The Nameless Survivor (Valkyrie) (30 page)

              I have come across many simpletons over the years, absent minded, yet curious and soulless beings. They are just one of the many personalities that the infected possess. From a distance one might even mistake them for the living, which is what taught me to always demonstrate extreme caution with every undead fiend. Rarely ravenous, I assume they have even starved to death in their own stupor. Although my name for them depicts a mindless being, they are by far without some form of human thought process. I am unsure if this is trait caused by the virus itself, or merely the remnants of a lost soul.

             
They wander about with persistent curiosity, easily fixating on almost any visual stimulus. Simple things though, things that the living would never pay much attention to. Wayward twigs, a piece of garbage, or even a soaring turkey-vulture that watches them with hungered anticipation. When they become bored with one object, they move on to find another. Constantly searching for the next clue, as if searching for answers to a question they cannot ask. Starting from scratch in the pursuit to the meaning of their own existence. They are the Pioneers of the damned, doomed within their own inquisitiveness.

             
Elmer was one of those simpletons, one that both Mia and I observed in detail for a few hours today. When we first stumbled across Elmer, he was unknowingly blocking our path. But, rather than maneuver around him to keep our course, we instead, maintained distance and took interest in studying his behavior. It was a neglectful waste of our time, but he was slowly and surely heading in the same direction as us. Taking a moment to get to know him gave us some comfort in socialization, something lost and yearned from the old world. Although, Elmer was by far the most linguistic conversationalist.

             
He was an overly tall man, pushing six and a half, maybe even seven feet tall. His skin still a pale gray, not yet rotten and black. His eyes sunk back into his narrow skull and his short gray hair lay greasy yet completely intact on his scalp. He still wore a dingy-blue business suit and walked about barefoot. A gold chain dangled from his hip, one end clipped to a belt loop, the other attached to a cloaked watch resting deep within his barren pocket.

             
Elmer stood in place during our initial introductions and stared up into the sky, directly into the blinding sun. Not once did he flinch from its blazing light, instead his eyes remained wide and focused. Every so often his head would cock to one side, as if attempting to attain a better view or maybe even catching sight of something that is generally undetectable by human eyes. Either way, he studied this foreign light source for quite some time, oblivious to our intruding presence.

             
We inched closer when he lost interest in the sun and began to move off down the street. Staying only a few yards behind him, following cautiously, keeping silent as not to catch his attention. It wasn't long before his eyes fell upon something else and he stopped dead in his tracks. Gangly he scooted down towards the ground, his head cocking side to side as he tried to make sense of his latest fixation. Carefully we moved closer, stopping mere feet away from him, just to see what it was that amazed him so much. And even though Elmer should have seen us out the corner of his eye, he paid us no mind.

             
He was obsessively infatuated on a once valued object which lay upon the sun beaten pavement. A corroded and long forgotten quarter, now nothing more than a worthless chunk of nickel and copper. But, to Elmer, it was a magnificent mystery, for which he spent the next half hour studying. There was even a moment that he slowly reached down and lightly brushed his finger over it, almost as if to make sure that it was real. Then slowly pulled his hand away and leaned his face closer towards it.

             
In a moment of boredom and idiotic thrill-seeking I decided to test out his attention-span. Slowly we distanced ourselves a few feet away, as a precaution just in case he became angry at my interruption. Although he seemed mild-tempered, one should never underestimate the vicious nature of the beast. It is unwise to provoke the dead, no matter how meek they may appear to be, and yet it still deterred me little. With a deep breath I loudly called out to him.

             
“Elmer!” his eye remained locked on his discovery, and Mia grabbed hold of my arm in an attempt to prevent my antagonistic calls. Yet again, I shouted, even louder this time, “Hey, Elmer!”

             
That got his attention as his head turned slowly towards me, his eyes cast an annoyed glare into mine. But he did not abandon his stance, nor did he show any aggression towards me, aside from a muddled and deep-throated grunt. Then tuning us out, he returned his attention back onto the specimen before him. Decisively, I did not press my luck any further, and soon Elmer moved on as we continued to follow him. It was getting late in the afternoon, and I contemplated pursuing him any further, but my own curiosity had gotten the best of me. Over those few hours I had developed an odd and unspoken friendship with him, a fondness that cannot be explained in words.

