Dying Days: Origins

by Armand Rosamilia

  Rasta Dude stared at her.

  Tosha turned away and went to the window, shoving her face between two blinds and her nose touching the cold glass. She tried to fight the tears. "I wanted to go first into the other bedroom. I had the baseball bat. I'm the aggressive one, the bitch who picked fights and beat on people. Not Mathyu. She talked her way out of confrontations, making friends with people. Mostly online, of course. She was always the better person, and I was the street thug who tagged along and never learned a fucking thing."

  "You can't blame yourself."

  Tosha turned to him. "Why not? It really is my fault. Even with all this shit going on, she was still smiling and still having a fun time. She thought her life was a fucking video game, and this was another level to complete. I should have opened that door."

  "I'm sure she wants you to live. The only way to do that is to stop feeling sorry for yourself and do something about it. Weren't you just saying how much you jump into things, take charge, and act instead of reacting?"

  "I don't remember those words," Tosha joked but she knew what he was getting at. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "I guess it's time to stop the crying and get on with my life. Shit, even if I wanted to give her a proper burial, it's so damn cold outside we couldn't dig a grave."

  "What if we wrapped her in blankets and hid her in the alley until this all blew over? Then we could bury her remains."

  Tosha thought about it. She didn't want to toss her sister away like garbage. But she knew Rasta Dude was kidding himself if he thought this was magically going to end on a good note. "I'll get some of my blankets. Hers are the only ones that are actually clean."

  He picked up the hand axe and nodded. "Don't forget your baseball bat."

  Tosha went into her room and stripped her bed of the sheets and blanket and willed herself to be strong and not cry when they got downstairs. Mathyu would want her to get her shit together and stop being a crybaby.

  "Let's do this," she said, her words sounding big and bold but her mind reeling at what they had to do.

  Chapter Seven: Give 'em The Axe

  It was even worse than she thought it was going to be. Mathyu had begun to decay, even with the freezing temperatures outside. Her body, once propped against the wall, had slid down to the floor with a trail of dried blood coating the spot behind her.

  Rasta Dude opened the front door slowly, gripping the hand axe. He didn't move.

  "Hurry up," Tosha hissed. She felt bile rising in her throat at the smell and thought of being here.

  "I will, don't rush me." He stuck his head out quickly and pulled back, his face already covered in stray snowflakes.

  "What do you see?"

  "A lot of snow. But no new footprints. Grab her arms."

  "Fuck that. I'll grab her feet." Tosha didn't want her sister's ruined dead face so close to her. She didn't want her eyes locked on her, staring sightlessly with disappointment. Tosha had failed her in the ultimate way. Because of her mistake, Mathyu was dead. And her head was split in twain, to boot.

  Rasta Dude snapped his finger in front of her face. "Wake up. I'm freezing, and we need to move her before someone, either living or dead, sees us. It's a long walk in the snow and I don't have snow boots."

  "Neither do I."

  "Exactly. Get her feet." Rasta Dude put the blankets on the hallway floor, already a thin dusting of snow covering them. They put her down and wrapped her up.

  They lifted her easily and stumbled out into the snowdrift covering the walkway, snow up to their thighs in spots. It was hard carrying her while also carrying their weapons and bundled so heavily, but they managed.

  As they approached the alley, Tosha saw dark figures moving down the road, features distorted in the swirling snow. She didn't know if they were coming or going or exactly how many were out there. She didn't want to stick around to find out. Whether it was monsters or looters, she wasn't in the mood for a fight out in the open while her fingers were already getting numb.

  The alley was piled with debris and the dumpster was overflowing as usual. Even though it was supposed to be for their building, most of the street used it. The landlord never bothered to dump it more than twice a month, so it was usually a spot to throw excess garbage until the city threatened the landlord with a fine. Then he'd order another pickup the following week, but never any more than that.

  "How far in do we go?" Rasta Dude asked.

  "I'm not leaving her where she could be eaten."

