Born In The Apocalypse (Book 3): Jericho

by Joseph Talluto

  Born in the Apocalypse

  Book III

  “Jericho”

  By Joseph Talluto

  Copyright 2017 by Joseph Talluto

  Chapter 1

  “No one who ever went over ever came back.”

  Those words were the only thing I could think of as I stared up at the expanse of concrete in front of me. I put a tentative hand out to the wall, not really believing it, then jerked my hand away as I realized it truly was there and I was on the wrong side of it.

  Every story I had ever heard about the other side of the wall came flooding back. Everything my dad had ever told came right to the front of the line of my imagination. Hordes of Trippers, devastated cities, survivors running scared ahead of the Trippers, fortified towns falling to teeth and nails.

  All of the scenarios that played out in my head at that moment had me reaching a single conclusion: I was a dead man.

  I took stock of what I had, and the list wasn’t great. I had my Colt, my knife, and a few gold and silver coins hidden in my gun belt. I had the clothes on my back, and my hat. That was it.

  “How in the name of all that’s Holy do I get back there?” I asked myself aloud, stepping back to look at the wall. The land was clear directly in front of the edifice, and there were no trees that grew within fifteen feet. The grass was low and even, like it was cut specifically to keep it low. That struck me as very odd, and I bent down to take a look at the grass. The edge of the blades was severed neatly, and as I ran my hand through the grass, small pieces jumped up in the air. That was weird. This grass had been cut, and recently.

  None of that made sense. Why the heck would anyone want to keep grass a certain height, and more importantly, who would waste time cutting grass near a wall? The Trippers would be all over anything like that. Maybe it was cut a long time ago and just stayed this height. Right now, that was the only thing I could think of.

  I looked at the wall of trees and brush ahead of me, and realized that was probably my best hope for survival. Trippers didn’t do all that great with brush and trees, not typically looking where they walked. I grabbed up my hat and ducked into the woods.

  I knew the outer brush would not be the same once I got under the canopy. That was the first thing my dad taught me about the woods. They usually looked like they were impenetrable, but once you got past the outer edge, the brush under the trees was usually very thin.

  It was the same here. The trees were young, but old enough to cross limbs and create an overhead blanket of green. The trees were probably fifteen to twenty years old. That green was turning red, brown, and yellow, but I didn’t have time to admire the view. My thoughts were strictly survival right now. I needed to find some kind of secure place to spend the night. I needed to find a source of food, and a source of water. Right now, I had no idea where to find any of that. I could create a shelter from the trees, but no Tripper would be stopped by it. I could sleep up in the trees, but I ran the risk of waking up to a rather unpleasant breakfast committee. My best bet right now was to keep going, and hope I might come across some kind of shelter or house or something. I mean, the world had towns and cities before the Trippers came in Illinois.

  I had gone for about fifty yards in the woods when I heard a strange sound behind me. It was a buzzing noise, like a wasp stuck inside a drain pipe. It faded and expanded, and reached both a high pitch and then a low one. I froze in place, not knowing what that sound was. But as I listened, it seemed like it was flying above me.

  I stayed put, keeping myself pressed up against a tree with my head level. I was grateful my coat was dark and my hat was, too.

  Something flew overhead, and before I realized it, I had my hand on my gun. Whatever it was, it sounded angry and dangerous. I waited for a long time, and I was never more grateful than I was at that moment that my father had taught me to be a patient hunter. I could wait for hours, and since I had no idea what sort of nastiness was flying around, I wasn’t going to move.

  A few minutes later, the buzzing seemed to move away towards the east, and I was glad to see it gone. I had never heard of anything like that before, and I certainly did not want to meet it again. My head filled with strange ideas, like giant wasps and other things, but not even in my imagination could I figure out what that might have been.

  I moved on, going deeper into the woods. The trees were mostly maple, with a few oak tossed in here and there for good measure. I thought I saw a couple of fruit trees, but I wasn’t sure. One thing I did notice as I moved was the trees seemed to grow in rows. That was extremely odd. I had never seen that before, and I had been in a number of woods.

  I looked back over my shoulder and I couldn’t see the wall anymore. For some reason, that bothered me. It felt like I was getting too far away from my home. I didn’t want to get too far away from the wall, but there was nothing there that could let me survive the night. I needed to move before nightfall, and find a place to survive in.

  As I walked on, I saw a clearing on my left. I went over in that direction, hoping to have a chance to get my bearings. I knew I was going east, but if I could get up a little higher, I could see if there was some sort of shelter I could head for. I pushed through the brush as quietly as I could, hoping that whatever it was that had buzzed over my head would not be able to track me by sound.

  When I reached the clearing, I paused, looking around like I always had, looking for traces of passage, anything that didn’t fit with the rest of the picture. I didn’t see anything along the edge of the clearing, so I stepped carefully out. I could hear birds arguing in the branches, and I thought I saw the grey flash of a squirrel. I kept my head down, and moved out, keeping to the edge of the clearing. The grass was tall in the center, and I was a bit curious as to why there weren’t any trees growing here.

