A World Fallen

by Carter, Nicholas Lawrence

  "I think it's because there wasn't much out here before it all went down, so there isn't much reason now for them to be around here now."

  "Whatever it is, I'll take it." Sweetie interjects.

  Her comment brings forth a smirk from Rosaline. Sweetie notices her reaction, waits for her glance, then winks at her.

  "We should get moving again. It's already going to be dark before we get back. I don't want Zee to worry." Hawaii says.

  They retreat back up to the spring house and grab their gear. Hawaii throws the deer over his head, laying it across his shoulders so that his backpack keeps it in place.

  "Hello! How are you doing?" a voice calls out them.

  Their bodies stiffen. This voice came from the other side of the spring house. Hawaii peeks around the corner to see a man standing about twenty feet away from them. He's old, dirty, and shaking.

  "Hello?" the stranger says again.

  "Shit!" Hawaii whispers, looking back to the women. Tension mounts in them, they know they can't run. The stranger speaks, it's either Adapted or a real person, either way it'll follow them, and there's a good chance it's not alone.

  "I know you're over there. I saw you runnin'. Do you need some help?"

  Hawaii's breathing increases, sweat beads on his forehead, he looks to his hunting partners, but no one has an answer for this situation. Rosaline's mood has noticeably dropped. She doesn't appear worried or anxious, her face is as stern as they've seen her yet. Sweetie's leg nervously twitches, her face is flushed, and she bites her bottom lip as her eyes race back and forth between Hawaii and Rosaline.

  Hawaii puts his hand up to them and slowly nods his head.

  "No, no help. Please go back the way you came." Hawaii yells at the stranger.

  "No help? Are you sure?"

  "We're sure. Please leave."

  His eyes sway to Rosaline. His are filled with concern, but hers hold only anger.

  "If you need somethin' fixed I'm real good with my hands." the stranger says.

  "We don't need anything." Hawaii replies.

  "Why you hidin? Is someone hurt? I got a place nearby. It's safe. I got medicines inside."

  Rosaline intently shakes her head back and forth, "That's a lie." she whispers.

  "No one is hurt. Leave us alone. Go back the way you came." Hawaii hastily says.

  "Oh now," -the stranger's tone lowers, becoming flat and devoid of the previous enthusiasm- "you and I both know I can't do that."

  The group exchange glances. The reality of the situation setting in for Hawaii and Sweetie.

  "You can. Just turn around and walk away."

  "No, no I can't. I've seen you, can't ignore that."

  "This doesn't have to be like this."

  "I think you know it does."

  The ominous state of the stranger's reply weighs heavily upon them, beating down as though death itself were speaking to them. Rosaline drops her backpack to the ground, retrieves her hammer, goggles, and gloves. The speed at which she readies herself is alarming.

  "It's right, it does." she says, looking to Hawaii.

  Hawaii mouths "No!" to her, but she brushes past him. Sweetie reaches for her arm, but she pulls away. She steps out from behind the spring house, squaring up with the stranger.

  "Are you alone?" she asks.

  The stranger's head tilts to the side. She can't figure out if it recognizes the significance of her question, or if it genuinely doesn't understand her.

  "You think there's blood and flesh here for you? There's not. You picked the wrong people to fuck with." she angrily says, her jaw clinched, the words barely escaping.

  The stranger's eyes widen, it's stance tenses up. This is not a stranger, it is an Adapted, but Rosaline has already suspected as much.

  "You know we're here. Where are your others?" -she unsheathes the knife from her belt, and holds it up, pointing it at the Adapted- "At least make this a challenge for me."

  The Adapted looks to the worn down barn.

  "Boys!" it shouts out.

  In a terrifying frenzy of morbid silence two other Adapted emerge from the barn.

  "ROSALINE!" Sweetie screams, panic and fear twisted around every letter.

  Rosaline looks back to the spring house to see Sweetie and Hawaii hurrying to her. Behind them are two more Adapted running their way.

