This Dying World: The End Begins

by Dean James

  The water was only slightly cooler than the room, but it was wonderful. The sticky paste on the roof of my mouth washed away as I drank. The fire in my throat cooled as the liquid sloshed its way down. I was amazed how something as simple as a glass of water could make me feel a thousand times better.

  That was, until it hit my stomach. At first the water was comforting as it hit my gut. But then it revolted at the sudden assault. My midsection cramped, causing me to double over in bed as I held my aching gut.

  “That hurt?” Rosa asked, crossing her arms at me.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Good. Next time you will listen to me.”

  “Not likely,” Abby chimed in with a chuckle.

  “Men never do listen, do they?” Rosa smiled at Abby.

  “Especially this one,” Abby laughed.

  “Your bedside manners suck,” I said to the two of them.

  “Keep talking like that, and I’ll tell everyone about that Hello Kitty tattoo you have on your crotch,” Rosa winked at Abby.

  “I do not!” I protested.

  “I won’t deny it,” Abby said.

  “What the hell?” I lay my head back as I nursed my midsection. I knew better than to fight the inevitable. With two women ganging up on me, and Abby being one of them, I didn’t stand a chance. Better to live and fight another day.

  “Now why don’t you get some rest?” Rosa said. “Chris is pacing a hole in the floor waiting to get back to his window so he’ll be up here in a bit.”

  “Where’s Katie? I want to see her soon.”

  “She’s fine, but get some rest first,” Abby said as she kissed my forehead. “You don’t need her jumping on you right now. You’re still kind of a mess.”

  I didn’t want to admit it, but Abby was right. I had not realized how exhausted I had become as we talked. I didn’t want to sleep again, especially after being out of commission for so long. My body had other ideas, however. Healing from a gunshot wound apparently took a lot more energy than your average paper cut. My eyelids felt like sandbags, and they were closing whether I wanted them to or not.

  “Rosa,” I said as I felt myself slipping away.

  “Yeah?” she said as she was exiting the room. She stopped in the doorway, her head peaking around towards me.

  “Thank you. And please, thank Joe for me.”

  “When you can get up and walk again, you can thank him yourself. He’s really been worried about you.” Rosa popped out of the room without another word.

  “Go to sleep Dan. I love you,” Abby said as she slipped out the door behind Rosa.

  “I lohh you chooo”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  It was several days before I had the strength to get out of bed and move around. I passed the time chatting with whoever happened to be on watch at the window. That was whenever Rosa was not in the room making me jump through hoops like a trained seal. I think the woman took some sadistic pleasure in forcing me to get up and move around while I barely had enough energy to sit and piss. Now, for all you guys who are reaching out to snatch away my man card, you get shot in the chest and see if you don’t sit down to go.

  The kids came into the room often enough to stave off the boredom. I guess they decided I was a captive audience as long as I was tethered to the bed. I loved every minute of it though. I got to spend all the time I wanted with them, and it gave the others the time they needed to secure the property. No one would really tell me what that entailed exactly. Whenever I would ask, I was reminded that I was injured and needed to rest. From the confines of the bed the work sounded impressive.

  The routine would change suddenly, however. A gunshot from anywhere on the property would bring everyone running to the house. Windows would be shuttered (yes, the house was old enough to still have shutters), the rooms would grow silent, and everyone inside would hope and pray the danger would pass. But as the days wore on the moments of silent fear grew more frequent. It was in those long moments that I came to my decision.

  “We can’t stay here much longer,” I told Chris as he took his seat by the bedroom window.

  He picked up his block of wood, turning it over in his hands before working it over again with his pocket knife. His eyes were sunken and heavy. Exhaustion was written all over his face. He took a breath, sighing deeply before answering.

  “Why would you say that?” he asked, looking as if he already knew the answer.

  “I may not be able to see outside, but I can count,” I started.

  “You sure about that?” he interrupted. His attempted humor fell flat.

