The Darkening (A Zombie Awakening) (3 page)

             
“What do you think is going on out there?”
Mychal
pulled out of her embrace, most likely embarrassed at his display of what he would consider childishness.

             
“Sodom and Gomorrah.
Could you get me the first aid kit?
”
She needed to clean and dress the burns on her forearms.

             
Mychal scooted off the bunk and rummaged in a metal trunk under the table. Within minutes, Chalice applied a cool balm to her burns and began wrapping the wounds in gauze.

             
“Is that where Mom touched you?”

             
Chalice nodded. “Now, she’ll always be with me. I have the marks to prove it.”

             
“I wish she would’ve touched me.” Hanna wailed and threw herself face down on the bed.

             
“We’re going to die, aren’t we?” Mychal plopped in a chair and covered his face with his hands.

             
“No
,
I won’t let that happen.” Chalice closed the medicine box.

             
“People will find out we’re here, they’ll kill us, and they’ll take our stuff.”

             
“Stop it
.
” Chalice lunged to her feet. “Don’t talk like that.” She glanced at Hanna. “Mom would want us to be strong and brave.” She could at least pretend, regardless of the fear that skittered through her. Once she deemed it safe enough to venture out, they’d take their guns and head to the coast. Somewhere there would be survivors.
There had to be.

###

             
Colton rolled into a ball and covered his ears as bombs exploded outside his cave. He probably shouldn’t have hidden alone. There was safety in numbers, right?  What happened when it was safe to go outside? Being alone would thrust him into a dangerous situation. Especially with what
w
ould only be a fight for food and water. He eyed his bike.

             
He’d stay to the back roads. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to hotwire a car and take that as far as the gas would allow.
But where would he go? The coast? Where would that start now? Arizona? Were the tsunamis as large as the scientists feared?
How long until the water receded?

             
Bile rose in his throat.
He ticked off in his mind the acts he’d need to take to survive. Anything to take his mind off what was happening outside. Maybe he shouldn’t have left the Forrests
’
. Were they still alive? Would taking them with him have guaranteed their survival? What about his
friends
? None of them believed him, not really, when he’d explained the likelihood of a meteor strike. They’d scoffed and called him a scaredy-cat, and worse.
They’d p
ut too much faith in mankind
’s strength
against space.

             
They’d angered him
at times, making fun of him being a foster kid when he was almost eighteen
, yet he hadn’t wished a single one of them dead.

He shivered, and scooted farther from the entrance where he’d piled rocks only hours before. He shut his eyes to try and block out images of what the outside world must look like.
Death and destruction. Balls of fire exploding
on impact
.

Acrid air drifted through the gaps in his barricade.
Through the smoke he could make out flickers of flame
s
.

             
He’d never felt more alone, or frightened. Not even when walking into a new foster home. Now, he lay huddled in a hole in the mountain and prayed the horror outside would pass him by.

             
There was enough food to last him two months, if he was careful, but
he
didn’t know if he could stay alone that long. He closed his eyes and wished for it to end.

Chapter 3

             
One month later
.

             
Colton rolled the stone from his cave and shivered. If not for the watch on his wrist, he would’ve thought the time of day
was
dusk. Instead, the hands showed ten a.m.
A s
pring
morning that felt like winter.
He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his ears and stepped outside.

             
No birds sang. No dogs barked. Instead, a brisk wind whirled
ash and dried leaves
around his feet.
Thankfully, his hiding place hadn’t received much more than pebble-sized rocks raining down.
Colton scrambled to a nearby bluff and gazed over what once was the city he grew up in.
Cedar Creek
resembled the set of an end-of-the-world movie
lot
.

             
Skeletons of buildings dotted the landscape, rising fingers of blackened wood that stretched toward a grey sky. Somewhere in the distance, a gunshot ricocheted. So, there were other survivors. Colton shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Even after being alone, shut up in a dank cave, he had no desire to meet any of them.
And it would be the last time he left the cave without his weapon.

             
He glanced north toward Interstate 40. A lone bus traveled at a snail’s pace.
A few people shuffled along the shoulder.
Maybe he ought to see about securing a vehicle and head out himself before someone f
ound
his lair and stole what little he had.

             
He loped back to what he called home and surveyed the pile of supplies. Grabbing the bike and his rifle, he set off down the mountain, intent on stealing the first vehicle he came across. Hopefully, he’d score something with a full tank of gas
and keys
.

             
Ironic how a natural disaster could turn
an honest person
into a crook.
N
ow every thought seemed to be about what he could claim next.

             
“I’ve
become
what everyone said I would.” His voice sounded strange to his ears and floated away on a wind that smelled of sulphur.

