Chapter Six

“Be careful what you wish for.”  People told me that all the time.  I loved the simplicity of an introverted life, having only to deal with a handful of people.  Time spent alone was a rarity that I cherished.  Soon I found myself doing things in a rush, pushing things aside just so I could have some time to sit and breathe and do something for myself, which turned out to be a lot of nothing.  Even then, it made me feel empty.  But this was the ultimate aloneness.  I’d gotten exactly as I’d wished, but it didn’t turn out how I expected. 

Each person I met during my travels for the next two months felt just the same as I did.  We’d become “friends” and try to survive together.  The same thing always happened.  We would get to know each other and then somewhere around the second or third week, the person would talk mostly about themselves, through me, forgetting I was there.  They would take their share of rations, then part of mine.  I sacrificed nourishment for the company for a time, until the insults came and then I would leave.  After enough people had blown through my life, I noticed a pattern, especially with those with whom I’d had a lot in common.  Each insult was somehow related to their own insecurities, almost as though they thought I shared their worst qualities just because we shared a variety of other traits.  I should have caught that when a 200-pound woman called me a “fat bitch.”

After my bicycle-ride down the highway, nothing was the same.  I left a piece of me among the wreckage of my home.  My family, presumably, was gone.  So was every friend, ex, and teacher I’ve ever known.  In response, I guess I rapidly adapted.  I learned how to not feel and became deader than the corpses that devoured each other outside of every temporary residence.  There would be no more dreams.  No more calls for romance.  No more scantily clad teenage girls drinking directly from a bottle of whiskey in order to feel desired by any putts who’d give them a one-over.  No more bad presidents.  No more gangs or silly text messages…

Colors faded to grey.  No more dreaming of the dead as if death was undone.

That night, I found a secluded barn a couple of miles off the highway.  No danger presented itself but the darkness.  However, as that darkness hid threats from me, it cradled me away from them, too.  I moved hesitantly, my vision blurred by my emotional episode from earlier.  As I reached the safety of the barn, I suddenly became paranoid and burst through its doors.

In front of me stood an elderly man, gripping a pitchfork in his left hand. 

“Shut that,” he insisted, grabbing me and pulling me inside.  “When I saw you coming, I unchained the door.  What the hell are you doing outside in this mess?”  He glanced over me, raising his eyebrows as he stopped at the shreds of my shirt.  I held my arms over my chest as he finally caught a glimpse of the bite on my arm.  His jaw fell and his grip on the pitchfork tightened just as I collapsed at his feet.

Throughout the next 24 hours, I may as well have been comatose.  The man could have easily killed me, but instead chose to give me a chance. 

“If we can survive massive amounts of toxins in the air, why shouldn’t some people be able to survive bites?  Can’t say the same about the last young man who came here, but you seem to be doing just fine,” he spoke, staring at me as I fought to fully open my eyes.  “I’m Aberman,” he introduced himself.

“Aberman?” I asked, not quite in a state of mind to contribute much more to the conversation.  I lifted my head off of a straw makeshift pillow.

“Aberman.  Not really, but the way I figure it, the faster we cut ourselves away from our old lives, the better.  If that means having what psychologists call multiple personalities, well, so be it.  Eventually, they’ll become just as real as we are now.”

“So who’s the real Aberman?” I inquired.

“Someone I met, but never quite got to know.  Not a very friendly man, but I hear he had a heart of gold,” he smiled.  I could tell the guise was a work in progress.

I sat up and leaned against a splintery red wall.

“Do your best to be quiet,” Aberman suggested urgently, “they’re busy outside this morning.  By the time I found this farm, there were no animals left on it.”

“What have you been eating, then?”

He laughed.  “It’s a farm.  These people believed in variety, God bless them.”

“Do you know where the rock near us hit?” The words slipped my mouth before I thought about them.  My monotone frightened me slightly.

“About ten miles from here.  This whole damn place should be blown up, but I guess God spared us that one thing.”

“Have you seen it?” I looked at him, studying his features.  He was not quite as old as I’d first assumed.  I wondered if the passing weeks caused me to look any older.

“No, but the young man who was here before you did.  Just this… Enormous hole.  Fragments everywhere, burnt up buildings.  His brother walked there out of curiosity - alone, as his brother felt something wrong about it.  And he was right.  From a distance, he saw his brother convulse and turn.  Lights out.  Then, from behind, he was bitten.  Like you, he found his way here,” Aberman’s expression hardened. 

“So we’re only immune to a point.  We could all turn any minute,” I croaked.

“Seems that way,” he replied, stroking an entirely grey beard.

“So what now?” I asked, closing my eyes while failing to imagine something serene.

“Now we wait.  I hate to disappoint you, but life didn’t text massage me to suggest I bring along any board games.”

Out of all the people I’ve lived with since it started, Aberman was the kindest.  He said some crazy things sometimes, but they always made sense.  However, even he couldn’t lift my spirits.  With the icy winter whispering “death” down the back of my neck, I found myself thinking of the gaping hole left in the earth ten miles away.  I had no one, and had so many things to say to people who were probably dead – “I love you” being the hardest, most important, and least often said, simply out of fear.  There were so many things I wanted that I would never have a chance at having again.  Maybe there was a heaven, I figured, and hopefully the waiting line wasn’t too long.  Then again, I thought, Hell would still be an appreciated alternative.  Odds were that I would just wind up forever wandering with a look of desperation on my rotting face while some alien bacteria controlled my brain, but I was ready to end it.  There is only so much numbness a person can take before everything and all possibilities lose their value.

I snuck out during broad daylight while Aberman slept.  After making sure I securely chained up the barn door, I hopped onto my bike and rode in the direction that Aberman pointed toward.  I wasn’t very good on a bicycle and it had been that way since I was a kid.  I used to scream “Born in the U.S.A.” by Bruce Springsteen in my driveway while riding around in circles and would still fall on my face.  I fell so many times, in fact, that I stopped crying as a result of physical pain.  My parents never allowed me to ride on the sidewalks or in the street because although I could ride no handlebars, I had a nasty habit of avoiding wipeouts by smacking into cars instead.  I can’t say I blamed them, but during my time with this bicycle, riding on grass was just a bitch.  Luckily I upgraded my choice of transportation later.

