Empty World

by Zach Bohannon

  “Wait.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t go out there.”

  She kneeled next to him and kissed him on the lips, cupping her hands around each side of his face. They were both bleeding, but it didn’t matter. Shell wasn’t walking out of that barn without kissing him.

  “I have to.”

  Keon stared at her with blank eyes, tears welling. She turned away before she, too, grew emotional, and she went to the barn door. When she looked up at Dylan, he was staring at her.

  “You ready?”

  Shell notched an arrow back into her bow, then nodded at him. She raised her bow, ready to fire if necessary.

  Dylan opened the door.

  A group of people stood still, fifteen yards away from the barn. Katrina, Caleb, Julia, and Martin held their weapons aimed and focused on the same person Shell was focused in on.

  Ray stood behind Paul with a knife pressed against his throat. He’d moved to where no one stood behind him. It appeared he was the last member of the gang alive.

  “I suggest you put that down,” Ray said to Shell.

  “And I suggest you let him go.”

  Ray laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

  Shell kept the arrow aimed at the man’s head. She breathed as Lewis had taught her.

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  “Put it down, Shell,” Katrina said. “He’s going to kill Paul if you don’t.”

  Ray raised his shaggy black eyebrows. “Listen to your friend, sweetheart.”

  But Shell kept the arrow focused on him. Kept breathing.

  “I’m ready to negotiate,” Ray said. “You all done killed my whole gang. And we killed a lot of you in return. What do you say we work out a deal?”

  “What kind of deal?” she demanded.

  “That’s easy. You let me go, and your boy Paul here gets to live.”

  “And how do I know that you aren’t going to gather up more goons and return here to kill us?”

  Ray grinned and shook his head. “I suppose you don’t. But look around you. Enough of us are already dead. Do you really want more blood shed?”

  “Don’t do it,” Paul said.

  “Shut up, Paul,” Katrina said, then looking over at Shell. “You’ve got to put it down, Shell.”

  “Yeah, Shell, come on,” Caleb said.

  “Don’t listen to them!” Paul said.

  “I should have killed you when I had the chance.” Ray pushed the blade hard enough against Paul’s throat to draw blood. “But I guess someone else’s blood on your hands will be just as good.”

  “Stop!” Katrina said.

  The man shrugged. “You got one last chance to convince your friend to put that bow down before my hand ‘accidentally’ slips and slides this steel across your friend’s goddamn throat.”

  “Come on, Shell, you’ve got to listen to him,” Julia said.

  “Seriously,” Katrina said. She was crying now. “Shell, please.”

  Shell looked into Paul’s eyes. She could see that he didn’t want her to put the bow down. He nodded, then closed his eyes.

  Shell drew in a deep breath.

  “Time’s up,” Ray said.

  Exhaled.

  “Say goodbye to your friend.”

  The others screamed.

  Ray gripped the knife tighter.

  Aim true and vanquish the past. End the pains of a life once lost.

  Shell let go of the arrow.

  It soared through the air, landing with a thud in Ray’s right eye. He flew backward, and Paul cried out as the knife still slid across his throat.

  Katrina and the others ran to Paul. He lay on the ground with his hand over his throat, but when he let go, there was barely any blood coming out of the wound. The knife had only nicked him.

  Shell walked over and looked down at Ray. He lay still with his arms spread, the arrow protruding from his eye.

  The last member of the gang was dead.

  Katrina looked up at Shell. She stood and grabbed onto Shell’s shirt.

  “What the hell was that shit? What were you thinking?”

  “Katrina, let her go.”

  Shell and Katrina both followed the voice over to the barn, to where Keon had dragged himself outside.

  Katrina hurried to her brother and hugged him.

  Shell approached the rest of the group, who’d helped Paul to his feet. The knife had truly only grazed him. He was bleeding, but he’d be okay. Paul smiled, and tears filled Shell’s eyes as she hugged him.

  “Thank you,” Paul said.

  They pulled away from each other, and Shell noticed Paul’s eyes looking over her shoulder. She turned around to see Dylan standing there.

  Letting go of Paul, she went to Dylan and wrapped her arms around him. He embraced her, running his hand up and down her back.

  “What made you come back?” Shell asked, pulling away.

  “I guess I didn’t want your last impression of me to be that I was selfish.”

  Shell smiled, wiping the tears from her eyes.

  “We need to get you wrapped up so you’ll stop bleeding,” Julia said to Paul.

  “Forget about me.” Paul pointed at Keon. “He needs help.”

  “He’s bleeding pretty bad,” Katrina said. “We need bandages, or rags to stop the bleeding.”

  Shell turned and looked at her farmhouse. The light shined down on it like it had so many times before.

  “I think I know just the place to get some.”

  Epilogue

  One Week Later

  * * *

  Shell looked out the window of her bedroom as the morning sun watched over her front yard. Caleb was out in the grass being chased around by the kids. They tackled him and he fell to the ground as they mobbed him, all of them laughing.

