and Rosie should have been here, just to see how well we were doing. We’d have swung by the pharmacy to pick up their meds if they’d have asked.

  The ladies left the door open to the bedroom, not sure if that was to signify they weren’t actually following through on their innuendo. I stood in the doorway, and whipped out my flashlight. No overtones there.

  ‘Need some light?’ I asked.

  ‘Mine’s bigger.’ Anita said back, passing me her much larger torch. It was heavier than I expected, you really could have used it as a club.

  Anita sat up on the bed with her legs tucked into her side, Laurel kneeling beside her. I hovered above, holding the light on Anita’s shoulder.

  ‘We should probably have had a look sooner,’ Anita said while Laurel peeled away the tape, ‘but we were busy. Besides, it doesn’t feel any worse.’

  Laurel removed the bandage, and placed it messy-side-up on the bed. My light did not reveal a kindly sight. The neat punctures were still there, red and tender, but beyond dried blood covering her back, there were streaks of yellow. We peered closer, and could see it in the wounds as well.

  ‘What?’ Anita asked. ‘What’re you staring at?’

  Laurel and I shared a look. ‘I don’t think I appreciate sugar-coating any more than she does.’ She cringed.

  ‘Looks infected.’ I told her, keeping my voice low, not to be overheard.

  ‘Shit, how bad is it?’ she cursed.

  ‘There’s yellow gunk.’ Laurel hummed, ‘And it’s all red around the punctures. What do I do?’

  ‘Clean me up, please.’ Anita said, hanging her head for a moment, ‘It’s going to hurt. The wound’s infected, not uncommon for dog bites, so I’m guessing infected dogs are no different.’

  ‘You feverish?’ I asked.

  ‘No, but if I was, there’d be no telling whether it was the zed-fever, or from my body fighting a standard infection. Not to sound too defensive, but…’ she let her voice trail, tilted her head, ‘I don’t want to die. So let me have this one.’

  ‘You’ve got it.’ I reassured her.

  ‘Light, Kell.’ Laurel reminded me.

  She set about cleaning the wound, first with simple wet-wipes and cotton buds from the bathroom to get rid of most of the blood and pus - ick - then she got a flannel and dabbed antiseptic solution on it. Anita had twitched and hissed while the wound was cleaned, but this was going to be something else, and she knew it.

  As delicately as she could, Laurel set about patting the wound down with the wet flannel. Anita scrunched the bedsheet up into a ball beneath one fist, and dug her nails into her leg with the other hand, but that was just the first pass.

  ‘You’ve got to keep going,’ she grunted, ‘if it hurts this bad, its doing me good. Probably an idea to dilute some of that in water, and give it another couple runs with another towel or something.’

  ‘You sure?’ Laurel asked. ‘Beginning to think I might have been a big whiner with my missing ear.’

  ‘Do it. Please.’ She added, ‘I don’t want to take any chances.’

  I sat with her while Laurel went to get a cup from the kitchen - a bathroom cup might have had toilet-flush bacteria at the bottom.

  ‘You’re going to be fine.’ I told her, hand on her other shoulder, ‘This is just a normal infection, like you said, this isn’t going to make you turn.’

  ‘I hope so.’ She said, putting her hand over mine, but staring straight forwards, keeping her voice level. ‘Finding you guys was the best thing that happened to me. If I die, I want you to know, I appreciate everything you’ve done.’

  ‘Whoa, don’t go talking like that, you’re going to be fine…’ I tried, but she cut me off.

  ‘Listen, I forgive you for the gun thing, and yeah, it annoyed me, especially since you’re a civilian with no training,’ she quickly injected, ‘but it was a good idea. And I know…I know your heart’s in the right place, Kelly.’

  ‘You’re talking like you’re dying…’

  ‘Might be.’

  ‘You were the one who wanted the optimistic outlook.’

  ‘Hah, yeah. Okay.’ She said, nodding, still keeping her voice calm. ‘Just wanted to say thanks, and that while we don’t have the bullets to spare, I can still teach you proper shooting stance. It’s no trouble.’ She added, looking over her shoulder with a smile. Her face was a little pale and sweaty from the pain she’d been through, but she looked…happy. Ish.

  Laurel returned with diluted antiseptic and set to work having a proper clean out of Anita’s wounds with a fluffy towel and a lot of squirming. Once it was all over, she dried her off, and bandaged her back up.

  ‘What now?’ I asked.

  ‘We didn’t find any antibiotics in the apartment search, so I’m just going to have to fight it off on my own,’ Anita said, ‘that, or we make a run to one of the hospitals, or break into a pharmacy. I’m already asking a lot of people to bury my parents. I don’t want to ask any more of you.’

