Wasting Away (6 page)

I
barely slept that night. I heard the cries of children and smelled the fear in
the air culminating with despair and urgency. Every breath, every whisper
brought to light the horrors we had seen. But then, as if timed out to the
moment when sleep finally remedies grief, the gunfire came.

“Why
were some being led to the dome? What was wrong with them?”

“I
think it was quarantine,” I replied. “They had been bitten and were taken away
to keep the rest of us safe.”

“Do
you know what the doctors were doing to them?”

“No,”
I replied. “The dome only allowed a haze of images through the thick plastic.”

“I
can’t imagine what’s going on now,” she said. “I wonder if places like that
still exist.”

“If
they do, I’m sure it’s far worse now.”

A
few lonely cracks snapped through the night. At first, I had thought the dead
were trying to breach the outer fence. I jumped up from the cot and gazed at
all the others who were doing the same. We waited in silence after another
ripple of gunfire. Every second became an eternity.

I
looked out through the flap of the tent.

Machine
guns barked out through the cool air, flashes of fire lighting the ends of
black barrels. Holes tore through the thick canvas, inches away. I ducked for
cover. The dead sounded out with gut wrenching screams. Their voices shook the
compound, rattled the cots and made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I
cowered beneath my cot as the others in the tent began to flee. Their shoes
slapped across the dirt floor, sending up thin wisps of dust in their wake.

I
wanted to close my eyes and make them go away.

The
rattle of weapons came from everywhere as I heard people cry for help through
the shots. A scraping emitted from the far side of the tent and pale white
hands coursed their way under the flap between the supports. My eyes went wide
and I stood as a corpse chewed at the stitching of the canvas and worked its
head under. Its eyes were swollen and bulging out through reddened eyelids. I
darted past overturned cots and made my way to the entry. Three cadavers glared
at me from the outside and lurched forward. I turned in time to see the corpse
with swollen eyes inch its way under the tent.

They
blocked me from both sides as I stood wavering, unable to make a decision. I
knotted up my fists and charged the three corpses at the entrance. Their arms
swung out as I tried to pass, but I was able to duck down and break through as
their fingers dragged along my back and snagged my shirt. I wiggled out of my
over shirt, dropped to the ground, and rolled between their legs.

I
didn’t look back as I fled, keeping low as bullets whizzed through the air
above me. Bright orange flashes came from everywhere as the soldiers opened
fire on the growing mob. The plastic dome at the rear of the camp surged with
bodies and bulged at its sides, threatening to burst. It was hard to tell who
was living or dead as I edged my way through the crowd. I heard cries for help
as I fled toward the front gate of the compound, but my way became blocked by a
horde of surging shadows. The dead were thick, blocking every escape.

Turning
towards the fence at my left, I leapt up on a flatbed truck and across to
crates tied down at the sides. As I swung my leg over the fence through a gap
in the razor wire, I stared at the chaos. Most of the dead moved quickly,
snatching up anything that moved, but some staggered in place as if they were
assessing the massacre. I swung my other leg over and my feet dragged against
the chain-link as I lowered myself down.

On
the ground, safely on the other side of the fence, I turned in the darkness,
trying to gain my bearings. I hadn’t seen much inside the truck when they
brought us there and had no idea where I should go. I took off through the
night. The lights of the compound filtered away as I ran, leaving only
blackness ahead of me. I stumbled over bushes and shrubs that tore at my feet.
I was drenched in sweat. What was left of my clothes clung to my skin. Panic
drove me further and the screams from the compound fueled my need.

I
heard the crack of thunder in the distance. A cool breeze played at the grass
below me. And then it began to rain. A steady drizzle turned into a downpour.
The skies opened up. I stood in place, drenched. I looked for a place to hide
as lightning snapped in the sky.

I
fell into a ditch and crawled along the side of a drain access beneath the
road. The water rushed along the ditch, nearly cresting the banks, soaking my
legs. I stayed there for a long time, breathing heavy and nursing away the
stale thickness in my mouth. I didn’t know how far I had gone or in what
direction I had fled. All that mattered is that I got away.

Chapter 6

Through
sparse, yellow grass, I walked, letting myself dry in the morning sun. A
clearing had opened up along a river basin and I could see a hillside descend
in the distance, giving way to pristine, blue skies.

For
a moment, I thought I was alone there. It was as if I had stepped into an
existence void of the dead, some place peaceful and quiet where I could rest
and let the tension escape me.

Gunshots
snapped me back to reality. Low to the ground, I made my way to the edge of the
hillside and gazed down at the scene that was unfolding.

An
old pickup truck sat with its hood open on a lonely dirt road, smoke billowing
from the engine compartment. I watched as a man tinkered inside, cursing as he
tried to remedy the problem.

A
little farther down the road, I could see the dead. Huddled bodies stumbled to
the source of the commotion. Another man stood alongside the truck, aiming a
rifle at the encroaching dead, shooting the ones that were getting too close.

 From
below the passenger side window, I could see movement. A head poked up for a
second, giving me a flash of auburn hair before it quickly darted out of view.

On
the other side of the road, a mass of corpses emerged, nearly entwined as they
came out through a small cropping of trees. Their screams of hunger were as
loud as if I had been standing right next to them.

I
jumped up from my hiding spot and drew the pistol from my waistband. I charged
down the hill and screamed, “Look out!” as I took aim at the dead.

