The Integration (Part I): Still Myself, Still Surviving

by Marlin Grail

  An unknown foul stench has been apparent the moment this door was opened. I bump into a corner of something that is on my right, leading me closer to the smell. I decide to clamp my fingers on the bordered frame that is slightly shown by the light. I now identify this being an unfolded baby changing table. The unpleasant smell seems to be coming from the center of this platform.

  I would imagine this bad odor being a dirty diaper a baby was being changed out of. How long ago did the process get abruptly stopped, and where is that baby now?

  I decide to pass by it, leaving my questions behind, now going to the single stall beside the urinal. Unlocked, I open it, quickly imagining where toilet paper would be hung at. No softness of a roll can I feel on both the left and right sides of the stall walls, even while I slide my hand up and down them to make sure I do not get tricked by the darkness. “Nothing in here,” I say to Janice. Looking out at her, I also see Lissie, patiently waiting for me. “Did you find anything?” I ask.

  “Yeah. But, an undead is in there, and is definitely incubating.” She shares, flustered by it causing her troubles. Being a tight and narrow walkway, between the bathroom and employees only area, I politely move past them both, in order to see the undead for myself. I ask Lissie before I open the door where she saw it. “It's further by the wall with windows, laid on its stomach just like a plank flat on the floor.”

  I then take a look in the room. Leaning in, I can see a tall metal shelf—adjacent to the wall that is left from this door's wall. It has stock of numerous toilet paper rolls, paper towels, and various chemical cleaners. Looking down at the floor, I notice what concern Lissie was regarding. This undead is face-front on the ground, mumbling its gnarly noises. Its skin has proudly forced its veins to be upfront.

  Usually, when I have seen an undead have severely rotten, grayed, flesh, the next sign before it bursts is the body creating craters of open tears all over.

  “This one is about to explode.” I tell Lissie and Janice, inducing my own concern.

  “Man, I really would've liked a few rolls for us to have!” Lissie says with disappointment.

  Instantly, I think in this introspective moment that I should make the attempt to obtain what I can see, so I can confidently tell our superior we searched and grabbed all we could, while I can also fulfill what Lissie would like. I tell her to hold the door open, as I will go over to the shelf. “I will grab some, and we will leave.”

  Walking to the supplies is easy, but what is difficult by default is not knowing how long this undead has before exploding. Scooping rolls with my arm, I let them fall into the bag. Unfortunately, 1 tips out and plops onto the undead. It looks behind and glares at me. Immediately, it works itself to get up, straining their decayed and atrophied muscles. Just as soon as they begin moving, their flimsy skin starts to rip apart, revealing some of the ribcage and vertebrae of its back. The blackish haze begins to squeeze out of the body, like steam coming from a broken pipe.

  I charge back to Lissie and Janice, shouting for them to go out. Right then, as soon as I begin shutting the door, a loud boom pummels my ear drums. Flesh launches its way past the closing door, and slaps to the wall behind me, sticking to the surface. I order us to start moving outside. Without confusion, Ashton follows.

  “Damn!” he says, referring to the loudness this freshly-born haze discharged.

  Hopefully, because I closed it off from the outside in the seal-tight room, it will not be a nuisance to us.

  Now on the street again, we recount everything we could collect in the store. “Whoever we're giving these supplies to wouldn't be pleased so far.” Ashton says, lacking positivity in his voice.

  “We're not done, yet.” Janice responds, arguing with an upbeat tone.

  I agree, and take our group to the closest building, across from the gas station.

  I can tell, from various advertisements of books plastered on the glass windows of this place, that this was a small book store.

  “What useful things could we find in there?” Lissie says.

  “We might as well take a quick look.” I say back, adopting Janice's bright focus.

  One of the glass panels is already shattered, making the entry uncomplicated. I instruct the same positions we had, and we commence the search. Many books remain on their wooden shelves, as if they were skimmed over entirely by rioters and scavengers alike. Some appear on display, like they would have been a year ago before the world collapsed.

  The front desk has nothing of interest, for there is only a computer that does not turn on, and a written list suggesting books to be delivered to the store's inventory on certain dates, with most already passed. Lissie and Janice have checked every isle, finding only paper not needed. “Might as well take a book for myself!” Janice states, grabbing one off a shelf.

  She's mentioned before that reading is still essential, and can help pass the time.

  “Make sure you grab me one then, preferably Sci-Fi.” Ashton tells her from across the building.

  Lissie passes up on getting a book. “My attention span for reading has always been short.”

  Janice asks if I want a book too.

  I decide to take a look at the shelves' classification system, scanning in the Fantasy genre. “Really? I always saw you more as a Non-Fiction kind of person.” Lissie chimes in, speaking from the opposite side of the shelves.

  “Stories with creative tales was more entertaining to me than learning biology… it is funny how biology thought only what was in their books were real, and that the stories which involved monsters would never occur in our realm of existence.” I say, diverting to a tone that indicates me growing into a trance-like state.

  I shake myself out of the deep thinking, and pick out a book. We now leave this place to move towards another—a post office. This time, its front door is fully open. “A snack room would be nice to find.” Ashton voices, sounding stultified and unambitious.