I remember contemplating the decision to kill myself during the entire ride there.  I didn’t see anything worth breathing for, except for Aberman, but eventually I would become a burden to him.  Tears welled up in my eyes, but did not spill.  For years already, I’d imagined the various ways in which I might die, but never had the “courage” to just end the battle myself.  People always made subtle hints about my appearance, my background, and my lifestyle.  Despite my improvement or actual normalcy, I always seemed inadequate.  I would never have a chance to prove anyone who had hurt me wrong.  My own father had abandoned me.  My mother and brother were who knows where.  I missed them.  I missed the few people I could call close to me who were more than likely dead, or at least thought I was.  And so, like before this mess, I figured I was being forgotten about or wished away.

I kept going in the same direction for miles, making slight turns where I thought I needed to.  Where dirt and rocks lay sprayed across the ground and where the smell of charcoal kicked my senses.  When you need to do something, you just find a way.  In this case, my mental GPS was programmed for suicide and I was more determined than I’d ever been.  The trails of blood and broken glass didn’t faze me.  The walking corpses in my way were nothing more than moving obstacles as they gravitated toward me.  Within the hour, I found myself staring at the crater’s edges.

Nearly everything in the area was destroyed, but my tunnel vision was too intense to digest any of it.  The air felt oddly warm, and through some window in my perception of reality, I knew it came from the ground.  I rolled up to the crater’s edge and stared into it at what rock fragments remained.  I could feel a part of myself drying up.

As I stared at the place where all this devastation started, a transformation took place.  My body shook slightly and I began to hallucinate.  Vivid memories appeared before my eyes as I lost total control of my body.  I supposed that this must be what they meant when they said that before you die, your life flashes before your eyes.  Between every two or three memories, a light flashed and I could feel myself drawn toward it.  My legs moved without permission.  Voices began to fill my ears and I could hear Aberman yelling.  My hallucinations grew darker and a rage burned inside of me.  I did not scream; I growled, and through some veil, I could see that the creatures hunting me down were turning away.  I was a member of their own, or so I thought.

The memories sped past my eyes like a movie on fast-forward as my heart began to pound out of my chest.  My respiration came thin and quickly and involuntarily, I whimpered.  It felt like being hit by a brick, but suddenly these feelings just vanished.  Aberman stood on a hilltop nearby, shooting the crap out of anyone who advanced toward me.  My knees locked to the ground and I found myself unable to get up.

“All of my choices belong to someone else,” I said out loud for Aberman to hear, then yelled, “Why can’t I ever make my own?  Why is everything so goddamn hopeless!”

To my embarrassed surprise, Aberman responded while he kept shooting.

“Was it ever completely your choice?  To be born, to die, to be hated or loved?  If something is meant to be, it just happens,” agitation filled his voice, “If you were meant to die, you’d have gotten into an accident or eaten some bad fish!  Us living has a purpose!”

“Don’t throw that religious ‘fate’ bullshit onto me!” I cringed.

“Religious?  I’m agnostic!  What I’m telling you is, if you were meant to be dead, you’d be dead!  You survived the impact zone, for Christ’s sake!  If you’re meant to reunite with the people you love, you will!  They will find you.  And you’ll find your purpose.  I mean, shit, there are positives to this whole thing!  No more taxes, no more shitty jobs, no more waiting in lines.”

“How about surviving, does that mean anything to you?”  I cried out.

“We were all just ‘surviving’ before!  The only difference is that the middle finger has been replaced with a double barrel.  I promise you that if you stop wishing for what you want, you’ll get what you need!  It’ll just happen and whatever choices are made for you will be for the best, even if they suck like hell right now.  The things that fell apart will fall together again, just maybe in different ways.  Until then, dissociate yourself from your past.”

“What?”  My voice cracked.  The resolve to kill myself was breaking.  I stood up to see him more properly.

“Dissociate yourself!  Forget that Amelia exists!  Repress everything, and let whatever comes to you feel new again!  Pretend that this is how you’ve always lived.  Come up with a new damn identity!  No better time than the present to start over!”  He grunted as he got a headshot and reloaded his gun.  Luckily for both of us, the area was sparsely populated.  “What’s your last name?”

“Jetty,” I yelled.

“Well, when you’re ready to let go, you start introducing yourself as Jett!  This girl, she’s got friends and family, but they’ve been mean to her.  She’s forgiving and she can be loving, but she’s got a chip on her shoulder, you see?  She’s strong, physically and emotionally, and not a fool.  She gives second chances only when it’s worth her time and she doesn’t wait for life to happen.  She makes life happen, because she takes it by the throat and tells it to.  And if it doesn’t cooperate, well, fuck it!  She’ll find another way or it’ll just happen because she’s damn good at everything she does and things like that just fall into place.  She watches out for herself, but leads others, even though at heart she’s a lone wolf.  You’ll soon find that this alternate personality attaches to yours and won’t let go, I promise you,” he pleaded.

He couldn’t see the dumb look on my face from far away, but my mouth gaped open.  He sacrificed his life just by going so close to the impact site.  He must have been awake the entire time I was escaping.  This… Golden-hearted idiot cared about my company more than anyone in my life had.  His plan wouldn’t erase my doubts, but could giving life a second shot in a different way really make things work?

His words defeated me.  Every ending marks a new beginning. 

Chapter Five

            The sun is about 150 million kilometers away from Earth.  It takes about eight minutes for its rays to reach the planet.  As far as I’m concerned, the light it brought that morning would have done us all a favor by staying the fuck away.

            The streets swarmed with creatures. We could see the shadows of their organs spilling through apartment windows.  The areas surrounding my town always had a lot of lively children.  The liveliest children I could see now chewed on the remains of a tabby cat, fighting over individual pieces as if in a playground quarrel.

The following two weeks proved to be nothing less than unbelieveable Hell. 

It became quickly apparent that the town had put up a fight.  It wasn’t the overturned cars that gave it away, nor the burning buildings in the distance, but rather, the condition people were in. 

