Day One (Book 3): Alone (3 page)

For the moment I was safe, whatever that meant, yet I didn’t bask in the minor glory because it could all change in the blink of an eye… as so many times in the past it had. History was a rather peculiar thing and had a way of repeating itself if one was not able to see the signs appropriately and change accordingly. Safety no longer meant what it’d once been defined as. There was no safety or security left anywhere in the world. You were either alive or dead – there was no in-between, not in the respect to the living, or rather, the ones not infected with this plague, disease, virus, or whatever the hell this thing was that had rocked the earth from one horizon to the other. That of course was an assumption, being I hadn’t sat down and watched TV in the last week, so there was no way for me to know with certainty that the rest of the world was reeling in the same shit I was.

Once I had my bearings, the idea of using the window near the bed looked to be the best route, not to mention the one of least resistance as well. However, on the other hand, climbing out a window into the darkness under heavy sheets of rain didn’t feel right for some reason. Maybe because I wouldn’t be able to see anything until I was already out there and if there were a dozen or more of those things outside, climbing back in would only escalate the situation further. Sure I could gaze out before climbing, but with the rain falling so heavy, the odds of me seeing anything were remote at best. There was also the fact that they might already know I was in here, which meant they would have eyes on every possible escape route. So, just because I could not see anything right before climbing out the window, did not mean that there were not anymore of them out there, hiding and waiting for anyone to leave.

Window? Not a good idea.

All of my decisions had already been made for me. The only way I was getting out of this house alive was in the pickup, which I had the keys after all and it was no more than a hallway width, three steps, and ten or so feet away. All I had to do was get around my new friend, roaming somewhere in the dark confines of the house, and out to the garage. He could easily be dispatched as several of his buddies had been, that is unless I was blindsided in my haste. Or I could sit in this house and let them build in numbers outside. I wasn’t a trained soldier and my shooting skills were just above that of a beginner, so I needed slow targets in small numbers. Not a heard of fast sprinting psycho’s hell bent on ripping me apart and feasting on my entrails right there in the hallway.

My mind became so engrossed with one stupid idea after the other that I had all but forgotten to keep a sharp eye out for my friend. The frustration was mounting, mixing with the stress and fear until I might as well have stood in oncoming traffic with my sight and hearing covered, as I waved and smiled like a raving lunatic.

The sound of a board creaking under foot dragged me kicking and screaming back to reality and I looked to see the silent figure standing in the doorway looking directly at me. A blink of lightning confirmed that thought as I could see its eyes piercing straight through me. The rifle had unknowingly lowered as I was lost in thought, becoming cumbersome as my mind worked at full speed to instrument a way out of danger.

Have I mentioned yet how I seemed to be stuck on stupid?

Thrusting the weapon up would only aggravate things, not any different in measure than running from a wild dog, which would instantly give chase and run me down. Not to say standing my ground would ultimately have a better result, but at least it would give me time to think about what I could do, as opposed to running blindly and making shit up as I went, which I was so famous for. That option never works out. NEVER!

The Figure took a few steps into the room, daring me to run. I stood my ground not because I was a badass or felt any real power with the rifle in my hands, but simply because I had nowhere to retreat to without the risk of tripping over the body somewhere behind me. “Stop right there!” I commanded it with a stern voice. “You come any closer and I’m going to shoot you!” If I could have slapped myself at that very moment I would have. The thing in front of me was not going to listen to my commands. It was going to kill me!

Chapter Two.

              It stopped its advance on me suddenly. “No…” blurted from its mouth as if spoken from a drunken person. It tried once more, and spit whatever it was thinking. “No… shoot.”

Against everything I had learned on my own, heard and seen, as well as been taught by others. I was positive that these things were just as dead as could be, only they were able to move around and during all this time running from them like a scared rabbit chased by the fox, I had never heard a single one utter or even attempt to speak, until now.

I shouldered the weapon, tempting fate, and offered more threats. “Then, back off!” I began to worry that my stern voice was carrying through the rest of the house and calling the attention of every other undead I could not yet see.

“Off…” it uttered and backed out of the bedroom.

I followed, willing to play this dangerous game of cat and mouse for as long as I thought I could keep one step ahead of the pesky feline trying to gobble me up. If things went south I could always just unleash a full magazine into the thing and try my hand at running. After all, they were slow and I was fast.

In the hallway, I was now closer to my original game plan than I had been in some time. All I had to do was keep pushing this thing back until it was far enough away for me to bolt for the pickup. The hardwood floor should slow it down, as it had a sock on the left foot and the right foot was bare. Half traction meant it would curve more in the direction of the wall than toward the hallway and ultimately the door leading into the garage, aiding in my escape.

The idea of running from the wild dog still spun around in my head. “Stay!

The figure eyed the weapon in my hands, never looking at my face or into my eyes. It was drawn to the weapon, almost fascinated by it. Apparently this thing understood the potential, as well as the power it held.

“Stay right there!” I added and began feeling with my right foot for the first step down. It took a step toward me and I halted. “Stay there or I’ll shoot you!” I let a single round go and it blasted through the wall just right of the things head. Paint and drywall exploded in a shower of debris and faint powder.

It stopped and once again I felt for the step and found it. The second one came easier and I felt like I was actually getting somewhere for a change. It came at me again and I was tempted to just shoot it instead of try and get it to stay. This damn thing was worse than a new puppy, minus the crap and piss all over the floor.

“Coming,” it said to me and pointed out into the garage.

The old trick of making someone believe that there was something behind them, so when they turned you could slap them in the head or whatever. It wouldn’t work with me and there was no way in hell I was going to take my eyes off the figure just a few feet away. The distance was far to shallow for me to recover from, if and when it lunged forward.

