Lost in the Apocalypse

by Mortimer, L. C.

  “Why are they just now getting out?” Emily wondered aloud, but then she saw the window on the side of the building. While the front door was closed and looked sturdy enough, a branch had fallen onto the side of the building, shattering two of the windows.

  “You can thank our tornado for that,” Neil said, and headed toward the building with his gun held high.

  “This is gonna be fun,” Robert grinned. Emily wondered about his use of the word “fun,” but followed.

  It looked like someone had turned in the bar and no one had gotten out alive before the tornado knocked a hole in the window. Now there was an Infected hanging half out of the window and another one standing by, staring at it.

  The Z turned as the group approached and stared at them. Neil hesitated for just a moment, then shot it. He missed and shot again, this time hitting it between the eyes.

  The Infected that was in the window dropped to the ground and another one took its place, slowly drawing its body over the broken glass, not crying from pain as the shards tore into its clothing and flesh.

  The Z on the ground stood up, righting itself, and turned to the group. Again, Neil shot it.

  “Save some for the rest of us, will ya?” Robert called out, but he didn’t make a move to help. Neil stood in position, waiting as Infected after Infected crawled out of the tavern and he, in turn, shot them. Soon there was a pile of Infected, so the ones that came out of the window had to crawl over the bodies before plopping to the ground. Soon Neil was shooting them before they even stood, just creating a long pile of bodies.

  “About done?” Robert asked when Neil shot the last one.

  “About.” He answered, shoving his gun in the waistband of his jeans. He had stopped twice to reload and Emily bet he was about out of bullets, but it didn’t seem to stop him. He walked over to the door of the tavern and kicked it three times before stopping.

  “Anyone have an axe?” He muttered, turning back to the group.

  “Better idea,” Butter said. He walked forward, looked at each of them pointedly, and turned the doorknob. The door swung open and light poured into the bar. He took a step back and waited until the first Infected came wandering out toward the light. “Dumbass,” he muttered and punched the first Infected in the head. Knocked off balance, it wobbled and tumbled to its knees. He gripped the bat in his hands tightly, then swung and knocked creature down. Another few hits and he knew it wasn’t getting up.

  “Who wants to go first?” Neil asked, staring at the doorway. Undoubtedly there were more. There were always more. Emily gripped the .38 special, running her fingers over the metal of the revolver. She should name it, she thought suddenly. Wasn’t it good luck to name your gun? Maybe that’s why she didn’t have any.

  “I’ll go,” she offered, but she knew Neil would brush her aside. He was no feminist. She barely knew him, but she realized he would be a firm believer in the idea that men should protect women at all costs. Emily took a step forward, but Robert held up a hand and motioned for her to stay.

  “Age before beauty, sweetheart,” he said, and stepped inside. He didn’t bring a flashlight, just his gun, but Emily knew he wouldn’t need it. There would be enough light from the broken window and the open door for him to see. She heard two shots and then silence. A pause.

  Neil stepped up and went inside, followed by Butter. Emily came last. She stepped inside and tried not to retch at the smell of body odor and death. The tavern itself was a wreck.

  What had once been a fantastic place to get a beer or just have fun was now filled with rotting body parts and blood. The floor was sticky and Emily cringed as she lifted her boots and heard the telltale squish of blood beneath them. Tables and chairs were knocked over and broken. Broken glasses and bottles covered the floor.

  Who had been the first bitten? Had someone come in for a drink with friends after getting their vaccine? Had they been scratched by an Infected, but thought it was no big deal? Had they started to feel feverish before the change happened?

  Had it hurt?

  “Emily!” Voices brought her back to the present and she turned. The guys were gathered around the bar. Robert was bleeding.

  “What happened?” She asked, running over. “Did one bite you?”

  “Fucking glass,” he muttered, motioning to the countertop. He had obviously been reaching for a bottle of liquor when a broken glass cut his wrist. Her mouth formed a small “o” as she stared at him. Was he infected now, too? The silent question hung in the air, but Neil ripped his shirt off and covered Robert’s arm with it.

