This Dying World: The End Begins

by Dean James

  “Oh yeah, she’s going to be lots of fun,” he said straightening himself and removing his hands from her body. She stared blankly at the floor, then at me with sorrowful eyes.

  “Keep your hands off her!” I pulled against the tape, but it was too tightly secured.

  “We haven’t decided what to do about these two yet,” he said nodding towards the kids and completely ignoring me. “I like ‘em young, but I have my limits. My brother though, he’ll take ‘em at any age. Who knows, maybe I’ll give it a shot too. Warm meat is getting scarce.” The garage reverberated with Chop’s laugh.

  “Don’t you fucking touch my family!” I growled at him.

  “What? Like this?” Chops laughed as he landed a solid kick to Katie’s leg. She screamed, grabbing at her thigh and balling up into a fetal position on the floor. Jane wrapped her up in her arms as Katie wailed. Abby screamed, fighting against her bonds with renewed vigor.

  “I am going to kill you.”

  My words were ice. I stared into his eyes and spoke slowly, annunciating each syllable so not a single sound was lost on him. For a fleeting moment, something flashed across his face. His smile faded, eyes widened slightly. For the briefest of seconds, I had rattled him.

  “Is that so?” Mutton Chops said, quickly composing himself. “How are you going to do that if you’re dead?” He stepped to me, drawing his revolver as he moved. Whatever fear that was there had dissipated. Our eyes met, and I knew the truth of the situation. I was about to die, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  “I was going to leave you alive. But I think I’m going to have fun with your wife without you,” he said waving his weapon around.

  “You won’t have any fun with her,” I smiled. “You haven’t seen your dick in twenty years, you fat sack of shit. She’ll laugh herself to death before you can touch her.” Hey, when all else fails, sarcasm works. Right?

  That earned me a crack across the face. I could taste the blood, so I spit it out on his shoes. I know it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but I will take small victories whenever I can get them. Even if it earns a bonus punch in the gut thrown in. Which this time, it did. The chair scooted backwards with the force of his blow. The cold barrel of his revolver pressed against my head.

  “First, I’m going to do things to your wife that will make the devil cringe. And when me and my brothers are done passing her around, we’re going to do worse to your daughters. How does that sound tough guy?”

  “Fuck you!” I spat.

  “No. Fuck you,” he replied.

  The deafening shot thundered through the garage. My chair spun as I fell to the cold concrete floor.

  Abby’s scream echoed in my ears.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Is this what it feels like to be one of them? I thought. I was shot in the head, though. How am I back?

  I opened my eyes, and instead of finding my body roaming around the countryside chewing on people bits, I was laying on my back with my arms still duct taped to the chair. Next to me lay the hulking mass of Mutton Chops writhing on the floor. Blood poured from the shattered remains of his now obliterated left knee. He was screaming obscenities that I didn’t even know existed.

  Seizing the opportunity, I spun myself and the chair around and kicked Mutton Chop’s revolver away. The man saw my intent too late. He tried to roll away, but my heel came down on the bridge of his nose before he could move. I felt the cartilage pop as his facial bones caved. He gurgled as blood filled his airway. He rolled on his side, coughing blood onto the floor. I drew my foot back, and drove it straight into his forehead, his head snapped back with an audible crack. His body jerked a few times, and went still.

  An uneasy stillness filled the room. I felt completely exposed, lying on my side still taped to a chair. The bay door still sat wide open, leaving me utterly defenseless against anything that might happen by. Unless Mutton Chops was the world’s worst shot and had suffered the unluckiest ricochet in history, there was still a shooter somewhere nearby.

  “Abby?” I whispered.

  “Dan! You’re alive!” she cried.

  “Shh! Where did that shot come from?” I asked.

  “Listen,” she replied. “Under the car.”

  I held my breath and heard the faint cries that had Abby’s attention. I scooted around to get a better look. There, underneath our car and behind the rear tire lay Alexis, still clutching the AR-15 that had saved my life. Her face was pale, and she was shaking violently.