  Rasta Dude looked disappointed but simply nodded his head. "If I climb over the trash hill, can you slide her over to me? We can't get over carrying her."

  "I can try." Tosha looked down the road. The figures were definitely moving this way. "We'll have company soon."

  "Then we need to hurry."

  He pushed his way through the junk, pulling himself up and over a broken shopping cart, before dropping to the other side. At the lowest point, it was at least four feet high. "Had her over."

  "She's light, but she isn't that light," Tosha said but was able to lift her up, not looking at her ruined face, and sliding-pushing her up onto the shopping cart.

  "Climb over," Rasta Dude said as he swung the blanketed body up and out of sight.

  Tosha was freezing, despite all the layers of clothing. She'd been numb with cold for hours and missed heat and being able to feel her fingers and toes. This is ridiculous. We need to set a fire when we get back upstairs. I wish we'd gotten an apartment with a fireplace, she thought.

  Rasta Dude gave her a hand over the pile, smiling as he did so.

  "What a gentleman," Tosha said. "But get your hand off my ass."

  "It is a nice ass."

  "No kidding. It's also freezing, so let's do this."

  The alley dead-ended in a small space between their building and the one next to them, no more than a foot of space going back for six feet.

  "We can wedge her in there until Spring," Rasta Dude said.

  Tosha just wanted her out of the building, as cruel as it sounded. She loved her sister but the smell would draw a crowd, and the sight of her every day would remind Tosha of her failure.

  "Fine. Try to find a path through all this shit," she said.

  They picked up the body and began walking slowly, Rasta Dude stepping backward as he picked his way through the lumps of debris covered in snow.

  Tosha was confused as a lump a few feet behind Rasta Dude and just at the front of the alcove began to move. As a bloody blue-tinged figure emerged, Tosha dropped her sister's legs unceremoniously.

  "What's the big deal?" Rasta Dude said but turned and drew his axe, following her gaze.

  Tosha hefted the baseball bat. "Let me get this."

  "Seriously? Now you wanna act all Xena Warrior Princess out here?" Rasta Dude stepped to the side. "Have at it."

  Tosha stepped past him and cocked the bat over her shoulder, making sure she had enough room in the alley to swing.

  It was a man, his intestines frozen and bouncing on the ground beneath him as he shuffled.

  "Hit him already. We need to get back inside. We still have another body to get, remember?"

  Tosha planted her feet and gripped the bat in her cold hands, watching as the dead guy took another step, his dead eyes seemingly locked on hers.

  She glanced down at her broken sister, wrapped in a blanket and about to be tossed out like trash, and her anger welled. This was not how this was supposed to happen, she screamed in her head. None of this was supposed to ever happen.

  Her first swing slapped against his cheek with such force he fell sideways, but he was still moving. As he pushed himself up onto one knee, Tosha raised the baseball bat above her head and swung straight down, driving it into his skull. His head split, his neck shattering at the impact.

  When he twitched and his hands started moving, she swung again and again, pulping his face and head into the snow.

  "I think you got him," Rasta Dude said.

  For good measure, Tosha slam
med him twice more with the bat.

  Rasta Dude gripped her hands before she could swing again, and for a moment she tried to pull away from him, still angry and wanting to inflict more damage.

  He pulled Tosha into his chest, where she sank into him and cried.

  Their moment was cut short when they heard shuffling at the mouth of the alley. They both dropped down, crouching behind garbage.

  Past the wall of garbage, on the road in front of the building, they could see a shuffling mass of walking cadavers.

  "They got here quick," Rasta Dude said quietly.

  "No way are they the ones I saw. It must be another group coming from around the corner." Tosha put her back against the cold wall. If the undead saw them in the alley, she didn't know if they could get to them over the heaps of trash, but she didn't want to find out. There was nowhere to go and it looked like at least a score of them were walking past. She was sure there were still more heading up the road as well.

