Reverend Mathis
We finally pulled the caravan off the road after what must have been fifty miles. Two of the trucks were dangerously low on gas. We had several cans in the back of the van but the idea was to see if more could be scouted before dipping into our reserves. We pulled into the woods down what looked like an old logging road. We felt that it would be unlikely that we would run into the dead out here, but a lack of vigilance may be what put us in this position in the first place.
I decided not to argue with Daniel over the radio, to wait instead until we could discuss things in private. The group had been through enough and to see those they had chosen as their leadership at odds with each other wouldn’t do anyone any good. Suffice to say, the moment Daniel and I are alone, I may very well… I cannot pretend that I would pose any physical threat to Daniel. He is far better at violence than I am, but if the opportunity were to present itself, I am not entirely certain that I would not take advantage of it. Perhaps if he were to turn his back, I could get the drop on him.
How could things have gone so wrong, so quickly? So many dead, so much lost, and for what? Daniel’s little power play lead an entire army of those things back to us. We would have been fine if he hadn’t chosen to be so rebellious. We had an agreement! I told him it was too risky. I have not felt this kind of anger toward another human being in a very long time. I want to wrap my hands around his throat and crush the life out of him. Not very Christian, I admit, but his mistake is inexcusable. Perhaps I should avoid speaking to him until we reach our ultimate destination lest my anger get the better of me and we end up in a physical altercation. I imagine this would be even worse for morale than for the Townies to see us arguing.
Can we even call ourselves the Townies anymore? Our town is gone. If I close my eyes I can see those things wandering the streets still feasting on the bodies of our fallen brothers and sisters.
I cannot even begin to think about what this may do to Max. To be so young and to have been through so much already… He is truly a special child to be so strong, but still, all this must take a toll on him. How much more can he possibly take? How much more can any of us take?
Daniel
That bastard is lucky I didn’t fucking kill him. I sat fuming in the back of the pickup waiting for the Rev to come out of the van. We gassed up the vehicles and regrouped as best we could. The townies were understandably shitting themselves. A lot of questions going around. Where were we going? How would we get there? Did so-and-so make it out alive? People counted their losses and mourned the dead right there in the woods.
I passed out some water and some rations, tried as best I could to console people and to tell them how proud I was that they fought as well as they did, not that it mattered. We lost. I took stock of what and who had made it out. Three vans, two pickups, a Jeep, and the delivery truck. That last one held most of our bug out supplies so at least there was that. Still no sign of the Rev. I half hoped that he hadn’t gotten out, but I heard him talking to the driver of the pickup over the radio on the way here. Sniveling, weak-assed little pansy probably didn’t have the balls to face these people after what happened. That’s okay. He would have to come out eventually. And when he did, I would be on him.
We had a decent amount of ammo and plenty of weapons, rifles, handguns, a few shotguns even, but we were out in the open now. Vulnerable on all sides, and not just exposed to the dead. I wouldn’t have been surprised if we ran into my old Army unit and got ourselves robbed and/or killed by that shithead captain of mine. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the ass. Aside from them there must be hundreds of other assholes running around out here that we have to worry about.
We had enough food for at least a few days, maybe a week if we stretched it out. Water was going to be a problem real quick though. All totaled about twenty-five people made it out of the town, ten men, eight women, and seven kids, eight counting Max, but I wouldn’t count him as a kid. Then there’s me and the Rev, but I wouldn’t count him in with the men either.
So I was moving through the ranks, consoling some of the guys, congratulating others when I saw him. The Rev had finally crawled out of the van he was hiding in and was talking to one of the younger couples. As I didn’t see their kid with them and the girl was crying pretty hard, I figured out what they were talking about pretty quick. I waited for him to move away from them and soon as he got to his feet, I charged.
I screamed at the top of my lungs just before I tackled him to the ground, all the anger that had been building for months just sort of gushed out. We hit the ground with a flat thud and before he knew what was going on, I was pounding my fists into his fucking face. He tried to push me off, then he tried to cover up. I heard gasps and a few screams behind me but I didn’t care.
“THIS WAS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT,” I screamed as I pounded away on his ribs and face. “ARE YOU HAPPY NOW!?!?”
I hit him a few more times and rolled off onto my back panting and, I think, crying a little. I heard his gurgling breaths so I knew I hadn’t killed him. Lucky bastard. The people around us just kind of stood there stunned, slack-jawed and staring.
I got to my knees and started getting my feet under me when out of nowhere Max spear tackled me from behind. I face-planted in the dirt and felt my nose break from the impact. Max was on my back wailing away with his tiny, ineffective fists. I bucked him off, rolled over, and leaped up. He ran at me, but I grabbed his arms and pinned them to his sides.
“What did you do to him!?” Max screamed and spit in my face and tried to get free.
I wasn’t until I saw the look on his face that I felt any regret for what I did. Maybe I went too far. Maybe I should have just waited until my head cooled a little. Maybe I should have just hit him once or twice and been done with it. Fuck it, too late now. I shoved Max a little too hard and he skidded on his ass in the dirt. I started to mouth some kind of half-assed apology, but nothing came out. Max just sat there staring at me.
