Judgement

by Eric A. Shelman

  When it finally did, I saw several people slowly look up, wiping the white droplets from their eyes and faces.

  I turned to Georgie. “You alright?”

  “I am. Lilly, Danny?”

  “I feel fine,” said Danny.

  “Me, too,” said Lilly. “Those zombies aren’t, though.”

  The dead had not been there when the ceremony started, but I guess the huge fire and the volume of the ceremony might’ve drawn them. Either way, at the end of it, they weren’t feasting on our friends; they were lying still, face-down in the dirt.

  “I’ll check it out,” I said, getting up. I walked over to the nearest one and knelt beside it. Rolling it onto its back, I studied it.

  Feeling Georgina kneel beside me, I said, “This one’s dead. Just like a corpse. No movement.”

  She reached down to feel for a pulse. A moment later she shook her head. “Not sure why I did that.”

  “They ain’t comin’ back from this,” I said.

  “I knew that.”

  “I know you did.”

  She turned to look at me. “So, this was all it took.”

  “It took everything we did to get here. This was the final step.”

  She looked me deep in the eyes and said, “No, Cole. It’s not. There are one or two remaining, actually.”

  “What are the last steps?” I asked.

  “You already know.”

  Ω

  The return drive to the caves was easier than the way out by far – and for multiple reasons.

  I found an old but well-maintained Lincoln Continental limousine stashed in an attached garage of a house. We were there looking for supplies when I found a stack of faded fliers advertising a car service for high school proms and other events. We got into the garage, and voila.

  Limo, baby. Full tank.

  Once Danny and I washed it down, the black paint shone like a dark mirror, and it had a huge gas tank and a big trunk to carry some extra fuel.

  I knew the road was clear enough to get it through, so I thought it might be a fun little distraction from what was about to happen.

  Minus a nice chauffeur’s cap, I put on my best tee shirt and drove Tala, Georgie, Lilly, Danny, Terry and Roxy back there in style. On her lap, Tala held the ancient text that had started all this crap in the first place.

  We passed by several familiar places, including the cornfield where we had been attacked by unknown aggressors, but whoever they were, they had moved on.

  When we reached the cave, we spotted the truck that Qaletaqa had arrived in, still parked off to the side. We’d all been in such a hurry to get the hell out of there, we hadn’t paid it any attention before.

  We inspected it now. It contained far more dynamite than he had attempted to use to kill us. We brought as much as we could up with us.

  The dead we left wandering inside the cave had apparently made their way out somehow. Only a few lifeless bodies remained, all with wide open, empty eye sockets, their bodies shriveling and mummifying, the black goo that once filled them congealed and tar-like.

  We made our way into the lower cavern again. I said I would check the ceremonial pool for bodies before Terry and Roxy got in.

  I ended up dragging three emaciated bodies out, depositing them on the rocky edge. All long and well dead.

  The water was warm, as it had been during our ceremony. It was February now, and still very cold out. This cave was an anomaly.

  Tala performed her ceremony, repeating the chants that had saved us all. The black rain once more fell upon the pool and its occupants, and when it was over, both felt changed.

  They could not know how skinwalkers would react to them, thank God. There were no more of them.

  We set the dynamite at both cave openings, connecting the fuses together to string dozens of sticks together, stretching far into the cavern’s interior.

  Running the coil of fuse down the path leading from the cave system, we were close to the vehicles when we lit the fuse, hurried the rest of the way down, and waited.

  When the explosions began, we watched from a good distance as the small mountain imploded on itself.

  I was feeling good, so I jogged back up afterward to make sure the deed was done. I couldn’t even tell where the cave had been, the rubble was so complete.

  The book was no more; Tala had rubbed oil from the torches on the pages and touched the flame to them before we left there for the last time.

  Over the next few months, several things happened. Our group of survivors grew, then dissipated. As the skinwalker scourge died, the other survivors – all with Native American blood in their veins, came out of hiding and learned the truth of what happened.

  A lot of them didn’t believe it, but you know what? It doesn’t matter. They were alive because of their heritage and what a few determined people did.

  Us. Stumbling through the apocalypse looking for answers, and hell if we didn’t find them. Sure, we got lucky.

  A couple of things surprised me and Georgie. And Roxy, I’d guess.

  Tank, as it turns out, took a shinin’ to Terry. The big boy was a bit younger than him, but they clicked like switches, and I was happy to see Terry with a light in his eyes.

