Waiting to Die (Book 2): Wasting Away Page 4

  I blubbered like a baby as I pushed the gun farther down my throat.

  I cocked the gun as a convoy of military vehicles emerged from the road above me. I lowered the pistol and looked on in awe as the convoy slowed. People ran from a building across the street, the dead closing in from behind.

  Machine gun fire snapped as soldiers took aim at the creatures. Bodies fell as legs buckled and exploded out bone and flesh. Limbs jerked and twisted as a volley of bullets tore through and rendered them spent.

  “Help,” I whimpered. My voice was drowned out by gunfire.

  As the convoy began to move again, lumbering off over fallen bodies, I rose and waved my arms. I tore through the grass and up onto the road.

  “Hold it, we have another!” the soldier shouted, extending his arm from the back of one of the trucks.

  I leapt and caught his hand and he pulled me in, clasping my arm when I’d gotten close enough. I fell to the floor and whispered hoarsely, “Thank you.”

  “Would you have done it?” she asked. “Would you have killed yourself?”

  “Time changes things,” I said. “Looking back at it now, I wouldn’t have. But at the time, I had run out of options. I don’t think I would have made it if I hadn’t been saved.”

  Mary looked down to her feet. “I thought about it too,” she said. “After my husband left to get help, and didn’t return, I thought about taking my own life.”

  I looked at her through wet eyes. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  She sighed and forced a smile. “It just seemed like the best choice. I didn’t know what else to do. Everything was gone …”

  “That’s exactly where I was at the time,” I said. “With everything the way it was, it felt like the only choice. But now, I’m just numb to the sensation.”

  I sat and stared at the others in the truck. Solemn faces stared out into the void of nothingness in shock or disbelief over what was happening. The occasional rattle of machine guns snapped us back when the soldiers fired at the dead. Each shot was a slap to the face.

  A woman sobbed. A child cried. The truck negotiated over bumps in the road, bumps that I was certain were bodies. I could hear the squishing sound as the tires dragged over their limbs. Each obstacle sent a shiver down my spine when I heard the bones snap and the blood splash out from force.

  As the convoy roared through streets, I saw the dead follow, enraged; driven by some foreign hatred that I had never seen before. With a quick aim and tap of the trigger, a soldier would take care of our pursuer only to have another take its place.

  There was no fear in their eyes as the weapons were drawn, no instinct of survival, just lustful, hungry eyes.

  “Mommy?” A child wailed. “Mommy, mommy…” she repeated.

  I wanted to reach out to her and tell her everything was going to be all right, that this was all just a bad dream. I wondered how much of that was to calm myself, to make my own fears subside. The woman next to her embraced the child, tucking her head into her chest and stroking her hair out of her face.

  “It’s all right,” the woman said. “Everyone’s in heaven now.”

  The woman’s words struck me hard. How could a Heaven let this happen? How could all these people die under divinity? Did she believe in the rapture? Did she believe this was destined?

  The questions played over in my head like a broken record, scratching away at everything I thought I had known. I had never believed in the Church or its fear inspired lectures on right and wrong. But with how bad everything had become, I thought of how these things resembled the tales of demons and monsters that I had grown up with. I thought of the sermons of Preachers and Priests, instilling the concept of sin to a child and the turbulence it caused such a fresh mind. I thought of the sleepless nights growing up, tormented by concepts of Hell and the Reckoning. I thought of my wife and her demon eyes when she had changed.

  The soldiers brought us to a base just outside of town. Fences lined the small compound of tents and generators. A steady hum issued through the darkness, loping with the sound of the truck’s engine. A single light pole stood at the center of it all, sending a buttery soft glow over the encampment.

  We were led to a medical tent. An eerie feeling came over me. It was a feeling of something from another time with its red cross stenciled across the side flaps of canvas.

  I couldn’t bring myself to look at the others. Their tear stained cheeks, the fear in their eyes; it was too much to bear. Someone let out a soft cough as the soldiers opened the tailgate. A whirl of motion played across the camp. Desert camouflage and beige boots knocked out through the early morning air, guiding us into this new station of life.

  We stood in line, waiting to be checked by a staff of white clad doctors and nurses. Some of us were shuffled off to a plastic covered dome at the rear of the encampment while others were escorted to tents lined in cots.

  The terrible faces I saw, stricken in horror and grief and sickness as they were taken from their families and led to the dome. All of them had wounds of some sort. There were small patches of blood-soaked fabric about their shaking bodies. Some of them were children who cried with rattling voices as their parents reached out to stop the soldiers from taking them away. They were pushed back with dull black weapons and leather gloves.

  I kept to myself when we were brought to the sleeping quarters. I tried to drown out the whimpers and moans by staring off at the edge of the tent, cradling myself as I lay there on my cot. Grieving mothers moaned with unanswered questions. Dull voices asked why in somber whispers. Strained cries parted the night.

  In the darkness, I finally drifted off. The pain in my heart grew; an infected wound at the edge of releasing. Through the sobbing, I closed my eyes and tried to wish away the violence and death. I squinted through tears and held myself tighter as the night filtered through the flap in the tent.

