“Help me, whoever you are! I'm upstairs!” Clive climbed the steps, and walked into the room. The man's eyes darkened. “So you've come back to finish me off? Good.” He spat at him and Clive wiped the spittle off his shoe.
“Fuck you. I'm leaving you to rot.” He reached down into the closet and grabbed a coil of rope. As he ran back out of the house, he heard the man's screams and he ignored them, rushing out into the street. He tied a loop in the end of the rope, and lowered the end of it down the manhole.
“Tie this around your waist and tell me when you're ready to be pulled up.”
No response.
“Alice?” Still no reply. He climbed down the ladder. As he neared the bottom, a hand grabbed his ankle and pulled him down. He fell hard, hitting his head on the ceiling, and fell with a loud splash into a pool of stinking water. A man fell on top of him and started clawing at his face.
He struggled futilely to get the man off, but he just kept scratching at him. His nails were sharp and easily ripped through his skin. One slash cut into his eyelid and he felt blood trickle into his eye. He blinked it away and started firing into the
darkness. The gunshots echoed loudly in the tiny sewer and he was deafened by the blast. The clawing stopped and he stood up. The body was wriggling helplessly in the water and he fired again. It stopped moving and his thoughts turned towards Alice.
She lay there, lifeless, throat ripped open and face mauled completely. He knelt over her and closed her wide, vacant eyes, whispering a silent prayer. Standing up again, he climbed up the ladder slowly, with heavy steps.
She was dead. She was dead and he couldn't save her. After all they'd been through, it ended all the same. The sun was steadily rising and he felt the warm glow on his back as he tread towards the apartment. The guilt was too strong, even though he knew it wasn't his fault, but he couldn't help thinking that he could have done more to save her.
He reached the apartment before he realized it and looked up at the building, sighing. The ascent up the ladder was always dizzying and brought out his nearly crippling fear of heights. He took a deep breath once he swung over the top and refused to
look down at the ground below. All he could think about was Alice's cold, dead body, and he tried to shake the image from his mind, but with no success.
He looked up at the sky and frowned. Smoke was on the horizon, so dark and heavy that at first it appeared to be nothing more than a rain cloud. The forest was on fire, spreading fast. Who knew how long it would be before the whole city was ablaze, with nobody to stop it. He hurried down stairs and opened the door.
He was greeted with surprise when he walked into the apartment and he took a moment to explain what had happened, leaving out the grisly details and not mentioning his captivity. When he mentioned the fire, they all discussed plans for evacuation, if it came to that. The idea seemed too frightening to handle and they quickly dropped the subject.
Eileen seemed especially grateful for his return, but Paul was sullen and morose and barely seemed to notice his arrival. It didn't surprise him, once he found out about the death of the other two men. He remembered that one of them had been
Paul's brother. Of course he'd take it hard. The four ate in silence, with even the small boy picking up on the unpleasant calm and sitting quietly in his seat, eating with his eyes cast down before him. Everyone kept to themselves that day, each wrapped up in their own thoughts and their feelings of loss and grief and guilt.
It was painful being trapped with one's own thoughts like that, for so long, and the day passed unbearably slow. Clive's thoughts rotated from Alice to the fire and he wondered how long they'd have before they had too leave. Maybe the fire wouldn't hit the town, but he thought it seemed unlikely. Of all the times to need rain, naturally it didn't come. The sky was empty, except for the smoke, not a cloud in sight.
Night finally came and they went to sleep. Not one of them slept peacefully, all haunted by constant nightmares. In Clive's dreams, he saw Alice being mauled repeatedly, all the while she cursed his name and he just stood there helplessly and watched. He awoke shaking and got up to drink a glass of water.
Too afraid to go back to sleep, he instead just sat up and stared out the window, watching the moon as it slowly drifted out of sight over the course of the passing hours. With no streetlights to fill the streets, the stars were more brilliant than ever, and for the first time in his life he saw the white band of the Milky Way. It dazzled him, and for the moment, at least, he was distracted from his thoughts, fixated on the brilliant night sky. He'd never stopped and appreciated the stars before. He hoped that he'd be given another chance to make up for that lost time. For life seemed especially precarious and he wondered how much time was left before he too met his untimely end.
Chapter Forty Three
Searching
The drive was peaceful, given the terror of the previous weeks. Vincent, for the first time in what felt like a very long time, was actually enjoying himself. The feeling of the wind rushing past calmed him and he felt strangely normal, almost forgetting the fact that the world was ending and that his survival wasn't guaranteed by any means.
Steve had nodded off to sleep and Sally had been so drugged that even when she was awake, she could do nothing but sit there and stare off into space. The headlights reflected brightly on a sign up ahead and he saw that the nearest town was only eighteen miles away. At his current speed they'd be there in less than fifteen minutes.
He gently shook Steve's shoulder and he bolted upright. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing. We're just getting near the next town and I thought it'd be a good idea to wake you.”
“How far off are we?”
“Not far. We'll be there very soon. Double check your rifle, we'll need to be careful and ready.”
