The Nameless Survivor (Valkyrie) (22 page)

             
He looked up at me, but just for a moment. “He must-been mad, crazy as an old coot, he paid me no mind and was hell-bent on getting that poor old girl. I approached slowly and hollered out, 'Hey, you!' but the man never took a glance. As I got closer, I could see he was badly hurt. Bleeding heavily from multiple wounds, gangrenous I be guess'n, black as night - And that smell. The smell was unlike anything I've ever whiff'd before.”

             
He paused again, taking another sip of his scotch, squinting as he choked it down. He looked back up at me, “Good snort you got here, very smooth.” I refilled his cup to try and keep him talking.

             
“That damned fool, going after Ol' Bessy. His arms stretched out as far as they could, like Frankenstein’s monster, reaching out to grab hold of some poor old soul. So I fired, a warning shot ya know, over his head. But he didn't flinch, mad I tell you, mad like a rabid dog. When he got close enough to actually get a hold of Bessy's harness I fired again. This time - I hit him.”              

             
He paused again, swirling the golden liquid around in the cup. “Hit him square in the right shoulder. Knocked the bastard back a good five feet, I tell ya. But, he did not scream in pain, it was as if he felt nothing. That damned fool stood up again and continued forward, still fixed on getting my old friend. So, I fired again. This time in the knee, and he fell hard.”

             
As he took another sip I pulled out my pipe and packed a good portion of fresh green and held it out to him. He snatched it from my hand with eagerness and generously I lit a match, sparking the dry herb into a fiery glow. He inhaled with great eagerness, but just as fast, he exhaled in a violent coughing fit. One hand clasped his chest, trying to ease the burn in his lungs, as the other covered his mouth, holding back the spray from his tongue.

             
“Jesus,” He said as he continued to cough. “I haven't smoked in over twenty years.” He took another hit, with the same results. “Guess'n my lungs ain't what they use to be.” He said as he handed it back to me and slouched down into his chair, allowing the euphoria to set in. A small smirk broke his aged and wrinkled face, then soon disappeared.

             
“That mad fool. Blown out knee and still no cries, no whimpers. I twisted my knee once, it was the most painful injury I've ever had. Christ, no man can take two slugs and keep going without a hint of pain. Yet that man, that mad-fool simply dragged himself forward by his hands. I don't know what he wanted with her, but I couldn't just sit back and watch. Besides, Ol' Bessy's not just a useful work horse, she's been my friend and companion for many years.” He stopped again, trying to find the words to justify his actions while staring back down into his glass as a single crocodile tear fell from his eye. Mia had come back in and joined us at the table, instantly grabbing up the pipe and taking a few tokes of her own before resting her head in her hands and listened intently.

             
“Go on, Tugger.” I urged him.

             
“There's not much else to say, I took one last shot. Blew the bastards brains out.” He paused yet again, then looked over at Mia then up at me. “I've never killed a man before. It's not like I had imagined. It's like a big rock stuck in my gut.” he sipped more of his scotch, “I covered the body with an old canvas I had lay'n round, and at sun up, Bessy and I headed out towards town. I figure I should just face the music and let the law handle it. Not like I did it in cold blood.”

             
“Was it a Hungry?” Mia asked curiously. Tugger paused for a moment, unsure of the question, then responded,

             
“A hungry? What's that?” He looked back up at me.

             
“Tugger, you really haven’t left your cabin in ten years?” He nodded. “And in that time, until yesterday, you hadn't noticed anything unusual?” His eyes darted back and forth at us, unsure how to respond.

             
“Nah, nothing at all, not till that mad-man of course.” he paused for a second, “What you be gett'n at son?”

             
I sighed, trying to find the words, trying to think of how to respond. I've had yet to break bad news to anyone, especially news like this. I wasn't sure of how he would react, or if he would even believe me. I mean, how could he? How could anyone? I am still in amazement, after all that has happened in the world there are still people who are completely unaware. And just learning of it now would be as if finally awakening after a long coma.

             
“A lot of what I'm about to tell you may seem exaggerated and made up. Trust me, I did not want to believe it at first either.” I paused and stared into his eyes, he waited anxiously. I took a big swig from my glass then continued.

             
“Five years ago, almost overnight, the world as you remember ended. A pandemic is what they first called it, a virus, but unlike anything anyone had seen before. We are among the few people who have survived.” He set his glass down, trying to make sense of it all.

             
“You be shitting me, right?” He said.

