Everything Dies [Season One]

by T. W. Malpass

  ‘Just get your family in the back of the truck, and we’ll bring you up to speed once we get movin’,’ Salty said.

  ‘What about him?’ Adam asked, pointing to Hollister.

  ‘He’s been bitten,’ Raine said.

  Each of them passed by the soldier on their way to the back of the vehicle. Vincent got in first, and Adam lifted Emily up to him, then he helped Kristin hop on board before climbing in himself. He held out his hand to Ethan, but he ignored it and struggled to pull himself inside. They sat on the raised blocks on either side and gazed at one another like prisoners of war being transported to an undisclosed location.

  Salty got behind the wheel and started the truck’s engine. Raine hung back with Hollister. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘I didn’t really have a whole lot of choice, so don’t thank me. If I hadn’t gotten my dumb ass bit, I’d probably be helping Spears hunt people like you down. I’m worse than those dead bastards out there?’ The monstrous voice had all but taken over his own. It growled low – distended.

  ‘No, you’re not,’ Raine said.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping he’d be dead when she opened them. She turned her back on him and walked around to the passenger side of the cabin. As soon as she entered, Salty pulled away, leaving a trail of tailpipe fumes to drift over Hollister’s shivering body.

  Salty squinted at the fuel gauge. ‘We’ve got half a tank of gas left.’

  ‘Will it get us where we’re going?’ Raine said.

  ‘If we don’t get blown to shit first.’

  ‘Spears may be looking for his truck, but it makes better camouflage than a civilian vehicle.’

  ‘Small mercies, huh?’ Salty said.

  ‘Yeah, right.’ Raine felt the barrel of the assault rifle pressing against her leg. She gazed out of the window and saw a group of five roamers in the adjacent field. They seemed to know where they were heading, all together. Shambling, swinging limbs, occasionally staring up into the cruel rays of the new day.

  Episode Three

  I Watched You Burn

  1

  O.B. tried to take in another deep breath, but the stale air inside the station wagon just didn’t cut it. He felt like he constantly had a pair of hands around his throat and the heat of the other bodies wasn’t helping. Sweat seeped from between the ample folds of fat on his belly, further darkening the black fibres of his T-shirt. Even his wrists were moist beneath his silver-studded leather bracelets, and his spiked, blue-tinted hair was starting to flop in the humidity. He reached for his soda can in the cup holder, swilling the last dregs around inside it before knocking it back. It felt warm and sickly as it went down and didn’t do anything to quench his violent thirst. ‘Please, can we just open one window, Mama?’

  Paula Gonzalez looked at him accusingly from the driver’s seat. The woman was so large, she could only just manage to squeeze behind the wheel without being crushed, her summer dress clinging to her fat like floral body paint. ‘How many times, Oswald. I don’t want anything getting in here. Think about your sisters for a change.’

  O.B. twisted awkwardly so he could view the passengers in the back. He could already hear his youngest sibling, Renata, loud and clear. She’d been screaming and kicking her legs in her car seat for the past twenty minutes. His teenage sister, Jazmin, sat beside her, but was far too interested in her cellphone to take any notice. She frantically jabbed the touch screen display with her index finger, hoping for a miracle: network service. Sara, his middle sister, sat with her legs open, a big bag of cheese poofs resting between them, happy as a clam. Her face and the front of her shirt were smeared in orange dust from her snack. Behind them all was their cousin, Bruno. He was gazing at O.B. in desperation, trapped between the screaming baby and their barking golden retriever.

  Right then, O.B. had an idea. It surprised him that enough oxygen was getting to his brain to allow him to have one. ‘What about Colonel?’ he said.

  ‘What about him?’ Paula replied, glaring over the frame of her chain-linked glasses.

  ‘I read that if a dog is stuck in a hot car, they can die from a fit or a heart attack in less than fifteen minutes.’

  ‘Where did you hear that?’

  ‘It’s true, Mrs. Gonzalez.’ Bruno piped up. ‘They can’t sweat like we do, so they overheat real easy.’

  Paula paused for thought. She’d gotten so used to her constant body odour that she rarely noticed it, but even she was aware of how ripe the car had become. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Open one of the back windows for the Colonel, por favor, but just that one, so my chico can get some air.’

