Aftershock: A Collection of Survivors Tales (19 page)

Struggling to breathe I was suffocating. Trapped under a tree with the water rushing around me I fought against the current with all my strength, but it was a losing battle. If I couldn’t pull myself out from under the branches I was going to die. How’s that for irony? I am immune to whatever is killing everyone else, but I am going to die just the same.

Last I saw Tim was trapped in a fight for his life. We had left the duck blind a few days ago because we ran out of calm water. Walking along the river left us exposed. We did our best to avoid the dead, we were armed, but not well enough to take on a large group. For days our plan was working, but we stumbled on a group of at least twenty dead. They spotted us before we had a chance hide, and to be honest we were so tired from traveling our reaction was less than ideal.

Tim pushed me behind him. I don’t know what I did to deserve a guardian angel, but Tim was mine. Ever since we left the island I have felt protected, watched over. Yet again, he put my safety before his. He motioned for me to double back. I wasn’t going to argue. He had the only gun, and my sharped stick wasn’t going to hold up against a large group of dead. I made the mistake of looking back one more time to see how Tim was holding up against the horde, and I tripped over a root on the shoreline.

The water was frigid. Immediately the wind was knocked out of my lungs, and I had forgotten the dead that were on the shore. From the moment my body hit that water I was thrashing through the water in hopes to feel dry land. I was too weak to swim in calm water, and this river was anything but calm. My body bounced off of logs, and rocks. Each blow left me more battered. The culmination of this river ride was a one way trip under a downed tree. I became tangled in the branches and fought for each breath.

My face kept slipping under water. Drowning is a horrible way to die. There is nothing peaceful about your lungs filling up with water. Your body wants to live, but you are growing more tired with each passing moment. I tried to calm down. So many times you hear survival experts say that panic will kill you. I stopped thrashing around. The current was still washing over me, but I could predict when my face would be under water. This allowed me to take small breaths in between those moments.

Once I knew I could get air, even though it was small, unsatisfying breaths, I could focus on removing my legs from their trap. Slowly I pulled at them, but only one would come free. I realized that the other was held in place by my shoe. If I could just take off the sneaker, I would be free. I only had one chance. The sneaker was too tight to slip off. Drawing in as much air as I could I plunged under the surface. The cold had numbed my fingers, the murky orange water made my eyes useless.

Each second that passed felt like it would be my last, and panic was beginning to creep back in. Suddenly, my foot was released. I grabbed for the tree, but the current was too fast, and I was too tired. My head broke the surface, and I was able to draw in a beautiful, full breath. A log was coming at me at lightning speed, though if you think about it, I was going at the log at lightning speed. It was stationary, and I was not. Smashing into it I used what little power I had and wrapped my arms around it.

Amazingly, the log was on the river’s edge. Motivated by the chance to live, I managed to pull myself up the log and onto the shore. I had no idea how far I had traveled, or if Tim was still alive. What I did know was that I needed to get moving. If I lay down now I may never get back up. The temptation to sleep was calling me, like a drug to an addict. Just like the drug, sleep would be the death of me. So, I fought the urge and limped slowly upstream. I had no weapons, no supplies, and no left shoe. I needed to find Tim.

The sky was lit up like a painting at sunset. Oranges, reds, and purples were spread out along the horizon. What should have been viewed with wonder, was seen with dread. I knew it wouldn’t be long before it was dark, and my good friend panic would be back. I kept hoping I would see something familiar, but it was all the same. Trees, dirt, and rocks as far as the eyes can see. I followed the river’s edge like a shadow follows his man. One foot in front of another, I trudged along trying to ignore the cold, and pains of hunger. I wondered if this was what they felt like.

Did they feel at all? Were they wandering through the woods cold, tired, and hungry? Was that why they needed to feed all the time? They were never full. For a moment I thought I had died and become one of them without knowing it happened. Maybe I had drowned. I guess I would know when I saw a live person. If I attacked then there was my answer. I had to find Tim. He would tell me what to do.

Muddy white sneakers lay at the end of a pair of legs that stretched out from behind a tree. I approached them with caution, the whole time praying I was wrong. There wasn’t much left of the rest of the body. His face was missing, but I knew this man. I also knew I was screwed. I lay down beside him on the forest floor. Wrapping my arms around his cold, blood soaked body I began to cry. For the first time since he rescued me I didn’t feel protected. As I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep I prayed again, but this time it was a prayer to never wake up.

