by Stevie Kopas
“I can’t see shit!” Ben cried out as he continued to fire his weapon. Headshots he’d normally have no problem making from this distance were becoming increasingly difficult as the wind whipped rain and sand into his eyes.
Gary swung the shovel wildly, looking as if he were doing a tribal dance as he ducked and jumped, sidestepped and twirled. He breathed heavily and raised the shovel high above his head, bringing it down like a gigantic hammer, severing an eater’s head entirely.
He turned quickly to take on another but lost his footing, hitting the sand hard. He went down and the wind was knocked from him. He struggled to breathe and rolled quickly to the side as an emaciated corpse lunged at him from above. Gary scrambled for the shovel and the eater grabbed hold of his leg. He cried out and tried to shake it free. It pulled itself slowly up body, growling with hunger. Gary wriggled to free his other leg trapped beneath him, but to his horror was unable to do so. He watched as the eater opened its decrepit jaws, almost in slow motion, and pulled itself closer to his thigh.
The eater’s head exploded in a mist of brain and gore.
“Come on man.” Clyde’s light brown arms were under Gary’s armpits, pulling him to his feet. “Let’s get back to the resort.”
The three men retreated to the steps, taking them two at a time, scurrying for safety behind the iron gates of the Emerald City’s pool deck.
Gary collapsed on a lounge chair, his chest heaving. Despite the cold rain, his face was flushed and hot. “Ah, shite, that was too close.”
Ben scrubbed at his bloodshot eyes with his rain-soaked t-shirt, attempting to remove all traces of sand. Clyde stood silently, staring up at his motionless brother, alone on the balcony above. He wrapped his arms around the shovel resting behind his neck and gave Andrew a nod.
Andrew nodded back. His mouth a straight line, his eyes burning from the tears that would no longer come. He gripped the balcony rail and his nostrils flared. He was past the point of sadness, a dark anger taking its place.
He felt it rush through him and his head felt like it would explode. The needle pricks of the rain numbed his skin. He stared down at the blood-soaked sand now, unable to move his eyes from the scene. He watched the rotting eaters as they stumbled over the mound of Juliette’s sandy grave, and his rage reached the boiling point.
He couldn’t, wouldn’t, accept the fact that the love of his life, after making it this far, would have simply given up like this. He would never be able to come to terms with Juliette throwing herself from the balcony and abandoning him in this ugly, festering world.
She was still wearing the ring, Andrew thought, picturing her delicate hand. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He saw her long, slender fingers. The shining diamond sitting so elegantly upon her left hand. He shook his head, he couldn’t make sense of why his beautiful Juliette would leave him like this.
How could she do this to me?
His shoulders shook in anticipation of sobs that never came. He slammed his big fist down onto the railing and opened his eyes. The darkness of the day, the darkness of the world, coming back into focus.
He needed someone to blame for this.
“Catherine,” he mumbled as he turned and walked inside.
V
Catherine and Veronica sat quietly in the living room of the condo that Veronica had shared with Samson. At a loss for words, Veronica mindlessly thumbed through a five-month-old women’s fitness magazine. She’d never known anyone who’d committed suicide. She had an uneasy feeling in her stomach. She looked up at Catherine on the couch across from her. The woman’s eyes were red and puffy. She’d taken Juliette’s death hard. Of course it made Veronica sad, but after everything… she just didn’t know how to show it anymore. Loss was a tiresome thing. Especially a loss that someone purposely inflicts.
Maybe that’s why I’m not that sad.
She threw the magazine down onto the coffee table beside an empty glass candy dish. She sat back and folded her arms, crossing one leg over the other. She eyed the dish and her stomach growled.
Wish there was some candy left in there.
She sighed. “What now?” she asked Catherine.
“We keep doing whatever it is that we do.” Catherine breathed deeply.
The front door opened and Ben walked in, soaking wet and covered in a number of different substances that neither woman questioned.