  About a quarter of the way around, the ground I stepped on suddenly snapped. I looked down and didn’t see any twig, so I lifted my boot and saw a flash of white under the grass. I had seen enough of them to know one when I saw it. I had just stepped on a bone.

  I reached down, and as I got lower, I could see the ground was lumpy and uneven, rising as it got closer to the center. I scraped away some more of the ground, and unearthed several more bones. I had seen enough Tripper action in my life to know when I was looking at human bones. The more I looked around the clearing, the more I was convinced this wasn’t a clearing at all. It was a burial ground.

  I stepped back into the brush and worked my way toward the other side of the clearing. I didn’t want to step on or disturb any more of the grave.

  On the other side of the clearing, I passed back into the woods, and I stepped on something else that cracked. It sounded hollow, so I looked down again. This time, I had stepped on a skull. But this skull was not like any I had ever seen that had been

  taken down by a Tripper. This skull had a neat hole right in the center of it. I stepped away, and as I did, I looked back. I couldn’t help but think I was looking at more of a killing field, not a burial ground.

  I moved on, not hearing that buzzing sound anymore, following the trees as they flowed away from the way. I looked at the sky and figured I had about four hours before things started heating up. I needed a place to settle in and fast, or I was going to have to spend the night up in a tree or buried in the ground. I had to do that once, and it was the worst sleep I ever had, breathing into my hat as Trippers wandered around.

  I walked for what seemed to be several miles, and the sun dipped further along its path. The woods were full, yet as I walked, there were other clearings I saw on my left and right, but I didn’t bother to explore. I had a feeling I would find the same thing as I di
d in the first clearing.

  Through the trees I spotted something, something that didn’t look like a tree or its neighbor, and keeping low, I headed over towards it. From the glances through the trees, it looked like a building. I didn’t care if it was a shack with the sky for a roof, it was shelter, and I was grateful for it.

  I stepped out of the brush and looked at the building. It was a small garage, detached from the house that was a few yards further away. The house and garage looked like they had been abandoned for years, and as I looked closer, it seemed like the family that used to be here had left like they had planned on returning. The house was empty of furniture, at least I couldn’t see any from the windows. I tried the doors, but they were locked tighter than I cared to try right now. The sun was below the horizon and it was getting darker by the minute.

  I cracked the door on the garage and slipped inside, making sure to close it tightly once I was inside.

  It was hard to see, but there was enough light coming in to make out the big shape of the car still inside, as well as the shelves of containers and boxes. I would look a little deeper in the morning to see if there was anything I could use to get me back over the wall.

  I opened the car and slipped into the back seat. As I took off my gun and knife, I suddenly realized how tired I was. I lay down and was almost asleep immediately. I woke once, thinking I heard another buzzing sound, but I couldn’t hear it again, so I figured it was just a residual memory.

  My last thoughts before drifting off to sleep were about Kim and the horses. I hoped they made it back to the houses okay and didn’t try to stick around.

  Chapter 2

  In the morning, I went over the stuff left in the garage, but didn’t find anything of use. I was hungry, but I had been there before, and the view wasn’t any different this time. I would eat what I could find, and if not now, later.

  Outside, the world was bright and green, and as I was able to see better, I could discern a number of buildings in the trees.

  “That’s not right,” I said aloud. I walked carefully outside, and as I looked around, I had a hard time believing what I was seeing. There was a neighborhood right in the middle of the forest. There were rows of houses down what was now an obvious street. The grass had grown over the roadway, but it was still easy to see where the road was. Trees were growing thickly in every yard, and there were even trees growing in the middle of the road. I walked over to the next house, and found it similar in condition to the one I had just left. I tried the door on this one and was slightly surprised to find it open.

  Inside, the house was mostly empty, but I did manage to find some dried oats in a can. I realized suddenly and clearly I had no water. As soon as I focused on that, I was instantly thirsty. I forced the slight panic I felt down, having no room for it in my plans for today. I went through the rest of the house, and managed to find a small satchel, two small boxes of matches, a candle, and some twine. It wasn’t much, but I felt like I was halfway home after finding these things.

  Back outside, I went to the next house, and kept up the pattern all the way down the block. The homes were the same, pretty empty except for a few things here and there, and I added to my survival kit as I went along. I had a brief moment of brilliance when I thought I could just grab some ladders and get up the wall that way, but my moment to shine was over when I discovered that none of the homes I visited had ladders. Not a single one.

  The best thing I discovered was a small pocketknife that had a lot of folding features. I didn’t need it right now, but I appreciated the screwdrivers, and the little scissors. Sometimes the easiest way to get through a locked door was to pop the hinge pins.

  I stopped going into homes after a bit and kept heading east. I knew what was west, and east seemed to be the easiest route to take. I moved through what used to be a downtown area, but the businesses were all closed up, and there were trees growing right in the middle of the center traffic stop. It slowly dawned on me that there was no way trees would grow in the middle of an intersection. There was only one way they had gotten there and that meant they had to have been planted. When I reached that conclusion, things started falling into place. Empty homes, no signs of violence, trees planted all over the place, no Tripper activity anywhere. Everyone had left this place willingly, and they planted trees to cover their tracks. But why trees? Who could see anything except from a high place?

