Edge of Survival Box Set 1

by William Oday

  “Dad! It’s Theresa! Can you hear me?”

  …a smart way to do this.

  Theresa tried again and got no response.

  “He can’t hear us,” she said looking at the walkie-talkie like it had personally betrayed her.

  “We can’t go back yet,” Elio said. “We’re only a couple of miles from my apartment. Let’s get my mother and then head back.”

  Theresa bit her lip and stared at the walkie-talkie as Mason continued asking them and then telling them to go home. She clicked it off. “Okay.”

  They gathered up their belongings and then scanned the area again before unlocking the door.

  Elio opened the door and hopped down. He offered a hand and helped Theresa down.

  She landed lightly and smiled. “Sir, you are too kind.”

  Elio attempted an awkward bow with a sweep of his hand across his waist. He didn’t attempt to make it awkward. That was just how it turned out.

  Whatever. He didn’t care. His own shortcomings couldn’t be all that horrible if someone like Theresa could see beyond them.

  “And you, Madam, are too beautiful.”

  49

  The remaining miles to Elio’s apartment passed uneventfully, on the outside at least. The inside was another matter. His thoughts soared to the heights and plummeted to the depths with dizzying speed. It was enough to make him want to barf.

  As they turned left on Sixth Street and Elio saw his apartment building down the street, his stomach jumped. He couldn’t wait to run up the stairs to their one-bedroom fourth floor apartment. To throw the door open and find his mother safe and sound.

  But the nagging doubt in his gut tempered the excitement.

  She could be gone, either from the apartment or from the world altogether. The closer they got, the greater the contrast of his thoughts. One second joyous anticipation and the next wretched resignation.

  “See the faded blue building down on the left?”

  “Yep,” Theresa replied.

  “That’s it. There’s an alley on the near side. Let’s take it and we can park in back.”

  “Got it.”

  As much as his sense of machismo was offended by riding on the back of the cargo bike while Theresa pedaled up front, he didn’t mind having to hold her hips to steady himself. And he enjoyed the smell of her hair as it drifted back over him.

  Theresa carefully steered them around a patch of shattered glass. She turned left and took them around to the back of the apartment building.

  Elio couldn’t believe it. After waiting so long, he was home. “I’ll stash the bike behind the dumpster.”

  Theresa nodded and hopped off.

  Elio hid it as best he could and then turned to the rear door. A large red triangle was spray-painted on it. The symbol of the sickness was pretty much everywhere. It had begun to merge into the background noise. Like billboards on the freeway.

  He opened the rear door. A wave of stink billowed out. Rotten, stifling air that made them both gag. Dim light from the window on the front face filtered down the long hall. He led them in and then tried the door to the stairs. It opened half an inch and then clanged to a stop. Looking through the sliver, he saw something barring it shut. He tried to get his fingers through the crack but there wasn’t enough room.

  “There’s another stairwell at the other end of the building,” he said quietly. He held a finger to his lips and then motioned for her to follow.

  They tiptoed down the hallway, doing their best to step over the bottles and cans and trash that littered the floor. Why did people have to throw their junk everywhere the minute things went south? Did they all do it? Or did just a few do it but enough for everyone?

  Whoever did it, it covered the threadbare carpet like an extra layer. And it reeked. Stank so bad their eyes watered.

  Thinking more about the disgusting taste in his mouth and less about where he was going, Elio planted his foot on a soda can. It crunched flat. The sound echoed up and down the corridor. He froze, waiting for the consequence.

  A door ahead creaked open.

  Elio pulled Theresa into the slightly recessed space of someone’s front door. He flattened into the door as much as he could.

  Further down the hall, stubborn hinges whined in protest.

  A barrel appeared. Black, long, cylindrical.

  A shotgun.

  No. He’d come too far to get killed now. Could life be so cruel?

  The shotgun extended into the hall and then turned in their direction.

