The Beginning of the End

by Emily Allison

  "He’s a scientist, right?" She arched her thin eyebrow. “So interesting…”

  "Yeah we met him in Wyoming. He was holed up in a warehouse. The guy knows a ton about zombies. He even told us they were night blind and color blind."

  "Night blind? What the hell is that?"

  "That was my reaction too, but I guess it means they don't see well at night."

  "That's cool. I’m sure that could help us." She ran her fingers through her short black hair.

  "Now when you meet him, remember he's a little off." Damon twirled his finger around his ear. “Kind of like Bill Nye meets Dr. Frankenstein.”

  "That's great. We have a mad scientist in our safe zone. I’m sure Harper was thrilled."

  Damon laughed, but choice to ignore the comment about Harper. "Keep that to yourself, would ya? I wouldn't want to freak anyone out."

  "Here's your new home." Damon spread his arm wide in the tiny living room. At Harper's urging they put the scientist in the house furthest away from everyone. It was located in the corner of the safe zone at the base of the mountain.

  The old man bobbed his head in approval as he panned the small foyer, brushing his wrinkled chin against the ferret perched on his skinny shoulder. He strode through the foyer into the living room, arms clasped tightly behind his back, his head gyrated as he scanned every inch of his new dwelling. Damon and Victoria waited at the front door for the man to make his way around the circular layout of the home. His footsteps were slow and calculated, but finally he came to a stop adjacent to a large oak dining table.

  “What do you think, Fester? Chester?” he asked his critters, almost forgetting Damon and Victoria. “An acceptable dwelling, don’t you think? The lighting is much better.”

  Damon crossed his arms and tapped his elbow with his fingertips, listening to the scientist babble to his pets about the frilly place mats on the table for only a few minutes before looking sidelong at Victoria. He smirked when he saw her thin eyebrows were arched to her hairline.

  “Is he really having a conversation with those things?” she whispered.

  “Yup. He was alone for a long while, I guess,” Damon speculated. “He’ll come out of it, I’m sure.”

  “Huh, well this has been interesting. I need to get back to the hospital.” She moved into the dining room to address the scientist. “It was nice to meet you, and welcome to Vail and all, but I’m going to head out now.”

  There was a long hesitation from the man behind the table, as he seemed preoccupied with adjusting his chair to the location with the best light. Sensing someone was looking at him, he looked up from his work, “What-what-oh yes. Very nice to meet you.” He stretched his pasty lips in an awkward smile and then quickly went back to sitting down, standing up, readjusting the chair, and then sitting down again.

  She waved a curt goodbye and turned on her heel. “OK...” she murmured on her way back to Damon. Her dark eyebrows were raised. “You weren’t kidding.”

  “Give him some time,” Damon encouraged.

  Victoria passed him to go out the door and pecked Damon on his rough cheek. “Whelp, my people were less weird, by far.”

  Damon smiled and shook his head as he watched Victoria’s slender form disappear out the white door. He turned back to the dining room and saw the scientist rummaging through a leather satchel and pulled out what looked to be glass slides. His microscope was already on the table. He was about to ask him what he was going to be looking at, but the man’s voice interrupted him before he was even able to open his mouth to speak.

  “Would you be so kind to bring my things inside?” the scientist asked without looking from his gray microscope. It was clear to Damon the old man had no intention of moving.

  “Yeah sure.”

  Damon turned and jogged outside, eager to help the man out. He wanted to know more about the things that plagued the earth, and this was his shot. He bounced inside with a pile of boxes and set them in the corner just inside the dining room. He shuffled them across the wood floor with his foot, settling close to the wall and out of the way.

  “No-over there.” The scientist pointed across from the mechanic.

  Without question, Damon moved them, and then he went for more. Two heavy ones were in his arms, and he placed them next to the others.

  “No-no-no-that won’t do. Over here please.” He waved his hand around the table next to where he was sitting.

  “OK...” He felt a tick in his shoulder but moved them anyway, and set them down in a loud thump.

  He moved a little slower for the next round. Pale yellow sunlight glinted against Damon’s naturally tan skin and cast a long dark shadow across the dew covered lawn, following him to the jalopy of a truck. He bent over the rusted metal bed reaching for another box when he felt a sharp sensation in his side.

