Aftershock: A Collection of Survivors Tales (4 page)

The next day I awoke to find the church empty. A few cans of food were left, and my favorite table leg. There was also a hastily scrawled note. All I could make out was “We go north” and some kind of apology at the bottom. I sat pondering the situation and was broken from my reverie by the sound of scrapping outside the front door. I thought nothing of it. It happened frequently. Maybe they could smell me in here or maybe there was some last vestige of humanity left in them that sought the forgiveness and comfort that brought them here in life. Given what I had seen in these last months I guessed it was more toward the former.

I gathered what little there was left of use into an old duffle bag and prepared to head out. I would go west as I had planned. There were several maps in my office, I paused a moment to pray for my friends as they had not taken one with them. I sat at my desk for the last time. Memories of Tuesday nights, writing sermons flooded my head. I would toil away trying to find the voice of the Spirit and in would come Laura with a tray of sandwiches and thermos of coffee. Sometimes there would be a wedge of apple pie if she was in a baking mood. I sat silently weeping and all of the sudden I realized that the scrapping had turned into a pounding. I rose from the desk to check the door and saw through the barricade that several of them had gathered and seemed intent on coming in.

“Service has been cancelled today I’m afraid,” I said lightheartedly to the door. This elicited a long low moan. I stood in the narthex and turned to the open door to the sanctuary. I could see the familiar rows of pews and the altar and my pulpit. I also saw what I had avoided the whole time I was here. A large brown stain on the floor about halfway down the aisle. I relived that day all over again in the span of a moment. My chest grew hot were I had been stabbed. My wrist burned where I had been bitten. Most of all, I felt as though my heart were being pushed through a keyhole in my sternum. All the anguish, all the rage overtook me and I screamed. I screamed loud and long. I tried to let everything out in that one hoarse cry. I do not know if I succeeded in releasing any tension, but I did manage to rile the group outside and the pounding grew even louder. I saw the door begin to shake in its frame. Ignoring this, I moved into the sanctuary and knelt beside what remained of my beloved Laura. I knelt and I prayed. For the first time since that day, I truly spoke to God. I asked for the purpose. Why was I left behind to suffer through this horrible ordeal without Laura, who was ever the stronger of the two of us? I saw in my mind a town. Full of frightened and starving people. The dead walked among them picking them off one by one. I saw a church in this town, similar to my own. The windows and doors were barricaded with lumber and I could hear the cries of children from inside.

“Go Samuel,” a voice told me, “Go and tend my flock.”

All at once I felt the divine fire in my belly. I rose to my feet and thanked God with every ounce of my being. I moved to the back of the church and grabbed my duffle and weapon. I took two steps toward the back door when the front came crashing in. There had to be twenty or thirty of them pouring into the church. My church.

“Get thee behind me Satan!” I screamed. “You shall not defile this holy place with your filth!”

I knew it would take more than invoking the name of the Lord to deal with them so I quickly ran out the back door to the shed. A five-gallon gas can sat gleaming in the sun. I knew at once what I was to do. It seems my original plan had been the right one after all, however with a much different purpose. I dropped my duffle and ran back into the church. I was immediately set upon by a dozen clawing hands. Full of righteous strength, I threw them off and began hurling gasoline throughout the meeting hall. The building was old wood and I knew it would catch without trouble. I hurled the gas can into the sanctuary and made my way back outside. I fumbled in my pocket for the lighter that Laura had given me on our fifteenth anniversary, back when I smoked the occasional cigar. It lit even though I had not filled in many years. Even as it left my hand a tremendous fireball made its way through the hall toward the narthex. I watched briefly as every ghoul in its path was immediately engulfed in flames. I walked slowly to my pack, shouldered it, and headed west.

It was a brief journey, and as uneventful as anything can be nowadays. I had a few run-ins with the walking dead and once, traveling through a small town I was forced to hide in a storm drain as several large vehicles rolled through. They may have been military but I could not be sure. Besides, I had a town to find. And find it I did. And that is how I ended up here before you today. Upon arrival I immediately began the work of rallying those left. We built a crude wall and dispatched any ghoul left within its perimeter. We put out the fires that were burning and condensed our supplies and weaponry. We turned the church into a barracks. We planted a garden using what little produce we had left and we even dug two wells. We maintain a constant vigil at the walls and continue to reinforce them as time and materials permit. We have built for ourselves a semblance of existence here and if it be God’s will we will defend it from any attacker, alive or not.

