The Lonely Living (2 page)

I would say that my life flashed
before my eyes, but I would be lying.  It wasn’t like it was supposed to be at
all.  The laws of physics didn’t bend to allow the world to nearly slow to a
stop.   If anything, the world seemed to speed up.  Before I could inhale one
last desperate breath, I heard the unflinching squeal of rubber on pavement and
the terrible whine of a big rig engine grinding to a stop.  As if my body had
melded with the world around me, I felt the force of the metal behemoth halt
then ebb like a wave returning to the sea.  I opened my eyes slowly and was
greeted by bright light.  I thought for a quick moment that perhaps I was in
heaven, but the noise I was hearing was not the melody of angelic voices.  It
was the rumbling growl of an idling diesel engine and the heavenly light was
from the big rig’s high beams.  The semi had jackknifed to a stop, for reasons
I did not know, a mere fifteen feet away from our Chevy. 

I turned slowly to Abbey.  She
opened her eyes and smiled with vindication. “I knew it.” She said in innocent
vindication. “I knew God would stop it.”               

Relieved to be alive, I patted her
gently on the head then climbed back into the driver’s seat.   The smell of
smoke was stronger now and the light from the semi made it hard to see.   Abbey
coughed in the back seat.

“Keep your mouth covered,” I said
to Abbey, “this smoke isn’t good for you.”  

I glanced in the mirror to make
sure that she had done as I directed then tried to gaze past the blinding
light.  “I think I can get around the semi.” I said hesitantly, as if I was
waiting for the go ahead from my dad on one of our Sunday afternoon driving
lessons.

 I slipped the car into drive and
was about to press the gas pedal when someone shouted, “Stop!”

I looked right and saw one of the
soldiers standing a few feet away with his gun trained right at me.

“I can’t let you go.”  He said
sternly. 

He looked nervous, shaky and once
again I felt the same way.  I lifted my hands slowly off the wheel in
surrender.  He took a step closer and was about to say something when the
driver’s side’s door of the big rig’s cab fell open.  Like two startled dogs it
seized our attention.  There was a short moan from inside the cab, but it
wasn’t one of pain.  It sounded almost inhuman.   The soldier lowered his gun a
bit and stepped cautiously toward the open cab.   Caught in the moment, I kept
my hands in the air.  There was another moan, deeper, longer, grotesque, then
quiet.  The soldier took another cautious step and then jumped back when a
large, pot bellied man with a black leather vest stumbled out of the cab.  He
was pale and feverish.   The gray shirt under his vest was soaked with sweat.  
His head bent low, he took a couple of steps and then dropped to a knee.   I
didn’t see any blood, he just looked sickly.  He was breathing slowly, labouredly
and then he stopped.  The soldier approached him, gun still at the shoulder. 

“Get up.”  He said.

The man didn’t move an inch.

“Get up.”  He said again.

The man remained motionless, still
as a morning pond.  The soldier nudged the man with the barrel of his gun, but
he didn’t respond.  It was as if he was frozen by some kind of diabolical
enchantment, but that is fantasy, this was very real. 

The soldier’s face reddened with
anger, “Get up!”  He yelled. 

When the man ignored his demand,
the soldier reared his gun back over his head preparing to brain him. 
Suddenly, the man snapped his head up.  I couldn’t see his face but the soldier
could, and I watched his hard expression morph from anger to curiosity, then to
disgust in a matter of seconds.  Then the man, with a sudden deft movement of a
wild cat and with as much ferocity, latched onto the soldier’s leg and bit into
his thigh.  The soldier yelped in pain as he naturally brought the butt of his
rifle down upon his attacker’s back.  The soldier did it again and again, but
his attacker shrugged it off and persisted in his assault.  Finally, there was
a grotesque cracking sound as the butt of the rifle came crashing down on the
base of the man’s neck.  The fiend released his clasp and dropped to the
pavement, his broken neck bent unnaturally.  The soldier stumbled backward, the
color draining from his face as the blood poured from his leg and congregated
into a pool around the broken man. 

The soldier turned to me and
mumbled between short fading breaths, “Hel…Help…” before dropping his gun and collapsing
to the ground.

I opened the door and started to
get out of the car when the broken man lying in the pool of blood lifted his
contorted neck and head.  I watched in horror as he began lapping up the blood
with his tongue like a dog.  I glanced helplessly back at the soldier, who I
could see was sinking into a state of shock.  

 
I can’t leave him here.

