Degeneration

by Pardo, David

  But, the day soon came when the canned goods ran out and there were hardly any more jugs of water left in the garage. That's the day when I had to cross the village to get to the supermarket....

  2

  An irritable dawn.

  In the cinema, in literature, on TV, in videogames.... We've become intimately familiar with the living dead who have always been ingrained in our culture. But, you're never really aware of just how terrifying a zombie can be until you have one right in front of you. When you're just a few feet from one of them –when you smell their foul breath from beyond the grave and you see their decomposing faces– your legs shake and your pulse picks up as you fear falling prey to their insatiable appetite. It is in that exact moment that you truly understand the meaning of the word terror.

  The day was sunny in Navarrés, although the nearing end of autumn had brought with it the first chilly mornings. December was just around the corner and we'd soon have to turn on the heat. In other times, the arrival of winter wouldn't have been a problem: a higher use of resources was covered by the electric network and, so, we were never without power and our batteries were always charged. But, without electricity, we ran the risk of blackouts: from then on, we were going to have to cut back on our power consumption to avoid the dangers of the dark.

  A moment before leaving for the supermarket, I peeked into the little guy's room: Sebastian was entertaining himself with a videogame. The child looked away from the screen a second and smiled at me. He still didn't know what was really happening, that the world as we knew it had come to an end. Sebastian would never see his friends again; he'd never go back to school, nor would he play on the swings in the park. How do you explain to a child that his life will never be the same? I didn't have enough courage to do it and I hoped that, with time, he would realize for himself that our lives had changed and that we were very lucky to still be alive. Or... maybe not? In any case, it was better to still be alive than to wander the streets as a zombie in search of a piece of meat to stuff in our mouths.

  Once I was in the garage, I took two boxes of cartridges off the shelf and I left them, along with the shotgun, in the passenger seat of my 4x4. Afterwards, I gave the Parabellum that I kept in the glove box to my wife and I hugged her as if it were the last time that we were going to see each other.

  "As soon as I get out, close the door and don't open it until I get back," I said to her, my voice trembling. Just before leaving, I made sure that there were no zombies in the street, but even so, my legs shook at the thought of Beatriz and Sebastian being left alone. It was almost impossible for a decomposing being to get into the house; plus, Beatriz was a good shot. But still, I couldn't help but think that something horrible could happen during my absence. Beatriz was a very strong woman, but I doubted her ability to keep calm when meeting face to face with one of those mutant monsters. Practicing with cans is not the same as blowing off a zombie's head as he comes near to bite you.

  With no more delay, I turned the key and directed my 4x4 to the street. I could see in the rear-view mirror that my wife had closed the garage door behind me and I sighed to calm my nerves.

  Navarrés was a small village and the trip from my house to the supermarket wasn't more than two minutes by car, especially since all the traffic had disappeared. I crossed the Rio Grande Bridge and continued driving until I was in front of the shop. The state the streets were in was devastating: muck and grime everywhere, some decomposing bodies, and several abandoned cars. Before getting out, I glanced around me: everything seemed clear; except for a few dry blood stains on one of the windows of the supermarket which called my attention. I would have to stay alert with all five senses. I took a deep breath and grabbed the shotgun. I then got out of the vehicle and cautiously went into the establishment.

  Once inside, I found signs of a struggle: some shelves were tipped over and food products were scattered about the floor. More blood. A long trail of it that went up the aisle and lead into the back room, as if someone had dragged a body to the refrigeration chambers.

  "It's not my problem," I mumbled, barely opening my mouth. I hadn't gone to the supermarket to investigate anyone's death; I only had to grab a few canned goods, some jugs of water, and then get out of there. Still, those stains were both worrying and tempting for me. What had happened there? Whose blood was that? Through clenched teeth, I decided to follow the trail.

