A World Fallen

by Carter, Nicholas Lawrence

“I get it, just, you know, cut him some slack. He’s your brother. You’re both still alive, and together, that’s gotta be rare.”

  “I hate when you do that chica.”

  Zee cracks a sly smile, tilting her head.

  “I know.”

  “I can hear you!” Outlaw yells from the living room.

  His sister screams back, "¡Vete pal carajo!”

  A short moment passes, followed by another pouting response from Outlaw.

  He yells once more, "¡Comemierda!”

  Zee's eyes widen, grinning again. Sweetie bites her bottom lip, her face scrunching. Her eyes slam shut.

  “He's feisty today, girl.” says Zee.

  Sweetie's lids part abruptly, extending nearly to her hair line, her cheeks red with irritation.

  “Yeah!” she scoffs.

  ◆◆◆

  Rosaline taps her foot against the inside of Hawaii’s heel, widening his stance.

  “Like that, and don’t lock your knees, keep yourself loose, always be ready to move, and be able to do it quickly.”

  He gives a gesture of understanding.

  “It’s a bit more tricky with a bow, than with a gun. A bow has more weight, and is bulkier, but fluid motion is important, no matter what.”

  “Got it.”

  “On my mark, hit all three targets, middle, right, then left. Don’t just turn your body, reposition your stance each time. Ready?” she says, holding her hand up high.

  Hawaii bobs his head then Rosaline drops her hand. Hawaii draws an arrow from the dingy, make-shift quiver on his back, aims, then fires at the first target, hitting it dead center. He realigns his stance, lining up with the far right target, draws another arrow, and lands another bullseye. He spins quickly to his left, drawing an arrow as he rotates, lets loose as soon as his full draw is met, and hits the top of the target.

  “That was good, but your left shots are still a bit too high. Those might not hit enough of the brain to kill.”

  As Rosaline and Hawaii critique his form together, Rad and Mikey continue to practice close quarters combat. Rad, equipped with puffy, barely passable, protective gear moves in a wide circle around the little boy. Gripping the small stick, with a rock duct tapped to the top, the child steadily closes the distance between the two of them.

  “Remember little man, in the kneecap. Just about everything is going to be bigger than you, so you need to bring them down to your level, like your mom does.”

  With a stern ferocity resting in his unyielding gaze, Mikey takes another step closer, shifting to his left in the process, and smacks the rock affixed stick against the puffed cushion on Rad’s knee.

  “Yeah, just like that! One more time!”

  They break, putting distance between them once again. Mikey circles with the much larger man, remaining patient as the gap between them closes. When in range Mikey leaps forward, slightly hunches down, then strikes Rad’s knee again.

  “You’re gettin’ good at that!”

  The child, beaming with excitement, stares up at the behemoth, and holds his hand up high. Rad smacks his against the boy’s, high fiving him.

  “But what happens when I do this?!”

  Rad squats down and hoists Mikey high into the air, then drapes him over his shoulder, and runs around the trees on the edge of the small clearing. Laughter bellows forth from both of them. Rad extends his arms as far as he can, the boy at the end of them, and raises him up then down, repeatedly.

  “Aaaaahhhh!” the towering man softly shouts.

  On one of his downward rotations his eyes catch Rosaline, leaning against a tree, watching the merry duo. Rad abruptly halts their playful interaction and returns the boy to the ground.

  “Sorry.” he bashfully says.

  “No, it’s fine. He has fun when you’re out here.” she replies, an amused grin upon her face.

  The excited boy runs to his guardian, his arms flailing in the wind.

  “Did you see me? I was flying!”

  Her hand rubs his head.

  “I did buddy, it looked fun.”

  “It was!”

  “I’m glad.”

  Her attention moves back to Rad.

  “We should head back to the farm.”

  “Alright, I’ll pack this stuff up. You gonna help me little man?”

  The child peers at his caretaker, she motions her approval, then he skips back to the cushion covered man.

  ◆◆◆

  “I see them! Hide! Hide!” Sweetie exclaims, her eagerness boiling over.

  Outlaw and Zee duck behind the couch. Sweetie retreats to the kitchen, hiding around the corner, making sure she’s out of view from the windows. It takes the returning troupe several minutes to put up the supplies they carried with them. Sweetie’s anticipation grows with each passing second. Hardly able to contain herself, an expression of absolute joy engulfs her face. Her stomach flutters and turns, and her heart pounds with vigor.

  The sound of feet stomping up the steps alerts the hiding three. The front door gently pushes open.

  “Calm down, why are you guys pushing p-”

  Rosaline’s question falls silent as she enters the house, and the large banner above the couch comes into full view. HAPPY ANNIVERSAY! in huge letters is written in strawberry juice across the long white fabric.

  “What is-”

  Again her thought isn’t finished, this time not from her own stunned curiosity, but from Outlaw and Zee springing into view from the behind the couch.

  “SURPRISE!” Zee, Outlaw, Rad, and Hawaii exclaim in unison.

  Rosaline’s eyes remain wide, still not sure what’s going on.

  “Happy anniversary nena!”

