Apocalypse Asunder

by David Rogers

  Taking two bullets that left wounds running right through someone from front to back was going to hurt until they finished healing; and those kinds of wounds needed a lot of healing. The bruises from the other bullets that had been stopped by his gear harness and armor vest were long since faded, and even his cracked ribs seemed almost completely normal . . . but the two bullet wounds were continuing to mend. Seven weeks had helped him recover quite a bit, but the wounds were still there. Inside, beneath the circles of scar tissue on his skin, where they weren’t readily visible; but there.

  “I still like south.” Jessica said, turning left in that direction. This was their eighth house in six weeks, and she had been steadily drifting south and southwest with each change. She never said why, and Austin never mentioned it, but she still wanted to put more distance between them and Knoxville Georgia. It was as simple as that.

  She didn’t like thinking about Knoxville, and she liked thinking about running into the people who’d started all the trouble there even less.

  The frequent changes were partially due to the need to keep scrounging up food, but mostly because without water pressure, they kept going through bathrooms in the houses and turning them foul. Closed doors, air fresheners, and even liberal use of cleaning supplies could only hold the smell of an unflushed toilet at bay for so long.

  One of the many problems the zombies had caused in the collapse of society and civilization was services Jessica had used to take for granted. Being without power was one thing; she’d endured that on occasion in the pre-zombie era the same as everyone did from time to time. Dealing with a lack of electricity wasn’t that bad, once you got used to it. She would prefer it be working, but she could manage without it. At least, for the basics of day-to-day living.

  But not being able to just turn a faucet and get water out was a massive chore. Even with only her and Candice and Austin to supply, she needed to come up with at least three gallons a day for drinking and cooking. Usually more like four, truth be told; and at least another couple gallons was needed for cleaning and washing the dishes and utensils.

  And every drop of it had to be boiled at length to render it safe for consumption; which had the effect of requiring her to carry and fetch a decent bit more than actually ended up in the water jugs and pots. Their supply cache included several gallons of bleach she’d found along the way – a few drops of that into a gallon of water would render it safe to drink – but she was trying to save it for emergencies where boiling the water wasn’t practical.

  Fetching water meant going outside and running the car to whatever creek or pond they’d found that was close. And doing that meant having to run the car some more to fill it back up with gas. She was having to do enough of that just for the basics without also needing to find an extra five or ten gallons a day to cover toilet flushing. Coming up with a few extra gallons every couple of days for sponge baths was already taxing enough.

  Every trip was a risk. The area was fairly quiet, zombie-wise, but rarely a day went by without seeing at least one or two. On the trips, they usually spotted a handful along the way. Filling and loading water jugs while zombies were around was not her idea of fun. Stressful didn’t even begin to describe how nerve wracking it was to keep alert and observant while squatting and splashing around near a stream.

  “You still up for some more scavenging while we look for another place to stop?” Austin asked her, his breath coming easier once they were on smooth pavement rather than lumpy dirt and gravel.

  Jessica nodded as she accelerated to forty miles per hour and held the vehicle’s speed steady there. Even though the zombie count out here was pretty low compared to what it had been back in Atlanta, she didn’t want one appearing in the road unexpectedly and possibly damaging the vehicle. She and Candice and Austin needed a working vehicle, and the SUV was a good one to have on hand with its tough construction and roomy interior.

  “Okay, you’re the boss.”

  Jessica glanced at him briefly, giving him a narrow eyed look, though she smiled slightly. “You like saying that too.”

  He grinned at her. “It helps take my mind off having been shot.” She groaned, and Austin laughed carefully, clearly going easy on his ribs. “I was you know. Twice.”

  “We know.” Candice said from the back seat.

  “Oh great, double teaming me again.”

  Jessica rolled her eyes. “You started it.”

  * * * * *

  “That looks pretty good.” Jessica said, bringing the SUV to a halt in the middle of the road. Everyone looked out the left side windows. The house was another rural two-story structure, of a sort with the others they’d been staying in. This one looked a little better maintained than most; fresh paint, tight gutters, a roof that showed no loose or dislodged shingle sheets. Like someone had taken care of it before the apocalypse got in the way.

