State of Grace

by M. Lauryl Lewis

“How many are there?”

  “Three.”

  “Just take one. We need to leave something in case anyone else needs it later.”

  As he walked away, I grabbed a collapsed bag that was labeled “women’s medium.” I also tucked a bag of what I assumed was fish jerky under the crook of my arm, and filled my other hand with a can of mixed nuts.

  It took us just under ten minutes to find clothing, dress, wrap Sam’s wrist, and pack. By then the dead were too near for my comfort. The only shoes I found were a size too large for Sam, but better than being barefoot. I helped put them on his feet while Gus bandaged his hand and fashioned a sling. He was clearly still in pain but said the pills were beginning to help. The dead opossum hung from Gus’ belt, tied shut in a plastic bag. We slipped out the front of the cellar, into daylight. The massive devastation from the tornado was visible to us at last. The old farmhouse in the distance was flattened except for one corner, which leaned treacherously to one side. Circular patterns were etched into the now-wet ash. Long shadows pointed westward as the sun was still trying to take its place in the sky.

  “Which way?” Gus asked.

  “North-east. There’s a small church not too far out of our way. We need to get out of this muck.”

  “I’m down for that,” replied Gus.

  “There they are,” I interrupted. “Look on that ridge.”

  In the distance, to the south, was a huge line of crowd of the dead clumsily making their way toward us. Their path was downhill and several fell on their way down, sliding and rolling sloppily.

  “It’s the sludge,” said Gus. “It’s slowing them down.”

  ***

  We moved forward, taking care to not slip. We had speed on our side, but the slurry still made the going difficult. The only blessing was a lack of dust in the air, allowing us to breathe without filtering the air. As the sun grew high in the sky, the warmth slowed us down.

  “How much farther?” I asked, my throat dry.

  “Just about another mile,” said Sam, a bit out of breath. “Let’s keep going. We can rest when we get there.”

  “Right,” I said simply, not wanting to talk.

  ***

  That last mile somehow turned into ten. Thanks to the sun, the sludge that resulted from the storm dried; caked and forming cracks, it resulted in a soft crunching sound as we walked. The smell of sun mixed with that of burnt earth and putrefaction. The church never intersected with our path. Sam finally announced we were off course when we happened upon the outskirts of Wenatchee. While the landscape was alien as a result of Mother Nature’s wrath, he recognized a McDonald’s and gas-station combination. The surrounding buildings were in ruins, half of them burnt and the rest claimed by the elements after being left exposed by looters.

  “This is farther than our group’s ventured on supply runs. We don’t have a safe house this end of town. I can’t guarantee this building’s clear of the dead.”

  “What’d you estimate the distance is from here to your people?” asked Gus.

  “We’ve gone farther east than I meant to. So another half day at most.”

  “Let’s get inside. There’s Roamers nearby,” I said.

  I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered, despite the heat from the sun.

  “I think our best bet is the gas station. It’s a lot smaller than the McDonald’s,” offered Sam.

  “Ayup. I agree. Plus, the McDonald’s has a pane of glass busted out.”

  I stepped forward first, wanting to get out of view of any dead eyes that might be watching. The front door of the gas station was crackled as if someone had tried to break in but failed. I pushed on the horizontal bar to find the door locked tight. Alerted by the sudden sounds of my attempted entry, a large rodent scurried across the floor inside. Bits of wrappers and food littered the floor, as well as rodent feces and areas of brown liquid. As I peered through the glass door, I realized there was movement everywhere. The place was infested with rats. They had claimed the small convenience store for their own and were feasting on old snack food like Templeton at a carnival.

  “It’s a no-go,” I said ominously.

  “What’s up?” asked Gus as he and Sam got closer. I noticed he was supporting Sam, who looked like he was ready to pass out.

  “Rats. Everywhere.”

  “I don’t think we have much choice,” said Sam.

  “There’s too much rat crap in there. It’s a cesspool of filth,” I said, looking at Gus.