“Hand me the binoculars,” Madeline demanded.  We’d all become short with each other.  Supplies ran low. 

I handed them to her and waited. 

“Ah, shit, look at this guy,” her face wrinkled as she handed the binoculars to me and pointed.  The man she had been looking at wore an old-fashioned ice cream server’s uniform.  Every part of him appeared perfectly intact.  His chest, however, was ripped wide open to reveal his still, unbeating heart.

“This isn’t even possible,” I breathed.

“Well, it must be, because it’s happening,” Cadence solemnly spoke, her face pale.

“You wanted to study science.  Do you have a theory?”  Madeline glared at me.

“Hosts.  There are… I don’t remember, bacteria that infect ants and take control of their bodies.  Maybe something more evolved was on what hit us.”

“Does that explain why they eat people?” Madeline hissed.

“To ensure they spread and for energy.  Notice they try not to bite anywhere other than the midsection.  Spreads through the blood to the brain quicker that way,” Paul suggested.

Madeline squinted and held the binoculars up to her face.

“Tell that to the poor schmuck who’s missing his ear.”

Cadence picked at the edge of a magnet on her fridge.

“We need supplies,” she said, not looking up or ceasing the picking.

“Toilet paper is negotiable. You have plenty of other paper around here,” someone suggested.

“As of tonight we have no water,” Madeline explained.

“So, whose neck?” Paul asked, raising both eyebrows.

“No balls, no glory,” she countered, sensing that her explanation appeared a request for permission.

The conversation from there is a blur.  I walked into the adjoining room, not wanting to be near people.  Day in and day out, we ate the same things.  We had not showered.  Madeline refused to remove her smudged makeup.  She liked to think she was a warrior.  I sensed that even before the disaster, she was alone.  I rested my aching head on Cadence’s sofa, listening to the racket of the dead beating my thoughts away outside the boarded window six feet behind my head.

The following morning, I woke up in the room with Cadence and Madeline there resting.  I got up to search the apartment for the guys.  Only us.

Returning to the living room, I shook Madeline awake angrily.  We had no lookout while we were sleeping.

“Where are Paul and Adrien?” I choked out.

“On a raid.  They didn’t want to attract attention, so they went out alone.  And someone has to take care of Cadence,” she replied sleepily.

“What makes you think I’m incapable of doing that?”

“Oh, I never meant that… I just…”

I walked away before she could finish her sentence. 

Nobody arrived for five endless hours.  They announced themselves by blowing an air horn.  Idiots.

They did not just bring back water, toilet paper, and food.  They also brought weapons.  And a young redheaded man.

“Hi,” he stuck out his hand at me and smiled, “my name is Eugene.”

He fucking smiled.

We helped them in before anyone could catch notice.

“We found this bastard wandering around the supermarket the same time we were.  He’d been living in the backroom in a locked compartment.  Smart idea. Nearly shot us,” said Adrien, clapping him on the back.

 “If it’s all right, I’d much rather stay here.  Safety in numbers, right?”  He beamed.  I wondered how much tooth whitener Pretty Boy had stolen while in the hole.

My brain could not process his attitude.  Something told me that somehow, the entire situation left him unaffected.

About a week later, what few supplies the guys had brought back had run out.  To put it bluntly, we sucked at rationing.  While I followed my portion table, Eugene, Madeline, and Adrien took more than they were allotted.  It seemed to me that Cadence was living on leftover pregnancy vitamins and she kept to herself for the most part; a silent boss.  The three men in the group had decided to go on another raid.  At night.

“Best time of day, right?  Under cover,” Eugene supposed.  The idea clearly originated from him. 

“You also can’t see what’s coming at you,” Cadence responded, venom permeating her voice.

“We’ve got guns now.  We’ll be safe,” Adrien smiled.  Eugene affected him especially.  He seemed to only depress Paul the more time passed.

“Safe?  Never safe.  Only safer.  If you don’t manage to shoot your own eyes out,” Madeline snarled.

Nevertheless, we watched our men go, helplessly hoping for the best.

“We’re going to leave this door open.  We’ll only be down a few blocks, but it could take a couple hours,” Eugene smirked.

“Why are you leaving the door open?”  My eyes bugged out of my head.

“Looks more natural.  Trust me, if you’d been out there, you’d know.  We’ll put some of the carts hanging around in front of it on the fire escape.”

What did you ever know, Eugene?  All you’d ever done is sit inside of a grocery store.

            While they were gone, we checked the cups we’d left outside of the apartment and hanging outside of the unboarded windows.  Empty.  We weren’t sure that the water was drinkable, anyway.

            Unbelieveably, I had already lost track of the days.  My phone was dead and no one had checked anything off on the calendar nailed into Cadence’s kitchen wall.  It felt like December, but I figure it was only early October, four weeks or so after the crash. 

It began to rain and then flurry.  Not ideal conditions for a raid, but then again, at this point it wasn’t exactly as if the weatherman on Channel 5 could rescue us from bad decisions.

            Around 2am, a migraine began to rattle my brain.  They’d been gone for hours.  However, almost as if to compensate for their lack of presence, raucous moans overflowed our senses.  A nearly palpable sense of wrong filled each of us.  We could see it in our eyes when we looked at each other and hear it in the lack of conversation.

            At 3am, the sky lightened up a little.  At 3:30am, I lost hope that they were coming back.  Nevertheless, I waited by the back door while the other girls paced.

            At 4am, the sound of trashcans falling over exploded in my ears like bombs.  First I saw Paul, then Eugene. 

            “STAY INSIDE AND SHUT THE DOOR!” Paul yelled.

            “We’ll fight them off!” Eugene announced, enthralled.  He jumped up and down in excitement as he reached the obstacle in front of the open doorway.  My body froze and shook.  Suddenly I felt like vomiting.  Preferably all over Eugene’s soulless face. 

            “Don’t listen to him, just get out!” Paul shouted. 

            They clambored over the carts they’d left in front of the door, barely making it before six perfectly intact zombies jogged behind them.  They had friends dragging behind.

