Revenants

by Lee Elisabeth

  We needed to be sure.

  Or, maybe we just needed something to fill our time.

  So, that’s what we’re doing; busying ourselves on a long shot. I’ve been praying...a lot. More than I ever have before. Of course, I’ve never been in this much trouble before, or this lost, so I guess I’ve never needed God as much as I do right now. Daniel’s faith has all but vanished. He doesn’t understand how a sovereign being could allow something like this to happen to His chosen subjects. I argue this is no different than wars, plagues, or any other man-made disaster, but he disagrees. I stop trying to reason with him.

  I’ll just have to pray enough for the both of us.

  The entire population of Everly appears to have died or vanished during the past 40 days. I haven’t seen any evidence of life since we left the house, and the town I grew up in is just a sad reminder of what it used to be. Everything is either vandalized, burnt, or destroyed. The high school I attended is nearly unrecognizable as we drive past it. Its parking lot is filled with cars and bodies, and the glass in the main doors to the building are shattered. There are three Revs pacing in the paved lot; I’m almost certain I recognize two of them.

  As much as I want to, I can’t tear my eyes away from the houses and buildings that line the streets of Everly. I’ve spent my entire life passing by them, but never gave them a second thought; now they’re all ruined. I take a deep breath and tell myself not to cry. It wouldn’t do any good, anyway.

  We drive fifteen miles, weaving in and out around stalled vehicles, bodies, and other debris, but when we try to merge onto the highway at the edge of town it becomes painfully clear we won’t be going any further in the car. The highway is impassable; what started as a mass exodus in the earlier days of the incident quickly devolved into a snarled traffic jam.

  Unable to drive any further, Daniel cuts the engine and we climb out of the car. We move cautiously at first, but it doesn’t take long to see there’s no one left in the cars.

  Not alive, anyway.

  We search the first several vehicles we come to. Some are empty. Others are filled with bodies...or what used to be bodies...they’ve all been ripped apart. Half-eaten. It’s sickening.

  “They never stood a chance, did they?” I say.

  Daniel exhales slowly. “No, they didn’t.”

  I look up one side of the highway, then down the other. “You don’t usually see both sides of the highway jammed up during an evacuation,” I observe. “Where do you think they were trying to go?”

  “Some people probably thought higher ground was best. Others might have been heading toward Charlotte.” He shrugs. “Who knows?”

  I use the hem of my t-shirt to wipe the sweat from my face. “Guess it doesn’t matter. None of them made it.”

  “Come on,” Daniel says, turning around. “This place is a graveyard.”

  When we get back to the car, Daniel lifts the lid of the trunk and begins dragging out our packs.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “We can’t keep driving,” he explains. “If we want to get to Asheville, we’re going to have to start walking.”

  “Walk?” I look back toward the wreckage of cars. “What? No. Why can’t we just turn around and take the back roads?”

  Daniel looks at me. “Do you know the back roads to Asheville? Because I don’t and last I checked, GPS wasn’t an option anymore.”

  I try to think of a better option, or at least a good reason to convince him his plan is terrible and dangerous, but he’s right. I always took the main road to Asheville when I visited our parents’ new home, and they’ve only lived there a little over a year. Other than those few visits, I’ve never even been to Asheville. Unless you count a 5th grade field trip to the Biltmore House.

  I don’t know any other ways to get there, and the only way I do know resembles an impound lot. I’m still not convinced I want to walk there, though.

  I look at the highway, then back at Daniel. “But…..but we could probably figure it out. Don’t you think?”

  “And we’re nearly out of gas,” he reminds me. “I only had a quarter of a tank when we started.”

  “We can siphon gas from some of these other cars to take with us.”

  Daniel slams the trunk lid shut. “Do you know how to siphon gas without swallowing a ton of it in the process? Because I don’t!”

  “Fine, whatever.”

  So we start walking...taking nothing with us, save the packs on our backs and the small bit of hope that hasn’t yet been extinguished.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chloe

  We’re walking parallel to the highway, just inside the treeline. Yesterday, we walked nearly eight hours, but between stopping for water and pilfering through various stores and gas stations we came across, we didn’t get very far. We sleep in shifts so there’s always a set of eyes open, watching. Luckily the nights are warm, so we don’t get cold, but the ground is painfully hard. Needless to say, we never sleep for long. It’s nearly impossible to, between the ever-present fear of Revs and the countless mosquitoes feasting on our flesh. At the first sign of light each morning, we force ourselves to stand up and start walking again. It’s a never-ending cycle of walk-rest-walk-sleep-walk, but it beats being dead or a Rev, so I try not to complain.

  Daniel said the Revs are less active during the day. So far, that theory has proven to be correct, so we cover as much distance as we can while they’re hidden away, doing whatever it is they do when they’re not walking the hills and valleys of North Carolina.