“Coming!” This time its words were more adamant and I felt an uneasiness slide over me.

With the short rifle still pointed at the figure and my finger eagerly on the trigger, I stole a quick glance to see six undead already within the garage, headed straight for me. “Shit,” I spouted and found myself braced waiting for the figure in the hallway to jump me. The odds of me getting out of this one alive were slim to none, and slim left town a week ago.

I’d love to say that the Young Woman had taught me more than enough to exit this current situation unscathed, unfortunately, that was the one major drawback to training. You could only go through so many different scenarios and how to react during each one, but you couldn’t cover everything. Even the best of the best Navy SEAL’s couldn’t train for all the possibilities in the world. They’d just use what they had learned and adapt to their surroundings, which is what I had to do swiftly or die. Problem is I wasn’t a trained soldier with years of training and shooting under my belt. I was a civilian with limited knowledge of weapons, tactics and how to adapt to any given situation.

I had gone from having partial control to absolutely no control in less than a second. It made me wonder if I ever really had any control to begin with.

I adapted the only way I could and jumped off the side of the steps, crashed into a metal rack used for storing garden tools and equipment and the pain burrowed through me intently, although I kept control of my weapon, did my best to overcome the crashing pain, and began shooting indiscriminately at the six new party guests.

Two dropped instantly, one took a round to the left shoulder and the bullet exited and hit another one square in the face. The two remaining undead tripped over their buddies, allowing me a moment to gather my thoughts and engage the final threat. I spun back toward the figure to find it still in the same spot.

When I had been confused before, I’d let my guard down for only a second. The confusion that filled me was mind blowing. At the school complex I could have been killed by another of those things, yet I wasn’t, and now there had been this prime opportunity for the silent figure to exact its need for human flesh. But it didn’t.

I was still alive. Why?

Whatever this thing was, it was obvious that it wasn’t human anymore, and at the same time it wasn’t like the undead I had encountered over and over again. It was smart. It hunted in packs, like wolves would do, so I had no doubt it could communicate efficiently. Yet I was still alive. For the life of me I could not get over this. Don’t get me wrong, I was in no way upset that I wasn’t dead. I guess I was just relieved and not knowing why worried more than the act itself.

More questions than answers circled through my head. And maybe that’s what it wanted, since I killed the rest of its pack – I presumed so, since no more of them had appeared. Maybe it wanted me not to feel threatened in order to get closer to me? We have a tendency to let non-threatening things closer to us, in our lives every day, which make us vulnerable. Yes, they aren’t the undead that I am referring to, but it’s really no different if you stop and think about it. These people that we let close to us have the ability at any time to harm us. Yes there is a big difference between mental harm and physical harm, but what I’m trying to say, is that we humans have the same opportunities to grant mercy as we do to inflict harm.

“No shoot,” the figure said. “Save… you.” It continued to eye me without so much as an ounce of malice anywhere upon its face.

What do you say to something in that instant? Especially something that could have joined in with the six undead and helped to not only take you down, but also eat you alive. I was done with all of this shit. I didn’t understand any of it and quite frankly, I was tired of even trying to understand or figure it out. I needed to just get away and think clearly without having to look over my shoulder ever thirty seconds.

I lowered the rifle.

There was a silent moment between the thing and I, as if we were both unsure of what to say or do next. I chose to leave and darted for the pickup with the keys in my hand. Opening the door I took one last glance at my friend in the hallway, looking at me. I didn’t know what to think, or even which direction to let my mind roam. I entered and shut the door. “What the hell just happened?” I asked aloud and started the truck.

Down the same roads, once again, I had time to ponder – and not just the things in recent memory, but everything from day one. Those distant memories, which seemed now like a lifetime ago, gave me a new understanding of myself. I didn’t see the person on the outside – the intolerable reflection in the mirror. I saw the person that mattered more… the willful spirit on the inside. The one that had stood against a great many things, wrestled with giving up on the old world and accepting the new one for what it truly was.

I was alive.

I had made my choices. And now I was alone.

How could anyone that had suffered and survived so much and done the things I had, not to mention the things I’d seen that would forever haunt a many sleepless nights, even remotely consider himself a coward? I had run when things were hostile, who wouldn’t have? I had backed away from several fights, due to my morals. I had chosen to live like a civilized human being in an uncivilized world. Yet even with all of these accomplishments, the narrow escapes, the harrowing rescues, all the while facing death in the face at every turn, I still couldn’t shake the feeling of being
that
coward.

My wife was dead. I’d left her in the middle of the kitchen without so much as checking to ensure that she was really gone or still alive where I could have tried to help her. That thought was absurd, I knew it. Even if she had still been alive, and let’s face it that’s a pretty big
if
, there was nowhere that I could have taken her. The Police didn’t want to help me, even though I had went to them, so how would me getting her into the SUV and racing off into the night of made any difference? Loading her would have left Kember in mortal danger as well as myself. Just helping her could have killed us all. And what would that have solved?

It was because of all that that I embraced, instead of continued to fight, the title of coward and would respectfully carry it with me, wearing it like a varsity jacket until my last breath. There were things I could have done, should have done, but I didn’t. I could have called or text the people I knew that night and warned them. Instead I left my daughter and wished them the best. At the fork in the road I could have turned and went for my son – I was here now, nine days later – but instead, I went immediately to the interstate to save my daughter’s life. At least that’s what I tried to tell myself later, when in fact I might have done it to save my own ass. It really didn’t matter, because there was no help when we arrived. I don’t think there ever really was any to begin with. I think the cop knew that, although compared to what he did know for sure, he sent us there to get us out of town and save us.