My Apocalypse (Book 1): The Fall (4 page)

9.

              I awoke with a start, my hand immediately going to my head, which spun and screamed at me in pain.

              “Good thing you woke up,” a woman’s voice spoke to me from the side. The voice was difficult to understand, the accent was think. “We thought we may have had to kill you.”

              “What the fuck?” I asked through the haze of pain.

              “She said we may have had to kill you.” The voice of the man was deep, full of bass and demanding of respect. I slowly opened my eyes, or at least the one. The left side of my head and face was covered in a thin bandage, and the eye on that side seemed to be glued, or taped, down.

              I sat up and tried to swing my feet over the side of the bed, which was in fact no more than a gurney. Nausea and dizziness made my movements slow, and the pain did naught but make it worse. I felt an arm around my shoulders, the touch firm, but delicate. Shaking the cobwebs from my head to clear my sight was no easy feat. I looked around for a moment, but the world was a blur of colors and shapes.

              “Where am I? Where is my family?”

              As the pain in my head cleared some, my vision did also. My right eye had always been my better one, and people and things began to slowly take shape.

              I was in a hospital, of that much I was certain, but it appeared to have been involved in some type of war. People were sitting and lying along the walls, and the stench of sweat and fear hung heavy in the air. Red lights, emergency lighting, lit the place, and from down the hall I could hear a baby crying softly. Two people stood directly in front of me, a man and a woman.

              The woman was slight of build, but radiated strength beyond the physical. She wore small spectacles, perched low on her nose. Bright, emerald green eyes sparkled behind them. Her hair was limp and dirty, though I could still see the fire like color that shone through the grime. She wore tattered clothes, a once white doctor’s smock thrown over her shoulders. The name placard on her chest read Mc Layton. Defiantly Irish I now knew.

              The man was a mountain of a human being. Easily six and a half feet tall, I guessed that my whole body weighed as much as his legs. He wore fatigue pants and an olive t-shirt. The Marine emblem was tattooed on his fore arm. He carried a shotgun in his hands, which compared to his own size made it seem like a toy. I would have normally laughed at the sight, but the pain in my head, and the guy’s immense size, prevented me from doing such. He was the first to speak.

              “I’m Private Walter Simms, though most here just call me Wall.” He smiled and shrugged. “I’m pretty sure you can guess why. Before we get into all the explanations, may I ask you a question sir?”

              “Why not,” I shot back, “but dispense with the sir. I always hated that. My name is Eddy. Not Ed or Edward, Eddy.”

              “That is fair enough, Eddy.”  He crouched down, which brought him almost to eye level with me, just a little below my own.

              “What is the last thing you remember?”

              I sat there a moment, thinking back. The memories came to me in a flash, but what I remembered could not be right. Some sort of dream or hallucination. I shook my head and chuckled slightly. I need to stop watching horror movies.

              “I remember going out of my house to look for my dog. After that, just images, but they couldn’t be real. I remember falling down a hill and hearing what sounded like giant bells ringing, and then I woke up here.”

              “What are the images?” the woman asked me. I shot her a look of pure confusion, not believing a medical professional would want to know such trivial information. Wall reached out and placed his hand on my shoulder, turning me to face him.

              “It’s important Eddy.” He said.

              “All right,” I sighed then continued.

              “I think there was this guy. We fought on the train tracks behind my house. It was weird. If I didn’t know better, I would swear he was rabid. He kept vomiting before hand, then during the fight it was almost like he was trying to bite me. It's like I said before, just images, more than Likely due to me getting injured. I watch too many scary movies.”

              Wall and Mc Layton looked at each other, and the doctor leaned over and whispered something into the big mans ear. I couldn’t make it out, but he nodded and then looked back up at me.

              “What is today’s date?” The look of concern in his eyes was evident. It was that look that made me pause and really wonder what the hell was going on around here.

              “July 6
th
. Why?” I answered his question. Mc Layton put her head down, and then gingerly sat down next to me.

              “I’m so sorry mate,” she said to me, “but it’s not. Today is the 6
th
, you got that much right. May 6
th,
2014 though.”

              That couldn’t be right, I thought, impossible. Ten months! There was no way I could have been asleep for that long. I looked at the doctor, but all I saw in her eyes was pity and sadness. When I turned my eyes onto Wall, he did nothing but turn his face away from my sight, letting his arms drop to his side. My heart started to beat rapidly, my breath coming in gigantic heaving gasps.