My dad’s a farmer. Was a farmer. Whatever. I live on a farm. Rocky is my side kick. He’s a 4 year old golden retriever. Good dog for a kid, and great at sniffing out the zombies. He’s all I’ve got left. Me and Rocky, have been kicking butt and staying alive alone for 3 weeks now. It’s hard to be 9 and alone, but I’m not really alone with Rocky.

School got closed, and all us kids were happy as hell. I can say hell now, I’m the man of this house. Anyway, school got closed and I went over to see my best friend Trudy. Trudy wasn’t feeling good, so she was in bed. Her mom lets me go up and check on her. She told me Trudy had been asleep since last night, and hopefully her fever had broken. So I grab my backpack with our favorite Wii game and go running up to Trudy’s room.

I get to her door, and that’s when I hear the moaning. Trudy is making this weird zombie noise. I thought she was feeling better and messing around with me. I opened the door. Trudy rushed me, and bit my arm. I screamed and ran back down the stairs, right out the front door and back home. My mom sees the bite and starts crying.

Dad and her are sitting at the kitchen table talking about what to do when I get sick. I can’t hear much, but it’s whispers and Mom’s crying a lot. Dad put a bandage on my bite, then sends me to bed. I fell asleep real quick that night, cause I was real tired. I had dreams about Trudy all night.

The next morning I woke up fine. Mom comes in with a gun in her hand to check on me. When she sees I’m OK, she hugs me and cries for a really long time. She gets Dad to check on me, and for a few days this was what we did. I’d wake up, Mom would bring a gun in to check on me, then she’d cry. Rocky just slept on the floor watching me. I felt fine, but my parents wouldn’t let me leave my room.

A week goes past and Dad comes in saying I can come out now. Way he figures it, if I was gonna get sick I’d have gotten sick by now. Dad says the town is in bad shape, and we need to be careful when we go outside. My Mom still watched me like I was going to turn into a monster any second. It was really great to be out of bed, even with the looks.

Another week went by, and we all loaded up in the truck. My parents figure we have to get to town, find out what’s going on and get some stuff. They didn’t want to leave me by myself, so Rocky and I had to go for the ride. They told me I had to stay in the truck, and not to talk to anyone. I was in charge of watching the truck.

We get to town and it looks like a bomb went off. Windows are busted. Stuff is everywhere. There were no people. The town is usually pretty busy, so it felt weird. There were a couple of wrecked cars in the streets. The front door to the store was open, and there were boxes laying everywhere. Dad and Mom both looked really worried.

They had a fight about getting out of the truck. Dad says it’s a bad idea. Mom says we need stuff, and maybe we might have to leave the farm. She says we got to get somewhere safe. That’s when she looked back at me. I never saw my Mom that scared. Dad’s just pissed. I can say pissed, I’m the man around here.

Mom wins the fight, and they get out of the truck. Dad tells me to keep watch and to yell if I see anyone. I said I would, I meant it too. I really wanted to keep watch, but there were so many places to watch. So Dad and Mom go into the store, and they come running out with loads of stuff. Food stuff, medicine stuff, and weapon stuff. All the stuff we would need to get out of town.

Then the moaning starts again. I start yelling, but I can’t see where it was coming from. I yell to them to get in the truck. They are coming and I know it! Rocky starts barking like crazy. They come running out of the store, but as Mom gets in her door she got bit. I tried real hard to keep watch, and Mom still got bit. It’s all my fault.

Dad pulls mom into the truck and speeds off. He ran over two or three of the moaning guys as we sped away. He didn’t even look back to see what happened to them. That’s when I knew Dad didn’t see them as people, and if he didn’t neither did I. No one talked on the way home. Mom cried really quietly.

That night Mom slept alone in a locked room. Dad went in and kissed her good night. He said good bye. I didn’t understand why he did that. If I didn’t get sick, she wouldn’t get sick. Mom called me in and kissed me good night. She said she loved me, and would always love me. She said I was her everything, and she was nothing before I was born. She really scared me. She wasn’t going to get sick. I didn’t get sick.