  Still in a state of curious shock, her head turns to see Sweetie standing just out of the kitchen, holding a plate of strawberries, cut in many different shapes and sizes. The Latina hurriedly strides toward her, and places the plate of strawberries on the low table by the couch.

  “One month ago you kissed me in the barn, and asked me to take a risk with you, for you and me to be together. That night was filled with my first moments of not being alone, of being linked so deeply with another.”

  Sweetie tenderly takes Rosaline’s hands within hers.

  “Ros, you are everything I could want out of life, and so much more.”

  Overwhelmed by the emotions swirling within her, the young warrior’s eyes grow wet, glistening under the setting sunlight breaking through the windows.

  “I laugh every day with you. I go to sleep every night excited to wake up in the morning next to you. When we touch I feel complete, in a way I didn’t know I could.”

  Sweetie pulls Rosaline close to her. Their bodies press together, her arms link around her companion's neck, Rosaline's around her partner's waist.

  "You are the best part of being alive." the short, emotional warrior says.

  "You're amazing nena. I always felt like I was missin' something, like I'm empty in some weird way, but ever since I met you, that feeling has been less and less. Over the past month I realized that what I was missing was you. You've filled the empty parts of my heart, healed me in a way I didn't know I needed. You make me so happy."

  The world fades away. In this moment there is only the two of them. Only the wondrous sense of joy surging between the lovers. Sweetie's brow raises, her eyes beckoning.

  "You gonna kiss me or what nena?" Sweetie says, an elated expression filling her face.

  She leans into her partner, their lips meeting in a tender display of passion. The Family cheer, soaking in the blissful experience. These moments aren't bountiful, for any of them, but today there is no disease, no infected, no Adapted, no morbid savagery. On this day there is only jubilation.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  The wind bustles with a low hum, the faint sound of brittle winter leaves crackling carries across the muddy land. The sun is out, but even in the height of day gloomy clouds plow over the star, washing out its rays. The atmosphere of this once
lively planet pounds with dread, and on this day more so than it has in the rotations preceding.

  The hum of the air, the crackling of the leaves, the cries of a defeated and anguished man. They carry on separate waves but mix within the ear. A somber, dreary chill blankets the marsh-like soil, bearing down upon them like a great weight.

  Norman howls, he sobs, his fist pounds the dirt, his tears add more moisture to the shirt of his shallow breathed lover. Jack’s pigment has all but faded, his strength passed from his figure long ago. The hand that covered his wound now resides on the ground, balled into a loose curl.

  The sound of a rustling, something being pulled from a leather case, the click of a safety being switched off, the pull of a handguns hammer. The noises permeate the damp air. Norman’s ears prick up, he whirls around in a frenzy of emotion.

  “NO!” he screams, his voice straining to sustain the one syllable.

  “Norman.” Karo says, filled with more compassion than any of them have witnessed from him.

  “No! He has more time, he has more time.”

  Jack’s eyes blink, he winces, a rough cough slips from his throat.

  “Nor...Nor-”

  Norman turns back to his husband, his hands grip his face.

  “No, no. You-you can’t...you have...you have more time.”

  “He doesn’t.” Karo says from behind them, his tone flat, but curved with empathy.

  Norman squeezes his eyes shut, his teeth grit in a fury.

  “He does!”

  “Norman, please.” Daisy says, moving closer to them.

  “NO!” Norman shouts again.

  Patrick’s head hangs down, his hands covering his ears. He hasn’t moved from next to Jack since he sat beside him.

  “He’s not your husband, you-you don’t get to decide.” Norman says.

  Karo’s brow furrows, a look of pain and torment smacks across him.

  “It’s not up to any of us.”

  Daisy places a comforting hand upon Norman’s shoulder, but the sorrowful man shrugs her away.

  “Don’t make him turn. We don’t know what that’s like, he-he shouldn’t have to know.” she says.

  “He has more time.”

  Karo raises the gun, pulling the hammer back again.

  “I’m sorry Norman.”

  Norman throws himself back on top of Jack, his face pressed against his companion’s.

  “Please, please, don’t. I’m-I’m not ready.”

  Daisy’s lip quivers, her body trembles. She peers to Karo, loss and sadness resting in her gaze. They exchange no words, no movements or actions, there are none to be had. A fit of coughs quake the dying man’s chest. Norman lifts off him, his hands race over his lover’s face.

  “I love you, I love you so much.”

  He stares into the eyes of the man who holds his heart, and watches as the gleam flickers and fades from them. His ducts dried, his gut sore from the tremors, his gaze lay wearily fixed on the pale figure that has been his world. There are no more emotions left to come, only eventual acceptance.

  “Patrick come here.” -Daisy’s arm extends to him- “You need to move away now.”

  “Norman.” Karo regards him again, “You need to-”

  The grieving man nods, his hands slumping in defeat.

  “I will, I-I just...”

  Norman kisses the forehead of his lost lover. His fingers gently close Jack’s eyes. He unties the jacket residing around his husband’s waist, bundling it up and holding it close to his chest. He rises to his feet, his knees weak and soggy.

  “I-I can’t watch.”

  “I know.” Karo softly replies.