  “That should stop the bleeding,” he said, running a hand through his hair. Obviously, he didn’t know what to do now. If there was blood on the glass, there was no telling when Robert might turn. Then again, maybe he was safe. Maybe he was okay.

  “If there wasn’t blood on the glass,” Emily began, but Robert silenced her with a glare.

  “Don’t be stupid, girl,” he said. Then he shook his head, his eyes lowered. “Butter, Em, give me a minute alone with Neil, all right?”

  Emily nodded and turned to go. She wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure what more she could do. Before she left, Robert pressed a bottle in her hands.

  “Take this,” he said. “Hang onto it for me.” She took the whiskey and nodded, then quietly walked out of the tavern. Butter patted Robert’s shoulder, but was silent. He followed Emily out.

  “What does he want to talk to Neil about?” Emily asked. Butter gave her a pointed look. “What?” She stared at him, then she realized what he was saying without words. She screeched. “No! We don’t know if he’s actually infected.” She turned to run back into the tavern, but Butter held her wrist. She thought about hitting him with the bottle, but didn’t. It was a gift. Only, she thought Robert was asking her to hold it while Neil patched him up.

  She didn’t know what he really meant.

  She heard low voices murmuring, talking. What was there to discuss? Could Neil talk some sense into Robert?

  Was he really going to ask his friend to end it all?

  She tried to pull Butter toward the door, but he held her fast, and told her to stop.

  “It’s his choice, love,” he whispered. “He doesn’t want to see himself turn into one of the monsters.”

  Chapter 13

  He shouldn’t have to do it. Neil sat on a barstool in front of Robert, staring at the now-red cloth wrapped around his arm.

  “You promised,” Robert said, but Neil just shook his head.

  “I didn’t mean like this,” he protested.

  “I don’t care what you meant,” Robert growled. “A promise is a promise.” He looked away, then down at his arm, the finally back to Neil. “Don’t make me beg,” he said. His voice was almost a whisper, and it was almost enough to make Neil burst into tears right then.

  The truth was that he hadn’t known Robert that long. Not long enough to feel the deep bond he already did. He’d served with good men and women his entire career, but something about Robert was different.

  They had both experienced so much loss before this journey had started that they had instantly bonded. They knew, even without words, that sometimes a man loses so much that it changes him. Sometimes a man loses the things closest to him and it breaks him. Sometimes a man loses something he wanted more than anything else, and it darkens his soul.

  Robert had never judged Neil for the smudge on his heart.

  “We don’t know if you’re infected,” Neil said. He grabbed a bottle of vodka and opened it. He took a slow sip and passed it to Robert.

  “Vanilla vodka?” Robert raised an eyebrow. “Try again, son.”

  Neil handed him the rum, and that was met with a smile. He took a long swig, not even flinching as the alcohol made its way down his throat.

  He set it back on the counter, careful to avoid the glass, and turned back to Neil.

  “We both know there was blood on the glass,” Robert said. Neil felt like he was going to choke. A pit of despa
ir settled in his stomach and he felt physically ill, like he might vomit, like this might be it. Yeah, he had seen the glass, but what were the odds?

  What were the chances of surviving the initial outbreak, of traveling across an entire state, of surviving a fucking tornado, and then dying from a shard of broken glass in a tavern?

  “Life is a cruel fucking joke,” Neil said. Robert huffed in response.

  “You promised,” he said again, and this time Neil nodded.

  “I won’t let you down.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, each drinking slowly, lost in their own worlds. What was the right thing to say to your friend before you killed him? They didn’t have much time, Neil knew. Maybe it would take ten minutes or twenty, but before the hour was up, Robert would be a Type 2. He’d be a runner. He’d be a sprinter. He’d be the worst fucking kind of zombie and he’d eat them all.