“My name is Ian. What’s yours?”

No response, just that blank, quizzical stare. I could tell he wasn’t dead. The dead ones don’t look at you like they’re trying to figure you out, just figuring out how to get a hold of you. This one was half-hiding behind an overturned candy rack. I almost didn’t spot him. When I did, the first thought in my head was to pretend like I didn’t. Just keep moving. I was making good time, no sense in slowing myself down trying to put together an entourage.

Then I distinctly heard my mother’s voice damning me to hell for all time if I didn’t stop and see if I couldn’t help the boy. He wasn’t a boy, had to be at least twenty, but something in his face made me think of him that way.

So there I stood trying to get him to at least come out from behind the shelves.

“Are you hurt? Are you hungry? Are you alone?”

He didn’t even blink just stared at me not quite making eye contact but keeping me in the center of his field of vision. I couldn’t stand here all day. I only saw a few of those things outside when I ducked in, but were there are a few, there are a few more.

“Okay kid, I’m going to load this bag with some chocolate bars, you know, kind of round out my stash, and then I’m going to take off. If you feel like talking, now is the time.”

Nada. Almost like he figured if he ignored me long enough I would disappear. Which is exactly what was going to happen.

I went about grabbing a few candy bars, some smashed up fruit pies, and some more bottles of water. I was squatting over a pile of snack cakes digging around for some of those coconut cupcake things when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I dropped my shit, rolled forward over one knee and came around with my pistol expecting to see a corpse with his claws out. It was the kid. Jeez-us, how the hell did he sneak up on me??

He didn’t even flinch at the .45 leveled at his forehead.

“You’re fast.” That’s all he said. In this even, matter-of-fact tone, like he was telling me it was going to rain.

“And you’re sneaky,” I replied trying to match his tone even though my heart was about to jump out of my throat.

“You have to be,” then in a creepy, low whisper, “When they see you, they try to grab you, then they try to bite you. That is very rude. Father said I should never be rude.”

A fucking soliloquy from a kid who two minutes ago wouldn’t say ‘shit’ if he stepped in a pile of it.

I resumed the task of procuring my damned cupcakes while the kid rattled on about how he was going to his grandmother’s house because his mother and father were both dead. It was more than a little creepy hearing somebody regale me with the gruesome details of how his mother had been half eaten, then shoots herself, then the dad kills
himself
, with absolutely zero emotion. Something was seriously fucked up about this kid. I guess it was just shock or post-traumatic stress or some shit. Couldn’t say I blame him.

“You want to tell me your name?” I asked.

“My name is William. And your name is Ian. You told me before when I was hiding from you.”

“So where’s Grandma’s house Will?”

“William. I do not like to be called Will, or Bill, or Willy, or Billy.”

“Sorry, William. So where’s Grandma’s house. Maybe I can help you find it.”

“I know where it is. Mother used to drive us there and I am very observant. I will go north on Main street until I see the high school, then I will go west until I see the apple farm, then I will go north again, this is route 15. Only cars can go on route 15, but if I stay to the side I will be okay. On route 15, I will go north until I get to exit…”

“Okay, okay kid. I get it, you know where you’re going. How about I tag along, I’m headed in the same direction, roughly speaking.”

“I would like a Mars bar first. I haven’t found one here yet.”

“Well today is your lucky day William. I just happen to have four of them in my bag.”

He smiled at that, a real smile, content and happy, like the whole world wasn’t floating in the shitter, just couldn’t be, because he was going to get his Mars bar. At that moment, I envied the fuck out of this kid.

That all changed when he realized that I meant the bag was out in the Jeep. His face went blank again and he just stood there shaking his head.

“Father says I must never get into a car with a strange man.”

“We aren’t strangers kid. We’re old friends, you and me. William and Ian, like out of some old western. We roll into town, scoop up all the Mars bars, maybe a pretty lady or two and then ride off into the sunset,” I said, trying to motion him toward the door. I didn’t know how much longer we could stay here before one of the dead noticed us hanging out and started trying to get in. And I still needed to get some gas in the Jeep before we rolled out. “I’m not going to hurt you William. I want to help you get to grandma’s house.” It sounded stupid when I said it out loud.

“Father says I must never get into a car with someone I do not know unless they know the password. Do you know the password?”