I turned and stumbled back to the pickup. I could barely see, between the broken nose and the look on Max’s face I couldn’t clear the tears from my eyes. I grabbed a rag out of the tool box in the truck and tried to wipe the blood off my face and hands. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Max get up and go over to the Rev, who was at least sitting up, a crowd had gathered around him and were giving him water. Nobody would even look in my direction.
Max and the Rev talked something over, then the Rev patted Max on the shoulder and hugged him. Max got up and walked into the crowd. That was the last time I ever saw him.
Jessica
Struggling to breathe I was suffocating. Trapped under a tree with the water rushing around me I fought against the current with all my strength, but it was a losing battle. If I couldn’t pull myself out from under the branches I was going to die. How’s that for irony? I am immune to whatever is killing everyone else, but I am going to die just the same.
Last I saw Tim was trapped in a fight for his life. We had left the duck blind a few days ago because we ran out of calm water. Walking along the river left us exposed. We did our best to avoid the dead, we were armed, but not well enough to take on a large group. For days our plan was working, but we stumbled on a group of at least twenty dead. They spotted us before we had a chance hide, and to be honest we were so tired from traveling our reaction was less than ideal.
Tim pushed me behind him. I don’t know what I did to deserve a guardian angel, but Tim was mine. Ever since we left the island I have felt protected, watched over. Yet again, he put my safety before his. He motioned for me to double back. I wasn’t going to argue. He had the only gun, and my sharped stick wasn’t going to hold up against a large group of dead. I made the mistake of looking back one more time to see how Tim was holding up against the horde, and I tripped over a root on the shoreline.
The water was frigid. Immediately the wind was knocked out of my lungs, and I had forgotten the dead that were on the shore. From the moment my body hit that water I was thras
hing through the water in hopes to feel dry land. I was too weak to swim in calm water, and this river was anything but calm. My body bounced off of logs, and rocks. Each blow left me more battered. The culmination of this river ride was a one way trip under a downed tree. I became tangled in the branches and fought for each breath.
My face kept slipping under water. Drowning is a horrible way to die. There is nothing peaceful about your lungs filling up with water. Your body wants to live, but you are growing more tired with each passing moment. I tried to calm down. So many times you hear survival experts say that panic will kill you. I stopped thrashing around. The current was still washing over me, but I could predict when my face would be under water. This allowed me to take small breaths in between those moments.
Once I knew I could get air, even though it was small, unsatisfying breaths, I could focus on removing my legs from their trap. Slowly I pulled at them, but only one would come free. I realized that the other was held in place by my shoe. If I could just take off the sneaker, I would be free. I only had one chance. The sneaker was too tight to slip off. Drawing in as much air as I could I plunged under the surface. The cold had numbed my fingers, the murky orange water made my eyes useless.
Each second that passed felt like it would be my last, and panic was beginning to creep back in. Suddenly, my foot was released. I grabbed for the tree, but the current was too fast, and I was too tired. My head broke the surface, and I was able to draw in a beautiful, full breath. A log was coming at me at lightning speed, though if you think about it, I was going at the log at lightning speed. It was stationary, and I was not. Smashing into it I used what little power I had and wrapped my arms around it.
Amazingly, the log was on the river’s edge. Motivated by the chance to live, I managed to pull myself up the log and onto the shore. I had no idea how far I had traveled, or if Tim was still alive. What I did know was that I needed to get moving. If I lay down now I may never get back up. The temptation to sleep was calling me, like a drug to an addict. Just like the drug, sleep would be the death of me. So, I fought the urge and limped slowly upstream. I had no weapons, no supplies, and no left shoe. I needed to find Tim.
The sky was lit up like a painting at sunset. Oranges, reds, and purples were spread out along the horizon. What should have been viewed with wonder, was seen with dread. I knew it wouldn’t be long before it was dark, and my good friend panic would be back. I kept hoping I would see something familiar, but it was all the same. Trees, dirt, and rocks as far as the eyes can see. I followed the river’s edge like a shadow follows his man. One foot in front of another, I trudged along trying to ignore the cold, and pains of hunger. I wondered if this was what they felt like.
Did they feel at all? Were they wandering through the woods cold, tired, and hungry? Was that why they needed to feed all the time? They were never full. For a moment I thought I had died and become one of them without knowing it happened. Maybe I had drowned. I guess I would know when I saw a live person. If I attacked then there was my answer. I had to find Tim. He would tell me what to do.
Muddy white sneakers lay at the end of a pair of legs that stretched out from behind a tree. I approached them with caution, the whole time praying I was wrong. There wasn’t much left of the rest of the body. His face was missing, but I knew this man. I also knew I was screwed. I lay down beside him on the forest floor. Wrapping my arms around his cold, blood soaked body I began to cry. For the first time since he rescued me I didn’t feel protected. As I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep I prayed again, but this time it was a prayer to never wake up.
Test Subject 63-04
“My name is Ian. What’s yours?”
