Roxanne's Story (Book 1): Survival in the Zombie Apocalypse

by Diane Butler

  “Jesus, Lucky!” Brandon yelled out.

  Lucky holstered his gun and answered, “It was best that he didn’t know when it was coming.”

  “Well you could at least have let us step away,” Brandon said, “given us a signal or something.”

  “There are zombies coming out of the forest,” Lucky said. “We haven’t much time. We can’t wait for Gene any longer. We need to get our gear and cross the highway into the corn field over there. We need to get out of sight before the zombies see us and follow. Come on,” he turned to the barn door where he had dropped Randy’s equipment.

  Roxanne and Brandon looked at each other and then back at Randy’s body, both still in a state of shock. “Now!” Lucky yelled. “Move it!” They came out of the barn to pick up the gear and Lucky closed the doors, putting the wood beam across the handles in hopes of keeping the zombies out.

  As they walked toward the front porch to gather the rest of their belongings Lucky gave them his plans. “The Ze’s were coming from the North and East. That means we go west and try to stay between Knoxville and Chattanooga. If it gets bad we may need to turn south into Georgia.”

  They picked up their gear and knew it was too much and too heavy to make good time with so much strapped on their back. They walked down the dirt driveway and crossed the highway into another corn patch that sucked oxygen out of the air, the sun already hot on their heads.

  No one spoke of what had just happened but Roxanne briefly looked down the highway once more hoping to see Gene before she left the road and entered the unknown future.

  CHAPTER 7

  They concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other without purpose of direction taking the path of least resistance. Their clothes were torn and ragged, caked in dried mud from the last bog they had crossed. They smelled of the swamp but would not wash again until the next rain. They did not have plans or a destination or a purpose except for food. They had eaten squirrel, rabbits, snake, muskrat and even rats that had accumulated in an abandoned warehouse. Their eyes were void of any emotion; love, hate, hope or thoughts of the past or future. They did not know where they were nor did they care. They did not speak except for the woman who would whisper to her dog at night when she held him.

  Mutt knew that he would need to leave them soon since he could provide for himself better than they could provide for him. He knew they were hungry as he was and so had not begged needlessly. He had watched his master deteriorate and knew that if he stayed much longer that he would be watching her die. They sat down to rest and Mutt put his head on Roxanne’s knee. She sighed and tenderly put her hand on the dog’s head. “Good boy,” she whispered.

  Lucky looked up to see the two of them together and thought that if he had just one bullet left that he would kill himself with it. Roxanne was now a shell of her former self, as they all were and yet it was Roxanne who was keeping them alive with her crossbow. Everyone had deep cuts and scratches that would not heal due to malnutrition and were now beginning to develop oozing sores. Mutts coat was tangled, matted with burrs, small twigs and leaves when he had once been so regal. It appeared that the world was devoid of food, any kind and all kinds of food except for the wild. They ran out of ammo only three weeks after leaving The Park and it was Roxanne’s improving skill with the crossbow that was keeping them fed with what little animals they came across. But still, meals were few and far between.

  Lucky hated seeing them like this and took it as a failure on his part. It was his plan that everyone had followed and for once Roxanne had let him take control. As the weeks, months passed she started saying less and less never interjecting a comment, suggestion or formulating a plan. There was nothing in her eyes anymore. She had gone somewhere far, far away in her mind after he started using her as bait when they came across a small group of men. The strategy had been successful at first until hunger caused them to miscalculate the number of men unseen in the forest. In the end it had been Mutt who had saved Roxanne from the final act of rape while he and Brandon were frozen, unable to come up with a backup plan.

  Brandon had fallen into the same routine as Roxanne. When Lucky stood up, they did. When Lucky walked they followed him. The only time they left him alone was when they entered a home or store looking for food then they would separate and trash the place in desperation like teenagers on crack. If a zombie came into the room someone would eventually kill it while the others continued searching, ignoring the commotion behind them.

  They no longer touched and had long ago ceased being lovers since their life of trying to exist did not allow for it. Roxanne slept with Mutt by her side and sometimes when Lucky saw her run her hands over the dog he remembered how they had once caressed him. His heart ached seeing her like this so he had taught himself not to see her at all. He imagined her as just his own shadow following behind him and any food she caught was something that had dropped from heaven.

  He stood up, which was an effort in itself and knew that Roxanne must be weaker than he but it was best to keep moving. Toward what and where was unknown but if you kept moving you could avoid the memories of better times. Brandon and Roxanne also stood up, Roxanne using the tree trunk and her staff to help support her. The black paint on the staff was now chipped and peeling, the end no longer sharp nor serving its original purpose. But it was a thing from the past that she had not discarded yet and hung on to.

  They had been walking for some time when Brandon passed Roxanne on the trail. He usually stayed behind her but this time he was keeping his head down to watch his footing since lately he seemed to trip over the smallest vine or branch in his path. He continued on when a memory tried to seep into his brain, a memory of importance, of long ago, a memory about Roxanne. No, no it wasn’t Roxanne it was something someone said about her. Who? Caleb, yes that was it. What was it he had said? Something along the lines of she seems to hear things before others do. Brandon suddenly stopped and looked back.

