Glory (Book 2) (18 page)

Chapter 2

Marianne was in a new town. She didn't know the name. She didn't know where it was. There were the usual bodies lying about. The blood. The crashed cars. They no longer affected her as much as they once did. At least, not enough to push her over the edge
.
To kill herself
.
She was pretty sure that that wasn't going to happen anymore. Suicide was an option that was slipping further and further from her mind.

Though she still hadn't thrown away the bag of pills.

It was somewhat of a small town. No buildings over a few storeys. Two-lane streets. Trees. Grass. Parks.

She kept on walking.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. She took a few deep breaths. She was tired and needed to find a place to rest. She had already been walking for several hours.

When she came upon a small street lined with beautiful houses, she stopped. She felt a moment of awe as she looked at the white trimming around the windows, the wooden porches that led up to the dark wooden doors. She couldn't help but think about how wonderful it would've been to live here - before everything had changed; and if things had worked out a little differently for her.

She pictured herself living there with the pharmacist. If she had asked him out all of those years ago, they might have fallen in love, gotten married, and moved here to raise their family. They could have spent their nights reading on the porch, a love seat underneath them. She could have even had her mother move in with them. There would have been more than enough room. She thought about the parties they could have had in what she imagined to be a beautiful backyard. There might have even been a pool out there. Definitely a nice deck.

Except things hadn't worked out that way. She hadn't asked the pharmacist out. And she wasn't going to be able to now. Her mother wasn't even around. The old woman was dead.

Marianne turned away from the houses. As much as she wished she could have lived in one before, she'd pass by them today. There were too many thoughts attached to them. Too man
y
what-if
s
.

No, she'd keep walking.

She stepped over a little girl. The body was lying face down on the pavement, her hair matted with blood. On the lawn beside her was a man wearing a pair of plaid pants and white leather shoes. His grey hair had been ripped from his head and scattered along the grass.

She patted her purse.

Yes, the pills were still there.

*

It wasn't long before Marianne stopped. Up ahead she could see one of thos
e
thing
s
in the middle of the street. It was digging into a body, head bobbing up and down, fingers searching frantically.

Marianne couldn't move. She knew that she had to, but she couldn't get herself to do it. She  kept staring.

The creature ripped into the body, tore it apart, pulled out its insides. Marianne felt as though she was going to be sick. Yet she couldn't do that, either. She simply couldn't move.

She watched as it took a bite from the dead body, smearing the blood all over its face. Then it dug its hands back into the corpse, squeezed at an intestine and brought it out to look at. It began swirling it around.

Finally, Marianne gasped. It had all been too much.

At that, the creature stopped tearing into the body and looked around. It didn't take long for it to see Marianne. She wasn't hidden. It wasn't dark. Her bright yellow shirt stood out in the afternoon sunlight.

She wanted to run, knowing that it was going to come at her. She had seen the other creatures around. They screamed, then attacked. But her body still wouldn't move.

She waited for the scream. It never came.

Instead, the creature smiled. Marianne could see the white teeth shining through its blood soaked face. Then it talked, "Hello!"

Marianne didn't know what was happening. She had never seen one smile before. She didn't even know that they could. She definitely didn't think that they could talk.

The creature raised his hand and waved. The corpse's intestine swung around in the air.

"Hello," it called out again. "Hellooo!"

Marianne continued to stare. She didn't know what she was seeing, but she knew that it wasn't good. Her body finally started to obey and she began to back up. Not very fast. Her body hadn't ha
d
tha
t
much control yet. She began inching away.

The creature stood up. The intestine dangled from its lowered hand. "Hey, where are you going?"

Marianne kept backing up, still unable to make sense out of what was happening.

"Don't leave!" It started walking toward her.

Marianne was afraid that the creature was going to charge at her, but it didn't. I
t
couldn'
t
. It was limping and could barely walk.

"Don't leave me," it said again.

It was then that the creature looked down and saw the dead body that it had been digging through. There was the piece of intestine that it was holding in its hand as well.

It raised its head and looked back at Marianne. "No, no, it's okay. I'm not one of them. I'm not!"

Marianne didn't know that that mattered. If it was one of them or not, it had been digging in a dead body. She didn't want to hang around to find out why. She continued to back up.