  “Anyway,” I said sarcastically. “The first day I woke up, you had to take one or two shots a day. I’m guessing you weren’t taking potshots at squirrels.”

  “I would if I saw any. We haven’t seen any around since that horde left.” He hunched over in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. His head hung low, eyes fixed to a rusty colored spot on the top of his tan boot.

  “Exactly my point,” I said. “They eat and move, and since they don’t stop eating, they won’t stop moving. Can you imagine what it’s going to be like when they start wandering out of the cities? Chicago alone has over three million people! What if even a quarter of that number came this way? We wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “We don’t know how many of them there are.” Chris raised his head enough to look me in the eye. “Maybe a good number of people survived and got out before it went to shit.” He turned his attention to the spot again, scraping at it with the blade of his knife.

  “You and I both know that isn’t true. We both heard the news, you saw it on TV! The cities are gone. We’re on our own.”

  That was the truth of our situation. There was no rescue coming. There was no plan to beat back this invading army. If there were any holdouts of the government or military left anywhere, they were busy saving their own asses. We had to fend for ourselves.

  “Look, let’s say ninety percent of people did get out of the city,” I continued. “That would still leave thousands that didn’t. Thousands of those things, walking and eating. Combine that with the cities closer to you. Janesville, Madison, Milwaukee, Rockford…each with their own horde looking for food. All it takes is one of these things to remember farms equal food, and we’ll be swimming in them all over again.”

  “They’re mindless,” Chris said with a tinge of irritation. “You’re talking like they are still living thinking beings!”

  “The night I held up in the body shop, I watched them. They weren’t just meandering around, they were hunting. There’s enough thought in there to know not to scare away prey. It may be rudimentary, but some part of their memory is still there!” I argued. “Hell, it might just be a primal hunting instinct, but they do hunt and that will lead them right to your doorstep!”

  “Bullshit!” he shot back. “They could just keep walking on that road out there until they hit the Atlantic!”

  “How many shots have you taken today? Eight? Nine? It’s only noon! I’ve heard at least as many from the other side of the house! How many of those creatures were just walking by? Things are getting worse and you know it!” I snapped.

  “Oh, hey!” Matt walked in, suddenly looking as if he wished he hadn’t. He carried a tray with a large steaming bowl and a bottle of water resting on it. “Umm, I can leave if you want. I just brought lunch. I don’t want to interrupt.”

  “It’s fine,” Chris huffed as he stood from his chair. “You take over. I’m going for a walk. We’ll finish this conversation later.” Chris tossed the rifle on the bed and stormed out without another word.

  “What was that about?” Matt asked as he set the tray on my lap. He took a seat by the window, picking up the rifle and resting it on his lap.

  “Difference of opinions on future endeavors,” I said looking down into the steaming bowl. “Pork and beans again?” I asked, changing the subject. “I know Rosa wanted me to fart before she would let me get up and move around before. But come on, I
’m burning holes through Chris’ mattress.”

  “I hear ya,” Matt said chuckling. “Our stores are getting a bit low, so the menu has been limited.”

  “Didn’t I come here with a car full of food?” I asked, shoveling a spoonful into my mouth. Although not my favorite meal by far, I did enjoy the idea of drilling a few more gas bombs into my brother’s mattress. “I know most of it got covered with some serious vileness, but a lot of it was in plastic.”

  “The zombies tore though anything meat related that wasn’t in a can. Everything else got coated in zombie splat. I don’t know about you, but I like my produce without dead people glaze,” he replied.

  “Well at least something was salvageable I guess,” I said as I stirred the beans around. “How bad was the car?”

  Matt’s face twisted before giving me a sideways glance. “If I were you, I wouldn’t talk about that around Abby. I asked about it when I first got here. I’m glad Mark was between us. For a second, I thought Abby was actually going to shoot me.”

  “What did you say?” I asked, chuckling though another bite.

  “I asked if her driving finally caught up with her.”

  I spit half chewed beans across the bed. “And you lived?!” I laughed until I hurt, which didn’t take long. “If I were you, I’d sleep with one eye open for the next year!”

