by T. W. Brown
“What do you mean…wiped out?”
I tried to think if there was any way that I could tell her stuff without it sounding worse.
“The wind turbines have been pulled down, and there may be some band of living humans behind it. Billy doubts that it is zombies.” So, apparently the answer to my “Can I make it sound any worse?” question is a big fat YES!
“Anybody home?”
If Billy could have picked a worse time to show up at the house, I sure couldn’t think of it. Melissa was past me and to the door faster than I’d ever seen her move in my life.
I imagine the neighbors got quite a show. Here is Billy, a few inches over six feet, and easily over two hundred and fifty pounds. Then you have Melissa…almost five feet even and maybe a hundred pounds if you dunked her in the creek fully clothed in patrol gear.
She was yelling louder than I’d ever heard and threatening Billy with things that I did not think a human body could physically do to itself. But, to his credit, Billy simply stood there and took it. Once, during the entire scene, his eyes met mine and I was able to mouth the words “I’m so sorry.”
Of all people, it was actually little Stevie that broke it up. He came walking up from the garden, face smeared with dirt, hands absolutely filthy. He was holding a handful of green beans in one hand.
“Hey, Mom?” he said, acting like his mother was not screaming at the top of her lungs, tears streaming down her face. “Can you make these for dinner tonight?”
It was just so completely random.
Melissa froze with her mouth open and just looked at Stevie like he had fallen from the sky. Then, she looked up at Billy and invited him to dinner.
I helped in the kitchen and sat down that night to the oddest and most awkward meal ever. Stevie and Jenna laughed and joked like there was nothing going on. By the time the Hayneses left, I was exhausted.
So, now I am in my bed, staring up at the ceiling…and I can’t get my eyes to shut. I can’t believe that I am finally going to get to leave the compound in the morning. I keep looking over by my door to where all my gear is piled up. Melissa even helped me check my field pack.
She actually sat down with me in my room and we sharpened knives together. I kept thinking she was going to make some sort of speech, but in the end, she simply kissed me on the forehead like she has every evening since I can remember after tucking me in for the night. I know she will not be out of her room when I leave in the morning, and that’s okay. In some ways, I think I am glad. I don’t want to show up at the muster point with my eyes all red from crying.
Stevie doesn’t think that I saw him slip a note in one of the side pouches on my pack. I think he is almost as excited for me as I am for myself.
Almost.
2
Vignettes LV
Juan set the axe down beside the tree and wiped the sweat from his face. The ground might be covered with a foot or so of snow, but he was sweating like this was the beaches of California or Florida.
The sound of laughter came in a rush as two figures bounded for him. Juan knelt and opened his arms to catch the twins as they leapt.
“Daddy!” the girl in the pink coat squealed.
As usual it was Della who made all the noise. Denita was the quiet one, and other than a sigh of contentment when her dad gave her a squeeze, she made almost no sound.
“Mama says that it is time for dinner.” Della cocked her hip and crossed her arms in that same way her mother had when she was disapproving of something, but would not actually voice the sentiment.
“Something wrong, hija?” Juan shot a glance at Denita. He already knew that he would get no answers there. He felt a momentary pang at her withdrawn countenance.
“You smell icky,” Della scolded, not having any problems at all expressing what was on her mind.
“That is because I have been working hard,” Juan said with a sly slowness. Without warning, he lunged at Della and the two rolled in the snow, Juan making a point of squeezing his daughter tight to his chest. The squeals of laughter were a welcome reward and the two engaged in some playful wrestling before Denita made a soft cough that signaled she had stood in the snow long enough and wished to return to the cabin.
Juan stood, dusting off the snow—making sure to send a shower of it Della’s direction. Once he got most of it brushed away, he grasped each daughter by the hand and started back to the cabin.
Today was the girls’ seventh birthday. As he crossed the gently rolling, snow-covered hills, he reflected on how good his life was compared to how it had been before the deaders.
He had a wonderful wife that he loved with all his heart. He had a few good friends that he knew he could trust with his life; and had done so on more than one occasion the past several years. He had beautiful twin daughters. Sadly, he’d also had a son. That was why Denita almost never spoke. She had been four when she witnessed the death of her brother.
“Yo, Juan!” a familiar voice called in greeting.
“Hey, Keith,” Juan hollered back, giving a nod to one of the men he trusted not only with his own life, but that of his family as well.
“We’ll be over shortly.” Keith gave a wave of his hand, indicating the heavily bundled woman holding an equally swaddled infant.
“See you then.”
Juan opened his gate and ushered the girls inside. Mackenzie was standing in the open doorway, hand on her hip in almost the exact same pose of disapproval that Della had struck only moments before. Lips pressed tight, somebody unfamiliar with the woman would think that she was absolutely furious. She was simply annoyed. Juan knew the furious Mackenzie and this was not even close.
“Are you deliberately trying to avoid this, Mister Juan Hoya?” Mackenzie gave him a light backhand to the chest.
“Maybe,” Juan replied honestly.