              Ten months. Where was my family at? What had happened during that time? Small spots of light started to swim around the edges of my sight, and my chest began to hurt. I shot up off the gurney, and turned to take off down the hall. I felt a great weight hit me from behind and I was bore to the floor. I struggled and fought, screamed and kicked, all to no avail. I felt something stab into my shoulder, and almost instantly my vision swam, and I began to get tired.

              “I’m so sorry mate,” was the last thing I heard before sleep overtook me one more.

10.

I woke some time later, one again on the gurney. Upon sitting up, I looked around me and saw neither of the people that I had spoken to earlier. I got up, and still feeling a bit dizzy, decided to have myself a look around. I needed to find a bathroom. It felt like I hadn’t peed for a year.

              There were dozens of people crammed into the narrow hall, or seemed to have taken up residence in one of the many rooms that sat directly off the hallway. Most seemed content to lay or sit about in various states of squalor. The place reminded me of a bomb shelter. People were injured and covered in filth, and most looked hungry. If this were a hospital, then obviously something had happened to cause these people to live in such a state. Some spoke quietly to others. All seemed interested in me, for they all looked up at me as I passed. My mind spun. Some almost seemed pleased, no hopeful, as they looked up at me. Others seemed fearful; one mother actually snatched her young daughter up and ran down the hall away from me as the child came towards me. I lowered my head and continued on my path.

              I rounded a small bend in the hall and came upon a bank of elevators. The sign hanging from the ceiling told me we were on the fourth floor. Directly across from me was a large set of double doors, heavily boarded to keep them closed. Two men sat in front of them on plastic milk crates, another between them, playing a game of cards. They both looked up at me as I approached, and I saw that each had a gun holstered to their belt, and a large rifle sat on the ground next to the center crate.

              “Umm…” I began, my mind spinning at the thought that I was trapped here. “Where’s the bathroom?”

              One pointed off to the side and laughed.

There it was! The object of my search, a bathroom, was right there, just to my right. I opened the door, unconcerned if there was someone else inside of it. At that moment, I don’t think I had ever seen something so beautiful in my life as that white porcelain of the toilets bowl. I unzipped my pants and began to go, relief washing over me. Then a thought shot into my head.

              Ten months? Who has been cleaning me up all this time? Where was my family? Where they here somewhere, safe, or still at home, waiting for my return? Why weren’t they here, waiting for me to wake up?

              What the fuck was going on?

              The dim light cast an evil looking shadow through the room, but even still, it was enough to allow me to see into the mirror. I almost didn’t recognize the man in the mirror. My hair was shaggy and unkempt, and my beard seemed to have been allowed to grow wild. I didn’t seem to be too malnourished, so obviously someone had been taking care of me. My heart hoped that it was my beloved Crystal, but my head told me that it was a false hope.

              I stripped my shirt off, and twisted the sinks handle. Only a few small drips came out, and I hit the side of the basin, frustrated. I could smell myself, and it annoyed me. Then I heard a small hiss emanating from above me. I looked towards the sound and upon seeing the small automated air-freshener, smiled. I put one foot on the toilet and the other on the sink, and then reached up to it. It took only a single tug to rip the cover off, and inside I saw the small amount of the aromatic fluid used to cover the bathrooms smell.

Better to smell like a hospital than a fucking hippie
, I thought.

I laughed and shook my head, looking back into the mirror in order to inspect the wound on my head.

I gingerly touched the gauze wrapping my head. The touch didn’t hurt, so the pain must have been just a severe headache. I leaned closer and noticed the smallest hint of a scar peeking from under the gauze beneath my left eye. My heart started thumping in my chest as I reached up and started to slowly unwind the bandages. I gasped as I let the thin material fall to the ground. There was a thick pad over my eye, held down with tape. Bright pink lines stretched above and below it, evidence of fresh scarring, wounds that had just recently finished closing up. I saw my hand shake as I reached up and began to pull the tape away from my flesh. When the pad fell away, a gasp left my lips and I turned quickly away from the mirror, tears springing from the right eye.