             
“I am afraid not. That man you killed yesterday, well, he was already dead or at least deadish. Some called it the Plague of the Dead. Those who unfortunately contracted the virus would die from a nasty infection, but after their breaths cease - they come back. They rise hungry and violent, driven to feed and spread the disease further.” I paused a moment, just for a moment, enough to let it sink in.

             
“Most people never had a chance, it spread so damn fast. It's a good thing you killed it, I assure you. One bite, one scratch, and you would have become one of them.” I stopped, and waited for his response.

             
“Horseshit!” Not the response I had hoped for. “You be telling me that Zombies have taken over the planet? Zombies? Like in them old black-n-white movies at the drive-in?”

             
“In a way,” I refilled his glass. “I know it’s hard to swallow, for you more than anyone. But it is the truth. There is nothing for you in town, no law to report to, no - nothing. Except for the Infected.”

             
His eyes darted back and forth between us in complete disbelief. He didn't say a word, he didn't know what to say. He was in awe of this new information, and being we were still strangers, it only made it that much harder for him to believe. He contemplated my claims for a moment, trying to weed out his own skepticism.

             
“It's true,” Mia interjected, “My Mommy became hungry. She tried to eat me. Daddy too.”

             
“I thought you said your parents were dead.” he asked.

             
“Tugger, everyone is dead. Those people as you see them, are not people. They are nothing more than wandering corpses.” I refilled his cup again. “That is why I came here, to get away from all the panic and death.”

             
“Zombie's ain't real! How can the dead move on their own, it's not possible.” He stammered.

             
“Six years ago I would have agreed with you. But somehow it is the truth.” I advised. “I’ve attempted, when possible, to study them close. Hoping to find an answer to the change.

             
“And did you find what you were looking for?” He asked.

             
“No, nothing new. Shoot them in the head, destroy the brain-stem. The insides are a mutated mess, even if a cure was found, I don't see how the body could sustain normal human functions anymore.”

             
“Shoot them in the head, aye?” He asked.

             
“Taking out the head drops them permanently”

             
There was a moment of silence as we both slowly sipped our drinks, I thought of what else I could tell him. How else I could convince him. Maybe going to town would be his only way of conceiving the situation, he had to see it with his own eyes. But, the dangers were too great, he would never escape a large horde, or even a rogue Tweaker. If he chose to go, it would most definitely be the end of him.

             
“It was the rapture.” I explained.

             
“I am he that liveth, and yet I fell upon death, I now live for evermore, and I now have the keys of hell and of death.” He stopped for a moment, staring into his half empty glass. “Revelations.”

             
I nodded in understanding.

             
“I've never believed much in that holy mumbo-jumbo, hocus-pocus bullshit.” he continued.  “Albeit the book does contain some exciting fables, but if what you say is the truth, than just maybe there is something real to that folklore.” He sucked down the rest of his glass. “End of the world, aye? Shit, and I missed it.”

             
“It was worth missing.”

             
Tugger sat there contemplating, unable to truly make sense of it all. We didn't talk of it anymore that night. He finished one more drink before slumping down in a corner while wrapping himself up in an old wool blanket that he carried with him. Within moments he had drifted off into a confused drunken slumber. Mia and I also headed off to bed, just as my head began to pound repeatedly with thunder. That old hooch really took its toll on me.

conclusion;

              A sporadic shuffle from outside the cabin awoke me from a beautiful dream, one that I was devastated to abandon, but for the life of me cannot remember. Tugger was no longer on the floor, and all his personal items were also gone. Quietly I ventured out to make sure that he was okay. I found him tightening the straps on Ol' Bessy, it was obvious that he was leaving. I hoped he would have stayed a little longer, or at least hoped the he had reconsidered his proposed journey. But, he was a determined man, and would not succumb to a stranger’s hearsay.

             
“Tugger, how about you stay for breakfast?” I offered. He shook his head and look up towards me.

             
“I thank ya kindly, but no. I have a long trek ahead of me.”

             
“Heading back to Mount Pucker-Brush?” I asked, but I knew the answer.

             
“Nope, Stratton.” He said.

             
“Tugger, I beg you not to go. There is nothing there for you, nothing at all.” I urged him.

             
“So you say. You seem an honest man, and I know you have no reason to bullshit me, but I can't believe it. I have to see for myself.” He paused a moment, then looked back up at me, “It's been so long since I can remember dreaming. Never have I dreamt of that man before. Haven't even thought of him in years.”