  “Sam, is there anything else close by?”

  “Around the corner. A library.” He sounded out of breath.

  “Let’s head out,” said Gus.

  ***

  The library was still standing, despite most of the rest of the block having been burnt. Set back from the main street, it was a small building at just one level. Like everything else, the lawn had gone wild and shrubs had dried from lack of human attention. We cautiously approached the front door of the structure and found it locked.

  “Sam, we need to leave you here while we look for a way in,” I said. “We won’t be long.”

  Gus and I helped him slide to the ground and he leaned against the entryway. He nodded his head briefly. I looked at Gus, and knew by his strained face that he was worried about Sam.

  We left our packs with our new friend and proceeded around the closest corner. The windows along the side of the building were tall and narrow and not designed to open. There were two single metal doors on the backside of the building but both were locked and opened outward with concealed hinges.

  Gus leaned down and picked up a river rock that appeared to have been left out as a door prop. “Stand back,” he instructed me.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Breaking in.”

  I stepped aside and he hurled the rock at one of the narrow windows. The shattering glass was astonishingly loud. I held my breath, waiting for the dead to pour out of the opening. Stale air escaped the long-closed-up building. The air was rank of mildew and damp paper and made me cough.

  “I need to get back to Sam. Leaving him alone like he is feels wrong.”

  “Be careful. I’ll go in and unlock the front door for you. If I need to find a key, it may take a while. If there’s any trouble and I haven’t shown up, head back here and come in through the window, even if it means leaving him.”

  “I can’t just leave Sam,” I said.

  “Yes, you can. If it means your staying alive.”

  “Just...hurry.”

  He leaned down and kissed me softly on the lips. Heat radiated from his skin and his familiar smell made my heart skip a beat. I wrapped my arms around him and returned the kiss. I broke the embrace and turned to re-join Sam. Stopping to look back at Gus, I said simply “be safe.”

  He nodded once and disappeared through the broken window.

  By the time I reached Sam, he was slumped to the side and sleeping. I was beginning to wonder if there was more wrong with him than a broken wrist. I crouched down next to the man and unzipped the backpack. I rummaged through and quickly found a full bottle of water. I drank half quickly before returning the lid and tucking it back in with other supplies. While I was sure it had been less than a minute since I left Gus, it felt like forever. I watched in the distance for any signs of danger. My senses were off, making me unsure if the occasional ache in my hip or ripple of electricity deep within my mind were the dead nearby or not. Shadows began to play tricks with my eyes. A breeze picked up and the vegetation surrounding us began to dance erratically. An old oak tree, still bare of leaves for the season, loomed in the distance. Its branches reached out like skeletal fingers and two large knots halfway up the trunk looked like old eyes that had seen many secrets over the years. I kept my gaze focused on those wooden snarls, allowing my peripheral vision to watch for any subtle movements. I was sure something ran by on the left. Maybe a coyote or a feral dog or cat. A bird chattering in a nearby shrub suddenly fell silent. The only sound was the whisper of th
e wind, which faded suddenly. The stillness that fell around us was alarming. I finally moved my eyes toward the last movement I had seen, finding nothing unusual.

  “Sam,” I whispered, hoping to wake him.

  I didn’t want to take my eyes off the backdrop, so reached blindly toward him until I found his shoulder.

  “Sam, wake up.”

  I felt his arm tense.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “The library. Gus is inside – he should be over to unlock the door any minute. Stay awake, and stay quiet. Something feels off.”

  “Talk to me,” he said.

  “It’s too quiet. The birds stopped chirping and I swear I saw something run to the north.”

  The sinking feeling in my belly grew and I wished that Gus would hurry.

  “Maybe we should get to the end of the building. Gus broke a window. We can get in there,” I said, my voice even quieter than before.

  “I can feel them,” Sam whispered.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “It’s in my back. Like electricity going up and down my spine.”

