The town had changed dramatically since Simon was last there. Every house Simon passed had their windows boarded up. Each house was shrouded in darkness; not even the streetlights were on. Graystone was a ghost town. Simon’s steps echoed as he walked. Everything was quiet. He hadn’t seen so much as a bird or heard the buzzing of an insect all day. He passed more and more houses, each one barricaded and boarded shut. Were they trying to keep something out or something in? His thoughts drifted back to the gas station and he wondered if they were all filled with raging lunatics.
Simon remembered the smoke from earlier. There was no trace of it in the darkness, but it had been coming from the direction of Town Hall. Simon had accompanied his father to the city offices when he had business there on occasion. He loved to sit on the lacquered wooden benches and get lost in the giant murals adorning the walls.
It had been a week since Simon had ridden past Town Hall with his family on the way to the lake house. Town hall was composed of three large, two-story buildings that made up the city offices. What stood before him now was hardly recognizable as a peaceful government building in a small town. It reminded Simon of something he might see in a magazine depicting a war-torn third world country. The buildings still looked similar, but the landscape had changed. A vehicle barricade surrounded the property. It was a modern day twist on the pioneer’s wagon blockade. Trucks, minivans, cars, and an overturned semi-truck were lined up close and stuffed with metal and barbed wire so that no one could climb over or crawl beneath. How the cars had been stacked on top of each other, Simon had no idea.
A gate was attached to the end of the semi-trailer. A large, solid slab of metal seemed to be the only way in or out. Simon spotted a man sitting in a lawn chair on top of the semi. His long beard hung lazily across his chest as he sat there, rifle laying over his knees. He wore camouflaged pants and a brown jacket, but he wasn’t military. Simon could tell by the way he carried himself. This man was a hunter. The way he sat there, rifle on his legs, not caring if he was spotted; the man might as well be hunting deer. Whatever he was guarding didn’t seem to be a priority.
Simon’s eyes drifted past the man and he saw the source of the black smoke. Inside their barricade, a mountain of tires blazed, sending black clouds billowing up from the slow burning rubber. This must be a beacon, but why?
Something is off about this place, Simon thought. I don’t know what they are protecting or hiding from, but I’m not gonna go say hi in total darkness. I need to go home and find some clothes, and maybe some clue as to where to find my family. Simon knew his family wouldn’t be home. Why would they be the one house still operating in this desolate town?
It was no surprise when Simon found the windows and doors barred shut at his family’s house. Aside from these new additions, everything else was as he remembered it. The house was a two-story traditional; just like every other house in the subdivision. “Cookie cutter houses for a cookie cutter world,” his dad used to say. Simon’s dad was a lawyer, completely burnt out on the monotony of his job. He had had dreams of being a writer, but decided to go to law school to make his family proud. Simon never really appreciated the sacrifice his father made, never even really thought about it until this exact moment.
“Where are you, Dad?” he asked the darkness. I don’t know what is happening, but I’m going to do my best to find out. And if there is any way I can find you, I’m going to do it.
Simon pulled hard on the wooden planks barring his entry. They were fastened snugly and much more secure than the store had. It took him a while before the first one gave way, with his hands raw from the effort, then he was able to use the first board for leverage to pry the others loose. The door was locked, but he knew where they kept the spare key. In the flower bed, full of wilted flowers, Simon found the sleeping gnome with the red hat. A secret compartment underneath housed the key.
Inside, the house smelled much the same as the convenient store. Musty air weighed the place down. No one had been inside in a long time. Dust covered everything he touched, but it was all as Simon remembered. The furniture, paintings, photos were all the same. His first thought was of his bedroom, to find some clothes. On his way up the stairs, Simon passed a photo of his family hanging on the wall. It was from Christmas, two years ago. Me, Dan, Mom, Dad, Claire, right before she left for college. Such a good Christmas; we sat around singing carols and watching ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.’ Simon put his finger to the glass covering the picture. It felt like ice. I’m going to find you.
