Read My Apocalypse (Book 1): The Fall Online

Authors: Edward J. Eaton II

My Apocalypse (Book 1): The Fall (11 page)

 

28.

 

I let the water wash over me, taking my second shower in so little a time. I watched the drain, seeing the grime and blood go down it and disappear. Once again the conversation I had had with Alec came to mind, how he told me that the ravenous spread their unique brand of infection. I thought back to the two times I had come into close contact with them: The first, the man on the tracks, and just here awhile ago with Cat. I remembered Cat better, and knew that his blood had mixed with mine, both in the wounds on my hands, and the one on my legs.

Why wasn’t I changing?

I was so deep in thought that I had not heard the bathroom door open, and jumped, almost slipping in the soapy water, when I heard a voice beside me.

“Eddy?” It was Abigail, and, wondering why she was in here, I ducked my head out of the curtain. She stood in the center of the bathroom, which meant she was little more than a foot from where my head was, holding a bundle of clothes, her head lowered, looking slightly embarrassed.

“What do you need, Abigail?” I asked her.

“Wall wanted these clothes brought to you,” she started saying, “said to let you know that the shirt may be a little tight for you, but the pants ought to fit fine.”

“Thank you. You can leave them on the sink.” I pointed over to it, and she promptly sat them down. When she didn’t leave right away, I wondered at what else she needed.

“Abigail?” I asked.

“Umm…” she said, and I could see her face flushing even in the dim light. “I was just wondering if maybe you’d want me to wash your back, or anything.”

I reached over and turned the water off, then reached for the towel I had hung on one of the nearby hooks. I wrapped it around me, and stepped out of the shower. Abigail was looking at me, and I chose my next words carefully, not wanting to make the situation any worse for either of us.

“Abigail,” I began slowly, softly. “I am not exactly sure of what to say, other than that I am in love with my girl. I can’t give up on her, not when she could still be out there.”

“Eddy,” she began, but I held my hand up to silence her.

“Look,” I continued, “I don’t blame you at all. I’ve only been awake a few days, and I can’t imagine how any of you have dealt with all of this. Hell, I already feel like reality is coming unhinged. But I can’t give up on my family, I
won’t
. Not when there’s a possibility they are still alive out there. Do you understand?”

“I…” she said, stumbling over her words. “I didn’t… I mean… Umm…”

She flushed a bright red, and then turned, almost running head first into the door. It took her a couple of tries to get the door knob turned, and then she quickly opened it and left me alone in the room. I sighed, unsure at my words, and if I had done the right thing. Well, I was sure staying faithful was right, but I was also sure I could have handled that situation much better. I rested my hands on the sink, and looked at myself in the mirror.

I saw the scars on my face, the missing eye. I saw the long hair and the beard, and wondered if my family would even know me if I found them again. So much had changed the whole world in fact. I had left my home to look for my dog, what to me felt like just a couple of days ago, and had woken up in Hell. Would my family be the same? Would they all welcome me back?

Were they even still alive?

My fist flashed out, slamming into the mirror and shattering the glass. I felt the bright fire of pain, and watched as blood flowed freely from spots where pieces of the mirror had embedded into the flesh.

“Aw fuck,” I swore, and then sat about the task of cleaning up yet another wound.

 

29.

 

I exited the bathroom a little while later, my hand now wrapped up, the gauze already showing signs of blood soaking through it. Some of the cuts had been pretty deep, and under normal circumstances I was sure they would have required stitches. I had donned the clothes that Abigail had brought me from Wall, and she was correct, the shirt was a little tight. I did have to also admit that I looked damn good in military garb. The olive shirt and camo fatigues looked natural on me.

I looked around when I got into the dining room, and was surprised to see that Bud’s bedroom door was now open. I looked questioningly towards Wall, sitting nearby, his head leaning up against the nearby wall.

“Found one inside,” he told me. “It almost looked like it was locked in there on purpose. Don’t know why though, thing didn’t have any teeth. Almost felt bad to have to kill it.”