  ‘Thanks, Mama,’ O.B. said.

  ‘I wasn’t talking about you.’

  The dog barked again, reminding him where he stood in his mother’s chain of consideration.

  Bruno rubbed the top of his head and leaned over the seat to gaze over Jazmin’s shoulder, as she continued to angrily prod her phone screen. ‘Y’know you’re wasting your time, right? It said on the news before we left that the cell towers were down, from the East Coast to New Mexico.’

  Jazmin felt his hot breath on her neck and immediately rolled her eyes. ‘I know one cell tower that needs to come down. Mama? Bruno is staring down my top again,’ she said.

  ‘Quit it, Bruno. That’s your cousin,’ Paula shouted.

  ‘I wasn’t. She’s a liar,’ Bruno said, slumping back into his seat.

  The argument forced a smile from O.B., but his screaming baby sister and the oppressive heat of the car quickly wiped it away again.

  Sara suddenly stopped gobbling her cheese poofs and grabbed Jazmin’s cellphone, smudging the orange dust from her fingers all over its screen.

  ‘Goddamn it, Sara. You little retard,’ Jazmin said.

  Paula shifted her body to look behind her, rocking the car’s suspension. ‘Mi corazon! What did you call your sister?’

  ‘She cheesed the front of my cell!’

  ‘I just wanted to play one of the games,’ Sara said. ‘You’re only trying to text your boyfriend anyway.’

  ‘Shut your mouth,’ Jazmin said, her dark eyes bulging as though they were about to pop.

  ‘Jazmin is too young for boyfriends,’ Paula said.

  Sara smirked and delved back into her bag of cheesy poofs, unable to keep her mouth shut for long. ‘So who was the boy that came over last time she babysat for us?’

  Jazmin wanted to reach over and smack her in the mouth, but she figured she was already in enough trouble. Instead, she shrank into her seat and folded her arms, awaiting her mother’s wrath.

  Paula sat with her head bowed, as if in prayer. ‘Young lady, we’ll say no more about this now, but when we get to your father in Chicago, we’re going to have a serious discussion about the rules we have set down for you.’

  Jazmin shook her head. ‘Like they even matter anymore.’

  ‘You say that to your father, Jazmin. Say that to him and we’ll see if it matters anymore.’

  Renata kicked her little legs and screamed even harder, causing O.B.’s ears to throb.

  ‘Instead of sitting there sulking, why don’t you see to the baby?’ Paula said.

  Jazmin huffed, unlocked her arms, and shoved a bottle half-full of juice into Renata’s open mouth. The child immediately rejected it and continued to whine.

  ‘Me and Bruno are gonna take a walk to get some air,’ O.B. said.

  ‘Oh no. You ain’t goin’ no place, Oswald,’ Paula said.

  ‘I’ll be right outside, Mama.’

  ‘Oh shit,’ Bruno exclaimed from the back. ‘The Colonel just farted.’

  ‘Ewww.’ Jazmin screwed up her face and covered her nose, ruining her good looks.

  Sara just laughed and attacked her cheesy poofs.

  It took a while for the dog’s smell to hit the front of the car, but when it did, it hadn’t lost any of its potency.

  ‘¡Guácala!’ Paula attempted to waft the meaty stench away. As soon as she began to wind down her wi
ndow, the rest of the Gonzalez family did the same and they were no more protected than if they were standing in the road.

  ‘That’s it. I’m stepping out.’ Bruno didn’t wait for approval.

  O.B. was halfway out before his mother realised. ‘Stay close to the car, Oswald. Close enough to hear me calling you,’ Paula said.

  ‘That means we can go anywhere in the state,’ Bruno whispered.

  The first thing they did was to search between the piles of suitcases on the roof rack to find their skateboards and pull them down.

  O.B. placed his boot on the tail of his board and examined the huge line of traffic that was snaking its way along Route 57, right up to the glistening cityscape of Chicago. ‘Do you think he’s still there?’

  ‘Your Papa?’ Bruno looked up at the lights. ‘He wouldn’t let you down. He’s nothing like mine. He’ll be there, cuz. You worry too much.’

