My Apocalypse (Book 1): The Fall (14 page)

36.

It was slower going than I had thought it would be. Apparently people had thought as I had during the evacuation, and the small highway was choked with abandoned cars. On a couple of occasions we had to stop and push a car off the road so we could get through, but once we got near St. Joseph, the road started to clear.

So did the weather.

We had just started to crest a large hill, the highway passing over a set of train tracks, when Abigail reached up from the backseat and started to slap my shoulder like a maniac.

“STOP THE CAR!” she yelled at me.

“What?” I said.

“Stop, now!” She said again, and opened her door. I hit the breaks, fearing she was going to jump out anyways. The last thing I wanted was for someone to die because they were an idiot, at least on my watch. I think I’d rather have them bitten by on of those creatures.

Well, maybe not.

I threw the car into park, and almost before the thing had stopped fully, Abigail had jumped from the car. I opened my own door and looked over the car at her. She had run to the edge of the hill, looking out over the overpass’s guardrail.

“Oh my god,” she said, her voice a hushed whisper. She began beckoning us over to her, the other hand pointing.

I walked over to her, hearing the others behind me. I was growing impatient with all of these little stops. I was almost to Champaign, almost to my family. I looked at her when I got to her, but she wasn’t looking at me. Her eyes were wide, and full of more fear than I had ever seen in a person. I followed her pointing finger with my eye.

“Juno’s cunt,” I swore when I saw what she pointed at.

“God help us.” Doc said. I heard Samantha start to weep and Timothy try and console her.

There, walking down the interstate, no more than a mile or two from where we stood, was a herd of those things. Larger than any group I had seen since waking, even the one outside the hospital. Thousands of them were slowly making their way West, in the same direction we were going, as if following some unheard call.

They were moving towards my family.

“Get in the car.” I told them all.

“Eddy,” Abigail began, but I cut her off.

“GET IN NOW!” I screamed at them, and my words seemed to have more force than I had expected, but it seemed I got my point across, for they all went. I took one more look at the herd, and my eye was drawn to something, then I lost it. I scanned the whole group, easily a few miles long, without seeing anything

My mind must have been playing tricks on me,
I thought to myself.
That would be ridiculous.

I turned back to the car, shaking my head. Even in the world I lived in now, what I thought I had seen was just too outrageous to believe. But the image, a ghost on my mind, would not go away.

I would swear, amongst all of the zombies in the herd, that there was one larger than the rest, one that had stood above them all, and seemed to point their way to the West.

37.

We had gotten back into the car and continued on our way, no one talking about what we had seen, but I could tell it was on everyone’s minds. My mind kept going back to the image of some mystery creature lording over the dead. I knew there was no way I could have seen what I thought I saw, that it was just a trick of the eyes, but my mind kept it close, telling me that in the world of the dead, anything was possible.

On the Westside of St. Joseph, we came across the remnants of a military blockade. The vehicles were still there, but apparently the owners had long since abandoned them. I decided it would be a good time to stop, figuring maybe something had gotten left behind, something we could have use of.

I sent the others to look through the trucks and handful of tents that still stood, telling them I would join them in a minute. Walking around to the Fury’s trunk, I pulled the key Wall had given me out of my pocket. Once I had gotten the case out of his pack, a small wooden box about a foot and a half long, I sat there looking at it. My eye went from the key to the case, and I would have sworn the key weighed a million tons at that point, impossible to get to the lock. I closed my eye, images of Wall coming to mind, and took a deep breath. I unlocked the case and opened it, then opened my eye again and looked down at the gun inside.

It was beautiful. Even I, a person never to fond of guns, had to admit that.

The pearl handle sparkled in the clouded light, and I traced a finger down it, along the lines of gold inlaid into it. The barrel and chamber were both steel, I could tell that, but what kind I couldn’t tell. Its blackened color was a perfect contrast for the handle and the golden colored hammer. I pulled it gingerly out of the case, noting the small placard that sat above the barrels end. “James Walter Simms, Freeman, 1863” it read, and I smiled, remembering Wall telling me he was named after the original owner. If that man was anything like Wall, then I knew this weapon was carried with devotion and respect.

My attention was so rapt, so invested on studying the pistol that I did not notice the thing creeping up on me till it was to late.

It had crept up under the Fury, crawling upon the ground. With a violent explosion of air, my breath was blasted from me as I hit the ground on my back, the thing having pulled my feet out from under me. The case I still had a hand on flew with me, and I heard the metallic sound of bullets tinkling onto the pavement. I felt the thing crawling up my body, but I was trying to get my breath back, and my arms just would not respond to my commands.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, life returned to my limbs, and I looked down my body. The creature, once a man, was about to my waist, and I felt my gorge rise when I saw his head. Rather, the half that was left. The whole left half of his face was gone, tore off, and possibly chewed off. I immediately started kicking, and called out for any of my companions that could hear me. I pointed the pistol at the remnants of the things head, my heart sinking when I heard the click of the hammer striking an empty chamber.