  “Lexi?” I said softly. “It’s okay Lexi, come on out. He’s not getting back up.”

  “Is…he…dead? Did…I…kill…him?” she asked between sobs. She was breathing so fast that I was concerned that she would hyperventilate.

  “Lexi, you need to calm down and breathe. You didn’t kill him. Come on out and take a breath, you need to relax. But I need you to find something to cut me loose. Can you do that for me?” I tried to be as even toned as I could be. We were in a serious time crunch. I had no idea when the others would be returning, but my gut told me that we needed to be on the road sooner than later.

  She climbed out from under the car, walking stiffly towards the tool bench. She looked very much like one of the undead as her feet shuffled across the dusty floor. She was in shock, and her face didn’t hide it. She took something from the bench and came over to me. She knelt down and cut the tape away with a small utility knife.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered as I took the knife from her hand.

  “What for?” I asked as I tried to work the stiffness out of my arms.

  “For hiding again! For not doing something! For not shooting them when they came in. I was in the bathroom when they opened the door, and I hid! I could have…” she cried before she could finish. Tears rolled down her pale cheek, falling to the floor in huge droplets.

  “Stop that!” I snapped at her. “Never be ashamed for not wanting to shoot someone!”

  “But…” she tried to argue.

  “No buts! You pulled the trigger when you were left with no other choice. You saved us, and you saved your sister again. We made the right choice bringing you with us, even if you can’t eat spaghetti out of a can.”

  “You can’t eat beans either,” she said flatly.

  “I’m taking classes for that. Now, go and be with your sister. Her and Katie both look like they could really use a big sister right about now. Leave the rest to me,” I said, rubbing the top of her head. She went to the kids, sitting cross legged on the floor. Jane and Katie climbed into her lap, laying their heads on her chest.

  “Lexi,” Jane began as she started rubbing her sister’s face. “Don’t cry.” Jane’s tiny voice opened the flood gates, and all of Lexi’s emotions came pouring out in rivers. She hugged the girls close, crying out everything she could cry.

  I gave them their privacy as I cut Abby loose. She sprang from her chair, almost knocking me backwards with her embrace. Her face buried in my chest as her tears flowed. I lifted her face from my chest, and kissed her deeply. Of course it was met with a chorus of “Ewws” from the kids section.

  “You look terrible,” I said to her as we pulled away, my eyes misting over.

  “You should see yourself,” she said smiling.

  “Is it bad?” I asked.

  “Nothing a few rounds of plastic surgery can’t fix,” she said giving my arm a squeeze. I hugged her again, and as I started to pull away, we were surrounded by the rest of our little family. I’m not one for group hugs, but in that case, I let it slide. Yet, even in that moment of warmth, I kept a constant watch on our unconscious captor.

  “I need to get some air. Abby, can you grab the rifle from under the car. Just watch that tub of shit right there. He’s still alive,” I said, turning towards the door.

  “What should I do if he wakes up?” she asked.

  “Aim for his balls. If he moves, make him a eunuch.”

  I grabbed a plastic bag from a work bench before walking out, letting the
sunlight wash over me. The peaceful and calm morning felt surreal with the chaos from the minutes prior. I leaned against the building’s brick wall, breathing in the brisk morning air. As much as I hate cold, it was refreshing.

  I took another deep breath, letting the air escape slowly from my lungs before walking over to a clean spot of snow piled across from where I stood. I filled the bag with as much snow as I could before turning to head back into the garage.

  It was then that a glint of sunlight caught my eye from around the corner of the building. A small spark of hope grew inside me as I went to investigate its source. I almost cried out in joy when I found an ancient green Chevy that had not been sitting there the previous night. Which meant Muttons must have driven it there. Which, more importantly, meant fuel.