  I cleared the way from all the debris in the aisle and I followed the blood trail to the door which separated the shop from the back room where the freezer was. I opened the heavy, steel door and drew back the plastic curtain that was behind it. The freezer's motor had stopped working and the smell of decomposition flooded over me; I was about to vomit. I could hardly see in there and I hadn't taken the flashlight with me. On the shelves I found unthinkable amounts of rotted food, things with mold and covered with repulsive worms. Despite the darkness, I continued advancing through the oppressive aisles of the freezer until I tripped over a shelf and a box of steaks fell on my head. Frightened, I turned around and shook my body to get that shit off.

  "Fuck! How disgusting!" I exclaimed as I took handfuls of worms off my arms. Just then, a sound coming from the back of the freezer put me on alert. I was not alone inside there.

  I raised the shotgun and strained my eyes to try to see what was moving back there. Lying on the floor in the corner, I could see the body of a zombie whose legs had been cut off. He noticed my presence, opened his mouth, and let out a terrifying moan. As he did this, he choked up a mouthful of black blood that dripped off his chin. Even in the darkness I recognized that it was Pepe, the president of the cooperative association that ran the supermarket. But if you think that Pepe had stayed in Navarrés to protect the interests of his association, I assure you that you are mistaken. I'm convinced that he was bitten by a zombie while trying to steal the shop’s money. The decaying being came towards me at surprising speed, dragging his guts along the floor and pulling himself strongly with his forearms. It was tight inside the freezer and the lack of light made it hard for me to aim at his head. When I was about to react, the zombie was already just a few inches from me. With amazing ease, he pushed off with his arms and tried to throw himself onto me, but I responded to the attack in time and hit him in the face with the stock of the gun. He fell to the ground and tried to push himself up again. Then I hit him repeatedly in the skull until his head cracked in two and his brains fell out onto the floor of the freezer. Splashed with Pepe's brain matter, I went to the back of the freezer and found several bags of money covered in blood. "Son of a bitch," I said, “even as a zombie this bastard was still worried about money.” So as not to waste more time, I took the bags and ran out of the freezer. I filled the trunk of my 4x4 with canned goods, took the last jugs of water that I found, and got out of there without looking back.

  The confrontation with that putrefied being had somehow excited me and, for some reason unknown to me, I felt the need to take a drive around the village. I drove carefully through the high roads. Everything seemed calm there. I passed by the Villaplana Café and got to the entrance of the church. There I found two zombies wandering around; they were lost and disoriented and tripped time and time again over the steps that led to the large, arched pillars of the church’s doorway. They seemed to be two members of the clergy who were, by instinct, going to pray to their god, the same god who had abandoned them. I stopped the car just a few feet away from the decomposing beings who, in turn, didn't even notice my presence. I tried to recognize in their putrefied faces the people who, a long time ago, had occupied those bodies; but, I wasn't able to identify them. Maybe they weren't even aware of how they had gotten to where they were.

  Without wasting more time, I rolled down the window and stuck half of my body out. I then raised the shotgun and put those poor, unfortunate men out of their misery. In that moment, a loud scratching sound alerted me to something that had run up against the passenger window. Worried, I turned around and aimed th
e shotgun in that direction. One of the decomposing beings had pressed his face against the glass and was scratching at it with his moldy, bloody nails. The zombie moaned and showed his repulsive teeth –the mortifying means of infection for others– as he vomited mouthfuls of blood onto the glass. He smashed his head into the window over and over again. I had to finish him off, but I couldn't shoot him from inside the vehicle; I ran the risk of blowing my eardrums out with the Browning's roar, or of taking a piece of glass to the body when the window blew in all directions. I thought about taking a risk, rolling down the window and pulling the trigger... but if I made a mistake, I would be at the mercy of that monstrous thing. So, I slammed on the clutch and jammed my 4x4 into reverse, intending to run him over. I backed the vehicle onto the sidewalk and got a couple feet away from him. The decomposing monster was directly in front of me, wobbling as if he were drunk. From this distance, and now a little calmer, I saw that it was Rafael, a retired teacher who had taught my wife in grade school. His appearance had hardly changed from when he was alive.