I looked back at Abbey, who was
hiding her tearful eyes behind her hands, and thought of my father’s words and
decided against it.  I sighed sorrowfully and shut the door.  The broken man
heard it latch and climbed to his feet.   For the first time I saw his face and
knew how the soldier felt moments ago.  His glossy, pale eyes searched me over
as if I was a face he recognized, but didn’t quite remember.  I almost felt sad
for him.  Then in a flash, his expression changed.  His eyes darkened and
narrowed to slits and I saw something disturbing in his face.  It wasn’t anger
nor hate, but hunger.  A ravenous hunger.  A desperate hunger.  There was no humanity
left in him now.  There was only the most heinous desire.  I was not a friend
or fellow man to him.  I wasn’t even a stranger.  I was food.  I was prey.

His eyes widened and he charged the
car.  He leapt atop the hood and slammed himself desperately against the windshield
causing it to crack and splinter until it resembled an elaborate spider web. 
He growled and hissed as saliva rained from his bloody chin.   I sank back in
fear then slipped the car into drive. 

“Abbey, hold on.”  I whispered
anxiously.

I punched the gas pedal and the
vehicle lurched forward causing my attacker to face-plant onto the roof of the
car.  I jerked the wheel to the left and the front end of the Chevy barely
missed colliding with the semi-truck that had jackknifed to a stop.  I drove
around the flaming trailer as my attacker pounded on the roof above me.  He
wailed like a wild animal denting the roof with his fists in an attempt to
break thru.  I accelerated across the bridge and through the hole the semi had
made in the barricade.  Suddenly, my attacker’s hand punctured the roof.  I
jerked to my left side and braced myself against the door.  He swung his arm
back and forth grasping at air, his hand raw down to the muscle and bone.   Fortunately,
we were just out of reach.  Seconds later the arm retracted and there was a
searching dark eye where the arm had been.   I tried vainly to focus on the
road ahead, but I couldn’t help look away when the man began peeling back the
metal of the roof in a desperate attempt to make the hole bigger.  I knew then
what I had to do.  I reached into the front pocket of the hoody and took hold
of the gun my father had given me.  I was about to pull it out when Abbey
yelled.

“Blake!”

I looked forward to see an idle
fire truck stretched across the intersection before me.  I slammed the brakes
and turned the wheel desperately to the left.   The tires of the Chevy squealed
as they gained purchase on the pavement, throwing our attacker from the roof of
the car as we came to an abrupt stop.  Our attacker’s body tumbled underneath
the fire truck apparently lifeless.

 Breathing heavily, I didn’t wait
to see if he was going to get up.  I drove around the fire truck then sped away
from the scene. 

We were now in downtown Burbank.  I
drove cautiously down quiet Main Street, feeling as if at any moment all hell
was going to break loose.  But it didn’t.  Although, black smoke still hung
gravely in the air and the glow of distant fires casting shadows on rooftops could
still be seen, the quietness and seemingly normality of downtown Burbank after
mid-night put me at ease, made me feel that the worse was over.  I was wrong.

Our brief respite ended with the
rap of gun fire coming from up ahead as we exited the downtown area. 
Immediately, I stopped the car.  I glanced into my rearview mirror.  Abbey was
bent low in her seat, keeping a watchful eye on the hole in the roof as if that
hideous arm was going to burst through it any second. 

I sighed in a mixture of
frustration and fear as I rubbed my temples.   
I’m in over my head
.    

I wanted to stop right there, turn
around and find my dad and say “here, you deal with it.”   But, I could almost
hear his voice in my head saying
Blake, you can do this.
 What did he
see in me that no one else did? 

I breathed in deeply as if I was
trying to pull in courage from the air around me.  I peered into the rearview
mirror.   “Look at me Abbey,” I said calmly.

Abbey lifted her head up slightly
and reluctantly pulled her eyes from the hole in the roof.

I spoke with all the confidence I
could muster.  “I know you’re afraid, but I won’t let anything happen to you,
ok sis?”

She nodded insecurely.

“Just keep your head down.” 

With those words I eased off the
brake pedal and we began moving again.  The dark streets seemed darker the
further we moved from downtown Burbank and it felt like we were driving into a
storm.  The sporadic gunfire only grew louder, the orange glow only brighter.   I
tightened my grip on the wheel as another wave of adrenaline began to crest deep
in my stomach.   Lights appeared in the road ahead.  With squinted eyes I leaned
in for a better look.  They were headlights that I was sure of, and they were
moving at a high speed directly towards us.  Keeping one hand on the wheel, I
buckled myself in.  The upcoming car was driving fast and swerving side to
side.  I continued forward, determined to get out of Burbank and onto the lake
house.  But, our collision seemed inevitable as I could hear the roar of the
oncoming car’s engine as if I was at a race track.  The lights grew brighter
and finally I pulled the Chevy unto the sidewalk as a sleek red Mustang zoomed
past us, giving honor to its name.  I didn’t dare to question what the driver
of the Mustang was trying to escape, I knew I’d have the answer soon enough. 