             
Mia’s patients for my carelessness had run thin, and just as I was ready to say my goodbyes, Elmer stopped before the Norrville Bank and Trust. The large mirrored windows were completely intact, and it was his own reflection that had caught his eye. A distorted figure staring back at him, a queerly familiar face. It just might have been the first time he had seen his own reflection, at least since the day he turned. He was ultimately perturbed at what he saw, stepping closer and closer to the figure, grunting offensively at himself. With each passing moment he became more and more agitated with this new visage, and soon the rage commonly found within the infected exposed itself. Elmer released a ferocious roar and slammed his fists into the glass.

             
The pane reverberated from the strike causing Elmer's reflection to shimmer violently across the sheet of glass. This only deepened his misguided anger, and with another roar his fists smashed through the window, sending shards of glass crashing down onto the sidewalk. His anger immediately subsided as he now stared down at a glimmering mass laying before his feet.

             
Not once did he look up at the fifteen or so infected that now stumbled out of the run-down bank and made haste towards Mia and I. My friend Elmer had put us into a tight spot, especially since Mia was unable to waddle too quickly. So without hesitation we scurried back the way we had come and towards the safety of the forest, hoping to lose them in the maze of trees and brush.

             
Elmer’s thirst for knowledge is in many way's inspiring and full of wonder in on itself. He is the evidence that this contagion does have the potential to become more than what it is. To become a sustainable and evolutionary life-form that could replace mankind forever.  If only the virus could unravel the complexities of Elmer's mind, to once again become the man that he once was.

             
Just before we were out of sight, I looked back past the approaching herd. Elmer had not moved and continued to stare down at the mass of splintered glass, content with his new infatuation. Although our encounter with him was eerily rewarding for me, it was also depressing that he was completely unaware that we even existed. And as we left him behind, never to be seen again, I wondered to myself, “What will become of him?”

              The days are even colder now, and it seems as if we will never reach Fort Rockland. Mia appears to be slumping into a deep and unhealthy depression. Distant and cold, she is losing her consistently positive outlook on life, and is now lost in a shell of confusing hormones. I fear for her, and for the child she carries. Worse though, is I feel this journey may be our death sentence, one that I am responsible for.

              Today we reached the halfway point, a familiar and yet all too unfamiliar town. A dense fog blanketed the streets and obscured everything within just a few yards. The sun yet unable to pierce through the blanket of death. It was here that some of Mia's depression began to sink into me. The shroud of mists enhanced every little sound, driving fear deep into our hearts. The clanking of a something metal in the street, maybe a can, followed by the sudden shrill of a hissing feral cat. And then, of course, there was the ominous and all too familiar shuffling of necrotic legs. We were not alone, and thankfully that dreadful fog shrouded us from the dead.

             
We moved slowly through the street, making our way to the bridge that would connect us to the next half of our journey. A few times we stumbled too close to the wandering infliction, their necrotic forms billowing out of the icy vapor like ghosts in the night. Thankfully they never saw us as we quickly plunged back into our hazy cloak. It wasn't long, though, before the sun rose high enough to burn away the ground-cover and reveal us to the dead. But, there was no true threat. Only few of them shambled about the streets, weak and disoriented, desperately searching for an easy meal. It was nice to see them this way, almost docile, unable to charge like the vicious beasts that they are.

             
The town was in shambles, obviously it had long been purged by a falling empire. Most buildings were demolished, what rubble remained lay to rest on the outer perimeter of a man-made crater. Those that still stood hung desperately to what supports remained in their brunt out frames. Even the old high-school was nothing more than a pile of rubble, the roof had long ago caved in and now the entire building was slowly being reclaimed by nature. A tall slender birch tree rose gracefully from what was once the schools rotunda. Moss grew up what remained of its brick walls, and the sports fields had become nothing more than a neglected pasture of tall dead weeds.

             
The river, however, still reeked of rotting vegetation and oil, a smell I had long forgotten. The lack of human contact has done little to wash away the imprint that man had made upon it. The muddy water roared over the river-run dam just as they have for many years, spraying a mist of murky rainbows up into the air. The bridge on the other hand, lay beneath the rivers dark and putrid waters. A mass of vehicles lay atop the rubble, just barely submerged beneath the surface of the rushing current. The military had struck hard to stop the citizens from escaping and spreading the plague even further. I'm sure they did the same to all the bridges along the river, a string of graveyards beneath this once great waterway.