            It perplexed me then how some of these creatures could move so quickly and how others crawled, despite their condition.  Maybe it had something to do with infection levels.  I have never found out.  Either way, nothing was concrete.  This clearly was not like any movie by George Romero. What other rules did not apply?

            Eugene stood in front of the door like a boulder.   With some difficulty, Paul shoved him out of the way and snapped the door shut, hoping to exit through the front.  They began scuffling as Eugene fought to reopen the door. In the living room, Madeline screamed.  Hands flew through the boards covering our windows.

            “There’s no other way out!” Cadence cried out.

            “Where’s Adrien? Adrien!” I could hear myself screaming words of panic, but they didn’t sound like they came from me.  Everything became distant.

            “We have to get out before we get blocked in!” Madeline shouted.  Paul and Eugene had already brought their fight to the floor.  Blood spattered the linoleum as Eugene landed his knuckles into Paul’s jaw.

            “We’re on the same side, stop it!” I yelled.

            Madeline rushed toward Cadence and me and yanked us toward the front door, leaving Paul and Eugene to themselves. 

“How are we going to make it?  They’re everywhere!” I yelled.  In the background, I could hear Paul yelling Adrien’s name.  I never found out if he saw Adrien outside or if his shouting was in the same spirit of panic as mine.  As I looked back to the kitchen, I saw Eugene resting with his back against the lower cabinets, staring at Paul, unexpectedly defeated.

“Just go! GO! There’s more!” Paul screamed.

I peered through the curtains next to the front door.  Everyone in the area gravitated toward our apartment.

Paul busted open the front door and scattered the zombies long enough for Cadence to make it out.  As soon as she exited, the creatures began filtering into the apartment.  We had no way to ram the zombies out of our way, no weapons. 

By the time we reached the back door, it was plain it would be no cakewalk to escape.  Madeline and I stormed through two groups of creatures on the fire escape with two carriages each.  She abandoned her defense weapon when a zombie jumped on the carriages and tried to attack her.  I’m not sure what happened to her after that.  Eugene’s agonized screaming upstairs electrified my senses and on the second level, I realized I had to jump ship.  There was a dumpster nearby.  Ten feet too far away.

Instead, I did the next best thing.  I rammed a cart through a window and flung myself in after it, scraping myself along the way.  Standing up, I found myself in a cluttered living room.  What appeared to be a young couple flung themselves toward me and tore at my clothes as I struggled to loosen myself.  Instead of taking off my shirt so I could flee, I chose instead to let them tear it to shreds trying to grab me, revealing my pink leopard print bra.  As I thought I’d just narrowly escaped, the woman grabbed me by the hair.  The man just began to sink his teeth into my upper arm as I yanked myself away.  Remnants of that fistful of hair stayed in her hand, and instantly I could feel the hot trickle of blood running down the back of my head.

I did not have time to access my wounds then, although of course, I panicked.  I’d seen other people bitten.  Others who survived the initial impact.  Even they were not immune to direct contact.

For once in my life, I got lucky.

It took me a moment to find the lock mechanism on the front door.  It was placed differently than Cadence’s and had an unexpected bolt positioned by the top of the frame.  Like lightning, I sprinted out of that apartment onto an empty platform.  Unsure of where the exit was, I headed toward the stairs and ran down three steps at a time, jumping like a crazed dancer, balance coming naturally.  The shadow of an EXIT sign warmly greeted me as I descended.  Passing through the door, I smiled.

            Until I realized the door was next to the fire escape I’d just avoided.

            A bike lay against the wall behind the dumpster. Quickly observing my situation, a string of curses filtered through my mind and it became hard to breathe.  I could taste the vomit rising up my throat and going back down, leaving the acid behind for me to gag on and spit out.  No longer speculating, I hopped onto the bike and pedaled away.  Every corner I took, it seemed like someone was there.  I moved so fast, they barely looked at me.  Naturally, I expected them to lunge at an easy meal.

            Eventually, I left the built up part of town and entered more residential areas.  Seeing the failure of that option walking the streets by smoking cars, I doubled back, only to see that there were, in fact, groups of creatures that decided to follow me.  Luckily, I did not get boxed in, and made my way back around a different way.  It was difficult, however.  I trekked in unfamiliar territory.

            As daylight broke, I’d just come upon the highway.  It was clear to me then that I would never survive where I had been staying.  For a group of small towns, I did not realize how heavily populated we were.  I took a deep breath and turned the handlebars.

            A fourth the way down my trip on the highway, I stopped.  Except for a few empty cars and some walkers here and there, the highway was deserted.  Rolling the bike up next to a dark blue Jetta for cover, I inspected my arm.  The man’s teeth had pierced the skin, leaving perfect teeth marks.  Blood smeared my skin and stained my shirt.  It was only then that I remembered it had been snowing earlier and I was cold.  Frustration mounted in me as I turned the keys in the car’s ignition and nothing happened.  I tried again.  Nothing.  Moving along to a red SUV, I tried the keys left in that ignition, too.  Nothing.  They’d all been left running for a month by their undead owners and had run out of gas.  

Resentfully, I sat my numb behind on the bike again and began pedaling.  Half an hour later, tears welled up in my eyes and I couldn’t help but give in to them.  Bleary eyed, I rode nearly thirty miles south until I could not pedal anymore. 

Independence.  It was what I wanted to leave home to college for.  Adventure and new opportunities.  What did I find instead?  Loneliness and the insatiable need to adapt. 

Life.  At the end of the day, it was all conditional.

That was the last time I ever cried.

Chapter Four

            The first night brought a new meaning to sleeping with one eye open.  I’d hoped that Cadence’s cluttered and cozy apartment might be our temporary new home, but from the sounds outside the door, I deducted that our emergency exit would be utilized sooner than anticipated.

