Survival_Book 1_And Tomorrow

by Ralph F. Halse

  After wiping odorous black brain matter from his weapon on their clothes, Kitch decided to search the couple. He was soon rewarded with a set of antique keys. It was better to search the castle thoroughly before letting the girls in, Kitch thought. He was fairly certain the castle was vacant. Noise from the outside had held the owners at the gate, as it surely would have drawn any infected capable of shuffling that far.

  Moving from door to door, Kitch opened each one. He banged the haft of his spear several times loudly and then retreated to the small courtyard to wait for an infected to arrive. When none did, he peeked cautiously beyond each door and called out. If the infected were there, he wanted them moving.

  Nothing! The castle was empty. Of course! The owners weren’t stupid. They had emptied the place. Why would they want to return to a home or business filled with infected? Kitch closed each door to permit the climate control devices to regulate the interior and then he opened the permasteel door.

  Seconds after he cranked an ancient door key in the lock, the door exploded inward, knocking him back several steps. Before he knew it, a heavy but pleasant-smelling weight was pressed against his chest. Seconds later, Caitlin was covering his face with kisses. Stepping back, he smiled hugely, delighted at seeing them both. Holding her at arm’s length, he said, “All clear.”

  “We heard you fighting,” she said, chest heaving, eyes brimming with tears. She slapped his face. “Then there was nothing, you asshole. Why didn’t you say something?” she angrily demanded.

  A shocked Kitch touched his stinging cheek. Opening his mouth to speak, he was prevented from doing so as Caitlin launched herself at him and silenced him with a kiss. Sobbing, she placed her head against his shoulder and said, “If you ever do anything that thoughtless again, forget the infected. I’ll kill you myself.”

  A confused but nevertheless grateful Kitch said, “I couldn’t risk exposing you two to any infected in here.”

  Stepping back, Caitlin took Kitch’s face in both her hands. Looking him directly in the eyes, she said, “We’re a team, Kitch. We’re in what remains of this shitty world together. That means”—she let his face go—”we take our risks together. Double the number facing any tight situation means greater chances of defeating the infected, Kitch. Remember that.”

  He nodded. “We’d best drag these two out of here before they start to decay while this gate’s open.” Tossing the keys to Marie, he said, “Can you scout the outer gate? If it is safe, unlock it. Stand guard while we do the dragging too?”

  Marie grimaced at the corpses. “Of course,” she said, disappearing through the gate.

  Grabbing a foot each, Kitch and Caitlin hauled the corpses out and onto the center of the road. Caitlin stood next to Kitch, bent forward, hands on knees sucking air into her lungs as she recovered from hauling the last corpse outside. Marie, standing by the locked gate, called out to Caitlin in a low whisper, “You two need to find something to wipe away that trail of blood and drag marks before we go back inside.”

  “She’s right,” Caitlin agreed, straightening with hands on hips. “If Junior, or anyone for that matter, looks in, they’ll know there’s someone inside. Only the living would drag corpses around.”

  Kitch headed toward a small structure attached to the food hall. He tried a number of keys until it opened. It was a utility shed filled with manual repair and cleaning devices. Selecting a broom, a mop, and bucket, Kitch returned to the front gate. For the next five minutes, the trio worked hard at erasing drag marks. Satisfied with their handiwork, Kitch locked the permasteel gates and slumped to the ground. He accepted a cool drink of water from Marie. Together they rested with their backs to the gate and gratefully slaked their thirst while Caitlin explored the castle’s interior.

  “Thanks, Marie,” Kitch said slightly raising his drinking vessel. “That was smart thinking.”

  Without looking at Kitch, Marie said in a quiet voice holding a hint of a tremble, “Being scared of someone like Junior has made me think of stuff I’d never have thought of before.”

  Kitch placed his left hand gently on the sixteen-year old’s shoulder. “I know where you’re coming from, Marie. Junior made my life hell for years.”

  Turning eyes blazing with hate to Kitch, she said between clenched teeth, “I’ll bet the cruel, fat pig never dangled you over hundreds of infected trying to rip you to shreds, did he?”

  “No,” Kitch responded weakly.

  Marie’s head dropped between her knees. She sobbed. “I have nightmares, Kitch. Only he drops me like he did the others. I can feel the infected ripping me apart and eating me.”

  Caitlin interrupted them. “Come and see. You won’t believe it.”