  "Piece of shit," I muttered as I put it in first. "You were a zombie before the epidemic and you're a zombie now."

  I then let the clutch out and my 4x4 shot off towards the teacher. I heard the shattering of bones when the front of the vehicle hit his body. After the immense crash, the teacher went flying over the windshield, violently hit the roof, and rolled off and onto the ground, covering the asphalt with blood and guts. I stopped cold and watched in the rear-view mirror as Rafael –that bastard, despite having been run over– was still trying to get up. His legs were torn apart from the brutal impact and his head had smashed after falling to the ground; but, the decomposing being still shook and quivered and seemed to want to sink his teeth into me.

  I didn't want to waste more time playing with that idiot. I got out of the vehicle and put the end of my shotgun to his neck, pressing his head forcefully to the cold asphalt below until he couldn't move. The zombie waved his arms trying to grab at me, all the while emitting hostile moans. I kept him at the right distance, making sure his putrefied hands couldn't reach me. I have to admit: I was a bit happy for a moment when I had Rafael against the ground, but a few seconds later I pulled the trigger and blew off his head with one shot. His blood dirtied my pants and his brain matter splashed my sweatshirt, but I didn't mind: they were signs of war. With my pulse still racing, I stayed there a moment, contemplating the teacher's body. I found his broken glasses on the ground and stuck them in my pocket as a trophy.

  When I got into my 4x4 again, I felt slightly dizzy: maybe from the built up stress. I closed my eyes and looked up toward the ceiling. I then let out a laugh, a hysterical crackle that rang out between fear and irrationality. I had never been a violent man, but this situation was beginning to modify my behavior. To tell you the truth, I was starting to enjoy plucking off these decomposing monsters. Something inside me had changed when the epidemic struck. I had become an ill-tempered man, thirsty for death; one who enjoyed hunting the living dead. From that day forward, my ventures outside of my house would become both more frequent and more dangerous.

  Before going home, I felt the need to have a drink. I missed being able to have time alone, a little peace and quiet for myself. I drove along Pintor Tarraso Avenue until arriving at the Pirraca Bar. The tables and chairs were scattered around in front of the bar, some of them stained with blood. A body was decomposing in a corner. The spots where its eyes had been were nothing more than two, deep, black holes and hundreds of worms were feasting on its flesh. I saw it was a regular at the bar, but I didn't pay any more attention. I went toward the main entrance to force the door, but was surprised to find it open when I got there. The inside of The Picarra was calm: nothing worrying caught my eye. I went behind the bar and prepared myself a warm rum with coke. The ice maker had stopped working and in its interior I only found dirty water. I sat at one of the tables outside and enjoyed the drink as if it were my last.

  "To your health," I said, raising my cup to the horizon.

  3

  I've lost faith in humanity.

  The sky drew dark over Navarrés and the Epiphany was ending. It had been a sad, gloomy day, although Sebastian had a little fun playing videogames with me. We had had an enjoyable day and the little guy seemed to understand that the Parade of the Three Kings and the traditional gifts were a thing of the past. Nevertheless, he still had the hope of seeing the Three Kings riding on their camels through the streets of the village, and the dream of sitting on Melchior’s lap to give him his wish list. But I knew that those days would never return.

  I left Sebastian playing with his PS3 and I put my goose-down jacket and some old jeans on over my pajama. In the kitchen, Beatriz was making me a hot coffee with cream. I went in and took the mug, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and went up to the balcony. It was a cold night and I tried to warm my hands by placing them on the hot mug. Before plugging in the halogen light, I took a look at Justiniano's house through the binoculars: the lights were on in the ground floor, but I didn't see any movement inside.

  I plugged in the light and did a sweep of the grounds around my house: a decomposing being wandered around at the end of the street; the rest of the village seemed quiet.