  After a tearful goodbye to all of us, both young men took off for southern California. Tank had heard of a place called Laguna Beach, and had always wanted to go there. Terry had actually been there several years before, and he was game for making it their home. Roxy was devastated, but happy for her friend and his new love.

  In the end, Tala returned to the Henomawi Indian Reservation. She didn’t intend to stay there, but she did want to gather up as many historical documents and artifacts from the Henomawi people as possible. They intended to settle down in Texas. El Paso, if I’m not wrong.

  Micky Rode decided to figure out how to get back on the air and provide a soundtrack for the post-apocalyptic world we’d all be working to put right. He needed radio towers and generators, so I suppose we’ll know how he did once we catch his broadcasts again.

  He took a liking to Nina and Gabriel, so I do believe all of ‘em took off together. Weren’t many others left in Lebanon. Most of the ones who ran when that horde came through never came back, and those who stayed died.

  Scooter girl Patsy had taken a shine to Albert, as it turned out. Her sister, Pauly, decided to join the pair in Nacogdoche, Texas. They traded in the scooters for an SUV and disappeared into the sunset. Most of the remaining Nacogdoche tribe decided to stick together. It made sense to me. If you have any kind of community in this new world, keep it together.

  Danny, Lilly, Georgie, Roxy and I headed back down to Florida. That was our community. Before we got too far down into the state, I hopped into a little gator attraction in Tallahassee just to make sure of something.

  When we went inside, we found all the gators were dead. Eye sockets black, just like the skinwalkers. That was the sign I was looking for. No more zombiecrocs, no more zombiegators.

  I did have a soft spot for the creatures, though. I hoped some survived so they could repopulate. They were part of this planet, too.

  Just dwelling on it a little bit got me started thinking about the entire ecosystem of the planet. Seems even the creatures I can’t stand, like mosquitoes, biter flies and whatnot all have a purpose when it comes to keeping nature in balance.

  May I add that the end of this apocalypse came in winter, so I don’t have an answer to how Florida’s going to be without electric power other than generators. When the fuel all goes bad, we might have to head north or west.

  For the moment, we settled in a spot called Ana Maria Island on the Gulf Coast. We still go out regularly to gather bodies and burn them – disease is a real threat because the rats survived the apocalypse. We started by clearing out the buildings and streets around us, then moving out in a radius perimeter.

  Ana Maria is amazing. The water is beautiful, the fishing is fantastic, and we have the place mostly to ourselves.

/>   There are others around, too. We have some scattered neighbors, and some of them are Roxy’s age. That gives Georgie some hope that her daughter might one day give her a grandchild.

  Repopulation will be important.

  In an odd twist of events, Georgie got pregnant six months after we moved. She hadn’t believed it was possible anymore, but I think if we really dug into it, our new longevity might have something to do with it.

  I suppose the ceremony that gave us a whole bunch more years to walk the earth didn’t just add time – it must have rejuvenated our organs somehow – made us capable of being useful for those years.

  Oddly enough, it wasn’t long after Georgie got with child that Lilly got pregnant, too.

  Already doing our part for the good old U S of A. We’re carrying on with our lives and cooking up some new ones.

  Oh, by the way, Liam decided to stay with Carla Solis in Nacogdoche, with the remnants of their people. He loved the discipline taught by the sparse tribe, and he loved Carla. She promised us she would raise him like he was her own boy.

  We were fine with that. Liam would always be special to us, but he deserved to map out his own destiny. We didn’t know if we’d ever be together again, so our goodbye was tough.

  It was funny, though. He said, “Why are you guys so sad? It’s not like I’m never gonna see you again.”

  We laughed, but that told me the kid didn’t really get it. It wasn’t only possible; it was likely we’d never see him again. He was too young to get that, despite losing his family. Even so, with the change we’d gone through, we’d probably outlive the kid.

  You might wonder why we didn’t take him along. I don’t blame you, so I’ll try to explain.

  He’s a kid with his whole life ahead of him. He hasn’t yet met the guy or girl he’ll end up with someday, and how fair would that be for him to have to watch them grow old and die?

  Georgie, Lilly, Danny and I talked about it a long time. Part of being together is the aging process – so if one half of the couple has some special live-a-helluva-long-time gift, it would be cruel and unfair for the other not to.

  It’s all I got. It was our reasoning.

