Graham's Resolution Trilogy Bundle: Books 1-3

by A. R. Shaw

  He swung the shovel with all his might. There was a clang and a yelp, but he still felt the dog pulling on his pants. He swung again and finally heard silence. He scrambled to his feet.

  Bang just stared at the dead animal. The growling had stopped, but the boy’s bawling did not; he was nearly hysterical. Graham dropped the shovel and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Shhh, be quiet, or more will come,” he told him in a harsh whisper. He left him there and quickly filled in his father’s grave, mounding the dirt deeply and looking all around him as he did.

  He tossed the dogs’ bodies in a wheelbarrow, and then went back to kneel again at his father’s grave. Though Graham had never been a religious man, he hoped now that all of his loved ones were in a better place. His heart ached as he smoothed the mounded dirt with his rough hands to level it out.

  “It’s so hard to say good-bye, Dad. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.” Then he remembered what his father would expect of him. He stood, grabbed his rifle, and led the sobbing boy inside the house.

  There was still the boy’s mother to bury, and dusk was quickly falling, so he knew he had to hurry. Bang immediately ran to the body, and Graham could tell this was going to be a battle.

  He used a rag to wipe mud from the rifle quickly and reloaded it. “We have to bury her now,” Graham said when he was done.

  “No!” the boy cried.

  “We can’t leave her here. It’s getting dark, and we have to do it now,” Graham said gruffly, walking over to the couch. Bang put his arms around his mother as if to guard her. Graham pulled him back by the shoulders and said, “Look, kid, we have to do this right now. You can either help or you can stand back. Don’t make me lock you in a room. The least you can do for your mother right now is be strong and help me.”

  Graham wrapped the red floral quilt around Hyun-Ok, much as he’d done with the others. At first Bang just stood there sobbing; then he began patting her wrapped legs. As Graham started to cover the rest of Hyun-Ok, he noticed a necklace with a medallion. He took it off her body as the boy watched. He then reached for Bang, who pulled back, clearly untrusting until he realized what Graham was trying to do. He let Graham put the chain over his head. The medallion landed with a thump against Bang’s narrow, bony chest.

  “She has a book in her pocket there,” the boy said, pointing to her gray jacket. They were the first words he’d spoken other than his name and “no.”

  Graham felt in her coat and found a small journal in a leather sleeve.

  “Is this for you?” Graham asked Bang, who just shrugged, not knowing the answer.

  “Well, you hold on to it for now,” Graham instructed. He continued to wrap Hyun-Ok but stopped when he got to her face.

  “Go ahead and say good-bye,” he said to Bang.

  The boy sniffled, and then kissed her on the cheek. He hugged her one last time and stroked her long silky hair.

  Graham looked outside and realized the night was coming quickly. He pulled the boy back gently from his mother. “Okay, it’s time. We need to get her buried now.”

  The boy watched as Graham covered her face with the quilt. “No, no, no!” he cried again. Bang tried to tear the quilt off, and Graham had to pull him away, restraining him. He knew this was heartbreaking for the boy, but he didn’t have a choice.

  “Look,” he said, “we have to bury her now or we’ll have more trouble with the dogs. Do you want that? Your mother wants you to be safe and stay alive. We can’t do that if there are dogs attacking us.”

  Bang looked miserable and confused and just shook his head again.

  “All right then, let’s get this done before dark,” Graham said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

  He picked up Hyun-Ok’s light frame and led the small procession out to her last resting place. The boy followed, unable to suppress his grief. The closer Graham got to the grave, the more Bang struggled to pull the quilt away, and Graham ordered, “Knock it off!”

  When they reached the grave, Graham lowered Hyun-Ok’s body to the grass at the edge of the hole. Bang pulled more of the quilt off, exposing her feet, and Graham pushed him away, landing him on his rear.

  Looking around first for any more predators, Graham jumped into the hole. “Give me a hand, kid,” he whispered, but the boy ignored him.