Steve nodded and ejected his ammunition before reinserting it and cocking the gun. “All set.” They neared town and Vincent had to slow down as the number of wrecked cars increased. With a steady hand, he turned the steering wheel and always drove by the totaled vehicles slowly, shining his flashlight inside, on the off chance of finding a survivor. They found none, but he held out hope.
Vincent turned off the highway and went down Main Street. The storefronts were destroyed, just as they had been in every town they passed. A combination of infected and looting opportunists left most buildings in shambles. So far, they had been fortunate enough to have avoided any sign of the infection, but they also found no other survivors. In fact, they had yet to encounter a single living soul since they left Steve and Sally's
hometown, except for their brief run-in with the gang members. As they passed a small grocery store nestled between a hardware store and a bakery, Vincent stopped the jeep and left it idling.
“Steve, you wait here and be prepared to leave instantly, if need be. I'm going to check inside for food.”
“Why risk it? We have enough food for at least another week or more and it's dangerous going out in the dark.”
“I know, but we might as well take the opportunity to gather as many supplies as we can, every time we get the chance. You never know what might happen.”
Steve nodded and gulped. “Be careful, Vincent.” the floor. He'd never seen such gruesome brutality, not even with the infected. Many of the scattered body parts had been stripped clean to the bone and he had to guess at what they once had been.
“I will.” With that, he swung his legs out of the car and took off into the store at a light jog, clutching his rifle tightly. A wave of stench washed over him as he opened the door to the store and his flashlight revealed dismembered corpses littering
He grew uneasy and suspicious. Something was wrong here. He started to think that this had been done by a survivor, but he shook the thought from his mind. Nobody could be that brutal, that disgusting.
The shelves were empty and as he searched the small store, he found not a single can or bag of food. Nothing edible remained. The only thing in the store were e
mpty shelves and flayed corpses. He had to step carefully to avoid the various limbs that littered the building. As he walked into the back room, he heard a shuffling sound and froze.
Sweeping his light back and forth, he saw a small man rush towards him, with an axe raised high above his head. He let loose a vicious battle cry and swung it at Vincent, narrowly missing. Vincent raised his rifle and fired several shots into the man's chest. He jolted with each hit and finally fell back to the floor, his face contorted in agony.
Vincent turned to leave, when he heard a soft whimpering. Shining his flashlight into the corner he saw the source of the noise. A small child lay there, bound with cables, squirming on the floor helplessly. Beside the little girl was another person, also tied up tight, laying limply on the ground. The woman's eyes reflected the light brightly and she started to shake.
“It'll be alright.” Vincent shushed them quietly and walked over, drawing his combat knife. They started to cry, a soft sobbing that could barely be heard through their muffled mouths. He leaned over and started cutting the cables off of the little girl, before he turned and did the same for the woman. Once free, they scrambled to their feet and took off running towards the back door.
“Wait, I won't hurt you!” Vincent stood up and pursued them, catching the woman by the arm. The little girl froze and stared at him with wide eyes.
“I'm here to help you. Don't worry, you're safe now.” The woman burst into a heaving sob and fell against him, crying hot tears into his chest. He rubbed her back consolingly and escorted them from the store. Steve looked shocked and he laughed. “That doesn't look like food to me.”
“It was to someone.” Vincent replied.
“What?”
“I'll explain later. Climb into the back seat, ladies. We're going to take you far away from here.” The woman helped the little girl up into the seat and scooted in after her. Buckling up, they sat there, still trembling lightly from the shock of the days past. Vincent revved the engine and started driving back towards the highway.
“Are we done with this town, then?” Steve nodded and rest his chin on his chest, trying to doze off to sleep. Vincent suddenly felt very tired, but he knew it would be a while before he could sleep. The face of that maniac he killed haunted his thoughts and he felt a grim
satisfaction at snuffing out that miserable life. He prayed that he'd never live to see such atrocities again, but he knew that was unlikely. The end of the world brought out both the best and worst of people. He was sure that he'd see even more terrifying sights before it was all over.
“For now, Steve. I think it's best we move on. Like you said, we've got enough food for now and we won't run out of gas for another ninety or so miles. The next town over is only thirty five miles down the road, so we'll refuel there.”
He looked up and readjusted the rear-view mirror. It was attached by duct tape and stolen from another car after their old one got shot off, and it was a hassle to adjust properly. It always insisted on sliding down and to the left. Frustrated, he jerked it sharply and it held still. Looking into it, he saw the woman staring at him. He dropped his gaze back to the road ahead. When he looked back up that she was still staring at him intently.
“I never thanked you for saving us.”
“Don't worry about it. It was my pleasure.” “No, really, thank you. You don't know what it was like, waiting to be killed and eaten by that... that... monster. I just can't -” She cut herself short and started crying.
“Shh... Listen, it's okay now. Don't worry anymore. You and your daughter are safe.”
“She's not my daughter, she's my sister. I had a daughter, but when the outbreak hit, she...”
“I'm sorry. It must be hard to lose a child.” She glared at him angrily. “You have no idea what it's like, until you lose one of your own. Don't patronize me.”
