The Lonely Living (4 page)

I awoke a few hours later, having
dreamed once again of the blue light, but there was something different this
time.  As if I was flying behind the light, my perspective moved with it as it
glided over the trees and moved away from the lake.  I followed it until it
came to an abrupt halt mid air.  It hovered for a few seconds then dropped
rapidly out of the air as if the bottom fell out below it.  I looked down into
a mass of clouds that slowly dissolved revealing a city of lights.  The city
burned bright and beautiful and I couldn’t help but admire it.  Then, one at a
time the lights began to go out and before long the entire city was dark, save
the one blue light.  Strangely saddened, I descended until I was once again on
the ground.  The light began to pulsate then disappeared into a nearby snow
covered building.   Located on the wall next to the entrance was a plaque.  I
approached it and wiped the snow off with my hand.  I stumbled back when I read
it,
James E. Davis High School
.  I was in Burbank.  At that realization,
I woke up. 

I tried to shake it off, but after
a couple hours of tossing and turning I surrendered my attempt to fall back
asleep.  I went downstairs and sat in my chair by the fire.  As I stoked the
flames, I pondered the dream. 

What did it mean?
 

I told myself it meant nothing, but
my entire being betrayed me.  At that point, I didn’t believe anything outside
of empiricism and I definitely didn’t apply profound meaning to mundane things,
but I couldn’t escape the feeling that there was more to the dream.   I began
to question my sanity.  I had been alone a long time, perhaps it was getting
the best of me.  But, do insane people question their sanity?  All I knew was
that I’d had the same vivid dream three times and it ended in Burbank.   Was my
subconscious telling me to go back to Burbank?  If so, why?  I’d been to
Burbank one time since I left and it was burnt out and desolate, not to mention
that my last trip there didn’t go so well. 

The more I thought about it, the
more I decided it was just a vain hope.  I was just lonely and lacking
purpose.  There was nothing in Burbank for me, it was no longer my home and to
go there would waste precious resources.  However, the guilt I was feeling
about the old woman refused to go away.   It gnawed at me like a dog gnaws a
bone the entire next day.  I couldn’t shake the thought that if I’d gotten
there sooner she may still be alive.  Then I dreamed of the blue light again,
this time waking up in an agonizing sweat, despite the chilly temperature in
the house.   I lit a nearby candle and staggered over to the wall mirror.  I
peered into my own hollowed reflection and sighed in resignation,
I have to
go to Burbank.

The next morning a heavy snow began
to fall accompanied by a whipping northern wind.  Any hopes of leaving that day
were dashed when I opened my door to a three foot high wall of snow and near
white out conditions.    So, instead I sat anxiously by the fire the entire
day, coming up with reasons not to go.  I had plenty, chief among them was the
obvious danger I was putting myself in, but not enough to make me repent my
decision.   Eventually my mind drifted to days past.

The snow reminded me of Abbey and I
hated it.  When I gazed out over the windswept landscape I couldn’t help but
picture her happily playing in the snow, tossing handfuls of it harmlessly into
the air and twirling as it fell softly around her.    I thought of her often
and I missed her.  But those memories were never alone and soon I was consumed
by guilt.  In an attempt to distract myself, I pounded the heavy bag hanging in
the den until my muscles burned and I nearly collapsed with exhaustion. 

I didn’t sleep well that night, but
I didn’t dream of the blue light either.  When I awoke the next morning, I was
greeted by a pale uncertain sky and I cursed myself for ever taking weathermen
for granted.   Pale grey skies usually meant more snow and there was no way of
telling when the northwesterly wind would whip up another storm.  However, I
couldn’t take another day like the one before so, despite the uncertainty staring
me in the face, I pressed on.  I ate a quick breakfast, readied the snowmobile
and departed. 

It was bitter cold the entire day
and despite the multiple layers of clothing, the thick ski mask and ultra tight
goggles I could still feel its icy fingers upon my skin, forcing me to stop
periodically and rub my arms until they warmed.  The snow had fallen thick,
rendering it impossible to see the road.  Fortunately, I didn’t need to see the
road, I knew the way and what landmarks to follow.  I moved as fast as I
could.  Keeping in mind the strain on the engine and the distance I had to
travel, I stopped only once to refuel the tank and give the engine a little
break.  It was early afternoon when I reached the peak of the hill that
descended into Burbank and by then the sky had grown more dark and ominous.  

