by Taja Kartio
We Are What Remain
By Taja Kartio
Copyright © 2017 by Taja Kartio
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Dedicated to my number one fans, Mom and Dad.
Fall
One
My neighborhood used to be so lively. Every other nearby resident had one of those annoying barking dogs. All the kids were together in the streets, screaming and laughing in the midst of some game they played. Festivities were weekly with the neighbors whether it was a baby shower, birthday party, a barbecue, or a 'Welcome to the neighborhood' party. If not some kind of celebration, then it was yard work. Not exactly my forte but the neighbors did seem to mow their lawns to perfection and tend to their cultivated plants often. In other words, there was almost never a quiet day. Activity had been on a continuous loop. At least, it had been until close to two weeks ago.
Now there was nothing. No dogs. No kids. No neighbors. That life and motion was gone.
With the exception of the heavy raindrops on the roof, my home was silent. I sighed softly and turned away from the window of the living room and let the curtain fall back into place. I had come downstairs to look for something to eat and if I took too long, my brothers would come looking for me. I stepped around the shattered glass coffee table and recoiled at the massive puddle of coagulated blood staining the wood flooring.
The kitchen was a wreck. Plates were smashed, tupperware was scattered, drawers and cabinet doors were wide open. I did my best to step around the mess with the toes of my boots but I couldn't help but cringe when I stepped on broken glass or shattered China.
The cupboards didn't hold anything that sounded too overwhelmingly appetizing. Not that there was much left anyway. My brothers and I had each brought a full arm's load of food upstairs days ago, and none of us had come back down here since then. My measly choice selection over the food we did still have was disappointing, so this afternoon's poignant meal was an unopened box of Captain Crunch and the last of the Sunbelt granola bars.
My brothers were exactly where I left them. The eldest, Kale, still beside the window with a .45 in his hand and Beckett, the second oldest, sitting back up against the wall on one of the three mattresses we'd laid down on the floor.
Beckett winced at the box of cereal and few granola bars I unloaded in front of him. Kale's expression soured into a grimy pout, "Is that it? I'm hungry."
I slumped down next to Beckett on the mattress, "Well no, this isn't all that's left but this is what sounded good out of everything down there."
"And what is left?" Beckett asked.
They asked this question every time I came up with food. I picked up the cereal box and waved it in front of my face, "Another one of these guys, a near empty bag of tortilla chips, and a lot of canned fruit."
Beckett frowned at my depressing report, "There has to be more than that."
I shrugged and forged an exaggerated sigh, "Well if we'd gone grocery shopping like I kept saying we needed to, we'd be able to hold up in this place a lot longer."
Kale eyed me with a subtle glare, "I'm feeling that was directed at me specifically."
"It was."
"For the hundredth time, I'm sooo sorry that fixing our fridge was at the top of my priority list."
It was a bit of a coincidence (and a bit cliche) that our fridge had to break down two days before everything went to hell. We still miraculously had electricity but if we still had a functioning fridge, we could have had more than just cereal, we could have had milk and cereal.
"You don't sound very sorry. We needed to get groceries even before our fridge kicked the bucket but you kept putting it off."
Kale moved toward the bed with an outstretched arm. I shoved the cereal box into his hand and earned a dark scowl, "Then next time you can call the fridge dude and try to get him to figure out what the problem is."
"How much do we really have Dani?" Beckett interjected quickly, hoping to forestall the argument he knew was coming.
"We have food," I said as I tore open the wrapper of a granola bar. I took a bite and spoke in between chews. I wasn't usually one for poor manners but it pissed Kale off and that's what I was aiming for. By the dirty look he continued to burn into my forehead, it was working, "We're not going to starve tomorrow but maybe we will in like a week or so."
Silence followed and I watched Beckett draw his eyes onto Kale, who immediately avoided the look by turning to the window again. A few days after the initial breakout in our small part of the world, the local news said word that military operations were supposedly scouring through every and all residential areas for survivors but hell, our small town of Litchfield wasn't going to be first on the rescue list. The alleged quarantine zone in Minneapolis was an hour and a half away and there were hundreds of neighborhoods to go through before ours, yet Kale seemed to think that at any moment, tanks and hyped up Jeeps would be rolling through the streets to take our hands and bring us to the freaking Promised Land or something.
"Kale..."
"No."
Beckett frustratedly threw a hand up and a single astonished laugh emitted, "We have to leave eventually!"
Kale spun, "We're not leaving!"
"Not forever!" The rolling of Beckett's eyes matched the rolling movement of his head, "Just to go find some food! Supplies! Anything! I don't want to run out of things to eat and then have to listen to the two of you complain about being hungry all the time."
Kale glanced at me, then brows scrunched together, "I don't complain about being hungry all the time."
"You were just complaining about being hungry two minutes ago!"
He got the eldest there. Kale shook his head and dismissed the point quickly, "Okay whatever, it doesn't matter though because we're not leaving right now. Dani said we had enough to get by for another week so we're gonna stay in here for another week. That's that. End of discussion."