             
“Dreamt of whom?” I asked.

             
“Just an Ol' Friend, an old geezer like myself. Bob Sprague.” He said with such gloom in his voice. I didn't acknowledge that I also knew this man, nor that he haunted my dreams as well.

             
“Did he say anything?” I asked, and Tugger nodded in discontent.

             
“One word only, 'GO', and I've always trusted his word. So I must go.” He said holding out his hand as a friendly gesture.

             
“Maybe he meant you should go home.” I said, but he did not respond, instead he stared into my eyes with his hand still held out. “I can't talk you out of this, can I?” I asked. He shook his head no. I grabbed up his hand, tightly cradling it within both of mine.

             
“You be careful, Tugger. I suggest you leave Bessy just outside of town as not to draw their attention, but chances are you will run into a few well before. Don't get drawn in by them. Use your rifle as a last resort, right to the head, then haul ass. The shot will attract more of them.” I warned.

             
“I'll swing back through before heading home. Bring you some supplies from town.” He said as he let go of my hand and slowly headed down the old tote-road towards the decaying main highway, which would ultimately become his first awakening. A rotten feeling filled my gut. I wished the old fool would have just listen to me, however if I were him, I probably would not listen to me either.

             
Farewell old man...

              A nasty ice storm roared through the mountains, keeping us inside for two long days. Ferocious wind pounded the cabin and at moments it felt as if the walls would cave in. Venturing outside, even to take a piss, would have been as dangerous as facing a horde of the dead. Ice had quickly encased the landscape, making walking near impossible, which was the least of our worries. Loud cracks and booms echoed about the mountainside as trees buckled under the persistent cold pressures of Mother Nature’s wrath.

             
Mia and I kept busy by playing old board games like Parcheesi and Scrabble. We also found comfort in cuddling up in a blanket together, reading an array of books by candlelight, books left here long before. Tom Sawyer and Moby Dick were our favorites, and we ignored the boring essays on conservation. However the Bible peeked Mia's interest the most, a book I had sworn off long ago, but have recently chose to delve back into its guiding wisdom, for her sake alone. Her love for Jesus, however, only goes so far, she shows absolutely no enthusiasm for Nikos Kazantzakis’s work. Apparently his representation of the God's only son is somewhat of a bore to her.

             
Nova on the other hand found passing the time much harder and cowered under the bed during most of the storm. I am sure the sounds of the raging whirlwind was like that of a million beasts to her ears. Although Mia calls her a scaredy-cat, fear only drives the predator for so long. By the second day, Nova had become more erratic, and viciously defensive.

             
It was a little after noon I believe, Nova stood ready at the door, erect and stiff. She growled menacingly at every little sound and movement, yet Mia and I ignored her - a pups imagination gone wild. It wasn't until her growls quickly transitioned into an aggressive barrage of barks and howls did we rush to the window to see what was amiss.

             
Nothing, nothing but a vast sea of gray as nature unleashed a battery of ice and snow. The forest was also obscured behind the blanket of this winter storm, there was nothing to raise concern. Nothing but an over-zealous wolf-pup. Still, I was on guard, being sure our weapons were available in a seconds notice.

             
Mia eventually crawled into bed and wrapped up in the blanket to take a nap as I cleaned up from our lunch. My bowels ached from the canned fiddle-head soup, yet I dared not venture out in this just for relief. And, shitting in a bucket is not something I would subject the girl too, I could hold it in, at least for a bit longer. That is what I hoped for anyway.

             
A loud crash instantly churned my stomach even more as Mia screamed out and Nova released her rage upon the latched door with a thunderous pounce. Whipping around I found a slug crawling through a now shattered window. Shards of glass shredded the flesh from its arms as the bastard helplessly struggled through the breach. Ice and snow blustered in and spread the faint yet foul scent of the rancid disease.

             
Rushing to grab my pistol another loud and unmistakable crash rung out as the window in the kitchen gave way to two more infected. It became clear that the dead unknowingly used the storm as camouflage. Masking their own howls and moans. If we had only paid closer attention to Nova's keen senses, we may have gained the advantage.

             
They were everywhere, pounding at the door, scratching at the log-walls, and desperately attempting to break through the remaining windows. Mia dashed out of bed and grabbed hold of my waist as I opened fire. The three struggling through the windows were dispatched without hesitation. However more pushed their way past the corpses, crawling in through the windows without a hint of caution. So I continued to fire.