  Without thinking twice, I took the rifle and steadied myself on the handrail of the balcony. With my thumbnail, and making a gesture as if I were tossing a coin into the air, I popped off the scope's cover and dialed in on the zombie's head. The being was dressed in a ragged suit and tie. There was probably a moment when his shirt had been white, but as time went on it took the color of the black blood that flowed from his mouth. I didn't recognize him and so deduced that he must be a stranger: more and more zombies were arriving from over the hills – maybe in search of food, or maybe disoriented. Fine by me, they were mere pieces of game for me now. I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and pulled the trigger. The sound of the rifle thundered in the blackness of the night and the bullet pierced the skull of the zombie, who fell to the ground like a rag doll. From up there it was easy to pluck off the putrid monsters, although it wasn't as fun as facing them up close.

  Suddenly, a shadow inside Justiniano's house caught my eye. I quickly let go of the rifle and shut off the light. Next, I took out the binoculars and stood behind the wall of the banister, on my haunches, so as not to be discovered. I carefully stood up and saw a muscular young man with a shaved head. I didn't remember having seen him in the village before, and his frenzied movements seemed suspicious to me. A few seconds later, another man went in alongside the first guy. I could tell from their uncontrolled movements that they were nervous.

  "Who the hell are you two? I don't like you at all," I mumbled, crouched behind the wall. Then I realized that, from there, they could see the lights of my house and I ran to the stairs.

  "Beatriz!” I yelled to the bottom of the stairs, "Beatriz!"

  But she didn't hear me. Surely she was cooking with the kitchen door shut. Without a second to lose, I ran downstairs to the garage and disconnected the batteries from the solar panels, submerging the house in total darkness. I then took the backup flashlight along with some extra batteries and went back towards the stairs to go up to the balcony again.

  "What's going on?" Beatriz asked, opening the kitchen door and standing in my path.

  "Go get the kid, lock yourselves in the bedroom, and stay quiet," I said without stopping, taking the steps in threes. "Hurry up!"

  "But..." she stuttered.

  "For God's sake, don't make any noise," I pleaded with her. When she saw how serious and worried I was, she understood that this wasn't a game. She god Sebastian and they hid in the bedroom.

  Again back on the balcony, I took the binoculars and tried to see Justiniano's house. I was both nervous and frightened at the same time, my hands were shaking and I could barely keep the lenses in focus. When I was finally able to get the living room into view, I saw that the light was still on, but the two guys had disappeared. I tried to
find them in the alleys, but with the darkness I couldn't see more than a few yards from my own balcony. Even so, the sound of a motor told me that they were moving through the village: they were looking for us. I was horrified when a car rounded the corner and ran over the zombie that I had killed just moments before. They had found us.

  Hunched down on the balcony, I rested my back against the wall and held onto the rifle. At that moment, I felt a heavy pressure in my chest; it was as if someone had dropped an anvil on my thorax. Since the infection had unraveled, this was the first time that I found myself up against human beings. I didn't know why these guys had come to Navarrés, but I was convinced that it wasn't with good intentions.

  The car stopped in front of my neighbor's house. I got up a little and, through the fog, I could make out that there weren't two, but three, shadows getting out. I heard their steps and the sound of a shotgun being cocked. These guys were armed and weren't there to make friends.

  I ducked down and hid behind the wall of the balcony, holding my breath for fear of being discovered. My hands were shaking and my heart pounded in my chest as if it wanted to escape from the prison of my ribs, shattering the boney bars that had protected it for thirty five years. I had never been as scared as I was that night.

  "I think the light was around here," I heard one of them say. Judging from his voice, he couldn't have been more than twenty years old. I was not a religious man and I had rarely set foot inside a church in all my life, but that night I looked up to the sky and tried to speak with God. Desperate, I tried to ask him to protect my family from those guys, to make them go away from there and continue up the road... but God refused to listen.