I paused at the top of the hill and
peered out over the valley.  Burbank was a shell of its former self, a winter
ghost town full of empty and dilapidated buildings.  In that moment, I learned
that the outbreak hadn’t just suffocated hope, but nostalgia as well.  Any
significance Burbank carried for me was gone.   My home was no more and would
never be again.

 Beyond the decimation lay the
frozen river, snaking through the valley from east to west.  James E. Davis
High School was not far from it on the west side of Burbank.   That was where
my dream ended and that was my destination.  As I peered out over the valley in
the direction of the school, I crossed my fingers and swallowed hard, hoping
that the dream I’d been having would be just that, a dream, and not a
nightmare.

As I prepared to descend into
Burbank, fear swept over me, but different then the kind I lived with
everyday.   My heart beat with anticipation and I took a long deep breath to
calm myself and gather courage before plunging the nose of the snowmobile over
the hill.  I sped downward, closing my eyes briefly, hoping that when I opened
them again I would be descending upon Burbank as I remembered it.  When I
opened them I was disappointed.  I reached the bottom and slowed down as I
entered the city.  I knew these streets like the back of my hand, so despite
the large drifts and fresh blanket of snow, it was easy to find my way around.   I
cruised slowly, looking in every direction for any signs of life.  There was
none, no footprints in the snow, no winter birds perched on high and no sounds,
save mine.  Everything was still, frozen like the river that once gave it
life.  Like the skulls of the catacombs of some long forgotten cathedral, the
empty homes stared at me with hollowed eyes as I passed.  At that moment, I’d
never felt lonelier. 

I drudged on and soon the faded red
brick of James E. Davis High School appeared in the distance.  I pushed the throttle
and sped up until I came to the front doors.  The glass was shattered, the
hinges bent and busted.  It was obvious that the doors had been forced open
from the outside.  The whole place looked long abandoned.  If ever a place was
haunted that was it.  Too bad I didn’t believe in ghosts.  I glanced at the
ever darkening and foreboding sky and asked why I was there. 

 Determined to search the place and
get out before nightfall, I climbed off the snowmobile, grabbed my rifle and
stepped carefully through the broken doors.  The halls were empty and dark, the
only light coming from the windows perched above the staircases that concluded
each hall way.  I flipped on my head lamp and glanced down each hall.  Although
dusty, the place looked just like I left it the day of the outbreak.   A banner
urging the football team on to victory in the homecoming game was strung above
the main hall.  Lockers still personalized with pictures, magnets or posters of
boy bands marked my passing.  It was as if everyone had simply vanished.

I decided to head to the cafeteria
first, which was located at the end of the main hall at the rear of the
building. It was so quiet, despite walking softly my steps still echoed off the
tile floors.  The surrealism may have got the best of me, as I kept waiting for
a bell to ring and the classroom doors to fly open with masses of students
pushing on to their next class.  But the melody of my steps was the only
sound. 

I reached the cafeteria and pushed
the large swinging doors open.  The tables were folded up and stacked against
the far wall with the chairs stacked against the wall to my right.  Tall
windows on my left illuminated the room, but made everything look like it was
out of a black and white movie.  It was dreary, but at least I could see
clearly, which was far better then stumbling through the dark with no idea what
could be around the corner. 

With nothing of value in the
cafeteria, I headed to the kitchen, in the small chance I would find some food. 
I passed through a short, darkened hallway before coming to a metal door.  The
door had been battered and was badly dented and scratched.   I tried the handle
and it was locked.   I knocked on the door then pressed my ear against it.  I
didn’t hear anything so I knocked harder. 

“Hello!” I said, but again there
was no sound. 

If whatever was trying to get in
there couldn’t break the door down with brute force, then there was little chance
that I could.  Much to the displeasure of wanting to stay quiet I was forced to
shoot the lock off the door.  The shot rang loudly in the small hallway and
then echoed away like sharp crack of thunder.  With the lock broke, I pulled
the door open and slipped into the kitchen.  There were rows of stainless steel
refrigerators, ovens and sinks.  I opened the nearest refrigerators expecting
to find food, but to my surprise it was completely empty.   I opened another
one with the same result and then another.  To my bewilderment all the
refrigerators were empty.  I checked the freezer, it was empty as well! 

Damn it!
 
What the hell
am I doing here? 

