by Thomas, Jack
The man who lost his life to save the little girl, just so she could live a few more seconds, that was by far the most horrible thing, ever, at all. Misha’s death was bad, but there was something much darker, more twisted about how this man gave his life for no reason at all. The little girl lost her life the same way and we couldn’t do anything about it. Our choices were to sit back and let it happen or lose our lives for some additional seconds in the delay of the inevitable.
Before I knew it, we were back at the first building where we split up from Mara. I made it to the bottom level of the fire escape and I lowered the ladder ever so gently to avoid any noise being made. It wasn’t soundless but it wasn’t anything loud enough to attract the infected. Lizbeth stood at the top waiting for me to let her know when it was ready so that she could tell Marcus and Strobe they could come through. Once the ladder was as far down as it could get, the moment of truth arrived.
I nodded at Lizbeth. She vanished from my line of sight and went over to the other side to tell Marcus and Strobe.
They made it to the alley like ninjas. At first I wasn’t even aware that they were in the alley but metal rubbed against metal and when I looked it was the ladder jiggling back and forth while Strobe climbed it. Marcus followed up the ladder and made sure none of the infected remained in the area. Everything went pretty smoothly.
Once both Marcus and Strobe were going up the fire escape to the roof, I pulled up the ladder just in case one of the infected was cleverer than the rest and figured out how to use the ladder. I followed Marcus and Strobe to the roof when I finished. We met up with Lizbeth at the top. She’d clearly become close to her group before Marcus and I came along and she shivered with anxiety, worried for Strobe. She gave him a tight gripped hug. No exchange or words, just relief that he was still alive.
Everyone was so exhausted from the last two days, to the point that even after the reunion hugs were handed out, silence took over. We walked over to the ladder that made up the bridge between the two buildings and we made our way across. Marcus whispered, “watch your step” to Lizbeth while he helped her get onto Trevor’s building.
Strobe and I removed the ladder and put it to a side once we were all on the other side.
In Trevor’s apartment the air became easier to breathe. Tension faded and we all relax now that Marcus and Strobe were with us again. Both of them made themselves at home in Trevor’s apartment. I noticed that Trevor wasn’t in the living room with the rest of us but a faint hum came from the kitchen, to the tune of some old country song I heard once a million years prior. He kept cooking; he wanted to finish the breakfast.
Having a chance to sit and rest without having to keep an eye on everyone allowed me to realize two things. One was the fact that I’ve been cold for the last couple of days which was masked by the constant need to run for my life made sure I forgot that it was winter. The second was the fact that I didn’t have a respectable meal in several days. I manage to scavenged random little nothings like candy bars and what not but not a full meal. My stomach realized it was hungry after I did and it screamed at me. It and I had a little back and forth argument for a bit. I’d tell it to shut up, everyone would look at me like I’m crazy and it would yell at me again so loud everyone could hear it, but no one react to it so they either ignored the loud sound or it was loud only to me. Maybe they didn’t even ignore it but rather, it didn’t faze them in the first place. I mean, with zombies roaming the streets outside even in this “abandoned” city, feeling safe came far in between. I considered the possibility that our minds blocked all things that were not related to pure survival. Hunger was just something else in the world, therefore, unimportant.
Marcus, Strobe, Edwin and I all sat on the couches in the living room while Lizbeth paced back and forth. Mara was in the kitchen on a chair at the dinner table. She watched Trevor make breakfast. From my point of view, she was the only person in the kitchen. Trevor was nowhere to be seen, but he soon reminded everyone he was still there. “If you’re hungry…” his voice echoed out, “…come to the kitchen and take what you want!” A smile crawled onto everyone’s face and rested there with their excitement.
Lizbeth, already on her feet, made her way to the kitchen. Marcus, Strobe, Edwin and I stood up and took our time to let the girls get their food first. None of us ever mentioned that we would let them get their food first but I guess our parents taught us well enough for it to be a given between all of us.
I stepped into the kitchen last out of the guys and what I walked into was nothing short of a dream come true, if my dream was for food instead of the end of the apocalypse. It was as good, for the circumstances, as it was going to get. Eggs, bacon, bread with butter, sausages, orange juice and milk. It looked like the food was taken right out of a cereal commercial. You know the commercials that show irrationally large portions of food aside a huge bowl of cereal that was previously drowned in milk. Like people sit around and eat applejacks and bacon.
I stared dead at all this food, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the volume and the scent, that fascinating scent that came with it all. I took one of the plates set on the table and grabbed a little of everything like everyone else. We subconsciously made a line similar to lunch lines in high school. One person would take and move up to the next bit of food and the one behind would move to where the last person was. By the time I gathered the last of my food and sat at the large dinner table for breakfast… the breakfast table… everyone already tore into their food like they had some beef with it.
