Not Dead in the Heart of Dixie

by R Kralik

  I approached him cautiously and couldn't see any bite marks. He looked chubby, pink, and fully alive. I noticed he was shivering a little but seemed too proud to let it show, even at his tender age. I held my arms out to him and he willingly came up and tried to crawl inside my jacket. I wrapped the sides of my jacket around him and held him close while heading for the house and the warmth inside.

  He was dressed in nothing but a pair of soaked Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle underwear and a camo t-shirt. There was hay in his blonde curls and a few "goat berries" stuck to the back of his t-shirt. Marisa and I got him undressed and into a warm tub. He played in the water like it was his every day routine. We finally got him out and put a pair of Amber's little panties on him (God forbid his future wife or drinking buddies ever see this diary). We dressed him in a pair of Amber's sweatpants and a little black t-shirt. The look was complete with a pair of Amber's socks, flopping off the ends of his little feet.

  I remembered a visit I had last spring from three little boys who lived in the new house back in the woods. The boys came through the woods to see the goats when they heard them calling for their afternoon meal.

  They were cute little stair-step boys, and the youngest was a blonde angel who looked like he was still trying to get his legs to work right. They had an older cousin with them, and he introduced himself and the boys. They played with the goats for a while and then went marching merrily back through the woods, swinging stick swords.

  I was trying hard to pull the content of that conversation to the front of my brain and suddenly remembered the name of the blonde angel. "Are you Caleb?" I asked the boy. He vigorously nodded his head up and down, He popped that little thumb back up to his chest and said proudly "I Cab! Momma uh boo boo! Unky Bo uh boo boo!" We stared at him for a good solid minute.

  Marisa spoke first. "What does he mean? Do you think his mom is just sick, or maybe she has the virus? Who's Unky Bo?" she asked. "I have no idea" I said, "but I'll bet Unky Bo’s an Uncle, and he has a boo boo along with Momma. We better take this little guy home and check on ‘em."

  Mick just about came apart. There was absolutely no way on this green earth that he would allow Marisa and me to trudge through the woods alone, looking for Momma and Unky Bo. I told him it was possible that the boy just slipped away, and they might be out looking for him, so we needed get him back pretty fast.

  After a few minutes of sorting it out, we headed to the path and through the woods toward the new house along with Sam Colt of the 1911 .45 style and Mr. Winchester of the .30-30 Buffalo Bill Tribute style. Carisa kept Amber inside the house and locked the doors with strict orders not to open them to anyone.

  When we got close to the house, Caleb started pointing and jumping around in my arms. He was yelling "Unky Bo! Unky Bo!" We looked in the direction he was pointing and saw a man hobbling towards us, walking in a drunken-like swagger.

  He was tall and wearing a nasty red flannel shirt with filthy blue jeans that were definitely wet. His face was as white as the driven snow, and there were big red bubbles coming from the tear ducts of his flat black eyes. The skin on his face was hanging like he was 100 years older than he could possibly be. Half of his left ear was torn off and the flapping remains were swinging back and forth in rhythm with the hanging skin of his jowls. Dry, caked blood covered the side of his neck and disappeared into his shirt collar.

  He was carrying something that looked like a turkey leg wrapped in a big ol' cloth napkin in his right hand. His left hand was reaching toward us. He was making a gurgling sound in his throat, like he was gargling on a bite of whatever was in his hand. That left hand looked like it had been gnawed on by a squirrel or raccoon.

  "I think we found Unky Bo" I said, turning my head towards Mick.

  Almost immediately, Mick took Unky Bo out with a head shot from Mr. Winchester. I was shocked and Caleb was screeching. Mick wasn't fooling around.

  "You and Rissa take yourselves back to the house now while Jason and I look for the rest of 'em!" Mick shouted at me, "and take the boy with you!" I could barely hear him because my ears were ringing from the loud gunshot that came from within three feet of my head.

  It isn't in my nature not to argue but, after the sight of Unky Bo, I decided that Mick was right, especially since I didn't have my trusty Glock 17 with me.