  “Are you scared?” Neil asked. His voice was barely a whisper.

  Robert, always self-assured and smart-tongued, was silent this time. They could hear Emily complaining outside and chewing out Butter, but they tried to ignore her. This wasn’t about her, or any of them, really. It was about Robert. When he spoke, the man had tears in his eyes, and Neil knew he couldn’t wait much longer or Robert would do it himself.

  “I miss them,” he said, and Neil knew he was talking about his wife and daughter. CDC II had been taken so fast, Robert never had a chance to save them. His beautiful wife who was the director would never have left without the children in the daycare. She would have stayed. She wouldn’t have left a single child, especially their toddler. Never their toddler.

  Robert looked at his hands, and then he closed his eyes. Neil shot quickly. The sound radiated throughout the restaurant, loud and clear, followed by silence louder than anything he’d ever heard before.

  “God bless you, brother,” he whispered, and placed his hand on Robert’s shoulder. He was slumped forward over the bar, and Neil left him there, alone. He turned before he could cry over his friend, his brother, his partner. He turned before he could shoot himself, too, just to dull the pain.

  He turned and he walked out of the bar a changed man.

  A broken man.

  Chapter 14

  They walked home without speaking. Emily gripped the bottle of whiskey like it was a beacon of hope, when really, it was a symbol of death. They had lost so much. Was this really all there was? Death and emptiness?

  They got back to the house and Kari grinned when she saw them.

  “Hey! Did you find out where the Z’s were coming from?” Emily pushed past her and walked upstairs to her room. Butter and Neil came in behind her and Emily heard them whispering to Kari.

  She couldn’t listen to it.

  She went into her room, shut the door, and opened the whiskey. Her first swig burned on the way down. The second one warmed her.

  Neil came in and sat beside her so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. She felt the bed dip and then he took the bottle from her hands. She didn’t protest as he drank the whiskey. Obviously, today was going to be harder on him than anyone else.

  “We made a pact,” he said finally, as if in explanation.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Emily whispered.

  “He didn’t want to turn, didn’t even want to risk it. Didn’t want to wait. His wife and kid died, Em. He had nothing left to live for.”

  A tear slid down her cheek, but she shook her head, wishing it away.

  “I told him,” Neil continued, placing a hand on her knee, “that I would take care of him. If anything happened, I would be the one to do it. He promised the same for me.”

  “Was he scared?” She whispered. She should have said goodbye, should have realized what was happening when he gave her the bottle to hold.

  “He wasn’t scared,” Neil promised. “Didn’t feel a thing. He was ready, Em. He was done living without his family. He was done.”

  They sat there then, silent in the bedroom, staring at the walls and wishing for dreams that could never be.

  “I don’t want to be done living,” she whispered, and she placed her hand on top of Neil’s. He looked at it, then back up at her, then back at his hand. They sat in silence for awhile and he took another drink. Then Neil looked at Emily and she met his gaze.

  “Me neither.” He kissed her then, smashing the bottle of liquor between their bodies. He tasted like whiskey and she didn’t mind.

  For a little while, Neil could make her feel alive. He could make her feel whole.

  He could make her forget that everyone she had ever loved was dead.

  He could make things okay.

  For just a little bit.

  ***

  Kari and Cody were in the kitchen when Neil and Emily came downstairs. They gave Emily knowing looks, but said nothing.

  “Are we going to…” She wanted to ask if they were going to bury Robert. He was one of them.

  “We’re going to burn the building,” Neil said. “There are enough bodies close to us that I don’t like the idea of them attracting wolves or other do-gooders.”

  The concrete that surrounded the tavern would ensure the fire didn’t spread, and there was enough alcohol that it wouldn’t take much to light the building.

  “When?” She asked. Darkness was beginning to fall. They wouldn’t want to burn anything in the night.

  “Tomorrow,” Neil said. “Best to do it when flames aren’t going to attract a lot of attention.”

