Buried Sins

by Bolton, Karice

  “No way. I’m not—”

  The glass shattered, interrupting my objection. The shards of glass crumbled down the door and into Gavin’s lap. Several mismatched arms shoved their hands through the nonexistent barrier, reaching for Gavin as I let out a scream and lunged with the knife in hand.

  “Don’t watch what happens, babe. Promise me you’ll look away,” his voice pleading, as he struggled against the fleshy fingers that twisted and pulled at his shirt.

  I reached across Gavin and began breaking off fingers and slicing hands and anything I could connect with that was attempting to gouge at Gavin. Pieces of flesh tumbled into the car.

  We’d been vaccinated.

  We’d be okay.

  The stench of the decaying flesh filled our small car with every crack of a bone and tear of the skin. Gavin and I were shoving the arms, bodies, and heads back the other direction, but they kept pushing through the small driver’s window. Gavin grabbed the bat, shoving and poking the zombies through the window. The space was so small it was hard for him to hit with any force.

  It wouldn’t be long before they broke the other windows. The first thump on the roof made me jump and then the second. The metal was crunching with every step above, and I looked up to see the roof dipping in places.

  The moans grew louder as more arms pushed through the opening, scraping and digging at our flesh. Fingers with calloused skin grazed my face, poking at my eyes and scraping my cheeks, but they would fall from my face almost instantly in search of Gavin. Why Gavin?

  Gavin propelled the bat into the crowd with such velocity that he managed to run it through the stomach of one of the beasts, spreading the group out momentarily. The zombie collapsed, but the swarm returned, descending on us again.

  I jabbed the knife directly into the neck of the most insistent intruder and pulled it out, severing the head from the neck. The head toppled into the car as the body slumped outside against the door. There was a brief hesitation as they stepped back, and I grabbed the ADD, removing the pin and flipping the lever. I threw the ADD out the window, but it bounced against an undead girl in the back of the crowd. It dropped to the ground with a thud. My heart sank with the realization the zombies wouldn’t be running anywhere.

  Broop-Broop-Broop

  Maybe I was wrong.

  Once the ADD sounded, the zombies peeled away from our car and turned toward the device, but there wasn’t enough distance to open the door or escape through the window. They’d get us in a heartbeat. The deafening sound made it hard to think. I watched as each zombie turned back toward the car and shoved their arms back at us. A set of hands latched onto Gavin’s neck, and I slashed clear through the zombie’s wrists—bone and all—, stopping only because the blade encountered the softness of Gavin’s throat.

  “They’re not going to stop until they get what they want,” he whispered, punching back at the beasts.

  The windshield began cracking from the weight of the bodies. The ADD siren stopped blaring, and I was almost completely positioned in Gavin’s lap, stabbing at anything and everything in the opening. Hands had broken through all of the windows. The passenger side window had arms flailing as bodies attempted to squeeze into the narrow opening.

  “I don’t know what to do.” My yell could only be heard as a whisper of desperation above the noise of the horde.

  “Becca, there’s some research in my folders from the campus…” his voice trailed off. His eyes began to cloud over, and I dropped my gaze. Dodging rotten, fleshy fingers and elbows, my hands ran protectively over his chest as I fought the undead. There was nowhere for us to hide.

  “Don’t start saying goodbyes,” I commanded, noticing blood on my fingertips, lots of blood. Where was this blood coming from? There was no pain beyond the scratches on my arms. I felt no pain. Elbowing the beasts, I looked at Gavin. His eyes on mine—locked on mine—as his lips curled up slightly.

  “What are the odds?” he whispered weakly.

  A cry wanted to escape my lips as I watched Gavin blink slowly. His breathing became shallower with each passing second. I searched feverishly, gliding my hands along his chest and stomach. My fingers fell into his wound.