I kicked the side of a stove in
frustration and its oven door fell open spilling a pile of trash unto the
floor.   Curious, I examined the trash and found an empty can of cut green
beans, a used tube of tooth paste, two D batteries and empty soda bottles.   I
opened all the others and found they were full with trash as well. 

My heart skipped a beat.  “Someone
was living here recently.  But, where did they go?” I quickly scanned the room
with my flash light, looking for either a hiding place or a way out.  Two
overhead doors were the obvious answer, but both of them were pad locked from
the inside.  The kitchen was rather small and there didn’t appear to be many
places to hide, but I checked everywhere anyway.  Without any luck, I plopped
down on a stool in frustration. 

“Whoever it was,” I mumbled, “is
probably dead anyway.”

I got up to leave and was at the
door when the silver shine of something pulled my attention to the ceiling. 
Hanging above me was an air duct.  I followed it with my flash light until it
disappeared in the wall to my right.  I tilted my head in thought,
Hmm.
 
There’s the air duct,
where’s the vent?
  I pondered that question
for a moment before it hit me.  All the stoves were lined up side by side save
one which was suspiciously out of place.  In fact, it was located on the wall
to my right, not directly below the air duct, but not far from it.  Strangely
intrigued, I hustled over to the stove and pulled it away from the wall
revealing a hole where the vent should have been.   

“So that’s how you got out.” I said
as if I was hunting a mouse.

The hole was narrow, not more than
four square feet.  I bent down and peeked inside.  The air duct inclined for
about seven feet then flattened out at the ceiling.  For how many years the air
duct was in service one would’ve expected it to be filthy, but that one was
remarkably clean and there were white and black scuff marks all over the
metal.  The person who used the air duct to access the kitchen had to be small
and there was no way I could contort myself and make it through.  Still, I took
courage because at the very least I knew which direction they had headed, the 2
^nd
floor boiler room, though the thought of being stuck in that place after dark
filled me with dread.

I stood to my feet, looked at my
watch and sighed.
“
I need to hurry.” 

I followed the duct work all the
way out of the cafeteria until it disappeared in the main hall.  The hallways
weren’t as quiet as they had been due to the breeze that had picked up
substantially since I entered the school.   The sounds of the winds whipping
through broken windows and battered seals made the darkened halls all the more
eerie.  In spite of my uneasiness, I pressed on, rifle at the ready with only
the glow of my head lamp to guide me.  As I moved silently through the dark, I
heard noises from above.  With a calming breath, I attributed it to the wind
and kept moving.  I climbed the staircase to the second floor and much to my
displeasure, it was darker than the one below.   I briefly shined the flash light
down the hallway, it was as mess of clutter.  Someone or something had torn
that hallway apart.   I paused at the top of the staircase.  Now absolutely unsettled,
my gut screamed for me to leave that place.

I’d gone this far.
  I
finally told myself.   
I’m not giving up now.

 
My heart pounding and my
breath short, I urged myself forward.   I tried to keep the echoes of my
footsteps to a minimum as I stepped over broken chairs and overturned lockers.   Keeping
the light low, as to not garner any unwanted attention, I passed open doors and
a shattered trophy case.   Finally, after an anxious trip, I reached the door
to the boiler room.  I shined the light on the door and discovered that the
handle was broken and that the door was cracked open.   I took a step back,
covered the light with my hand and prepared to open the door.   I inhaled one
last uneasy breath then flung the door open with my foot.  A hiss rang from the
dark and I uncovered my light just to see the flicker of ravenous eyes behind
an ethereal face lunging desperately for me.   I fired my rifle and in a
brilliant flash the fiend fell away.  I prepared to fire again as the creature
leaned up, but it fell back dead before I could pull the trigger. 

“That was close.” I whispered.

Just as those words escaped my
lips, a horrible wail echoed through the hallways.  It was the inhuman chorus
of the hoard in search of food.  The frightful melody rose to a crescendo and I
froze in terror.  Then all at once came the sound of stampeding feet from all
directions.  I could see their shadowy silhouettes stumbling toward me like a
rising wave on the sea.   I fired a few rounds to slow them down and then
looked for a way out.  There was a staircase to my right, so I quickly darted
up the steps.  I encountered one of them at the top of the stairs, but I dodged
her lunge and struck her at the base of the skull with the butt of my rifle.
She tumbled down the stairs behind me and I saw my momentary salvation as I
rounded the corner.  There was a metal overhead door that was used to close off
the hall when school was out.  With the horde not far behind, I jumped up and
grabbed the short piece of rope and pulled the door out of the ceiling.  It
came down with a crash and I quickly latched it shut just as the horde slammed
into it from the other side. 