  “Here,” Kari thrust a bowl of soup in Emily’s hands.

  “It’s hot,” she said in surprise, almost flinching at the feeling of warmth in her hands. “The stovetop works?”

  “Propane,” Kari said with a smile. “There’s still a half tank out back.” Emily took the soup and grabbed a spoon, then took a seat at the wooden kitchen table.

  “This opens up a world of possibilities,” she said. “I wonder if the oven is propane, too.”

  “Electric,” Kari frowned. “I checked, but there isn’t much we can’t cook on the stove.”

  “We should ration it,” Neil commented, but Kari shook her head.

  “Do you know how long propane lasts? Even if we use it every day to cook, we’re going to be good all winter, at least.”

  He took the soup Kari offered him and sat down next to Emily.

  “Never thought I’d be so happy to have a bowl of chicken noodle,” he said, but Emily was quiet as she ate. She crumpled up some crackers and sprinkled them on the top, then slowly at her soup. She savored it, even though she knew there was plenty of it, because she didn’t want to waste any of the flavorful food.

  It had been so long since she’d had anything hot to eat that it felt like a huge treat, and it was nothing. It was just run-of-the-mill, straight-from-the-can, chicken soup.

  This was what her life had come down to.

  She finished eating and set her dishes beside the sink.

  “How are we going to wash them?” She asked Kari. “Water from the sink?”

  “No, let’s save it for showers,” she said. “As long as it lasts. We’ll use rain water for the dishes.”

  “Good idea.” Emily hadn’t thought of that.

  Kari pulled a bucket out from beneath the sink and placed the dirty dishes inside.

  “Since it hasn’t rained yet,” she said. “A cloth is going to have to do.” She grabbed a dry washcloth and wiped down each bowl. There was still a thin, grimy film on each bowl.

  “No, use water,” Emily said. “Just a little will be fine.”

  “Yeah, that wasn’t a good idea at all.” Kari frowned. She wet the cloth and wiped the bowls down again, followed by the pot. She lined them up on the counter to dry and hung the washcloth over the sink.

  “No luck finding out if there’s a well?” Emily asked.

  “Nah,” Kari shook her head. “I’m pretty sure this baby is hooked up to city water, so once the water in the hot water heater is gone, I think we’re SOL.”

>   “Maybe we can find a creek,” Emily offered helpfully. “There has to be something around here.”

  “I’ll go with you if you want to look,” Neil offered helpfully, but it was already dark and Emily was tired.

  “I’m just going to head to bed tonight,” she said. She wondered if she should kiss him or hug him before she went upstairs, but she didn’t want to be awkward in front of Kari, so she just smiled and nodded, then went upstairs feeling like a huge dork.

  A huge, broken, sad, lonely dork who just wanted something to live for.

  Chapter 13

  Weeks passed and the little ragamuffin group of survivors settled into a comfortable pattern. Neil moved into Emily’s room and no one said anything about it. Butter took Neil’s old room. He said he didn’t feel right staying in Robert’s room, said he didn’t want to be disrespectful.

  They boarded up the downstairs windows but left tiny peepholes on each side of the house. Neil and Butter reinforced the front door with extra wooden planks. They moved a dresser downstairs that they could slide behind the door at night. If anyone tried to come in, they’d have a hard time getting past that.

  The group left the upstairs windows alone, but Emily packed a backpack for each room with water, food, and a knife. If something happened and they needed to leave quickly in the middle of the night, they’d be prepared.

  They would at least have enough food to last them a week.

  Emily wrote in her notebook, but soon it was full and she had nothing left to write. She was bored. She found herself wandering around the house, looking for anything else to secure, but it felt safe enough. Butter wanted to build a fence around the property and began making plans for it. He had worked construction before enlisting, so he had some building experience.

  One day, he decided to go look for supplies. Emily volunteered to go with him. Kari was coming down with a cold, so she stayed at home while Cody watched over her. Neil wanted to clean his rifle.