The Lonely Living (8 page)

I said to myself, “Isaiah, not far
from Psalms,” as I guided my fingers to the middle of the pages and turned
them.  The book flipped open revealing two envelops tucked neatly inside.  I
stepped back in disbelief.  One was addressed to me and the other to Abbey. 

Sam noticed my astonishment.  “Blake,
what’s wrong?”

I stared at the envelopes.  “I…I…there
are two envelopes here.  One is addressed to me and the other…”

“Blake!”  She said excitedly.  “It’s
from—”

“—My father…”

I gazed at them for another minute
before I finally picked them up.  Like I was in a daze I walked back to the pew
and sat down next to Sam.

“Are you going to open it?”  She
asked.

I didn’t respond. 

She put her hand on my shoulder.  “Blake,
you have to.” 

I nodded reluctantly. “I know.” 

I took a deep breath and carefully tore
it open.  Inside was a letter.  I quickly unfolded it and began to read.

Blake,

If you are reading this, I never
showed at the lake house and you’ve come looking for me and by the grace of
Jesus, you have found this letter.  There is so much I want to write and so
little time to write it, so I will be brief.  However, Son, know that all I
write here is from my heart.

  At this moment, I am a man of
regret.  There is so much I should have said when we were together.  Sadly, so
much more then this paper can hold.  I will do my best.  I will start at the
beginning.

 When I found out your mother
was pregnant, I locked myself in my room and didn’t come out for days because I
was so afraid. You represented the greatest challenge I’d ever face and I
doubted my ability to be a good father.  By the time you were due to arrive, I
was certain I would fail. But you changed that.  You don’t know this, but when
you were born you weren’t breathing. I watched helplessly while the doctors and
nurses worked on you. They did all they could, but stepped away in defeat. The
room was in despair, as you were lying still on a little table.  Then, after
every one had given up hope, you let out the smallest cough, and your tiny
chest rose then fell.  No one could explain it and I rushed to the table not
sure if I believed it myself.  When I first looked into your sky blue eyes, I
became a believer and I realized in an instant that everything happens for a
reason and I had nothing to be afraid of.  Blake, you are my miracle.   I know
that you’ve felt a lot of pressure to be like me, but the truth is, you are already
a better man than I was. Helping to bring you into this world will always be
the best thing I ever did.    

You may doubt God and you may
doubt yourself, but even in these dire circumstances I still believe that
everything happens for a reason.    Every tragedy, every adversity, every
success has a purpose.  We can never decipher the purpose of events when we are
in the midst of them, but there will come a time when all will be revealed to
us.  Blake, hold on till that time.  I know you will. I love you Son.

                                                                                                                      
~  Dad

I was speechless, gazing at the
letter, too stunned to even cry. 

“Blake…” Said Sam.

I handed her the letter and she
read it.  When she finished, she threw her arms around me. “You were wrong
about him.” 

“I know…”

With that admission the tears began
to fall.  Sam pulled me in and squeezed me tight.  Gently stroking my hair, she
held me while I mourned the loss of my father.  After a few minutes I pulled
away from her.

“Thank you, Sam.”  I said as I
wiped the last tears from my eyes.

Her lips curled into an
understanding smile.  “Don’t mention it.”

I carefully refolded the letter,
placed it back in the envelope and stood to my feet. “Come on, we need to go.” 

She nodded. 

I tucked my letter and Abbey’s into
an inside pocket of my jacket and then picked up Sam.  I carried her to the
snowmobile.  “I’ll be right back.” 

I went back inside the Church. 
Before closing the doors I took one last look at the Sanctuary.  I glanced into
the darkness of my father’s old office and said softly, “Goodbye Dad.” 

I locked the doors and put the
secret key back where I found it before hopping on the snowmobile and driving
away. 

The fog was more dense than before,
forcing me to drive slowly.  We continued to follow the river, inching closer
to our destination. 

“How do you know where we are in
this fog?”  Sam asked over my shoulder.

“I don’t know exactly,” I answered,
“but when the river opens wide, we will know we’ve reached the mouth and won’t
be far from Little Eagle’s Island.” 

Just then the engine began to
sputter and we grinded to a stop. 

“Crap!”  I said. “I bet we’re out
of gas.”  I climbed off and checked the tank. “Yep.”  I sighed in frustration,
“Looks like we will have to walk the rest of the way.”

“We?”  Asked Sam.

“I mean me.” I answered.  “You’re
piggy backing it though.”  I squatted down a bit and she painfully climbed on
my back.  “Hold the shot gun for me.” I handed the gun to her and she tossed
the strap over her shoulders. “Oh!  And don’t forget your bag.” 

 “I won’t,” she held it tightly, “it
has my insulin in it.” 

I flipped on my head lamp. “Let’s
go.” 

With those words, we began the long
walk back home.   After what seemed like hours of walking Sam spoke in my ear.

“You getting tired yet?”

I lied, “Not one bit.”  In reality
my legs were burning already.  “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” I asked. 