            When I was younger, I feared the dark.  Looking back, it was much more than just a literal thing.  It was never the monsters that hid in the emptiness that shook me, but the thought that at the most unpredictable moment the darkness could envelope a soul and swallow a person whole. I’d seen this occur enough by day to know that it happens even easier into the late hours, a stealthy sickness sneaking under the blanket of darkness come to steal you away even whilst others watch.  A cold embrace feels warm when nothing else stands arms wide open.  It becomes tempting, much like a friend.  The black void that filled the people I loved terrified me and although they never tried to gnaw on my jugular, they tore at me in other ways.  Ate away at my heart and scrambled my brain until I just gave up and covered myself with a thin sheet made of synthetic calm and security.  The worst that ever happened to a well thought-out girl like me was to be passed over.  At least I had a defense.  Now I knew monsters were real.  I’d had it all wrong.  The evil in the world finally materialized.  But no polka dotted fabric, real or otherwise, was going to protect me from what had escaped the imagination and become real.

            “If you could live in the perfect world, what would it be like?”  I found myself asking out loud.

            “Hawaii,” Madeline answered promptly, smirking. 

            “No no no no no,” Paul replied, “outer space without a doubt.  No politicians or media allowed.”

            “What about you, Amelia?”  Cadence smiled. 

            “Someplace less boring, but calm and quiet where you can see the stars anywhere, live in the side of a hill if you want, and have the option to board a hovertaxi,” I laughed.  In so many words, I explained the inner workings of my personality that few understood. 

            “Why quiet?”  Adrien stared, his face rock solid even through the darkness. 

            “I like your world,” Paul cut in before I could begin, resting his eyes as he slouched against a cabinet, “Tell us a story.”

            “Promise you won’t laugh?” I sighed.

            “Request denied.”

            “But he’ll keep it to himself… Mostly,” Cadence nudged him with her foot.

            “I’ll tell it to every one of these zombie fuckers I meet.  Go on.”

            “My world isn’t this one.  The one we’re in or the one a week ago.  People ask me all the time, why I look so happy or have so little to say.  The fact is that I’ve always had so little to be happy about.  I’m a good observer; I see things others don’t and need to vent.  People never agree with me, probably because it’s just easier not to think about anything constructive, so I’ve learnt to keep my mouth shut.  I’ve become even more of an observer as a result, haunted by day, each one harder to cope with alone.  But at night I dream about different places, each one desolate or in ruins and each one better than home.  When I wake up, they’re replaced by day dreams to keep me away from the monotony,” I paused, feeling a late-night stupor encouraging babble, “Anyway, in my world there are no politics.  There aren’t gays, races, or under-developed people.  No classifications.  There are just people and that’s all anyone knows.  Because there are no politics, there are no laws but the obvious ones.  No one would judge if I wanted to live in a dome under the sea.  Bio-luminescent plants would guide me on my way home from work instead of barely attached traffic lights.  But they could, too, if they had anything better to show me to, or anything else to commute under but cracked pavement where some self-entitled cop probably spit orders at innocent travelers while it was being constructed.  Everywhere I go, I’m plagued with reminders of uncivil America.  The what-ifs.  And it’s not even just that, so don’t take me too seriously.  Sometimes a utopia comes as simply as not wanting to get off my lazy ass to find the remote.”

            I heard a pair of nervous giggles.

            “So you want to live in Avatar?”   Paul smiled, eyes still shut.  I didn't answer for a moment.  "I agree with you, by the way.  I've had a persona the past few years.  Red-white-and-blue underwear, Busch-lite, pussy-loving BS kind of a thing.  To make up for what people would think of me otherwise.  A goddamn clone, just to feel.  It never worked.  I always admired people like you.  Just never had the strength to not give in."

            A bang on the door.  Silence.

            “Nah.  Just somewhere stimulated by something other than assholes,” I closed my own eyes, too, thinking of nothing but what could never be.  I’d already been surviving, not living, for eighteen years.  He had his demons and I had mine.  However, people like himself were what caused mine in the first place.  Not that I expected him to beg for forgiveness.  The sincerity in his voice told me that if things ever regained normality, he would be different.  Appreciate more.  My attitude was regarded with humility.

            The following morning we all rose about the same time to what sounded like someone kicking pipes inside the complex.  When we checked it out, the cannibals seemed to be commiting suicide by walking under the rails.  Paul summed it up for me.

            “Dumb fucks,” he tutted.

            However, instead of lying decrepit at the bottom floor, one by one they slumped up the stairs or the ramps until they did it again.

            

Chapter Three

“Hey, you! Brunette chick!” A young man yelled.  Did he really even need to give my description?  As far as I could tell, I was the only person moving without a limp in their gait.  Regardless, I unfroze myself to turn out.

            “Get moving!” A Chinese girl a few years older than myself prodded me as she ran by with a group of three other people.  A blonde woman grabbed my arm and tugged me with her.

            “Who are you?” I whispered loudly.

            “In the same position as you.  We’re going back to my apartment to wait things out,” she answered feverishly.

            I couldn’t imagine surviving alone, so I followed them.  The two men led the way, sneaking around corners and using hand signals to tell us if it was safe.  I suppose video games and war movies did have a purpose.

            “Is this it?” One of the men asked.

            “Why are you whispering, man?  They can smell us.  Just get the nails out of the door,” the other man suggested.

            “Yes, this is it,” the blonde replied quickly.  While we were standing in this sketchy looking (but cannibal-free) alleyway breaking into an apartment complex, I tried to gauge her.  The baby bump on her stomach was unmistakeable.  She looked ready to pop.  Maybe her reason for saving me was her motherly instincts kicking in, although I couldn’t have been much more than seven or eight years younger.

            “Hurry up,” I begged, becoming paranoid.  Every shadow was a sign.

            “Agh!” the man at the door shouted, “I got it!”

            We barged in.  I guess at the time, being indoors felt like being part of safety again, even though we didn’t bother to investigate.

            “Where is it!” the second man demanded.  His brown eyes began to bulge.

            “Hate to tell you guys this, but it’s on the top floor,” the blonde pointed to a screen door at the end of the hall, “we’ve got to go through that and climb all the stairs.  Everything is connected, so follow me.”

            “Are you sure you can make it?” the first man asked.

            “Shit,” the Asian girl blabbered, “it’s not like we have a shopping cart to push her in.  Let’s get going.”

            There was a heavy step in the stairway a few floors above us.  A few seconds later, another.

            “What about this door?”

            “Adrien, forget about it!  We don’t even have any nails!”  The Asian pulled the men to the side to let the blonde through.  To my surprise, she could move rapidly. 