  I grabbed Marisa's arm and we jogged back down the path towards home. I just knew "Momma" was gonna jump out at us somewhere along the way, but we made it safely inside to the frightened Carisa and crying Amber who had heard the gunshot and was afraid of what might've happened.

  I heard a goat fussing out at the barn. It was our missing doe and she was trying to get back in the gate. I handed Caleb off to Marisa and ran out there. I pushed the doe through the gate and ran back into the house. All I could do was pray.

  Marisa had her hands full with a crying little boy who was arching his back, throwing himself around, and yelling loudly for Unky Bo. Sorry little one, Unky Bo won't be around anymore.

  I tried to call 911 and got a busy signal. I looked for the number to the county police and tried to call them as well. "All circuits are busy, please try your call again later, for a charge of blah, blah, blah" echoed in my head while Marisa called out the number to the sheriff's department. I dialed, and someone answered!

  The woman took my information and told me she would get someone out here as soon as possible. She said she would notify child services about Caleb, but that was a lie. I could hear it in her voice.

  For the life of me, I can't remember Caleb's last name. I wanted to try and call some of his kinfolks. Maybe it'll come to me later.

  11:45 AM...

  It’s been well over an hour since we left Mick and Jason at the new house in the woods. We heard two gunshots within fifteen minutes of getting inside but we haven't heard anything since. I'm worried. I want them back, and I want them back now!

  12:15 PM...

  Somehow, Nana's call got through to me. I almost jumped out of my skin when the phone rang.

  She heard from my sister, Rona, today. I don't know how Rona got through to Nana, but she was using her cell phone. The racing convoy made it as far as Chattanooga before they ran into a National Guard roadblock. All of their equipment, vehicles, and trailers were searched and a lot of things were "requisitioned" by the national guardsmen, including my fifteen-year-old nephews, Luke and Larson! I don't know about you, but I'd call that an involuntary draft, or more like… Kidnapping. Those boys are only fifteen, for Pete's sake!

  The guardsmen took all the boys and girls that were over the age of fourteen as well as a couple of the "daddy's" who were under the age of thirty. This is a junior racing group. There were lots of kids in that convoy.

  My brother-in-law, Kevin, tried to hold his boys back, but he was threatened with an M16, hit in the head with a club, and warned to stand back unless he wanted to die right there. GULP!

  The boys have been taken to some sort of training camp. The guardsmen assured my sister that they'll only be trained to help guard places like grocery stores, roadblocks, and other public places.

  The racing convoy is not able to leave Chattanooga because all of their extra fuel has been "requisitioned" and all of the gas stations are closed. They've circled their motorhomes up in the Appalachians, somewhere near Lookout Mountain.

  My nephews know where they are and those boys are very smart. Smart runs in our family.

  My sister's a big ball of upset and fire-breathing furious. Nana and Pop are almost worried out of their minds and so am I, for that matter. I told Nana I'd try to call her back tonight to see if she's heard any more news.

  12:45 PM...

  Mick and Jason are still out there and I want them back bad! I hear footsteps on the porch. I'm going to see if it's them!

  Be right back…

  YAY! They're back. I gotta put some food in 'em and hear about what happened after Marisa and I skedaddled home. Then, I have to call Nana back.

  5:00 PM..
.

  Wait 'til you hear what happened! It is scary. It’s very scary. Nope, its capital letters BIG BAD SCARY!

  After Marisa and I left, Mick and Jason decided to get a closer look at Unky Bo. Jason bent down to identify the "thing" in Unky Bo's hand. He slid it away from Unky Bo with a stick and discovered that it was the leg of a child. Unky Bo had been gnawing on it like a KFC drumstick. When he realized what it was, Jason had to turn away and call Ralph in the bushes.

  Mick said that Jason looked green when he came back over to Unky Bo's body. He held the rest of breakfast down, if there was anything left to hold down.

  There wasn't much else to describe about the remains of Unky Bo. His skin was loose and hanging. His hand looked like it had been chewed on, and when Mick used the barrel of Mr. Winchester to raise his pant leg, they saw a dirty bandage with a perfect shaped bite mark bleeding through. Mick thinks the big red bubbles were blood bubbles coming from the tear ducts of his eyes, and he wasn't about to burst them and risk getting any blood on himself or Jason.