  “Way ahead of you, dude,” Matt chuckled as he grabbed a tissue from the makeup table. “Wow, Lexi was right. You do have an eating disorder with beans.” He tossed a couple tissues over to me, looked over the scene, and tossed a few more.

  “Oh she said that, huh? Ask her about the Spaghetti-O incident,” I said, scraping the last of the beans from the bowl. I finished the last of my water in two gulps before setting the tray to the side.

  “Level with me Matt. How bad is it out there? I’ve been cooped up in this bed too long and I’m getting antsy. I know everyone is trying to not stress me out, but I need to be in the loop.”

  Matt shook his head before putting his eye to the rifle scope. He slowly swept left to right, and back again. When he was finally satisfied that there was no immediate threat, he sat back in the chair looking down at the floor. His eyes moistened as he took a deep breath. He looked back out the window, and I caught the faintest downturn at the corner of his lips.

  “It’s not as bad as Chicago was,” he said finally. “I barely got out of there with my ass in one piece. My family though…they…my dad…”

  “I’m sorry man. I didn’t want to open wounds.”

  “It’s cool,” he said after a few deep breaths. “Did you know my dad tried out for the White Sox?”

  “No kidding? I’m surprised. I mean he was such a huge Cubs fan,” I replied, wincing as the word was escaped my lips. He either didn’t hear it, or decided to let it go.

  “Why do you think he loved the Cubs so much?” he chuckled. “They’re a better team anyway.”

  “He was a better man for it too,” I said.

  “The Sox cut him, but he never lost his swinging arm.” Matt’s demeanor sank again. “That stupid van wouldn’t start, as usual. The noise that thing made brought them swarming to us like stink on shit. My dad brought his bat with him out to the car, and he opened the door swinging. He shouted for us to run. We did. The last time I saw my dad, he opened up a six-pack of whoop ass on those things. He had one hell of a swing.”

  “Sox should have kept him,” I said somberly.

  “Nahh. White Sox suck,” Matt said, glancing at me over his shoulder. “I didn’t see where the rest of my family went. I don’t know how they would have gotten away from that mob. Hell, I don’t even know how I made it. I just ran.”

  “How’d you get out of the city?”

  “The bus.”

  “Run that by me again,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yup! The good ole Chicago Transit Authority,” he announced.

  “Bullshit!” I came back. “There is no way you are going to tell me the busses were running during all that chaos.”

  “Didn’t say they were. The driver wasn’t using it anymore though.”

  “Wait. You drove?” I said not even trying to hide my astonishment.

  The fact that Matt drove anything should both astonish and frighten any mortal man. Matt doesn’t drive. In fact I’m sure the federal government has put a lifetime ban on Matt ever getting behind the wheel. He will usually tell you himself that he won’t drive because he suffers from an extreme case of acute road rage.

  “Well, if I hit anyone now I would be doing a public service,” he shrugged.

  “Of course there is the fact that he almost drove through the front of my damn house!” Mark announced as he strode into the room, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. “He plowed through a swarm to get to my front door. It’s a miracle the bus started again.”

  “Well, I could have left your ass there,” Matt replied. “I mean, you looked good as a roof ornament.”

  “A roof ornament you say?” I raised an eyebrow at Mark. “Do tell.”

  “So here I come driving up Mark’s street…” Matt started, a broad smile appearing across his face.

  “If you call what you were doing driving,” Mark interrupted. “It looked more like bumper cars to me.”

  “Okay, so a few parked cars got in my way. They should know better than to park where I am driving. Anyway, I get to Mark’s house, and there he is sitting on his roof in his WWE boxers and a Hawaiian shirt, stretched out on a lawn chair smoking a cigar and drinking a beer.”

  “Only you, Mark,” I smiled.

  “Oh, that’s not even the best of it,” Matt chuckled. “I pulled in front of the house, and I’m expecting him to leap onto the top of the bus so we can get the hell out of Dodge. Instead, Mark yells at me to hold on, walks to the other side of his roof and proceeds to piss on the zombies.”