The next morning Mom was sick. She had a bad fever. She got so hot. This wasn’t fair. I didn’t get sick, she shouldn’t have gotten sick. Dad sat with her for the day, and by that evening she had died. I didn’t cry. I was too scared to cry. Dad locked the door and sat down on the hall floor. He wouldn’t talk to me. Rocky followed me around. He just kept putting his head in my hands.

In the middle of the night the moaning started. Mom was scratching at the door to get out. She wanted to bite us. I kept seeing Trudy come after me, then it would be my Mom. I stopped trying to sleep, the dreams were too bad. Dad was still sitting in the hall. Now he had a gun in his hand.

I was so mad. ‘You aren’t going to shoot her, are you?”

Dad didn’t say a word. He just hugged me, and pointed for me to leave. I heard the door open, and then a shot. He had shot her. He shot and killed my Mom. That’s when I cried. I sat down on the floor and cried until I was asleep. I didn’t have any dreams. I just slept.

I woke up the next morning and found Dad outside putting the last of the dirt on my Mom’s grave. I didn’t want to talk this time, but Dad did.

“She wasn’t your Mom anymore. Your Mom was gone.”

“You shot her. You shot Mom. You killed her.”

“No, Max, that thing that bit her killed her. Your Mom was gone. The thing that was left wanted to hurt us. It wanted to hurt you. Your Mom wouldn’t want that.”

That’s all we said. I was so mad at him. I didn’t understand. He killed Mom. I thought she would have gotten better. I didn’t get sick. She could have gotten better. He’s not a doctor. He doesn’t know. I didn’t talk to him for days. I don’t know how many, but it was a long time. He killed my Mom, I didn’t want to talk to him. Rocky just kept following me. He looked worried, if a dog can look worried.

Dad started packing up the truck one morning. He said we needed to leave. We needed to see if there was anyone else who was ok. He spent days going from room to room finding things we would need on our trip. He said if we were going to leave the farm, he was going to be sure we got everything good before we left. That meant all the canned food, water and camping stuff. We brought fishing rods, and our rifles. He even made me bring some books. Some for him, some for me. Dad said the road was going to be boring at night with no TV.

The day before we left Dad said I needed to learn to drive. That’s when I started talking to him again. Driving was going to be fun! It took all day, but I got really good at it. Dad said it was harder for me to drive because I just reached the pedals. That and seeing over the steering wheel was hard. Dad said if we were going to have a chance, I needed to drive too. That night we practiced loading the guns. He wanted to let me shoot some, but the noise would bring the moaners.

We got up early and did one more walk through the house. Dad grabbed a picture of Mom, and we got in the truck. I asked to run back in real quick, and I got my baby blanket. You better not think I’m a baby, I just got it because my Mom made it for me. I waved at her grave and we drove off. I know men don’t have baby blankets, it’s my Mom’s. Screw you.

That day was hard. We drove, but kept ending up stuck where cars were blocking the road. Sometimes Dad could go around. He had to be real careful. Other times he would get out and put the car blocking the road in neutral. He’d push it out of the way. Sometimes I had to help. Rocky got really good at barking if he heard a moaner. He sat on watch the whole time. Rocky is much better at being on watch then me.

We didn’t see anyone alive all day. A bunch of moaners were on the road and in the grass next to the road, but no real people. Dad never stopped, he just drove around them. They were too slow to catch the truck. He hit a few as we went, but they wouldn’t get out of the way and the rest of the road was blocked. They were all ages, and colors. Some didn’t look too sick, but you knew they were.

We had to get fuel twice. None of the gas stations worked anymore, so Dad pulled gas out of other cars. He showed me how to do it too. Said I needed to know all of this stuff so I could help keep us alive. He said I had to grow up real fast, and yea it’s not fair but it’s gotta be done. We drove a lot that day. I kept hoping we would see someone, anyone. By dinnertime I figured there was no one else left. It’s not right that the world changed so fast. I don’t think anyone saw it coming.