I watched Beckett rub a hand down his face in a nettled manner but he didn't reply as he knew he couldn't waver Kale's decision.
The room fell into a silence and after a few minutes of us all chewing our unsatisfactory meal, Beckett turned the TV on. The news of course, because we all loved watching all the chaos unfolding throughout the world. The headline said it all,
ZOMBIES? CRISIS WORSENS
Some virus that was first spotted somewhere out in the Middle East. It spread like the same bullshit in the movies, blood and saliva. Person gets bitten, bitten person turns into zombie, zombie bites person. The whole circle of reanimated corpses and crap. I hadn't seen the cycle personally, not all the way through. I'd seen the zombies of course, and I'd seen them take down and bite others, but I have yet to watch a bitten person turn. I wasn't looking forward to it and I hoped it was something I never had to experience. My chances of that wish coming true were probably about as high as this military rescue squad Kale was so keen on waiting for.
The problem had reached all four corners of the planet but society was still somehow functioning. Governments were still up and running. Airlines still flew and ships still sailed but I wondered how long all of that would really last. All the zombie lore in movies and books made it seem that the world would go dark in a matter of hours, that the undead took over and overwhelmed all of us in a tiny time frame. It's been two weeks since Patient Zero hit the big scr
een and we still had power in our home. But how long would it be until we were deprived of even that? I couldn't imagine what we would be doing then, or anyone else for that matter. If there even was anyone else around. Right now, around here, it looked like my brothers and I were the last normal living people on Earth.
I often wondered what had become of my friends, everyone I'd grown up with. I noted that some of my classmates were still on social media, but I didn't care too much for them. It was the group of friends I'd been spending my time with for the last few years that worried me. None of them answered my concerning calls or texts. Were they still alive? Were they mindless monsters? Or were they a pile of bowels half eaten on the streets? In my mind, that just seemed like the worst ending of them all.
"You haven't taken a bite," Beckett nudged me with his shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts, "Still got that stomach ache?"
I looked down at the granola bar still sitting in my hand patiently, "Ya. I guess but I think it's a little better than it was before."
He pointed at the Ibuprofen bottle on the end table beside the door, "I'd take a couple more of those then. Hopefully that does the trick this time."
Two
I couldn't sleep. Usually, I was rather fond of the thunderstorms. I loved storms but tonight was somehow different. Outside was dark. Dense clouds drew low and casted the world in a haunting backdrop, but inside the house it was much darker, almost black. It wasn't necessarily the darkness that scared me as much as it was the noise. The raindrops sounded like buckets falling from the sky and the wind was a tsunami that whistled without any signs of stopping. The oppressive thunder shook the entire house and the lightning was a brilliant shock of white that only illuminated my surroundings for a quarter of a second.
In between all this noise was the core of my sudden fear. They sounded like metal against metal, the shrill of pigs. Their calls were estranged in every possible way. Even over the storm, I could hear them clearly. Their sound was distinctive and nearly impossible to miss.
My body suddenly jerked when cold fingers took a rooted grip on my shoulder.
"Relax Dani. It's just me," Kale whispered.
"Why're you trying to scare the hell out of me?" I caught a flash of his face as lightning lit up the room. He was rolled over on his side, brows observantly knitted in my direction. Had he been staring at me the entire time?
"I wasn't trying to. You never used to be afraid of thunderstorms."
I shook my head, "It's not the thunderstorm."
There was a short pause, "Them?"
I nodded, more to myself than anything, "They sound like they're right outside the house. Like, right on the front porch."
Right on cue, another screech cracked in the air that was then followed by a loud clap of thunder. I felt my stomach twist and drop like a sack of bricks.
Kale let go of my shoulder and I wondered if he was just going to silently bear this torture with me but instead, another blanket was thrown over my body.
"Come here, kid." I heard him mumble lowly.
I haven't felt the need to sleep pressed against either of my brother's sides for years. I was eighteen but was right now acting more like a six-year-old clinging on to her mommy because of a bad dream. Could anyone really blame me, though? This really was a bad dream. I had to admit that the warmth of my Kales body was comforting. I hugged his arm and snugged my forehead against his shoulder. His head lolled to the side and his cheek rested on the top of my skull. My trembling didn't disappear entirely but I did feel a whole lot safer.
"Thanks, Kale."
"Enough."
I wish I could have seen the small, self-righteous smile that was probably twitching on the ends of his lips, "You like it."
I giggled when he jerked his arm in reply.
Hours past and even with the much-needed comfort of my brother, I still didn't get much sleep and I could tell Kale didn't either. His body cringed at the bomb like strokes of thunder and his muscles tensed with every shrill cry of the Infected. He would never admit it, not in a million years, but I was positive he was just about as scared as I was right now.
It was going to be a long night.