  Graham pulled Hyun-Ok’s body into the grave and gently lowered her to the bottom. Bang scrambled over to the grave’s edge, again yelling, “No, No!”

  Graham quit worrying about the kid and instead shoveled dirt into the grave as quickly as he could with Bang crying all the while. He felt awful having to do it this way, but the circumstances left him with no choice. Nightfall meant predators.

  By the time Graham finished it was nearly dark, and Bang’s sobs had faded to whimpers. Graham, exhausted both emotionally and physically, began to smooth the mounded dirt atop the grave. To his surprise, Bang shoved his hands away and began smoothing it himself. Graham let him do it.

  Another howl pierced the backyard silence, sending a chill up Graham’s spine. Not knowing the kid’s religious beliefs, he said, “Okay, kid, hurry up and say good-bye.”

  The boy said something in what Graham assumed must be Korean, but he wasn’t sure. He knelt beside the boy and bowed his head. He hoped that bringing Hyun-Ok into his home had allowed her to pass peacefully. Out loud, so the boy could hear him, he said, “Just like I promised, I will look after your son.” Graham heard another howl, then reached over and picked up Bang, who leaned, now spent and tearless, against his shoulder.

  4 The Lucky Ones

  They were the lucky ones, able to bury their dead. Most families without members among the 2 percent still alive were left unburied; they lay in hospital beds, their own beds, and sometimes in vehicles, trying to reach a destination or escape from what had become a travesty of the life they had once known.

  Early on, ailing and dying people had overrun the hospitals; after attempting to encase every single dead body in plastic body bags, workers soon ran out of them. As the disease spread they resorted to simply burning bodies in parking lots. Many bodies were left to decompose; depending on daily conditions, nature, either sped up or slowed down the process of decay.

  This caused wild animals to descend in droves out of the forests and into the normally forbidden land of man. They appeared around houses and on the black asphalt-topped roads, lining the maze of streets beyond their natural borders. Drawn in by the lack of human sounds that had formerly kept them at bay, they now were enticed by the aroma of rotting flesh. Neglected family pets soon either became prey or turned into semiferal predators, forming large packs and often tangling with the wilder animals.

  Coyotes, wolves, bears, and bobcats chased their natural prey, the deer, which were once only seen at dusk and dawn, but the sound of the ruminants’ clip-clopping hooves on the hardened road surface and concrete sidewalks was heard by few people now. Those humans who did hear them would just as often witness the sound of savagery as they suffered death by fang and claw. This left those who endured with an intense fear of being hunted by wild beasts, so they remained in their shelters, slowly running out of resources.

  ~ ~ ~

  Graham put the boy down and locked the door. The wind picked up and the rain started again. Bang just stood there, dazed, as Graham looked out at the graves, which now totaled six. He leaned his head against the cold glass, fighting back the pain. He thought about the answer his father had given when Graham had asked, “Why should I go on?”

  “You’ll find a reason, or the reason will find you,” the old man had replied. Graham now looked down at the boy. Great! My reason’s a pissed -off kid?

  Graham sighed and looked down at his boots, caked in mud. He began to wipe them off on the mat but saw how useless that was. He removed them instead and glanced at the boy’s tennis shoes, which were filthy as well; too filthy to track around Graham’s parents’ house.

  “Hey, Bang, take off your shoes,” he said.


  “I want to go home,” the boy whined.

  Graham spun him around to face him. “Listen, your mother spent the last moments of her life trying to save yours. She brought you to me and I promised to take care of you. I’ll do that until you manage to get yourself killed. Until then, you will do what I say, when I say it; and if you leave my sight again, you won’t get two blocks before you’re attacked by big, mean dogs. Only this time I won’t save your ass because you didn’t listen to me. Got it?”

  Bang cried, but he also took terrified glances at the darkening outside; Graham hoped the warning was enough to keep him from running off again. The truth was that he could have easily been mauled to death earlier.

  “Now, take off your shoes,” he ordered again.

  Bang sat down on the carpet and untied his shoes. He still sniffled, but at least complied.

