Dredging Up Memories (24 page)

As day began to give way to dusk, I cranked up the van and left the small town behind.

Twenty Weeks and an Afternoon After it All Started

The drive back to the lake felt like it would take years. In truth, it was only twenty or so minutes. By the time I reached the house, the creepy feeling I had in Batesburg was gone, but it never really left my mind for the remainder of the day. Neither would the burning corpses I left behind, many of them still shambling about inside or around that building. 

I thought about the dog. If only he would have let me get near him. I guess I get it—the dead and the living alike had probably scared him in some way or other.

I got out of the van and took a look back in the direction of the small town. Black smoke hung in the sky off in the distance. I wondered if the entire town would burn down, and if so, would the flames end there? Or would they follow me to the lake or head off in another direction altogether? Maybe the world burning itself to the ground wasn’t such a bad thing, all things considered.

Leaning against the van’s side, I closed my eyes. Behind those lids, I saw Bobby and Jake in better times, and then I saw them burning, their skin flaking off, their bones crumbling to the ground, hands seeking something to grip hold of, something to pull themselves along.

Tuck and roll. If only they could.

Hetch lay on the couch while I brought things in and put them away. Then I sat at the table and tried to control my shaking hands.

“Hank, are you okay?”

He had stood and crossed the room at some point and was only a few feet from me.

“Hank?”

“What?”

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I stood and grabbed a bottled water from the counter. I uncapped it and drank half of it down. It was cool and refreshing. I leaned against the counter, staring at and through him, not really seeing anything.

“Hank?”

“I saw a dog,” I said.

“What?”

“A dog. You know, man’s best friend?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what a dog is. What about it?”

“It was alive, and it looked like it hadn’t eaten in months.”

“What did you do?”

“I got some dog food from a store and took it to him, but he ran away.”

“And you’re upset about this?”

“I heard him growling, and I went to investigate. There were biters in the alley—dozens of them. I took a bunch of them out with the machete, but they kept coming and coming and coming. Then I realized…all those biters were the townspeople and probably others who had gone there for safety.”

I took another long swallow of water, almost finishing off the bottle. Hetch said nothing.

“My brother, Jake… He took my wife and son and several other family members, and they went to this cabin we had in Table Rock. When I got there, they were all dead except for Jake and Bobby. Bobby’s my son. Jake left a letter for me on the door, saying he was heading to the Batesburg armory. I went there not long ago. It was overrun with biters.

“But the town…when I got to the town, I didn’t see the first person, dead or alive, at least not at first. It was a ghost town, Hetch. Just the souls of the dead crying out for peace.”

I finished the water off and set the bottle on the counter.

Still, Hetch said nothing.

“I set fire to several buildings, and I watched as the dead burned and collapsed and died, and I mean really died.

“I watched it until half a dozen buildings were engulfed in flames. The sound of the fire was like the rushing waters of a waterfall.”

I licked my lips. I was still thirsty, but I wasn’t going to get another bottle—it had to last longer than a couple minutes.

“As I sat in the van watching the town burn, I had this feeling…this feeling that Jake and Bobby were in that building, just as dead as the other biters, bumbling around, hungry, and on fire.”

“Hank, listen,” he started.

“Where’s your family?” I asked, cutting off whatever sympathetic bull crap he was going to say.

“I’m it, Hank.”

“You’re it?”

“Yeah. I never married, and I don’t have any kids that I’m aware of.” He paused as if pondering whether or not this statement was true. “And if I did have one, well, it’s probably best I didn’t know.”

I nodded.

“Yeah, probably a good thing.”

“Do you really think your brother and son were in that building?”

I shrugged. I didn’t know for sure—I never saw them, after all—but the odds were good if they made it there, then they are as good as dead.

“If you’re not sure, then how can you say for certain they were?”

“I just feel it in my bones. That’s all.”

“In your bones?”

“Yeah, like a gut feeling, you know?”

He nodded.

It was time to change the subject, and I knew very little of the stranger standing fifteen feet away from me.

“Where are you from?”

“Charleston,” he said.

“Big city. Lots of people. How many biters?”

“Too many. When things started going down, things went bad in a hurry. That place is so compact in certain areas—not a lot of folks stood a chance. Those that didn’t get sick were pretty much done in by their dead loved ones. It was bad.”

“How’d you make it out?”

Hetch gave me a sad smile and looked down at his own bottle of water as if it was a beer and there were answers to be found at the bottom of it.

“I got lucky,” he said and took a swig. “My buddy, Dean, and I went fishing down at Wateree, you know, a weekend thing. We left that Thursday just before things went bad.  By the time we started back…well, there was no going back.”

“Where’s your friend now?”

“I told you, remember? I left him in a house a couple blocks away. That’s why I was running away from all those biters.”

“That’s right. He was bitten. And you said you put him down, right?”

“Yeah. Well, I think.”

“You think?”

He nodded uncertainly.

I chewed on that for a while.

It would be another few days before Hetch was at full strength. In that time, we talked a lot—more than I would have liked before. But in that world, I guess humanity didn’t just lie in a living person but in their lives before the world died.