Three
I didn't ever remember falling asleep but I was guessing I wasn't passed out for very long. I didn't feel well rested and I could feel it with every sluggish movement.
Beckett wasn't in the room at all, probably using the bathroom, and Kale was back at his post beside the bedroom window. His muddy expression was unwavering.
"How's it look outside?" I asked quietly.
His head shook softly, "About as great as you think it could be."
I stretched and joined him. Dark clouds still threatened to tear at the sky but the remnants of last night's storm were obvious. The wet pavement looked like black ice, branches of all shapes and sizes were scattered, and the tree in Mr. Anderson's yard had toppled over and fallen onto his car in his driveway.
What I hated most about the view was the gruesome slaughter of bodies. From my current position, I could see three still figures sprawled about on the ground. Even in the semi-darkness, they were a bloody mess. Eaten out and so disheveled that it was hard to tell if they were man or woman. Their attackers were nowhere to be seen. It made my stomach queasy. Many of these people had been family friends. Most of them had helped my brothers and I years ago, supporting us through some really rough times. Seeing them in such a grotesque state was pretty appalling and completely heartbreaking.
I caught Kale's reflection in the window and watched as his lips quirked gloomily. Then in one soft motion, his arm was brought up and draped around my shoulders. My face fell into his jacket and my arms unceremoniously wrapped around him. I should have been crying but tears didn't want to well up. Maybe it was shock.
Beckett's footsteps sounded a moment later. He came up beside Kale and I at the window and sifted a heavy breath, "Where do you think they all go?"
"Who?" Kale asked.
"Who do you think I'm talking about? The Infected."
Beckett loathed the word 'zombie'. He said it sounded too childish and corny, that our situation wasn't a page ripped out of a Jonathan Maberry book. 'Infected' just sounded more serious to him in a way. Kale called him a sissy for it but we all ended up going along with it anyway.
I felt Kale shrug his shoulders, "You heard them last night too, huh?"
"It was kind of difficult not to."
He was right about that one. I wondered if he got about as much sleep as Kale and I did.
It sounded as though Kale was going to reply but only a partial, unrecognizable syllable was said before he cut himself off. The arm he wrapped around me tightened and the hand he had on my shoulder clamped a little bit harder. It didn't hurt. It just felt more instinctively.
Then his voice was a low whisper, "I think that answers your question."
I twisted my neck and turned my head, no longer buried in Kales jacket but now faced toward the window curiously. A little girl had stumbled into view. Her feet shuffled across the pavement and around the stiff corpses with little to no trouble. She seemed unconcerned of the bodies around her. Actually, she acted like she was completely oblivious to them, treating them as they were merely small roadblocks. At first glance, I would have figured she was just a normal girl but watching her jerky movements more closely, I knew what she was.
"She's just a kid." Beckett breathed.
I didn't know how old she was but she had to have been no older than ten. She couldn't have been older than that. Tiny legs supported a tiny body. The white nightgown she wore was stained in a color as dark as the clouds above. I recognized her by her hair, silver locks that dangled over her shoulders in matted lumps. I'd only seen her a few times but she was one of those kids always playing in the street with her friends. Even without formally knowing her, it was difficult to grasp that a week ago she'd have been a normal kid and now she was just another mindless abnormality. She didn't even get a chance to really live.
>
"There's nothing we can do for her now," Kale mumbled.
Beckett moved, his eyes peering up the street where the girl had come from, "I don't think she was making those noises by herself last night. There has to be more somewhere nearby."
"That's a given," Kale muttered, "But I would rather not know where they all are."
Then the girl stopped abruptly. Her neck snapped around as the stillness in the night was disrupted. Something had caught her attention. I followed her gaze to a house. One of our neighbors had opened his front door was now hesitantly standing on his front porch with a startled expression. I felt a wave of acid swell in my belly.
"Who is that?" Kale squinted.
"Alex Baker," Beckett answered shortly. He placed his hand on the window frame and peered closer out the glass.
Alex was new, moving in only a few months prior. He stood roughly the same height as Kale, six foot but with a completely opposite body build. Thin but not exactly scrawny. Short, bushy brown hair and sharp, prominent cheekbones. I'd only met him once while he was getting the mail. A bit quiet but maybe that was because there wasn't really much to say other say. The neighborhood had thrown a usual ‘Welcome to the Neighborhood’ party but I'd only really gone for the food.
I thought my brothers and I were the last living souls in our neighborhood. Seeing even a remotely familiar face would be euphoric but in the circumstance that he was standing out in the open as fresh meat, I could just be watching another fellow survivor go down.
"What is that idiot doing?" Kale muttered.
Alex still stood on the porch but it was apparent he knew something my brothers and I didn't.
"Should we do something?" I turned from the window and looked up at Kale and then turned toward Beckett who had moved his own eyes from the window and onto the eldest questioningly. We could help Alex, help him realize that whatever he's doing will most likely get him killed, whatever that was.