Simon’s room was exactly as he had left it before the lake trip. With the rest of the house, it at least seemed like time had passed, but in his room, nothing had changed. The blue shirt he had left on the bed was in the same spot. But someone had been there to board up the house. It’s like they came back from the lake without me and no one could bear to touch any of my stuff.
Simon found a green v-neck, jeans, and a black hoodie in the closet. He quickly dressed. Much better. Now that I’m not freezing, I should probably pack a few things. He grabbed a duffel bag and filled it with a few extra clothes. He tossed the pocketknife from atop the dresser in as well.
I should get some water from downstairs. He held his water bottle under the faucet, but what came out was undrinkable and black.
“No, thank you.” He searched the pantry and found a bottled water hidden in the bottom beneath a stack of grocery bags. Simon chugged the water. Man, I was thirsty. The rest of the pantry was empty. The cabinets were barren of food. In the entire kitchen, he only found the one bottle of water. Enjoy the little things, I guess.
It was at this moment that Simon heard movement in the back yard. There was the slight ching of chains clinking against metal. Simon looked out the window for the source of the noise. The backyard was fenced in, so no one had bothered boarding up the rear door or windows. In the moonlight, he saw a man chained to the metal post of the clothesline. A chain was wrapped around his neck that pulled tight as he tried to walk away. Each step choked him before he fell back a few inches to repeat the process over and over again. Simon’s heart raced frantically. Why is there a man chained in our backyard? How is he still alive if no one has been here? Simon couldn’t leave without answers; he needed to see for himself. It was too dark for Simon to tell who it was from the window, so he opened the door. His stomach tightened as he walked closer to the man, wishing he had brought the shotgun with him. The stench of rotting flesh filled his nostrils and he almost gagged. He walked down the stairs and the chains began to clink louder and faster. The man knew he was there. Simon wanted to run when he saw the face of the man before him. His eyes were sunken and glazed over, a milky white that gazed forward without seeing. Patches of decayed black flesh surrounded his eyes. Yellow pus ran down from his eyes and mouth, dripping from his chin. The skin around his mouth was taut, pronouncing his yellowed teeth and rotten gums. For long minutes, Simon crouched behind the stair railing and peeked through the bars at the hideous man, unable to move. Then he noticed the faded khakis and blue dress shirt.
“Dad,” he whispered. Simon’s father began to grunt and pull towards him. The sun had faded his clothes and deteriorated them to almost nothing. The slightest breeze might send them falling to the ground. The chains had torn deep into his neck; a deep gash seeped pus down his neck and chest. A pool had begun to gather in the dirt, making a slight slosh every time he took a step. Simon hesitantly moved closer to his father. This only made his dad pull harder, tightening the chain around his neck. “Dad, what happened to you? Can you hear me at all?” Simon pleaded, but there was no recognition on his father’s face. “It’s me, Simon. Dad, are you in there? Just let me know that you understand.” No response, just the same rhythmic clinking as he walked towards Simon, only to be jerked back by the chain. “What happened to you?” Simon asked, tears silently streaming down his face.
“I’m going to leave you here, Dad. And when I find out what is going on, when I find Mom and Claire and Dan, we’re going
to come back and we’re going to help you.”
Simon turned back before going inside. “I love you, Dad.”
Simon spent the night in his old room. It seemed safer than taking his chances in the dark, not knowing what might be out there. If there were more of those monsters like his dad, he didn’t want to meet them under cover of darkness. Simon had a hard time holding back the tears before falling asleep. He was unable to shake the visual of what his father had become and wondered if the same fate had befallen the rest of his family. It couldn’t have. Someone had to have chained him up. Someone boarded the windows and took all of the food. They have to be out there somewhere. Every now and then, Simon would hear the faint clink of metal on metal. Soft groans and clinking chains haunted his dreams. Simon found himself in the empty gas station, loud thumps and wailing coming from the other side of a locked door. The echo of his father’s voice bounced off the walls, screaming ‘help me.’