  An old lady stepped into the hallway. A black hairnet covered large, bright purple rollers. A cigarette dangled from her lips like she’d forgotten it was there. She turned to him. She wielded a broom in her hands like she was ready to beat the stuffing out of whoever was responsible for the mess.

  Ms. Kaminsky. He’d seen her many times in the past but had never stopped to say hello.

  “Young man, why are you hiding over there? Did you make this mess?”

  The words were more an accusation than a question.

  Elio peeled off the door and sucked air to catch his breath. “No ma’am. I didn’t do this.” He approached her and she raised the broomstick at him.

  “I’m not afraid of you.” She thwacked the wall.

  Elio almost laughed. “Ma’am, you should go back inside and lock the door.”

  “You think I’m afraid? I heard the ruckus. Even with my hearing aid turned down.”

  Ruckus?

  “It’s dangerous out here,” he said. “It’s safer inside your apartment.”

  “It’s always dangerous these days. Used to be a good place for working families. Not anymore.”

  “Do you have somewhere you can go?”

  “What? And leave my home? I’ve lived in this apartment for thirty-eight years. I’m too old to move.”

  He took another step forward.

  She waved the broomstick. “That’s close enough!”

  He didn’t think her old bones could do much damage, but he didn’t want her to have a heart attack trying.

  She adjusted her thick glasses. “Hold on a second. Aren’t you Maria Lopez’s boy?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

  “And who is that hiding behind you?”

  Elio stepped to the side. Theresa wasn’t necessarily hiding. “This is my friend, Theresa West.”

  “Hello,” Theresa said.

  “Come over here, the both of you.”

  They walked over and stopped in front of her.

  “Friend, huh? You two weren’t getting fresh outside my door, were you?”

  Elio looked around at the piles of filth. He couldn’t imagine anyone ever feeling fresh in these conditions. “No, ma’am.”

  “Is he telling the truth, young lady?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, you keep a watchful eye on him. Boys his age have only one thing on their hormone-addled minds. They may talk up your pretty eyes or sweet smile, but their depravities are aimed much lower.”

  She pointed the end of the broomstick at Elio’s chest.

  “They want what’s in your bloomers. Trust me. I remember.”

  Theresa choked and coughed and only partially succeeded in concealing her laughter. “I’ll keep that in mind, ma’am.”

  “Mind that you do.” She turned back to Elio. “Haven’t seen you around since these shenanigans began. Do you think it’s right to abandon your mother in such times?”

  “I was injured. I came back as soon as I could. Have you seen her?”

  “Not for a week or so now. It wasn’t safe to walk out my own front door.” She bristled and her old, curved spine strained to straighten. It didn’t, and she collapsed back into the pronounced hunch that afflicts the elderly after so many years battling gravity. “Well, I apologize for being such an ungracious host.”

  Host? Was she the unelected, post-apocalyptic hall host?

  “Do you like chocolate chip cookies?”

  Elio must not ha
ve heard her right. “What?”

  “Young man, I am too old to waste time repeating myself.”

  “Yes,” Theresa said from behind him.

  She beamed and tapped the broomstick on his chest.

  “Splendid. You go check on your mother and I’ll bake up a fresh batch of cookies. Come by when you’re finished, and I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

  Elio didn’t know what to say. So he was polite.

  “Thank you, Ms. Kaminsky. We will.”

  50

  They continued down the hall and found the other stairwell door unlocked. They were about to head up when the old lady shouted from down the hall.

  “Walnuts or pecans?”

  “What?” he asked.

  “In the cookies. Which do you prefer?”

  “Pecans.”

  It seemed ridiculous, but if he had a choice, he’d choose pecans any day. Walnuts didn’t have much flavor.

  “I’ll have to see if I have any. I know I had some last week when I baked that pecan pie. But I might’ve used them all up. Maybe I could go around—”

  “No!” Elio shouted. “Walnuts are fine!”