They were all so happy to sit around the table and eat their food. There still lingered an eerie hate because Misha couldn’t be here, but just being alive was an accomplishment we couldn’t ignore. The worst thing was to know that so much more horror waited for us in the future. The meal in front of us, the people we had around us, everything we knew to be true in that one moment could be gone an hour later. It brought a new meaning to the word thankful for us all.
Everyone smiled at each other and conversed on random subject matter. That moment was the only bit of normal peace that any of us experienced in a few days and it was all thanks to this old man, Trevor, who allowed us into his home and shared his food with us. Marcus was also to thank.
These strangers that I knew for less than a week were already family. The things we experienced together forced us to be more than strangers and forced us to trust each other enough to hand our lives over. Funny how the end of the world brings so many strangers together but on a regular non-apocalyptic day I doubt any of us would have even said so much as ‘hello’ to each other.
The sun finally rose entirely over the buildings that blocked it off and lit the city. A burst of light shot through Trevor’s kitchen window.
Trevor paused while reaching for his food and turned his attention to me.
“I cleared out the whole building,” Trevor began. He took a bite of the sausage. “I put two and two together and figured that I wouldn’t survive outside for long because of my age, so I stood behind and waited for the chaos to clear up, but by the time that took place there was nowhere left to go.” He paused to swallow his food and take another bite of the sausage but not before he dipped it in a bit of sauce by his plate on the table. “I decided to make this my personal home for as long as it could keep an old man alive. Luckily I didn’t need to barricade the entrances to the building because that was done before everyone decided to evacuate.” Trevor finished what was left of the sausage and his plate was empty. He left the plate and walked over to the window where he stood. “Over time I figured someone sane, similar to you, would stroll by and I’d offer you safety behind thick walls in exchange for the travels outside that I cannot be part of.” He turned his gaze away from the window and back onto everyone at the table. “That reminds me! You are welcome to stay here for as long as you like. I could use the company.
Trevor walked away from the window and took his plate to the sink. The moment he left the front of the window everyone noti
ced that it was snowing outside. Edwin rushed to the window to get a closer look. Thick shiny white snowflakes fell from the sky. It was like Christmas. Of course Christmas was no more than a few days ago and the infestation of infected took much of the Christmas joy out of the week, but it was still nice. Being in Trevor’s building wasn’t so bad. The old man had reason to believe the place would make a good home for him and future comers.
At that point, all that mattered was that everyone was safe and could remain safe. Trevor’s place was the perfect environment to accomplish this so that I could leave the group without having to wonder if they would live or not. The next step was to find my family at the school in The Hills and to somehow rescue Jason from Richard and his men. How far would I be able to go to stay alive? Would saving Jason trump my want to stay alive?
Day 6
Richard
If these infant minded morons had the same survival instinct this Jason kid did, there would be more men alive to gather supplies. Maybe Farpoint base wouldn’t have gotten so out of control either. I needed a solution for Jason’s resistance to my efforts; his eyes would open up one way or another. He would not willingly accept what needed to be done to survive.
If he could give in, I could dispose of the dead weight that some of the others are.
I could not risk losing someone that was so willing and able to take a life in order to secure their own. Few of the others had the will to do the same. But this kid managed to do it without a second thought. There is no greater potential, no greater survivor than one who survives as an end to justify the means necessary.
It was sometime in the late morning. I left the confinement of the building we camped out for the night. A few men were up, the rest remained knocked out, Jason included.
I suited up ready for war and went to the first floor where I would exit and assess the damage the infected caused over night. To my surprise there were no infected left alive on the first floor. It was a possibility that one of the others became bored and cleared it as a way to pass the time. On the other side of the front door was snowfall, a thick sheet covered eye’s range. It ended sometime during our rest and left its fluffy mark on the streets and sidewalks as well as the cars and infected that stood outside. Mesmerized by the sight of endless white, I commenced my stride through the sheet of white.
Brookendale
The sounds of nature were replaced by the hungry moans of the infected buried under the sea of snow. The sound, like the snow itself suffered terrible hunger.
There was no pity for those that managed to get infected. The world was a place for two kinds of people. The first were the weak, the ones that could be easily manipulated and ultimately end up as one of the infected. The second were the survivors, the ones that manipulated; the ones that knew it was better to kill than be killed, the ones that would avoid the infection in the name of survival at all cost.
I already conquered my fear of the infected through the analysis and understanding of their behavior. I came to realize that fear would hold us back. All my future endeavors would undergo further ease because of this; in addition, I felt no urgency around the infected. I remained with my senses heightened to still react properly in a moment’s notice.
The purpose of this walk was for nothing other then to allow my mind to wander and uncover a way to show my men and Jason alike that I am not the bad guy my actions paint me out to be. These are just necessary survival tactics that needed to be adopted. A day earlier I was forced to take the lives of several, to secure supplies for our own survival. We ran across them in a city named Creed and they confronted us while we were under attack by the infected. The supplies left afterwards were present due to that group’s sacrifice for us. The only exception was the father and daughter that escaped during the chaos.