It felt like it had been years since Simon last slept in his bed, years since he had last slept, even. It was after noon before he finally woke up. The sun hid in the sky, a tiny dot barely visible behind the grayness overhead. Simon didn’t check through the rest of the house when he left; he didn’t peer out into the backyard. He had seen all he needed to see last night. He put his shotgun inside his bag, grabbed Slugger, and went straight outside.
Back at Town Hall, the same man was still on guard duty, though markedly more sleepy. He yawned and stretched his arms overhead, once again failing to notice Simon as he approached. Simon could hear people talking on the other side. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he was pretty sure one of them laughed. Maybe I was wrong about the feeling I had last night.
“Hey, a little help please,” Simon called up to the man on the overturned semi, waving his hand. The man jumped out of his seat, startled, and pointed his rifle at Simon.
“Hands where I can see them! Where the fuck did you come from?” he shouted, completely alert by the presence of a stranger. Simon raised his other hand in the air.
“I live down the street. Or, uh, I used to. I came into town last night. I’m trying to find out what’s going on. I was hoping you could help.”
The man looked back behind the fence, then shouted at someone. “We got a live one over here, should I let him in? He’s just a kid, pretty big, though.” Someone said something that Simon couldn’t make out. “Okay, kid, come over to the gate. When it opens, run inside. Maggie will be waiting. Don’t try anything stupid.”
Simon did as he was told, and when the gate went up, he ran inside. Two men and a woman were waiting on the other side. The bearded man kept his rifle on Simon. “Mind if we check your bags?” the woman asked, her voice calm and even. “It’s not every day we meet someone new.”
“Go ahead,” replied Simon. She bent over and riffled through Simon’s belongings. The woman was in her forties. Her long black hair was pulled up in a ponytail. She wore a gray t-shirt and jeans with a pair of combat boots. She had the look of a woman who could take care of herself. The two men looked like they were brothers. Both had receding hairlines and wore glasses. Their polo shirts and khakis gave them the look of used car dealers.
“Where did you come from?” asked the woman, apparently content that Simon was not an immediate threat. She took the shotgun from the bag and handed it to one of the brothers. Simon had expected he would lose the gun. He regretted not hiding it outside first. “You’ll get this back when you leave. You look well taken care of. We haven’t seen anyone walking these parts in months, no one living at least.”
“Are those monsters everywhere?” Simon asked, but he had a feeling he already knew the answer. The guard had looked more surprised to see Simon than Simon had when he saw his father. “Yesterday is the first I saw of any of this. I’m not sure exactly how I got here or what caused all this. I was hoping you might have answers.”
“Not the oddest story we’ve heard,” she said, handing Simon his bag. “You might want to get more shells for your shotgun. Two isn’t going to go very far. We might have a few we can spare.” She extended her hand. “I’m Maggie, by the way. I’m the head of security here. These two goons are Russell and Stan. They help me out from time to time. But mostly just brainstorm ways to keep this place running.” They both gave Simon a nod but didn’t speak.
“Thanks, I found the gun yesterday. This was all the ammo it came with. Are you gonna be able to tell me what is going on here?” Simon asked.
“We’ll leave that to the Mayor. He knows more than we do, being in charge and all. We have things to do, so we’re going to pass you off to him for the introductions.” They walked Simon up to the main building. Of the three buildings, it was the biggest. A golden dome sat on top, where an American flag blew in the wind. Once inside, they went up a flight of stairs and into an office at the end of the hall. Inside the office, a man stood near the wall behind a large wooden desk with his back turned away as he looked out the window.
“Thank you, Maggie. Have a seat, son.” He seemed to know they were there without turning around. Maggie and the others left the room. The man still didn’t turn around. “Where did you come from?” he asked.
