by David Menard
“Cindy I. I am sorry. I just loved her so much, we were married for so long. I don’t know what to do now without her,” John apologized crying. Gabe approached his father and embraced him, Melody crying behind them. John sniffled, took a deep breath, and looked to Cindy. “We wait. Right or wrong, I am sorry; I trust you,” he added.
The gun’s weight amplified with each passing second, her palms sweaty. John stood beside her, holding his son. Marie was lifeless, soon to reanimate into a zombie. I can’t do this. She was my friend. Marie’s body jerked up suddenly, a single hand grasping for the air. Cindy waited, making sure she saw her eyes. Marie began lifting her torso and became transfixed on the buffet before her. Cindy turned to John and he simply nodded. She trembled and her hands had become clammy. A tear caressed Cindy’s cheek as she lifted the gun, took aim and fired.
John and his son sat quietly together inside of a tent, not one of them uttering a single word. Melody decided to wait outside of the tent and let Cindy figure out what to do. She felt sad for Gabe, she wanted him to be happy, happy with her, but with what happened she felt like he never would be. Her thoughts were interrupted by Cindy’s hand touching her shoulder.
“What happened Cindy? How did Sharon become one of them? Was there a creature in the bathroom?” She asked panicking. Cindy shushed her and pulled up a few chairs next to Melody. She walked to the tent and turned around.
“Gabe and John have to hear this too,” She said quietly and walked into the tent. She came out within seconds along with John and Gabe. They sat down waiting for Cindy’s explanation of the situation. “To answer one of your questions Melody, there was no other zombie in the bathroom, Sharon was alone. She was not bit by one of those monsters either.” She said as each of their heads perked up at this startling news. “Sharon killed herself, she cut both of her wrists and died on the bathroom floor. She used her car keys to do it; she must have been cutting repeatedly,” Cindy took a deep breath. “Her keys were soaked in blood on the floor and after looking over her body I saw no bite marks. I figure that whatever this disease or virus is, it must be airborne now. It might be coming off their decaying skin and into the air and-“ she explained before being cut off by Melody.
“Does that mean we are going to become zombies?” she asked full of fear. She was fidgeting in her seat now. She had her hands in between her closed knees, shaking as she waited for an answer. She asked the question that was on all of their minds.
“I don’t think so not right away at least. Because this virus kills people before it turns them, I think that if we die, even by natural causes we change. Sharon died from blood loss and then she became one of them,” Cindy answered Melody’s question calm and collectively. She had read this similar scenario before; in some way, shape or form it always became airborne.
“So we have to cheat death to make this go away?” John asked breaking his long silence. Gabe looked up at his father then shifted his gaze to Cindy. Melody seemingly mimicked Gabe’s actions. Cindy could see the anguish in John’s eyes; she couldn’t fathom the pain he was going through.
“No, we can’t cheat death and this will never go away,” Cindy answered. They carried something deadly, even survival could spell death for others down the line. Cindy folded her arms and tilted her head in thought. If we escape and the virus is contained, we would inevitably spread it.
“So even if things return to normal, if someone dies the virus will turn them into a zombie?” asked Melody who finally understood the grimness of their situation. Gabe walked to Melody and hugged her.
“I’m afraid so, but I may not be right, I am only speculating,” Cindy replied. She didn’t know how to make them feel better about everything. She knew her ideas were probably correct. She always had good intuition, and so far she had been right on everything.
They sat in silence. They had just lost two people because of this deadly disease. John and Gabe suffered a heartbreaking loss that would scar them for the rest of their lives. John was their leader in the beginning, but Cindy would need to be the one to lead them through this. They would not survive without a leader, if they would survive at all.
….
Sharon Finley sat in silence within the confines of the bathroom stall, the gruesome death of her son flashing through her mind. She couldn’t cry, her despair was intense, yet tears would not form. She stared blankly at the stall door, ignoring the graffiti, lost in thought. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I cry? Drew…...sweetheart….
She rose to her feet and opened the stall, walking on shaky legs. The lighting was awful, dim yellow light filled the room. She approached the sink, ran some cold water and splashed it in her face and stared. Sharon did not recognize herself. Coward! You let your little boy die! It should have been you!
“Momma?” called out a child from behind her. She looked up and saw a stall door opening in the mirror. Sharon turned around quickly; the stall door was closed. She looked back in the mirror and saw the door closed. She splashed more water in her face in disbelief. Once her eyes were open she saw him. She saw Drew standing behind her.
“Drew!” she exclaimed feeling a wave of emotion crash over her. She dare not turn around in fear of him vanishing. He looked just as he did before they attacked him, mismatching clothes and all. “Sweetheart, how did you get here,” she asked, a smile forming on her face.
“Momma, you let them get me!” the ghost boy cried pointing at Sharon. He approached her, a questionable look on his face. He tilted his head and gave Sharon innocent eyes.
“Drew, baby, I am so sorry! I couldn’t stop them, please forgive me!” Sharon pleaded with her hands clasped. Her boy was there, saying goodbye, a miracle from above.