“There you two are.” He placed his gun and extra ammo onto the countertop of the breakfast bar and rubbed the back of his neck. “We had a close one out there. There were way more of them out on the beach than we expected.”
Veronica got up and went to the balcony door, standing on tiptoes and attempting to spy the swarm of eaters on the beach without going out into the rain.
“Is everybody okay?” Catherine asked, getting off the couch and going to him. She ran a hand through his drenched blond hair and another over the short growth of beard on his face.
“Yeah, everybody’s fine; I can’t say it was a nice burial, but she’s at rest.” He grabbed one of her hands and kissed her fingertips softly.
Their eyes met, Catherine’s fingers still to his lips. “You need to shave. And you smell awful.” She gave him a playful smile. “Go get cleaned up, I’ll fix everyone something to eat. Veronica can help me.”
Veronica watched the two of them from her position near the sliding glass doors. The romance that had blossomed between the two was sweet, something she felt they both needed. But it was far from enjoyable for her. Suddenly she was “the kid” to Ben and Catherine. Suddenly she was helping out with meals instead of cleaning guns and was subjected to all the domesticated boredom the tower could offer. Now that Juliette was gone, she didn’t even have her running partner anymore.
“Sounds good,” Ben responded. He looked at Veronica. “You alright? I mean, with everything that happened, do you need to talk?”
Veronica couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m fine, Ben. Catherine’s right, you stink. Get outta here.” Ben smiled at her and headed toward Catherine’s to clean up.
***
Ben exited the condo, giving himself a sniff. He grimaced, agreeing with the women that he had indeed smelled better. He passed by Andrew’s and the door flew open, startling him. Andrew charged out, brushing past Ben.
“Hey, man, you okay?” Ben called out.
Andrew ignored him and kept his pace toward Catherine’s.
“Hey, where you goin’ man?” Ben scratched at the scruff on his face, “Nobody’s in there.”
Andrew came to a halt in front of the door, his hand unmoving on the doorknob. “Where is she?” His voice was stern and even.
“Who?”
“Where is Catherine?” Andrew turned to look at Ben. Ben could tell there was something going on behind the man’s dark eyes.
“She’s with Veronica.”
Andrew’s nostrils flared and he clenched his fists. He took off toward Veronica’s with a fierceness in his step.
“Hey!’
Andrew shoved Ben to the side again as he passed him.
“Hey man, what’s the deal?” Ben’s confusion turned to concern as Andrew ignored him once again.
Ben ran to Gary’s and banged on the door quickly before he took off running back the way he came. He slammed his fist loudly on Andrew and Clyde’s door, hollering for Clyde and then rushed back to Veronica’s.
This isn’t good, he thought. He could already hear Andrew shouting as he pushed the door open.
“This is all your fault!” Andrew screamed in Catherine’s face. His enormous frame towered over her, a finger in her face, her back against the wall. Veronica stood frozen in the same place as when Ben had left the room. Her eyes were frantic and she seemed to be trying to sink into the sliding glass door beside her.
Catherine sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Andrew, I… I never meant—“
Andrew shoved her back into the wall when she tried to go to Ben. “You never meant what?” His voice got louder and
more threatening with every word.
“Hey! Get the fuck away from her!” Ben boomed from the doorway.
“Nah, man, you need to stay outta this.” Andrew didn’t look at him as he spoke, his glare unbroken, and further fueling Catherine’s fear.
“Like hell I will, I said get the fuck away from her, now. She’s got nothin’ to do with what happened.” Ben stepped forward and Andrew pulled a gun on him.
Catherine sobbed uncontrollably and attempted once more to get away from Andrew. “Take one more fuckin’ step,” Andrew said to her in a low voice, “and you will regret it.”
Ben put both his hands up. “Woah, man, hey, there’s no need for this.” Ben couldn’t believe his eyes. One of his only friends left in the world had a gun pointed at his head. The unease in his gut was growing, practically eating him alive.
He’s lost it.
“No need for this?” Andrew’s brow furrowed. “She did this to us!” He pointed a finger at Catherine who cowered beside him.