“What’s going on Wall?” I asked him straight, and stood there without moving, waiting for an answer.

“Okay Eddy, you are due an answer. Doc’s out at the truck. Let me go grab her and then we’ll talk. That fair?”

I nodded agreement to him, and he got up and vanished out the front door. I settled into one of the dining room chairs, and once more looked around. There were people curled up all over the floor, most looking like they just passed out wherever they found a place to lie. The twins were on the couch together, sleeping peacefully. I looked at them and my own kids came to mind. I wondered if they slept as peacefully tonight, curled up together, or all resting on Crystal. I could see my baby awake, struggling to keep herself awake, just to watch over the kids, to make sure they were safe. The thought made me smile, but I was pulled out of my revelry when Wall and Doc Mc Layton came back in.

“All right,” I said, cutting them both off before they had a chance to speak. “I want answers, and I want them now.”

“Well, it would help if I knew the question.” Doc said, looking at me and crossing her arms.

“Why haven’t I changed?” I looked between Wall and Doc as I asked. “I’ve been covered in those things blood, chunks, and that black shit. Alec told me that was how the ones spread their infection. Now, he was either lying, didn’t know what he was talking about, or there’s something else going on. Which is it?”

“All of the above,” Wall answered me, but then he looked towards Doc to continue.

“He was right,” she began, “on how the virus is spread. If you are bit, you turn slowly, and you turn into one of the slower creatures. The ravenous, on the other hand, are an entirely different breed. They spread the infection through that black fluid they spew onto you. It takes seconds normally, and the longest transformation that I know of took only three minutes.

“You seem to be immune to it.”

She gave me a moment before she continued, letting that last bit sink in.

“When we first found ya, ya still hadn’t been cleaned up completely. It was during the first tense hours of the infection, and no one thought of it immediately. It wasn’t till we retreated to the fourth floor that all the pieces fell together. I was going around; making sure that no one needed medical attention, when I went into your room. I was able to get a better look at ya, and that was when I noticed the ichor dried in your beard, on your face, and around your wounded eye.

“I immediately panicked, and went to find Wall. I dragged him back to your room, and demanded that he shoot ya. If he hadn’t a calmed me, you’d be dead right now.

“I was a little more objective,” Wall said, “and noticed that you had been there for awhile at that point. I was able to calm her down, finally, and convince her that you weren’t a danger.

“We had you moved to the hallway so that we could better watch you, and had you shackled to the gurney.”

I had been listening intently, but still hadn’t heard the answer I was looking for, so I sat forward and opened my mouth to speak, but Doc shushed me and continued her story.

“Months passed, and still you didn’t turn. I began wondering, and decided it’d be safe enough to start running some tests on ya. So I took some of your blood. But no matter what tests I did, nothing seemed special about you. So I speculated that it must be your coma that you would turn if you woke. Then you finally woke up, and when you didn’t turn, I was once more at a loss.”

“So what happened then?” I asked, more confused than ever.

“I had her draw some of your blood again right before you woke up,” Wall spoke up. “As a matter of fact, she had just gotten done when you woke, so it could be said that it was what woke you. But that is beside the point.

“Shortly after you left, one of my scouts returned. He had been sent out with three others, and only he returned. He told me that they had been set upon by two of the ravenous. He had struck gold though, for he brought with him a small amount of blood from one of them, retrieved before one of them damned things died. It was the break we had been waiting for. We had never had the chance to study any of the ravenous blood, and Doc was ecstatic.”

“I went to work at once,” she said, interrupting Wall’s recollection. “But it wasn’t until I remembered your blood that I had a breakthrough.

“See, the ravenous spread like any other infection, but it is much more than that. It’s like a cancer, bonding to your cells and corrupting them, mutating them, turning them into something else. I put a single drop of the blood onto samples of a dozen other people with the same result: Total transformation within seconds.

“Then I tried it with yours.”

“Come on, Doc, get to the point.” I said.

“The point is,” she continued, “nothing. Well, not exactly nothing, but no transformation at least. I watched as it attacked your blood cells, but where all others succumbed, your cells not only repelled, but actually killed the ravenous ones.”

