Dying Days: Death Sentence

by Brent Abell

  “Well, well, where’d you find this?” George asked and took the bottle from her. He gazed at the water and licked his lips.

  “This place had a few things left in it.”

  “I wonder if it has some painkillers,” George said in between gulps of water.

  Nora reached into her pocket and tossed him the bottle she had dug out from inside.

  “Oxy?” George snorted.

  “There were a few other places with a wide variety of whatever you need for your drug cravings,” Nora joked.

  “You have to know.”

  “I know and I’m going to get you some more,” Nora quietly replied.

  “Thank you,” George said and coughed. The spasms rocked his body and Frank jerked awake. He let out a weak cough and put his head back down.

  “Where are you guys sleeping?” George asked.

  “We’re crashing out in the main living area. We found enough stuff to make it feel like home,” Nora answered and sat down on the bed next to him. “You can stay in here if you want.”

  “No, I’m not special; I’ll sleep out with you.”

  “Lay back down and I’ll go hunt through some bathrooms for you,” Nora said. Her voice was calm and sweet.

  “Thank you,” George replied and closed his eyes.

  ***

  The first time George awoke, the room was dark. In the other room, he heard the others laugh and joke. He was happy for them; they needed the rest and a break from the war they waged against the undead. He felt for Frank and at first couldn’t feel the dog’s chest move. Keeping his hand on the pug’s back, he finally felt him breathe. George relaxed, but he knew it was getting to be time.

  Next to the bed, George found a flashlight and another bottle of water. He opened the bottle and drank greedily from the plastic. The water was warm, but still tasted like the sweetest drink he’d ever had, considering the circumstances. Next to the water was also another three bottles of pills. George opened the nightstand drawer and found a small spiral bound notepad and a pencil. The eraser has been chewed on, so he knew the owner loved to think and write.

  Turning on the flashlight, George began to write. He had so much to tell and very little time to tell it.

  ***

  George awoke before the others and sat up on his bed. Inside, he felt his body roil and he doubled over in pain. It took all he had to keep his cries muffled as the nausea overtook him. The last thing he wanted to do was wake the crew up before dawn. It had been a difficult journey and they needed their rest. Frank shivered and snorted next to George. The pug cuddled up next to George’s leg and tried to get comfortable again. It sneezed and George stroked the top of his head. The pug closed its eyes and tried to sleep, but its breath was swallow and raspy.

  “I know the feeling,” George whispered. “Let’s watch the sunrise; what do you say?”

  The sick pug looked up at him with its big innocent eyes and snorted. George could see the illness had taken its toll on the poor dog and he wanted to comfort it. Slowly, so he could be a quiet as possible, George worked his way to his feet and bent over to pick up Frank. In the last few days, the dog had become too lethargic and shaky to get up and walk on his own. At first, Frank would be able to right himself and walk, but the more days that passed he could barely get around and fell over constantly. When George got the pug to his chest, it tried to look up and lick George’s face, but his tongue lolled to the side and it couldn’t do it.

  George picked up the letter he had written and slipped out into the living room, where the others slept and generally lived. Quietly, he maneuvered through the sleeping bodies and set the folded letter next to Nora’s head. Nora rolled over and said something in her sleep. George froze and waited until she had settled back in before he dared to move again. Todd and Greg didn’t move so George headed to the condo’s door. Before he opened the door, he glanced around at the place they’d called home for the past couple of days. It had been a hard fought battle, but he hoped they could stay longer before moving again. Since it appeared the rumors and stories of the zombies migrating south were true, he figured the others would be safe in St. Augustine for a while.

  Sighing, George opened the door and gently closed it behind him.

  Nothing in the complex moved. A light breeze blew in from the ocean and Frank perked up when they walked down the stairs and out into the morning air. The pug loved going outside and either sitting in the sun or trying to walk on the beach before his sickness had grown worse over the last few days.

  The breeze smelled of salt and decay, but George welcomed it. Since the mess had started and he had lost his Sally, he’d waited for this moment. Once he had lost Harry in Orlando and had found out his son was dead, he’d prayed for this moment. Now, with the sick pug at his side, they strolled down to the beach to welcome their fates. He felt the cancer and the diabetes eating away at him and was tired of the pain. He was tired of putting on the brave face for the others to see. He hated leaving Nora this way. She’d started to look up to him as a father-figure, but he didn’t have it in him anymore to try.

  Frank rolled his head around and his breathing became shallower. He coughed again and the poor dog’s body shook in George’s arm. He petted the top of his head again and gave a light scratch behind his ears as he continued his walk to the beach. He’d left his shoes in the condo and relished the feel of the cool, damp sand between his toes. The tide had backed out to the ocean and the gulls dove down in their attempts to snatch breakfast off the beach. The small crabs raced from their holes and tried to make it back in the water before they were grabbed and eaten.

  “The circle of life,” George muttered. He coughed and covered his mouth with his free hand. When he pulled it away, he saw the crimson in his palm. His time was up.

  The morning was quiet and the only sound, besides the gulls, was the waves washing up on the beach. George got to where the tide washed ashore and sat down. His pants got soaked in the wet sand, but he didn’t mind. He sat Frank beside him and stroked the top of his head again. On the horizon, the sun began to rise and its rays warmed on their bodies. The pug looked up and closed his eyes, enjoying the comfort the petting provided. It coughed again and George could feel its labored breathing grow lighter and lighter.

  “You were a good dog. I’m sure whoever you belonged to loved you dearly,” George whispered to the pug.

  Frank glanced up one last time to make sure George was still with him and closed his eyes. George felt Frank’s chest rise one last time and then fell still. Tears welled up in George’s eyes and spilled down his cheeks.

