After Life

by Jaron Lee Knuth

  Alex helped a whimpering Morgan to the top of the wall, her arms still shaking with fear. His body was cold and sweaty, and his stomach felt like it was full of acid. His eyes became dry and itchy.

  “I just killed someone” was all he could think, over and over.

  “Alex!” Mr. Peterson yelled from below.

  Alex looked over the side of the shelving he sat on the top of. Down below, standing at the base of the wall and looking into the interior set of doors, Mr. Peterson stood with his hands in the air.

  “They want you to get off their wall.”

  Day 24

  2:43 am

  A tall, wide shouldered man with a thick black beard held Mr. Peterson at knifepoint. The knife was gigantic, more for display and intimidation than for any utilitarian purpose. A much skinnier man was holding Emma’s arms behind her back. He looked the same age as the large man, but unhealthy. His skin was speckled red with blotches of white. He snarled, and when his lip lifted, it revealed only the only two teeth left in his mouth. Both men wore brand new clothes.

  Two floodlights sat on either side of the door, the boxes they used to be packed in still sat next to them. Both lights were plugged into battery-powered generators and were pointed outwards, but shone bright enough to light up the entryway.

  Alex’s mind tried to work fast. He needed to figure out how to talk the group out of this situation, but all he could think about was Ethan. Alex saw his face and the look of shock as he fell to his death.

  Guilt was hovering over him, waiting for him to relax and allow his mind to dwell so that it could strike. He knew if he allowed those thoughts to enter he would be crushed by the weight of it all, and so his mind refused to relax. It flooded his thoughts with memories of Morgan, and how he had done it to save her. He was the hero.

  Behind the two men covering the Petersons was a man a few years older than Alex. His skin was dark, with black hair trimmed short, and large sideburns that covered his very rounded cheeks. His eyes looked friendly behind square glasses, in sharp contrast to his bare arms covered in tattoos and the large fire axe he held in his hand.

  “Are there any more of you?” the bearded man asked, as Morgan climbed down.

  “No,” Alex answered. “The rest… It’s just us.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “We came-” Morgan started, but found herself gasping.

  “We came from Minneapolis,” Alex finished for her. “We were heading toward Wisconsin. We just stopped here to… to look for supplies.”

  The man’s eyebrows curved, as if he was pondering what Alex had told him.

  “My name is Alex, this is Morgan, and those are the Petersons, Mike and Emma.”

  Emma struggled with the skinny man that held her, finally shouting, “Let me go!”

  The bearded man nodded at the skinny man and Emma was released, allowing her to run to her father.

  “I’m Harold,” the bearded man said, his eyes never showing anger. “The man with the axe is Nathan and the one who was nice enough to unhand the girl is Jesse. Now that we’re nice and acquainted, how about you hand over your shotgun?”

  Alex shrugged and slung the gun off his shoulder, then tossed it to the bearded man saying, “Take it. I don’t have shells for it anyway.”

  Harold caught the gun in one flabby arm and nodded. “Thanks.”

  “We didn’t come here to start any trouble,” Alex said. “We saw your lights, and we didn’t know anyone else was alive.”

  Harold slung the shotgun over one shoulder and slid his knife into a leather sheath on his belt. His fingers scratched his hairy chin before he spoke. “Jesse and I will go tell Owen what we found. Nathan, put these guys in the break-room until we figure out what to do.”

  Jesse and Harold walked into the darkness, but Alex could see a glow coming from the back of the store, near where the electronics department was.

  They walked through the grocery section, with only Nathan's flashlight to light their way. The shelves were ransacked, with boxes, cans, and packages of food scattered across the floor. Trash littered the aisles, and the smell of rotten vegetables and fruit was putrid in the air.

  “Who is Owen?” Mr. Peterson asked, while Nathan led them toward the back of the store.

  “Owen is…” Nathan hesitated. “He’s in charge.”

  “In charge?” Alex asked, surprised at the explanation.

  “I met him when the outbreak first happened,” Nathan explained. “I knew something big was happening, and I wanted to beat the rush for food and whatever else I would need.”

  Nathan pushed the swinging doors open that blocked off the back area of the store. A skinny hallway, lined with employee lockers, led deeper into the back rooms and eventually to the break-room. Alex remembered it all well, but the back area felt oddly empty. What was normally filled with carts, returned or defective items, and employees scampering around on their breaks, was stagnant and still. It was like nothing had been touched in weeks.

  “By the time I got here,” Nathan continued, “I was far from the only one looking for supplies. This place was a mad house. People were running through the aisles, knocking each other over, yanking things out of each other’s carts. The employees were trying their best, but…”

  When they reached the break-room, Nathan held the door open and shined the flashlight into the room. The group shuffled into the doorway, and Alex tried to push away the feeling he was being put into a prisoner’s cell.

  “From what people have said, someone was trampled near the camping stuff.” Nathan was visibly struggling through his story, unhappy to relive the events. “Somebody actually dying made everyone stop. People were shocked back into reality when they realized the consequences of their actions. They actually slowed down and started to help each other.” Nathan took a deep breath, fighting past his inner barriers so that he could move on with his story. “It didn’t take long for the woman who died to get back up. She started biting the employees who were trying to cover up her body with a blanket. In the chaos that followed, the infection spread fast. People just ran, grabbing what they had in their carts and running for the doors. The violence followed them.”