  I barely slept that night. I heard the cries of children and smelled the fear in the air culminating with despair and urgency. Every breath, every whisper brought to light the horrors we had seen. But then, as if timed out to the moment when sleep finally remedies grief, the gunfire came.

  “Why were some being led to the dome? What was wrong with them?”

  “I think it was quarantine,” I replied. “They had been bitten and were taken away to keep the rest of us safe.”

  “Do you know what the doctors were doing to them?”

  “No,” I replied. “The dome only allowed a haze of images through the thick plastic.”

  “I can’t imagine what’s going on now,” she said. “I wonder if places like that still exist.”

  “If they do, I’m sure it’s far worse now.”

  A few lonely cracks snapped through the night. At first, I had thought the dead were trying to breach the outer fence. I jumped up from the cot and gazed at all the others who were doing the same. We waited in silence after another ripple of gunfire. Every second became an eternity.

  I looked out through the flap of the tent.

  Machine guns barked out through the cool air, flashes of fire lighting the ends of black barrels. Holes tore through the thick canvas, inches away. I ducked for cover. The dead sounded out with gut wrenching screams. Their voices shook the compound, rattled the cots and made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I cowered beneath my cot as the others in the tent began to flee. Their shoes slapped across the dirt floor, sending up thin wisps of dust in their wake.

  I wanted to close my eyes and make them go away.

  The rattle of weapons came from everywhere as I heard people cry for help through the shots. A scraping emitted from the far side of the tent and pale white hands coursed their way under the flap between the supports. My eyes went wide and I stood as a corpse chewed at the stitching of the canvas and worked its head under. Its eyes were swollen and bulging out through reddened eyelids. I darted past overturned cots and made my way to the entry. Three cadavers glared at me from the outside and lurched forward. I turned in time t
o see the corpse with swollen eyes inch its way under the tent.

  They blocked me from both sides as I stood wavering, unable to make a decision. I knotted up my fists and charged the three corpses at the entrance. Their arms swung out as I tried to pass, but I was able to duck down and break through as their fingers dragged along my back and snagged my shirt. I wiggled out of my over shirt, dropped to the ground, and rolled between their legs.

  I didn’t look back as I fled, keeping low as bullets whizzed through the air above me. Bright orange flashes came from everywhere as the soldiers opened fire on the growing mob. The plastic dome at the rear of the camp surged with bodies and bulged at its sides, threatening to burst. It was hard to tell who was living or dead as I edged my way through the crowd. I heard cries for help as I fled toward the front gate of the compound, but my way became blocked by a horde of surging shadows. The dead were thick, blocking every escape.

  Turning towards the fence at my left, I leapt up on a flatbed truck and across to crates tied down at the sides. As I swung my leg over the fence through a gap in the razor wire, I stared at the chaos. Most of the dead moved quickly, snatching up anything that moved, but some staggered in place as if they were assessing the massacre. I swung my other leg over and my feet dragged against the chain-link as I lowered myself down.

  On the ground, safely on the other side of the fence, I turned in the darkness, trying to gain my bearings. I hadn’t seen much inside the truck when they brought us there and had no idea where I should go. I took off through the night. The lights of the compound filtered away as I ran, leaving only blackness ahead of me. I stumbled over bushes and shrubs that tore at my feet. I was drenched in sweat. What was left of my clothes clung to my skin. Panic drove me further and the screams from the compound fueled my need.

  I heard the crack of thunder in the distance. A cool breeze played at the grass below me. And then it began to rain. A steady drizzle turned into a downpour. The skies opened up. I stood in place, drenched. I looked for a place to hide as lightning snapped in the sky.

  I fell into a ditch and crawled along the side of a drain access beneath the road. The water rushed along the ditch, nearly cresting the banks, soaking my legs. I stayed there for a long time, breathing heavy and nursing away the stale thickness in my mouth. I didn’t know how far I had gone or in what direction I had fled. All that mattered is that I got away.

  Chapter 6

  Through sparse, yellow grass, I walked, letting myself dry in the morning sun. A clearing had opened up along a river basin and I could see a hillside descend in the distance, giving way to pristine, blue skies.

  For a moment, I thought I was alone there. It was as if I had stepped into an existence void of the dead, some place peaceful and quiet where I could rest and let the tension escape me.

  Gunshots snapped me back to reality. Low to the ground, I made my way to the edge of the hillside and gazed down at the scene that was unfolding.

  An old pickup truck sat with its hood open on a lonely dirt road, smoke billowing from the engine compartment. I watched as a man tinkered inside, cursing as he tried to remedy the problem.

  A little farther down the road, I could see the dead. Huddled bodies stumbled to the source of the commotion. Another man stood alongside the truck, aiming a rifle at the encroaching dead, shooting the ones that were getting too close.

  From below the passenger side window, I could see movement. A head poked up for a second, giving me a flash of auburn hair before it quickly darted out of view.

  On the other side of the road, a mass of corpses emerged, nearly entwined as they came out through a small cropping of trees. Their screams of hunger were as loud as if I had been standing right next to them.

  I jumped up from my hiding spot and drew the pistol from my waistband. I charged down the hill and screamed, “Look out!” as I took aim at the dead.