I wasn’t exactly pleased to have to take all of their lives, and Jason was reluctant to take part. I would not be discouraged though. The opportunity to demonstrate what must be done would arrive soon enough. Then these cowards would learn how to behave and what would be acceptable, Jason included.
I must admit my favorite part of that day was when I choked the life out of John. He was nothing but a worthless, spineless, second-rate medic and a pathetic soldier that never came to the rank that his abilities demanded. Marcus was slowly going to morph into the same person John was if he continued to ignore the rules of survival the infected laid out for us. His attempt to save everyone, when he knew as well as I did that sacrifices needed to be made, would only slow us down.
I digress.
I walked for several minutes dazed by my own thoughts before I decided to add some purpose to the walk. To gather supplies, our number one goal on this road to survival; with that in mind I turned my attention to a store in the distance. The snow made the already white store nearly invisible. If it weren’t for its windows it would have gone unseen. With no time spared that became my next destination. Once inside I searched for non-perishables and continued to add them to the bag I picked up along the way.
If I learned anything over the years it was that when it came to dealing with people, it was the fact that they always kept secrets and the only proof there could ever be of these secrets is to witness them yourself. These secrets could range from being where someone hides their money as much as it could be where they hide when they are scared.
Below the cash register was a safe hidden inside of the counter, already opened and emptied out. It was opened with the combination so it was safe to assume the rightful owner took their things out and evacuated the area. The rest of the store was looted nearly dry. Nothing of use was left.
Outside, the snowfall started up again and it gathered on the roads and sidewalks faster than it did the day before. The winds were stronger and sporadically created small snow gusts. A blizzard was on the way.
My men and I needed to gain some progress and hopefully find a vehicle that we could reach and use without electricity. With it we would arrive at the school in a shorter period of time and salvage whatever supplies were being wasted on people that would become infected and die regardless of how well kept they were.
The first few days of any major event was always the true factor that decided where things went, and my plan was none other than to take advantage of the first few days after the infection spread and make my mark as a leader amongst survivors.
Sadly, I was forced to let anyone unable to take care of themselves die so they wouldn’t suffer and to prevent them from being the death of someone who could in fact handle themselves. It would be cruel to allow the weak to suffer in the name of survival when they could be released from their pain to allow others who could better manage to do so. As people who could survive it was our job to assure that those unable could die painlessly.
I left the store and entered the increasingly bad snowstorm that was forming. The frozen gusts of wind that came by once every few seconds sent constant chills up my spine and made the hairs on the back of my neck and my arms simultaneously stand up. The storm became so powerful that my mobility was at a minimum. It was difficult for me to continue to walk through the snow without the need to take a break for warmth.
Half way through the walk back to camp I noticed an open door that was shut when I first walked by it. Someone was either hidden inside and ran out, or was outside and ran in. Regardless of which one was the true scenario, I changed my destination to that door. My curiosity got the best of me.
I came closer to the door and took note of the hinges being broken off. The door was almost torn off the wall too. Someone was in a rush. I grabbed the handle of my rifle tightly and adjusted my other hand so that I could walk and aim with improved accuracy. I took close, quiet steps and proceeded into the building. Merely seconds went by before a loud screech like someone trying to scream louder than the extent of their voice allowed scratched my eardrums. The scream came from the next floor. I cautiously sped my pace up and lit the Zippo lighter I taped to the rifle.
A serie
s of cubicles and personal areas for employees told me that I was in an office building. I cleared every cubicle as I walked by them on my way to the staircase. All the cubicles were empty and destroyed because of the panic that must have occurred when first contact was made with the infected.
I reached the stairs to the second floor and stopped at the top of the staircase. I kept silent to better identify a struggle, a fight or someone trying to flee. There was a struggle.
My gun was ready to defend me. I went through the double doors that served as the second floor’s entrance and the single door that followed. On the other side, an uninfected woman fought off one of the infected, and an uninfected man attempted to save that woman.
I loosened the grip on the rifle. The lighter on the gun lit very little but the faint light that scattered throughout the room made the whole scene visible without need for direct light. I watched.
The struggle lasted several moments. The woman yelled and kicked the infected man out of the way while the uninfected man attempted to pull them apart. All of this looked to be worthless effort. The infectee was unfazed.
They showed no signs of awareness that I was in the room but they most definitely saw the light from the lighter. The struggle took all their efforts and focus. After I waited long enough, I approached them. I removed my handgun from the holster and walked over to the infected man. In my approach the uninfected man became aware of my presence and made some distance at the sight of my gun being drawn. I pulled the trigger. One 9mm round pierced the infectee’s head; I kicked him away from the woman who proceeded to panic and pat herself down in shaky hysterical fear. What else could be expected from someone so weak that they were unable to handle one single infectee alone?