  “Well, if you really don’t mind. I guess—“

  “Thanks,” Elio said. “I have to get upstairs to check on my mother.”

  She waved them on. “Well, why didn’t you say so? Get along now. Tell your mother I said hello and I hope she is well.”

  Elio raced up the stairs doing his best not to slap the concrete with every step. He didn’t want to attract any more attention. The next person to hear them might not be so harmless. He rounded the second, third, and made it to the fourth floor. Breathing hard, he darted out of the stairwell, no longer able to control himself. No longer caring if anyone heard his pounding footsteps. He made it to their apartment, number 407, and tried jamming his key into the keyhole. His shaking hands kept missing.

  Theresa came to his side and wrapped her hands around his and calmly guided them forward. The lock clicked and he threw open the door. “Mom! It’s me, Elio! I’m home!”

  He rushed through their tiny living room. The futon couch that also served as his bed at night was in the upright position. He glanced at the kitchen to the left and there wasn’t enough room to miss her. He ran into her bedroom and then into the single bathroom.

  That’s all there was. It wasn’t like you could miss another person in less than five hundred square feet of space.

  Elio sat on her bed as his shoulders crumpled forward. “She’s not here. I should’ve come sooner.” A hollow ache in his chest reminded him of the place where his heart had once lived.

  “Maybe she left a note or something to tell you where she went.”

  Hope sparked in his chest once again. Maybe she wasn’t gone forever. That single candle of burning possibility was everything. But he hesitated getting up from the bed to go check. Because what if there was no note? What if she really was gone forever?

  He wanted to stay seated forever so that the possibility of seeing her again couldn’t be extinguished.

  As he set there paralyzed with hope and fear, a scream from outside the window jolted him to his feet.

  “Help! Help me! Help!”

  He jumped to the window and looked out at the street four floors below.

  Halfway down the block, an overweight man wearing only one sneaker fled down the middle of the street. A short sleeve button up shirt clung to his shoulders and trailed out behind as he ran. The grubby white wifebeater stretched around his belly flopped up and down with the rhythmic motion of his legs pumping on the pavement.

  “Help me!” he screamed as he ran.

  Behind him, several deltas pursued. All men. They shouted meaningless gibberish, only the sounds didn’t need to form words for the communication to be clear.

  Theresa joined him by the window, and they watched in grim horror.

  The deltas caught the doomed man less than twenty yards from Elio’s apartment building. They pulled him down and attacked without hesitation. One bit into his neck and tore out a chunk of flesh. Blood spurted out and arced over splashing little puddles on the pavement.

  “No! No!”

  Another bite and the man’s struggling limbs went limp. His resistance weakened as the deltas began to devour him. They each took their share of the prize with a quiet cooperation that was unsettling.

  Elio turned away and pulled Theresa with him as the beasts began to tear the body apart.

  They hunted, killed, and ate human beings.

  Elio realized they weren’t zombies like you always read about. They weren’t one giant, homogenous mass of flesh-eating idiots. They were smarter than that. The incident on the highway yesterday meant they had tribes or groups that stuck together and were willing to battle outsiders for resources.

  They were like cavemen. Or monkeys or something.

  Human, but not quite human.

  Elio held his arm around Theresa’s shoulder as he walked them both back into the living room. “We couldn’t have done anything for him.”

  Theresa stared at the floor in silence.

  Elio squeezed her in a side hug. “Are you okay?”

  She didn’t blink. “They eat people.”

  He didn’t know what to say. What could he say?

  Yeah, no big deal. Or yeah, that’s so messed up.

  He didn’t know what to think about it himself, and so he had nothing to offer for support. He was grateful to have his attention drawn away as he spotted a piece of paper on the kitchen counter with a can of his favorite soup, chunky clam chowder, anchoring it down. He picked it up.

  “Theresa! Look!” He flapped the sheet of paper wildly in the air. “Come on!”

  Theresa stared at him blankly, still overwhelmed at what they’d just seen.