  “They’re lucky I didn’t have tacos for dinner,” Mark said as he leaned back on the bed.

  “To top it off,” Matt continued. “Zombies are surrounding the bus, and he shouts down for me wait another second. He tosses his lawn chair down to the roof of the bus, grabs his beer cooler, and finally leaps down to the bus himself. Then he asks me why I’m taking so long to leave!”

  “HEY!” Mark shot up, pointing a finger at both of us. “I still have that lawn chair,” he nodded as he smiled. Tears rolled from our eyes as we all laughed. My chest hurt, but it was worth it. I had my friends back, and in a world where the dead are rising and looking at me as a hot lunch, that was more than I had a right to hope for.

  “Besides,” Mark spoke up as we caught our breath. “If I didn’t grab my road beers, I wouldn’t be able to share these.” From his deep pockets, Mark produced three bottles of amber heaven. “Drink up while they’re still cold, there’s no more left, and I have no intention of standing outside while they chill again.”

  “How’d you get this past Rosa and Abby?” I asked, taking my first sip of bottled joy. Not only had Mark delivered cold beer in the middle of the zombie apocalypse, but he also managed to procure one of my favorite micros, Spotted Cow. It was a local brew, made in the heartland of Wisconsin. Mark had introduced me to it years ago, and it had quickly become one of my favorites.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. Drink up and we’ll talk,” Mark answered, lifting his own bottle to his lips.

  As we enjoyed our beers, they filled me in about their bus ride from Chicago. They spent days on the road, most of the time looking for fuel to keep the behemoth running. They thought often of abandoning the bus for smaller and more fuel efficient transportation, but they always came back to the same conclusion. The bus was a rolling fortress, and they could modify it to withstand a small horde. So during the day, they would drive cautiously across the state, and at night they worked to fortify their ride.

  “I have to see this thing,” I said as I tried to will the last bit of moisture out of the bottle. I was no lightweight when it came to beer, but recovering from a gunshot wo
und on a steady diet of canned food and water had my alcohol tolerance down to that of a 5 year old. My head was much lighter than it should have been, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I slurred a word or two.

  “You will,” Matt again swept the land outside with the rifle. “Joe has it in the barn right now. He said he wanted to add some finishing touches to it before its road ready again.

  “So Mark,” I crossed my arms behind my head, lying back and enjoying my slight buzz. “How did you get those bottles of liquid gold past my wardens?”

  “Oh, that was easy,” he said with a mischievous smile. “They agreed that if you felt well enough to finish that beer, you are well enough to get up and start helping around here. Get some rest, you’re on watch tonight.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  A light snow had begun to fall as I took my place at the window. I was in the same room, but the change in scenery from the bed to the window made a world of difference to me. The moonlit fields glistened in the new fallen snow. The night was peaceful and still. The air even smelled clean. I was amazed at how accustomed I had become to the ever prevalent stench of death so quickly. I didn’t even mind the breeze blowing through the open window. The cold was actually refreshing.

  I propped the old bolt action rifle between my legs. I was with Chris when he purchased the Mosin-Nagant from a pawn shop in downstate Illinois. I could not understand his fascination with the decades old weapon, until I fired it. It weighed more than any rifle I had ever fired, and kicked like a pissed off mule. But the accuracy and range silenced any doubts that I had.

  Since then, Chris had added a scope and modified a tripod for it. I wasn’t sure if he made those changes before or after the need for everyone to become an expert marksman, but I was happy for them all the same. I was not looking forward to firing the weapon though. The kick was sure to make my shoulder unhappy again.

  I had not seen any unwelcome visitors since I began my first watch. In fact, I had really seen nothing at all, which was a strange feeling to get used to. Even with the seclusion, the road just beyond the trees would normally be well travelled. Large tractor trailers would traverse the country roads, carrying farm equipment or animals, even foodstuffs on their way to market. The road, much like the rest of the world, was dead and silent.