Dinnertime comes and Dad says he wants to stop for the night. It’s warming up, and he says staying in the locked truck is gonna be better than trying to find a dead guy free area. I hated being in that truck all that time, but I knew he was right. Dad got all our camping supplies, except the tent because a tent in the truck would have been stupid. He lit a small fire, and we ate canned stuff for dinner. It was gross, Mom always cooked better than this, but Mom was gone and food is food.

He put the fire out as soon as the food was cooked, and we got in the truck and locked the doors. Dad said you don’t want to draw attention to where you are. The fire would have shown the dead guys, or someone else, our spot and we wanted to sleep in peace. Once I ate and got that blanket around me I feel asleep. It was one of those times when you are awake, then its morning. I thought I would wake up to a moaner chewing on my face, but when I got up there was no one.

Rocky was wide awake when I got up. He was staring out in the distance. I wonder if he slept at all that night. Rocky is better at watch than me. Dad woke up freaked out too. Jumped right up with that ready to fight look on his face. When he saw it was just me, him, and Rocky he calmed down. We all had to take a leak, and back then we didn’t go nowhere alone, so all three of us went out of the truck together. That’s when we heard it.

Moaners. Sounded like a group of them. Rocky growled soft, and pushed me with his body back to the truck. We all got in and waited. Dad said starting the truck would bring them over to us so we just sat there. The sound got further away. It took forever before it was gone. Waiting sucks. Dad had me try to read my book. Said I should get my mind on something else. I couldn’t do it then, but today I can ignore the moaners. They are only scary when they are close. Even then, I can hold my own.

We waited and waited and waited some more. About an hour after they were gone Dad got out of the truck. He grabbed breakfast and drinks out of the back of the truck. Jumps back in and hands me an empty bottle. You gotta piss he says, do it in there. We aren’t stopping unless the truck needs gas. Then we take off.

It was hard to get very far. There was so much in our way. There were cars, or moaners. Traveling was hard, and Dad was right the nights were boring. I missed TV, and video games. I missed my friends, and I even missed school. Most of all I missed my Mom. Dad tried to keep me happy, but there wasn’t anything to be happy about anymore. I think Dad thought we would find people by now, I sure did.

Dad was getting gas out of another car when it happened. Rocky and I were keeping watch, but we never saw it. A moaner, was a kid once, crawls out from under the car and bites Dad in the leg. He screamed and kicked the thing about 20 feet. Punted it like you would a football. That moaner was the scariest thing I ever saw. It came out of nowhere. Its small size made ambush easy for it.

Dad finished getting the gas, and climbed in the cab. He wouldn’t look at me, or talk to me for miles. I didn’t know what to think. I know Mom got sick, but maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe I got my ability to get bit from him. Rocky whimpered a few times, I think he felt bad. Maybe he wasn’t better at watch then me. Dad pulled to a stop near a bunch of wrecked cars. He made sure the truck was on the other side so we could take off easy if things got bad.

“I’m going to sleep in one of the other cars tonight. You and Rocky stay in here.”

“Why?”

“You damn well know why Max. If I change I want you two to take off.”

“I’m not going to leave you here!” I fought.

“To hell you’re not! This is not a discussion Max. You know what to do, you keep going. Rocky will keep you safe. Follow the route I’m going to mark on the map. You stay safe for as long as you can. I’m sorry son, this world has gone to hell and it sucks, but you’ve gotta try to find other people. You’re different. You got bit and didn’t get sick. That’s gotta mean something. You might be the way to fix this. Find a doctor, or a scientist. Let them get a look at you. Even if it hurts, let them look. I’m sorry son. I should have done better, been more careful. I’m sorry…” That’s when Dad started to cry. Dad was tough; this scared the shit out of me.

“You might be OK.” I hoped he would agree. He didn’t, he just shook his head and packed his stuff up to go to the other car.

I slept really good that night. Laying down in the truck without Dad there was a lot easier. Rocky fell asleep on my legs with his head resting on the window. Morning came really fast. I did my best to check for moaners before I got out of the truck. I could see Dad in the car next me, and he didn’t look good. He looked sick like Mom. It didn’t feel real. It wasn’t fair. I already lost my Mom, now I was going to lose my Dad too. If there is a god, why would he do this to me?