  Black, thick blood was oozing from the back of Unky Bo's head along with a side dish of skull fragments and brain matter. There was a big ol' bullet hole right smack dab in the middle of Unky Bo's forehead. Thank you, Mr. Winchester.

  They decided to check the outbuildings before venturing into the house. As they approached the enclosed shed, Jason tripped on a tree root and shot a maple tree with Sam Colt. Mick almost smacked him in the head before he bellowed at him to put his safety on and keep goin'.

  They sneaked up to the enclosed shed and took a look in the window. There was nothing except piles of junk, a bunch of sand, and leftover bricks from the recent construction of the house. They opened the door as quietly as possible and made sure there was no living creature inside. It appeared that someone was building a blacksmith oven at one side. They closed the door and headed toward the tractor shed.

  At this point of the story, I just about laughed my rear off. I asked them if they really thought they could sneak up on someone after letting loose with two big ol' gunshots and Jason loudly calling Ralph a few minutes prior. They just stared at me. Marisa and I giggled off and on until Mick threatened not to tell us anything else. We shut up and let him tell his tale.

  They sneaked up (giggle) to the west side of the tractor shed.

  Jason went around the back as quietly as he could and came up to the front on the east side. Mick motioned to Jason, and they both jumped to the front of the shed with Mr. Winchester and Mr. Colt pointing straight ahead. They saw a Kubota tractor, a riding mower, a good sized flatbed trailer, and a few yard tools.

  Jason told Mick there was a little goat path behind the tractor shed, so they went to see where it led. It took them into the tree-line and straight to one of those tornado shelters buried most of the way in the dirt. Mick opened the door and looked inside. There was a couple of lawn chairs folded and leaning against the wall, but that was all. They closed the door and headed back up the path.

  They decided that it was time to go inside the house, and they were going in by the back door. There's a wraparound porch that goes from the back door around the west side of the house. Mick said there are pots of dead flowers and herbs all over the back porch.

  They noticed a few spots that looked like dried blood and drag marks leading up the porch steps, disappearing underneath the back door. When they reached the door, they saw that it was cracked.

  Just above the doorknob, stick to the door and frame, was a lot of blood and pieces of flesh. I'm guessing that Unky Bo might have gotten his fingers slammed in that door and had trouble pulling them out. Mick guesses the same thing.

  They slowly pushed the door open and stepped into the kitchen with Mr. Winchester and Mr. Colt leading the way.

  Mick said they stepped into the kitchen. Jason said they stepped into hell itself, and Mick decided to agree.

  Between the oven and the little kitchen island was a gurgling, snarling young woman, or what used to be a young woman. She was bent down, sitting on her knees and having a feast from the midsection of a young boy. The boy was snarling and gurgling himself but, even with half his midsection and one leg gone, he was still alive... err... undead.

  Jason pointed Sam Colt and relieved the woman of the top of her head. She fell on the floor beside the still gurgling boy. She was covered in blood and entrails from head to toe. Mick said he wasn't interested in rolling her around to look for a bite mark. It was obvious she'd been bitten.

  Blood, guts, gore, and some type of fettuccini dish is spread all over the kitchen. There are bits of flesh and hair stuck to the walls, laying among broken plates and appliances.

  The gurgling boy was confused as to whether he should reach out to his mother, or reach up to Mick and Jason. He was snapping his teeth and almost convulsing. He couldn’t roll himself onto one side or the other. The little stump where his leg used to be had black goo oozing slowly into a puddle on the floor. Mick didn't shoot him at that time. He said he just wasn't ready yet.

  Jason had become very still and quiet. Mick decided to get him moving by checking out the rest of the house. Sam Colt and Mr. Winchester led the way into the remaining rooms.

  Mick said three of the bedrooms upstairs have homemade name plates on the doors. They read "Caleb, Frankie, and Davis" respectively. I remembered that those were the names of the three little boys who'd visited the goats last summer.