  Everyone in the group had taken a seat at the tables in the break-room. Morgan scanned the vending machines, but saw only empty rings behind the broken glass. The soda machines were opened, showing their empty shelves inside. Nathan stood by the door holding the only light, but didn’t give the appearance he was standing guard. His stance held no aggression, or defiance. He truly seemed to be opening up.

  “Once the infected were outside, it was Owen that figured out how to lock the doors. At first we thought we were just going to be waiting for the police.” Nathan shrugged and his head dropped. “Obviously we were wrong. Over the days, it was Owen that brought everyone together. It was Owen that really showed these people… he showed them that they didn’t need to give up. They didn’t need to change who they were to survive. He reminded us all that we’re still human.”

  Alex wanted to discuss the topic, but his mind felt useless, still occupied with visions of Ethan’s face as he was torn apart. Alex held his stomach as it churned, sending cold shivers down his back. His nerves were twisting his insides, punishing him for his resistance to the guilt.

  “How many people live here?” Morgan asked.

  Nathan cleared his throat before he answered. “There’s twelve of us now.” He cleared his throat again. “Those that didn’t run outside and die in the parking lot, died while we tried to build a barrier for the doors. We tried stacking up the shopping carts first, but it was a dumb, knee jerk idea. The carts were weak and those things started knocking the wall over within a few days. By the time we got the shelves moved in from the grocery department…”

  “I’m sorry,” Morgan weakly offered him.

  “It’s okay. I didn’t know those people. I know that sounds horrible, but so many people have died that…” Nathan shrugged, casting off his inner contemp
lation. “My old lady is the one I’m worried about. She was pregnant with my-” Nathan stopped mid-sentence to lift his glasses and wipe his eyes with an open palm. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I just get lost in my thoughts sometimes.”

  Alex held up his hand. “It’s okay. I think we’re all a bit lost.”

  The group sat in silence in the near dark for a few long minutes, eyes darting around the room, taking in their surroundings. Alex had been in the room many times before and could not help but get lost in the decorations covering the walls. Photos for a “cutest baby picture contest,” results for the money collected on “jeans day,” and reminders of the company motto filled the walls with bright colors that were muted in the darkness.

  Alex found himself deep in the daydreams of how simple his past used to be when the door opened and an aged man walked in. The man’s frame had a thin height and the light from Nathan’s flashlight accentuated the man’s white hair. His eyebrows were curly and random, casting white wisps of hair in every direction. A permanent scowl etched onto his thin-skinned forehead was barely masked by the man’s smile.

  He held out his hands in a warm acceptance and introduced himself. “Hello! My name is Owen.”

  The group mumbled their introductions weakly, fighting past their own exhaustion. Owen nodded as each person said their name and quietly repeated the name to himself.

  “And where are you traveling from?” Owen asked, crossing his arms across his tight flannel.

  “Minneapolis,” Mr. Peterson answered, showing a certain annoyance with the upbeat attitude of the old man.

  “Really!” Owen sounded excited. “How on earth did you get out?”

  “Yesterday.” Alex let himself speak, pushing aside his thoughts. “The military, or someone set off a bomb in the middle of the city. Our building was caught in the blast, but we managed to survive. When we went outside, there were only a few corpses left standing.”

  “Oh, that is just wonderful!” Owen said, his voice sounding overly dramatic and grandfatherly. “The military! We hadn’t heard anything on the radio. We tried to keep our hopes up.” Owen glanced at Nathan who gave him a forced smile and a nod of agreement.

  “I’m still not convinced we’re winning, or that we should expect rescue anytime soon,” Alex said, his voice sounded like sandpaper. “The guys on the radio, they made it sound like this was a last ditch effort.”

  “Well,” Owen smiled, clapping his hands together. “That’s just fine. As long as it worked.”

  “I didn’t say it did,” Alex said, his voice coming from the darkness. “Those bombs made a mess of things, but there are plenty of bodies still walking around out there.”

  “What do you mean? You were able to escape.”

  “As soon we got a few miles from my building the roads were covered in them.”

  Owen’s smile faded away. He looked to the floor, gathering his thoughts before he spoke. “Perhaps once they clear out the highest concentration they can move in and clear out the few remaining.”

  “The few?” Alex’s voice was beginning to strain, anger boiled through his lips.

  Morgan finally stood up from her chair and spoke loudly, nearly yelling her question. “Have you looked outside lately? Your parking lot is full of those things.”

  Owen shook his head, still smiling. “No, I haven’t been near the doors recently. There’s really no reason to. We have everything we could possibly need right here. Now listen, most of the people are still asleep, so I’m gonna ask you to stay in here until they wake up and then we can make some proper introductions. No sense scaring anyone.”

  The group made no sounds of agreement, but neither did they make any noise of debate.

  “Fine,” Owen said, walking out the door. “We’ll see you in a few hours.”