  ‘He didn’t call us when the phones were still up.’

  ‘Dude, do you have any idea how many people were using their cells when everything went to shit? The networks couldn’t cope with it. They were flat-out crashing. At least that’s what they said when the TVs were still up.’

  ‘I guess so,’ O.B. said.

  The Gonzalez family weren’t the only ones staying inside their vehicles, but many travellers had started to settle down for the long haul. Some stood outside chatting with other motorists. Some opened out the flatbeds in their trucks or placed down blankets in the back of their trailers. The lucky ones were the motorhome owners.

  A pretty flash-looking one was sitting just behind the station wagon. It didn’t seem like the kind O.B. had seen before – there was no overhang above its cabin; it looked more like a coach than an RV.

  A guy was sitting on the hood of his car nearby, feeding peanuts to his kid and gazing up at the stars in the clear sky. The child couldn’t have been any older than six. O.B. couldn’t hear what his father was saying to him, but he could tell by his facial expressions that he was trying to be enthusiastic, attempting to turn the whole experience into an adventure. The boy continued to stare at the sky, but the man noticed O.B.’s eyes on him. For just a moment, his smile faded and a crushing weight of weariness pulled at his face, but once the child reached for another peanut, the man’s smile returned and he managed to hold it together again.

  O.B.’s focus was broken by a shout coming from about six cars further down the line. Everyone outside turned to see what the commotion was. The shout soon transformed into a wail of distress. It sounded like a woman, and she was calling out a name.

  ‘Kevin! Kevin! Kevin!’

  O.B. jumped onto his board and kicked towards the wailing. Paula waved from the window of the station wagon, too immobile and cramped up to do anything more. ‘O.B., don’t you leave my sight.’

  ‘Un memento, Mama,’ O.B. said, never looking back.

  ‘Dude, let it be,’ Bruno said.

  O.B. skated right past him, going in the direction of the car. Bruno rolled his eyes and followed.

  Once they got alongside the car, it was as O.B. feared. A black woman was cradling a young man in the back seat of the Ford Sedan. The door was open so the boy’s skin could be kissed by the breeze that swept across the highway. His face was dripping with sweat and his skin was a shade of grey.

  O.B. realised the teen must be really sick, but then he noticed that his eyes were open, and that they were dilated and unresponsive. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen a dead body before. In a strange way, he thought the boy looked new, like he’d just received a fresh sheen of polish – a glow of deadness. His mouth moved slightly, opening a gap between his lips, as if he were somehow trying to force out a whisper from beyond the grave.

  All the woman could think to do was stroke his hair and rock him like a baby. To her, he still was one.

  Sitting behind them on the back seat, a girl not much older than the boy was gripping the woman around her waist and weeping into her shoulder.

  ‘Dude, check it out,’ Bruno whispered. He pointed to the teen’s right arm, which was draped across his mother’s lap.

  O.B. saw it – the bandage wrapped around his forearm and the red stain that was growing beneath it.

  ‘You know what that means. We have to get away from here.’

  ‘So do they.’ O.B. stepped off his board and approached the car.

  ‘O.B., no.’ Bruno thought about going with him, but the fear caused him to hang back.

  O.B. knelt down by the open door, turning his eyes from the sight of the dead boy as a sign of respect. ‘It seems hot in there,’ he said softly. ‘Why don’t you bring him outside so he can get more of the breeze? I’ll help you, if you like.’

  The woman sucked in her tears and gazed up at him inquisitively. ‘Yes. I think he would like that.’ She ran the back of her hand over his brow as she spoke.

  ‘OK then.’ O.B. supported the boy’s shoulders, careful not to handle him too roughly, and the woman shuffled from the back seat, holding onto her son’s limp legs. Together they managed to lay him on the road, facing the stars. His mother stayed by his side, holding his hand. She began sobbing again.

  Her daughter climbed out of the vehicle too, but remained on her feet. O.B. shared a look with her; one that told him she knew what would happen if they did not move away from her fallen brother. He hadn’t thought far enough ahead. His only idea was to get the women to at least create some distance between them and the teen’s corpse. Then he hoped that someone else would come to help. ‘You look like you could do with some water and something to eat. Do you have any?’ he asked.