  Rising, Marie bravely swiped away her tears with a grubby backhand. Kitch placed his hand on her shoulder and pulled her toward him. Hanging his right arm over her shoulder, they silently followed Caitlin into the castle to a cavernous food hall decorated with shields, weapons and copied ancient tapestries of hunting scenes. Caitlin paused at a solid wall before turning with a broad, smug smile to face them. “You can’t see it, can you?”

  Kitch and Marie shook their heads.

  “Look,” she said, pointing to what appeared to be a long shadow.

  Kitch and Marie stepped forward. Both were frowning at essentially what was a block wall. Closer inspection revealed that what looked like a tall shadow was a man-made entry into a storage room. Stepping in, they were confronted by frosted freezers full of food. Sophisticated sensors sprang into life as their presence was detected. Overhead lights flickered on. Cooling devices rapidly adjusted the temperature, compensating for added stress expired body heat brought into the controlled environment.

  Directional and indicator lights depicted foodstuff, quantities, perishable dates, guest numbers, and menus, so resupplies could be ordered. Open mouthed, they walked along rows of freezers, staring at the wealth of nourishment.

  Caitlin was jumping up and down clapping her hands in delight. “There’s enough to last us a year or more,” she said. “And there’s more. This way,” she said eagerly grabbing their hands. Taking a step into another shadow, Caitlin drew them into a narrow room filled with refrigeration units. A narrow path existed between the cooling units and nearest wall. Once more, clear, frosted plexiglaz doors depicted the contents. Only this time, it was alcohol from every state and probably every country in the world.

  You may also enjoy the following from eXtasy Books:

  The Essence of Being Human

  Ralph F. Halse

  Excerpt

  “Hello. Can anyone hear me?” Annie Meechum called into the dense fog. Counting twenty, she stopped. “Hello. Is anyone there?” Forcing down rising panic, Annie paced until something squelched between her toes. She looked down.

  Annie could see no further than her knees. She kicked up her right foot. Flecks of grass and grit dotted her sole. Puzzled, Annie attempted to look under the fog. But that proved a futile exercise. Annie shuffled forward. Gradually, the fog began to thin to where visibility increased to roughly ten metres. She counted six hundred and forty-one, six hund...

  A vague form caused the words to dry on her tongue. Mounting panic forgotten, Annie hurried forward. As she approached, the form took the shape of a woman in her mid to early sixties, sitting at a glass-topped desk, knitting a jumper.

  “Hello, can you hear me?”

  “Of course, I can hear you dear,” the woman responded, setting her knitting aside. She peered over the rim of black square framed glasses, smiling warmly.

  “Can you help me?” Annie said. “I appear to be lost.”

  “Lost! Gracious me, no dear. You’re not lost. You’re exactly where you ought to be.”

  “But I’ve no idea where I am,” Annie spread her arms wide.

  “That’s only because you’re new here.”

  “New? I don’t even know where here is,” Annie said. “Look, I’ve been wandering in this fog for hours now. I have to get home. Can
you...”

  “Please sit down,” the woman pointed to a chair that Annie could have sworn was not there seconds before. Nevertheless, she sat.

  “My name is Clara.”

  “I’m Annie Me—”

  “Meechum,” Clara interjected. “Yes dear, I know who you are.”

  Annie’s jaw dropped. “I don’t recall meeting you before,” Annie said.

  “And you haven’t, dear.”

  Acrid vomit burning at the back of Annie’s throat and caused her to stumble over her words. “Why are you agreeing with me?” Annie said. “I don’t know where I am and I want to leave here right now.” To prevent her hands from trembling, Annie clasped them together, but the pressure she applied by squeezing her eyes shut could not prevent a flood of tears.

  Clara plucked several tissues from a silver dispenser on her desk and handed them the distraught Annie. “Compose yourself, dear. Now, what’s the last thing you remember before the fog?”

  About the Author

  Ralph Halse is the author of three novels, three short stories, and a play. He holds a BA in Environmental Planning from USC, a Dual Diploma in Sustainability and a Diploma in Local Government Planning.

  His most recent novel is: The Lore Giver—Vampire Book of Lore. His previous novel, Artefact War was reviewed by Mike H. McCloskey, who said: “Halse’s Rhyka books are gritty, gory, with a lot of action which is just how I like my adventure books. Yet they also have a lot of intrigue and nasty plotting: priests and soldiers a like fight to control what’s left of the world. To sum it up, just the right mix of action and intrigue.”

  Halse is an Australian based author who resides on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast. He lives with his wife, two grandsons, one incredibly lazy dog and two spoilt cats.