The
man with the rifle turned to my direction and fired. I dropped to the ground
and rolled the rest of the way down to the barbed wire fence that separated the
hillside from the roadway. In all the commotion, I heard one of the men scream
out in pain. From where I was, I could hear the popping sounds as the dead
began to feast. I looked up and saw the man that had been working on the engine
get pulled to the ground as the other man wrestled with a cadaver, positioning
his rifle in between himself and the creature’s snapping teeth.

I
got to my feet in time to watch as one of the dead pulled the child out,
kicking and screaming through the open driver’s side window. I shot at the
thing and clipped it in the shoulder as it ripped into the child’s neck.

The
child screamed, begging for help. Lured by the pleas, other bodies emerged. The
child was swallowed whole, and pulled beneath the truck.

As
I stood, rooted in place by shock, the dead noticed me and were breaking out in
a shuffling run.

I
tripped as I turned and crawled a few feet before regaining traction. I made
little progress as I scurried up the hillside. I looked back in panic as the
dead struggled with the barbed wire. A few were beginning to flip themselves
over as I reached the top of the hill.

Panting,
I ran as quickly as I could. The dead were coming across the field I had
crossed earlier and were shuffling through, wading in the tall grass. My eyes
went wide when I saw them and I could feel my tongue swell from fear. I went
the only direction I could, following the crest of the hill, out into a
cropping of dense trees.

Saplings
slapped against my skin and pain shot up along my arms as I negotiated through
the underbrush. The dead were far enough away that I could have stopped for a
moment, but fear forced me onward.

The
forest seemed endless as I ran deeper into its embrace. I tucked the pistol
into the small of my back, under my belt, and climbed a pine tree. The sap
covered my palms as I pulled myself upward through the branches. Twigs snapped
and popped as I gained footing, urging myself to climb as high as I could.
Needles poked into my arms and through my pants as I made my way to the top.

When
I was high enough, I waited. I stayed quiet and tried to calm myself and catch
my breath. I could hear them rustling through the forest. Before long, they
were within a few yards of where I was hiding. They sniffed the air as they
twisted their heads, searching for me. I closed my eyes and prayed to whatever
god that would listen. I begged to be spared, I pleaded for them not to spot
me.

I
held still to the branch, not daring to move a muscle. More of the dead were
coming; upturned, decayed faces glanced toward me, looking through me as if I
wasn’t there. Dozens came and went, scouring the forest as I tried to slow my
breath.

I
was exhausted and bruised. Welts were forming on my arms where the saplings had
bitten in. My eyes began to blur from the pain. My hands burned from gripping
the branch. My legs cramped, and I thought about letting go.

As
the sounds of the dead drifted away, I thought of what it would be like to
fall. I imagined myself tumbling through the branches and landing hard on the
ground. I imagined breaking my legs or my spine and being paralyzed as the dead
returned to devour me. I thought of all of those things as I closed my eyes and
fell back into the waiting arms of the pine.

It
was early in the morning when I finally awoke. My body was stiff and contorted.
I was nestled between two branches and my pack was caught on a broken limb. My
head pounded from dehydration and my jaw was sore from clenching my teeth
through the fear.

The
forest was eerily quiet.

I
slowly dislodged myself from the branches and began lowering myself to the
ground. I tried to stay as quiet as possible for fear that they might hear me.

As
dried leaves crackled under my weight, I took to the forest floor and tried to
get my bearings. I had been traveling east and looked to the sun for guidance.
Rays of light poked through the canopy and I squinted to find its source. After
a few minutes, I found the sun and followed it through the woods, hoping to
find the grasslands I left behind. I never would have thought that I’d be
looking for the urban areas again, but at least there I could get away from the
dead, I could hide and have some sense of safety. In the forest, I felt like a
sitting duck.

“My
God, you’ve been through so much,” Mary said.

I
nodded, cleared my throat, and continued.

There
was death everywhere. Bodies lay heaped up along the banks to a small creek that
wound its way through the heart of the woods. By the flood marks, it looked as
if the river had surged, scattering bodies here and there amongst the trees and
underbrush.

They
were nothing but rotten meat and loose clothing now, scraps of dried skin clinging
to exposed bone. It was hard to imagine that these husks were once living
things. That they too had loved and lived; decidedly cut off from that life
when the dead had risen.

This
was the fallout of fragile lives, the blank stare of death that so many
succumbed to. They were the casualties of war with the undead. They were like
autumn leaves scattered across a battlefield waiting to decompose back into
that from which they had come. 

Through
dense underbrush, I emerged. Towering buildings came into view in the distance,
rising over once trimmed neighborhoods. Some of the landmarks were still in
place, but the whole of the city was burned into ruin. It could have been any
place in any part of the world, and it might have looked exactly the same way.

I
carefully made my way through brittle suburbia. I passed a playground,
overgrown and seemingly misplaced in the wreckage. Weeds and grass jutted from
cracks in the sun worn asphalt, clinging to this new life they had been born to.

I’ve
always been amazed at how quickly the blood rinsed away. Of all the life that
spilled out onto the ground not a single remnant remained. When I squinted, the
scenery almost looked normal, and when I closed my eyes entirely, it faded away
into blackness. But, as I looked again, the crumbling world returned. This was
the meaning of misery; this hateful progression of rot, working its way out
through tepid memories.