  “Are you hungry?” Graham asked, trying for a kinder tone.

  The boy didn’t look up at him.

  Graham didn’t feel like eating now, either. He looked down at his dirt-covered hands. He was concerned that Bang might try to run off if he turned his back. “Okay, listen. I’ve got to go shower. You have two choices. You can either promise me you’ll stay here and behave, or get eaten by the dogs outside—what’s it going to be? Because I don’t have time for this.”

  Between sobs the boy said, “Stay.”

  “All right,” Graham said. “It’s getting dark in here. Let’s go in back.” Bang picked up his backpack from beside the door, and Graham realized he hadn’t even noticed it there before. The kid followed him.

  Since the illness had come, Graham’s family had kept the house mostly dark at night. He used a flashlight to light the way to the back of the house, where he opened a bedroom door, revealing a pair of twin beds.

  “That’s my bed, by the window. And you can sleep there,” Graham said, pointing to the one nearest the door. He pointed again. “That’s the bathroom, across the hall. I want you to go do your business and wash your hands.”

  The boy looked up at him. Graham started to feel guilty for being so harsh with him, but it was for his own good. The kid walked into the bathroom, where a small nightlight cast a soft glow, and closed the door behind him.

  Graham heard the water running, so he waited in the hall for the boy to finish. In the meantime he leaned his head back against a closet door. He hadn’t eaten anything today, but he knew that if he tried he wouldn’t be able to keep it down anyway.

  His thoughts wandered back to dawn and his father’s death. He bowed his head, and when he looked down, Bang was standing there, gazing up at him.

  “Are you all done?” The boy nodded. Graham walked him into the bedroom and pulled back the blankets on the bed for him. “Okay, climb in,” he told him.

  The boy climbed up and Graham pulled the covers over him. “I’ve got to take a shower. You’re going to stay right here, right?” Bang nodded, but his lower lip quivered. Graham patted him on the head, but the boy jerked away from his touch.

  Graham closed the bedroom door, but left the door to the bathroom open so he could listen for any noise. He looked at himself in the mirror, still holding his rifle over his shoulder, and saw a man he didn’t recognize. He was filthy and utterly spent—both of energy and of emotion. He peeled off his dirty clothes and turned on the shower, then propped the rifle nearby. He kept the shower curtain partially open so he could see out. He let the hot steamy water run over his worn body, watching it turn brown as it drained away. After showering off the dirt of graves, he emerged and checked the bedroom to find Bang asleep.

  Graham stopped at the door and watched the sleeping child, then noticed the leather-sleeved book lying atop the kid-size backpack. He picked it up and sat down on his own bed. Under the golden glow of the flashlight he removed the book from its sleeve. The first two pages showed a genealogical tree; a photo of Bang rested on a top branch. Photos and names of ancestors were in the lower branches, delicately translated into English below what he guessed were Korean names. The brave lady whose likeness Bang bore had been a beauty. Graham’s stomach knotted at the pain of losing his own mother. He turned the pages slowly until a loosely folded letter addressed to him came into view.

  Dear Mr. Graham,

  I’m writing you this letter with a happy heart. I know you are a good man and will take good care of my son Bang. Please keep him safe and remind him of his father and me. When he is sad, ask him to tell you of his whole family and the people we were. We will be with you both in spirit.

  I will tell you a little about Bang so that you will know how to care for him.

  We are Korean American. My father bravely escaped the death camps of North Korea, Bang knows of the story. He is five years old and his birthday is July 15th. He was born in Seattle.

  He loves cars and animals. He is scared of the dark and sometimes has bad dreams. I taught him he must be brave for you. He is a good hunter of small game.

  Reading this, Graham lifted his head and looked over at the boy, then turned back to the journal.

  His father and I trained him well to fish and hunt duck, rabbits, and squirrels. He knows how to set small snares and traps for them. There is a slingshot in his backpack, and he is good with a bow and arrows.

  Bang is quiet most times but can read and write well for his age. Most important, I believe you need him as much as he needs you. You are both alone now. That is why I chose you over the others.