  It was comfortably far back from the road, but had only a faded stretch of weedy overgrown grass outlined with rocks for a driveway. If there had been wheel tracks through the grassy ‘driveway’, they had yielded to the unchecked growth of grass and weeds. The usual scattering of trees was present across the large expanse of land surrounding the house, mostly old growth trees that towered above the structure. Leaves were on the ground, with those still hanging on in the trees showing the browns and rust reds that foretold they would soon start letting go as well.

  “What about the cars?” Austin asked. There were two vehicles parked in front of the house. While neither was late model, they matched the house in that their bodywork and general appearance seemed to indicate regular maintenance. Except . . .

  “They look abandoned to me.” Jessica disagreed. “See the leaves piled up across the roofs and on the windshields? If they’ve been driven anytime in the last couple of weeks I’ll eat both of those cans of okra we’ve been hauling around.”

  Austin smiled when she glanced at him, but his eyes remained on the house. Jessica studied him a few moments, recognizing he was thinking hard. His color and energy were better these days, and he had more to say when she sought advice. That, she understood. Pain had a way of getting in the way of thinking; and he had been in a lot of pain during the initial stages of healing.

  “Okay, that’s a point.” he finally said. Austin moved his gaze from the driver’s side window to look directly at her. “But we should start with a long knock before just busting in this time.”

  “I always knock.”

  “Hah!” he laughed. “Sometimes your knocking is rather, ah, energetic.”

  “It’s not like I can kick the door in.” she protested. “I have to shoot through it.”

  “Let’s start with a normal knock though.”

  Jessica nodded and turned up the grass drive. She considered for a few moments as she got near the house, then curved to one side and drove slowly around the house. The back yard was as empty as the front, though there was a brightly colored playset with swings and a slide, along with a sandbox and a large open topped wooden box with plastic yard toys piled visibly up in it.

  Stopping near the back doors, she set the brake and put the transmission in park. “Okay Candice, you play lookout from the car. Hit—”

  “—the horn if I see any zombies or people.” Candice finished. “I know Mom.”

  “Good.” Jessica put one hand on the door handle and the other on the holstered Taurus pistol on her side before giving Austin a serious look. “Don’t suppose you’re willing to sit out here too?”

  “I can walk.” Austin said, lifting the MP5 from the seat next to him. “I can back you up. Two sets of eyes are safer than one.”

  She nodded, her expression slightly exasperated, but secretly relieved. She was concerned for him, not opposed to help when she had to go into a strange house. “Okay, we’ll take it slow then.”

  “Slow and careful.”

  “Those are two of Austin’s middle names.” Candice remarked.

  “Two of many.” Jessica grinned. “Stay i
n the car Candy Bear. Okay Mr. Slow and Careful, etcetera, etcetera, let’s do this.”

  She looked around the yard one more time, then popped her door and glanced back along the side of the SUV before stepping out and moving quickly away from it, slamming the door behind her. Taking a careful full turn in place, she studied everything, especially under the SUV. She didn’t expect a zombie to have materialized beneath it, but she was not taking any chances.

  Everything was quiet now though; nothing with teeth and no dietary scruples was in view to cause problems. Austin was doing the same on the other side, more slowly, then he eased around the front of the vehicle. He wasn’t limping, but he moved gingerly, holding himself carefully. She knew the bullet wounds in his side looked better on the surface, but that they were still healing within him. It was obvious in how cautious he was with his movements, trying to avoid straining the mending tissue.

  Jessica waited for him to join her on the concrete slab that fronted the double doors leading into the back of the house. They weren’t glass, which she was a little surprised to see, but they had glass panes that still made them somewhat inviting. Drawing the stainless steel pistol from her holster, she double checked the safety, then reversed it in her hand and used the side of the grip to bang loudly on the wood.