  Shielding my eyes I looked through the dusty window into the compartment. I was slightly disappointed that I did not see the keys in the ignition, but I suspected I knew who I could ask for them. The front seat was filled with empty beer cans and junk food wrappers. Cigarette butts were thrown haphazardly on the dashboard, small round burn holes marring the plastic. Blood splatters covered the back seat, including the infant car seat that sat unoccupied.

  Katie was just inside the door, still wrapped up in Lexi’s arms. I unzipped her pajamas to inspect her leg. A mean bruise had already started to form on her thigh, but I didn’t feel anything that might have been broken. She winced at my touch, her jaw shaking as she looked back at me with tears that broke my heart. I packed the snow filled bag against her leg, and zipped up her jammies to hold it in place.

  I was at my boiling point. I marched back to a partially conscious Muttons with murder in my heart. The only thing keeping him alive was the one thing that I needed from him. I knelt down beside him, grabbing his jaw and staring right into his eyes.

  “Where are the keys?” I demanded.

  “What keys? I don’t have any keys,” he actually smiled.

  “You have two eyes, which means you have two more chances to lie to me.” I put my thumb against his right eye with enough pressure to let him know I meant business. “Where are the keys to that green piece of shit outside?”

  “Fuck you!” Blood spittle stained his lips as he spoke.

  “Well, it wasn’t a lie at least,” I said, patting him on his cheek. I made sure he saw my smile as I stood. He watched me as I walked over to the tool bench, opening cabinets and closing them loudly. I whistled a happy tune while I searched, throwing him a wink and a smile every couple of minutes or so.

  I wanted him to be afraid of me. Fear is a wonderful motivator.

  Finally, I found something to suit my needs. Inside a large cabinet in the back corner of the body shop were rows of paints and chemicals. The fumes were overwhelming, and I wondered how anyone could stand to work with them. For now though, I had a different kind of work in mind. I searched through the many different shapes and sizes of cans, until I settled on a small rectangular metal can. I sloshed the liquid around as I strolled back over to Muttons, picking up his revolver from the floor on my way.

  “Abby, put the kids in the car and don’t let them see this. Sing to them, or have them sing. Just make a lot of noise.” She didn’t say a word. Instead, she walked away and rounded up the kids. I waited until I heard the door on our car click shut before I continued.

  “You know,” I started, kneeling beside him again. “Up until this morning, that woman right there would have stopped me. She would have argued that what I am about to do isn’t right. She would try and convince me to walk away and be the better man. She could have saved you.”

  I paused, making sure my words sunk in. With a pop, I opened the lid of the can I had set beside the man. The caustic fumes wafted up around us. His demeanor shifted from smug arrogance to silent trepidation.

  “But now,” I continued. “She has no idea what I have planned, and she couldn’t care less. She is completely okay with whatever I am going to do to you.” I leaned in close enough for him to feel my breath as I whispered to him.

  “You are truly fucked. Now…where are those keys?”

  He tried to roll away, but the click of his revolver’s hammer snapping into place put a stop to it. He was still, terror filled eyes locked on me. I took the can, and poured a small stream of chemical into the gaping wound that was once his knee. He shrieked as the fluid made its way across nerve endings and damaged tissue. His back arched and he slapped the concrete floor as he begged me to stop. I obliged, setting the can by his head.

  “That, you sack of shit, is automotive grade paint thinner. Nasty stuff. I gave you about a tablespoon. This can is half full, and I’ve only started. I know your friends will be coming back. I can either let you rot the way you are now for them to find, or they can find you with your eyes melted from your skull. I’m through asking. The keys! Now!”

  “They’re in my pocket, asshole!” he cried out.

  “Was that so hard?” I asked, pulling the key ring from his pants pocket. “One more question. What did you do to the people who owned that car?” I asked.

  “What are you talking about?” he spat.

  I poured half of the paint thinner into his wound. His screams were near deafening, but if he was looking for pity from me, he found none. He deserved it, and probably much more.

  “We found that car!” he screamed. “It was like that when we found it! I swear to God we didn’t do anything to them! Stop! Please stop!” he cried.