  None of it made sense to me, and I started to think that the Trippers may have died off out here, making is safe for the rest of us to come out. That was a happy thought. We could gather everyone out of the state, and lock the Trippers in.

  That fantasy moved me along, and I followed the road that lead out of town. It wasn’t a road in the strict sense of things, just a cleared area in the grass. But it was straight and lead east, which was where I wanted to go.

  About an hour later, I found a small stream winding its way through the woods, and by the look of it, it had been there for a very long time. I took a long drink, then filled a bottle I had found in one of the houses.

  The woods stretched out for miles, and I was interested to see how far it went. If I had my horse, I would have explored this more thoroughly. Thinking of Judy refocused my thoughts on getting back home, and how I was going to do that.

  The empty woods gave me a lot of time to think, and I realized that the wall had openings, I just had never explored them fully. I didn’t need a rope or a ladder, I just needed to be able to cut through one of the bars that blocked the waterways. I could just follow the wall until I got to the lake, and get in from there.

  I didn’t bother to think about the fact that when I did get through, I would be in the heart of a city full of Trippers. Why burden myself with details?

  I walked on, and found myself going through another town. This one was like the last one, with empty homes and businesses, and trees planted where there shouldn’t be trees. I went into a number of garages and homes, looking for foodstuffs, mostly, but keeping my eye out for a hacksaw.

  I found one finally, and stored in my bag. I also found a length of rope, which I stored as well. That was my backup plan. If way leads to way, then I would need the rope as a last means to get over the wall.

  This town had an oddity the last one didn’t, though. In the business section of town, every building that was over two stories had been leveled at the second story. The broken pieces were piled up against the buildings, giving the grass a hill to grow against. Taken with my observations before, I made the guess that these buildings were meant to be hidden under the trees. The ‘what’ was easy to figure out, but the ‘why’ eluded me.

  I think I walked for another good couple of hours, and stopped suddenly. The woods I was walking through ended abruptly, and on the other side there was a straight road. Something told me not to try crossing that road during the day, so I tucked myself up under a bush, covered my face with my hat, and went to sleep.

  In the last light of the day, I woke, and long experience sleeping outdoors had taught me not to move until I had measured my surroundings. I heard no wheezing, no steps through the underbrush, and there was a good collection of birdsong around me. I slipped my hand up slowly and took my hat off my face. I slipped out of the brush and took a quick look around. The woods were dark, but there was nothing dangerous nearby.

  I stepped out onto the road, and a quick look told me it went out of sight both north and south. On the other side of the road was another fence, this one was just chain link, but it was tall enough that any Tripper would never get over it. On the other side of the road was open field. As I looked through the fence, I could see lights moving in the distance, within a larger grouping of lights. My mind raced back to that day when I first saw the lights, when Trey and I were holed up in a tall building.

  I had to know what those were, if only for my own sanity. I had read of will-o-the-wisps and a superstitious part of me wondered if I was seeing something of that nature here. Who was to say that if mankin
d left the earth, would magic that may have been dormant suddenly rise again?

  I scaled the fence and was over in a few seconds, slipping into the heavy grasses. I walked carefully, keeping a hand on my knife and gun. I couldn’t explain it, but I didn’t feel as if there were Trippers nearby.

  I was about a quarter-mile from the road when I heard it. It came from the north, and approached quickly. I ducked into the grass and looked back, trying to see what made the noise. It was a dull roar, and grew louder as it came closer. In the grey light, I could see a car approaching, moving in the dark. Its lights were out, but it stayed on the road without difficulty. As it passed, I could see the driver’s pale face staring out into the darkness. I could have sworn as he went by he looked out the window and stared right at me. I didn’t move, I just stayed where I was, like a deer hoping immobility would serve as camouflage.

  I tried to absorb what I had seen, and finally figured it was someone who still had a working car, and kept the lights out so as not to attract Trippers. The sound would carry and that might bring any within hearing to investigate, so I figured I’d better get moving.

  I stayed low in the grass, keeping an eye on the lights to the east. I could see a few moving now, and it was fascinating to watch. I realized as I watched them that they were cars, moving as if there wasn’t a Tripper for miles. I had to wonder if there was a fence I couldn’t see or some other kind of barrier. I kept my eyes open for a pit or some other obstruction. I had to find some place to spend the night; I didn’t want to approach this place in the dark.

  Off to the south, I saw a dark, box-like shape, so I made my way over to it. It was a small, two-story farmhouse, and it looked like it had seen better days. The trees and grass grew right up to it, and I had to pull a large pine branch out of the way of the door to get it open. Inside the house was bare and dusty, but the windows and doors were secure, so I knew I could rest here tonight. I went upstairs and locked myself in a small room.