  The zombies had torn through his shirt, through his abdomen. Blood was pooled on the seat, blood was everywhere, and I watched the hands of the undead still stirring and grabbing pieces of him. I swallowed my horror. A gasp wanted to escape my lips, but I was stronger than that. We were stronger than that.

  I continued slapping the hands away but none were after me. They only wanted Gavin.

  “I’ve loved you since your sixteenth birthday,” he murmured, closing his eyes.

  “No!” I screamed, grabbing him, attempting to move him from the window.

  But it was too late. Several arms had wrapped around Gavin’s neck and chest, hauling him through the window. I grabbed his body but he told me to let go. I couldn’t let go. I wouldn’t let go.

  My hands slid from his waist…to his thighs…to his knees…to his ankles. I was holding on so tightly, but it wasn’t enough. Only his feet were left inside the car, and I held on with a strength I didn’t recognize as my own. As they pulled the last of him out the window, I followed right through the opening, collapsing on the concrete driveway. None of them attempted to attack me beyond the accidental push or scrape. They weren’t after me.

  I watched in horror as the love of my life was torn to pieces and thrown about. Why didn’t they take me too? Why were they leaving me alone? My screams did nothing. I wasn’t sure I was even screaming. The zombies huddled together, and I forced my eyes away from what was left of my husband.

  “Please, kill me too,” I whimpered.

  Two unmarked, black vans came barreling down the street, stopping right at our driveway. The back doors flung open and the killers vanished inside. That wasn’t possible. I couldn’t trust my own eyes.

  I was hallucinating.

  The last of the undead stepped inside the vans, and the doors closed before the van peeled off.

  “Is there anyone out here? Can’t anyone help us? Please? Can’t someone help us?” I sobbed, crawling toward what was left of Gavin.

  I heard the screams of the neighbors as they ran toward us, stopping just short of our driveway. Their mouths dropped open, speechless. There was nothing anyone could do. The sobs and cries for help continued, and I didn’t know if they were coming from me or from everyone else. I was numb. I heard apologies about not coming out when they heard the ADD, but it wasn’t their fault. The ADDs were the equivalent of fireworks nowadays. Everything was in slow motion or people were moving slowly. I slumped over Gavin, holding the remains of his torso, listening to the ambulance siren make its way down our street. I wrapped my arms around him tightly for the last time.

  That’s what I remember from that day—and that I never told him I loved him.

  Chapter Two

  I unclipped the black leather holster from my jeans, unloaded the pistol and placed it in the locking drawer. Thankfully, peasant tops were in fashion now, and they hid the bulge beautifully when I was out and about. I grabbed the notebook that had the address of the bar I planned on visiting tonight and shoved it in a drawer. The place was a dive bar in the far end of town that might reveal what I was hoping to find, but I wouldn’t know until I checked it out. From all accounts online, it was a hotbed of underground activity and exactly how I might gain access into the unsavory side of society. All I wanted was answers but for some reason those were very hard to come by.

  I briefly let my mind wander to happier times. Looking around our basement, I thought back to how thrilled Gavin was when I told him I was totally fine with turning the space into a media room. He’d also managed to build a safe room inside.

  We’d only been married a matter of months, and it was an incredible time. I’d never let go of those memories.

  Ever.

  After surviving the outbreak, we knew exactly what we wanted, which was each other. Like most coll
ege students before the outbreak, we imagined our time would go on forever, and we’d get to everything at some point. After the outbreak, one of our many mottos was to never again waste another minute given to us, so we got married right after we got vaccinated.

  The leather recliners Gavin had chosen for the media room had been shoved against the far wall. After the outbreak had been contained, one of the main priorities of the government was to get commerce going again. With the large payouts that were disbursed to the remaining citizens, the government recognized there was money to be spent. And they wanted to ensure there was a place to spend it. Makeshift stores began popping up everywhere as manufacturing plants revved back up. Out of all the issues our country—and the world—faced, I found it odd that guaranteeing we had a place to buy furniture and electronics was a top priority. But I guess they felt we needed a sense of normalcy.