  Stepping back, Jessica worked the pistol’s slide to load the first bullet, then waited. Seconds turned into half a minute, and nothing happened except a steady rustling of wind in the trees overhead. The yard was littered with leaves, not as heavily as a lot of yards in Georgia got in the fall, but that was probably more due to the fairly open expanse giving the wind more to work with to move them along than was usually the case.

  “Knocking again.” she said, moving up and pounding louder and longer on the door. The metal of the gun’s frame hitting the door created an unmistakable sound that reverberated across the yard. Jessica glanced around the open space behind the house as she stepped back, but nothing moved except grass and leaves. This time she waited a full minute, counting in her head, and still all was quiet.

  “Okay, let’s take a look.” Austin finally said. He had the MP5 at the ready, though he hadn’t slung it into place across himself.

  Jessica moved up and used the gun as a club again, this time on the glass. The noise was sharp and abruptly musical as she shattered one of the panes, followed by a scraping and tinkling sound as she used the pistol’s barrel to clear out the opening of any stray shards. Peering through the other panes, she saw only an empty dining room and a piece of a kitchen on the left, with part of what looked like a fairly typical living room beyond the dinner table. Nothing active, nothing in motion. She counted off another half-minute, giving anyone who might be inside time to react, then transferred the pistol to her left hand and reached carefully through to feel for the locks.

  There were two; a dead bolt and a standard knob lock, she disengaged both before withdrawing her arm. Taking the gun back up in her right hand, she used her left to open the door and pull it open. It swung back noiselessly on oiled hinges. Jessica let it open fully, then eased up without going through and checked in both directions before finally stepping inside.

  The house smelled stale. The air had that still scent of having been undisturbed for some time. It was neatly kept, but dusty with disuse. Nothing was present on the table, counters, or in the sink to indicate someone was actively living there. She went left, through the kitchen, and checked the laundry that was off of the kitchen. Washer and dryer, a handsome wooden shelf that looked custom, but no clothes. And no problems.

  Reversing, she slid past Austin and headed into the rest of the first floor. The living room had more heavy wooden furniture, again looking purpose built to fit the space; with shelves and tables that she was sure hadn’t come from any store. Pretty good ones, actually; not cheap boards chopped and hacked into shape. The construction had been executed with care and skill, from the sanding and stain down to some scrollwork and edging that added an extra touch. Someone here had been a carpenter, or had hired one.

  After making certain nothing was behind or under any of the furniture, she checked left and found a large parlor with more wooden appointments; though a feminine touch was more evident here with brighter and patterned fabrics on the curtains and coverings. Moving past the living room revealed a pair of rooms that were a kid’s play room and someone’s idea of a game/TV room; both packed with toys and electronics, but nothing else. No people, no zombies.

  “So far so good.” Jessica told herself as she retraced her steps to the stairs leading up. Austin made room as she went in that direction, then followed her two steps back. She took them slowly, mindful of Austin’s injuries. As she neared the top, she felt herself tensing a little. This was always the part she hated the most; none of the houses ever seemed to have stairs that opened out on just one end of the second floor. They always emerged into the middle of a hallway, once a three-way intersection of corridors. Having that many directions to keep an eye on made her incredibly nervous.

  The downstairs had been carpeted, but the upstairs floor was beautiful old hardwood, burnished to a handsome sheen with layer after layer of stain and decades of feet moving across it. Jessica checked behind herself twice, and forward three times, before leaving the stairs and heading away from them in the rear direction.

  There were three closed doors here. The first bedroom looked like a spare, lacking any of the personal effects it would have if someone had been using it. Just the bed and furniture, all neatly made but bare and sterile. Its closet was standing open, but she checked that carefully anyway, to make sure it really was empty, before moving on.

  The moment she opened the second door, Jessica smelled it. An old smell, but not innocuous or idle. This was a fouler scent, with a musty tang and a stomach turning odor of decay. It hung in the air like a warning. Instinctively she stepped back from the door as it continued swinging open from the push she’d given it.