  She looked over at the barn, to where Julia was walking the goats outside. She set down a bucket full of milk, then led them over into the field to graze.

  Everything was back to normal. It was like the days in the town before everyone had died. Shell was no longer alone. She had a new family.

  She looked across the field at the farmhouse next door. In the window, looking back towards her, she saw a familiar face. Dylan stood in the window with his cowboy hat on top of his head. Shell smiled and waved, then turned when the sheets stirred behind her.

  Keon opened his eyes, moaning as he stretched.

  Shell grinned and looked back over to the house next door. But Dylan was no longer standing in the window. She shook her head, then walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it.

  “Good morning.” She leaned in and kissed him.

  “Morning.”

  “How are your legs?”

  “Didn’t they seem fine last night?” he smiled.

  Shell punched his arm. “Stop it. I know you were hurting.”

  “Nothing about that hurt.”

  “I’m serious,” Shell said, shaking her head as she laughed.

  She peeled back the sheets to check his wounds. The stitches had remained tight, keeping the wound closed, and the swelling had gone down some, even since the day before.

  “I think these stitches might be ready to come out by the end of the week,” she said.

  “Sooner than that.”

  “Don’t push it.” Shell stood up. “I was gonna run downstairs. Do you want me to bring you anything back up?”

  Keon pushed himself up and sat against the headboard. “Nah, I’m gonna come down there in a minute.”

  “You need me to hang here and help you down?”

  “Nah, I think I got it.”

  “All right, just yell if you need me.”

  “I think I’ll leave all the yelling and screaming for tonight.”

  Shell rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we’ll see about that, Hot Shot.”

  She laughed as she turned to leave the room, but her eyes fell upon the wall.

  One of the four walls in her bedroom was still covered with the marks
representing each day she had been alone in the abandoned town. Ever since she had come back, she’d stared at it each morning, but hadn’t added anymore marks.

  “We can find some paint or something and cover that up,” Keon said.

  Shell looked back at him and smiled, shaking her head. “It’s a good reminder.”

  Keon nodded in return and Shell left, shutting the door behind her to give Keon some privacy.

  When she arrived downstairs, Shell headed left to the kitchen. Brooke was there, wearing an apron and portioning out the butchered meat of a deer that Martin had killed the previous evening. Shell crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe.

  “Really?”

  “What?” Brooke asked. “You don’t expect me just to lay in bed, do you?”

  “You could let me handle this. Or Julia. Or Caleb. Or anyone.”

  Brooke waved her hand. “Nonsense. Besides, Paul has things taken care of.”

  Shell heard a coo and looked over to see Paul enter the room, holding his newborn daughter. Shell smiled and walked over.

  “Well, good morning, little sweetie,” she said, tickling the baby’s belly.

  The baby cackled, and all three adults in the room laughed. Brooke wiped her hands on the apron and reached out towards her husband. Paul handed Eloise over to her.

  “I think she’s hungry,” Paul said.

  “Well, we can take care of that. Can’t we? Yes, we can.” Brooke smiled and rocked the child. “Oh, yes we can.” She drifted towards the living room. “I’m going to go sit in there where I can be a little more comfortable and feed her. Finish dividing this up if you don’t mind.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Paul said, giving his wife a sarcastic salute.

  Once Brooke had gone into the other room, Paul grabbed a carrot off of the counter and took a bite. He then looked at Shell and winked.

  “Smooth move,” Shell said.

  “Eh, she’ll live. We’ll get more. Speaking of which, I was going to head out and work in the garden for a bit. Wanna come with? We can help Keon out there and make him watch us and feel helpless.”

  Shell laughed. “That sounds great. I just need to go say hi to someone first.”

  “Well, tell him ‘hello’ for me, and let him know that I’m gonna finally beat him in chess later on.”

  “I’ll do that.” Shell smiled and turned to the door.

  “Hey, Shell.”

  She turned around.

  “Thanks again. For everything. With Eloise being born and all, I’ve been so wrapped up in things that I feel like I haven’t had the chance to be alone with you and say thanks.”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” Shell said. “You helped me get my home back. I’d say we’re more than square.”

  Paul smiled, scratching his head and nodding.

  Shell walked off through the back door.

  She ducked under the clothesline full of drying garments and walked to the corner of the house. Two boys came zooming around the corner, nearly knocking her down. Shell threw her back up against the wall, avoiding them. One of them was the boy.

  “Sorry about that, Miss Langford,” Jimmy said.

  “It’s okay,” Shell said, smiling.

  She then turned her attention to the boy. He looked far different now that he was clean. All the dirt on his face had been wiped away, and they’d even found some better clothes for him to wear. With the dirt gone, his cheeks glowed red as he smiled.

  “You having fun?” Shell asked.

  The boy nodded. Then he hugged Shell, burying his head into her stomach and hugging her. Shell hugged him back with one hand and ran her other through his hair.

  “Y’all better be running if you’re back here,” Caleb said from around the corner.

  “The monster!” Jimmy said, grabbing the boy’s hand. “We’ve gotta run!”

