(Book 2)What Remains (3 page)

Whenever Calise was willing to leave, Maddox
took over. He’d sit and ask me questions. His characteristically
hyperactive talking rambled on and on. Nearly all of the questions
were about the infected. I always answered him as vaguely as
possible. It didn’t matter that he had perpetually acted older than
he really was, he was too young to know what I was forced to
know.

After minutes of his bombarding questions, my
proud son then switched to reading aloud. His book choice was
Historic Rail Lines of North America
. Hearing about trains
didn’t exactly help my quest for distraction from the plaguing
thoughts within. It didn’t matter because, of course, I never
stopped him. I just told him that I walked across some train tracks
and they helped me get home. Hearing this elated the mini version
of me. A few minutes of his excited wondering then ended with more
reading.

Sarah wasn’t there as much as the kids. I didn’t
fault her for this at all. The kids wanted to spend time in there
with me and she needed to keep an eye on other aspects of our state
of living. I’d occasionally ask her about things outside. She was
always deliberately evasive and blamed the tepid response on my
need to recuperate.

Then, during the times I found myself alone, I
just sat there motionless. I fought returning back to a needed
slumber. Regardless of my body’s screams for the chance to repair
itself, I fought it. My true battle was to prevent the dreams from
returning. Because in those dreams, I was forced to relive the
battles I’d survived. The notion of suffering through another one
of those dreams made fighting my injuries worth any risk.

My battered body had been in this bed now for
days. “Atrophy be damned,” I said aloud to myself.

The painkillers coursed through my bloodstream
making me feel better than I probably was. I also genuinely
believed that I was getting better. My mind was fully in favor of
rising from the bed… however, my body had other plans.

I pushed my arms behind me in order to sit up.
The act was incredibly painful. A few minutes of struggle later and
I finally pushed myself up to nearly a sixty-degree angle. Bodily
angst radiated everywhere. I froze there for at least five minutes
just hoping the pain would subside.

At last I was able to throw my left leg over the
side of the bed. My masochistic thoughts teased me for being so
decrepit. Another minute of heavy breathing allowed me to toss my
other leg over. For the first time in days I was sitting up.

My vision became blurred from the onslaught of
discomfort. I closed my eyes and remained still for as long as
needed. If Sarah were to come in the room right then I would have
been scolded. Inside, I wanted to be spared her scorn. The nagging
didn’t bother me at all. What I wanted was to walk out and surprise
the sweet family that had tended to me.

Inch by inch, I eased myself down. The air
outside the blankets was cool. It served as a reminder of the brisk
November temperatures that had bombarded me atop the rail bridge.
My memory foam mattress was still ripe with my residual heat. I
could feel warmth from the area I laid radiate from almost a foot
away.

Then the ground met my feet. During my coma
Sarah had lovingly wrapped my feet in plush fleece socks. I winced
as the carpet compressed the fleece. Collapse seemed imminent. My
arm swung back to catch myself from falling. However, the fall
never came.

I stood on my own power. The stance was a wobbly
one… but I was proud of it nonetheless. Just as I had with my other
movement milestones, I froze, allowing myself to adapt to the new
position.

Gradually I began to hobble. If the zombies saw
my shuffle, they’d likely see me as one of their own. It took me a
few minutes to clear a distance that normally would have been
cleared in seconds. The feel of the cool doorknob in my hand put my
internal teasing to rest.

I opened the door without a sound, braced myself
against the wooden slab, and crept into the dark hallway. Under
normal circumstances the house would be lit with ambient light from
the sun. Things were as dark as they would be before dawn.

The door to Maddox’s room was directly across
from our bedroom. I tested the knob and found it unlocked. Gently,
I eased it open. The room was mostly dark. My eyes had already
adjusted to the light level. I looked around and smiled at the
familiar area. Every wall was plastered with hints of my son’s
hobbies. Posters or cutouts of everything from super heroes to Lego
had covered the light green paint Sarah and I used when we bought
the house almost nine years before. When we painted it so long ago
we used the green color because our son’s gender was to remain an
anxious mystery for a few more weeks.