  Roxanne was looking off into the distance, downhill and away from them. Mutt was not alert, in fact was standing there looking at her questionably. She did not have her crossbow at ready so she didn’t see a squirrel. Brandon looked downhill but did not see anything. When he saw Roxanne turn to her left and walk away from them he turned back to Lucky and gave out a whistle. It was a soft, weak whistle, but it attracted Lucky’s attention although he had advanced far ahead of them. When Lucky looked back Brandon pointed at Roxanne who was disappearing into the timber below them. After Lucky came back to join him they waited for a short time then,without speaking, they began to follow in Roxanne’s direction.

  It took them awhile before they picked up the sound of water lapping against a bank. And another sound, one that Brandon associated with a Marina as a boat hit against a wooden wharf. They broke through the timber to see that a riverboat had broken its lines and had drifted into an old rotten wharf that was not designed to hold such a large vessel. Roxanne was already boarding it. They saw her search the deck for something and then she put a board across to the wharf so Mutt could cross over. She turned and without looking back they both disappeared below deck.

  Roxanne went straight to the galley and saw that the cupboards were open and canned goods were rolling around on the floor. This vessel had been tossed around on the river quite a few times to cause the latches to break open on the cabinets. She picked up a can of corned beef and opened it with the key attached. She dumped it out on the floor for Mutt to eat but he looked up at her with a soft ‘woof’. Roxanne reached down and took a handful of the hash and stuffed it into her mouth. Only then would Mutt eat, satisfied that she was sharing and not sacrificing. She began putting cans of food into her duffle bag and then opened the refrigerator to find bottles of water. She found a cup that hadn’t been broken and poured Mutt half of the water and had drank the other half when Brandon and Lucky walked in. She grabbed a bag of stale Dorito’s and left the room to explore more of the boat.

  It wasn’t a large riverboat and appear
ed to be designed for small parties of poker games. The chairs in the poker room were overturned and thrown about but the tables were bolted to the floor and remained in place. She looked behind the bar and found an overturned bottle of Kahlua that hadn’t been opened and took that with her, tucking it under her arm as she ate the Doritos and walked around. She could hear the men in the galley opening and slamming cupboard doors so she walked out on the deck and began to circle the boat.

  The boat was tilted only slightly having run aground in shallow water at the wharf. She enjoyed listening to the water lapping up against the hull as she shared her Doritos with Mutt. Since she had never been on a boat before each door she opened was an adventure to her. One door opened onto a hallway with two doors on each side. She finished her Doritos and propped her duffle bag against the door because the hallway was dim without sunlight penetrating into the area and she did not want to be trapped in a small space where she could not fight.

  She told Mutt to stay, laid the bottle of Kahlua on top of her duffle bag, took her knife in one hand and the axe in the other and slowly proceeded down the hallway. Two of the rooms consisted of bunk beds, perhaps for the staff; the other two rooms had full size beds with a dresser and sink. She did not bother searching any of them since her stomach was trying to reject what it had not received in so long. She had learned that if she hadn’t eaten for several days that the next food she consumed must be eaten slowly or her stomach would try to throw it back at her. It could not digest a large amount at once after not having any for so long.

  She went back to get her duffle bag and used an old shirt to tie the door back to allow circulation in the hall. She motioned Mutt to her and went back to one of the rooms with the bunks, throwing her bag against that door to hold it open. She kicked at the bunk then pounded on the pillow and mattress to make sure mice had not taken up residence then sat down and opened the bottle of Kahlua. She took a swallow and shook her head at the thickness of it. Then she quickly drank one fourth of the bottle and laid back. Mutt came over and lay down on the floor next to the bunk facing the door in case anyone should come in.

  The sun was starting to set when Lucky saw the door tied open with one of Roxanne’s old shirts. The hallway was dark by then and he could not see the doors on each side. He did not know where the hall led to or how far it extended but he knew that Roxanne had entered through here. He lit a kerosene lamp that he had found onboard, drew his knife and slowly entered taking one step at a time. As he proceeded he saw another door that was held open with her duffle bag and cautiously peered inside while holding the lamp high.

  Mutt saw him and sat up with a soft “woof.” Lucky would have liked to take the upper bunk but Mutt had not been as friendly toward him of late. And besides, he didn’t think he had the strength to climb up there anyway. But he stood there watching Roxanne not having seen her sleep so soundly in a long time. Then he noticed the bottle of booze dangling from her hand, clutching it like she clutched her knife when she slept. Her other arm was thrown over her face and her legs were not on the bed. He stepped forward with the intention of lifting her legs onto the bed, but Mutt stood up and took a step toward him. He did not growl but Lucky felt that it was only out of respect for the past and not for the present. Lucky backed out of the room and decided that he would sleep in the poker room where he had windows and wouldn’t feel so boxed in. Roxanne’s choice of room did not have a porthole or any means of escape. He worried that Roxanne was starting to lose her edge and was getting sloppy.