  "Fuck the noise rules, shoot them!" Rosaline yells, then charges at the three in front of her.

  As she careens toward them she surveys the environment. They're spread out, this is good. The other two wont have enough time to get to her before she kills the first one. None of them are especially large, in fact one of them is barely bigger than her, also good.

  As she closes in on the one closest to her, it takes off in a mad sprint at her. Its arms stretched out, its mouth agape, and a bloodthirsty rage in its eyes.

  She pulls her arm back, feigning a strike with her hammer. The Adapted rears back in anticipation. Just as she is within its arms reach she suddenly drops to the ground, landing on her side, and furiously swings the hammer at its kneecap. She connects with bone crushing force sending it toppling over her. She rolls through the maneuver coming back to her feet, nearly instantly, and charges back at it. She plunges the knife deep under its jawbone, ending its feeble fight.

  She looks back to the see the other two are racing for her now. She heard gunshots as she approached the one she just killed. She looks up to see that Sweetie has taken down one of the Adapted already, but the other is still coming for them. Hawaii and Sweetie are now running towards the pile of rubble that was once a house.

  Rosaline turns her attention back to the other two that came from the barn. She runs wide left in the direction of the barn, attempting to put it between her and them. She stops once she reaches the far side. The Adapted split up, each coming at her from opposite sides.

  With no time to plan she rushes the one to her right. She barrels into it with her shoulder, knocking it to the ground. She swings her hammer at its head, but its hand blocks the blow. The other Adapted grabs her from behind, lifting her off her feet.

  She feels its hot breath as its mouth closes in on her neck. She throws the hammer over her shoulder as she leans forward, and in a stroke of luck, bashes its teeth. Its head jolts back. She drops the hammer and places her hand under its chin pushing up with all her might. She stabs wildly at its neck, puncturing it over and over, until it releases its hold on her.

  She falls to her knees, coughing in a mad fit. She looks up in just enough time to see the other Adapted jumping at her. It tackles her to her back, but she only needed a moment of awareness to be ready. By the time they both hit the ground her knife is buried under its chin.

  She pushes it off her and rolls away from it, regaining her footing. The other Adapted is still moving at her, though now crawling on its knees--slowed by the blood loss from its neck.

  She circles around it to her hammer, picking it up as she passes it, then swings hard over her head bashing its skull. It slumps to the ground. She smashes it head again and again until she's confident its days of being a threat are over.

  She races around the barn and heads toward the pile of wood and cement that was once a house. Hawaii and Sweetie have scaled the rubble to the highest point they can. Sweetie fired all the shots that were loaded in the rifle, but her nerves got the better of her and she managed to kill only one of the Adapted. Hawaii used his arrows when he got to the rubble, but only one caught its neck. This wasn't enough to stop it.

  The Adapted ascends the debris, gurgling and howling an evil that will forever haunt them. Neither of them had a plan when they started climbing, and their inexperience in fighting these monsters is not serving them well.

  Seemingly out of nowhere Rosaline comes racing from behind them. She reaches the lowest point of the wreckage and climbs up after the Adapted. She grabs its leg and pulls it down. It turns to her and lunges, leaving its feet. She twists to her side, it smacks against her, and they tumble
down the homely remains.

  Once she hits the ground Rosaline urgently rolls away and up to her knees. The Adapted moves as quickly as she does, both of them now standing only a short distance apart.

  A devious fire of brutality burning within it, the Adapted screeches. Rosaline lets her anger flow forth from her and screams back at it in return. It lunges at her again, but she jumps back and swings her hammer cracking it in the head. Momentarily stunned, the Adapted drops to one knee. Rosaline leaps forward and swings, connecting with its head once more. The Adapted falls limp, plummeting down on its face.

  She puts her foot on its back, "FUCK YOU!" she screams.

  She grips her hammer as tight as she can and swings away again. She smashes its head repeatedly, screaming in a frenzy of anger and unhinged emotion. Her hammer barrels down upon the decaying head, crunching and crushing until all the bone and brain have mixed into a morose slushy soup.