  There were . . . bodies . . . inside. Bodies, or at least pieces of them, and a lot of blood. Old blood, dried to a rust brown crust. It coated the floor around the bed, though the furniture and sheets hadn’t been spared. Splatters were visible across the expanse of sheets on the mattress, and the fabric hanging down to the floor had sucked up blood unevenly from the floor in climbing vertical stain patterns.

  She wasn’t sure how many people had died in here, but Jessica guessed no fewer than three just from how many bones she saw. There were pieces of tissue and softer bits clinging to them, and the whole mess was surprisingly ordered. It was as if each . . . person . . . had been eaten piece by piece, with the bones laid down before the next part of the meal was started. And meal was the word; some of the bones had damage – marks – that looked like they’d been chewed on.

  “Get—” Austin started to say, then Jessica caught movement on the right. She barely had time to notice a fleeting glimpse of something upright and coming at the doorway from behind the wall and the dresser flanking the inside of the door. Not even pausing to think, she fired the Taurus without bothering to try and properly aim.

  Her reflexive snapshot sent the forty-five caliber slug tearing through a bloody figure’s chest; a man with pale, bruised, dried out skin showing signs of scratches and tears. Whatever color its clothing had been, it was now old blood and decay, with a side of ripped abuse. Every inch of the fabric clinging to its dead form was rust brown. In some places it was caked so thick it was crumbling off as it lurched forward at her.

  The zombie rocked back as the heavy bullet ripped into it, but only for a moment. The hands and arms were coming up, dead and empty eyes fixed on her. She saw the teeth were almost gleaming, in stark contrast to his grayed and desiccated face and gums. The only thing she figured could do that was a lot of use. Whatever had happened in here, the zombie had clearly finished disposing of the bodies.

  But that was all trivia, irrelevant in the face of the threat. Jessica stepped back quickly, bringing her own hands up as she got her
left on the pistol in the two handed grip she preferred so she could aim properly. She bumped into Austin and almost tripped as he tried to move out of her way.

  Stumbling, Jessica’s left hand went out and caught against the wall as she staggered, trying to steady herself and keep from going down. Ahead of her, the zombie was staggering as well, but mostly forward. It was now in the doorway, and looked like it was having no problem at the moment staying on its feet and coming after her. “Too close, too close!” her mind screamed at her as she pointed the gun one handed and fired again, then a second time as well.

  The recoil hammered against her forearm and shoulder, but she barely noticed in her alarm. Not quite panicking, but she wasn’t calm about things either. It was too damned close! Maybe a step and a half away from being in reach to grab her. One of her bullets had missed it, but the second shattered the corpse’s shoulder, causing its arm to drop abruptly and hang limp.

  Zombies seemed to feel no pain, but physical damage that dismantled bone or ripped muscles apart could slow them down. A broken leg or a shredded muscle worked the same for both humans and zombies alike; it was a problem.

  It was just that zombies didn’t mind the damage.

  This one was no different; it ignored the non-functional arm as the limb swung down limply at its side. The other hand stayed up and outstretched, clasping the fingers at her. Its next step was a lot more lurching than before, since it had lost one of its upper limbs for the minimal amount of balancing the zombies seemed to concern themselves with as they staggered about, but it was still coming right for her.

  Jessica had open hallway behind her now, with Austin on her right side. She stepped back again and got both hands on the gun, finally bringing it up and laying her eye along the sights. The MP5 in Austin’s hands spat several bullets, but she ignored that as she put the trio of dots on her Taurus into alignment on the zombie’s chin and fired. Its head was snapping back as she squeezed the trigger.

  The creature’s skull shattered explosively. A wide mist of bits and pieces, all of them crumbling and surrounded by a surprising amount of what looked like dust or powder, erupted backwards. Pulling her gaze back from the sights, she saw the zombie was collapsing. There was nothing left above its neck but a ragged ruin of misshapen bone. Very little blood – just a scattering of red gel that was almost too dry to do more than color things – but no less horrific.