             
Thirty minutes later, a bandanna tied across his face
, he rode into the yard of a burned
-
out farmhouse. He put down the kickstand of his bike, whipped his rifle from the strap around his neck, and approached the shell of what was once the home of a school buddy. A bull mastiff bounded from around the corner.

             
“Hey, Buddy. Where’s Mark?”

             
The dog wagged his massive tail.

             
“How come you don’t look like you’ve been starving?”
Colton relaxed and patted his leg, encouraging the dog to come closer.
He rubbed his hand over the dog’s matted fur.
“
Mark d
idn’t make it, huh?
Or did they leave you behind?
” He eyed the black Suburban by the barn. “What’s the chance of being able to take that?”

             
Buddy barked.

             
“Okay, I’ll take that as permission.” Hope leaped in his chest as Buddy followed close at his heels. He’d take the company of a dog over that of humans anytime
. T
he
isolation
of the last several weeks ate
at
Colton
, showing him that no matter how brave he tried to be, he didn’t like to be alone
. “Does Mark still hide his secret key in the barn?”

             
He prayed his friend did. Buddy loped ahead of him.

Sure enough, the keys to the truck still resided in a tin can shoved deep in the hay.
A ripped bag of dog food answered his question of what Buddy’d been eating.
Colton grabbed
the other
fifty pound bag of food and hoisted it to his shoulder.

“Can’t leave you out here all alone, can I? Although I don’t know how I’ll feed you when this
is
gone.” He moved outside and tossed the bag in the back of the Suburban,
before turning to study
the house.

             
A meteor seemed to have struck close enough to set the house on fire, but not disintegrate it. There might be something salvageable inside.
He hoped so, anyway
.

             
He stepped through the front door and grimaced at the sight of three burned bodies, arms outstretched as if they’d tried crawling the last few feet to safety.
The smell seeped through
Colton
’s bandana, turning his stomach. He turned his head,
took a deep breath
,
and squared his shoulders. He could do this. He had to.
If he didn’t scavenge, someone else would.

             
Making a wide skirt around the bodies, he headed to the kitchen. Nothing left of the cabinets
,
and the weak outside light streamed through the holes in the walls, but the refrigerator still stood. Colton opened the door and gagged.

             
Spoiled meat, milk, and eggs assaulted him. He held his breath and grabbed the couple of water bottles on the shelf and a jar of pickles. He stepped back, took another deep breath and scanned the remaining items. Nothing he trusted not to kill him. He yanked off what remained of the pantry door.

             
A
box of pop tarts
, and some boxes of fruit juice
were added to the pile at his feet. Not much, but what could you expect from people who’d scoffed at the idea that
a
meteor would dare strike Earth. Still, the little he found was more than he had before.
He
counted himself fortunate.

             
The stairs leading to the second floor looked to
o
unstable to chance climbing. But he was still tempted to search and see whether he could find a thicker jacket. No, he’d best be on his way before someone came along.

             
He added his new supplies to the bag of dog food, secured his bike to the back of the truck, and then climbed behind the wheel. One more trip up the mountain to retrieve the rest of his things and he’d see where the road west would lead him.

###

             
Lady’s bark yanked Chalice from a deep sleep. Her eyes probed the darkness, ears strained to hear.

             
Footsteps pounded above them. Survivors
.
But were they friend or foe?

             
“Lady
.
” she hissed. “Quiet.”

             
“What is it?” Mychal whispered. “Should I open the door?”

             
“No, not yet.” Chalice kicked off her blankets. “See to Hanna. Make sure she doesn’t make a sound
and keep the dog quiet
.”

             
She fished for the rifle propped beside the bed and slid her feet across the floor to feel her way. Something bashed the door. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. Another bash, then the window shattered.

             
Hanna shrieked.

             
“Hey! Someone’s down here
.
” A bearded face peered down at them. “It’s a bunch of kids.
I bet
they’ve got food.”

             
Chalice lifted the rifle
and planted her feet to prepare for the gun’s recoil
. “Get behind me Mychal. Hanna
,
too.” She didn’t want to shoot anyone
,
but she would if it meant saving their supplies.

             
“Go away
.
I swear I’ll shoot you.” She aimed for the hole.

             
“Sure you will
,
little girl.” The man stuck his arm through the window and grasped for the handle.

             
Chalice pulled the trigger, blowing away two of his fingers. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. The man howled and pulled back. She held her breath, and waited.

             
“We’ll be back, girlie. You won’t be so lucky next time,” someone yelled.

             
Chalice plopped into a chair and cradled the gun. She’d recognized the second voice. One of the Baker brothers. They’d hold good to their promise.