“Well you don’t have much choice if you want to be anywhere near me.” The woman reached into her apron and produced a set of well sharpened scissors. “You can grow that nasty beard as much as you want when you are out hunting, but when you come home to me—”
Mackenzie was giving the familiar speech. The last line was known well enough that Della was able to cut her off and finish it.
“You will be the baby smooth hunk I fell in love with.” Della covered her mouth with her hands, stifling a giggle as her parents turned their attention her way, each with raised eyebrow and the hint of a smile.
Juan had been out with the hunting party for almost five weeks. They had returned with enough meat to get a good start on stocking the larders for all the families of their little community. Moose, bear, salmon, and snowshoe hare were plentiful.
They had even been able to stop in at the native village of the Kluti Kaah. It was always good to check in and see if there was any news. There had been. Fortunately, it was the same news they had been getting for the past three years.
No deaders.
“So, have you given my suggestion any thought?” Mackenzie asked as Juan slipped out of his clothes and stepped into the wash basin.
“About striking out for Anchorage?” Juan gave the cord a tug and allowed the lukewarm water to pour over him.
“If we are going to do it this year, it needs to be in the next few weeks, otherwise we risk being caught out there in the weather.”
Juan sighed. He had wanted to punch that damn caravan driver in the face. All his talk about how the lights were on in Anchorage had gotten Mackenzie all worked up. She wasn’t the only one to get the itch in their little community, but she was the only one that mattered.
“Why do you want to do this?” Juan asked as he soaped up.
“Because I want our children to have a shot at a normal life.”
Juan could have parroted her response. Lord knew, he’d heard that almost more times than her line about his smooth face.
“And what is so great about normal? Look where that got us.” Juan threw up his hands, indicating their current surroundings. “Besides, we got it
nice here. Food is more than plentiful, the girls have plenty of friends, and they even have you as their teacher.”
Mackenzie opened her mouth to respond, but the knock at the door silenced her. She gave Juan a stern look with narrowed eyes and went to answer the door.
Juan sighed a huge breath of relief. Now, if Keith and the others could keep their mouths shut for just a few more days, he could spring the surprise and make Mackenzie’s face light up.
They were moving to Anchorage.
***
The woman stood on the shore. The chilled salt water washed over her feet, but she barely felt it. Truth be told, she barely felt anything…ever.
That had not always been the case. Years ago she had been a silly twit of a girl. She mooned over practically every boy she ever made eye contact with and was prone to tiny fits and tantrums when she did not get her way. Then the zombies came.
When they poured into the cinema on that fateful night, Gemma’s life had changed. It would be almost a year into that nightmare when she would discover that things could actually be worse.
Gemma had been travelling with a woman named Vix and a young man named Harold who was just a year or so older than she. They had gone through all sorts of hell, but they kept finding ways to cheat death at the last second or escape by the slightest margin.
That all came to an end one day.
She and Harold had insisted on checking out a fort that promised sanctuary. It had been the single most violent and horrible day of her life. Those men had held her while they beat poor Harold to death with metal batons. She had heard the snapping of bones along with the howls and yelps of pain despite the fact that they had shoved a large stone into his mouth and then bound it into place with a leather strap. Then they produced a zombie head from a bag and after cutting away his trousers, they shoved that head between his legs.
They cut off both his feet with saws. When he passed out from the pain, they threw water on his face and went back to work. She had no idea when he finally died, but she had been glad if only because his sounds of absolute agony finally ceased.
They brought her back to camp and passed her around, doing horrible things to her. When they finished, she was thrown in a cage with nine other women. She had curled up in a ball and cried.
That night, there was a series of screams and the sounds of fighting could be heard. In the morning, it was learned that several of the men had fallen victim to the zombie plague. Over a dozen men had to be executed because they showed the symptoms of those dark tracers in the eyes.
“You are one of the resistant,” a woman whispered in Gemma’s ear. Gemma turned to see an Indian woman who would have probably been beautiful enough to star in one of those Bollywood movies before all the abuse she had obviously suffered.
The woman’s name was Chaaya Kapoor. She explained to Gemma that she had been a biologist before what she referred to as “the unclean” arose and wiped out humanity. She went on to explain that before being captured, she had been with a small pack of survivors in Gillingham. They had discovered the fact that a person who was bitten and did not die could still infect a healthy person through fluid exchange much like HIV was transmitted.
It took Gemma a moment to understand what the woman was getting at. When she did, a ripple of fear tore through her.
“They’re going to kill me,” Gemma whimpered. The moment she said it, a sense of calm seemed to pour over her soul and put her at peace.
“Why are you smiling?” Chaaya asked.
“Because.” Gemma closed her eyes and let out a sigh that came from the greatest relief that she could remember feeling since this nightmare had begun. “I will never have to endure a night like that again. It is over.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Gemma’s eyes flew open as a prick of pain shot up her arm. Chaaya had grabbed her arm and brought it to her mouth. Gemma jerked away, but it was too late.
“What are you doing?” Gemma hissed.
