The Dead Years (Volume 9)

by Jeff Olah

  Sliding to his knees, Sean dropped his head. “It’s my fault… I broke the window. I’m sorry. I just thought that…”

  She didn’t want him to give up. Megan needed him as much as he needed her. “Sean, that man has done things that you couldn’t possibly imagine. We need to get out of this hole or we’re going to die here. We need to get to that woman and help her.”

  The woman’s screams continued into the night and intermittently throughout the next day. Neither of the siblings even attempted sleep for fear they’d awake to a much worse fate than what they’d witnessed so far. Taking turns at the window, Megan and her brother watched the house and waited for a sign of what was to come.

  As the hours turned to days, the woman’s cries for mercy became less frequent as did sightings of their captor. He’d walk out into the yard a few times each day to address any new Feeders that had the misfortune of striding onto this property. The man, who they considered a much more lethal threat than anything undead, began piling the bodies of the family he killed inside the home, with the many Feeders he battled outside.

  Twice in eleven days, the mad man marched to the open window and tossed in a few small paper bags. Never making eye contact with either of his prisoners, he’d move back to the home without a word spoken. The contents of each bag were familiar; they were the supplies Sean packed before leaving home. The questionable water they drank, a few small snacks and the two to three hours of sleep each day were the only things keeping them somewhat coherent.

  The severe headaches due to a lack of food subsided within the first few days and their hunger pangs transitioned into fits of delusion as the pair fought to remain rational. Megan would begin each day with stories from their youth, although Sean usually became restless and would venture back to the window, hammer and screwdriver in hand. Megan would beg him to stop, although after nearly two weeks, the difference between the mental tortures they were being subjected to and death became almost irrelevant.

  The growing mound of bodies piled outside the cellar doors radiated a stench that could have been traced for miles. Each day began like the one before as the sun grew overhead and the passing wind trapped the smell below ground. Attempting to keep down what little food they were given became nearly impossible.

  The morning of their seventeenth day trapped in hell, they used an old bed sheet soaked in water to cover the window in an attempt to stave off the intolerable odor, although this plan only lasted a few hours. Unable to see his prisoners, the man from the house moved quickly to the window holding a pot of boiling water. He reached in, grabbed the sheet and as he pulled it away tossed in the steaming liquid, narrowly missing Sean as he twisted to the side and out of the way.

  “No more,” the man said as for the first time in days, he made eye contact with the pair. He slammed the pot against the metal bars, causing Sean to flinch and from one knee continued, “If you keep quiet, I won’t hurt either of you. You are part of this family now. Don’t make me come back here.”

  In a fit of delusion Megan countered. “Where is that woman you took?”

  “She’s fine. I haven’t hurt her… yet.”

  As Megan began to respond, He looked back toward the house and then back at Sean. “Son,” he said, grabbing a handful of the chipped away block wall. “You’re not going to dig your way out of here, I guarantee it. If you do somehow manage to get these bars loose, I’d get here long before you or your sister could ever escape. So save your energy, you’ll need it.”

  As he stood and went back to the house, Megan hurried to the wall and counted to herself as he marched along the short path to the front door. Stepping down, she moved to the back room, pulled the remaining sheet from the bed and ran to the faucet. Letting the water flow in and soak the fabric, she looked back at the window.

  Sean stepped to his sister looking curiously at the sink. “Really? You saw what just happened, right? I really don’t think we need to piss him off any more than he already is.”

  “Sean, this man is going to kill us. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but at some point he’ll get tired of the head games and just do it. I don’t know how long we’ve been locked in this cellar, but I can’t stay down here another night and I will not relieve myself in the corner of that room one more time. We both know what he’s capable of and there’s no other way around it.”

  “Megan, he told us not to…”

  “Help me put this sheet back over the window. We’re getting out of here today.”

  11

  Striding behind the lawnmower tending to the area adjacent to the entry gate, not a single cloud dotted the sky above Blackmore. This was the first day since the world was torn apart by the infection over two weeks ago that he wasn’t running. The heavy breathing and trails of sweat emanating from every pore were this time from hard work. The past seventy-two hours were much harder than the previous fourteen days. The torturous events he somehow managed to escape when arriving at this facility were incomprehensible. Although they now seemed insignificant in comparison to the thoughts and memories that now occupied his every waking moment. Losing his family in the blink of an eye would dictate the remainder of his life.

  The people inside the walls of this compound were now his family and he’d already made a promise to April and Justin that he would continue to give to those who needed him. This promise would keep him connected to those who’d gone before him and give him a purpose where there no longer appeared to be one.

