The Reawakening (The Living Dead Trilogy, Book 1) (26 page)

BOOK: The Reawakening (The Living Dead Trilogy, Book 1)
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Though I had mixed feelings about him now, the one person I found most intriguing as time passed was Thorn. The more time I spent with him, the more intelligent and resourceful he seemed. He possessed a nasty streak, and there were many times he was moody, cold and distant, but he treated Dar with respect, and in time, I came to accept his relationship with her and the unborn child. Unlike Dar, he did not live to kill the dead, but he did it professionally and without remorse, and supported Dar’s enthusiasm for blood. He became her advocate and fiercest protector. When he looked at her, he did so in a reverential way. It eventually led me to the understanding that Thorn had fallen completely under her spell, and not the other way around. Thorn, as well as the rest of us, began to look upon Dar as the modern day Joan of Arc.

My relationship with Dar had undergone a radical change. No longer was I a father figure to her. Our conversations lacked the intimacy and depth that we once shared. We spoke in generalities, never quite delving beneath the surface about the life and death matters that now confronted us. Nor did we speak much about the remainder of our family down in Boston. She completely shed her previous personality and accepted her new role as a cold-blooded killer. Killing ‘fuckers’ became her mission on earth, and everything she did emanated from this zealotry, including her relationship with Thorn. I worried if she might be delusional or sociopathic. What would become of her if and when everything returned to normal? How would she function in civilized society while raising her child?

I wanted badly to grab hold of my daughter and tell her how much I loved her, and try to convince her to change her ways. But I never did for fear of being rejected. It made me realize that Margaret and I had failed miserably as parents. She needed much more than what we had given her. I felt like such a failure in so many ways. I failed in taking care of my wife and son. I failed to prepare them for the scourge that awaited us. None of us had learned any useful skills that would help us survive in times of crisis. We were too busy filling their heads with the nonsensical and trivial: ideas, words, concepts. Our children had attended the most exclusive schools and studied under the best of tutors. But these experiences proved useless when the time came to put food in one’s mouth, a roof over one’s head, or to kill those who threatened our existence.

And for that reason I failed to show Dar my love and affection, because I was ashamed, insecure and certain that it would never again be reciprocated.

We gathered each day to perform our assigned duties. At night we sat together and watched a movie or TV show on DVD. The general feeling amongst us was that our tight-knit community was coming to an end. Thorn and Dar’s outsized ambitions could not be contained in this small farmhouse, especially now that a baby was on the way. Dar’s nihilistic ambitions precluded a life of small-scale farming, solitude, and raising a child. She was a warrior and ready to fight all the death and decay that had descended upon us. Her moral authority and righteous indignation lent her an aura that even I found hard to resist. In the months leading up to spring, she had developed a no-nonsense, take-no-prisoners attitude that calcified with each passing day. All she needed was an army to follow her to the ends of the earth, helping her rid the world of these malevolent beings.

Dar had finally found her calling in life.

Chapter 18

T
HE SNOW HAD COMPLETELY MELTED, AND
the mud season arrived. The rain bucketed down hard and flooded the fields, turning the main road into a raging river. The pile of rotting, dead flesh had by now formed into a liquefied mass of gelatinous human plasma. More of them were coming by on a regular basis, as if passing through town to make their presence known. By my estimation, we must have killed over a thousand of them over the winter months.

We sat around the dining room table early one morning, drinking coffee and nibbling on saltines. Outside, the rain came down in relentless sheets, soaking the cadavers stumbling about and moaning into the wind. The sound of it pounding down onto the driveway filled our ears and interrupted the silence of our meager breakfast. We didn’t have much to talk about; we had run out of things to say, unless it had to do with food. We had no news, no idea about what was going on in the outside world, no intellectual stimulation apart from our own interior dialogue, screaming for sustenance inside these hallowed skulls of ours. And no one, except for Dar, wanted to talk about fuckers.