“I will either die and become one of the unclean, or I will become like you and the next time those animals take me…they will pay the price,” Chaaya replied with a wicked smile that was made all the more sinister by the smear of blood at the corners of her mouth and the dark stains on her teeth.
Two other women sitting nearby had obviously overheard. Both begged to be next. While it all seemed perfectly horrific, Gemma understood their desire and nodded. Within minutes all the other women in the cage had heard and asked to take some of her tainted blood as well.
Sadly, not all of the women were immune. However, Gemma was amazed to discover that Chaaya and one other woman showed no signs of the zombie plague after several minutes had passed.
Sure enough, it was not long before a dozen men came stalking to the cage. They were wielding those wicked batons. However, they had simply not prepared themselves for a handful of women who knew that they were about to die, along with a trio that had nothing to lose.
The men were ambushed. Gemma and Chaaya both had the same idea; flee. They bolted past the chaotic melee that had erupted, made worse when the men saw the black tracers in the eyes of their victims-turned-attackers.
Gemma, Chaaya, and the other woman ran as fast as they could. The fort was massive, and Gemma had been a little surprised to discover that there were less than fifty men total within it walls.
She only knew of one possible escape route. A stone staircase kitty-corner across the immense open square from where their cage sat would lead up to the walls. From there, they would have to make a leap of faith into the Thames.
She heard yelling and commands for them to stop, but the three women led by Gemma only ran that much faster; each one knowing that the slightest misstep would seal their fate.
They reached the top of the rampart and actually had to follow it another twenty or so yards before they arrived at a spot where they could jump and have the best chance of landing in the water.
Gemma landed with a splash.
***
Chad yanked the axe free and glanced over at his daughter. Ronni was carrying an armload of branches over to add to the pile. He could hear the sound of a saw working back and forth in rhythmic fashion.
It had been nearly a decade since he had packed up and left Dustin Miller and his compound. It had been bittersweet, but in the end, Dustin understood. Chad had simply lost faith in people. The only thing in his life that had any meaning was his daughter. And while he could not give her a “normal” life, he could give her a peaceful one.
His experience ever since the nightmare of the dead coming back and feeding on the living had been that the zombies were the least of their problems. People were lousy when there was no deterrent to whatever whim struck their fancy.
He and his daughter had headed north. After almost a year on the move, they came to an area in the foothills on the eastern side of Mount Shasta. The sign above the entrance to the empty parking lot read: Spinner Fall Lodge.
They had ventured in and discovered the place empty. It had also been thoroughly cleaned out. To Chad, considering the remoteness of the location, he had to figure that somebody was either very nearby, or had been.
His guess proved correct.
He and Ronni had decided that the place was large and sturdy enough to act as a place to set up camp and at least catch their breath and rest their feet for a while. Plus, the nearby stream was visibly teaming with fish. It took less than an hour for Chad to hook a half dozen very large trout.
They were cooking the fish over a fire when a voice called out, “Coming out of the woods!”
Chad and Ronni looked up to see a figure with a cap pulled low and a scarf wrapped around the lower half of the face. That, along with the heavy, bulky clothing, made it impossible to determine gender visually. However, the voice clued Chad in right away.
“If this is your place, we didn’t mean anything.” Chad rose to his feet, careful to keep his hands out wide. He stepped over just enough to put his body between the
stranger and his daughter.
“Actually, I have a camp on that island.” The stranger hiked a thumb over her shoulder.
Chad craned his neck and nodded. That island would be a good choice if a person was alone or only with a couple of others. If he had any plans of settling here, that would be an ideal location.
“Still, if we have imposed or trespassed, we will be on our way.” Chad brought his eyes back to the stranger.
“Actually, I’d really like to join you for dinner if I could.” Making a show of being very cautious, the woman brought a small bag off her shoulder and opened it. She produced a handful of blackberries. “I’ll supply dessert.”
Chad had glanced at Ronni. His daughter gave a non-committal shrug. That is how they met Caroline Hardin.
Caroline had been with a group of seven. Together, the group had fortified a small settlement just north of the lodge. They had considered staying in the lodge itself, but they preferred the idea of being away from anyplace that might attract attention—living or otherwise. What they had done instead was to strip the lodge of anything they could use as they built their own little settlement in the woods.
They had fared well until one of them contracted a virus of some sort. It had spread fast with fever and the inability to keep anything in or down. Two died quick, but the others lingered. At some point, Caroline had slipped out of consciousness. She awoke having no idea how much time had passed. She was also the only one to survive.
Not wanting to venture from a location that had seen so little traffic of the undead, much less the living, Caroline had decided that she would make camp on the island. She had been slowly bringing what she needed from her old camp when Chad and Ronni arrived.
They had stayed in the area for years. With it only being the three of them, Chad had agreed that the island would be the best place for them to settle. Then a drought hit, and with it, the land became a tinderbox waiting for that one spark. It came in the form of lighting. The wildfires raged in the hills and Chad made the decision for them to move. Taking what they could salvage, the trio moved on.