  “Son of a bitch!” he snarled and stepped back from the truck checking his abdomen. He noticed a laceration about an inch in size. Blood ran down his sculpted abs. “Stupid truck,” he hissed through grated teeth and kicked the bed. His boot disappeared inside the wall of the truck with a crunch. The rusted metal had given way in crumbling dust.

  “Shit,” he cursed as he attempted to maneuver his lower extremity out from the heap of junk.

  Metal dust showered the curb when he gave a mighty yank, the truck released his foot, and Damon fell on his ass to the wet ground. He growled as he peeled himself off the grass. Making sure to miss the sharp metal that skewered him previously, he nabbed a few more boxes, turned, and then trudged to the house.

  He tossed the boxes to the floor in the foyer and turned to get more. The scientist’s raspy voice stopped him.

  “No-no-those to the kitchen.”

  A groan resonated in Damon’s throat.

  This is gonna take forever…

  The perfume of evergreens and moist earth filled Chloe’s mousey nose when she took a deep breath. Her hips shifted as the buckskin horse she was riding settled into a slow trot on the worn dirt path ahead of them. They had been on this trail many times before, since learning to ride from Victoria. Bucky was a good horse, stubborn at times but loyal and affectionate. Victoria had made a comment once that her attitude was much like the horse’s, but Chloe didn’t see it. The horse stood at about fifteen hands, or about five feet, with her withers slightly over Chloe’s head.

  Bucky snorted, nostrils flaring wide. The buckskin’s thick legs pounded its front hooves into the dust, kicking up pine needles, then launched itself up on powerful hind legs, rearing her head back. The black mane feathered Chloe’s bare skin.

  “What is it girl? Come on let’s go.” She pressed her heels into the horses smooth flanks.

  The buckskin responded by stamping her hooves, sashaying on the trail, and tossing her thick head.

  Chloe yanked on the reins. “What the--?”

  Then she saw what had the horse spooked. A lengthy zombie shuffled through the bed of crispy needles and dead leaves. Camouflaged by months of grime, its clothes were nearly the same color as the earth, ashen skin full of maggot trails. No hair remained on the decaying scalp, peeling away to reveal a yellowish skull. Its milky eyes were locked on Chloe, shambling to cover the twenty yard distance. Each of its steps resonated in her ears as she reached for an arrow to string in her bow. She had been practicing shooting from horseback, but she had far from mastered the skill.

  The thing closed the distance with each bobbling step, and Chloe rushed an arrow out of her quiver and strung it in the bow. Buckey stamped the dust once more, rocking Chloe’s hips and her balance.

  “HOLD STILL!” she ordered.

  The horse disobeyed.

  Chloe tried to aim, but the closer the zombie got, the more agitated the horse became. She let loose the arrow, but it whizzed harmlessly to its left, striking the textured trunk of an old elm tree.

  “Buckey, hold still.”

  A gargle of a groan echoed through the woods around her, and the skin on her arms and neck prickled automati
cally. Another arrow flew by. It was only twenty feet away now. Buckey reared up when the thing lost its balance and lurched forward, spooking the horse further. She jumped, reared back and Chloe tumbled over Buckey’s rump. She hit the dirt, taking about a million pine needles in her mouth. Quickly she brought her hands and knees underneath her torso to push herself up to a kneeling position. The bow landed only inches away; without a thought, she snatched it. She spotted the rainbow fletching of her last arrow sticking out of a skunkbush.

  Scurrying on her hands and knees, she made it to the arrow and had strung it in her bow by the time the zombie made it to the trail. The buckskin’s whinny shot through the air, and she bolted between the trees.

  The zombie lurched forward with its mouth sagging open. Its lips were peeled back, and its thick tongue lapped up and down inside its maw, awaiting the meal.

  Chloe took a second to breathe. Feeling the fletching between her fingers, she let it fly. The arrow hit home, striking the zombie in the right temple. It crumpled forward, landing about six inches from her knees. After her frantic breathing returned to normal she jumped up, and dusted her jeans off. She scanned the shrubbery for any signs of the horse. She willed herself not to cry when she felt the lump develop in her throat.