“Don’t be sorry Momma, I am in a better place now! Come with me, we can play together!,” the ghost boy replied standing beside her reflection, smiling menacingly. His skin was turning pale.
“I want that more than anything baby, but I can’t. I am sorry!” she cried, tears finally rolling down her face. Her breathing became heavy, she was soaked in sweat. She felt sickness overcoming her.
“Yes you can Momma. Look in your hand!” the sinister child instructed his mother. Sharon glanced down to her right hand, she was clenching her blood soaked keys. She looked back to the mirror and jumped in fear. Her son in the mirror was now mutilated, a sinister grin caressing his partially torn face. His forehead had a flap of skin that hung down over his eye, his bottom lip completely missing. His right ear was completely torn off, his arms had chunks missing from them and all of his fingers were bit off.
Sharon saw her way out of this world, and her beloved Drew showed it to her. She looked up to him and nodded. In a swift motion she stabbed her wrist with her car key and started dragging it upward. Fire filling her veins.
“Up the road not across the street Momma! Hehehe,” the insidious fabrication giggled, encouraging Sharon. The imaginary apparition threw its hands up to its face and starting jumping. “Almost there Momma, one down and one to go!” it cheered indicating her other wrist.
Sharon drove the key into her other wrist with the remaining strength she possessed, her head spinning. Blood was gushing, soon she would be with Drew. Cindy Drawstring would later suggest the possibility of an airborne virus. This hypothesis would be incorrect as the blood that stained the keys, belonged to one of Drew’s attackers. Whether the afterlife Sharon wanted existed is not certain, however the afterlife she would experience would be a dark, odious one. She looked to the mirror and saw her child was gone. He was never there!.... What have I done! Sharon reached for the door but collapsed, she was growing feint. Color was washing away from the world, along with sound. She was now left alone in a silent world of gray.
Chapter 10: The Sins of Men
“That’s fifty three infected I got, how many have you nabbed Ray?” asked Cody Griffith from atop the blockade. He was gung-ho for shooting the heads off the infected. His blonde hair and pretentious face promoted his cockiness. A legac
y in the military, his father and grandfather serving before him. He had skill, that was for sure, but he was in this position by name only.
Raymond hated the position he was in. He was trained to shoot down terrorists in Iraq, not to kill American citizens afflicted with a terrible plague. He saw an undead stumbling towards his side of the blockade and shot it down quickly, an elderly man, shirt hanging off his torso, missing his right arm. He whispered a prayer for forgiveness afterward.
“Yo Ray! Nice shot. Man we are so lucky to get paid for this” He said chuckling as he shot down another infected. He looked over to Raymond and saw his comrade took no notice. His smile, faded and he focused back on the task at hand.
Raymond stood up and stretched. He had been at his post for over fifty hours already. The government made sure to supply him for weeks of sniping. He had boxes filled with ammunition and a large quantity of food and water. The barricade was the only thing keeping the infection from leaving the perimeter. They had yet to hear word from the Colonel on what the next course of action would be.
After a quick snack Raymond returned to the gun and started picking off a small group of infected. He gazed upon another group, they were running. Raymond saw a family of four running up to the blockade. They were survivors, definitely not undead. “Cody look!” Raymond shouted. Raymond tried to call out to them, but as he did so Cody and the other two soldiers opened fire on the survivors. The family members were shot four or five times and collapsed dead. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?!” Raymond bellowed furiously.
“The Colonel said kill everything in sight, and that’s what I did,” Cody responded, sweat beading down his face. He continued looking for targets. He was ruthless and heartless in Raymond’s eyes. He either did not understand what he was doing or knew exactly what he was doing. The two other soldiers looked back to Raymond leering, not saying a word. One of them approached the bodies, and fired a single bullet into their skulls.
“THEY WERE ALIVE!” Raymond screeched. He hated this job more and more each second. This was murder, they were not protecting, they were butchering. He fell to his knee and tears rolled down. “THE COLONEL SAID TO DIRECT THEM TO THE SCHOOL! YOU FUCKING PRICK!” he added, his voice strained.
“Maybe but, they could be carrying the virus, and we can’t risk anything.…..that’s fifty seven now. They wouldn’t have listened anyways, they were too panicked to listen to reason,” Cody said as he aimed at another infected. He knew what the Colonel really was implying during his speech, the safe zone talk was to appease Raymond. “The next group that comes up, you can talk to them. If they will not listen, they will be met with gunfire,” Cody added nonchalantly. None of the men knew how long they would be posted at the blockade, he didn’t need to make an enemy within the squad.
“I will hold you to that. NO shooting citizens unless they become hostile! Understand?” Raymond responded, shifting his glare from Cody to the other men. The two men nodded, they only spoke amongst themselves. Cody, without looking, merely put his hand up and flicked it. Is this what the world is coming to? Are we becoming monsters? What happens if we are ordered to decimate the population? Raymond thought to himself as he glared at Cody.