  The place has an employee only space too, but does not have much to offer. We walk out, with no danger inside or out. “We're over halfway done with this area, and all we could find in the last 2 places are books and coffee beans?” Lissie asks, frustrated.

  I recognize the same frustration, but I defend we have done well finding anything to begin with, and if our superior is a reasonable person, then he will understand the scarcity of our situation.

  Up next is a small free-clinic, built with old red bricks as its perimeter. We bounce to the door, finding it closed. Out of sparse curiosity, I check the knob, making sure my guess that it is locked is indeed correct.

  Surprisingly, it begins to twist all the way. I then open the door, letting sunlight flow in. Momentarily, after observing all of the potential spots to look, I see a sight we have yet to come across. It may relieve our stress from lacking supplies, but will not assuage any of us, due to this new bothersome sight we've come across.

  Chapter XIX

  “Shh!” I whisper to everyone behind.

  I see 5 sleeping bags scattered across the flooring of this center room, all zipped up and each full of mass. Medication bottles rest irresponsibly around the carpet, with some fallen on their sides, dumping pills out.

  If these people are asleep, then we still have an opportunity to leave unnoticed.

  I turn around to gesture our group to move, but Lissie and I bump each other. She stands stoutly, looking past me, examining the area in her own mind. “Wait. I have to get up close.” She murmurs, putting her hand on my shoulder to have me listen.

  “We cannot risk they wake up.” I argue in a gentle but firm voice.

  She then includes a claim that could diametrically add a twist to this situation. “No, Gary, if I'm right, then they're not even alive.”

  Without care for consent, she goes ahead into the building, carefully equipping the gun I gave her. I figure trying to convince her to come back would further my concern of them hearing us, so I wait anxiously with everyone else by the door. She carefully kneels to one of
the sleeping bags, and stares at it intently.

  I would imagine she is looking for signs of breaths that would make the bag raise and lower.

  After several seconds, she then takes a look at a bottle that was located next to this bag. It appears she analyzes it, with a sense of understanding with what purpose it would have. Immediately, she has an expression of full realization, along with a deep exhale in melancholy.

  Her next action worries me most, for she now is prepared to unzip this bag—hesitantly, but nonetheless prepared to have zero doubt in her conclusion. The sound of the unzipping agitates. By the time Lissie ceases, I am ready to act on reflex for what occurs next.

  As morbid as it is, it calms me to see Lissie take a deep breath from relief.

  Though it's relief, she closes her eyes in turmoil to the one fact I know she proved true. She stands up, and looks around once more before turning to us. “They killed themselves, and they used muscle-relaxants to do it.”

  Because no movement popped up from what she said, it only furthers she is correct.

  It enables the rest of us to move inside. I walk over to the bag Lissie is standing next to, and see the pale, peaceful, face of a man who feel asleep, purposefully not wanting to wake up. Janice walks over to another bag, unzipping it without issue, only to take a step back with a hand covering her open mouth. “It seems like it was mutual.” Lissie says, logical in her tone, but still sounding disturbed.

  Ashton takes a glance at one bag, but remains silent with his intake, and purely stays focused on keeping watch up at the front. Knowing everyone is taken aback by this sight, I suggest we give a moment of silence for these people. We close our eyes, and offer nothing but sincere respect in regards to their decision of suicide.

  Trey was right. It is a good thing their bodies won't return as undead, considering that's not how it works, fortunately.

  At the end, I open my eyes, quickly looking over at Ashton for a hushed conversation we have shared for years about this matter.

  He never wants it brought up, but I see each time, when this matter presses into his life once again, he grows more incapable of hiding the one heartache he will never let go, but never acknowledge, and that is the memory of his sister's death. Her passing was caused from a conscious decision in overdosing on the medications that their mother was addicted on. Their mother made their childhood household volatile—comprised of violence and depression, and Ashton won't come to terms to admit it.

  Ashton tell us that we should start searching for medicines to take.

  He purposefully wants to angle the focal point on anything else, so a possible discussion about his troubled past dissipates from being the center of my attention.

  “Alright. Janice and Lissie, you go to the front desk to see if any more medicines can be found. I will head down the rooms and search for some myself. Of course, Ashton, you worry about the outside.” I instruct, accepting his subtle nudging.

  As much as we all want to keep our head and shoulders tall, and disciplined on our mission, I can tell the heaviness of seeing these sleeping bags weighs us down.

  I investigate many examination rooms, finding only tools used for check-ups, but every now and then do I acquire gauze pads and wrap, along with medicinal gels and bandages. Very little food do I find, except filled trash cans with the wrinkled bags and packets that were consumed—likely by those people out front.

  The search is fluent and short, and though I know the exigency for supplies means we cover every nook and cranny, I feel uneasy investigating an area where survivors roamed and hid out in, especially considering they felt the place was not enough for them to stay alive.

  I do not look down on them for the decision they chose. If this is the tomb they fitted for, by such, I feel we are trampling on it, and should show reverence through leaving as quick as possible.