  A shiver runs up my spine. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to Revs being a real thing; a threat to our continued existence. It still seems so unreal, like I’ll wake up any minute with the nightmare still fresh on my mind, covered in sweat, swearing I’ll never eat tacos again before bed. I keep praying, and hoping Daniel will join in with his own, but so far there’s been no heavenly rescue or revival of his faith. Daniel has convinced himself that God is a myth because He hasn’t shown up and wiped the Revs from the earth. Sometimes at night, in my darkest moments, I wonder if he’s right, but when I wake in the morning to find I survived another 24 hours, I feel guilty and ashamed I ever allowed myself to think such a thing.

  I look down at my shoes. The grass has grown taller over the past few weeks and it tickles my ankles. I’m thinking about cotton candy and root beer floats, when Daniel’s voice, loud in the otherwise quiet afternoon, interrupts my thoughts.

  “Hey, look over there.”

  I glance toward the smoldering ruins of the utility truck he’s pointing at. A crispy shape that looks like it could have been a person sits in the passenger seat.

  I look at the other vehicles nearby. “What do you think happened to it? None of the other cars are burned.”

  “Not sure. It looks like it burned from the inside out, though.”

  I take a last look at the formless mass sitting in the front seat and start walking again, lest I grow so weary I stop moving altogether. We haven’t eaten today. I glance at the nearly empty water canteen in my hand. I have enough left for one hour, two tops. I sigh. Five weeks ago I would have been catching up on the latest celebrity gossip in one of those trashy grocery store tabloids; now, Daniel and I pass the time trying to guess what happened to the dead bodies we come across.

  I could really go for a new distraction.

  It’s been seven days since we abandoned our car at the off-ramp. I’m so tired of walking, and worse, it feels like we’re not much further than we were last week. It’s been more difficult than I expected, especially as we get further away from Everly and closer to the base of the mountains.

  It’s also slow.

  Agonizingly slow.

  We approach a sign for exit 86. Just before it, there’s a sign thanking travelers for visiting Branson County; the words Welcome to Wilco are stenciled in smaller letters below, like an afterthought. I can’t believe it has taken us seven days just to get to Everly’s county line. Granted, Everly
is mostly farmland, so even though it’s small in population, it’s large in territory, but still...I feel like we’ve walked so much farther. I notice a service station sitting at the top of the exit. I motion for Daniel to stop.

  “What?”

  I point to the store. “Let’s check it out.”

  A few minutes later, we’re standing outside the gas station. Daniel signals for me wait while he taps loudly on the glass windows.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Sound seems to attract them,” he says. “I’m trying to see if any Revs are trapped in there before we enter.”

  I nod. “Good call.”

  Nothing stirs inside the store, but he taps on the glass a final time, just to be sure. We wait a few more seconds, then Daniel says, “Come on.”

  We ease our way through the entrance. A wind chime hanging above the door sends a small ripple of sound through the store. We freeze. Once the last of its melody dies away, we separate; Daniel goes to the left and I walk toward the aisles to the right. Unfortunately, there aren’t a lot of items left on the shelves. Most of the store has already been raided, but I snag a few cans of soup and a couple bags of chips and stuff them into my backpack. I notice a sign above aisle 3, advertising water. Please Lord, let there be some bottled water left.

  I nearly step on the woman when I round the corner.

  “Oh!”

  The young woman crouching behind the metal shelving draws further into herself as our eyes lock in the dim light of the store. She appears to be in her mid-twenties, with chestnut-colored hair framing a slender face. Her eyes are the color of sea foam, and she has that freckled yet attractive look of someone who’s spent a lot of time outdoors. A look of irritation passes over her face when she realizes I’ve spotted her, but just as quickly she looks fearful, so maybe I was mistaken about the look of annoyance.

  We stare at each other, saying nothing, until Daniel rushes over, asking, “What is it? Are you okay?”

  I nod at the woman on the floor.

  She holds her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

  Daniel raises an eyebrow. “Why would we hurt you? What’s your name?”

  “Meredith.”

  “Meredith what?”

  “Does it matter?” she asks.

  Daniel shrugs. “Maybe.”

  “Meredith Smith.”

  I hold out my hand to her. Begrudgingly she accepts it. I scan the store as she rises to her feet. “Are you alone?”

  She shakes her head. “No. The men I’m traveling with will be back any second.”

  Her gaze is steady but the corner of her mouth twitches.

  “You’re lying,” Daniel says.

  A tear rolls down her cheek; she quickly wipes it away. “So, what if I am?”

  “But why would you?” I ask.

  She laughs, but it sounds empty and hollow, like a long mountain tunnel. “You don’t have a clue how things work now, do you?”

  “Maybe you can tell us so we’ll understand why you lied to us,” Daniel says.

  She nods. “Okay, but can we eat first? I haven’t eaten in days.”

  A few minutes later, over a shared can of cold potato soup, Meredith tells us she was on her way to Asheville that fateful day in May when everything changed and the dead became hunters and people became the hunted. She quickly realized she wouldn’t get much farther, especially alone. She was low on gas, and even lower on information. Traffic came to a stand-still. People started arguing; fights broke out as tensions grew high. Other drivers climbed out of their cars and started talking to those nearby in hopes of gleaning new information. That’s how she met Phil, Tony, and April. They were in the station wagon beside her. While the four of them were discussing other options, given the hopeless traffic situation, a herd of Meths emerged from the westbound treeline. The four of them ran in the opposite direction, seeking shelter in the woods while the Meths attacked those still on the highway.