  I was willing to buy into that dream until Gavin was taken from me. We’d barely finished the remodel when it happened—when he was killed. There my mind went again, wandering back to Gavin.

  God, I missed him.

  Looking around the space now, it looked like some makeshift army command post with maps and photographs pinned to the walls.

  The doorbell rang through the house. It was time to play ‘let’s pretend’ with Abby, who was one of my many friends I’d managed to ignore since everything happened with Gavin. The world was supposed to be a safer place now, and there was an evolving sense of community if a person chose to participate.

  I did not.

  The epidemic had been stopped, or at least that’s what the general public was told. We were all vaccinated and to the government that was enough. Yet, here I was without my soul mate, hiding from my friends, and attempting to understand what happened.

  I locked the basement door behind me and did a double jiggle of the lock to ensure she didn’t accidentally wander down there. I was sure it would just be another bit of gossip that my friends would toss around for awhile before approaching me to perform an intervention. That was something I could really do without.

  “Hey,” my voice sang out as I flung open the front door. “So good to see you.”

  I hoped my acting skills were up to par.

  Abby sailed through the door and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. She was dressed in grey yoga pants and a navy sweatshirt. She had straightened her normally wavy, blonde hair, and she looked really nice and healthy. That was a look of progress I enjoyed seeing. Most of us had gone without for so long during the outbreak, a gaunt appearance was the norm.

  “Ready for dinner?” Abby asked, holding up two brown bags.

  “Sounds good to me,” I said, realizing I wasn’t even sure when I’d eaten last. “Let’s spread out in the family room.”

  “You look amazing, Becky,” she complimented me. My brown hair hit just below my shoulders, which helped to hide how skinny I’d become, or at least I hoped it did.

  “Thanks. You’re not looking so bad yourself,” I said.

  “It’s amazing what a constant food source can do for a person. I’m filling out again in all the right places.”

  “I’m sure Caleb is happy about that,” I laughed, following her down the hall toward the family room. I turned my eyes away from the wall where all of the photos of Gavin and me hung. After the outbreak, anywhere we went I made him take a picture of us. I was just so excited to be participating in life again—even our first trip to the grocery store was documented. I was grateful to have those photographs. Nevertheless, I usually avoided this route to the back of the house.

  The family room was one of the first rooms Gavin painted when we got back in my family’s house. A gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach crept up as I thought about that day, how much fun we had. I glanced around and saw the bright, cheery yellow walls. Back then it seemed fitting somehow… Now, not so much.

  Once I flipped on the lights, I noticed that every surface had a thick coating of dust. I never really came in here unless I was grabbing a book off one of the shelves.

  Oops!

  The ivory curtains were closed along with all of the drapes in my house. After seeing the dust on the furniture, I could only imagine what a good shake of the curtains would release.

  “What do you have to drink?” Abby dumped the bags on the coffee table, ignoring the tiny dust particles that floated around. That’s what good friends were for.

  “I’ve been specializing in beer, coffee, and more coffee.”

  “Sounds good and in that order.” She plopped on the couch and began looking around the room as I went to the kitchen to get our drinks.

  “Where’d all of your art books go?” she yelled from the family room.

  Shoot! I didn’t expect her to notice that.

  I grabbed a bottle opener and walked back to where I’d left Abby. She was staring at the farthest bookshelf, which now overflowed with books and manuals on weapons, surveillance techniques, tactical planning, and nano-technology. Nothing like what I used to enjoy reading, but these gave me a purpose. And to wake up every morning, I needed a purpose.

  “I put them all up in the attic. I can always pull them out when I need them,” I muttered, sitting next to her on the couch. I handed her a beer and the bottle opener, hoping to distract her enough to move on.

  “Kind of a sudden switch of interests,” she mused, raising a brow at me.

  “Meh.” I shrugged, taking a sip of the beer. I turned on the television, and she grabbed the remote from me and began channel surfing.