  "Shit, how many of them are there?" Rasta Dude whispered in her ear as he slid over next to her, his entire body shaking in the cold. His breath misted before him, mingling with hers. "I count at least thirty so far, and those are just the ones I can see from this angle."

  "More are coming." Tosha snuggled closer to Rasta Dude.

  He smiled and wrapped an arm around her.

  "Don't get fresh. I'm still not having sex with you," Tosha said and watched the zombies move excruciatingly slowly past their hiding spot as the snow came down harder.

  "I don't want to die a virgin," he said with a whispered laugh.

  Tosha glared at him, before returning to her vigil, watching for a break. "I seriously doubt that."

  "Why do you say that? Because you find me attractive?"

  "Nope." Tosha smiled. "It's because you have weed. Chicks dig a guy with good pot."

  "True."

  Tosha tapped him on the arm. "There's a break. Let's go see if we can get out of here now."

  "I was about to make my move," Rasta Dude said.

  "Just assume I said no and slapped you across the face," Tosha said as she walked in her own path to get back to the pile of garbage. Her prints were almost covered up already in fresh snow.

  As she leaned forward to see, she caught sight of a nearing zombie, coming down the street. She dropped to her knees and held the baseball bat, expecting an attack at any moment.

  When it didn't come, she glanced back at Rasta Dude, who motioned for her to get down. Tosha put her back to the wall again, making sure she couldn't be seen from the street.

  After what seemed like brutally cold hours, Rasta Dude joined her. "They went by. I counted another fifty-six I could see. This is crazy."

  "Imagine if this is really going on all over the world. How many people are dead and now stalking us still living?"

  Tosha stood and checked the street. It seemed empty, a white haze of snow blanketing everything.

  "We need to get your sister situated," Rasta Dude said.

  They placed her as far into the alcove as they could before going back to the mouth and exiting when they were sure they were once again alone.

  "We still have to move the old woman as well," Rasta Dude said.

  "I'm not looking forward to moving her. She weighs twice as much as my sister."

  "Stop your whining," he said as they got back to the front door and he opened it. "This will only take a minute."

  They both stopped in their tracks.

  Tosha could see a glimpse of Bald Guy as he stumbled up the stairs and out of sight. The front door to the old woman's apartment was open.

  "Sonofabitch," Rasta Dude said. "I think that fat fuck got us."

  Chapter Eight: Be One of Us

  The old woman's apartment had been picked clean. Her body still remained where the sisters had left it, but the cabinets were open and bare. Anything of value (both monetary and for survival) was gone.

  "We're outside fighting the cold and he's in here stealing my shit," Tosha said.

  Rasta Dude laughed. "How is it your shit?"

  Tosha put her hands on her hips. "Fine, our shit. Happy?"

  "It was nobodys shit. Finders keepers and all that. That bastard beat us to it."

  Tosha shook her head. "No, he helped by carrying everything upstairs for us. I'm going to have a little chat with our rude neighbor. By the time I'm done with him, he'll be cooking us dinner tonight."

  "Look, while I agree the guy is an asshole, I can't see storming upstairs and stealing from him. I say we do a door to door search and clean out the other apartments before he gets to it. There has to be plenty of food for us." Rasta Dude pointed to the apartment across the hall. "I say we start right here."

  Tosha knew every word he'd said made sense, but she was pissed. How could Bald Guy have such balls, to go into the apartment where his sister had been killed, and steal food she'd been killed trying to get? She was mad, and she was going to do something about it. "We can kick in some doors once I deal with this asshole. There's a score to settle."

  "Only in your mind."

  Tosha smiled. "Even at the end of the world, it is still about me. I guess you haven't learned that yet." She patted him on the arm. "But you will, soon enough." She glanced up the steps. "Now I need to get our shit."

  "I wish you'd think about this first. Seriously."

  "I'm a woman of action, Rasta Dude." Tosha took the steps two at a time. "Feel free to be polite and knock on some doors. I'm going to kick his in."