  ‘We have nothing,’ the young girl said.

  ‘We can help. My mama brought lots of stuff with us. Our car is just over there. Maybe you and your mom could come with us.’

  The woman reacted to his suggestion by gripping her son’s hand even tighter, throwing her other arm across his chest to shield him.

  O.B. could see just how close her forearm was to his open mouth. ‘Oh no, I didn’t mean we should leave him alone. My cousin Bruno will take you over. I’ll wait here and watch over him for you.’

  The girl placed her hands on her mother’s shoulders. ‘Mom, we can trust him.’

  ‘No,’ the woman said. ‘I’m not leaving him with you. You can go get it and bring it here if you want, but I’m not moving from his side.’ She glanced around at the other motorists with suspicion, as if they were waiting to pounce and take away what was hers – the child that had gestated in her womb and grown into this young man, only to be burned out by an uncontrollable fever that had all but cooked his organs from the inside out.

  ‘Come on, B. Leave it,’ Bruno said, standing behind him and tugging at his arm.

  ‘No.’ O.B. tried to shrug him off.

  ‘Forget it, you idiot. She’s gone.’

  O.B. stopped struggling to face his cousin. ‘She’s still here, Bruno. She’s right here.’

  ‘You know what I meant.’ Bruno waved his hands in surrender. ‘Whatever, man.’

  They both flinched at the anguished scream of the young girl. The dead boy’s hand flexed and closed its fingers around his mother’s wrist. Something stirred within his grey eyes. Not life – a strange form of transient, necromantic existence that had become so common place in recent weeks. His open mouth widened further and forced out a gargled breath. He sat up abruptly, as if waking to an alarm clock, late for school. His head twisted mechanically in the direction of his mother, and in some obscure way, he seemed to recognise her.

  ‘Kevin,’ she sobbed. ‘You came back for me.’

  Of course, Kevin was no longer present – not in any real sense. What she was gazing upon with such heartbreaking maternal love was a human transformed. The creature lurched for her, gnashing its slathering jaws as it tried to take a bite out of her arm. The woman’s daughter grabbed the creature’s shirt and held it back just enough to keep its teeth from her flesh.

  Against his cousin’s protests, O.
B. threw himself into the fray and started to prise the corpse’s fingers from her wrist. They struggled. The tangle of bodies seesawed one way and then the other, but still the dead one wouldn’t let go – its hunger was all-consuming. It turned back in anger and made a reach for its former sibling, who prevented him from feeding. The girl screamed and let go, falling hard on the asphalt.

  The freed creature went back to its original prey, snapping its teeth in readiness. But before it could squeeze out a proper, gleeful groan, its face exploded, covering the distraught woman in blood, bone and sinew.

  O.B. caught a grisly splash of gore across the neck of his shirt. Only then did he hear the shot. His ears ringing, he traced the sound back to a nearby Buick. The grey-haired man in the driver’s seat was pointing the smoking Magnum right at them. O.B. got the impression he wanted to fire again, even though the creature had fallen still on the road. But the man withdrew his finger from the trigger and pulled his weapon inside his vehicle. He turned and stared through his windshield, as if he’d just witnessed someone else do it.

  The woman fell onto her back, her son’s brains sliding from her cheeks. For the first time since they had seen her, her weeping had ceased. She lay in silence, her eyes cold, her fists held up to her chin.

  O.B. got to his feet. His instinct was to run as far away from the scene as possible, but then he saw how broken-hearted the teenage girl was. She called for her mother, already aware what had become of her. She was in hell, like they all were.

  ‘B?’ Bruno’s voice had taken an ominous tone.

  The moment O.B. turned, he saw it. The golden crown atop the Sears Tower flickered like a faltering heartbeat, then died. It initiated a chain reaction, and the window lights started to wink out on the building. The darkness spread to the street signs, lamps and houses until there was only shrouded outlines left of Chicago.

  Only when it was as black as pitch did the groaning start. Most of the car engines on the highway had been switched off, so it was easy to hear, even in the distance. Soon, the other survivors noticed the sounds and stopped talking. It grew by the second, emanating from the depths of the forest. The trees began to sway and tremors could be felt right through the concrete road.