            So much was running through my mind as we bolted through the screen door.  I didn’t stop to evaluate how much danger we were in as I thoughtlessly slammed into the gate Adrien had opened afterwards.  I didn’t feel pain or pleasure.  My family was gone and the entire world had gone apeshit.  I was abandoned by the one person left who was supposed to care about me and ironically picked up by complete strangers.  In a past life, I may never have even spoken to these people, but all that mattered now was flight.  I felt numb.  The world appeared to me in shoddy photographs as instincts took over.  I’d seen enough movies to know what these creatures were, but not enough to understand these particular ones and where they came from.

            All I saw was silver and black and people running and fighting for their lives.  The second man, Paul, knocked a zombie over a ledge with a wheel-barrel.  The complex was superficially easy to commute, with stairs and various platforms connecting separate buildings to others, but in the end even the blonde took wrong turns.  I fell behind in my confusion.  Adrien slowed down and smashed an incoming zombie in the face.  He grabbed my hand and tried to pull me forward in an effort to make haste, but in the end his slippery hand let go.  Chivalry doesn’t make way for hazards.

            By the time we made it to the top floor, we could see the outlines to everything in town.  A carnie had forgotten to shut off a ferris wheel several blocks away.  Its eerie light spread upon the ground, revealing what from this distance looked like ants.  The world wasn’t so empty suddenly, but it was hard to tell who was who.  My mind was finally sling-shotted back to the present by the group yelling.  A creature had taken ahold of the Asian girl.  It was nearly impossible to witness, however; rain brimmed over my eyelids and blinded me.  This was my worst nightmare.  This complex could somehow afford gigantic sheets of metal and only so many lights.  Typical.

            Thankfully the residents of this complex were careless; left set aside was a shovel alongside several black bags of garbage.  Completely to my surprise I snatched it and sprinted as fast as I could run.  The next few moments blurred.  After what felt like one astonishing second, I reached the group.  The shovel plowed right into the zombie’s head before I could even think about it.  He went down.

            “Thank you so much,” she cried.  The terror on her face made me cry, too.  I could tell that Madeline, whose name I learned later that night, was tough, yet breaking.

            As for me, shovels ordinarily made me cringe unless someone else mustered the strength to pick them up.  Luck prevented me from missing and hitting her instead, I convinced myself.  It was this quick decision that caused my identity crisis to truly begin.

            Soon later we reached the blonde’s apartment.  It stood on the edge of the right side of the complex and had windows on three sides, yet nothing looked disturbed.  We entered through a screen door and then a chipping blue wooden door after everything had been frantically unlocked.  The blonde made sure the front was secure while the rest of us checked rooms for people and windows.  We needed to shut, lock, and draw closed the shades to most of them.  The remnants of light quickly disappeared.  Paul whipped out his cell phone.  The power to this side of the building was dead.

            “Does it work?” Madeline asked, her voice still unsteady.

            “I can try,” he began punching in a number.  We could see him shaking his head before the phone’s monitor fell dark.

            “Do you have candles?” I asked the blonde, suddenly feeling shy.

            “I have a lot of them in my bathroom and bedroom.  Lighters are in the left kitchen drawer.  You can help me get candles, come on,” she tried to smile.

            At some point in following her, my eyes adjusted to the dark.  She could have really benefited from asking someone to clean for her, I thought.

            “Do you live alone?” I asked quietly, attempting to make conversation.  Back when the world’s greatest truths were football and reality TV, I always asked the right questions but got the impression that I sucked at asking them in the right ways.  Or more likely, the people surrounding me were just shallow.   I could never deduce who was wrong and tended to think in favor of someone else.

            “Yeeaahh,” she sighed, “Sorry for the mess.  I’d clean, but my sisters have been on vacation and I was getting ready to move.  No friends around here.  The baby’s daddy wants nothing to do with me.  But I don’t mind,” she laughed.  My silence implied a question.  She seemed so happy.  “It’s from a donor,” she said.

            “Oh,” I tried to manage a smile.  I didn’t know what else to say until a few moments later as we collected scented candles from her bottom drawer.  “How far along are you?”

            “Seven months,” her voice glowed.  Fire contrasted in her deep blue eyes as she lit a candle to help us see.  In her happiness, however, I sensed great sadness.  And not just at the fact that we were sitting ducks waiting to be mauled.  I once read that prisons were the safest place to be during a zombie breakout…

            “Whatever this is is airborne,” she seemed to sense my thoughts, “Nowhere is safe.  The only difference between here and anywhere else is that I’ve got a ton of extra food.”

            She winked and I smiled.  She turned her back to me to grab something under her bed.  It was an extra flashlight.  As she turned it on, I realized how extraordinarily plain her bedroom was in comparison to the rest of her apartment.  She ignored my blatant curiousity this time as my eyebrows raised.

            “I’ve always worried about disasters and things like this happening.  It always does, when you least expect it.  Usually it’s some kind of flu, but sometimes worse.  I stocked up when the government started talking about the bird flu a few months ago.”

            My face turned grave.  My school had nearly shut down because of that hype.  I suspected it was another scheme to stimulate the economy by freaking people out.  If that was in fact the government’s goal, they failed; who needs some vaccine that might paralyze you when you can barely pay room and board or your water bill?

            “So what do you think it is?”  I asked quietly. 

            We heard the other three tearing furniture apart in the other room so that they could board up doors and windows.  Madeline talked about leaving one door clear in case we needed a quick exit.  The boys protested until they finally agreed to use a window as our escape plan instead.

            “I don’t know,” she sighed, eyes fluttering from me to the noise, “something from whatever hit us.”

            At that time, a theory slowly shaped in my head, but by the time I was close to reaching the correct answer my thoughts carried on to anything else.  Science once laid in consideration for my future career path, yet in panic I grew steadily incapable of reasoning.

            “What’s your name?  I didn’t catch it,” I questioned her as we made our way to the living room.

            “Cadence,” she replied, turning one cheek and speeding up her pace.

           

            Once we finished working, we silently convened on the kitchen floor, the corner of the apartment closest to the fire escape and farthest from the front door.