  The two boys ran away, and Caleb came around the back of the house. He winked at Shell, then took chase after them.

  Shell laughed as she watched him go after the boys. Then she turned away and started across the property to the next house over.

  Shell walked up the front porch steps of the two-story farmhouse. The home had once belonged to the Richardsons, but that had been years ago. They’d been an elderly couple when the world had changed, and had passed away seven years after. Mr. Richardson had died first, and Mrs. Richardson had lived only about six more weeks after becoming a widow.

  The faded wood slats creaked as Shell went to the door and knocked on it. It hadn’t been closed all the way, and it went ajar on the second knock. She pushed it open further and stepped into the house.

  Looking around, she didn’t see Dylan. He most often sat in the living room, lying back in the recliner with his feet up and looking out the window. Shell had spent several of the last evenings sitting with him. After having spent several days around people, Shell had found it difficult to return back home and live in the house by herself. The group spent most of the days hanging around Shell’s, but retreated to their own homes they’d adopted around town in the evenings. So Shell had began going to Dylan’s each night. They’d talked some, but mostly they’d sat in silence. That was the main reason Shell had spent time there. While she enjoyed Keon’s company on the nights he stayed over, he talked a lot. That was okay, but there were times when she wanted to be in the company of another who just wanted to sit in silence.

  And as she looked around the house now, she noticed the silence enveloping her.

  She walked into the kitchen, and found it was empty. Checking the rest of the downstairs level, she found much of the same. Shell had just seen him from outside of her window. He had to be in the house somewhere.

  She went up the stairs, checking the bathroom first before heading into Dylan’s bedroom. When she passed through the open door, she stopped and stared at the bed.

  Dylan’s hat lay on the center of the bed. A note sat next to it with Shell’s name scribbled on the front.

  She didn’t move. She just stood where she’d stopped and stared at her name. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she picked up the note. She unfolded it.

  Shell,

  * * *

  As you know, I’m not too good with words. Nonetheless, I figured I might try to write something out to you.

  I know you thanked me a lot after I helped you escape from your house. But the truth is that you helped me. I was nothing but a lost soul before we met. While I thought I hid it good, you seemed to see right through me. You were right. I was selfish, and that was all because I was lonely and in a dark place. Much darker than you know and that I let on.

  But I see the light now, and that’s all because of you. I know it might seem strange that I am leaving after I just wrote about how alone I was before we met, but I have some things I just need to do. While there is light in me now, there is also emptiness. I don’t know if it will be filled when I get to where I’m going, but I know that I have to get there to find out.

  Make sure the boy gets the hat. I think it’ll be a good look for him.

  You’re a good friend, Shell. Maybe we’ll cross paths again one day, but whether we do or not, I won’t forget you.

  * * *

  Dylan Farmer

  Shell folded the letter up and clutched it to her chest. When she turned and looked at the hat lying on the bed, tears filled her eyes. She picked it up, then stood and left the room.

  When she walked out the front door, Keon was standing at the bottom of the stairs. The smile on his face disappeared when he saw Shell crying.

  “What’s the matter?”

  His eyes shifted to the hat and the note in her hands.

  “He left, didn’t he?”

  Shell nodded as she walked down the stairs to meet him. Keon wrapped his arms around her.

  “Did he say why?”

  Shell pulled away and looked into Keon’s eyes. She kissed him on the lips, then glanced over at her house.

  The kids had moved back into the front yard n
ow. Julia and Martin had joined Caleb in chasing them around. She looked at her house, where Paul and Brooke sat on the patio swing, him holding Eloise in his arms. She then looked back up at Keon.

  “What do you say we go harvest some veggies for later? I’ll race you.”

  “Haha,” Keon said, shifting his weight as he held onto the banister.

  She smiled as she took his hand into hers. She gestured toward the house, and they walked back there together.

  Shell’s heart now aimed true, and she had vanquished the past. Now it was time to live the life she’d once lost.

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  Afterword

  Thanks for reading Empty World.

  This book has been a passion project I’ve been working on, on and off, for the past year or so, and I’m happy that it’s now available for others to enjoy.

  One of the biggest requests I get from readers is “Write more Empty Bodies!” When I was writing that series, by the time I got to the ending of Adaptation, the second book, I knew what the ending of the six book series was going to be. And I feel like Revelation brought a proper, satisfying conclusion to the series and the characters, so I didn’t want to try to stretch the story of that particular group on any further.

  But another idea began manifesting in my head. I kept wondering what this world would look like 15, or 20, or even 30 years after The Fall happened. What would people be like? How would they be surviving? What would the world look like? Will there still be Empties around?

  And with that, Empty World became a thing, and I started to work on it.

  I hope that you enjoyed revisiting this world with me. I owe a lot to you, the fans of Empty Bodies, as you are a huge reason that I went from a guy working in a warehouse with an idea for a zombie book to someone who is now writing full-time and able to support my family with my books. I sincerely can’t thank you enough.