  Norman slowly trudges away from the lifeless body that has brought him so much joy, knowing that he’s walking away from a piece of himself, a part of his soul, a bit of his own purpose. He doesn’t look to Daisy as he passes her, her arm wrapped around Patrick’s shoulders. He stops at the backpack Jack dropped to the ground before he rushed the infected, he falls to his knees next to it, pulls it to him, and clutches it.

  Karo raises the gun again, aiming at Jack’s head. His brow furrows noticing that no pigment has returned to the lost traveler. Karo waits minute after minute, silently, until half an hour has passed by, and still Jack’s body does not move. Daisy sits Patrick near Norman, not too close, but within reaching distance. She waits until she’s right beside Karo before she speaks. She keeps her voice low, barely above a whisper.

  “Do you know how long it takes?”

  “Not long, minutes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “An infection from an Adapted works quickly.”

  “How many times have you seen someone turn?”

  “Enough to know it doesn’t take this long.”

  “So then, what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, but-”

  His words halt, but she can tell the wheels are turning inside the jaded man. Karo cautiously approaches Jack. He studies him for a long moment, before nudging the pale man’s leg with his foot. No movement or reaction follows. Karo kneels down, places his hand on Jack’s arm, then his face. A peculiar idea springs to him. He pulls Jack’s shirt up and places his palm on the withered man’s chest.

  “He’s cold.”

  “What does that mean?” Daisy responds, a perplexed look painted on her.

  “They don’t get cold. When infected, the victim ‘dies’ in a sense, their brain shuts down and sort of restarts, they lose everything that made them human. They become shells, husks, only driven by a need for violence. Their heart never stops pumping, it slows down, an awful lot, but it doesn’t stop.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I've observed it, and back at Oasis they studied an infected as well as someone turning.”

  “That's morbid.”

  “The latter wasn't intentional. The man offered to allow them, after he'd been attacked.”

  Daisy's brow furrows, her hands rest on her hips.

  “But Jack died? Regular died?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wha-what, I don’t understand.”

  “He wasn’t infected.”

  “But he got bit, saliva had to have transferred.”

  “Yeah, it certainly did, but he hasn’t turned, and he’s not going to.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I think...”

  Karo rises, his attention staying on Jack for another moment, before turning away and walking past Daisy.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get my backpack.”

  “What? Why?”

  The solemn man doesn’t respond. Daisy shakes her head, confused by the events playing out. Not more than thirty seconds later Karo returns with his backpack. He kneels down next to Jack again, unzips the main pouch, and pulls a large hunting knife out. One too big to carry on his person.

  “What’s going on?” Daisy asks, exasperation creeping in.

  Karo turns his head, and their eyes meet. A stern look rests on his face.

  “I think he’s immune to the disease.”

  “What?! Are you serious?”

  “What else would stop him from turning?”

  “I-”

  A motion of bewilderment stops her.

  “Wha-what does this mean?”

  “I don’t know, but it might be worth looking in to.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “I can’t.”

  “You’re not making any sense right now.”

  Karo removes a small, clear bottle from his backpack. He unscrews the cap, then pours the liquid over the blade of the knife.

  “What’s that?”

  “Alcohol. I’m sterilizing the blade.”

  “Are you going to cut him open?”

  “Yes, to get blood. He’s been dead for a little over half an hour, his blood will be pooled to his lower extremities, the back of his legs mostly. I need you to help me. We have to put him on his stomach, I’ll open his l
eg, you need to collect the blood, and we have to do it fast.”

  “Are you fucking serious? We can’t do this to Jack. We can’t do this in front of Norman.”

  Karo’s head whips around suddenly, the action startling her.

  “What if he is immune? What if a cure can be found with his blood?”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Then how the fuck are you going to find a cure?!”

  “I’m not going to find it, but I know people who might be able to.”

  Karo turns back to Jack, studying his body. Daisy's mind scatters, her emotions raise. Sifting through her thoughts being more difficult than usual, it takes a moment for the realization to hit her.

  “Oasis. You think they can do that?”

  “I don’t know, but scientists live there, or they did when I lived there. Two of them that I know of. The ones who studied the turning and the infection.”

  “And they can do this?”

  “Maybe. I’m not positive what their research was. I didn’t know them well, Maria did. One of them worked in the medical field, and they were able to learn quite a lot from their past studies.”

  “You know how to get back there?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you’re just going to go there?”

  “No, I’m going to take you all there.

  “I thought you couldn’t go back?”

  “I can’t live there, but if I bring the possibility of a cure, they might let you three in.”

  “What if we don’t want to go?”

  “Why wouldn’t you? It’s safe there, maybe the safest place in America, certainly the safest place I’ve come across.”

  “And you’re just doing this out of the goodness of your heart, even though you can’t go back?”

  “For my wife and child. If they’re still alive. If I can provide any kind of safety for them, make their lives easier in any way, I’m going to do it.”

  It is in this moment that the stars align for Daisy, and she understands why Karo is the way he is. He’s a man who feels like he’s a provider, and he’s had nothing to provide, and no one to provide for. She inhales sharply, accepting the situation.