  Mason shut down the mower, walked to the guard tower and retrieved the half gallon container of water he’d been drinking from for the majority of the afternoon. He stood in the shade, pulled his shirt off and after quenching his perpetual thirst, poured the remaining fluid over his head. His wounded body had already begun to heal and the pain in his shoulder was less demanding now that he’d had some time to rest. Having to remind himself to eat since locking down Blackmore, Mason knew this world wasn’t any less threatening just because they were behind the walls. He now needed to regain his strength for the next chapter of his new life.

  Returning the mower to its home and disposing of the clippings, Mason stood near the large metal dumpster and watched as William finished a conversation with Randy and made his way over.

  “How’s the yard coming along?” William said.

  “You tell me,” Mason said pointing in the direction of Building One. “This place was in need of help long before we got here.”

  William caught himself as he scanned the area, his attention stalling at the graves of his friend’s wife and son. “Mason… how are you holding up? If you need anything…”

  “I’m still numb. I don’t know how to feel other than empty. You?”

  “About the same I guess. I still talk to her every day,” William said.

  Mason bit his lower lip as it began to quiver. “Me too.”

  “I’m sorry bud; I didn’t come over to bring you down. There’s actually something you need to see. I just showed Randy a picture of it and he agrees. You need to see this.”

  “OK, what is it?” Mason asked.

  William closed the cover on the tablet as Mason looked over. “Are you done out here? This is something you need to see firsthand. The pictures here don’t tell the story. Randy said he’ll stay and take watch.”

  “Before we head out, do you know if Randy made his way around the perimeter yet?”

  “Yes, he said other than the rear gate, this place is as safe as it’s going to get.”

  “Other than the rear gate?” Mason said.

  Pointing to the clearing beyond the rear walls of Blackmore, William said, “Well… the way the hillside out there is situated everything flows into the area just outside the gates. Feeders have been funneling in there since we locked it down, although so far we’ve been able to stay out of sight and far enough away that I don’t think they’ve realized we’re here.”

  “Will it be a problem once they do? How long can that gate hold them back?”

&nbs
p; “Randy really isn’t too sure. He’s looking at ways to fortify it without making too much of a production out of it. Once again, trying to fly under the radar.”

  “Sounds good,” Mason said.

  Pausing for a moment to watch as Randy finished up near the rear gate and then turning to William, Mason continued, “So… what did you need to show me?”

  “Follow me,” William said as the two made their way to Building Six.

  Through the entrance and into the sparse lobby, Mason was stunned at how orderly the others had managed to get this building in such a limited amount of time. He’d worked on the exterior for the last few days and had little to do with what was taking place inside the six structures he was now responsible for. He moved quickly through each building, eradicating any Feeders left behind after the initial onslaught and hadn’t returned to the interiors, other than Building One since. Things were much different today.

  Other than the dried blood that adorned the walls and flooring, it was hard to imagine that hundreds of those things were trapped here for two weeks. As the men made their way down the main hall that ran the length of the building, they passed two vacant offices and not a stick of furniture remained out of place.

  Mason had only descended the stairs to the basement on one other occasion. He walked with trepidation the first time and today was no different. Cool and dark, the only sound radiating from below came from the fifty foot bank of refrigerators along the wall nearest the two men. The low hum gave Mason pause once again, as if masking some alternate force ready to annihilate all who dared attempt to transcend the stairwell.

  Reaching the basement floor, Mason said, “William, I’ve been down here before… Randy and I recorded everything. I’ve seen the massive stockpile of food, weapons and supplies. I don’t think I need to go through it again.”

  “Trust me my friend, I guarantee you haven’t yet seen everything this basement has to offer, not by a longshot.”

  In between the pallets that housed boxes upon boxes of military grade weaponry and the rations that could sustain the group for years, they walked to the south corner where William stopped, retrieved the tablet from his coat pocket and powered it back up. Leaning to the right and nodding to Mason, he flipped through a few applications and rested on an image of a long corridor too obscure to make out much of anything.

  Confused, Mason cocked an eyebrow. “What am I looking at, some sort of hallway? Where is this?”

  His left hand open in the direction of the tightly wrapped pallet three feet in front of them, William said, “Right in front of you… I had the same reaction the first time I witnessed it.”

  Turning away from the plastic wrapped behemoth and craning his neck to again look at the image on the handheld devise, Mason shook his head. “Call me ignorant, but I still don’t get it. What did you witness?”

  Stepping back a few paces and asking Mason to do the same, William taped furiously at the tablet as a triumphant grin slid across his face. “Check it out!”

  The grinding of metal on metal preceded the shaking of the pallet. It began its slow journey, sliding inch by inch into the left corner of the building. He tapped a few additional commands and the massive opening in the wall began to reveal itself; William then activated the lights.