  Hawaii and Sweetie, still trembling with fear, watch on as the newest member of their family exhibits a level of violence and rage they've yet to see from a person. For as relentless as the diseased are, it appears that Rosaline's fury matches in equal measure. They share looks of concern, not quite sure what this showing of force from Rosaline means.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “He’s awake.” Daisy says.

  The three have spent the last few days in a secluded house they happened upon in the country. Previously, before happening upon the boy, they were moving from house to house in a small town.

  They’d been there about two months with no sign of diseased. When the first one appeared, and attacked them, they decided to move on.

  The boy has been recovering well, Norman has observed. They’re not sure if he will talk them, or if he’s even capable. He’s managed to survive this far, so they expect he’s able bodied to some extent.

  Norman and Jack are in the downstairs living room of the decent sized two story house when Daisy comes to alert them. They’ve made sure to have one person always watching over the boy. Due to the scars on his forearms Norman has been anxious about leaving the boy alone.

  “Has he said anything?” Norman asks.

  “No, he’s only been awake for a few minutes. He’s had some water, and he’s sitting up now.” Daisy replies.

  Norman’s gaze returns to Jack, a somber hope resting in his eyes. Jack places his hand on his husband’s leg, squeezes lightly, and forces a smile. He’s not as hopeful as Norman about the boy.

  The three trek up the stairs and to the room the teen has been resting in. They find him pushed up against the wall, in the corner of the bed, sheets covering him. His left eye is still bloodshot. Norman has been concerned that it may be a previously sustained injury that has turned permanent. It’s possible he's partially blind.

  Upon their entry into the room the boy tenses up, and his eyes bulge with fear. Norman shows his palms to him and approaches him slowly. He pulls the chair that Daisy has been using closer to the bed, and sits next to the teenager. Norman flashes a warm smile and speaks softly.

  “Hello.” he says, “My name is Norman, and I’m a doctor.”

  He motions to Jack.

  “This is my husband, Jack.”

  Then to Daisy.

  “And our friend Daisy.”

  He observes the boy, trying to figure out if he understands his words. The boys eyes followed Norman’s hand as he spoke. They didn’t move erratically. He appears cognizant.

  “I would like to speak with you for a bit to make sure your recovery is going well. Does that sound alright?” he asks, a soothing ease to his tone.

  The boy does not respond, audibly or otherwise. He remains with his back pressed against the wall and the sheet pulled up to his neck.

  “Are you able to understand me?”

  The boy slowly nods his head. Norman’s elation breaks though, his face puffs, he sharply inhales, and his lips curve joyously.

  “That’s good, that’s good. What is your name? Can you tell me that?”

  The frightful teen allows the sheets to slip down a bit, and his legs loosen from their position against his chest. His mouth opens, but he hesitates.

  “It’s alright. We want to help you, but I need you to tell me how I can do that. It’ll be much easier if we know each other’s names.”

  The boy’s tongue gently runs along his cracked bottom lip.

  “Patrick.” he whispers.

  Norman peers back to Jack and Daisy, whom return his relieved look.

  “Hi Patrick, it's nice to meet you. Can you tell me if you're in any pain?”

  Patrick nods.

  "Are you in pain often?"

  He nods again.

  "Is this pain new?"

  He nods a third time.

  "Can you point to where it hurts?"

  Patrick points to his gut and his foot.

  "Your stomach and your foot?"

  Patrick bobs his head.

  "You were quite ill when we found you. Did you eat a raw animal?"

  "Rabbit." Patrick softly mutters.

  "That's what made you sick. I think you had salmonella poisoning. Nothing serious, and you'll recover fine. As for your foot, I believe you sprained your ankle in your weakened, sickly state."

  No words come from Patrick, but Norman gets the impression that he understands.

  "Can you tell me where the pain you have often is located?"

  One by one Patrick points to his head, his chest, his arms, his shoulders, and his calf.