  ‘You can, if you want,’ Laurel stage-whispered, ‘they’re good people.’

  ‘We’ll see if I get any worse,’ Anita smiled at us both, ‘thank you. For everything.’

  Back in the living room, I sat with the group to play the game, and hoped it wouldn’t last as long as some of the runs I’d had at this game - days spent with players loaning out money for property, trading railway stations and hanging in by a thread. Not that I didn’t like it, but we did have stuff to do tomorrow…

  Not everyone was into the game however. Lucile, Laurel and Anita went to play cards in the kitchen, using a poker set I’d gone to fetch after the ladies declared their disinterest. We’d been going for maybe ten minutes when a smoking break was declared for those who partook. I went onto the balcony with them anyway, since the rain had stopped it seemed a good point to get some fresh, if slightly smoky, air.

  ‘Should have picked some more cigs up at the shop.’ Lucile observed, leaning over the edge to look down.

  ‘Always tomorrow,’ Damian assured her, ‘I got plenty left. But we going to be cutting down, yeah?’

  ‘You can, more for me…’ Lucile muttered.

  ‘You got any bad habits you’ll miss?’ Damian asked me, passing his cig on to Laurel, a social smoker at best.

  ‘Don’t know if it’s a bad habit, but going online I’ll miss. Games with friends, pretty much the only way I stayed in touch with some people.’ I shrugged, ‘Going to have to make new friends.’

  ‘Texting.’ Laurel said after me, ‘I thought I’d miss it. Always had my phone on me, always talking to somebody. Since the battery died, I’m actually kinda relieved.’

  ‘Probably for the best then. You’d have to swap ears to take a call now anyway.’ I teased. She punched my arm. Damian chuckled, but looked out over the balcony when Laurel turned to him. It hurt more than I think she intended, but I tried not to rub it while she was looking.

  ‘Ready to go back in?’ Lucile asked, dabbing her end into an ashtray.

  ‘Hold on,’ Laurel said, holding up a hand, ‘can you hear that?’

  ‘Give it time before you use that one again,’ I said.

  ‘No, seriously, listen…’ she muttered, leaning over the balcony railing and peering off towards the road. We joined her, and strained our ears. She’d heard the Deserters’ SUV coming before any of us had, that first trip across the road. Sharp ears.

  Something was coming, something with a big engine. I ran inside, dashing to the kitchen side where I’d left those binoculars earlier.

  ‘Where’s the fire?’ Neville asked.

  ‘There’s a vehicle coming!’ I replied, my voice going louder, excited, worried, a little of both.

  My body, tired from the day’s labours, didn’t know how to respond to this. If they’d heard the gunshots, maybe they were just concerned citizens coming to investigate, or maybe they wer
e reinforcements called in by the Deserters - here to search the area for the group that killed their friends.

  ‘I have another pair of binoculars in my kitchen,’ Neville declared, leaping out of his chair and heading for the door, towards his apartment.

  Morgan ran ahead of me out onto the balcony, but Anita stopped to pick up Laurel’s rifle from beside the door. I let her go ahead as well.

  The hairdresser gave a nod of thanks as the policewoman handed her the rifle. She put the strap over her head, and went straight to looking down her scope.

  ‘Let us know what you see.’ Anita requested.

  ‘I’ll give you live commentary.’ Laurel promised.

  ‘I’ll share.’ I said to Damian, giving him a nod before putting the binoculars up to my eyes.

  I know nothing about binoculars. I’m just going to put that out there now. I assume you can adjust them for focus, but these seemed alright for looking up the road.

  ‘Truck’s coming,’ Laurel mumbled, concentrating, ‘can just see headlights, too dark for much else.’

  ‘I’ve got it too, just coming down the main road now.’

  ‘We know, we can see the headlights too.’ Lucile said, giving me a pat on the back.

  The headlights and the dark silhouette behind them drew closer to our neck of the woods, towards the little plaza. As the angle of approach changed, the lights pointed to the side rather than right at us, so we got a better look at the truck.

  It sat high off the road, the ground clearance to go off-road and the tyres to match. The front cab was flat-faced with four doors, a bit like the front of a fire-truck, only the whole thing was dark green or black, hard to tell in the dark. At the rear of the cab was a canvas-framed shelter over a flat bed.

  ‘Looks pretty standard for any kind of military vehicle,’ Laurel kept up her commentary, ‘might be four guys up in the cab, could be twenty riding under the canvas.’