  I didn’t believe him, but I had what I needed from Muttons. I thought about tying him down in the chair he held me in, but it appeared the round that had shattered his knee had also tore off the leg of the chair. That explained how I found my way to the floor with him. I would have to talk to Lexi about her shooting skills.

  “Abby. Come on out, I need you to watch him again,” I called out over his pitiful wails. She stepped out of our Honda, the duty belt I had pilfered earlier hanging from her shoulder. Her rifle was trained on Muttons as she approached.

  “I thought you might want this back,” she said handing me the belt.

  “Aw, and I didn’t get you anything,” I said as I strapped the belt on again, the familiar weight of the gun comfortably hanging from my side once more.

  “Not really a time for jokes, Dan,” she replied. “What now?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “Anyway, I think our friend here may have solved our fuel problem. Muttons was kind enough to bring a car with him, and I think he wants to share it.”

  “Muttons?” Abby looked at me.

  “Yeah. We really haven’t gotten on a first name basis yet.”

  “Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “Are we taking that car then?”

  “No, I’m siphoning the gas. We don’t want to sit in that thing. It’s bad.”

  Abby stared back at me, raising an eyebrow questioningly. I walked away before she could comment. I wanted to spare her the sight of the blood splattered child seat. It was doing enough damage for the both of us in my own mind.

  Sunlight flooded into the garage as I opened the second bay door, wind swirling the ashes of the previous night’s fire into the air. The teddy bear was still on the road, laying there like a silent sentry. In the bright sun, I could see the dried blood that had caked on to its light tan fur. The road itself was coated with the blood and viscera left behind by the undead parade. I could still pick up the faint smell of death on the wind.

  The stale odor of beer and cigarette smoke permeated the car. It would have reminded me of an old tavern, if not for the scent of blood. In its prime, the Chevy would have been a monster on the road, but its best days were behind it. Age and rust would soon wither this classic away. Given the state of things, the world would not be that far behind.

  I backed up to the open door, assuring a short walk between the two vehicles. My thought was to be out of there within a few minutes. Something seemed off though. I could see Muttons in the rear view mirror watching the car as I backed up. Had his face not been so mangl
ed, I would swear he was cracking a smile. I shut the engine off, my unease building as I stared at him.

  The first thump I heard I dismissed as the clanking of an old car showing its age. More thuds began to emanate from the trunk, and I knew something was terribly amiss. I got out, making my way to the back of the car when I heard the muted moan of the dead. Muttons laughed as the mournful groans from inside the trunk increased.

  “Sounds like I broke my toys again!” he laughed. “I think they might have gone bad!”

  Drawing my gun, I carefully popped the trunk open, knocked backwards by the twisted horror within. Two naked girls, probably still in their early teens, lay restrained in the trunk. They were in fetal position, their hands bound in front of them. Tape encircled their heads, holding balled up cloth in their mouths. I saw no injury, no bite marks, no trauma, only the cloudy eyes of the dead staring back at me. He had left them to suffocate and freeze to death in the dark and cramped trunk.

  I couldn’t speak. I knew he was an animal, but I did not expect to come face to face with this. His deep laughter seemed to echo inside my head as I stared at the teens who would probably still be alive had they not met the bleeding pig at our feet. That was until his laugher ended abruptly, and with a heavy thud.

  “You son of a bitch!” Abby shouted as she unleashed a vicious kick that sent his right and left testicles on separate vacations. His bloodied and mangled face twisted in agony as his hands shot from nursing his knee to cupping his groin. Yet, between breaths, his insane laughter persisted.

  I closed the trunk. Abby watched the madman as I siphoned the precious fuel into a can I found in the garage. It took two trips, and at least one big nasty mouthful of gas to completely drain the Chevy of its reserve. But in the end, our Honda purred to life once more. I pulled out into the sunlight, warmth flowing from the vents and into the cabin. The kids had huddled under a blanket with Lexi who was busying herself massaging Katie’s bruising leg.