Both eyes drifted to the carpet as I remembered
that happy day. Maddox was over five months away from entering the
world. I tried to be the super husband then. Regardless of how much
she was willing or capable of helping, I made Sarah sit so much of
the move out. She would inspect the work I’d done on the walls.
With a hand lightly rubbing her belly, she’d point to an obvious
spot and smile. I’d respond with a grunt and stomp over to apply
more paint. My reward was always a peck on the cheek. I would sigh,
then my glowing wife would sit back in the radiant sunlight and
wait to tease me again. Those were happy times.

The room was much different. An old comforter
was tacked over the window. It blocked a majority of the light from
entering or exiting the room. This was a smart move. I hadn’t
considered it before the world went to hell. Days before things got
really bad and I was trapped at work, I boarded up the outside of
the house. I’m not contractor, so the work wasn’t perfect. The
extra layer of protection would keep someone from getting in or out
for a while, but an attentive eye might spot shadows in the room.
Blocking out the light allowed for some freedom of movement
inside.

Only the fringes of the blanket were visible
because the majority of it was blocked by the boy’s vertically
turned bed. On the other side of the propped up twin mattress was
his large dresser. I refinished that dresser for Maddox before he
was born; it was originally mine as a kid. This combined barricade
made the room as safe as it was dark.

Despite the blocked window, the room was empty.
I turned my attention down the hall. Immediately, I felt dumb for
not noticing the pull down ladder, which obstructed the hallway.
The wooden steps grew closer to me with each shuffled step. Beyond
it I could see little detail. Considering the effort Sarah took
with securing Maddox’s room, it was logical to assume she’d treated
the rest of the house equally.

Movement rapidly became easier, the stiff pain
less noticeable with every step. It felt great to be out of bed.
All relief aside, I was unnerved by how foreign this fortified
house of mine actually felt. Soon I noticed the light that trickled
down from the attic entrance. Slats from the ladder were lit from a
faint, unnatural white light.

After another step I was soothed by a break in
the eerie quiet. I heard a dainty giggle followed by the muffled
sound of another voice. The smile on my face was unavoidable. That
giggle could charm even the undead.

The pull down ladder takes up most of the
hallway. Squeezing past while it’s extended always proved
challenging. Each time I had to suck in my gut, cursing myself for
gaining more weight. Navigating through the space between the wall
and wooden contraption was different this time around.

I braced myself on one of the wooden slats and
slipped through with ease. It was at that moment I realized how
much my shape had changed. Ignoring the discomfort, I reached down
and lifted the ribbed shirt that Sarah had put me in in order to
inspect my waistline. Before the world ended, the pants I wore fit
my belt line like an elastic glove. Now, I was shocked at the sag
that drooped from the fabric line. Why did it take the apocalypse
for me to lose some fucking weight?

Another chill worked over me. The air in the
house was brisk. I somehow hadn’t noticed it until my skin touched
the wooden ladder. The thorough nestling I had enjoyed while on bed
rest kept me from feeling how much of the pre-winter air leaked
inside our house.

My neck arched upwards to the glowing hole in
the ceiling. To bend in such a way sent waves of pain through me.
At first the words didn’t find their way out of my throat then on
the second attempt they finally came.

“Hi family…”

“Daddy!” two voices simultaneously shouted from
above. They were quickly followed by a softer shushing sound and
little footsteps pattered to the attic entrance.

Half a second later I saw the smiling faces of
both of my children. Maddox practically hopped down to my level. I
had to take a quick step backwards to avoid his descent. He
immediately embraced me in a careful hug.

I rubbed the back of his hair and tried not to
let on I was feeling any discomfort. Calise carefully cleared the
wooden steps and joined her brother’s embrace. My little angel
predictably lacked the caution Maddox used. Even though this wasn’t
the first hug I’d received from them since my return, it felt like
something I hadn’t done in years. After all, a standing hug is
always better than a prone hug.