“I didn’t do anything but try to help her!” Catherine shouted between sobs.
Andrew backhanded the small redhead and she fell to the floor in a heap of pathetic whimpers.
Ben was filled with rage. “You’re fuckin’ losin’ it man!”
“I have every right to lose it!” Andrew took a step closer to Ben, both hands on the gun, neither of them shaking. “She did this to us! Fillin’ her up with all them fuckin’ pills! Pills I ain’t ever even heard of! I know what worked for Juliette, not her! I don’t give a fuck if she’s a doctor or not!” Andrew’s face twisted and he fought back his tears.
Ben’s shoulders slumped and his rage subsided. He shook his head. “Juliette did this. Nobody else did this but Juliette.”
The door flew open behind Ben as Clyde and Gary burst into the room in a panic. Andrew finally broke, letting the anger go. He dropped the gun to his side and buried his face in one hand. In that same moment, Veronica swooped down, grabbed the glass candy dish from the coffee table and smashed it into the side of Andrew’s head.
The big man grunted and teetered on his feet, stunned by the blow.
“That was for hitting Catherine.” Veronica shouted at a dazed Andrew.
Gary started. “What the—“
“What the fuck’s goin’ on?” Clyde yelled out, rushing with Ben to Andrew’s side, helping him to the couch.
“A whole lot of bullshit,” Veronica answered.
She looked back and forth between Andrew and Catherine, in their own separate worlds of chaos and misery, crumpled on opposite sides of the room. She shook her head and rolled her eyes as she trudged out of the condo.
“Michelle’s the only damn one with any sense, for once,” Veronica mumbled as she made her way toward the silence and solitude of the central building. She was going to find a secret room of her own.
VI
Veronica hurried across the breezeway, stomping and muttering to herself.
“Friends pulling guns on friends.” She shook her head and bit her lip.
When had their close-knit group gone so mad? She understood loss, she understood the stages of grief; those things were all too familiar to her. When her mother had died, she remembered her father pulling away into silence and solitude for the briefest of times; he knew he had children to care for. Then the night in Franklin Woods, Samson lost himself in a bottle and threw a drunken fit in darkness, but he knew he needed to pull it together. Her mind wandered back to when she had lost her father and then her brother, just days apart. She’d done what she’d needed to do to survive and keep herself safe. She’d done even more than she needed to for a group of strangers that had grown to become her new family. There wasn’t any time for grieving in this new world. Andrew’s violent outburst had shocked her, even scared her a little. She could understand that he felt like he needed someone to blame, but she could not understand drawing a weapon or hitting Catherine the way he did.
She slowed as she approached the double doors to the central building and pulled her set of keys out. She tugged the handle and the door came gently toward her. She shrugged and chalked it up to Michelle being careless and forgetting to lock the door again. Making her way toward the staircase, she cocked her head and listened. She couldn’t quite make out the noises, but they were most definitely the muffled shrieks and cries of the dead. She knew where they were kept, and she ran this building almost every day. She’d never heard them all riled up like this, though.
Curiosity got the better of her and she abandoned her mission of finding her own private condo to investigate the source of the commotion. As Veronica approached the next set of double doors on the opposite side of the long hall, she could see that one of the doors hadn’t been pulled shut all the way. She crept up to the glass and peered through. Michelle was at the far end of the breezeway leading to the east building. She was stretched out on the floor, propped up on her elbows with a messy stack of papers beside her. A bottle of Malibu was within arm’s reach and Veronica could hear her talking to herself. Slipping through the doorway, Veronica silently made her way toward the woman, studying her movements.
Is she drawing them?
Veronica furrowed her brow as she realized Michelle was giggling to herself and telling the eaters beyond the breezeway to be still. As she got closer, Veronica could see the stack of papers had been ripped from a sketch book.
“You still haven’t mastered the art of stealth, Nancy Drew,” Michelle called out.
Veronica’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink but she breathed a sigh of relief; she hated creeping around. Evidently, she was no good at it.
