The Phoenix Trilogy (Book 1): World On Fire (4 page)

    "Oh
yeah, that's good, that's great. I was almost worried I was getting used to
this.", speaking aloud to herself as she wiped the vomit from her mouth,
Natalie closed her eyes. She knew what she had come here to do was still ahead
of her. Dealing with the zombies was terrifying in its own right, but you could
picture them as
beasts
. It was easy to forget they were people
once, but the man upstairs was all too human. She needed to handle this, or
else his image would stick with her forever.

    Taking
the staircase back up, she felt heavy. Her limbs didn't want to respond, as if
every part of her was trying to say it was okay to leave. Growling quietly to
herself, she pressed on. All too soon, she stood at the door to what must have
been the master bedroom. Her mind raced with pictures of what it would look
like, each more gruesome and nauseating than the last. With her hand shaking at
the doorknob, she pushed open the door to find what awaited her inside.

    It
wasn't what she expected. In her head, there was going to be blood everywhere,
brains and bone fragments blown across the floor. The truth was almost too
simple. He had shot through his temple, and while there was an undeniable pool of
blood and dusted red across the wall, there wasn't much mess beside that. Even
the smell of death was relatively faint, thanks to the open window nearby. You
could almost have mistaken the scene for peaceful.

    Up
close, she could see for the first time how haggard he really was. At a
distance he had seemed well built, but now it was obvious that the muscles were
loose and almost flabby. He hadn't been in good shape for a long time. She felt
the same pang of sympathy again, and began the process of covering him up.
Whoever this man had been before the outbreak was dead a long time ago. What
was left was barely more than a shell.

    She
would bury him if she could, but she wasn't sure if there was a way outside
that didn't involve either the ladder or tearing down boards. Exploring the
house for a safe exit, she found a hefty stockpile of supplies. Knowing that he
was well off but still as worn down as he had been made her feel worse. He
hadn't chosen to kill himself as a last resort. He chose it because he would
rather die than fight to see another day.

    Continuing
her search, she found that the back door wasn't sealed shut. Instead, it had a
crossbar built over it, secured with heavy metal brackets to the wall. He had
left himself a way out after all. It felt like it hadn't been touched in weeks,
and it took a minute to force it out of place.

    A
quick check outside revealed his fence was in good shape and the backyard to be
clear. It was empty and overgrown, save for a shovel resting near... something.
Natalie couldn't make out what she was looking at, but it seemed to be old and
stained. A sheet, maybe. It was definitely cloth, wrapped loosely around a
sizeable object. A few steps closer, and the smell of rot confirmed what it
was.

    Natalie
had been right about his daughter not surviving. He had brought her out here to
bury her, but he hadn't been able to do it. He had the shovel laid out beside
the body, and at some point, he had just walked away and shut the door behind
him. Natalie felt her heart tear in two different directions as she examined
the scene before her.

    
He
should have buried her. He was mourning, but he should have done it anyway.
Back and forth she bounced, finally deciding that it didn't matter. He couldn't
bury her, but she could. She would do it for both of them. That's what good
people did, they honored their dead. Or at least in Natalie's case, they did
the best they could.

    As
the hours passed, Natalie was only vaguely aware of the time. It wasn't until
after she finished the job that she realized how much of the day had
disappeared. She'd dug one hole for both bodies, thinking it would be fitting
for father and daughter to be interred together. There was no wood to make a
cross, but she was able to find a handful of wildflowers to place on their
grave.

    It
wasn't much, but it was all she had. Natalie was the only person who would ever
know this story, and she was content to put it to rest. They may have died, but
at least they were together now. That had to count for something.

    "I'm
sorry. I wish there was more I could do." The wind was whistling, and the
sun had started to go down. It had been a long day. Resting beside the mound of
freshly piled dirt, Natalie continued to talk aloud.

     "I
don't know if you can hear me. I've never really been one to believe in a
higher power, but it feels good to think that maybe you can. I just wanted to
tell you, I'm sorry about your daughter." At this, Natalie bit her lip.
Guilt had been gnawing at her for some time now about her part in his suicide.

    "I'm
sorry I didn't help you. I was just afraid. I didn't think I could do anything,
so I stayed inside. Maybe I could have made a difference. Maybe I would have
gotten myself killed. I can't take it back now, but I am sorry that this
happened the way it did." Her words trailed off, and she felt tears slip
down her face. It had been such a long time since she'd let herself cry, she'd
almost forgotten what it felt like.

    She
was frustrated, with herself and with the man whose name she had never known.
It felt like there were a thousand things she wanted to say, and no idea how to
start with any of them.

    Feeling
at a loss for words and exhausted from her day, she crawled back into the house
to rest
.
The
smell coming from the mess she'd left in the living room was revolting
, and both of the bedrooms upstairs felt
alien to her. Sleep in a dead girl's room, or sleep in the room her father shot
himself in. She settled on using a couch in the
adjacent
den, removed from the rest of the memories attached to this place.

    As
she was starting to get comfortable, her heart sank. Her journal was in the
other house. She knew there was almost no chance that anything would happen to
it, but going to sleep without it made her nervous.

    It
was still light enough to see, and it would only take her a minute to retrieve
it. She decided it was best to go now, then come back to sleep. Besides that,
it reminded her that she needed to pull the ladder inside when she wasn't using
it. She'd have to remember to do that when she returned.

    Finding
herself outside once again, Natalie couldn't help but notice that the little
cul-de-sac still looked cheery and unspoiled in the waning daylight. Jogging
across the street and up the driveway, she could almost forget all that had
happened, if it wasn't for the heavy silence that blanketed everything.