“Shit, kid. I don’t have a fucking idea what the password is, but we don’t have a whole lot of time to stand around here playing getting-to-know-you games. We have got to roll. Please. Come with me.”

Back to square one again. That same empty eyed stare. It was different this time though, I could tell he was working things out in his head, turning the idea over. It looked like it was taking an effort though.

“Do you promise that you are not a bad person?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely. I was an Eagle Scout you know.”

He stood there for another minute, grinding the thought down until he could get his head around it. Then all of the sudden he nods, walks over behind a counter and grabs a Ninja Turtles backpack and head for the door.

“You shouldn’t swear so much. Father says it is not proper.” And out the door he goes.

I followed him out, scanning for corpses. Two of them were dragging their way up the street in the opposite direction, one I had seen earlier, the other was new. I threw our bags in the back of the Jeep and opened the door for William. He hesitated just a second before climbing in and asking for his Mars bar.

“They’re in the black bag in the back. Go ahead and help yourself. I have to get us some gas or its going to be a short trip.”

I grabbed the jerry cans off the back bumper and spied the handful of cars in close enough vicinity. I walked around the front of the Jeep moving toward a sporty little number half up on the curb. William was sitting in the passenger seat munching away with his eyes closed. I thought briefly about the trip he must have taken to get this far. He had to be retarded or something. How the hell had he made it this far? What did that say about me and the rough fucking time I’ve had of it. What about all those hardcase mother fuckers I had seen along the way, half eaten and dragging their own guts behind them? I figured his being retarded must have been a benefit rather than a burden. He had no real idea what the hell was going on. In his mind he was just going to Grandma’s for the weekend, hoping to get some snacks along the way.

I sucked half a can of gas out of the ‘Vette. A good start, but not enough. I moved to the next car, some little beater wrapped around a sign pole. Doesn’t anybody know how to drive anymore? I made my way past the driver side toward the gas cap and I just about shit my pants when a corpse missing half its face slammed itself against the glass from the inside. No way it had the strength to bust the glass, but I was a little worried that the racket might signal one of its friends.

I managed to top off one of the cans and get about a third of the other. I noticed my buddies from earlier had perked up and were headed back this way toward the shithead in the car making all the noise. The gas I had would have to be enough.

I beat feet back to the Jeep and William was still sitting in the passenger seat, chocolate smeared on one cheek and a contemplative look on his mug. I fixed the cans to the back and climbed in. I turned the key and as the engine kicked over one of the corpses threw itself onto the hood.

“That man looks angry,” William said.

“I would be too. If I was dead and all I wanted to do was lay down…” I trailed off as we sat there watching this thing beat itself ineffectually against the hood of the Jeep. I was more intent on watching William’s reaction to the whole thing. He just stared at it. No fear. No revulsion. No reaction at all, like he was watching an egg fry or an ant crawl on a windowsill. I couldn’t figure him out.

“We should go now,” William said, pointing out the windshield past the roof of another car. There were at least a dozen more corpses dragging their way toward us.

“Fuck ‘em,” I blurted, throwing the Jeep into first and driving over the fucker on the hood. I was half tempted to drop it into reverse and finish the job, but Mom always told me never to tempt the Devil. With my luck, we’d get hung up on the body and end up zombie chow.

“You should not swear. Father says it is not proper.”

“I’ll do my best kid.”

We drove in silence for a while. Progress was slow, moving around piled cars, on and off of side streets. We didn’t see too many more corpses either. At one point, I even managed to stop and fill the tank and both gas cans. Might even have enough gas to get to New Jersey, or at least close to it, even giving up my original plan to follow I-95.

William wasn’t the most conversational driving buddy. Every few minutes he would make some observation about a wrecked car or a gang of zombies shambling across the street. I noticed that they seemed to move in packs. It didn’t look like any kind of active decision, just kind of like those old pictures they used to show of Russians lined up for bread, only they were lined up for human flesh. And they weren’t standing still either, kind of shuffling along with no real purpose, unless one of ‘em gets a look at something they want to chew on. That happens and they home in like missiles. Slow moving, but fucking relentless.

So we just kept creeping north when we could, east when could, and doubling back only when we had to. The GPS didn’t last long, but I had maps. The going was slow, but not as slow as you might think. The back roads weren’t too tangled until you got close to an on-ramp for the interstate. We should be in New Jersey in less than a week, maybe even just a few days.