Anxiously, I pulled the Chevy back
onto the road and continued on.  We came up to a hill and I slowed down a bit. 
The orange grow of fires from the other side was bright and the most awful
sounds split the air.  I heard voices.   Some were cries for help, others,
something different.  All intermixed with the spattering of desperate gunfire. 
I let the Chevy idle slowly to the top of the hill as if we were in the front
car of a roller coaster as it reached the peak before the plunge.   Once we
reached the top, I saw why the driver of the Mustang was going so fast.  The
small valley of suburbia was ablaze with chaos.  Homes on both sides of the
street were burning.  A fire truck lay overturned on its side, its sirens
singing in vain.  Silhouettes and shadows dashed in the glow of the fires. 

 We glided down the hill into the
valley and I was dumbfounded by what I saw.  This was my hometown and nothing
was normal.  If anything, I was staring at a broken jigsaw puzzle where normal
once had been.   I glanced into my rearview mirror to check on Abbey.   She was
still bent low in her seat, but her mouth was open a bit in mystified awe.  I
could only imagine what was going through her seven year old mind. 

Any surrealism I was feeling
evaporated when upon reaching the bottom of the hill I caught sight of a fire
fighter stooped over the body of a man in plaid pajamas.  As I we got closer, I
saw his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he feasted on his victim’s intestines. 

“Don’t look.” I whispered to Abbey

My father must have known it was
going to be like this as I heard his words in my head,
Don’t stop moving
. 
I took his advice.  I sped by more grisly scenes that were forever scorched
into my memory.  I swerved in and out of stopped traffic, past wrecked cars and
even an idle tank.   I maneuvered around downed power lines still sparking with
life and through billowing black smoke.  Trembling with terror, I focused only on
the road ahead.  The sound of gunfire ceased.  What military presence that was
here had either abandoned the fight or been overwhelmed.   There were the most
horrible shrieks and moans and groans in the dark.   I wanted to cover my ears
with my hands, try as I may I couldn’t ignore them. 

I slowed nearly to a stop as I came
up to a large military truck.  A woman slammed into the side of my window,
desperately crying for help before being yanked down from behind and dragged
screaming into the shadows.  Shamefully, I averted my eyes as I hit the gas and
sped around the truck, her cries lingering in my ears like a hallowed melody. 

Finally, an eternity of hazardous
driving, which in reality was only a few minutes, came to an end as we reached
the outskirts of Burbank.  The road out of town was very dark and quiet and
strangely I found it comforting.   I glanced into the rearview mirror.  Abbey
had her head buried in her arms.

“Abbey,” I said, “you can look
now.” 

She shook her head.  I couldn’t
blame her for not wanting to look.  It was a nightmare.  And to think I used to
lie in my bed and imagine days like this as if I was part of a video game.   

A few miles out of town we came
across a barefoot woman walking along the side of the road.  She was wearing a
dirty white nightgown that dangled around her ankles.  She was completely
disheveled and it was obvious she left in a hurry.  I thought of stopping to
help her, but remembering my father’s words and not knowing if she was one of
them, I just glided into the other lane to avoid her.  She barely looked over
as we drove past, but our eyes met for a long second.  She wore the most
helpless expression that told me she wasn’t infected.  An ache of sympathy
implored me to pull over, but something told me I needed to get Abbey as far
away from Burbank as possible.  I’d sided with my instincts and decided to
leave her when Abbey leaned forward and grabbed my shoulder.

“You have to stop.”  She begged.  “You
have to help her.”

“Abbey.” I answered with
frustration as I tried to think of an argument the she would understand. “I
can’t.”

She shook my shoulder.  “She’s my
teacher.   You have to help her.  It’s Ms. Connie.” 

I wish she’d never said that name. 
I didn’t know Ms. Connie from Adam, but I knew that name.  Abbey talked about
her all the time.  Ms. Connie this, Ms. Connie that.  Abbey adored that woman. 
She was the closest thing to a mom Abbey ever had.   I had to stop. 