"I'm not one of them," the creature
-
or was it a man
?
- screamed. "Come back!"

Marianne turned around and ran. She didn't know why it had taken this long to do so. She didn't know what had been special about that moment. But her legs started to move.

She hadn't run in years. She could feel her weight shifting from side to side. She was out of shape, overweight. But it didn't seem to slow her down much at the moment. Not when her life depended on it. She ran back around the corner and headed down the street.

She knew that she couldn't keep up running for long, though. Even with her life in danger, her body just wasn't equipped for it.

She looked around for a place to hide.

There were several houses. None as beautiful as the street that she had passed a while ago. Though that didn't matter. She didn't need a beautiful house. She needed
a
saf
e
house.

She turned and looked at the one beside her. It would do. She ran to the front porch and up the steps. She stopped at the door.

Once she did, she realized how out of breath she was. She was panting heavily, her heart racing.

She grabbed for the door knob. It hadn't occurred to her that it might be locked. If it was, she'd have to try another house. And maybe another.

Fortunately, the door wasn't locked. It opened up on her first try.

She rushed into the house, closed the door behind her and locked it. She probably should have looked around to see where the creature/man was, but she hadn't. Nor did she didn't want to look out the window now. If he had seen where she went, she'd deal with it. For now, she felt safe. She leaned her back against the door and tried to catch her breath.

It didn't take long for Marianne to hear him shouting out to her.

"It's okay," he kept saying. "I'm not one of them. I'm not! Come out."

But he had been digging into a body, pulling out intestines, eating them. She didn't care that he wasn't one of them. He wasn't anyone that she wanted to meet.

He continued to scream. "It's okay! Come out. I'm noooot onnnne offff theeeeeem!"

Marianne took her back off of the door. She was scared, but now she wanted to see him. She wanted to make sure that he hadn't seen where she had gone.

She looked through the window in the door.

He was there
.
Right there
.
But he wasn't looking into the house. He was looking down the street, trying to find her.

Marianne watched him pass the house. He limped along. He hadn't let go of the intestine. It dragged along on the ground behind him.

She felt bad for him, but it wasn't enough for her to go out to him. Something had happened to his mind, she knew that. And she didn't think that there was much that she could do to help him. He'd need to figure it out on his own...if he could. If he kept shouting, then the creatures would get him. Though she couldn't worry about that, either. She needed to think about herself.

He continued to shout. He continued to walk. He continued to drag the intestine behind him.

Then he turned a corner and walked out of Marianne's sight.

Chapter 3

Marianne didn't want to see anymore. She didn'
t
nee
d
to, either. The creature/man had gone. He hadn't seen her.

She still felt bad for him, but she needed to think about herself. And spending time with a man who tore into dead bodies and ate them didn't seem like a good idea. No matter what the conditions.

She turned away from the window.

The house was quiet. It looked nice inside too. Maybe not as nice as she could have imagined the houses on the other street looking. But nice.

Her breathing started to come back to her. Her heart beat slowed down. Sweat on her forehead dripped down the side of her face. She wiped it away.

After a moment more, she moved away from the door. It didn't look like anyone else was in here, but she didn't know for certain. She had to check it out.

She came to the bottom of a staircase and looked up it. She didn't want to go upstairs. Not yet. Something about it frightened her, set her on guard
.
She'd go to the kitchen first
.
She was hungry anyway.

She started to move, then stopped; sure that she could hear something.

She listened.

There it was again. And it was coming from upstairs.

Her first instinct was to run, to get out of the house as quick as possible. But if that creature/man was out there, that wouldn't be good. Then again, if one of thos
e
thing
s
was in here
,
tha
t
wouldn't be good...

Her thoughts shot back and forth.

In the end, she didn't run. She stood at the bottom of the staircase and continued to listen.

It sounded like scratching. Except she couldn't be sure. It was hard to make it out from where she was standing. She was surprised that she had heard it in the first place.

Now she needed to think about what to do about it.

She decided to check it out.

She knew that it was an unusual decision for her to make. She should have fled the house. Her curiosity had simply gotten the better of her.

She went up the stairs and followed the sound.