  "Wait…"

  Tosha walked up to the door and put up her fist but hesitated. What was she going to say? Give me the stuff you stole that we were about to steal, but got caught outside with the dead bodies?

  She heard Rasta Dude come up behind her.

  "I thought you were going door to door," she said without turning.

  "And miss this argument? Not on your life. Besides, the dude with the beard downstairs is creepy."

  "And that is why we call him Devil Beard. Duh." Tosha knocked on the door. She decided to use a tactful approach with Bald Guy. No use in kicking him in the nuts and busting into the place before they talked. She knew he wouldn't just hand over the stuff, but maybe he would be willing to work with them. Safety in numbers and all that fun. She tried to casually hold the baseball bat. Again, no use in looking like she would beat his face in. She would if she had to, but still…

  Tosha stood and stared at the door. She didn’t hear Bald Guy moving around inside.

  "I say we forget about him for now. Let's start moving from the bottom level and up. Looters will hit the first floor, so we should finish those apartments," Rasta Dude said.

  Tosha knocked again. "You're just afraid to confront Devil Beard by yourself. Pussy."

  "Whatever. I say we go."

  "Not until I get what I came here for." Tosha knocked again. "I know you're in there, buddy. Open this door. We just want to talk to you."

  "We? You got a mouse in your pocket?" Rasta Dude asked behind her. "I don't want any part in this dude. He already hates me."

  "I guess, when he hears my reasonable request to hand over the food and supplies, I won't have to share anything with you. Because I did all the work."

  "You can have anything he puts his hands on. I'm going back downstairs, with or without you."

  Tosha waved impatiently and turned to face him. "Fine. Say hi to Devil Beard for me. Just watch out for the pitchfork. I'm going to kick this door in if I have to."

  "Have fun," Rasta Dude said.

  Tosha heard the lock disengage on Bald Guy's door, followed by the chain.

  "Here we go," she whispered. She still held the baseball bat but made sure it looked unthreatening and the barrel was resting on the dirty hallway floor. In a flash, she could heft it and slam it into the dude's bald head.

  The door opened a crack, darkness behind Bald Guy. "What?"

  Tosha didn't want to call him Bald Guy, but she had no idea what his actual name was. "I'm Tosha Shorb and this is
, uh…"

  "Chico."

  "Right! Chico. We are your neighbors. I'm guessing you already know the situation outside. We're wondering if you'd like to join forces with us to survive. The looters and zombies will be arriving shortly, I imagine."

  Bald Guy hadn't said a word, but the door was still ajar. Tosha took this for a good sign. "Anyway, I think if we all band together, we can protect the building and keep people and monsters out. We were outside, and it's pretty grim. Roaming dead on the streets, the snow is falling, and as you can clearly feel, no power. It's cold and our supplies are limited." She glanced back at Rasta Dude. "I know you went down and cleared out the old lady in one. We haven't begun to do an apartment to apartment search, but we think three of us together could do it quicker."

  "Step away from my door."

  Tosha stared stupidly at first. "Huh?"

  "Last chance."

  Rasta Dude put a hand on Tosha's shoulder. "I told you. Let's just go before you piss him off."

  Too late, Tosha thought. This wasn't going as planned, like everything else in her life. She thought of her sister, currently being covered in snow outside, and sighed. She needed to keep fighting and survive.

  "Gun," Rasta Dude yelled.

  Tosha heard the roar of the shotgun as she fell to the dirty hallway floor.

  Chapter Nine: Bloody Tears

  There was blood streaked through Tosha's hair and face. She was on her back and her arm was burning, eyes rolling in her head. Am I shot? Am I dead? She tried to move but her legs were unresponsive. Am I paralyzed? She panicked and tried to roll over when she realized Rasta Dude (or what was left of him) was splayed across her feet and ankles.

  "Get up slowly," Bald Guy was saying to her but she was half-listening.

  "Can I get some help?" she asked. Her head was spinning and she didn't know how much damage her body had taken. She pushed Rasta Dude's corpse off her with her right arm and tried to stand.