This fragile, claustrophobic ecosystem that we inhabited was coming apart slowly, and yet completely. And Rick seemed to have less interaction with us as the days passed, choosing instead to throw himself fully into his science. Much of the day-to-day leadership duties fell to Dar, who accepted the role as her birthright. Rick appeared to be losing his mind. I could see it in his eyes and the carriage of his gait. He’d lost a considerable amount of weight, as had all of us, and his eyes had the futile gaze of someone who had witnessed unimaginable horrors, most of which he’d seen inside the recesses of his own soul.

He walked up out of the basement and seated himself at the head of the table one morning. Kate poured him a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal, and then sat down next to him. We watched him sip his coffee and diddle a spoon in his cereal.

“We’re running dangerously low on supplies,” Rick announced.

“How low?” Thorn asked.

“Susan and I had enough food to last roughly two years. To be honest, I never figured on supporting this many people.” He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “There’s not much ammo left either. By my estimation, we may only be able to make it two more weeks the way the dead keep proliferating. I thought that by spring or early summer I’d be able to resume my farming activities and begin caring for the livestock again. But all that appears to be for naught. We’re even running out of gas, and this crisis seems far from abating. In fact, it seems to be getting worse.”

“Then let’s go out and stock up on some more,” Thorn said. “The roads are clear. We can head to the general store and load up on more ammo and food while we’re out there.”

“And I can blow away any fuckers who get in our way,” Dar said, punching her gloved fist down onto the table.

Rick shrugged. “What other choice do we have?”

“None,” Thorn said.

“It’s not the solution. You all must know that it’s a temporary fix to a long-term problem.” We looked around at each other and nodded. “Okay, then let’s grab our stuff. We’ll head out in an hour and see what we can find.”

When the time came, we grabbed our weapons, put on our rain slickers, and headed out. Rick went first. He zigzagged past some slow-moving creatures and reached the barn. He drove the truck out a few minutes later and parked in front of the door. Dar sprinted out and climbed into the passenger side. Out on the street, more of the creatures loitered about. Once they saw us exiting the house, they turned en masse and headed towards the truck. Rick pulled up a couple of feet past the door to allow Thorn and I to pile into the bed. I waved goodbye to Kate, who stayed behind to care for the kids. Once we were all safely aboard, Rick gunned it out of the driveway, sending a bunch of stray fuckers flying into the air. He didn’t hit the brakes as he turned onto the old country road, and it felt as if we were riding on two wheels as he took the corner. The rain pounded down all around us, and the mud flew up in our faces and mouths.

I held onto the side panel for support and peered through the cabin’s window, and saw hundreds of them stumbling up and down the road. The intermittent thump of the truck’s plow crashing into these dead creatures sent chills down my spine. I saw them flying off to the side and into the grove of trees. Many of them got decapitated in the process or had limbs severed from their trunks. Skulls lay crushed and flattened, greenish-gray brain matter oozing out of the schisms in their cracked craniums. The oversized truck tires crushed their spinal cords and caused their skulls to explode upon impact. Upon turning, I noticed that a good many of them were rising up to their feet, gaping wounds and all, and stumbling in our direction. It sounded like watermelons being flung against brick walls—a wet, liquid, squishy sound.

The constant sound of bodies thumping against the plow and skulls splitting under tires filled my ears. I tried humming ‘Born To Run’ to counter the noise, but it didn’t work. I covered my ears to block out the noise, but it did no good. The din vibrated in the base of my spine, and I wanted nothing more than to jump off this truck and be done with it all, let them have at me. But when I stood to my full height and took in the gray, rainy landscape, I saw swarms of them loitering around the general store and lurching towards the truck in desperate yearning. Thorn wasted no time moving into action. He removed the rifle from his back and began to shoot them in the head. I took out my rifle and followed suit, but upon killing one, it seemed that there were five more waiting right behind them. Our actions proved futile.

“Stop your firing! We don’t stand a chance against these numbers!” Rick shouted out the window. “I’m going to drive a few miles down the road and see what’s going on over there.”