            “Do we have water?”  Paul asked sleepily.

            “The tub and sink are full of it,” Madeline answered.  At first I felt disgusted, concerned about the fact that some people peed in the shower.  Best case scenario, Cadence had cleaned her bathroom sometime in the past few months, before she swelled up to the size of a blimp.  Then I remembered I had no choice if I wanted to survive.  I’d never been animalistic.  Well, fuck.  But I wasn’t about to complain.  If the power went out everywhere, even remotely clean water would become a hard find very soon as all services failed.  Filling up every available container with it seemed obvious.

            “What now?”  I spoke up.

            “Is anyone hungry?”  Cadence asked.

            The whole room sighed with relief as she pointed to the cabinet behind Paul.  There’s nothing like chicken noodle soup - warm or cold (as we had it) - to soothe the soul.  We were prepared and properly supplied to drown in it.

            The monsters scratching at the door, however, could not pretend to be so equally satiated.

           

Chapter Two

“Should we go back?” I asked, not needing to look at the reflection on the glass to my left to understand the true volume of my gaping eyes.

“Kid, are you crazy? Ain’t no one goin’ back,” a tall, scrawny man decided for us as he lit a cigarette with two shaking hands, after already trying once and dropping it.

“We have family back there,” my father pleaded, already facing the exit.

“So do we!” A large black woman countered, raising bushy eyebrows. Her death-grip on the bench gave away her waning self-control.

“You did, you mean,” someone in the crowd said. People scowled in his direction, but I was too exhausted to look.

“It’s been a few hours,” the black woman spoke up, scanning everyone’s faces briefly, “My name is Rita. Now, I’m hoping we won’t have to stick together long enough to all get introduced, but maybe things have changed out there.”

“The only thing changed is that it’s pourin’ out now,” the scrawny man laughed dryly.

“Look, are we going to huddle in here for forever?” Rita straightened up.

Immediately after she finished this sentence something crashed into the station above us, sending dust raining down from the ceiling. The walls of the curvaceous hallway showed us all the different ways flames licked at whatever exploded.

The scrawny man, Abe, rubbed his temples and shook his head, “Not another helicopter…”

There was a brief silence before my conscience exploded.

“What makes everyone so sure that this is safe? We’re being hailed on by helicopters and anything bigger than a large dog wants our asses! They could so easily find us here. Let’s just find someplace else,” I blurted out.

I don’t think I’d ever been glared at so intensely in my entire life. They knew I was right, though.

“We don’t all need to stick together,” Abe broke the quiet, finally aquiescing, “Best pick your poison.”

After the flames outside died down, my father, Abe, Rita and I cautiously exited the subway station. To our surprise, the chaos had apparently ended. There were no sounds other than smoldering buildings and the patter of raindrops. Smoke danced through the air against an unbelieveably colorful sky. So noticeable were these things that we failed to pay attention to what we were actually looking for.

“Oh my god,” I breathed, covering my mouth with a dirty hand. The rain would have felt cleansing if I knew what was in it. If I couldn’t see what was right there in front of me.

At first, I thought the shadows on the ground were illusions caused by fires and rain. Maybe part of a building or some trash cans that got knocked over.

“Is it… them?” asked Abe slowly.

“I think so,” my father answered gravely.

On the pavement, scattered all over the streets surrounding us, were bodies. Men. Women. The elderly. Children. No age group seemed to be excluded.

“Dear God,” Abe cried out, covering his face for a moment with a large tan palm.

“Why is this happening?” I yelled as tears spilled over, “How are we alive and they aren’t?”

“Child,” Rita looked ahead solemnly, “this looks like it could be God’s work. Though why,” she rolled her eyes at Abe, “I don’t know.”

I followed everyone as they dragged themselves to the dead. A feeling of spirituality flooded my system as we walked together; observing the scenery with lost eyes, each of us reverting to dependent juvenilism. We became equals without declaring it, needing one another. It’s something I’ll never forget, short lived though it was.

Abe was the first to break from the group. He bent down to a small blond boy and began checking his vitals despite there being no visible injuries. Rita was next. She stooped beside an elderly woman and started to feel her neck. My father and I just stood there. I’d never seen a dead body before. Not even at a funeral. I couldn’t bear to touch one.

Focused, Abe continued searching for a pulse. It seemed like he was having a hard time. Rita turned her head to us, “I don’t think I can find any-“

Before Rita finished speaking, the woman she tended to rose up and tackled her to the pavement. I ignored her screams as other bodies also began to rise. Abe backed away from the boy confused as he, too, opened his eyes and reached out.

“Run!” My father shouted, raking me forward by the arm.

Initially, Abe just stood there looking around. He tried to make up for lost time running, but even from a block ahead we could hear him choking on air. As my father and I turned the corner we heard him yell. We never heard from him again.

We hid behind a cluster of garbage cans in an alley, watching the creatures sluggishly move forward or attack each other. Humans and canines alike appeared to return to life. Tragically, many filtered into the subway station. Nobody who left did so at a faster pace than a walk. So far it seemed like luck was on our side.

“Do you think they’re zombies?” I asked.

A small group of them knocked over a can behind us, attracting attention from the street. My father bolted ahead of me and I attempted to keep at his heels, wheezing as lactic acid burned in my legs and chest. My father wasn’t in the best shape, but this night certainly made me regret not giving my all in gym class during high school. Maybe I should have visited the treadmill a bit more.

I made my greatest effort to copy his every dodge. Somehow, I couldn’t muster up the adrenaline to keep in line. At half a block behind, I lost my father. Two large groups of creatures emerged from the corners of buildings the street ahead and blocked my path, looking in my direction.

At that moment, you’d expect I was at my worst, but the worst was yet to come. I knew I was going to die.

It just wasn’t the way I expected.

Chapter One

I used to have a normal life.

Simple. Plain. Too plain, maybe. Hardly anyone spoke to me in high school; small town living led to massively destructive rumors that tended to damage my social life. A single hint of a mistake seemed unforgiveable to my peers. Of course, I was fine with that. I operated similarly, judging where judgement appeared to be due (thanks, obviously, to social networking sites). It was naïve. Talking quickly became a burden as people waffled through the short-winded tales of my hopes and dreams onto who hooked up with whom at whose house last night. It amazed me that all our goals based upon Cinderella stories amounted to nothing more than this.