  “Meths?” I interrupt, confused.

  She shrugs. “You know...them. Phil called them ‘Meths’ the first time we talked. It just kind of stuck, I guess.”

  “We’ve been calling them Revs...short for Revenants,” Daniel explains.

  She nods, but it’s obvious she doesn’t care. After all, it doesn’t matter what you call them or what someone else calls them. No matter their name, they kill you just the same.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I say. “Please, continue.”

  She does. After the Revs attacked those stranded on the highway, Meredith and her new friends hid in the woods for two days, too scared to move; afraid they might attract unwanted attention. When they finally built up the nerve to come out of hiding, they encountered a different kind of monster.

  Other survivors.

  Meredith takes a sip of the cold soup before continuing. “We had been sleeping at a gas station a few miles from here. Two men showed up out of nowhere...surprised us...they had guns.” She pauses, and takes a deep breath. “They killed Phil and Tony, then they raped April. They shot her, too...after.”

  “Did they...did they hurt you, too?” I ask gently.

  She shakes her head. “No, luckily...or unluckily, depending on how you look at it...Phil woke up before they had a chance to get to me.”

  “So, he wasn’t dead after all?”

  She shakes her head slowly. “No, he was still dead. He just...woke up.”

  “What do you mean, he woke up?” Daniel asks.

  “Just what I said. He was laying there, dead. Then he sat up. But, he was...different.”

  “He was one of them when he woke up, wasn’t he?” I ask.

  She nods.

  “But he hadn’t been bitten? Or scratched?” Daniel asks.

  “No.”

  I try to process this new information, but it contradicts everything the news agencies reported in May, when it all began. “But, how? I thought you didn’t change unless one of them infected you,” I say.

  “I can’t explain it. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  Daniel runs a hand through his hair. “You know, I’ve wondered why some people come back and others don’t, but I never imagined that someone could die from other causes and still come back as a Rev.”

  Meredith cuts her eyes to Daniel. “You’ve noticed not everyone comes back?”

  “Sure. But I can’t figure out why. It’s like the virus picks and chooses who to claim. Do you know anything about it?”

  “Why would I know anything about it?” she asks defensively.

  “Maybe you heard some news we didn’t.”

  She shakes her head. “No. As far as I know, no one knows how it works. Maybe it’s a virus we all carry, and trauma activates it.”

  “How would we all have the same virus?”

  “Maybe it was something in the food or water supply,” I offer.

  “Maybe all those anti-vaxxers were onto something,” Meredith whispers to herself.

  “What?” Daniel asks her.

  An angry flush creeps up her face. “I just meant it could have been transmitted through vaccines. Although, it’s probably unlikely,” she adds quickly.

  Daniel studies her for a moment, but says nothing. A minute later he asks, “So, what happened after your friend woke up?”

  “Don’t know. I ran and didn’t look back. I came across this store earlier today, hoping to find something to eat.” She crosses her arms. “Anyway, now you know why I hid from you. You can’t trust anyone anymore. Especially other survivors.”

  A bitter resentment unfurls deep within me. This disease, or attack, or whatever it is not only robbed us of our loved ones and our lives, it’s stripped away our humanity as well.

  I reach out and take her hand in mine.

  “That’s not true, Meredith,” I tell her. “You can trust us.”

  * * *

  Daniel

  She’s lying.

  Furthermore, I think it’s a huge mista
ke to bring her with us.

  Chloe and I have been doing just fine on our own. We know each other like the back of our hands. We trust each other with our lives. We can predict the other’s thoughts and actions as if they were our own. Now, a complete stranger crosses our path, and Chloe invites her to join us without any knowledge of who she is or where she’s been.

  Either before or since the world ended.

  I’m not surprised. I knew Chloe would ask Meredith to join us, because I know my sister. She has a kind heart, and she’s fiercely loyal to those who have been wronged or hurt.

  Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though. And believe me, I don’t.

  Something is off about Meredith. Her story doesn’t add up. Supposedly, she and three other survivors dodge a highway massacre by running into the woods, but afterward they just stayed there for two days? And, what about all of the other people in the cars? There had to have been thousands. Where did they go when the Revs attacked? Or, am I to believe Meredith and her three friends were the only survivors? It’s statistically impossible. Then, all three of her traveling companions are slaughtered by other survivors, but she escapes because a member of her group reanimates without having been infected by a Rev? That’s not supposed to happen. A Rev bites or scratches you, you die; maybe you come back as a Rev, maybe you don’t. But if you die without being infected, you’re just dead.

  I glance at Meredith. I swear I can almost see her mind racing, trying to figure out her next move. Her back is stick-straight, even under the weight of her backpack, and she doesn’t seem winded at all, even though we’ve been walking for hours under an unforgiving July sun, with little water. For someone who claims to have been without food for several days, she’s in remarkably good condition.

  Chloe’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “So, what did you do ...you know, before?” she asks Meredith.