  There it was, as if the answer to Graham’s father’s premonition: You’ll find a reason, or the reason will find you. Obviously Hyun-Ok had written the next part later, because the handwriting wasn’t as smooth or as calm.

  Please heed my warning!

  I must warn you about a very bad man named Campos in case you take Bang and leave this place, I watched all the living here at night to make my decision. Campos has killed two of the few that walked into town. If you leave, please go at night, away from the highway exit. Campos stays at the gas station there by a small blue-trimmed house. He seems like his mind is gone and he speaks to himself out loud in different voices. He’s very dangerous and you should avoid him. He has guns and carries a hatchet on his belt at all times. He keeps the fires in the Dumpster going and he even threw one of the survivors into it alive. When you leave, don’t make any noise with a car, or I fear Campos will find you. Stay hidden from him.

  Do not be sad for those you lost, Mr. Graham. You now have someone to live for.

  With my deepest gratitude as a mother,

  Hyun-Ok

  Graham refolded the letter and placed it back into the book, then slipped the journal back into its leather sleeve. He wasn’t sure what to think of the boy. He wasn’t surprised by the warning, since he’d often heard the distant sound of gunfire and had seen the black smoke drifting this way from afar almost every evening. He’d had no reason to venture that way because his dad had issued the no-contact order. The family members had always stayed close to the house, and then they had started dying off, one by one, so Graham certainly hadn’t thought of going anywhere before now. But there was the family’s cabin, as he and his father had planned—far away, Graham hoped, from all this madness, disease, and death. Now that he knew of Campos he would have to devise a plan so that he and Bang could get away safely.

  Unfortunately, the route he needed to take to get to the cabin led him right through the trouble spot; they were locked in by man and nature both. To get to the other side of the highway, raised above the neighborhood like a causeway and lined with stone walls on each side, they needed to cross under the bridge right where this Campos fellow resided. This guy sounded pretty bad. Regrettably, the immunity to the virus wasn’t confined to good people alone, as Graham’s dad had warned him.

  Then, like most nights before he went to sleep, Graham cleaned his rifle, taking pleasure in the familiar routine. This act had recently taken precedence over his bedtime ritual of reading a chapter or two of a dystopian novel; in the last few days the world arou
nd him mirrored the novels too closely for Graham to be able to enjoy them.

  Having finished cleaning the rifle, Graham lay down on his bed. Despite everything that had happened that day, it took only minutes to fall asleep.

  5 Heading Out

  Just before he woke, Graham’s father’s death replayed in his dreams. The desperate pleas, and the last-minute imparting to Graham of every bit of advice he would need to survive, remained with Graham as he awoke. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning, Graham suddenly noticed the sleepy little boy sitting atop the adjacent bed, leaning against the headboard. For a moment Graham couldn’t make the connection. Then it all came back to him from the day before: losing two and gaining one. This new day brought with it a new purpose, one Graham could look forward to because now he had a boy to look after and that meant he needed to keep him safely away from harm. He felt the burden of the promise, but he did not resent it, even though it had come unexpectedly.

  Time to get the hell out of here, especially considering Hyun-Ok’s warning.

  “Morning, Bang. You sleep well?” he asked. The boy nodded. Graham could see from Bang’s sad little face that yesterday’s facts were shaping into reality for him as well. Bang let himself drop back down to his pillow.

  “I’m going to take another shower this morning, because we’re headed off on a journey and we probably won’t be able to get clean for a while—until we get to the new place. After I’m done, you can take a shower or a bath, too—whatever you’d like to do. You do know how to take a shower, right?” Graham asked him.

  Bang nodded, then asked, “Where are we going?”

  “Away from here. Someplace safe. You’ll see in due time.”

  Hell! I don’t know what to do with a five-year-old. Guess I better let him figure the shower thing out, and if he comes out clean then that will do. A stinky little boy will be the least I have to worry about. Heck, we’re both going to be pretty ripe soon enough.