My Apocalypse (Book 1): The Fall (16 page)

42.

The next morning came quickly, and dawned cold and grey. I had only gotten a few hours of sleep, which had been restless, filled with bad dreams. When I woke, most in the house were still asleep, so I went about collecting my things quietly as to not wake anyone else.

I shouldn’t have worried.

I had just finished loading my pack, and was about to sling it over my shoulder, when a voice spoke up from behind me.

“Going somewhere mate?”

I turned and saw Doc standing there, her arms crossed, leaning against the living room wall. Her face was a mask of anger and disappointment, and I found myself speechless under the scrutiny of her glare. I began to stammer, more so when I noticed her own bags sitting on the floor next to her.

“You know you are not going anywhere without us, right?” She asked me, her voice firm, but her lips betraying her with an almost imperceptible smile.

“I can’t,” I began.

“So don’t,” Timothy spoke as he came up behind her, stuffing a shirt into his bag. “You don’t have to ask us, were going regardless. I don’t really think you have much say in the matter.”

“What about Abigail?” I asked Doc. “She’s in no condition to move. She needs you.”

“She’s fine,” Doc said, finally uncrossing her arms and relaxing a little. “Samantha has decided to stay with her, and one of Philip’s friends is a registered nurse. She’s stable and in good hands.”

“Plus dude,” Timothy began, walking over to me and clapping me on the shoulder, “we told you we’d go with you to help you find your family. We haven’t found them yet, so you’re stuck with us.”

I was almost in tears, hearing those words. I didn’t know what I had done to inspire such devotion from these almost complete strangers. Maybe they just needed to go somewhere themselves, I didn’t quite know. I finally nodded my agreement, and we went about getting our stuff out to the Fury.

“Wish you would stay dear,” Dottie said as we carried the last of it through the kitchen. She was up making coffee and toast, doing it over the stove like people did back in olden times.

“I’m not ungrateful for your hospitality Dottie,” I said to her, wrapping her up in a big hug, “but I have to go. People to find and I miss them something fierce.”

“Coffee for the road then?” she asked me as she held out a large metal thermos.

“Fill mine up to, will you Dottie?” Paul said as he came in.

“Going scouting?” I asked him.

“Nope,” he laughed, “going with you. Figured you needed someone to show you the way. Plus, I figured on checking some places out along the way. We’ve picked this area pretty much dry. Need supplies and what better chance will I have?”

“Hey Dottie, are you going to say something to him?” I asked, looking to her to stop her grandson.

“Tried,” she said, turning to fill Philips jug. “I failed at it too. He’s a big boy, can handle himself. Figured the two of you can watch out for each other, and maybe one of you won’t get eaten by them sick fucking punks.”

I saw Philip roll his eyes, and he leaned over and gave his grandmother a quick kiss on the cheek. She grabbed him by both sides of his head, and looked at him in the eyes.

“You come back love, you hear?” she told him. Fear filled her eyes, but I could see she tried to keep a strong face on.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied.

We turned and left the house for the final time.

“Are you sure about this man?” I asked Philip as we finished packing the trunk with our belongings.

“Yeah,” he said, grinning like the Devil himself. “Sounds like fun!”

I closed the trunks lid, and thumped the Fury’s ass end a couple of times.

“We all ready?” I asked.

“Eddy!” Doc hollered. She pulled herself out of the window, sitting on the car door. She pointed back towards the house, her eyes wide. I spun around, my hand falling to the pistol at my side, expecting some type of trouble.

I was so glad I was wrong.

Samantha was coming down off the porch, taking the steps gently and slowly, helping support Abigail. The second woman was pale, and wobbled a little as she walked. When they reached the bottom of the porch steps, Abigail brushed the other girls’ arms off her. She straightened up with a grimace, and after taking a deep breath, began walking towards us on her own.

“Abigail,” I began when she got closer, but the woman hushed me with a look.

“You are not leaving me here,” she said, opening the back door and waving Timothy over. “And don’t try and say anything, I’ve made up my mind.”

I looked over to Doc, who shot me a look that said to leave it alone, then turned towards Samantha.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her head lowered. She quickly slid into the car, shutting the door behind her.

“Fuck me,” I said, looking up into the sky and shaking my head.

“Let’s go people!” Abigail yelled from inside the car, banging her fist against the roof. Doc looked at me and Philip, and the other man started laughing.

“You heard the lady,” he said, patting Doc on the back. “Let’s go.”

I looked west, towards the direction of Champaign, and then slid into the car. I was almost there, almost too where my beloved said her and my kids were at. I reached in my pocket and felt the note she had written me, always close to hand.

I love you baby,
I thought.
I’m almost there.

I turned the key, sighing as the Fury roared to life. The vibrations were a comfort to me, and I was ready to be back on the road, especially when I had so little to go. I put the car in reverse and backed down the drive, swinging it out onto One-Fifty with ease. Dropping it into drive, I started heading towards Champaign.

43.

What the hell do we do now?
I asked myself.

              The smoke was thick in the air, choking our breath and obscuring our sight. But, even through it and the thick haze of ash, we could see the devastation. A series of small craters, easily half a mile wide, lay before us, the remnants of Champaign-Urbana seen on its far side. The closest craters to us had been filled with wood and pitch, and burned hot, but not bright, putting off great plumes of thick, black smoke.