  “Buckey!” she hollered somewhat unwisely. She clamped her lips shut.

  Stupid!

  She needed to call the horse back, but was too terrified there were more of the zombie’s amigos stalking the area. She remembered how Victoria would call the horses with a specific sound, much like the sound of a squirrel. She pushed air into her cheek, blowing it up like a balloon, the pressed her second and third finger against her cheek repeatedly. She cupped her other hand around her mouth to carry the odd sound. Anxiously she waited for the horse, all the while gripping her bow. The knuckles of her right hand were solid white. It would kill her to go back to Victoria and tell her that she lost her favorite horse.

  There was a snort from behind her, Chloe’s heart choked her when she whipped around, bow drawn. She let out an enormous sigh of relief when she saw the buckskin’s big brown eyes staring at her.

  “Good girl,” she breathed and reached up to pat the horse on its forehead. “You did scare me a little though.”

  Buckey gave her a nudge on the chin with her soft muzzle. The horse released a low guttural noise that comforted Chloe, and the teenager brushed her fingers through the horse’s black mane.

  “What the hell are you doing out here by yourself?”

  The voice made her jump out of her skin.

  “Good God! Is everyone trying to give me a heart attack today?”

  Damon made his way around the horse, making sure to give her a rub across her withers. “You know I don’t like you out here by yourself.”

  “Yeah, yeah I know,” she said, hoisting herself back into the leather saddle. “I always come to the same spot, plus I got it. We’ve pretty much cleared the zombies from this area anyway.”

  “You know what Harper would say to that?”

  Chloe huffed. “Did you come out here for something else, or just to lecture me?”

  “Actually, I did now that you mention it. Those new people Victoria brought in were talking about needing medication. So that means another run. This time while we are out I thought we would try to find some solar panels too. Hank said he probably could wire everything up.”

  Hank had come to the safe zone with his children shortly after they completed it. He is a mechanical engineer and has tried to help out any way he can with their power situation. He was pleasant, soft spoken and smart. He brought up the suggestion of solar panels at the last town meeting.

  “I suppose you can put them on the list for your next run. Count me out on that one by the way. I want to spend some time here, with my friends.”

  “You mean with Brandon,” Damon scowled.

  Chloe put her hand on her hip, tossing her head to the side. “His name is Jason, duh.”

  Damon waved his thick palm in the air. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t like the kid.”

  “Oh please, you don’t like any guys I do,” she shot at him from the back of the horse.

  Damon was not dealing with Chloe dating very well, but even more he had a problem with Jason. He was nearly eighteen and had more metal in his face than Damon’s Silverado had under the hood. In his gut he felt the teen dabbled in drugs and not just a little weed, but he couldn’t prove it. Brock kept his distance from Damon, Harper, and Riley for good reason, he supposed.

  “Anyway Damon, I need a break. We’ve been out so much.”

  Damon had a feeling the near death experience may have had something to do with it, but also he felt bad that she didn’t get much time to be a kid. He was always putting pressure on her to think like an adult...like him.

  “You can stay, but promise me you won’t go out of the compound while we’re gone. Plus I need you to keep an eye on Dr. D.”

  Chloe urged Buckey to circle around and head back to the safe zone. She was bored with Damon’s rules, but more importantly she wanted to meet up with Jason.

  Damon was about to say something when a hollow alarm echoed through the trees. It was the zombie alarm; not for just one zombie, but an army of them.

  Chloe was struck with fear, the color draining from her face as she pulled back the reins, stopping Buckey on the trail.

  Damon jogged to the horse’s flanks, shoved his foot into the stirrup and hoisted himself up behind Chloe. His heart pounded hard in his chest. He remembered the last time he was in the middle of an undead horde and cared not to relive it.

  “Come on Chloe! Get this horse moving. We gotta get back.”

  Chloe dug her heels into Buckey’s flanks automatically while attempting to keep her breathing under control. The thought of how many zombies it took to sound the alarm made her shudder. Her thighs squeezed the saddle harder when Buckey picked up speed. Her ponytail whipped Damon in the face as they descended.