  Anyway, he crosses my mind a lot.

  Who knows what the future holds? We understand we can’t feel responsible for what happens to the world from here on out. The things we can do is to build our own families, make what friends we can, live simple lives by necessity, and try to create a community of sorts.

  Maybe we can do it better somehow. Not that I had such a bad life before all this started.

  I really do try to look at the bright side; I didn’t have Georgie before that black rain. She’s a doctor, so if I pull any stupid shenanigans, she’ll be able to fix me up.

  So, there we are. I have her now, and she has me. I have a stepdaughter, too, and we’re soon to meet our own daughter or son. We’ve got some good neighbors in my sister and my best friend.

  There won’t be a gender reveal party until our babies are born, but that’s cool. Georgie believes it’s a boy, but she’s got no basis for that except she said she thinks it’s snoring in there – kinda like me.

  Yeah, I’ll miss Baxter’s Airboat Tours & Gator Park, but we’ll build new memories together, all of us.

  Take care, now. Be good to one another.

  Ω

  Author Notes

  Hey, folks. Sure hope you enjoyed the last book in Damon Novak’s trilogy. It was a fun book to write that even held some surprises for me, but I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t relieved to be done with Damon Novak and the entire deception.

  I’m back to writing under my name now, and I hope you don’t hold my side-trip into another identity against me.

  To catch you up, I’ve begun doing a lot of audiobook narrating lately, if you haven’t heard. I enjoy it, and I’ve discovered I’m pretty good at it. I narrate for Thomas A. Watson, James Dean, David A. Simpson and others, and their fans seem to enjoy my work. I appreciate that.

  The narration has cut into my writing a bit, but it’s pretty lucrative, and life is about making hay while the sun shines. But even with the slowdown, with the release of The Camera III: Final Exposure, which I’m working on now, I will have written 25 books, 23 of which are novels.

  I remember the days when I just dreamed of writing a book. I’d say that dream has come true over and over.

  The old adage, The first one is the hardest! is true.

  To those of you who read anything I write, I appreciate you! I hope I don’t let you down. I may have my regrets about certain turns I took in certain storylines, but I’m not one to go back and rewrite history – my history.

  I wrote the shit … I gotta accept it. They are my books and each one is special to me in myriad ways. But if I’m being honest, I’ve never felt closer to anyone I’ve written as I did with Flex, Gem, Hemp, Charlie, Trina, Taylor, Max, Nelson, Dave, Lola, Tony and the rest. It was an epic 10-volume ride that I don’t know I’ll ever be able to duplicate again.

  But that’s okay. There are a thousand stories to tell and a million characters to create. I promise one thing: I will never quit again. And I’ll never become someone else either.

  Thanks to all my Beta Readers: Connie Nealy, Laurie Lane, Denise Keef, Shalon Hyde Thomas, Karen Dziegiel, Nick Wisniewski, and Tammy Sue Hooper-Hubbard! They truly make the difference in my product.

  And a HUGE thanks to my editor, Ramona Martine, who has honed her craft tremendously over the years. ??

  BOOKS BY ERIC A. SHELMAN

  Out of the Darkness: The Story of Mary Ellen Wilson

  Case #1: The Mary Ellen Wilson Files

  A Reason to Kill

  The Witches of Laguna Beach

  Shifting Fears

  The Camera: Bloodthirst

  The Camera II: Alive & Dead in Texas

  The Camera II: Final Exposure

  Scabs: The Gemini Exception

  Scabs II: The Quantum Connection

  Scabs III: Humans, Gods & Monsters

  Dead Hunger: The Flex Sheridan Chronicle

  Dead Hunger II: The Gem Cardoza Chronicle

  Dead Hunger III: The Chatsworth Chronicles

  Dead Hunger IV: Evolution

  Dead Hunger V: The Road to California

  Dead Hunger VI: The Gathering Storm

  Dead Hunger VI.5: The Shelburne Chronicles

  Dead Hunger VII: The Reign of Isis

  Dead Hunger VIII: Peace, Love & Zombies

  Dead Hunger IX: The Cleansing

  Emma’s Rose: The Cave (A Zombie Tale)

  WRITING AS DAMON NOVAK

  Onslaught: The Zombie War Chronicles – Vol. 1

  Convergence: The Zombie War Chronicles – Vol. 2

  Judgement: The Zombie War Chronicles – Vol. 3