              The eye was gone. I turned back to the mirror, my vision blurred by hot tears flowing freely. Where my left eye used to be was nothing but a gaping, disfigured hole. The once almond shape was twisted into a thin line, the fresh scars still puffy and swollen. Reaching to the ground, I snatched the gauze back up, wrapping it back around my head, covering the wound. I got it pretty much too where it just covered the eye, and felt like some cheesy character out of a low budget action flick. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself, and with a last glance into the mirror, walked back into the hall.

              And right into some kid.

              He went sprawling onto the floor, and a young girl was at his side instantly, making sure he was okay and helping him to stand back up. As he regained his feet, he shot me a dirty look, and proceeded to straighten out his clothing. It didn’t help. The boy couldn’t have been much older than my oldest daughter, but I was amazed to see that he had more metal in his face than I did in my whole body. He wore baggy, tattered jeans, a thick chain hanging from his belt and leading to his back pocket. His shirt advertised some band I had never heard of, and it was dirty and torn. His dark hair was long, and styled in a fashion that brought images of Goth kids to mind.

              The girl with him could not have been any more opposite. She was pretty, almost preppy. Her long blonde hair was pulled up in a harsh bun, and she wore small glasses. She spoke with quick concise words, but even still I could hear the care in her voice. Her eyes held worry for this young man, and at first I figured that they were boyfriend and girlfriend. It wasn’t until a moment later, when I took a better look at them, that their resemblance was uncanny.

They were brother and sister, or rather twins.

“I am sorry about my brother…” the girl began, still resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“But Wall wants to see you.” The boy finished.

“Okay, lead the way.” I shook my head, and in spite of the situation found myself chuckling. “Do you two do that often?”

“Do what?” the two answered simultaneously.

“Never mind, lead the way.” I waved down the hall in a generalized manor, and took my place behind them as they started away.

We had only gone a little ways down the hallway when the girl turned to look at me and spoke.

“We forgot to introduce ourselves,” she began, “and I apologize for that. My name is Samantha. This moody guy is my younger brother Timothy.”

“Younger.” Timothy harrumphed. “Only by fifteen minutes. And everyone calls me Tim dude. My sister likes to annoy me by calling me Timothy.”

“Your name is Eddy right?” Samantha asked me.

“Yep, that’s right.” I responded. I could tell a lot by they way these two interacted to each other. They may not have been born to far apart, but I saw that the girl held the more responsibility of the two. The boy seemed edgy, almost nervous, constantly looking around and jumping at the smallest shadows. The girl held herself well, with good posture, and walked with an air of control.

“It’s good to meet you.” Samantha said, nodding slightly. Tim snickered again.

“All right guys,” I said, stopping abruptly in mid step. “I am not moving another step until I get some answers.”

“Okay, that’s it.” Tim spun on me, fire blazing in his eyes. “I don’t know what the
fuck
Wall wants with you, or why he thinks you’re so high and mighty, but I personally don’t give a rat’s ass about you. All I was sent to do was bring you to him, and as far as I care, you can go out and jump off a mother-fucking bridge!”

“Son,” I began, a smile coming to my face as his finger jabbed into the center of my chest, “How old are you?”

“Timothy…” the girl began, but he shrugged her away, stepping up nose to nose with me.

“Nineteen? Why?”

“Good.” My fist flashed out as the word left my lips, thumping into his chest with an explosion of released breath. He fell to the ground, clutching himself and gasping for air.

“Please stop.” Samantha dropped to his side, partly shielding him from me. “He meant no disrespect. His mouth just gets away from him sometimes.”

“What’s going on here?”

The voice had come from down the hall, in the direction that we had been heading. I looked to see Wall standing there, his hand resting non-chalantly on his sidearm. His face carried a look of displeasure, but his eyes betrayed the look, holding amusement. He leaned up against the corridor’s wall, and crossed his arms over his gigantic chest.

“Well,” he continued. “I’m waiting.”

“I don’t stand for disrespect.” I told him. I looked towards the boy, finally catching his breath and calming some. “But I think we got everything figured out, right Tim?”

“Right, we're good here." The boys eyes held venom as he looked at me, but they also held realization that he wouldn’t talk to me like that again.

“Right…” Wall drew the word out, and the sound was dripping with sarcasm. He stood back up straight, shaking his head, and continued.

“Look Eddy, I think there’s quite a bit you need to be caught up on. Four months is a long time, and a lot has happened. Why don’t you follow me?”

With that he turned and walked around a corner, leaving me with no choice but to follow him if I wanted any answers.