“I came from my grandparents’ lake house. I walked into town last night and I saw the light from the tire fire. That’s how I found this place.” Simon took a seat. The chair was hard and wooden, it reminded him of his father, their times together in this very building, and of how he was still chained to a pole in their backyard.
“It’s not safe out there, you know. There are worse things than the monsters lurking in those woods these days. But I’m sure you have had your experiences, we all have.” He turned around to face Simon. He was middle-aged, probably in his late fifties. His hair was gray on the sides, but he still had a bit of youthfulness to his face. There were scars going down the right side of his face, like he had been clawed. He was wrinkling around the eyes but not much elsewhere. He wore a gray suit that gave off an aura of power. “People call me the Mayor. I never ran a town before. Not before all this happened. I was a construction worker before. But when shit went to hell and we needed somewhere to stay safe, I gathered some neighbors and close friends and we barricaded ourselves in here. Over the past two years, our defenses have become pretty formidable. It’s been nearly three months since someone has come knocking to get in. It makes me wonder where have all the people gone, the living people at least.” The Mayor sat in silence for a moment. Simon did as well, then he asked.
“Two years? It’s been two years? What happened? What caused all of this?” The Mayor gave Simon a look of confusion.
“Did you crawl out from under a rock?” he asked
“Something like that,” said Simon. “Yesterday is the first memory I have of any of this. Before then, everything was normal.”
“Consider yourself lucky then. It has been a veritable shitstorm. Not so much now; now, we get by, but in the beginning, it was bad. The things I saw people, good people, do just to get by… But that’s neither here nor there. If what you say is true, then I’m sure you’re wondering what led us here.” He took off his suit jacket and sat in the chair behind the desk. The desk was empty but for a few candles and notepads, and one picture frame, which Simon couldn’t see.
“I’m sure you remember the problems with North Korea. All of the tension finally came to a boil when they released their manifesto on the world and then cut off all relations with all other countries. For months, the world heard nothing out of them. Then they issued the timer. They said we had twelve hours. No demands. No other statements. They hacked into every TV station on the planet and set up a countdown timer. Twelve hours later, there was a high-pitched beeping sound, and then everything went black. Every electronic device in the world was wiped out. Or at least that’s what we think. No one knows how they did it. And more disturbing, no one knows why. A few days later, these monsters started showing up. My guess is that once the North Koreans wiped out all the electronics,
they released a gas into the atmosphere. Global chemical warfare. Anyways, when people would die, they wouldn’t stay dead anymore. I’m sure you’ve seen zombie movies before. That’s pretty much what happened, minus all the blood. Everyone who died came back as one of the monsters. They can only be stopped by destroying the brain. And they ooze this yellow pus. It’s like it replaced their blood, it seeps out of their mouths and any open wounds they may have. And they are filled with such anger. Their only desire, as far as I can see, is to kill living humans. At a distance, they are pretty peaceful, but once they lock on to a human, it’s a complete berserker rage. They’re fast and strong as hell. They will try to bite and rip you apart. That’s how I got this.” He pointed to the scars running down his face, “When they are finally destroyed, after a few hours, their bodies just break down and decompose. I’ve never seen anything like it. You would have to be crazy not to think that this and the North Korea thing are not connected in some way.” He paused and looked at Simon. Simon sat in silence, trying to process everything the Mayor had said. He remembered his dad talking about North Korea at the lake house. But this, all of this, was too much.
“I don’t even know what to say. It all sounds impossible. But I saw one of the monsters myself yesterday,” said Simon. “How do you know all of the power went out? I mean, like, everywhere?”
“Over the past two years, we have met people who have traveled long distances. And those people met people who traveled long distances. From as far south as Mexico and as far north as Canada, all of the stories have been the same—when the timer hit zero, everything went black. Electronics, cars, anything that used electricity at all was completely fried. Governments imploded in days. By the week’s end, it was anarchy. And the monsters started thinning everyone out pretty quickly. Now it gets rarer and rarer that we meet someone like you.”
Land of the Dogs (Book 1) Page 2