             
It wasn't long before three more were put down and I was quickly reloading. A hair-raising scratching and cracking resonated from the roof as they clawed at the cedar shingles, prying them away. Their climbing skills had drastically improved over the years. Still - never before have I run into a herd like this one, never before have they attacked with such precision and purpose. They were evolving, and I fear that there may soon be a major leap in this virus's mutations.

             
Six, Eight, Twelve more dead, and still they pushed into the cabin. My ammo was rapidly depleting, and Nova continued to assault them with her barrage of wails as Mia clung harder to my legs. Her were eyes shut tight, and I could hear her praying, praying to her beloved Jesus.

             
“Please, please take them away from here!” She cried.

             
Desperately I shot out the remaining two windows, three more dead, and many more behind them. My eyes kept darting to the oil lamp hanging in the corner with thoughts of burning the cabin down, us within it. The infected would burn as well and at least we would not have to suffer under their devilish gluttony.

             
No, I was not about to give up, not that day.

             
Six more dead as I reloaded the last few rounds, and in that instant the hinges of the door broke free. Four ghastly infected fell to the floor, each atop of the other, as a few more stumbled passed them. The cabin was breached, and we were undoubtedly overrun. Once again, there was a moment's pause to consider using what was left in the pistol to relinquish ourselves.

             
My reflexes took over, and I let fly my last five rounds, most of which were dead-shots. Only one slug crawled its way out from under the pile of dead, hell-bent on its ruthless cause. I was out of bullets and my rifle out of reach. I could still hear others on the roof, but my greatest fear was the one inching his way closer.

             
Lost in a stupor, fumbling for my thoughts, Mia rose to her feet and charged the flailing infected with a nearby broom in hand. Releasing a high-pitched squeal, she plunged the handle through the Slug’s skull. It fell still almost immediately as Mia stumbled back and cowered back onto the floor behind me, sobbing like I've never seen before.

             
There was no time to check on her, instead I rushed to grab my rifle and made my way out the door, leaping over the corpses that blocked my exit. The infected were all about the cabin so I rapidly unleashed a volley of rounds, and they fell one right after the other. My attention soon turned towards the roof where four others continued to pry away at the shingles. They too were easy targets, each round punctured their skulls and the ice that had encased their bodies shattered away as they fell.

             
My mind clouded, my adrenaline maxed, and my hate overwhelming. Shot after shot was driven by pure instinct, there was no need, nor time, to breath. My hands moved with intent, my aim adjusting seamlessly and lethally. I was a one man army, an angel of death, and my fiery sword unleashed judgment upon the damned.

             
When the bulk of the horde had fallen, I cautiously searched the outer areas of the yard. Seeking any stragglers I could amidst the stinging ice and blinding snow that whipped about me. There were only a few, lost in the storm, wondering about aimlessly. A few cracks to their skulls with the butt of the rifle was all it took, why waste more ammo. When the area was secure, I headed back into the cabin.

             
Quickly I tossed out the corpses before reattaching the door and boarding up the windows. Mia lay back in the bed, huddled up with Nova tightly next to her. Exhausted from the anxiety, I collapsed down next to her and pulled myself close.  Mia instantly calmed and within minutes she began to drift off. Slowly I followed suit, breathing in her intoxicating scent as my eyelids sealed together.

             
The sun was high and bright the following morning, thankfully the storm had subsided sometime during the night. Cautiously we ventured out to inspect the damage, from both the ice and that of the damned. Mia continued to cling on to my waist, unwilling to let go over her knight as we worked our way past the piles of bodies.

             
The sunlight blinded us as it sparkled and reflected off the quarter-inch of ice that encased everything. The landscape had become a prism, or a three-dimensional kaleidoscope, a myriad of light amongst a scene of despair. Over fifty corpses lay about the cabin, they too encased in ice and sparkling of death. I had estimated maybe twenty or so, but not fifty. The remnants of Stratton I presumed, now nothing more than a display of bloody ice-sculptures. Reluctantly we inspected each body carefully, and thankfully none of them were Tugger.

             
It took a few hours to clean up the cabin and burn the dead before we began to pack for tomorrow’s journey. I am drastically low on ammo, and the cabin will not withstand another assault. We needed to reinforce, resupply, and balance the odds of the next engagement. We were lucky to survive this attack, and I cannot have any more close-calls. I have vowed to keep this girl alive, even if it requires sacrificing my own life to do so.