Maddox pulled me back so Sarah would have enough
room to step down. The small gesture filled me with pride for how
much the little man tried to help his mother. She placed her arms
around me and rewarded my bipedal rebirth with a kiss.

“Daddy,” she said through a fusion of smiling
and scolding, “why are you out of bed? I thought we agreed you
would take some time to make sure you were ready to be up and
about.”

This was exactly how I expected her to respond.
Predictability in an unpredictable world was comforting. “I’m
alright, Mommy. Calise has told me so much about the games you guys
were playing I just had to check them out.” The little princess
looked at me with a massive grin of baby teeth. I winked at her and
looked back at Sarah. “I’ll be alright, really. There isn’t time
for me to lie around trying to feel a hundred percent.”

Sarah looked down at the kids. Her suspicious
expression indicated that she was on to me. Having Maddox and
Calise there kept me from getting in trouble. This wasn’t the first
time I’ve used their presence as a way to prevent getting yelled
at. Then her expression lightened to demonstrate a humorous
acceptance of the situation. “Come on, baby,” Sarah said in a
smooth and caring tone, “let’s go into Maddox’s room so we can tell
you the new rules of the house.”

My head throbbed from the blast. The area around
me was muted in an unsettling quiet. Unsettling because everything
I could see showed hints of chaos. Fire and debris were strewn
about reminiscently like a brief hailstorm’s disorderly
pattern.

I tried not to look at the human shapes. They
weren’t human anymore. How could something so charred out of
existence be considered human? Whisking fingers of Hell’s reach
concealed much from my sight.

My body burned in homage to this carnage. Air
tainted with smoldering death painfully inflated my lungs. These
tired legs that carried me spasmed with desire for surrender. I
almost missed hearing the rhythmic crunching sound from the
gravel-laden grounded because somehow I was completely deaf. Warmth
from the blood dripping down my ears immediately reminded me why I
could no longer hear.

The searing wreckage of a vehicular blockade
waited ahead. I contorted my stiff body to navigate through it.
Inside, the desire to pass this wall was equivalent to my longing
to be home.

“If I make it past the crossing then I can save
them,” I muttered under painful breaths.

The road was split into sections because of the
never-ending line of metal I had been following. My eyes found
distraction in the rail for a moment, diverting my attention long
enough to miss the massacre of obstacles.

A steaming pulp of torso was impaled on the car
I leaned against. An arm was still attached to the hunk of
humanity. It twitched spasmodically against the steering wheel
inside. Muted honks from the car’s horn punctuated the roar of my
deafness. I could hardly believe that God had allowed what I was
seeing to be reality.

Just beyond the crossing, a ghoulish figure
awaited me. It looked like a man but I knew it could not be.
Bubbling flesh covered its feral visage. Flames trailed from the
beast’s hair down to its melting clothing. I anticipated attack. My
Kukri was gripped tightly in my tired digits.

Then it stopped. It raised a steaming hand and
pointed directly at me. Charring flesh flaked off its finger
exposing bone. I was frozen with fear.

Its mouth opened, and smoke plumed from its
jaws. The smoldering demon rushed at me suddenly. My brain screamed
for me to use the Kukri in defense, but I stood still as the
hellion descended upon my soul.

Now awake from the nightmare, my eyes shot open
in the darkness. Sweat dampened the soft surroundings of my bed. I
was convinced that dreams like the one I had just escaped would
never leave me. It wasn’t enough that I had to actually fight
through such madness in order to reach home. Now that I had reached
my destination, I knew the memories of what I witnessed along the
way would forever be the subject of my mind’s twisted
self-loathing.

Our home had been converted into a desperate
homage to paranoia. We started our family in a quaint, three
bedroom ranch house, and had grown and flourished there. The need
to move onto something bigger had existed for a few years when the
pandemic hit. Even though the primary excuse not to leave was
always finances, the real reason was that it was our home.