  “Not that I don’t trust your wonderful taste,” she said, before I could object.

  Okay, so the twenty-four-hour news channel wasn’t everyone’s idea of a good time, but I liked it.

  “What’s Caleb doing tonight?” I asked.

  “He’s at the library doing research for some paper.” She gave me a pouty face. “I think they should give us all a pass and an honorary degree for all we’ve been through.”

  “Ditto.”

  She took another chug of her beer, and I noticed a flicker of sadness in her eyes. Like everyone, her family wasn’t what it once was. We all managed to think we had put the savagery behind us, as if we could pile the grief somewhere. What we were all coming to realize was that sorrow couldn’t be ignored, and we could never predict when a piece from the pile would come tumbling down for others to witness.

  We ate our teriyaki, catching up on things about her and Caleb and our other mutual friends. Caleb and Abby were finally planning on getting married. I think Gavin’s death had something to do with the sudden change of plans for them. Previously, neither of them had any interest in marriage until after they finished school and started their careers. It was hard to think we might start living in a world with careers again. That seemed so far off.

  I melded into the rhythm of our conversation, answering some questions and dodging many more, as I attempted to suppress the restless energy that was beginning to fill me. I had a place to be in less than an hour and I didn’t want company.

  “You seem like you’re doing better. More focused,” she offered.

  “I’m beginning to see my purpose in the world again,” I confirmed, feeling the ghost of a smile surface on my lips. I didn’t really want to divulge what I thought that purpose was.

  “Hey, are you coming back to school?” she asked, folding her legs under her.

  “I don’t think so. Not yet.” I shook my head and glanced at the television.

  “I think Gavin would want you to keep going,” Abby said quietly.

  My stomach clenched as soon as I heard his name.

  “I’m going back. Just not yet. I’ve got some stuff I need to take care of,” I replied.

  Abby brought her beer to her lips and slowly sipped. I could tell she was going to start the lecture again. It was the one conversation I could count on with her whenever we got together. It also explained why I didn’t get together with her very often.

  She placed the bottle back do
wn on the table and I waited for it. Abby narrowed her eyes at me and took a deep breath in and exhaled.

  But she didn’t say anything.

  “So what classes did you sign up for?” I asked, hoping to dodge an unpleasant conversation.

  “Environmental Chem, an English Comp class, and Globalization in the Afterworld,” she said flatly. She was pissed. She didn’t even look at me when she answered.

  “The Afterworld? Is that what the academics are calling it now?” I shook my head. Gavin would’ve gotten a kick out of that. “Sounds like a heavy load.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and looked at the television.

  “I can’t even pretend to imagine what you went through,” Abby started.

  I turned and stared at Abby. Her blue eyes connected with mine. I arched a brow and leaned back on the couch waiting for what she really wanted to tell me. I knew all my friends were thinking it, but it was only Abby who had the balls to say anything to my face.

  “But you’ve gotta let go. Quit pursuing something that doesn’t exist,” she said.

  “So now you don’t believe me? What I saw?” I whispered, leaning over the table.

  “The other witnesses never saw any vans pull up, Becky. I just think with everything that you experienced, you may’ve thought you saw something like that, but…” her voice trailed off as her eyes filled with tears. She looked over at the bookcases and then looked back at me.

  That wasn’t like her usual lecture. Nope. It was completely different. She was dropping me off in the crazy bin and possibly not planning on picking me up again.

  “I know what I saw.” My words steadied. “It was a planned attack. I’m not the only one who’s experienced something like it, either.”

  Her gaze dropped from mine, and she crumpled a napkin in her hands.

  “Don’t you see what you’ve become?” Her mouth pursed together disapprovingly, and I wanted to shake her. Snap her out of whatever delusional fairytale she was living in. I wasn’t the one with the problem.

  “What’s that?” I questioned, watching her fingers tear through the napkin.