“I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to -” She started crying again and interrupted him. “No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just been so... well, I can't even describe what it's been like. The past few weeks have been the worst of my life.”
“You're right, of course. It's easy to get wrapped up in your own problems and forget that everyone has suffered. Hell, most people didn't even get to survive and here we are, living and breathing.”
“Well, you're not alone there. These past few weeks have been horrifying for everyone. Nobody's had an easy go of it.”
“And we'll keep doing that as long as I have the strength to lift my gun. I've already lost too many people and I'm not about to lose any more, not unless it kills me. You're safer here than you would be with anyone else.”
“Thank you, for everything.” Vincent just nodded and turned the steering wheel left to navigate around a sharp corner. The trees blurred past and the sun was just beginning its steady ascent in the sky. Vincent welcomed the new day and hoped that it would bring with it more survivors. Each survivor he rescued brought with it a purposefulness that kept him going. Each new person he saved was his own private way of making up for those he had lost before.
Another sharp corner lay ahead and he slowed and turned the wheel. As he rounded the corner, a semi truck came bearing down at him, blaring its
horn. He swerved sharply, narrowly missing it, and the car hit the ditch, rolling over and over. It seemed like the car would never stop tumbling, until they smashed hard into a tree and everything faded to black.
Chapter Forty Four
Vengeance
Paul slept restlessly and awoke at dawn. He stood up, feeling drained and void of emotion. He guzzled a tall glass of water and walked up to the rooftop, staring out at the streets below.
Every corpse he saw reminded him of John, and his failure as a human being.
He was too numb to feel anything, except a rising hatred for his brother's killer. The hatred was so strong it even overpowered his disgust with himself, and he swore that today would be the day that he got his revenge.
Walking back into the apartment, he saw the sleeping bodies of the others and knelt to kiss Eileen gently on the forehead, before grabbing his rifle and pistol and leaving. The walk to the bar seemed to drag on forever, but when he finally turned the corner onto the street of his final destination he slowed to a crawl and stealthily made his way towards the Geronimo.
Turning into the alleyway, he saw the ladder hanging high overhead, just out of reach. He slung the rifle back over his shoulder and walked down to the other end of the alley. The dumpster was heavy and full of rotting bodies and he gagged as he put his shoulder against it, pushing hard. The dumpster slid slowly, wheels creaking loudly with every inch, and he swore silently, praying that the sound would carry no further than his own ears.
Positioning it underneath the ladder, he climbed on top and pulled the ladder down to him. He crept up it, pistol in his left hand, and dragged himself over the top onto the small balcony. The window was closed and he peered inside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the killer. It was too dark to see anything, so he gently slid the window open and climbed inside.
The air reeked of alcohol and smelled like a brewery. He held his breath and looked around. It was a small apartment, consisting of a main living area connected to a small kitchen. The bathroom stood off to the side, with its door hanging open. Nobody was in sight.
Paul stalked through to the door and stared through the gaping hole in the wooden frame. It led down to a narrow staircase. He opened the door and crept down the stairs into the bar below. It was even darker down there, with only a few beams of sunlight peeking through the boarded up windows. Still, nobody was in sight.
He swore loudly and threw back his head. “Where are you, you bastard?” His voice echoed loudly, as if in reply, but no other sound could be heard. With a heavy heart he turned back to the staircase and prepared to leave. His opportunity for revenge had passed. He was alone again.
Dante awoke early, while the darkness still ruled the sky. He got up and drained his bladder, before popping a few aspirin
to help with his horrible hangover. It wouldn't really help, but he went through the motions anyway. The cupboards were bare and he realized that he had eaten the last of his food the night before, while he drank himself to sleep.
Quickly deciding that food was an immediate necessity, with his gut grumbling angrily at him, he departed the bar and headed for the church to steal the last of the canned goods. The church was dark inside and his flashlight seemed insignificant, unable to part the blackness. In the office, still slumped over his desk, was the dead priest, and he grinned in satisfaction. Flies buzzed around the body and the air was thick with them. He brushed them aside and grabbed the last box of food under his arm.
Before he left he stopped at the large crucifix by the altar and knelt in prayer. He hadn't given up hope in finding Noah and he knew that with enough praying God would return the blessed child to him. The boy had to be alive, his instincts told him so. His instinct never failed him before.
His unwavering vigil at the crucifix lasted for more than an hour and the sun started pouring in through the stained glass windows, casting him in a cascade of color. He scooped up the box and returned to the bar.
When he reached the alleyway he noticed the dumpster pushed underneath the balcony and the ladder was down. Setting the box quietly onto the floor, he silently cocked his pistol and crawled up the ladder. The window was ajar and he heard someone yelling from inside. He stood to the side of the window and aimed his gun at it, waiting.
Paul climbed the steps slowly, dejected and tired. The adrenaline had already finished working its way through his system and he just wanted to rest. Now that he knew his chance for vengeance had passed, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in the corner and die.
But there were still the other survivors to think of, and he was determined to live long enough to see them through this disaster. He wouldn't let anyone else down. His days of cowardice were over.
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