  He wasn’t making sense. As far as we knew, he wasn’t infected. Or hadn’t been.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Don’t gotta convince me,” he replied.

  I stood up, pulling Sam with me. The stillness and silence that surrounded us broke suddenly. A very small figure darted amongst the ruins of a park, ducking behind shrubbery. A giggle echoed, making the hair on the nape of my neck stand on end. I tugged on Sam’s arm, encouraging him to follow me. We left our pack in a heap in the ground to save time. As soon as we left the limited shelter of the entryway, another figure flitted in the distance. I already knew what they were.

  “Sam, listen carefully. Don’t look them in the eyes.”

  “Why?” he asked as we began to move the length of the building, our backs against the brick face.

  “They’re monsters. They’ll take away your will to move if you look them in the eyes.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  Not daring to take my eyes away from the overgrown park, I winced when my still-healing shoulder collided with a downspout. More giggling rang out as one of the dead began singing Itsy Bitsy Spider Ran up the Waterspout. How fitting. The singing was soon joined by a little boy’s voice calling out... “Molly...come out and play! Molly, Molly, Moll-ly, dead and burnt Moll-ly!”it chanted, mocking me.

  “Shut up,” I grumbled under my breath.

  “What?” asked Sam.

  I shook my head side to side. “I’ll explain later. Just...”

  My voice broke off when the sound of a little girl screaming cut through the heavy air that surrounded us. Sam fidgeted.

  “From the right,” he whispered. “You head to the window; I’ll see if I can help her.”

  I grabbed onto his good arm. “No. It’s not human.”

  “It sounds human. If there’s any chance...” he said, pleading with me to listen.

  “Molly -Molly- Moll-ly! Molly Molly, dead and gone! Moll-ly buried under some holly!”

  This time it was a girl’s voice.

  “There’s no chance. We have to get inside,” I urged.

  He looked at me for a painfully long moment before deciding to humor me. With a single nod, we turned the corner and continued to work our way to the window that would lead to Gus and, hopefully, safety. The occasional giggle rang out as shadows in the distance came to life. They seemed to be playing some twisted game of hide and seek.

  “Sam, stop.” I held a hand out as warning. “They’re not going to let us get to the window. Gus should have opened the front door or come out by now.”

  “What should we do?” he whispered back to me.

  “I’m not sure. These children – monsters – are playing some fucked up game. I’m not sure why they’re hiding. I’ve never seen them do that before; usually they come out and do their mind-fuck thing.”

  “We should keep going,” he suggested.

  “They don’t want us to,” I said under my breath. “That’s what it is. They don’t want us to go inside.”

  I looked at my companion, who was closely watching the area across the street.

  “Sam, inside, now! Run!”

  We turned and ran toward the broken window. It was only twenty feet away, give or take. Our footfalls were loud on the pavement. More shadows came to life, finally revealing the monsters that hid around us. There were so many of them; more than I had seen gathered at once. The tallest of the dead children stood in front, as if guarding the smaller ones. It was clear now why they had been hesitant to show themselves. Their perfect little faces were no longer intact. Their youthful disguises had finally succumbed to the effects of decay. Ponytails and braids were disheveled and one of the boys in the front of the group was missing the skin from the entire left side of his face. At least seven sets of dead eyes stared at us from across the street. I knew there were many more eyes upon us, still out of our sight.

  My head began throbbing as we approached a locked door that stood between us and the broken window. I looked back toward the crowd of rotting children. They were following us, but at a slow pace.

  “They’re herding us,” said Sam.

  “I know.”

  I needed time to think. Time we didn’t have.

  I could feel Gus in my core. He was near and I knew he was there at the window waiting. Along with the warmth of his soul, I felt urgency in his mind. Clearly, he knew something we didn’t.

  “Sam, faster!” I yelled.