  I trust Lissie and Janice found medications from the front, not having trouble handling what we were here for. As I walk to the lobby area, Ashton calls out my name with tension in his voice. “I'm spotting people outside!”

  Lissie and Janice rush from where the over-the-counter pharmaceuticals were located at, and now move back to the center of the room. “How many can you see?” I ask.

  He confirms 4 are walking down the road from the opposite side that we came from. He also describes that they look armed.

  I hurry to the window Ashton is next to, and scope out the people as well. All of them are males, and definitely stroll with a cadence of confidence with where they are. One then turns their head towards our direction, signaling the others to move with him. “Dammit! They're gonna come in!” Ashton yells at a low volume.

  I command everyone to go down the hallway and out through the emergency fire door, which will lead us to the back wall of the building. Ashton and I remain hunched below the window, biting our teeth that none of them see our movement. One of the sleeping bags is in front of me, and because the pathway to get out from potential view from the outside looking in is unfitted for walking—I have no choice but to crawl right over the covered but tangible body in it. “I am really sorry.” I whisper, while shoving my knees into the stomach of who I presume would not have appreciated this close contact when they were alive.

  Sure enough, Ashton and I reunite, with Lissie and Janice undetected by the people, and we all run down the hall—getting to the alternate exit as if a real fire was in the building. Once all of us get out, we recollect on where we stand with our mission.

  “We got some medicines, but not as much as we would've liked.” Lissie shares, recounting the bottles several times.

  “In this circumstance, we have enough.” I state, certain to remain direct on the problem as of this moment. I get to the very left of the building, and lean out to see if anyone of them will notice us. “All clear.” Hugging the walls, we stealth our way to where the front door is at. I tilt out once more, looking inside the main area before we cross the doorway. We get there, and huddle underneath the windows.

  All we need to do now is get out of the vicinity by moving down the way we came from.

  I suggest we get behind another building, and pause our run until these people pass. I escort the group who are behind me to carefully move back to a place we have already searched. After several delicate steps, I turn back to have a headcount of everyone. I see Lissie and Janice following, but Ashton still is below the window ledges of the free-clinic.

  For some reason, the people inside seem to be creating commotion that has held his attention.

  I order Lissie and Janice to stay put, while I hurry back to Ashton. To my surprise, when I get to him, I overhear and get drawn in as well to the loud conversation going on inside.

  I hear frustrated phrases from one of these men spewing distasteful comments, such as, “These cowards!”, and, “We should've not told them what was gonna come today!”

  I immediately refrain from wanting to know more about this quarrel those people who killed themselves were in, for all we need to know is this group wandering the lobby are not friendly in any sort.

  I lightly smack Ashton on his jacket, implying we need to catch up with Lissie and Janice. “Not yet. These people need to go.” Ashton argues through a whisper.

  I recognize he has a vulnerability about what suicide means to him, but I warn that our mission is not to engage in assault with others.

  One of them start taunting this dead group, by firing at a sleeping bag.

  Ashton grows visibly more enraged with each laugh the man makes. “They don't respect these dumb, dumb, bodies? They don't deserve to live.” He says with a biting tone to me.

  Suddenly, one of these people converse with his group about hearing something. “Guys, get in here! I know I heard what sounded like a voice!” they yell.

  Infuriated, Ashton jolts himself up, takes his rifle, and bursts fire directly through the windows, horizontally spraying the left and right of the lobby, rapidly pressing his trigger.

  I am exceedingly
upset with his decision, but in this moment he requires my assisting firepower.

  I see Janice and Lissie in the distance, wanting to jump in with us, but I order them to take cover elsewhere.

  I pull out my guns, and scream my thoughts in my mind about what these men will try and do to avoid our attack. “Stay here! I will go around to watch the emergency door!” I shout, piercing my voice over Ashton's gunfire.

  He accepts as best as he can—not doing anything differently. I hurry around to the left of the building, and cautiously stay near the wall.

  If Ashton took out one, then only 3 should remain, so I best be prepared to handle multiple opponents.

  I listen in to my surroundings, hearing only Ashton upfront blasting bullets, outside wind, and the sound of my heart pounding with adrenaline.

  A few moments pass, then I begin to hear the back door's latch release. Aiming past my right hip, I start blindfiring in a blaze, mindful of my shots, but careless of how much ammunition I lose in these clips. I know a body drops, because one of the men plea for me to stop. “Please! Not us! We weren't like him!” he shrills.

  A slight sob I can start hearing come from the one talking, but I choose not to see them directly. “Then stay in the building! I will call off the one out front to stop shooting! Stay in there for several minutes after we leave!” I command, viciously.

  He complies, promising the 2 of them will stay in there all day if it means Ashton and I do not kill him and his friend.

  After careful consideration on whether to trust this or not, I threaten if they try and harm us, with our backs turned, then they will not survive. No further responses come from the back door, so I slowly move back towards Ashton. “They are not going anywhere!” I say.

  “No! They all need to die!” he yells back.

  I assert that he needs to return to the group. “We need to leave. I believe we have enough we can bring.” I say with a stern, cold, tone to him. I point my finger in the direction where Lissie and Janice are at, expecting him to not disobey my command.