  Mick sent Jason to check out the front porch while he went back downstairs and relieved little Davis/Frankie of the torture he had must have been feeling. They dragged both bodies outside and laid them beside Unky Bo. They made sure the doors were closed and locked before heading home.

  Jason's expression is very solemn and he's going to lie down for a while. I'm afraid he was thinking of his young son when he saw that gurgling boy being eaten by his own mother.

  I'm goin’ in the kitchen and put together something for supper. See ya later.

  10:00 PM...

  I'm lying on my bed, watching reruns of Letterman from the nineties. The TV stations still on the air are playing reruns of old shows. I can't sleep.

  Caleb has attached himself to Marisa and he's asleep between her and Jason. Amber's sleeping in Carisa's bed, snuggled up against Carisa's back. Amber has about three-quarters of the bed and Carisa looks like she's about to fall off the side.

  Mick's in the recliner, staring at the walls. His head falls to the side every once in a while and it looks like he might sleep, but he jerks back and continues to stare.

  He's thinking. I can almost see the wheels turning. Mr. Winchester's on his lap.

  Opie's asleep on the floor at the base of the recliner. He has doggie running dreams every so often and his legs twitch like he's running through a meadow.

  The goats are locked in the barn again.

  Mick and I are both concerned that they didn't find the other brother or the daddy. I told him that he had to go back in the morning and grab a family bible, or mail, or something else so that I can get Caleb's last name. I also want him to grab any photo albums he can find so we can determine which brother was "Momma's" victim and which one might still be out there.

  We need to figure out a way to find out where "Daddy" is. I might go back with Mick, if only to grab some clothes for Caleb. I'll keep trying to call but, if the sheriff or coroner’s office hasn't come for the bodies by tomorrow afternoon, we'll have to bury them. We can't risk illness from dead bodies lying around, especially HDI infected bodies.

  Carisa's not allowed in public at all. I’m afraid she'll get "requisitioned." I'm worried they might want Jason and Marisa too, maybe even Mick.

  I wish he would come in and hold me. I know he has to mentally come to terms with what happened today, and he will protect his family at any cost, so I will not push him. Nothing is funny anymore.

  Saturday, January 4

  2:00 AM...

  We heard a huge explosion from the direction of town. It was so loud that it shook the gr
ound and rattled the windows. If we didn't live where we do, I would've thought an earthquake had just occurred. Mick said he came up out of the recliner so fast that he almost hit his head on the ceiling. Marisa and Jason are coming down the hallway to see what's going on. I just heard Carisa's door open and she's headed out as well. Caleb, Amber, and Opie are still dead to the world asleep. I don't like using the d-e-a-d word to describe them. I might have to edit that out for my own sanity.

  We'll be up for the rest of the night.

  The power's out again and the phones are out as well, at least for us. We don't have any corded phones in the house so, when the power goes out, our wireless phone base goes dead and we can't use our phones. We have our cell phones but can't get through to anyone, not even by text, which makes them basically useless.

  Mick says the phone company relay stations usually switch to battery power when the electricity is off, and they could last as long as four hours. If I ever get to a store again, I plan to pick up a corded phone or two for "just in case." This will only work if the person I'm trying to call also has a corded phone, so I'll pick up a couple extras for Marisa and Nana.

  Mick and Jason are planning to head into town this morning and see if they can find out what the loud explosion was. We've put off going back to the new house, now called "Caleb's house," until they get back from town. I'm afraid for them to go into town, but we need to find out what happened and we need any other local or national news we can get. I don't want either of them to go into town alone.

  Mick's in a snit this morning, worrying over his family in Michigan. There's no way we can hop in the Jeep and make a fourteen-hour trip to see about them. We can't get through to any of them on the phone.

  They're prepper's too. They have goats, chickens, rabbits, and pigs. I know they have plenty to eat. I just worry about someone attacking them and trying to take over their farm. Grampa also has an assortment of burglar deterrent devices and he's pretty darn good with a bow and arrow. I still worry about them. Mick has two brothers and two sisters who are all good with weapons. I pray they're all together and safe.