  Damon grunted every time the buckskin’s hind hooves hit the beaten trail, but with the torrent of adrenaline rushing through his chest, the sound was just automatic; the pain from the jolting ride was pushed aside. All he heard was the alarm thundering in his ears. They had never had to use it since it had been installed. Where would that mass of zombies come from?

  The answer hit him when the alarm blared once more-the zombies from the highway.

  My God-they found me again.

  Shaking the paranoia aside, he tried to remember how many he had seen in the fog. He knew it was naive to think only the zombies on the road the night before were actually there. The dense mist most likely hid a number of them, since he had noticed they wander in packs. It was something that he wanted to speak with the good doctor about. That was if they survived their current predicament.

  Trees passed, their razor like branches slicing at his bearded cheeks as the horse carried them down the mountain side as fast as she could gallop. He cursed the foliage for blocking his view of the safe zone, but counted them lucky because it most likely hid them from the horde of the undead.

  “Chloe! Take her around the safe zone! We don’t know where they are coming from.”

  “Got it!” she hollered over her shoulder, her hands were tight on the reins.

  A clearing was in the distance, and Chloe slowed Buckey to an easy canter, then barely a trot. Damon slid awkwardly from the animal’s haunches and unsheathed his machete. His thick hand cinched around the hilt. He motioned Chloe to stop Buckey next to a leaning pine while he crept to the edge of the tree line, keeping low with the short raspberry bushes. From his position crouched in the foliage, tiny thorns sticking into his arms and neck, he could see the mass of zombies congregating in front of the compound. The main gate was hidden behind a thick wall of wriggling rotting meat. Bodies bounced against one another while hands clawed relentlessly at the chain-link. One zombie in particular had raked the decomposing skin from its fingers trying to get through to the guardsmen on the other sid
e.

  Damon racked his brain. The zombies blocked the one, lone entrance to the safe zone, and the only weapons they had were a machete and bow. Against an army of this size, the two of them would be nothing more than a quick meal for the first few lucky undead who finally managed to bring them down. He shuddered, skin crawling with goosebumps at the thought of teeth and fingers digging into his flesh. It was a thought that always got to him, and by the look on Chloe's face, the feeling was mutual.

  Suddenly, the sound of gunfire erupted from the gate, which Damon knew was from the guard crew. When he heard the controlled burst of rifle fire, he was assured that Riley and Harper had joined the fight; a slight comfort when they were stuck outside the fence. He could only image what Victoria was thinking. Not wanting her to worry about him was an impossibility, but there was no way to signal that he and Chloe were ok.

  "Damon!" Chloe’s shout rocked him to his feet. To his left, a group of zombies stumbled into view.

  The sculpted muscles of his forearm flexed as he gripped the hilt of the machete. The decomposing form of a woman with matted blonde hair was the first to approach. A cloud of black flies buzzed tirelessly over her rotting skin. If it hadn't been for the adrenaline racing through his vessels the smell of the bumbling corpse would have made him gag. Her bare feet, stained with blood and dirt, crunched over twigs and pine needles. However, before she could reach her hands for Damon, he arched the machete in a circle and took her head off. It landed in a bed of pine needles, while the rest of the zombie landed in a thick green bush.

  Two more zombies worked their way through the trees. Damon slashed one down the center of its skull, the blade sinking into its brain, then quickly side stepped and took another's head off at the base of the neck.

  Damon turned back to Chloe after the skirmish to make sure she faired ok. When she called out again, he realized his mistake. He felt a heavy weight clamp onto his shoulders. He spun, his left boot hit a mole hole, sending both zombie and man tumbling through the thick sticker bushes. The zombie lost its grip and landed on its back about a foot away from Damon. The machete was out of sight. He heard Chloe scream and jumped to his feet to race back to her, but the flailing zombie caught his right ankle, and Damon fell onto his chest, his chin smacked the ground, driving his bottom teeth into his tongue. He spat out blood. His fingers raked against the earth to get some leverage while he kicked with his boots, striking the zombie's face over and over until he heard a sharp crack. The zombie's skull opened, and Damon landed one last blow, destroying it. The hand on his ankle went limp. He scrambled to his feet. When he got to Chloe’s side she had three bodies at her feet, each one with an arrow sticking out of its head.