  The man with the rifle turned to my direction and fired. I dropped to the ground and rolled the rest of the way down to the barbed wire fence that separated the hillside from the roadway. In all the commotion, I heard one of the men scream out in pain. From where I was, I could hear the popping sounds as the dead began to feast. I looked up and saw the man that had been working on the engine get pulled to the ground as the other man wrestled with a cadaver, positioning his rifle in between himself and the creature’s snapping teeth.

  I got to my feet in time to watch as one of the dead pulled the child out, kicking and screaming through the open driver’s side window. I shot at the thing and clipped it in the shoulder as it ripped into the child’s neck.

  The child screamed, begging for help. Lured by the pleas, other bodies emerged. The child was swallowed whole, and pulled beneath the truck.

  As I stood, rooted in place by shock, the dead noticed me and were breaking out in a shuffling run.

  I tripped as I turned and crawled a few feet before regaining traction. I made little progress as I scurried up the hillside. I looked back in panic as the dead struggled with the barbed wire. A few were beginning to flip themselves over as I reached the top of the hill.

  Panting, I ran as quickly as I could. The dead were coming across the field I had crossed earlier and were shuffling through, wading in the tall grass. My eyes went wide when I saw them and I could feel my tongue swell from fear. I went the only direction I could, following the crest of the hill, out into a cropping of dense trees.

  Saplings slapped against my skin and pain shot up along my arms as I negotiated through the underbrush. The dead were far enough away that I could have stopped for a moment, but fear forced me onward.

  The forest seemed endless as I ran deeper into its embrace. I tucked the pistol into the small of my back, under my belt, and climbed a pine tree. The sap covered my palms as I pulled myself upward through the branches. Twigs snapped and popped as I gained footing, urging myself to climb as high as I could. Needles poked into my arms and through my pants as I made my way to the top.

  When I was high enough, I waited. I stayed quiet and tried to calm myself and catch my breath. I could hear them rustling through the forest. Before long, they were within a few yards of where I was hiding. They sniffed the air as they twisted their heads, searching for me. I closed my eyes and prayed to whatever god that would listen. I begged to be spared, I pleaded for them not to spot me.

  I held still to the branch, not daring to move a muscle. More of the dead were coming; upturned, decayed faces glanced toward me, looking through me as if I wasn’t there. Dozens came and went, scouring the forest as I tried to slow my breath.

  I was exhausted and bruised. Welts were forming on my arms where the saplings had bitten in. My eyes began to blur from the pain. My hands burned from gripping the branch. My legs cramped, and I thought about letting go.

  As the sounds of the dead drifted away, I thought of what it would be like to fall. I imagined myself tumbling through the branches and landing hard on the ground. I imagined breaking my legs or my spine and being paralyzed as the dead returned to devour me. I thought of all of those things as I closed my eyes and fell back into the waiting arms of the pine.

  It was early in the morning when I finally awoke. My body was stiff and contorted. I was nestled between two branches and my pack was caught on a broken limb. My head pounded from dehydration and my jaw was sore from clenching my teeth through the fear.

  The forest was eerily quiet.

  I slowly dislodged myself from the branches and began lowering myself to the ground. I tried to stay as quiet as possible for fear that they might hear me.

  As dried leaves crackled under my weight, I took to the forest floor and tried to get my bearings. I had been traveling east and looked to the sun for guidance. Rays of light poked through the canopy and I squinted to find its source. After a few minutes, I found the sun and followed it through the woods, hoping to find the grasslands I left behind. I never would have thought that I’d be looking for the urban areas again, but at least there I could get away from
the dead, I could hide and have some sense of safety. In the forest, I felt like a sitting duck.

  “My God, you’ve been through so much,” Mary said.

  I nodded, cleared my throat, and continued.

  There was death everywhere. Bodies lay heaped up along the banks to a small creek that wound its way through the heart of the woods. By the flood marks, it looked as if the river had surged, scattering bodies here and there amongst the trees and underbrush.

  They were nothing but rotten meat and loose clothing now, scraps of dried skin clinging to exposed bone. It was hard to imagine that these husks were once living things. That they too had loved and lived; decidedly cut off from that life when the dead had risen.

  This was the fallout of fragile lives, the blank stare of death that so many succumbed to. They were the casualties of war with the undead. They were like autumn leaves scattered across a battlefield waiting to decompose back into that from which they had come.

  Through dense underbrush, I emerged. Towering buildings came into view in the distance, rising over once trimmed neighborhoods. Some of the landmarks were still in place, but the whole of the city was burned into ruin. It could have been any place in any part of the world, and it might have looked exactly the same way.

  I carefully made my way through brittle suburbia. I passed a playground, overgrown and seemingly misplaced in the wreckage. Weeds and grass jutted from cracks in the sun worn asphalt, clinging to this new life they had been born to.

  I’ve always been amazed at how quickly the blood rinsed away. Of all the life that spilled out onto the ground not a single remnant remained. When I squinted, the scenery almost looked normal, and when I closed my eyes entirely, it faded away into blackness. But, as I looked again, the crumbling world returned. This was the meaning of misery; this hateful progression of rot, working its way out through tepid memories.