 “Maybe a little.”  She answered. 
After a quiet moment she asked, “Do you ever feel guilty about killing them?” 

“At first maybe, but not anymore.” 

“Doesn’t it make you sad to think
that they were once like us?”  She paused.  “That man you killed, he probably
had a family you know?” 

“He probably ate his family.” I said.
 “They’re not human.  All they want is food.  They don’t sleep, they don’t get
tired, all they do is hunt.”  I paused.  “They have no remorse, so why I should
I have remorse for them?”   

For some reason an image of my
father floated to the surface of my mind.  Sam started to say something but
stopped.  After a few seconds she whispered, “Did you hear that?” 

I stopped.  “Hear what?” 

Suddenly, a loud wail came from the
fog behind us and all at once the woods erupted with the sounds of desperate
feet pounding the earth. 

“Run!”  Screamed Sam.

I charged forward into the fog.  I sprinted
through the woods, doing my best to avoid the devilish claws of branches and
limbs.  The horde pursued us with uncanny fury, their moans and cries echoing
past my ears. 

“Watch out!” Cried Sam.

I tried to stop but crashed through
a small wooden fence, falling forward and getting a mouth full of melting
snow.  Sam was thrown from my back and rolled to a stop a few feet in front of
me.  I scrambled to my feet and rushed to pick her up. 

Sam pointed behind us.  “My bag!” 

I turned around and quickly grabbed
it, then stumbled forward.  The horde was not far behind and gaining on us. 
Breathing heavily with my legs threatening to give way, I pushed forward.

 
We can’t be far
. 
We
can’t
. 

“They’re catching up!”  Sam cried.

I moved closer to the river and
mumbled in desperation.  “Help us Lord…please!”

The cries and shrieks of the horde
grew louder, closer. Like each foot was sealed in concrete I took one heavy
step after another.  My vision blurred and the fog seemed to twirl around me,
but I pressed on.   Despite my best effort, I began to slow down and Sam
noticed.

“Just let me go.”  Pleaded Sam.  “Let
me go.” 

“No!” 

“There’s still time Blake,” she
fired back, “you can save yourself.” 

I gathered my strength and said
forcefully, “No!  I will never leave you!”  I let out a yell and strained
forward.  My pace quickened and my stride lengthened.  Still it was not enough
to put distance between us and them.   Eventually I slipped on some ice and
crashed to the ground exhausted.  I rolled onto my back as the darkness caved
in around me. 

All went silent…

Then I heard a voice and felt
someone tugging at me. “Blake!  Get up!” 

It was Sam.  She pulled me to a
seated position. 

I turned my head slowly. “Go
Sam…I’ll hold them off.” 

She touched me softly on the lips.
“No…”  A tear streamed down her left cheek.  “We’re in this together.” 

I struggled to my feet and helped
Sam to hers.  As the horde burst from the fog like a tidal wave and pressed
forward against us, we embraced…

Was it a miracle?  I don’t know,
but with a sudden thunderous crack the earth below the horde gave way, for it
was not earth at all, but ice and plunged them into the freezing cold water.  They
shrieked and moaned, clawing desperately at each other in a vain attempt to
stay afloat.  It was no use, in a matter of seconds the horde was gone and the
woods was silent once again. 

Sam and I didn’t say a word to each
other, we just stared at the dark, tranquil water in astonishment.  Unbeknownst
to us, we had reached the very edge of Little Eagle Island and that few feet of
land had saved us from joining our pursuers at the bottom of the lake.

  Finally, I turned to Sam. “Let’s
go home.”  I bent down and took Sam in my arms.  I carried her to the front porch
and sat her on the porch swing.  I plopped down beside her, exhausted. 

It was now dawn and the morning sun
was cutting through the fog. 

Sam peered out over the water.
“It’s a dark world we live in, isn’t it?” 

“Yes it is.” I answered. 

Sam nodded regrettably.

I slid my hand into hers, glanced
toward the sky and said, “But at least we’re not alone.”

THE END OF BOOK
ONE

Dear Reader,

You’ve made it this far, but this is not the end of Blake’s
tale of survival, as there is still much of the story to be told.  It seems
that destiny has brought Blake and Sam together, but everything will change
when a mysterious stranger arrives that will test their feelings for each other
and force them to make some life altering choices, choices that will put all of
the living at risk.  Look for more in
The Lonely Living:  Book 2
.

Blake’s tale of survival in a zombie apocalypse is just one of
many and his world is yours as much as it is his.  Connect with him and the
rest of the Living and share your own tales of survival at
www.thelonelyliving.blogspot.com
.

Like the Living at the Lonely Living’s
facebook
page
and invite others to do so as well.

 Contact the author at
[email protected]
(he loves
and values your feedback)

Follow the author and read a few worth-wile stories at
www.ignitethepages.blogspot.com

Finally, if
you liked
The Lonely Living
, write a positive review and give it a good
rating.

                                                          
                                                 ~Gratefully yours,

                                                                                                                             
Sean McMurray