“Have a seat,” Michelle said, rolling to her side and looking up at the blushing teen. “Looking for an art lesson?”
Veronica shook her head as she lowered herself to the dusty carpet. “How could you even hear me over all that noise?” Veronica motioned toward the rambunctious eaters beyond the glass doors.
“I didn’t.” Michelle laughed, clearly intoxicated. She pointed at the glass doors and chuckled again. “I saw your reflection.” She sat up and exhaled loudly, pulling her wild hair up and tying it into a messy bun. Reaching for the bottle of rum she unscrewed the cap and offered some to Veronica.
Veronica scrunched her face up and she stared at the bottle. “What’s it taste like?”
“Awful. I don’t care much for the sugary stuff, but I’m running low on the good shit.” Michelle took a swig from the bottle and once more extended her arm. “Here, try it.”
“Alright.” Veronica quickly took the bottle from Michelle and raised it to her nose. It didn’t smell bad; in fact, it smelled sweet, like coconuts. She took a drink and coughed hard, spitting the clear liquid out onto Michelle.
Michelle laughed hard, wiping the rum from her face. “That first drink is always the worst. Go ahead,” she said, waving her hand at Veronica. “Try again but a little slower this time.”
Veronica’s second drink went more smoothly. The warm liquor burned her throat, she could feel it as it went all the way down to her stomach. She grimaced but took another sip before handing the white bottle back to Michelle. Her mouth felt like it was on fire, but at the same time, her mind instantly felt at ease. She could see why Michelle liked to disappear on her own and drink herself stupid. It was yet another person’s way of dealing with the sick world’s burdens of grief.
“So what brings you to my neck of the woods, again?” Michelle sat the bottle in front of Veronica and stretched herself out on her side, her head resting in her hand.
Veronica told Michelle about Andrew’s outburst as she took another sip of Malibu. “I just needed to get out of there. Even if I had gone to my room, someone would have known where to find me.”
“They sure wouldn’t think to look for you over here with me. Good thinkin’ kid.” Michelle noticed Veronica roll her eyes and she grinned at the teenager. “Sorry, sorry, you’re not a kid.”
Veronica ignored her apology. “I didn’t know y
ou were an artist.”
“I’m not, it’s just a hobby. I probably could have been an artist at some point, but then again, I probably could have been a lot of things.” Michelle’s voice seemed sad.
“What did you want to be?” Veronica reached out and grabbed the bottle, taking a quick sip. Michelle smiled at her and sat up, taking the bottle.
“I wanted to be anything but myself, I guess.” She turned the bottle up again. “But I was brought up to believe that I was a nobody.”
“What do you mean?” Veronica raised an eyebrow.
Michelle waved a hand at her, “My father was a piece of shit. I guess I never got over it.”
Veronica thought about her last statement as she took another drink. She set the bottle down again and twisted her hair in her hand. “My father was a good man.”
Michelle lay back down, hands behind her head. “Yeah, well, we can’t all have perfect lives, can we, Nancy Drew?”
The pair sat silently in the breezeway, listening to the mesmerizing moans of the dead.
“So why are you hanging out with them?” Veronica asked, breaking the silence. She looked up at the eaters to her left. They were badly decayed and even more grotesque than she remembered. Their skin was slimy and yellow, black liquid oozed from nearly every visible orifice and crusted at the corners of their eyes, ears, noses, and mouths. Broken and rotted teeth gnashed and bit at the filthy glass, their mangled fingers clawing and grabbing fruitlessly. Howls and growls escaped their festering mouths and Veronica almost felt sorry for them.
“Why not?” Michelle answered with a swallow of liquor and a belch. “Who’s doing who more harm right now? These guys, or those friends of yours up there?” She raised an eyebrow at Veronica, almost challenging her. “These guys listen to me. They’re the perfect drinking buddies. They don’t talk back or smart mouth me. If I say jump, they ask how high.” She began to giggle again, rolling back over onto her side.