It was coming from one of the bedrooms. The door was shut and something was on the other side. She approached it slowly, then placed her hand on the door knob. Before opening it she said, "Hello?"

The scratching stopped. There was definitely something in  there. Marianne waited for the screaming, sure that it was going to come.

It didn't.

"Hello?" she said again.

The scratching started up once more. Much more rapidly. Something was in there and it wanted to get out. Marianne didn't think it was one of thos
e
thing
s
.

She turned the knob and opened the door. She looked into the room.

Standing there was a dog. By the look in its eyes, Marianne could tell that it was confused. It didn't know who she was. It was also hungry and scared.

"It's okay," Marianne said. The words reminded her of the creature/man outside. She pushed that thought away. "Everything's all right."

She lowered her hand toward the dog. It cocked its head and took a longer look at her. Then it charged. Marianne didn't have anytime to prepare herself. The dog was too fast. It jumped up on her and began licking at her hands and rubbing its head against her body.

"Okay, okay," she said. "Good dog."

Marianne tried to push the dog down, to settle it, but it wouldn't listen. Not that she could blame it. The dog had probably been stuck in this room for days. If Marianne hadn't come by it probably would have died.

No, she couldn't blame it at all.

Marianne pet the dog a little longer before walking it down into the kitchen. She had to get it something to eat. She had to find something for herself as well.

The dog walked eagerly behind her.

"What do you have here?" Marianne asked once she arrived at the kitchen. She walked over to one of the cabinets. "Something good, I hope."

The dog stared at her and started to pant.

Marianne opened one of the cabinet doors. There were a few cans of soup and some beans. There were also some boxes of spaghetti. She couldn't eat the spaghetti. Not hard. And there wasn't any power for her to boil it
.
But the soup and beans
?
She supposed that she could have those cold. She pulled out a can of beans.

Now for the do
g
. She continued her search.

It took her a while before she found the dog food. It was in a bottom cabinet. There wasn't much else in there aside from a few cans of cat food, though she hadn't heard or seen a cat around.

She placed the bag on the kitchen counter top and opened it up. She never really liked the smell of dog food. There was something about it. It smelled like...she wasn't sure
.
Cardboard? Chemicals
?
She winced her nose as she reached in and grabbed a few bits of the food. Then she lowered her hand to the dog. It ate it up quickly. It even licked her hand after. Marianne giggled at the sensation.

"Hungry, weren't you, boy?" She reached behind its ear and started to scratch. The dog loved it. He pushed his neck in further toward her, trying to get a deeper scratch.

At that, Marianne felt the dog's collar. She heard something jingle and knew right away that it was a dog tag and that it would probably have the dog's name on it. She hadn't thought of the dog's name. Not once. She had been too busy looking for food.

Her hands fumbled at the tag. A metal thing in the shape of a bone. Typical. She pulled it closer to get a better look at the name
.
Buste
r
. Typical also. She wasn't really fond of the name. She would have rather had something like...well, she didn't know. But something better tha
n
Buste
r
.

"Buster, huh?" she asked. The dog shifted his head to the side. His mouth opened slightly. His panting slowed. "Buster?"

The dog barked.

Yeah, that was his nam
e
.

"Well, Buster, it's nice to meet you. I'm Marianne." She held out her hand to the dog. Surprisingly, the dog stuck out its paw. Marianne shook it. Then laughed. She knew that it was a strange sight: a middle-aged woman introducing herself to a dog
.
But why not
?
She had seen stranger things lately.

"So," Marianne continued. "I bet you're still hungry. Let me find you a bowl."

It occurred to Marianne to just throw the dog food on to the ground
.
So what if she made a mess
?
It wasn't going to bother anyone. The only thing was that she had never been fond of messes. And even though the world was a one big one outside, she didn't really want to be a part of it.

She searched for a bowl. It wasn't a dog bowl. Just one from the cupboard. One that the owners must have used for soup and cereal. Like the one that she was going to use for the beans
.
She wouldn't eat those straight out of the can.

She placed the bowl onto the floor and poured the dog food into it.

Buster couldn't wait. He (she couldn't think of it as a
n
i
t
anymore; not after knowing his name) shoved his nose into the bowl as she poured. Some of the food bounced off of his muzzle. He didn't care. He continued to bite at the food, swallow it whole.