  The children stopped in their tracks, but for such a brief moment had I blinked I may have missed it. I picked up speed as they rushed forward. I knew they would be fast, but a quick look back showed them moving at alarming speed. I didn’t have time to look for Sam, so trusted that he was right behind me. I didn’t slow down till I got to the window, knowing even a split second could mean the difference between life and death. As I neared the window ledge, I gripped the edge with both hands. Pain seared my hands where broken glass gouged them. Gus was there to grab me. As he hastily pulled me through the opening, we fell to the floor. I rolled to the side, focusing my eyes back on the open window. The boy with only part of his face was already more than halfway through. His right forearm caught on a shard of glass. As the fragment bit into his rotting flesh, a foul odor rushed inward. I jumped to my feet and rushed forward in an attempt to push the creature back outside.

  Empty eyes stared back at me. The creature opened its mouth and snarled. Its lips, or what was left of them, twisted awkwardly. A third of his mouth was gone, clearly showing a yellow and dried skull and broken teeth still clinging to jawbone. The opposite side sported dry and cracked skin that looked painful. He smelled unusual, of rot and sickly sweet flowers. The ugly snarl turned into an even uglier attempt at a smile. The other children hummed in the background as if taunting us. I didn’t see Sam anywhere. Before I could do much harm to the dead boy, Gus leapt in front of me and shoved the creature hard.

  “Help me move the book case!” he yelled as the dead juvenile fell backwards into the emaciated and decaying arms of his companions.

  I looked at Gus briefly. His left cheek was bleeding from a wound that ran from the middle of his cheek to near the corner of his mouth, just above his beard-line. He was straining against a nearby bookshelf, attempting to slide it in front of the broken window. I rushed forward to assist him, nearly tripping over my own feet as I passed the commotion at the window. The boy with half a face was already back on his feet, now joined by a girl who wore a mask of rot and maggots. Her left eye had been eaten away, leaving only a putrid socket crusted in black and brown and green. My heart was pounding as I stood next to Gus and helped push the shelf. It was heavy and my sore shoulder protested loudly.

  “As soon as we have the sons of mother fuckers blocked out, head to the door behind the main desk,” grunted Gus.

  “Sam...”

  “We can’t do anythin
g for him,” said Gus quickly.

  I knew he was right.

  The shelf finally budged and began to slide. It almost fell forward, but Gus reacted quickly enough to tip it back up. It made a resounding thud when it crashed back against the dead who were still making an effort to climb inside. I felt the anger of the dead. They had an innocence to their minds. They were angry that we were slipping from their grip. They had walked away from the one who was in charge of them. Shreds of their memories crept into my head. They had been taken care of all this time, by an old woman who was neither Roamer nor Runner nor Alive. She was something we had yet to encounter. That fact worried me the most. They had feared her, and had strived to be perfect for her. In the end, their hunger for fresh flesh had won out. They waited until their numbers grew large enough, and then overtook her. In the end, the creature was dismembered by the dead children. The images that flashed through my mind were disturbing and my stomach reeled.

  “Zo, the shelf’s not gonna hold. Get to the door behind the desk!”

  I knew from his tone and his rudimentary emotions that he meant for me to get to safety while he stayed behind.

  “Not without you!” I yelled.

  “One of us has to make it back to Hope,” he said as he strained to hold the shelf up with his back.

  “Then let’s secure the shelf and both make it out,” I said, my voice filling with fear and anger.

  “We have nothing to tie it down, darlin’. No way to secure it.”

  He looked at me with wide eyes. His body jolted from the dead fighting against him.

  The cracking of gunfire outside made me jump. There were at least two different guns firing, if not three. Gus and I looked at each other without speaking. The shreds of memories inside my mind, the ones not belonging to me, slowed down. My soul could feel each of their lives as the undead twinkled out one by one. By the time it was over, which couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes, I was exhausted. The gunfire ended abruptly. I fell to my knees and looked up at Gus. He was still standing with his back to the shelf but his posture was more relaxed. He held a finger up to his lips, encouraging me to stay quiet. Having no issues with that, I nodded.