They pounded and clawed it, hissing
and moaning in anger.  Without looking back I sprinted through the darkness in
hopes that the stairwell at the other end would be empty.  Halfway down the
hall, I was tackled from the side and thrown against an open locker, as my
rifle slid away from me.  A very emaciated one leapt on top of me and attempted
to sink its teeth into my neck, but I quickly shoved it away.  It fell on its
back, but swiftly climbed to a crouched position.  Sitting with my back to the
open locker, I reached behind me in hopes of finding something to defend myself
with.  With a ferocious growl, it leapt at me.  I grabbed a heavy text book and
swung it desperately from right to left.  My swing connected with the fiend and
it fell to the side of me.  I hastily climbed to my feet and stomped its head
until it was a pile of goo under my boot.  I marched over to retrieve my
rifle.  When I bent down to pick it up, I realized I was still clutching the
textbook. 

I peered at it,
World Studies
.
 I shook my head.  A
nd I told my teacher I would never use this in real
life. 
I actually smiled a bit as I dropped it on the ground and picked up
my rifle. 

I hustled to the end of the hall
and just as I reached it the overhead door at the other end surrendered to the
horde’s assault and gave way.  Clawing frantically, they peeled back the metal
door like it was the top of an aluminum can then squeezed through the gap,
fighting each other to be the first through.   I slid to a stop at the top of
the stairwell.  Lumbering up the stairs toward me was a barefoot little girl
wearing a tattered and torn night gown.  She was sickly gaunt with thin stringy
hair hanging dreadfully over her face.   At first I was uncertain if she was
one of them, but a glimpse of her dark hallowed eyes revealed the truth. 
Saddened, I took aim with my rifle.  I paused before pulling the trigger.  The
little girl, as gone as she may be, reminded me of Abbey.  All wisdom told me
to pull the trigger, but I just couldn’t do it.  I dropped the rifle from my
shoulder and ran past her down the stairs.   

My moment of hesitation cost me
precious time because it seemed the horde was nipping at my heels as I
scrambled to the first floor.  I rounded the corner, hoping to reach the main
entrance to the school and the snowmobile waiting outside, but much to my dismay
it was blocked by another cluster of the undead.  When they caught sight of me,
they moved almost in unison to attack.  Without stopping, I fired into the
mass.  The bullets did nothing to halt them.  A few fell, but were quickly
trampled underfoot by the unrelenting mass of undead.  Forced to an abrupt
stop, I glanced over my shoulder.  The horde was rounding the corner, hissing
and squalling like wild animals.   Directly in front of me, another mass of
flailing limbs and snarling mouths pressed forward.  I was hopelessly trapped. 
But, I wasn’t going down without a fight.  I stood tall and emptied the
remainder of my clip into the horde.  Ammunition spent, I threw down my rifle
and pulled the Beretta from my thigh holster.  Firing in both directions, I
stepped backward as my pursuers moved in closer.   Barely out of their grasp, I
fell back against a door and to my tempered excitement discovered it was
unlocked.  I quickly opened it and slipped inside a darkened room.  I threw my
body against the door.  Straining with all my might against the onslaught, I
managed to shut and lock it.   Breathing heavily with my back against the door,
I closed my eyes and slid to the floor exasperated.  I sat with my eyes closed
for a few minutes pondering my current predicament.  I was trapped with no food
or water and little ammunition.  Inevitably, desperate thoughts surfaced on my
mind and I decided that I wouldn’t let them take me alive.  Surrendering to
those thoughts, I lifted the Berretta to my head and pressed the barrel against
my right temple.  Prepared to pull the trigger, I whispered three last words,
“I’m sorry Abbey.” 

I sat with the gun to my head for
an agonizing few seconds before dropping it to my side.  I just couldn’t do it.
 I opened my eyes and immediately something caught my attention.   On the
opposite wall was a pulsing blue light.  Bewildered, I stared blankly at it for
a moment before climbing to my feet and walking over to the opposite wall.  The
glow was coming from a small flash light that was sitting on top of a thin
filing cabinet.  The beam of the light was aimed at a nearby closet door.   In
disbelief, I picked it up and examined it.