    The
world was never this quiet in the old days. Now, it was as if every creature in
nature knew that breathing too loudly could bring monsters crashing down around
you.

    Moving
as quickly as she could, she bounded through the broken entryway and up the
stairs to her old room. She grabbed her journal and was back at her new home
within moments. Digging through her backpack as a last thought to confirm she
had everything she needed, Natalie briefly glanced up from her work and found
herself face-to-face with a man who had just rounded the corner nearest her.

    Her
attention snapped neatly to his rifle, a serious piece of work complete with a
well-used bayonet, which was leveled squarely at her chest. The look of
confusion
on his face matched the one on her own. Apparently she
wasn't what he was expecting to find. Natalie was talking before she realized
it.

    "Woah
now, easy buddy. I'm human, and I'm not out to hurt anybody. I'm just getting
back into my house." She vaguely pointed a finger at the ladder, and then
up toward the window. The man blinked heavily behind a pair of thick goggles
before chuckling, a light and casual response that did little to make Natalie
any more comfortable with the situation. His mouth and nose were covered with a
heavy cloth that appeared to have flecks of dark red spattered across it. She
didn't have to guess at what left the stains.

    Noting
her eyes fixated on the bloody sash around his mouth, the stranger reached up
and pulled it down so she could better see his face. To Natalie's surprise, he
was remarkably clean, with short-cropped black hair and a neatly trimmed goatee
of matching color. If she had to guess, he was in his mid-20s, maybe a year or
two older than Natalie herself.

    His
rifle dipped as he
leaned
back around the side of the house,
calling out in a low voice, "
Eh, g
uys. Not
a zombie. Actually found somebody alive out here after all." Having alerted
the rest of his gang to her presence, he returned his attention back to Natalie
and seemed to size up her appearance.

    She
didn't imagine she made the greatest first impression. She hadn't been able to
clean the
filthy
muck off herself as well as she'd have
liked, and with her swim goggles pushed back on her forehead combined with the
downright gnarly looking crowbar at her hip, she suspected he had more reason
to be wary of her than the other way around.

    "You,
uh... well shit, I guess there's no point in mincing words. You sane? You look
crazy, but I guess the world could do that to a person these days." He
said it with a hint of a smile on his lips, but his rifle had swiveled up just
enough to show it was a serious question.

    While
he finished speaking, two more men with matching gear came around the corner to
meet him. The guy who had found her first was clearly the youngest, with the
others each being a decade older than him at the least. Of the two newcomers,
one of them might have been the younger man's older brother, with matching hair
color and the same rich caramel skin tone. The last was significantly more
calloused, a bear of a man who looked like he'd made a living of going through
Hell. The leader, if she had to guess.

    Natalie
wasn't particularly fond of finding herself in the company of strangers, but
considering she was outnumbered and outgunned, she decided it was best to go
along with it.

    "Probably
not crazy, but definitely not a threat. If you guys want supplies, the houses
around here should have some, and I'm pretty confident they're clear."
Given that she was not in a position to fight if it came down to that, Natalie
hoped that maybe the promise of free spoils in the homes around her would
convince the strangers that she wasn’t worth their time. With her fingers
locked in a death-grip over her crowbar, she glanced at each of them in turn,
trying to get a handle on their intentions.

    They
looked professional, if that meant anything anymore, and the expressions on their
faces suggested they had approached her more out of caution than a hunger for
trouble. The one she believed to be the older brother spoke next. "You're
out here alone?"

    Natalie
was smart enough to know that was a dangerous question. She knew that when
somebody asks if you're alone, you never say yes. That's the universal trigger
for inviting bad news into your life.

    Unfortunately,
her hesitation in answering seemed to be enough for the men to confirm their
suspicions. The youngest shook his head with a dramatic sigh, releasing his
rifle and allowing it to swing back on its strap as he raised his hands in a
sign of peace.

    "Look,
you're scared, we're armed, I get that. But hey, believe it or not, we don't
wanna kill ya.” His wording drew a wince from his maybe-relative, and a deep
rumble of disapproval from the giant behind him. It didn’t seem to have any
impact on the young man, as he was either unaware or uninterested in their
opinions of the way he handled himself.

    “We're
here to find people like you and bring them back to the outpost. The military
guys say they got no people to send out, but they took some volunteers for a
mission and, tada, now we're here." He flashed another smile before
continuing, an action that was likely supposed to come off as reassuring, but
only managed to make Natalie feel more on edge.

    "I'm
Marco. The man who looks like my cheap knock-off is my cousin, Rico, and the
big guy who always looks intense is BJ." Leaning in and whispering all too
loudly, Marco added with a wink, "Don't make fun of his name, he'll tear
you in half. I mean it."

    Rico
looked uncomfortable, and BJ grunted another rumble of dislike. Natalie took
another moment to study the brutish man apparently known as BJ, realizing that
he really was intimidating. Easily over six and a half feet tall, his head was
completely shaven, and he carried himself with an air of power and confidence
that was hard to ignore.

    Glancing
back at her home, she had to pause and consider what would be safer. If she
could make it into an outpost, she could ride the rest of this out in relative
comfort. She briefly entertained the notion that Marco and his band might be
lying, but if they had wanted anything else, they had the power to take it.

    Even
knowing how dangerous the route to the safe zones could be, Natalie found
herself believing these men would be able to get her there. Their weapons were
no joke, and though they claimed they were only volunteers, they looked like
they knew how to fight. For the first time, BJ spoke, his voice a booming tenor
that shook her from her contemplations.