No response, just that blank, quizzical stare. I could tell he wasn’t dead. The dead ones don’t look at you like they’re trying to figure you out, just figuring out how to get a hold of you. This one was half-hiding behind an overturned candy rack. I almost didn’t spot him. When I did, the first thought in my head was to pretend like I didn’t. Just keep moving. I was making good time, no sense in slowing myself down trying to put together an entourage.
Then I distinctly heard my mother’s voice damning me to hell for all time if I didn’t stop and see if I couldn’t help the boy. He wasn’t a boy, had to be at least twenty, but something in his face made me think of him that way.
So there I stood trying to get him to at least come out from behind the shelves.
“Are you hurt? Are you hungry? Are you alone?”
He didn’t even blink just stared at me not quite making eye contact but keeping me in the center of his field of vision. I couldn’t stand here all day. I only saw a few of those things outside when I ducked in, but were there are a few, there are a few more.
“Okay kid, I’m going to load this bag with some chocolate bars, you know, kind of round out my stash, and then I’m going to take off. If you feel like talking, now is the time.”
Nada. Almost like he figured if he ignored me long enough I would disappear. Which is exactly what was going to happen.
I went about grabbing a few candy bars, some smashed up fruit pies, and some more bottles of water. I was squatting over a pile of snack cakes digging around for some of those coconut cupcake things when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I dropped my shit, rolled forward over one knee and came around with my pistol expecting to see a corpse with his claws out. It was the kid. Jeez-us, how the hell did he sneak up on me??
He didn’t even flinch at the .45 leveled at his forehead.
“You’re fast.” That’s all he said. In this even, matter-of-fact tone, like he was telling me it was going to rain.
“And you’re sneaky,” I replied trying to match his tone even though my heart was about to jump out of my throat.
“You have to be,” then in a creepy, low whisper, “When they see you, they try to grab you, then they try to bite you. That is very rude. Father said I should never be rude.”
A fucking soliloquy from a kid who two minutes ago wouldn’t say ‘shit’ if he stepped in a pile of it.
I resumed the task of procuring my damned cupcakes while the kid rattled on about how he was going to his grandmother’s house because his mother and father were both dead. It was more than a little creepy hearing somebody regale me with the gruesome details of how his mother had been half eaten, then shoots herself, then the dad kills himself, with absolutely zero emotion. Something was seriously fucked up about this kid. I guess it was just shock or post-traumatic stress or some shit. Couldn’t say I blame him.
“You want to tell me your name?” I asked.
“My name is William. And your name is Ian. You told me before when I was hiding from you.”
“So where’s Grandma’s house Will?”
“William. I do not like to be called Will, or Bill, or Willy, or Billy.”
“Sorry, William. So where’s Grandma’s house. Maybe I can help you find it.”
“I know where it is. Mother used to drive us there and I am very observant. I will go north on Main street until I see the high school, then I will go west until I see the apple farm, then I will go north again, this is route 15. Only cars can go on route 15, but if I stay to the side I will be okay. On route 15, I will go north until I get to exit…”
“Okay, okay kid. I get it, you know where you’re going. How about I tag along, I’m headed in the same direction, roughly speaking.”
“I would like a Mars bar first. I haven’t found one here yet.”
“Well today is your lucky day William. I just happen to have four of them in my bag.”
He smiled at that, a real smile, content and happy, like the whole world wasn’t floating in the shitter, just couldn’t be, because he was going to get his Mars bar. At that moment, I envied the fuck out of this kid.
That all changed when he realized that I meant the bag was out in the Jeep. His face went blank again and he just stood there shaking his head.
“Father says I must never get into a car with a strange ma
n.”
“We aren’t strangers kid. We’re old friends, you and me. William and Ian, like out of some old western. We roll into town, scoop up all the Mars bars, maybe a pretty lady or two and then ride off into the sunset,” I said, trying to motion him toward the door. I didn’t know how much longer we could stay here before one of the dead noticed us hanging out and started trying to get in. And I still needed to get some gas in the Jeep before we rolled out. “I’m not going to hurt you William. I want to help you get to grandma’s house.” It sounded stupid when I said it out loud.
“Father says I must never get into a car with someone I do not know unless they know the password. Do you know the password?”
“Shit, kid. I don’t have a fucking idea what the password is, but we don’t have a whole lot of time to stand around here playing getting-to-know-you games. We have got to roll. Please. Come with me.”
Back to square one again. That same empty eyed stare. It was different this time though, I could tell he was working things out in his head, turning the idea over. It looked like it was taking an effort though.
“Do you promise that you are not a bad person?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely. I was an Eagle Scout you know.”
He stood there for another minute, grinding the thought down until he could get his head around it. Then all of the sudden he nods, walks over behind a counter and grabs a Ninja Turtles backpack and head for the door.
“You shouldn’t swear so much. Father says it is not proper.” And out the door he goes.
I followed him out, scanning for corpses. Two of them were dragging their way up the street in the opposite direction, one I had seen earlier, the other was new. I threw our bags in the back of the Jeep and opened the door for William. He hesitated just a second before climbing in and asking for his Mars bar.
Aftershock: A Collection of Survivors Tales Page 17