Of course he didn’t have it loaded,
I thought as I kicked the thing once more. It held on to my pant leg, and I was repulsed when small bits of the things brain and skull dropped out onto my lower body.

I looked around, and saw, only a few feet from me, one of the silvery bullets that had been set into the case. I reached out for it, and cursed when my hand fell but maybe half a foot from it. I cried out, feeling a fire erupt in my hip. The thing had dug its clawed hand into me, trying to retain purchase as I kicked at it. I felt blood rush down my hip.

“God damn it,” I yelled. “Someone fucking help me!”

“Eddy?” I heard distantly. It was Abigail.

I looked back to the bullet, and reached once more.

Yes!
My mind screamed as my fingers closed around it. I brought the pistol and bullet together, fumbling to get the thing into the pistols chamber. The zombie still had its hand dug into my hip, but I had managed to so far keep its teeth from sinking home, having placed my knee into its chest to keep it at bay. I finally managed to get the bullet into the chamber, clicking it into place, when I saw Abigail behind it. She grabbed the creature around the waist and pulled hard, her face straining with the exertion. I thought nothing of it and fired, hitting the thing in the throat.

It relinquished its hold on me and flew backwards, Abigail with it. Timothy and Samantha appeared from around the car as I got to my feet. My vision was tinged red, but if it was due to pain or anger I wasn’t sure. Timothy said something to me, but I didn’t hear him. My focus was completely devoted to the creature before me.

“You… Fucking… Monster…” I said, looking down at it. I heard, or maybe felt, I’m not to sure, a snap inside me, and my foot came up. I slammed it down onto the things chest, feeling its bones give way underneath. Images came flooding into my minds eye, memories of my family, my dog, and of Wall. With every fresh memory, my foot came down again and again. Crunching bone gave way to squashing flesh, which in turn became a wet mess my foot was stamping down upon.

“Dude,” I heard Timothy say into my ear, his arms around me pulling me away from the now dead thing. After a few minutes, my vision cleared and the realization of my actions sat in. I looked up into the young man’s eyes, which were wide with terror. The creature was no more than a pile of shattered bone and flesh, its head now completely gone, smashed under my boot. I spat on it, my lip turning up in a sneer.

“Eddy, we need you.” It was Doc speaking from behind me, towards the rear of the car. I turned to see her and Samantha kneeling there, one on either side of Abigail.

She was sweating, probably from the pain of the wound in her chest. Doc had a rag pushed hard against it, but blood flowed freely from the injury. I realized that the bullet I fired must have ripped clean through the creature and into her, hitting her right in the middle of her chest. I started towards them, and saw Abigail’s eyes fly open, wide with fear. She shook her head, and tried to back up away from me. Samantha held her down, and Doc tried to keep the rag on her wound.

“Never mind,” Doc said. “Timothy, get him out of here. He’s just upsetting her.”

“Doc,” I began.

“Out of here!” she screamed at me. “GET OUT NOW!”

“Come on dude,” the young man said to me, trying to herd me away. I struggled for a moment, and then allowed him to lead me away. I hung my head due to my actions, and in doing so, my eyes fell once more to the creature I had massacred lying there on the street.

38.

I sat beside the tent that Doc Mc Layton and Samantha had taken Abigail into. For awhile I had paced back and forth, hearing the wounded woman’s screams issuing forth from it, but when they stopped I became really worried, and found myself sitting there on a crate. Timothy sat across from me, not speaking a word, occasionally looking up at me. I couldn’t really read his looks, but I didn’t need to. I felt ashamed of myself.

It had been years since I had lost control like that. The last time I did, I had hurt my beloved. We had gotten past it, but only mainly due to the fact I had gotten on a medicine that helped me control it. Well that, and the fact I had given up drugs altogether. If I did the math, it had been a little over three years since I had consumed anything illicit.

I now sat there, on a crate outside of the tent where a girl I had shot lay, possibly dying, and I was holding a joint in my hand.

I didn’t know what was going on. I was sitting here, during the end of the world, my friends all terrified of me, and all I could think about was getting high. What the fuck was wrong with me?

Fuck it,
I thought, popping one end of it into my mouth. I had just flicked open my lighter and struck it, when Samantha opened up the tents door and stepped out.

“And,” I asked, “How is she?”

“She’ll live.” Her arms were covered with blood, and her face was set in a grim look. “Doc is really good. I don’t think we’ll be able to move her yet, but you’d have to ask Doc first.”