“Eddy,” Wall said, looking at me closely, “your blood may be the cure to this all.”

 

30.

 

The next morning came quickly, and I hadn’t found sleep that night. After the discussion with Wall and the Doc, my mind couldn’t calm down. I had needed a little time to myself after the whole “cure” bombshell, so I had gone outside for some fresh air.

Walking around the yard, memories flooded back to me. I could see Carl out in his garden, cussing at his plants for not producing yet. I saw Aliyah running around the yard, laughing, chasing after the kittens. The boys shooting one of their grandpa’s pellet guns, pretending they were killing zombies. That last one had actually made me laugh, considering the circumstances.

Then I saw Bud. Carl and the family must have left him behind, and I felt stupid for not going into his room. I believed that Bob had locked one of his sons into the bedroom, but I now realized that it had been shut when he claimed the house. Bud must have gotten bit, and I could see him clearly in my mind, and how it had happened. I knelt down beside his body and started to weep. Before this, I had hoped that my family was safe, imagining them all protected somehow from this damnation. Seeing Bud’s body there, cold and dead, a bullet hole in his head from where one of the soldiers had shot him, it brought me clarity.

No one was safe.

I got up and started walking again, lost in my own thoughts. I ended up by Carl’s garage, and saw the soldiers trying to get in. I stood there and watched smiling because only Carl could make it so no one could get into it. But I was wrong, and eventually the small door gave way to them. I stopped them from going in telling them that it wasn’t right, family should enter it first.

Was I ever glad that I did?

My father-in-law’s garage, usually filled with whatever hundred projects he was working on, was now dominated by one thing: a car. I walked all the way around it, for it was a thing of beauty. I dug the key my baby had left me out of my pocket, looked at it, and then smiled largely as I looked back to the car. My baby knew my tastes.

There before me stood a beautiful nineteen fifty-eight Plymouth Fury, good old Christine herself. It was a hard top, and the whole vehicle had been painted a flat primer grey. It was what was, obvious to me, Carl's addition to the vehicle that drew my eyes and the eyes of the other soldiers in the garage. Attached to the front were two small snow-plows, made for something the size of a lawnmower. They had been welded together and set at an angle, peaking dead center of the car, creating a kind of cow-catcher. It too had been painted grey, and tears came to my eyes as I took in the beauty of the thing.

I opened the door up, ready to fire it up, and stopped when I saw what was in the seat. I reached in and gingerly picked up my sword, the one thing I had not been able to find when at my house. I had given it up for lost the size and heft of the thing to much for anyone but me, and even that was for maybe a single swing. There, pinned to a home-made sheath, was a note. I pulled it off with greatest care, and began to read.

“My Love,

“You always complained it was just too big. I had Dad fix it for you. We went to Champaign, and I hope to see you there. Also hope you like the car.

“Crystal”

I slid the note in a pocket, and grabbed the swords hilt. It slid easily out of the sheath, and I marveled at the new lightness of the blade. Carl had taken almost half of the once seven-inch wide blade off, making it into a sweeping, single edged blade. The curve was beautiful, and the leading edge razor sharp, all the way up to the wide, chisel tip. It felt wonderful in my hands, natural even. I returned it to its sheath, and laid it on the front seat of the car, sliding in after it.

I sat there behind the wheel for a minute, my hands resting on the wheel. I had not driven for almost five years by that point, and hadn’t had my license for almost fifteen. Then I laughed, realization setting in. What was I worried about, the cops? Getting pulled over, or getting a ticket? I was being silly.

In the zombie apocalypse, there weren’t any cops anymore.

I slid the key home and turned it gingerly. The old girl roared to life, and I smiled at the vibrations running through my body. Once started, it settled into a beautiful purr. Carl obviously had tuned this beast up, and I could see his face clearly in my mind when Crystal told him he did it all just to leave it behind for me. I turned it back off and slid out, pulling my sword with me. I had then walked out of the garage and back to the house, certain of my next course of action.

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