  Nathan left the flashlight behind and followed Owen, leaving the group in utter silence. No one talked, or dared speak their thoughts, too lost in a flood of emotional drain to make any sense. They curled up on the tables, resting their heads on packages of napkins Alex found in a cupboard.

  They lay in safety and silence, yet no one slept.

  Day 24

  7:05 am

  Morning came slowly, the silent hours of the night creeping by. Without windows, it was Nathan that alerted the group to the sunrise.

  “Morning everyone.” His voice came from the doorway, shining a flashlight into the room. “If you want to follow me, I can take you to the bathroom.”

  The group crisscrossed through the clothing departments, noticing the rows of empty racks. It looked like the survivors had picked most of the shelves clean. In the distance Alex saw the same glow of lights from the back of the store near the electronics. He swore he heard music too.

  As they got to the front of the store, and passed the kitchen appliances, the aisles looked a little neater. The goods kept there were unneeded by looters or the men and women living in the store.

  The pharmacy however, was nearly empty.

  The group finally came to the western side of the store and walked into the seasonal department. During the right time of year a person could find holiday ornaments, Halloween costumes, or back-to-school supplies on the shelves. In the beginning of summer, the area was stocked with gas grills, lawn furniture, and gardening supplies.

  “Head up to the front. Toward the daylight. One at a time,” Nathan said, smiling. “There’s a small outdoor area that’s fenced off. It was used to store the shade plants, but it has a sewer drain you can-” Nathan shrugged, assuming he didn’t have to explain any further.

  Morgan held out her arms, ushering Emma to go first. The young girl didn’t make eye contact, but just shook her head, holding her hands close to her chest.

  “I’ll go with you, okay?” Morgan said, holding out her hand.

  Emma hesitated before she eventually grasped Morgan’s hand, and the two of them walked toward the daylight coming from the front entrance to the department. A large metal shelving unit had been placed in front of the doors, but large windows surrounded the roof, letting in plenty of light. In the corner of the department was a large, metal wall that had been raised up to reveal a small outdoor enclosure.

  The area had only a few shelves in it, lined with dead plants. Two of the walls were made of a chain-link fence with a green tarp lining the inside. The roof was open to the air. The cement floor was stained with wetness around a large sewer drain in the middle of the room. A plastic lawn chair with a hole cut in the middle sat over the top. Outside in the early morning air, the moans of the dead could be heard from the parking lot.

  “Oh gross,” Emma said, covering her nose even though it didn’t actually stink.

  “I would tend to agree,” Morgan said, stepping toward the makeshift toilet.

  Once the group had all taken their turn, Nathan led them back toward the electronics department. As they walked past the toy department, Alex shook his head in disgust. He worked in that section of the store and used to be obsessed with collecting the tiny plastic action figures that hung unused and useless on their pegs. They were just shadows that mocked his former life.

  The sound of country music came from behind a set of shelves that had been moved to encircle an area normally full of CDs, DVDs and video games. In the circle of shelves, office chairs and a few short couches were arranged in small groupings. Most of them surrounded one large table. A group of people sat around the table eating breakfast. Three children sat on the floor near a pile of toys, eating dry cereal from the box. A woman helped one of the boys change out of his shirt and into a clean one. She stopped moving completely and stared when Nathan walked into the circle with the group.

  “Hey everyone, can I have your attention?” Nathan said, smiling big as he held out his arms to present the group.

  “Yes, yes, everyone quiet down, I have some people I want you to meet,” Owen said, cutting in and standing up from his place at the breakfast table. He walked over to the group with
the same grandfatherly smile he had the night before.

  Placing his hand on Mr. Peterson’s shoulder, he began the introductions, remembering every one of their names without any help. He introduced the Petersons as father and daughter and Morgan as Alex’s girlfriend. Morgan smirked at Alex.

  The group of Wal-Mart survivors nodded their heads and mumbled hellos, glancing at each other with apprehension toward the newcomers.

  “Now, for us.” Owen said, taking a few steps closer to the table.

  “This is Brenda Barker,” Owen placed his hands on a middle-aged woman’s shoulders. Her brown curly hair was cut short, and the woman wore far too much make-up, which looked even more out of place in the world than it most likely had in the past. Her smile was slight and awkward, looking like she was using all her strength to force the curl in her lip.

  “She was…” Owen cleared his throat. “She is a teacher here in Forest Lake. She teaches science.” He smiled as he moved down the row to the woman sitting next to Brenda.

  “This is Rhonda.” Owen squeezed her shoulders as he said her name, making her look up at him and smile. “She’s in charge of our food supply, so if you get hungry you’ll have to let her know.” Alex recognized the bleached blond woman with leathery brown skin as an employee. She was quite a few years older than him, and she worked in a different department, so he only knew her in passing. He watched her eyes as she made no reaction of acknowledgment, so he said nothing, assuming she didn’t recognize him.

  “This is Herman Leblanc.” Owen motioned toward a middle-aged man with a receding blond hairline and glasses. The man wiped his mouth with a napkin and held up his hand to wave. “He was traveling down from Canada to a seminar in Minneapolis.” Herman, still chewing his food, nodded at Owen’s explanation.