Chapter 11: A Handful of Problems
Anthony jumped awake and almost discharged his weapon as a rat brushed against his leg. He stayed quiet listening for the dead. He heard nothing but rats scurrying about and the sound of running sewage. He grabbed his bag and slowly continued through the sewer. He believed he would never see the light of day again. Each step he took echoed softly as he traversed into the unknown. Anthony could not see the gun he was holding in front of him, he was completely blind, he reached the other hand in front of him as a guide.
In the distance Anthony saw a ray of light leading to the surface just ahead. A man hole was dislodged at some point in someone’s attempt to escape. He approached it quickly, the small light illuminating his surroundings. He thought he was home free when an undead emerged from the shadows ahead of him. He shot it in the chest and he almost collapsed, the sound of the gunshot amplified, piercing his ears. Anthony knew he had no time to wait and fired another into the monster’s head, pain seared into his ears. I can’t keep shooting. I will pass out from the noise. I need to move, now!
He reached for the ladder and saw a small horde appear from the shadows. He was unsure how many would be on the surface, but staying in the sewer would mean certain death. He climbed, guns in hands. Each clank from the cold steel of the ladder striking his pistols stirred the creatures. Their groans turned to snarls, their next meal was within their grasp. He climbed swiftly, refusing to look down. He could hear shoes slapping the puddles of grey water, closing in. A thud, then a splash interrupted the sequence of noises Anthony was listening to. A member of the undead gang tripped, causing a pile up. He a few rungs away from freedom when he heard a clang at the bottom of the ladder. Are they following me up here?
He reached the surface, rolled on the ground aiming his guns when he met the end of a double barrel shotgun. It was directed in his face. The sun glinted off the weapon, making it hard to focus on the people hovering above him. He was surrounded by three survivors, each pointing a gun in his direction. Two women and a man looked down at him. The three individuals stepped closer, allowing Anthony to discern their faces.
One woman was middle age, probably in her mid forties with wispy blonde hair. She was short but had a fierce look to her. Her name was Marcy White, a nurse before the apocalypse struck. The second girl was a teenager, she had dark brown hair and was very attractive. Her looks were a ruze, she would put a bullet in your head just for looking at her the wrong way. Her name was Kelly Heller, a high school senior. The man of this small group was a a hardened man, with toughness that pierced through his blue eyes. His white hair was brushed to the side and his beard was neatly trimmed. His name was Burt Lawson, an ex marine special ops. He was the first to speak to Anthony.
“Were you bitten?” Burt said in a raspy voice as he cocked his shotgun. He had a toothpick in his mouth and shifted it side to side. His eyes were reading Anthony, he knew he had to respond soon or die. The gun in his hand, unwavering.
“No, I have managed to keep a distance when I have come into contact with them,” Anthony said nervously to the man with a gun in his face. This would be a tragic end for him, as he had survived worse peril. I survived multiple encounters with those monsters and now I am going to die because an old man is gun happy. Hopefully the girls have some sense in them.
“Check him anyways Burt, I don’t want to take any risks” demanded Kelly. She was smart; taking every last possibility into consideration. “We shoot him if he is,” she added, leering at Anthony.
Nevermind.
“We will have to do that later,” Marcy said as she discharged her weapon into the the sewer as the undead climbed the ladder. “These little bastards learned to climb,” she added firing again. When the dead fell back into the depths of darkness, the sounds of colliding bodies, broken bones and the echo of the ladder emitted from the manhole.
Burt nodded and lifted Anthony off the ground. He peered into the officer’s eyes, trying to discern his honesty. Kelly jumped into the back of a red pickup truck, gun at the ready. Marcy hopped in the passenger seat and Burt motioned Anthony into the back with Kelly. “I hope you are a good shot, you and Kell are in charge of killing any of those assholes we encounter while driving,” Burt said getting into the driver’s seat.
“Where are we heading?” Anthony asked as he slowly climbed into the truck, his body aching. Burt sneered at the newcomer and closed his door. Anthony reloaded his gun and got into a defensive position as the truck started moving. Simple question dickhead!
“We are going towards the plaza, where Quincy's is. We need food, and could use more supplies,” Kelly told Anthony. Anthony saw that although she was tough, she could be kind and gentle when she wasn’t dealing with the undead. He gave Kelly his water that remained in his bottle.
“I’m Anthony,” he replied searching the road for any threats. His priority at the moment was getting information. If he was going to travel with these people he wanted to know exactly what he was dealing with. “How did you survive through all this?” he asked.
“It’s not an exciting story really,” she said taking another shot. “My boyfriend was driving me home when he saw this guy on the ground. Tommy pulled over and went to check to see if the man was okay. The man was not breathing so Tommy tried CPR. The guy was bleeding all over the street. The guy bit Tommy when he got too close, ripping his throat out. As he screamed, and I sat in the car like a coward, more of those fucking things came. I ran out of the car towards the nearest house as they were distracted by Tommy’s screams. If I stayed, I would have been eaten alive by those things,” Tears caressed her face, her eyes red.