             
We needed to get across somehow, our destination was south-east, and the currents were just too damn strong to swim. Not to mention the frigid temperature, already ice is beginning to form at the rivers edges. Our depression was growing with each step we took, I don't believe we had even spoken a word to each other since we reached the desolate town. Still, we pushed on, following the river south in hopes to find another crossing.

             
We didn't travel far, in fact we hadn't even left town before we reached a narrow wire footbridge that was once the only connection to the other side. A two-cent toll was paid just to cross, until the traffic bridge was built. And, like most things, the bridge became obsolete, now it is just another monument to the history of man. Although the structure was overlooked by the government’s bombardment, the years had not been kind to her. A few of the steel cables had long ago snapped, and the span was missing a couple platforms. Even in her disarray she looked to be holding strong and fairly safe to cross. I had little hope that we would find another opportunity to cross anytime soon.

             
I moved out onto the first platform, and just as my weight pressed down on it, the rickety bridge groaned and swayed slightly from the strain. Still, those old bones held strong, and I moved further out. Mia slowly followed behind as Nova pushed ahead of us quickly. She leaped over the missing sections and reached the other side much faster than we would be able too. But, slowly and surely we crept across, holding tight to the railings as she swayed even more from side to side. Our hearts would stop at every twinge of a random wire snapping from the binds of the rusty cables. And the moans and groans of aging steel echoed between the river banks. 

             
The missing platforms were trickier to traverse, and I dared not attempt to jump it, instead I hugged the railing and shimmied my way across. Mia's stomach on the other hand got in the way making it even harder for her to hold on. Nervously I held out my arms, ready to grab hold in case she lost her grip.

             
“Don't look down.” I said, “Just look at the railing, you can do this.” I reassured her from the other side.

             
“I'm scared.” She whimpered.

             
“I know baby, but it's going to be all right. Hell, we've made it this far!” I encouraged her.

             
Slowly she shimmied herself along the edge, staring straight ahead, ignoring the rushing brown current below. She did good, strong and brave. And when she made it across, I hugged her tightly as she hugged back. It was triumph, and it is triumph that conjures hope. I'm not sure how long Nova had been barking before I took notice. It was also then that I could hear the bridge straining even more, the cables creaked, and a repetitive clanging rang out from beneath the scaffold. The racket was getting louder, and rapidly closer, and Nova's ferocious assault instantly escalated.

             
Carefully I peered off the side only to find our greatest fears making their way towards us. Tweaker’s, two of them, scaling the steel girders with ease and rapidly charging on our position. Their skin had long ago rotted away, leaving a blacken layer of scar tissue that seeped a rank and viscous fluid. They obviously have endured better than most of the infected, they were just as lethal as they were in the beginning.

             
“RUN!” I shouted.

             
We ran hard and fast across the other half of the bridge, leaping over the gaps like a herd of deer. The bridge swayed even more beneath our weight, and the loud snap of some of the remaining cables rang out in my ears. However I dared not look back. Reaching the other side, out of breath and slightly disoriented, I pulled out my shot-gun and turned back towards the bridge. The Tweaker’s were now atop the platforms, slowly inching closer towards us, watching us much like the one I had encountered long before. They were anticipating our next move, planning their own strike.

             
Blast after blast I opened fire onto the bridge, but not towards them, instead the cables that barely suspended them above the rushing waters. Instantly, they picked up their pace, leaping towards us with ease. And I continued my barrage as the bound steel slowly began to weaken and snap. Before long a loud crash resonated out across the river just as the rusty arch dropped a few feet and shuddered from the strain. The steel girders at its base buckled under the weight, twisting easily as if they were made of mere clay. Then more of the cables began to snap and the whole structure slowly began to tip sideways before crashing down into the river below.

             
The last we saw of those Tweaker’s were their heads barely bobbing above the rushing waters before they were both consumed by the rushing dam. As we walked away we could still hear the bridges cables snapping, and girders bending beneath the force of the current as it was also pushed into the dam. And although we were safe, the destruction weighed heavily upon me, knowing that it was I who condemned other survivors to the far side.

             
We set camp for the night in an old paper mill not far from the bridge.  Although we knew we had little time to reach Fort Rockland, we needed the rest. Maybe tomorrow we will get lucky, maybe tomorrow a scouting party finds us, or maybe we will even meet a swift and painless death. Maybe tomorrow will be a brighter day. Maybe...