  "I see. What kind of pain do you feel in your head? Is it sharp, dull, a stabbing, or a burning?"

  The teen holds up two fingers.

  "The second one? Dull?”

  The boy nods, his eyes darting back and forth between Norman, Jack, and Daisy.

  “Does it often seem like things do not feel as they should?"

  Patrick nods.

  "Do you get sad a lot? Feel like it's difficult to move, maybe hard to breathe? Do you get mad sometimes and you don't know why?"

  He nods again.

  "You don't like loud noises, or the bright sun, do you?"

  Patrick shakes his head.

  "The cuts on your arms, did you do that?"

  Patrick tenses up again, his neck becoming rigid and straight.

  "It's alright, but I do need to know. Do you do that when you feel sad?"

  Patrick nods, but only slightly, clearly not wanting to answer this question.

  "Okay, okay."

  Norman looks back to Jack and Daisy, a quiet despondency laying in his eyes.

  "How long have you been alone?"

  Patrick shrugs his shoulders.

  "Where are your parents?"

  "Dead." Patrick replies, the word barely crawling from him.

  Heartache grips Norman. His eyes well, his brow furrows.

  "I'm sorry." he says, the words full of compassion.

  Patrick's gaze moves down to the sheet, his unease visible.

  "I'm sure this is difficult to talk about, but can you tell me what happened to them?"

  Patrick fidgets, his mouth bunches and moves to the side.

  "My dad..."

  Patrick pauses. He inhales heavily and trembles.

  "It's alright, take your time."

  Another long moment passes.

  "He...became a monster...hurt my mom...I-I stopped him."

  Tears well up around Norman's glossy eyes. His mind races, wondering what that must have been like. The horror of having to see that, of having to do that. He breathes in sharply, attempting to keep his composure.

  "I know you're afraid. Sometimes you don't feel like life is worth it, sometimes all you can think about is what you've been through and it hurts, but we're going to help you. Okay? I want to help you. I would like you to stay with us, if you want to. For now, you need to rest, alright?"

  Patrick nods, then rotates away from Norman, and lays on his side. Norman, Jack, and Daisy leave the room, allowing Patrick to restore a sense of calm. J
ack turns to Daisy.

  "Will you stay here for a little longer and monitor him?" Jack asks.

  She nods her head, "Of course."

  Jack takes Norman by the hand and leads him to the bedroom down the hall. Norman's face droops, his attention fixed on the floor.

  "Come here." Jack says, reaching out to his husband.

  Norman accepts Jack's embrace, burying his face into his shoulder. Norman's composure shatters. He wraps his arms around Jack, and he weeps.

  "He's just a boy." he says through his sobs.

  "I know hunny. It's not fair." Jack replies, choking up himself.

  Norman clutches Jack's shirt, gripping it furiously. Droplets of grief raining from him, sorrow and anger swirling about within in.

  "He's just a boy. He's just a boy."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  He watches from inside the barn as Rosaline and Sweetie pass by the fruit garden and continue on to the edge of the perimeter. He waits until they’ve disappeared beyond the tree line before he exits the barn.

  He’s wrestled with himself on how to relay the information he has. He’s not without a heart, he empathizes with the situation Rosaline and Mikey have lived with. More so for the child than for her.

  Rad has always been the skeptical type. He gets it from his grandfather. Growing up as a black man in Alabama he questioned everything. He told Rad it wasn’t a choice, he had to.

  Rad’s mother passed away when he was young. They aren’t sure exactly what was wrong with her. She became ill and never recovered, but she wasn’t infected with the disease. She and Rad’s father both had previous partners, who had long passed before they became involved.

  Rad’s father already had a son when he met his mother. After she passed away, his father, grandfather, and older brother raised him. Despite the often uncivil nature of the tales his grandfather would relay to him, there were never any issues between his father and grandfather.

  This was surprising to Rad later on in life. His father was white, his older brother was white, and his grandfather’s stories of racial discrimination were volatile enough to lead one to believe his grandfather was suspicious and untrusting of every white person.