              We stood there, beside the Fury, each of our thoughts hidden from the others. I could see the futility of my journey now; saw how hopeless it all was. There was no way that my family could have survived the destruction I was now looking at. And, even if they had, I could her, if not see, the dead before us, and could only imagine how many there were.

              "Eddy, I'm so..." Doc began, her voice choked due to the smoke.

              "Don't," I said as I raised a hand to silence her. "Just don't."

              The others milled about the small area around the car. Philip was looking intently towards the other side of the crater, binoculars up to his eyes. What he hoped to see through the smoke I did not know, but realized he probably was just doing it to keep himself busy, allowing me time to collect my thoughts. The twins sat on the trunk, talking softly between themselves. Samantha seemed distraught, and Timothy had his arm around her, comforting her. Abigail wept softly in the back seat, curled up into a small ball.

              My mind spun with the implications of what I was looking at. With all that I had heard, all that I had seen, since waking up mere days ago, this almost seemed unreal. Almost like a dream. My thoughts had been solely to make it here, to make it back to the arms of my family, and now...

              I fell heavily to my knees, lowering my head and placing it into my hands. I felt the tears, hot on my face; mix with the layer of soot and ash that was clinging there. I did not care. My family was more than likely gone. I had failed them. I started to weep uncontrolled, new realization finally sinking in.

              I felt a soft hand on my shoulder, heard a voice close to my ear.

              "Eddy..."

I leapt up and flung the hand away, turning to see that it was Doc. I screamed at her, a primal scream that would have made even the mighty Spartans proud, and then turned my fury towards the crater. My cry died out, and here and there, I saw wisps of the smoke clear away, and in that moment, the creatures that lived in the cloud.

They were coming our way.

I reached inside the car and grasped the hilt of my sword, pulling it out. I raised it in a salute at the approaching creatures, whose forms could now be seen clearer through the thinning smoke as they grew closer. I watched the offending monsters draw near, and readied myself for one last charge.

If my family was truly dead, which I now believed them to be, then I didn’t want to live any longer in this world. But I would go out fighting, taking as many of these sons of bitches to Hell with me. I felt hands grabbing me, and had the vague impression that someone was trying to hold me back. But their words fell onto deaf ears, and I shrugged the hands away.

Then a single word cut through my haze, a simple word that calmed me instantly.

“Daddy?”

44.

I was following close behind the other car, the driver leading me back to their “camp” as he called it.

I had been about to charge, to sacrifice myself to destroy as many of the zombies as I could, when I heard a child call me Daddy. I turned and there he was, Seth, my youngest, just standing there in the middle of the road. I had stood, frozen, and stared at him for a moment, and he stared right back at me. Then, when I decided that I wasn’t dreaming, I had dropped my sword and rushed over to scoop him up. He and I both started crying, squeezing each other as if we were going to disappear again.

Then Doc and Philip had called out to me, and directed my attention to a dozen figures that emerged from the brush on the south side of the road. They were all armed, and each of them had their guns pointed at us.

After a few tense moments, in which Seth actually was our rescuer, they had decided that we needed to follow them back to their base. Well, the approaching hoard of undead may have helped to speed their decision also.

And now here we were.

We came around the bend back on to One-Fifty, and down a little ways. The plumes of smoke from Champaign–Urbana could be seen in my rearview. We had just passed the ruined Aldi’s to our left when the truck in front of me turned right. My eyes opened wide as I saw the wall of cars ahead and to our left, circling a still standing Wall-mart, and the fact that we seemed to be driving right towards it. I slowed when I saw the trucks taillights come on, and finally came to a complete stop.

Seth bounced out of the truck, and I immediately jumped out. The man that was driving, a big bearded, tattooed, mountain of a man grabbed Seth up, not really noticing him kicking and screaming at him.

“Let my boy go!” I screamed at him, but was ignored just the same.

There were two large box trucks parked ass to ass right in front of us, and I watched as two of the other people got into them and fired them up. They pulled them apart a few feet, creating a kind of passage between them, and I saw a small group of people coming towards us.

The man seemingly leading them was an older man, slight of build, but strong for his age. He wore simple jeans and a work coat, and carried a rifle under his arm with ease. As he came closer, a gasp fell from my mouth as I recognized the man.

“As I live and breathe,” Carl, my father in law, said. “We had given you up for dead Eddy. Mike, let the boy go, that’s his father.”

Seth rushed over to me the moment his feet touched the ground, and I scooped him up in my arms. I held him there for a moment, and then carried him over to where Carl was talking with the other people. He smiled as I got close, a singularly shocking sight, given the circumstances.

“It’s good to see you Eddy,” he began. “We honestly figured you for dead. When did you wake up?”

“A few days ago,” I said to him. “Where’s Crystal?”

Carl sighed, the sound of it making my heart drop to the bottom of my stomach.

“We need to talk,” he said, “come inside.”

And so, journal, with that I had come to the end of my search.

I wish that I could say that it was a happy occurrence.

Things changed for me and my friends then, coming together with a group so large, and it changed for them also allowing us entrance. It was hard for everyone to adjust in the world of the dead. I wanted so much just to hold my beloved, to lie next to her at night, and to feel complete again. Sit there, like I used to, and watch my children play in the yard. Such simple joys that I realize now I will never have again.

Once again I am the fool.

Tomorrow, journal, I will tell you the rest of my story. Now, it is late, and I am being beckoned to my bed. My candles burn low and I finished my cigarette, so for now I will say goodnight to you.

And goodnight to all those I love.

-
       
The Journal Of Edward J. Eaton II