  “Go be with the other good dogs and maybe your owners will be there waiting on you too,” George sobbed and continued petting the pug’s head. He felt like if he stopped, he’d be admitting death had won and he had to hold the Reaper at bay for as long as he could.

  Another wave of pain roiled in George’s chest and he pulled the pills from his pocket. He wasn’t sure what they were, but he figured enough of whatever they were would be sure to kill him. He couldn’t stand the pain any longer and the only tether he really had to the world sat dead by his side. Without the pug, George didn’t know how he would stay grounded enough to survive. Not that he had much longer anyway. The cancer ate away at him and he’d never get the help he needed in the wasteland the world had become. His body was doing what a zombie horde or crazed despot could never do and that was to kill him.

  George relished being a survivor, but he wanted, in his last moments, to give the Reaper the finger and go out in his own way. He leaned over and kissed the top of Frank’s head. Crying, he popped the handful of pills in his mouth and, cupping his hands, washed them down with the salty ocean water. After a few minutes, he started feeling sleepy and lay down in the sand next to Frank. One last time, he cuddled the pug and he felt his breath grow shallow also.

  When the sun rose fully on the horizon, George finally saw the light in two worlds.

  ***

  Nora awoke and b
olted up in her sleeping bag. She wiped the sleep and nightmares from her eyes and stretched her arms high in the air. Yawning, she looked around the condo and felt her stomach rumble in hunger, as the last memories of her nightly dance in the dream realm faded away. It’d been a few days since they had had any real food and the candy bar she had before bed hadn’t done much to curb her gnawing hunger. Something about the room didn’t seem right to her. It was too quiet and she felt like something was off.

  Looking around at the bed rolls, the first thing she noticed was the letter next to her and she knew what it meant. Quietly, she slipped her torn jeans on over her panties and threw a tee-shirt over her bare breasts. Grabbing the note, she stood up and mentally prepared for what the morning would hold. Carefully, she stepped through the living room area where they all slept together, for protection. By the door, she put on her boots and slipped out of the condo.

  The morning was still cool and not too humid yet, as she opened the building’s main door and walked out into the dead world. Down on the beach, she could see two shapes at the tide’s edge. The human figure leaned over and hugged the small body before lying down. She knew immediately it was George and Frank. He hadn’t told the others, but she knew how sick he was. He had confided in her how much the pain tore him up and she also knew how sick Frank was. They’d tried everything they could for the poor pug, but nothing seemed to work.

  Nora began to cry. She understood now why George wanted the pills from the condo bathrooms. Watching his body lay down, she knew Frank was gone and George was gone now, too. She’d loved the old man and the cute little pug.

  “Goodbye George and goodbye Frank, my poor sweet brave little boy,” she sobbed.

  Nora walked over to the rail fence and sat on the top. She perched there with her pistol out and stood guard over their bodies. Finally, she unfolded the note and read it. By the time she read it a fifth time, her eyes couldn’t cry anything else; the well had gone dry. Nora knew when the other two woke up, they’d bury them and move on. She wanted to stay, but their path to salvation was to keep moving north. George believed good things awaited them there, so they would go in honor of him and Frank.

  And moving north would be what they did.

  END

  Afterward

  We’ve come to the end of George’s journey and the beginning of a new chapter for Nora, Greg, and Todd. I hope you’ve enjoyed the new frontiers of the Dying Days world as I began to shift the action to the north. I want to carry on with the series and see how the infection differs from in the Florida sun.

  You want to hear something funny? After I wrote my first few zombie stories; I thought I was done with them. I didn’t want to get caught up in a singular genre, but here we are. This is the second zombie series I have going and it looks like the undead are going to be a part of me for a very long time.

  Overall, it was fun to revisit George and Harry. When I wrote, “The Happiest Kingdom on Earth”, for Armand Rosamilia’s Dying Days anthology; I hated not getting more into their relationship. I really wanted to go back and flesh out their story. How did they meet? Why did George like him so much? How would George carry on afterwards? These were all questions that weighed on my mind for a couple of years.

  One day, I contacted Armand about the story. I wanted to write about George and Harry, but I asked to strip out the Dying Days stuff and make it an independent book. He told me no, I had to make it into a Dying Days book and gave me his full blessing.

  This book is the result and I hope you enjoyed it. It is my hope you liked it enough to see more of how I want to expand the world and see how the virus is tearing down the rest of the country. Some of it will be brutally violent and some will be brutally heartbreaking, but it will be a story of humanity and our will to survive.

  Frank is course based on my late pug Cody. Frank became my therapy following Cody’s death. I know the end was sad, but I needed to try to come to grips with my buddy’s loss. On that beach, it was me sitting next to Frank and holding him in the end. It helped, but the hole left in my life is still too large to heal. It was hard to write, but even harder to re-read during edits. Love your pets; you never know how long you have with them.

  Well, I must go and get busy on whatever is coming next.

  Brent

  Somewhere on sanity’s edge

  10-9-2017

  Brent Abell resides in Southern Indiana with his wife, sons, and the spirit of his beloved pug who still hangs out at his desk looking for treats. Brent enjoys anything horror related. In his writing career, he’s had stories featured in over 30 publications from multiple presses. His books Southern Devils, Southern Devils: Reconstruction of the Dead, In Memoriam, The Calling, and Wicked Tales for Wicked People collection are available now. He is also a co-author of the horror-comedy Hellmouth series. Currently, he is working on the third book in the Southern Devils series and the next White Creek book. You can hang out with him at his blog "Our Darkest Fears" at http://brentabell.com.

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