I hit the brakes and put the car in
reverse.  I backed up the car next to Ms. Connie and rolled down the
passenger’s side window.  “Come on, get in.”  I said.

She barely acknowledged me with a
quick nod of her head then paused awkwardly before finally opening the door and
climbing in. 

“I’m glad you’re okay, Ms. Connie,”
Abbey said cheerfully, “but you need to put your seat belt on.” 

She turned her head slowly toward
Abbey as if the comment took extra time to register.  Her lips curled into a
half smile as she latched her seatbelt which pleased Abbey who sat up straight
in her seat.   A quiet moment passed before Abbey broke the silence.

“Ms. Connie, what happened?”

She stared vacantly out the window,
completely ignoring Abbey’s question.

Abbey leaned forward and touched
Ms. Connie on the shoulder.  “Ms. Connie?”

“Leave her alone Abbey.” I said
over my shoulder.

Suddenly, Ms. Connie spoke up. 
“He…He…wouldn’t wake up.”  She muttered.   “I tried to wake him up.  I tried.” 
She turned to me and pleaded apologetically as if I’d just accused her of
something, “I tried.  I really tried but I…”  She paused as her eyes filled
with tears.  “I had to leave him and then…”  Her lips moved but nothing came
out.  I could tell she wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the right
words. 

“I’m sorry.”  I said.

Those were the only two words I
could muster and I’m sure they weren’t enough.  Ms. Connie cupped her face in
her hands and wept bitterly.  Abbey leaned forward and rubbed her gently on the
arm.  Ms. Connie reached across her chest with her right arm held Abbey’s
hand.   I could see that Abbey didn’t really understand what was going on, but
she wanted to help somehow, even if it was just a supportive touch.  At that
moment, I realized how much my little sister had grown up right under my nose
without me seeming to notice.

Eventually Abbey fell asleep her
hand still cupped in Ms. Connie’s.  After a half hour or so Ms. Connie’s
weeping turned to sobbing before she drifted to sleep, her head turned away
from me.  The road was lonely.  There was no other traffic and there were no
lights.  My adrenaline high wore off and my eye lids became heavy.  Though
there was much that clamored for my mind’s attention, but I thought of only one
thing, meeting my father at the Lake House.  Then I could rest. 

An hour later, I nearly drifted off
to sleep when Ms. Connie began to stir in the seat beside me.  At first she was
twitching, much like one does in the first moments of slumber.  Then a fresh
bead of sweat formed across her forehead.

She’s having a nightmare.

 I pitied her.  She was obviously
traumatized and yet in her sleep she couldn’t escape.   I shook myself awake
and straightened up in my seat.  We were getting closer, but still had many
miles to go.    After a few more minutes of driving, my eye lids grew heavy once
more and like someone pulled a shade over my eyes, I fell asleep.  I awoke
seconds later with a start as the car rumbled beneath us after drifting
aimlessly off the road.  Abbey stirred in her sleep, even opening her eyes
briefly before succumbing to her dreamscape once again.  Ms. Connie stirred as
well then suddenly became very rigid.  Her breathing deepened and slowed then
stopped. 

“Ms. Connie,” I said warily, “are
you alright?”

In a flash her head snapped around
and I saw her face.  Just the same as the man before, she leered at me with dark,
merciless eyes that blazed with hunger. 

“Abbey!” I yelled in a panic.

Ms. Connie hissed then seized Abbey
by the hand.  Abbey screamed and unsuccessfully attempted to pull away from her
clutches, but Ms. Connie’s fingernails just dug deeper into her skin.  Keeping
one hand on the wheel, I violently punched Ms. Connie repeatedly until Abbey
was able to wrangle herself free.   Abbey fell back into her seat whimpering.  
Ms. Connie wailed like a wild animal then turned her attention to me, launching
herself at me with both arms flailing. 

It is true that seatbelts save
lives because her seatbelt saved mine.  The belt mechanism locked up, restraining
her to the point that I was just out of her grasp.  She howled and desperately clawed
at me, trying with all her might to break free from her restraint.  I steadied
the car, reached inside my front pocket and pulled out the pistol.  I repeated
my father’s instructions in my head,
line up the sights, release the safety
and pull the trigger. 
Ms. Connie refused to yield and the belt strained
under her relentless effort to break free.  I didn’t know if I could do it, I
honestly didn’t think I had it in me, but it’s surprising what one can do when
one’s life is on the line.  Not wanting Abbey to see what I was about to do, I yelled,
“Close your eyes Abbey!”