When he was better, we went on our first foraging trip.

“Where are we going?”

“I figure Prosperity or Newberry—one of them are bound to have some food or water. Maybe even some gas.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

Why start lying then?

We loaded the van with guns and ammo and some food, but not a lot—enough for a bite to eat while we were out.

I stared at Hetch when he got in the passenger’s side of the van. He wasn’t Humphrey, and it felt like a gut punch when he sat down.

“What?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Nothing. Just…just a memory.”

“What of?”

I thought about it for a moment. How do you explain this to somebody?

Oh, a teddy bear used to sit there, back before you came around. We had nice conversations and killed a lot of biters together, but she’s gone—yeah, she. Her name was Humphrey and…yeah, I know that’s a boy’s name, but that’s what she said to call her. Yeah, she said to call her that. Yeah, she talked to me. What? I’m crazy? Really?

I shook my head. “An old friend.”

I turned the key. The van’s engine rumbled to life, and I put it in gear. Half an hour later, we passed a Wal-Mart close to downtown Newberry. The college was just down the street. I thought about pulling in, checking out some of the dorms, but what good would that do? Most college kids didn’t have all that much money, and Ramen noodles and beer were gourmet dishes for the higher educated.

Instead, I turned around and drove into the parking lot of the Wal-Mart. The dead were plenty here. I wondered if there were other people holed up inside. With that many biters, there had to be some sort of living meal there, right?

I drove close to the building, and the biters turned toward us. They followed the van as we circled toward the front of the store.

“There’s too many,” I said.

“Do you think there are still supplies in there?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not worth finding out—not right now.”

We drove off, the dead following us the best they could. There was a CVS not too far away, but there were plenty of biters there as well. Unlike Batesburg where the ghosts were plenty and the biters were nonexistent at first, Newberry was overrun with them.

“This whole place is a dead zone.”

“Are we just going to turn back?”

I nodded. “That’s what it looks like.”

We made our way back the way we came, passing the Wal-Mart on the right.

“Hey,” Hetch said. “What if they were distracted?”

“What if they were?”

“One of us can distract them. The other one, well, maybe the other one could get inside and look around, maybe find supplies.”

“How do you propose we do that?”

“Turn around. Go back to Wal-Mart, and I’ll show you.”

I thought he was nuts, but we needed supplies. I did a U-turn. I pulled up along the front of the parking lot but didn’t pull in. The dead—there were so many of them. One wrong move and we were both on the menu.

Hetch pointed. “Over there.”

I looked at the small store in the same parking lot as the Wal-Mart. It was yellow and white and made of brick and mortar and glass. In front of it was a propane tank.

“Do you see it?”

“The propane?”

“Yup.”

“What about it?”

“One shot to the center of it and
BOOM!
that building goes up like a bomb went off. The noise will attract the biters to the building, and we can make a run for supplies.”

I thought about it for a moment. It was worth a shot.

“How good is your aim?”

He frowned. “Eh…not all that great.”

“Even with a rifle?”

“I’m not that great of a shot—you would just be wasting your ammo if I did it.”

“Can you drive?”

This time, his expression was less of a frown and more of a silly,
I deserved that
grin.

“I’m pretty sure I can still do that.”

We traded places. He pulled the van into the parking lot. The dead began to converge on us. I grabbed a rifle from the back and settled it on the edge of the door.

“A little closer,” I said, fully aware the biters were approaching quicker than I wanted them to.

“Take the shot.”

“Get a little closer.”

He eased the van forward, taking us toward the ever-growing horde.

“That’s good.”

He put on the brakes, and I steadied the rifle. The window was completely down, and the dead grew closer by the second.

“Take the shot.”

“I will.”

Another few seconds passed, and I could hear them. Their moans were deafeningly loud.
I pulled the trigger.

Bullseye.

And the tank didn’t explode. There was no big boom and a roaring fire to accompany it. Instead, a cloud of white vapor erupted from it and spilled around the tank about twenty or so feet. But it did draw some of the biters away. Just not enough of them.

I pulled the rifle back into the van and put the window up.

“Get out of here,” I said.

“We can still do it.”

“Get out of here.”

“Hank, listen—”

“No. You listen—get us out of here!”

By then, the first of the horde was on us, their hands smacking the sides of the van, the hood, the windows.

“Yeah, okay, getting us out of here.”

He put the van in reverse and mashed the gas. There were thumps and bumps as he crushed several biters along the way. Back on the street, he started to speed away and then stopped.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“They’re following us.”

“Not if you go. We’ll be long gone before they can walk a hundred yards.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I mean, they are following us
away
from Wal-Mart.”

“Yeah. I get it. Let’s get out of here.”

Hetch rolled his eyes. He actually rolled them. I wanted to lean over and punch him in the head, but he was behind the wheel, and I didn’t think that would be too bright. Then he explained.

“You don’t get it, Hank. If they follow us away from the store, we can get inside easier. The less of them that are near the front of the building, the better chance we have.”

“Is this anything like your exploding propane tank trick?”