I shoved through classes, maintained a decent GPA, and enrolled at the college of my dreams. With the exception of finances, my obstable course was won. I wasn’t a genius and couldn’t hold on to anyone or anything for more than a month, but in the larger spectrum of things, I realized that none of it probably mattered. What few close bonds I made would slowly fade like the setting sun.


I graduated having experienced and survived worlds more than my classmates. The expectation of what was to be enthralled me. Electricity flowed through my ever-mellow veins.


And so I waited for the first semester of college that would never come.



July 5, 2016



The Event occurred on an ordinary evening in late August three years ago. The air was crisp, cool; a clear sign of the coming autumn. Tiny stars had just begun to break through a thin film of clouds headed east to the Atlantic. I enjoyed these nights and the twilight that accompanied them. It reminded me of how beautiful the line between light and darkness could be.


The scent of pasta sauce filtered through the open window at the back of the house as my mother served everyone heaps of spaghetti. My stomach whined with the greasy food I’d aleady eaten during work. Anyway, for being part Italian, I couldn’t stomach anything tomato flavored no matter how hungry I was.


“How was work?” my father asked half-heartedly, focused on hunting down the largest meatball in the pot.


“Boring,” I replied, removing my nametag and uniform. Only after my hands were washed did I feel scrubbed clean from the unfair prison of minimum wage.


“It’s a nice night to sit out,” my mother announced as she twirled her fork, “But with the neighborhood the way it’s been, I’d rather stay inside.”


The table went silent and stayed that way for a long time until one by one me, my brother, and my parents filtered away from the kitchen into our own separate rooms in the apartment. What she’d said was true; our neighborhood fronted as a clean, close-knit community. In reality, the close proximity seemed to fuel a fire, making everyone’s blood boil. It didn’t always used to be that way. The neighborhood we’d lived in for nearly eighteen years, my entire life, had just suddenly crumbled.


“I’m gonna go grab some milk at the store, want anything?” My mother asked me as she opened the outside door.


“Nah, thanks,” I lied. I remember craving brownies at the time. My father didn’t answer as he sat alone in his bedroom watching TV.


“Want some company?” My brother offered. He already knew she would say yes after a certain degree of surprise, of course.


I watched from the bathroom window as they pulled out of the driveway in my mom’s bright red Jeep. A sense of guilt pervaded my system. It had always seemed to me that our family was more broken than the average one. Then again, my friends never talked about theirs badly, which I guessed was probably a disguise. What family is ever normal? Still, I wished that I hadn’t made money such a huge deal. Our family was poor, living in an upperclass town. It seemed that other people lived in a sort of Waterworld full of adventure and successes, while to me it felt like I lived in no less than a fishbowl. It stressed me out and made me moody.


Just as I’d begun to fantasize about the rest of my life again, worrying about the things I’d packed for college, a blinding light flashed above. My father yelled in his bedroom, shocked back to the real world by the sudden cameo of what he momentarily thought was daylight. An enormous boom erupted, followed by more light and a great cloud of smoke. I ducked underneath the window’s ledge just as a blast of dusty wind imploded the screen in. My father’s bedroom door slammed open as I crouched on the floor, hands covering my head, waiting for it to pass.


“Amelia!” he shouted, trying to cover his eyes and find me at the same time. I tried to open my mouth in response, but each time I did my tongue became coated with dirt, choking my words. Instead I reached out, grabbing him by the arm. Not knowing what to do, I frantically rushed outside with him. Looking back, I doubt it was the smartest thing to do.


We turned our backs to the dying wind as little segments of dirt cut our skin. If my eyes weren’t closed so tight, I would have noticed the odd swirling green and red colors the sky had now adopted. As the wind ceased, we turned around to face the impact. We could not see where it happened, just that everything was thickly sheeted in dust. Looking around, it sprinkled through the air like snow. I raised my T-shirt over my face, listening to the wail of sirens in the distance and the cracking of buildings and trees. An entire wall on the second floor of my building had collapsed. The neighborhood was at first in silence and then people started filtering out of their houses, dazed. Most of them looked like they had been in bed.


“What the hell was that!” our neighbor yelled, “Was that a fuckin’ bomb?”


We just stared, confused. The closest city was Boston. Who would bomb our small town? I doubt we’d even survive that.


Above, the rain pipe creaked ominously.


“Dad, get out of the way!” I shouted, tugging him down the porch with me as the gutter crashed right where he was just standing.


Helicopter blades swirled above, surveying the damage. People in the neighborhood cried out to it, hoping for a quick rescue or even just an explanation. Lights flashed everywhere in the sky as a whole arsenal of them seemed to arrive. The first helicopter lowered and a man began speaking, but he was difficult to hear.


“… Meteorite crash. All residents are advised to stay indoors until further notice.”


What happened from there is a blur. I remember the next door neighbor frothing at the mouth and the sound of rabid dogs howling at our heels. We ran. Through all the screams and puddles of blood, the remnants of animals attacking each other. I remember my face and fingers being sliced by cattail and other swamp plants as we fleed like gazelle in a lion’s territory.


“Where are we going?” My dad shouted through broken breaths.


“I don’t know,” I choked out. The look in his eyes was just the same as mine. We were scared shitless for the rest of our family, but had to concentrate on ourselves.


We crossed three towns that night, just running, attracting other survivors and encountering similar chaos. At times we hid in barns, speculating what was going on, sharing what we’d all seen. We all agreed that a meteorite had struck the earth somewhere, but we all had different ideas where, leading some to believe that there was more than one. Someone heard on the radio that entire cities had been wiped out. A more terrifying concensus was also made: anyone bitten by the infected started to act crazy and sometimes, didn’t need to be bitten at all. Any one of us could kill the other at any time with hardly a moments notice. Given those odds, who knows if we were better off alone.


When our legs became too tired, we made our way to an abandoned subway station and hoped for the best.