“Okay, boss!” Thorn shouted, giving him a thumbs-up.

“Conserve your ammo. Use it only in case of an emergency.”

Rick accelerated out of the parking lot, smashing into a group of dead stragglers. I collapsed in the bed, closed my eyes, and covered my ears with my hands. It was madness. I tried to think of better days. Like the time our family went on vacation to Disney when the kids were much younger. Lazy days spent on Wells Beach, playing in the sand, and then going out for lobster rolls, fried clams and cocktails afterwards. But the hideous thumping noises brought me back to this stark reality. Their restless, ceaseless howling added to the insanity. Upon opening my eyes, I realized that the truck had stopped yet again. The engine idled loudly, rumbling with horsepower and strength. Exhaust filled my nostrils and flew up into the raw mist of the day. Thorn stood in front of me, blocking my view.

“Holy shit!” Thorn exclaimed.

“What?”

“Oh my God. You’re not going to believe this.”

I lifted myself off the bed and took in the full horror of what was happening. I saw an old cemetery and witnessed hands clawing away at the dirt, trying to emerge from beneath chipped old gravestones. I couldn’t fathom seeing anything more monstrous. About a dozen rotting corpses had climbed out of their muddy resting holes and were staggering toward the truck. Dar leaned out of the window and baited them. All they sensed was food—fresh human flesh. I looked inside the truck and saw that Rick was trying to pull Dar back inside the cab. Seconds later, the truck jerked forward and accelerated down the road.

We rode for what seemed like forever. At no point did we fail to encounter these monsters. Their numbers appeared to be growing. By the time we’d circled back to the farm, the driveway had scores of them loitering about and howling. Dar and Thorn began shooting them in order to clear a path to the front door. Rick wielded a M9 Beretta in one hand and his long hunter’s knife in the other. He exited the cabin and began to methodically shoot each creature that approached. I passed through the cleared path, and when I looked behind me, I noticed that it had quickly filled in with the dead. The rain poured down as their wet, fetid hands reached out to grab hold of us.

By the time we’d made it back inside, I realized that I was sobbing uncontrollably. Kate rushed over and held me in her arms. My eyes, ears and nostrils were caked with mud, and my clothes were soaked. Her embrace felt warm and loving, and I luxuriated in it. It had been so long since I’d held a woman in my arms that it felt like a revelation, a new and exciting discovery made by me and me only. I could hear her sobbing against my shoulder, and as I returned her embrace, I could see more of the dead gathering outside.

We sat down at the table. Thorn lit a cigarette and shared it with Dar. I kissed the top of Kate’s head and wiped clear my eyes. We sat quietly for a few minutes, trying to process the plague we had just witnessed. We all knew that we had no chance against that army. It felt like we were sitting here waiting for death to arrive.

“We have no other choice now but to pack our stuff and get out of here,” I said.

“Where do you suggest we go?” Rick asked, gazing at me with a faraway stare.

“I think we should head down to Boston. I’ll bet they’ve set up emergency shelters and soup kitchens. The military is probably patrolling the city as we speak, if in fact these dead things have even shown up there.”

“You think it’ll be any better in Boston? Those hungry bastards will migrate to the greatest supply of food, and where do you think that is? In the major cities.” He put his haggard face in his hands. “Besides, do you really think the U.S. government is prepared to handle a crisis of this enormity? They could barely hold their dicks when that hurricane smacked New Orleans a few years back.”

“True, but we can’t stay here. We’ll be sitting ducks if we just sit here and wait this thing out,” Kate said.

“I beg to differ. I say that we stay here a little longer, inside the fortress, and make sure everything is secure. Then we wait and see if this epidemic burns out, as all epidemics eventually do.”

“Why do you get to decide, man?” Thorn said. “This should be a group decision. Besides, I’m frigging starving.”

“My truck, my gas. Of course, you’re all free to make your own decisions. You’re free to leave any time you want. I’ll not stop you.”

BOOK: The Reawakening (The Living Dead Trilogy, Book 1)
13.8Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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