"Calm down," she warned him. "You don't want to get sick. Take your time."

Buster ignored her.

Marianne poured a little more. Not too much. She knew that Buster would keep eating all that she put out. Dogs weren't like cats. They didn't stop when they had had enough. They kept going and going. She didn't want him to get sick.

She placed the bag on top of the counter.

"That's enough for now. I'll give you some more later."

Buster continued to eat, paying her little to no attention.

"Now it's my turn."

Marianne grabbed the can of beans. They were baked and covered in tomato sauce. She hadn't thought of eating anything like this in ages, but right now they looked great.

She opened a drawer to search for a can opener and a spoon. She found them on her first try. They were in the same drawer, along with the knives and forks.

She took out the can opener and started to open the baked beans. The can turned underneath her grip as the lid splintered open. Next, she poured the beans into the bowl.They poured out slowly.

The sight of them made her feel a little sick. All red and chunky. She tried not to think of all the people she had seen outside. The little girl in the park. The old man on the lawn.

It was food. Nothing more.

She put the can onto the table, then grabbed the spoon. She dug into the beans and brought them up to her mouth
.
No, she couldn't think about all of those dead bodies out there. She needed to eat. She had to chew. She had to swallow...

There was her mother. There was Darren. There were all of the bodies that she had stepped over, stumble
d
i
n
to.

She closed her eyes and placed the spoon against her lips. She couldn't take a bite. Not yet.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. She opened her mouth.

As she did, she opened her eyes too. She saw the beans as she shoved them into her mouth. She felt them on her tongue.

An image of the creature/man popped into her head and that was too much for her. She spit out the beans and dropped the bowl to the floor. It broke into several pieces, startling herself and Buster. The dog scurried away. He only came back when everything seemed to be okay.

Marianne stood over the baked beans. They stretched in every direction at her feet. It reminded her of the streets outside. She knew that she was being silly, but she couldn't help it. It was what it looked like.

Not to Buster. To him, it was food. He began eating it.

Marianne felt the urge to reach down and pull the dog away. She hated seeing him eat the beans. She also hated the noise he made while he lapped it up. It was a soft, squishy sound that made her think again of the all the blood she had recently stepped through.

It was only when she thought of the broken bowl that she actually did. She didn't want the dog eating any of the pieces. He wasn't being all that careful.

She'd let him eat it when it was safe. After all, she was only being silly. And the dog was hungry.

She grabbed him by the collar.

"Whoa," she said. "Hold on."

She tried to pull him away, but he fought back. At least for a bit. She eventually got him away.

She told him to stay back. He did.

Marianne walked back over to the food and picked out the pieces of the bowl. She threw them into the garbage.

When she was done her fingers were covered in a thick film of tomato sauce. Her hands had left little marks on the floor.

She couldn't keep it like that. It was too disturbing.

She looked back to the dog. He was waiting there. She could see the excitement on his face. The expectation.

"I'm sorry, fella," she said. "But I've gotta clean this up."

The dog whimpered.

Marianne turned away from him and grabbed a few paper towels from the counter top. She wiped up the baked beans and threw them into the trash.

It probably wouldn't have been a good idea to let the dog have them anywa
y
, she figured
.
They weren't supposed to eat human food, right?

"I'm sorry, fella," she said again. "I'll give you some more o
f
thi
s
stuff." She pointed at the dog food and noticed her hands again. They were still covered in tomato sauce. Some of it dripped off the top of her fingers. She felt a shiver rush through her body. She quickly grabbed at the paper towels again and rubbed the sauce off of her.

After she had finished, she turned back to the dog. He was still waiting patiently for her. "Okay, Buster. Here you go."

She filled his bowl again. He came charging toward it and dug his nose in while she continued to pour. Marianne laughed.

When she had filled the bowl, she placed the bag back onto the counter top and thought about getting herself something else to eat. Nothing with tomatoes in it. She wasn't ready for that yet.

She found some crackers and peanut butter. That would do for now. Of course, she'd need to find something more substantial soon.

She covered each of the crackers with a tiny bit of peanut butter and made little sandwiches out of them. Then she put them on a plate and took them into the living room.