  Elio grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the door. “The note says my mom is on the third floor at Ms. Garcia’s!”

  Hope once again flared in his chest. He raced down the hall dragging Theresa along. He took the stairs two at a time and got to Ms. Garcia’s door in record time. He pounded on it yelling for his mother, utterly oblivious to the danger so much noise created.

  “Mama! It’s me! Open the door!”

  The door swung open and there she was. Looking skinnier and dirtier than he’d ever seen. But she was alive!

  “Mijo,” she said as he collapsed into her open arms.

  51

  When Elio finally stopped crying, his mother’s shirt was as soaked as his own. Part of him had never believed he would see her again. That the odds were too long and his hope a childish rejection of cold reality. Like closing his eyes would make the bad things disappear.

  But she was alive!

  She kissed his forehead and then turned away as another coughing spell quaked through her small frame. After it subsided, she drew the handkerchief away from her mouth. Bright red speckles dotted the white cloth.

  He listened and finally tuned in to the rattling sound her lungs made as she breathed in and out. “Are you sick?”

  Maria shook her head and smiled as if his concern for her was foolish. “I’ll be fine, Mijo. Don’t you worry about me.”

  Ms. Garcia brought a plate of saltines and hard cheese from the kitchen. “You are sick, Maria Lopez. Don’t try to play your boy the fool.”

  Maria raised her eyebrow at their neighbor. “I don’t recall asking your opinion on the matter, Isabella.”

  Ms. Garcia placed the tray on the small coffee table in front of them and wagged a finger at his mother. “Good friends don’t require permission to speak the truth.”

  Elio clasped his mother’s hands in his. “Mama, you have to come back with us. Theresa’s family has a secure house and plenty of food and water. They’re even getting medicine.”

  His mother’s lips pursed together and curled into a grimace. Elio was well aware of her resentment towards Mason and the blame she laid at his feet for not bringing his father home from the war in Iraq. But she didn
’t know the whole story. Not the truth that Mason had spoken while he thought Elio was sleeping.

  Did Mason kill his father? Yes. But did that make him a murderer? His heart told him no. He’d never personally been in a war, but he was old enough to realize that mistakes could happen when death lurked around every corner.

  Elio hadn’t tried to discuss it with Mason since the night of the revelation. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to discuss it again. And yet, he knew that someday they would. And maybe that someday would be a chance at healing for them both.

  As ill-defined as his own feelings were, he knew without a doubt how his mother would take it. It would only confirm the grudge she’d nursed for so long. And it would only make it worse.

  “You have to come with us, mama. It’s the only chance we have.”

  His mother shook her head. “No, I can’t go. I can’t leave Ms. Garcia alone.”

  “She can come too,” Elio said, without knowing how all of them would get back on the bike or whether inviting another person was a decision he could make on his own. It didn’t matter. He’d say whatever he had to say to get his mother to a safer place.

  Ms. Garcia folded her arms over her ample chest and shook her head. “I will be going nowhere. This has been my home for many years, and it will be my home to the day that I die.”

  “Isabella,” his mom said, “you can’t stay here alone.”

  Ms. Garcia looked at her like she was crazy. “If I remember correctly, it was I who knocked on your door bringing frijoles and tea. I’ve got quite enough stored up to outlast this little spell of confusion.”

  “Mama,” Elio said, “you need medicine and Theresa’s mother has it.”

  Theresa nodded. “It’s true. My mom is the chief veterinarian at the Los Angeles zoo. Or at least she was. She brought home enough medicine for any of us that need it.”

  “I’ll pack you some food for the trip,” Ms. Garcia said.

  Maria stood up and swayed a little bit until she rested her hand on Elio’s shoulder for support.

  Ms. Garcia wagged a finger in her direction. “Don’t make me kick you out of my home. I would prefer we part on good terms.” With that, she turned back into the kitchen as if the matter was settled.