“Can I go in?” I asked her.

“Um…” she began, and I couldn’t miss the look between her and her brother.

“Dude, look,” Timothy began, standing up and coming over to me. “Why don’t you and I take a walk, give the girls some time?”

“But,” I started to say. I just wanted to apologize, to tell her that I was so sorry.

“Dude,” Timothy grabbed my arm, this time with more force. “Give her some time.”

I looked between the twins, and as they both looked back at me, I realized what I had done. I nodded at Timothy, and turned away from the tent. I walked quickly, leaving both of the twins behind, leaving them all behind. I walked, kicking myself in the ass for my anger getting the better of me yet again, for it causing fear to burrow into the hearts of my friends once again.

I walked alone once more.

39.

It was a few minutes later when Timothy caught up with me, breathing heavily, having ran most of the way. I was walking around the side of some farmhouse, probably long since abandoned, just trying to find a place to be by myself.

“Dude,” Timothy said, panting. “You move pretty quickly for a guy your size.”

“Leave me alone.” I told him, not missing a step.

“Look, I’m sorry I freaked out,” he said to me, “I just haven’t seen someone snap like that in awhile. Not since my dad.”

That threw me for a moment, and my foot caught on a small root sticking out of the ground. It became clear on why he got scared then. Just that little bit he said told me a lot, more due to the tone of his voice than the words themselves.

“Hey,” he continued, “could you just slow down man? Maybe sit with me for a bit and relax?”

He had stopped walking, so I stopped and turned to look at him. He stood there, in a strangers yard, a yard that’s owners were more than likely long dead, with his arms spread wide in a questioning gesture. I nodded to him, and he did so back, coming up to me and slapping me on the back. We walked a little more, finally settling on a pile of wood, stacked neatly against a small shed.

“You mind?” Timothy asked me, and when I saw he meant the joint, the one I had left behind, I just shrugged. It was a few minutes before he spoke again.

“Damn dude,” he said to me. “You know the good shit, don’t you?”

“Thank my wife,” I replied. “She left it behind for me at my house.”

“Well kudos to her then. You want any?” I shook my head, and he continued speaking. “How longs it been? I’m guessing a while, the way you looked at it earlier.”

“Three years now,” I said.

“Well kudos to you too. Although I do have to tell you one thing:” he continued to smoke, and while I didn’t participate, I figured it a good time for a cigarette. “Rules are different now, man. Shit’s changed. I don’t think anyone would blame you if you partook.”

“What about you?” I shot at him with a
Harrumph
. “What all do you partake in? I know the look of a tweeker when I see one, like I told you before.”

“Sure, sure,” he began, “but I think you’re seeing things a little askew. I take medicine man, or rather, am supposed to take medicine. I haven’t really been able to get a prescription filled here lately.”

“What you take medicine for?” I asked him.

“Doctors told my parents it was Extreme ADHD. The worst case they’ve ever seen. Personally I think they were all full of shit.” He had finished smoking, and tossed the remainder out into the lawn before he continued.

“It’s more like I’m on overdrive, like I’m a computer that just won’t slow down. I multitask like others breathe. Due to it, I just can’t seem to calm down, and my body just keeps up with the mind. I had my adrenaline levels checked one time, when they were running all types of tests on me, and the docs said it was higher than any person they had ever tested before. It tends to make me a little hyper.”

“So you’re not…” I asked him.

“Nope,” He said, smiling ear to ear. “I never had to. Truth is, only thing that ever seemed to help is pot.”

“I know what you mean.” I told him, lowering my head.

“Anger issues, right?” he leaned over and slapped my shoulder.

“That’s an understatement.” I looked at him, and for once saw no worry in his eyes. “I’m sorry you had to see that earlier. I haven’t felt like that for a long time. You said something about your father before.”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing a small indention in the dirt with his toe, “he was a mean bastard, a drunk. He used to come home and be so mad, mainly at me. Hated me for who I was. Worst part of it was that my mom, or Sam, would purposely upset him to deflect his anger from me. He broke Sam’s jaw once, just because she spilled a pop on the floor.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Don’t be dude,” he looked back up, smiling. “If anything good has come from all this shit, it’s he’s probably dead by now.

“I just hope he got turned, and I’ll be able to shoot him next time I see him.”

“You’re a fucked up little man.” I said to him.

“Yeah,” he began, and then I saw his eyes go wide. He was looking at me, or rather past me. I was about to turn, my hand on my pistol, when I felt the cold touch of steel press against the back of my head. I froze when I heard the tell-tale sound of a guns hammer cocking.

“What are you little fuckers doing on my property?”