  The eight foot square walkway tunneled away from Blackmore and appeared to follow the slope of the hillside down into the lower elevations of the mountainous terrain. Various shades of grey concrete were lit by the intermittent overhead lighting for as far as either could see. Mason turned to his friend and without uttering a syllable, walked into the corridor.

  Twenty feet into the mountain, the pair stopped at the control panel along the right-hand wall. William opened the rusted out metal door to expose the switch that would be used to open the door from this other side.

  His hand over his eyes, attempting to cut the glare, Mason looked down into the void. “What is this? And maybe a better question, where does it go?”

  “This is as far as I got before coming to you. I was planning on taking a trek tomorrow morning to see if I could find out where this thing ends.”

  Pausing a moment, Mason looked back at his friend. “OK… but I’m coming with you.

  12

  With the saturated linen hung over the opening, Megan moved the folding chair to the right side of the window and used the hammer to continuously strike the metal security bars until their captor rushed out the front door and onto the porch. Shirtless and with sweat reflecting the brilliance of the late afternoon sun, he looked directly into Megan’s eyes. Pulling her head back, she steadied herself and spoke quietly to her brother. “Sean, you know what you have to do. This is not going to work if you don’t help and we only have one chance at this. Are you ready?”

  He kept his gaze on the dripping sheet less than twelve inches away, not once looking over at Megan. “Yes, I’m ready.”

  To the right of the opening Megan silently pushed the fear away and only thought of the action she’d need to take in less than thirty seconds. She was confident in her abilities, although the man heading in her direction at least doubled her body weight, to say nothing of his dominant strength. His mental state added another layer to the already stacked odds and it was abundantly clear that they were not leaning in her direction. She wasn’t really ready to die, although she also didn’t have it in her to keep surviving this way.

  As the sun’s brilliance was momentarily blotted, she knew he was close and the heavy breathing only feet away assured her it was happening. It was happening right now. She calmed herself as the man, on just the other side of the busted out window, pushed his hand through the opening, reaching for the sheet they’d placed so strategically. Megan used one hand to grasp the man’s wrist and the other to come down swiftly with the blunt end of the hammer onto his forearm. The crackling sound and rise in the skin just below the elbow that closely followed told her that she’d at least crushed one of the bones in his lower arm.

  The roar of pain coming from only inches away threatened the delicate intricacies of her inner ear as much as her resolve. Dropping the hammer, she now clutched the man’s arm with both hands as Sean moved in and also took hold. Using every ounce of leverage, the siblings braced themselves against the interior wall and forced the man’s body into the steel security bars. Biting through the excruciating pain, he looked directly into their faces, neither begging for mercy nor asking for forgiveness. He spoke quickly and deliberately. “I’m going to kill both of you. I’m going to take my time and it will be unlike anything your tiny little minds could ever imagine.”

  Megan turned to her brother. “Do not listen to him, do not look at him.”

  Their merciless struggle continued and as the seconds ticked away, Sean’s grip began to break down. “Megan I’m starting to lose…”

  Growling from just beyond the bars, the man threatened, “That’s right little boy, let go now and I won’t make you watch me torture your sister. I’ll kill you first.”

  “SEAN!” Megan screamed. “Look at me… pull back as hard as you can, right now.”

  “YOU ARE BOTH ALREADY DEAD…”

  Brother and sister pushed off the block wall and before losing their grip on his arm, pulled their victim head first into the metal security bars. He instantly went limp and slipped from consciousness as Megan careened backward into her brother and both fell hard to the damp concrete floor. They scrambled to their feet as Sean, hands on his knees, began to hyperventilate. “I can’t do this Megan, I can’t… I… can’t.”

  She turned her brother to the stairs and asked him to get to the top and wait for her. Sean turned, but didn’t appear to comprehend anything beyond not watching what she was doing. He focused on breathing slowly as Megan turned her attention back to the window; she retrieved the hammer and slowly pulled down the sheet still attached by one corner.

  The man’s arm draped over the edge and into the cellar, she moved to the wooden storage container, withdrew a leng
th of rope and secured his badly injured arm to the chair below. Her brother still frozen at the foot of the steps, Megan guided him to the chair and convinced him to forget about everything in the room and just sit in the chair. “Don’t move… no matter what. Just stay in this chair.” Under her breath, Megan pled for at least one small bit of karma. “Please let her still be alive.”

  “HEEEEEEEY, HELP US. IF YOU’RE IN THERE, WE NEED HELP!”

  Rocking back and forth in the chair, Sean halted and looked at his sister. “What are you doing? We haven’t heard anything from that woman in days, probably more than a week.”

  “She’s alive, I know it. He only killed those that pissed him off or were a threat. She’s in there.”

  “HEEEEEEEY LADY, WE NEED HELP. IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, PLEASE COME OUTSIDE!”