  Roxanne woke with a sudden jerk out of a dream or nightmare and hit her head on the bunk above her. She put her hand to her head and looked around, feeling for her knife and realized that it was still in its sheath. “What in the world….?” It was dark and she hadn’t remembered to bring candles with her but she heard a soft “woof” and knew that Mutt was there with her. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she saw a faint light that outlined her doorway and knew that she was in a small room. Then she remembered the boat. She got up and walked to the doorway and saw that it was dawn and the sun was rising. She could see enough light now to go out onto the deck and walk over to the wharf side of the boat.

  Roxanne stood looking at the water as the sun rose behind her and knew that she was facing west. The birds started chirping to join the sounds of crickets and frogs. Mutt appeared at her feet and nudged her. “You need to do your business Mutt? Just jump over to the wharf and go back to shore.” Mutt whined and nudged the plank at Roxanne’s feet with his nose. “It’s a simple jump Mutt.” Then the sunlight moved around to where she could see Mutt’s face and his pleading eyes. “Oh…..oh, poor baby.” She picked up the plank and slid it across to the wharf. “Poor sweetheart, you’re just as weak as I am.”

  She watched him cross the plank and trot toward shore and suddenly the horror of it all hit her. She put her hand to her mouth trying to hold off the cries and tears but knew she would not be successful this time. As she continued to watch Mutt she thought of all the dangers they had faced during the last months and Mutt had always been there to fight with them. She thought of the people who they did not help, people who they stole from, the constant cries of people facing death and the continuous zombie moans that haunted them.

  She didn’t have a group to protect anymore; knew that both Brandon and Lucky could take care of themselves and all she had to do was to take care of a dog and had been a failure at it. She was devastated by what they had become. They were of less stature than Mutt, scratching in the dirt for worms, eating wild mushrooms not knowing if they were poisonous but too hungry to care if it killed them. Ransacking homes like an animal that had been caught in a trap and has panicked.

  When Brandon stepped out of the casino he saw Roxanne standing with bowed head and her hands covering her face, her shoulders were shaking and he knew she was crying. He looked up to see Mutt on the banks following the scent of something that interested him. Brandon had never seen Roxanne cry but he wasn’t surprised that it took a dog to break her. He walked up and took her in his arms and held her close to him. He wrapped his arms as tight as possible in case she tried to brave it out on her own and attempted to pull away from him. But Roxanne didn’t resist, instead her cries became harder and she put her head against his shoulder.

  “It’s a good place, Roxanne. It’ll get better,” but her cries turned into sobs which had her whole body shaking and he did not know if it was an attempt to control the sobs or from the emotion of letting them out. Her knees started to buckle so he went down on his knees with her still keeping her in a gridlock within his arms. Finally he loosened his hold turning it into one of tenderness and put a hand to her head. “It’s a good place, Roxanne,” he said again. “I can feel a difference here on this boat and you led us to it. You felt it too. It called to you.”

  She started to calm after that. He waited until she let out a big sigh and gently pushed herself away from him. She smiled at him, a rarity these days and said, “Yes, it did, didn’t’ it? Perhaps you are right. Perhaps our luck is changing.” She looked out at the water, “Perhaps the blackness will leave our hearts here” she whispered.

  Unknown to them Lucky had been standing at the patio doors watching and had overheard the conversation. He had never seen Roxanne like that, had never seen her cry except for teardrops of passion. This had been a breakdown, a complete destruction of the past months and a rebuilding again, right before his eyes. He felt that it had been his fault that he hadn’t planned better, hadn’t protected her better, hadn’t provided better and had made decisions that went against her morals. He had misjudged her strength to cope after seeing the methods in which she had killed KC and Ed. He thought that she had hardened to death, could easily inflict death upon others and as a result of his miscalculation he had asked too much of her, expected too much of her while on their journey. He had once met a beautiful woman capable of providing for herself, making her own decisions, fighting her own battles and he had reduced her to a meltdown. He c
ouldn’t stand to watch anymore and quietly stepped back into the shadows.

  Brandon and Roxanne stood at the railing looking out over the water. “Is this the Tennessee or the Mississippi?” Roxanne asked.

  “Don’t think we’re on a river; think it’s a channel to one of them though.”

  “Do you know anything about boats? I’ve never been on one?”

  “Not really. Had a boss once who owned a houseboat and would invite employees and their families sometimes. He let me pilot it for a short time.”

  “Families?” Roxanne turned to him. She had never heard him speak of one and had never asked. In the past she had never wanted to know anyone’s story because it always ended in death. Everyone was on the road because of death and destruction and the stories were always the same.

  Brandon looked down and was quiet, then softly said, “Let’s not go there, Roxanne.” Roxanne turned and looked back toward the wharf. “Wish Mutt would return.”