The Swamp (24 page)

             
“Us two, as in the two of us” Rebecca asked hopefully, surprise in her voice. “You mean you are okay with us staying together… as a couple?

             
“Yes,” said his mother, “I can’t have you constantly sneaking out of the house late at night and waking me up.” She said gruffly, but Sam could tell she was only mock annoyed.

             
“You think you would be able to hear that from Ken’s room?” He tossed back at her and smiled.

Epilogue

             
The next several months passed in a blur of activity. The fence was expanded to allow for more room, and expanded again when the colony hit fifty. New people, primarily travelers were found and brought in every week. The pig farm was finished and was already producing litters. They had built a chicken coop and captured a large number of the birds, who now spent their days happily scratching for food, and laying eggs for the colonist’s breakfast.

             
Someone had even chanced upon a couple of dairy cows that had escaped the herds of dead, and now milk could be had every day. The Florida winter came and went, and in the fields on the highway, their crop seeds were already starting to poke through the soil.

             
Ken had got the ham radio working, and sat up into the early hours talking to other survivors as far away as Alaska. The story was the same everywhere, every group they talked to told similar tales of how they had survived, and they shared tips and expertise across the air waves.

             
The scavenging parties, now led by Sam and Rebecca, had to travel farther and farther to gather the needs of the growing colony, but every time they came back, they reported fewer and fewer dead in the towns. It had taken the better part of a year, but the infected were finally starving to death and falling to rot.

             
Only once did they encounter any of the crazies, and when spotted they had run like hell into the trees. It was obvious that a lot of the heart had been taken out of them.

             
Sam sat around a table outside his trailer with Rebecca, Mom and Mark. Everywhere around the camp, similar groups sat with cups of assorted cups close at hand. The alcohol had flowed freely that night, and the remains of a feast sat on the dinner tables.

             
“That was beautiful Mark.” Mom said as she played three kings, pulling even farther ahead in their game of rummy.

             
“Thank you,” He responded, “But Laurie and Dave deserved a proper preacher.”

             
Sam thought back to the day he had found Dave walking down the road, looking lost and very alone. He had brought him back to join the group, never imagining that the two would hit it off so quickly.

             
They had announced their plans to wed less than a week ago, and the women of the group had jumped at the opportunity to plan the celebration.

             
“You did a fine job.” Sam said to reassure Mark, “You are the unanimously elected mayor after all, and I fell that falls squarely in the job description now a day.”

             
“That’s only because you didn’t run against me, I am sure if anyone else had run it would have been a different story, but those of us from that barn will never forget what you did for us there and later.” Mark added.

             
“Well of course I’d have won, but then how would I have found the time to get out and explore the country side while I gather food with my lady.” Sam looked to Rebecca as he spoke

             
She blushed “Somebody has to go along and save your butt, and what a nice one it is too.” It was his turn to blush.”

             
Ken approached the table and held out his arm to Mom. “Care to dance?” He asked.

             
As they left, Mark commented, “Do you remember when he wouldn’t speak to anyone?”

             
“That sure has changed, and they make a cute couple.” said Rebecca as she watched the couple dance to Paul’s guitar.

             
“They are just friends, they swear.” Retorted Sam in a mocking tone they all laughed together.

             
They celebrated until well after dark, and Mark had the generators turned on for the special occasion. It was a grand move with as low of gas as they were, but they all agreed that the situation deserved it.

             
Laurie and Dave quietly went to their shared trailer around ten, and the party soon broke up, laughing people heading to their own beds and talking about the success of the evening.

             
“Ten minutes to lights out.” Yelled Mark to warn his people of the generators impending shut down.

             
Sam and Rebecca stayed at the table and talked. Sam fidgeted in his chair, and not for the first time that evening.

             
“What’s wrong with you tonight?” she finally asked.

             
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Rebecca, we have been together for a while now…” He paused and seemed to stall in what he was trying to say.

             
“Spit it out Sam, you are driving me crazy.” She said anxiously.

             
Sam sighed again. She could tell he was nervous about something. “Rebecca, I love you” he said to her, and then quietly muttered “Get it together Sam,” he said to himself.

             
“Yes,” she said, prodding him along.

             
“To hell with a speech,” he said and produced a small Box from his pocket, “Rebecca, will you marry me?”

             
Stunned, she opened the box and inside was an incredibly large diamond engagement ring. “Where did you get this?” she breathed.

             
“That pawn shop a few weeks ago, I snagged it while you were prying open the gun cabinet.” Sam explained. “I spent three months’ salary, “he said, “of course I haven’t actually got a pay check in over a year.”

             
She stared at the ring in shock, as it importance sunk in. “Well?” he finally said, breaking her trance.

             
She slipped the ring onto her finger and it fit perfectly. “Yes,” she said “I will marry you, Sam!”

             
Nearby in the darkness where she stood, frozen by the conversation as she had snuck to the tower stairs, His mother smiled. As Sam and Rebecca leaned together in a kiss, she crossed to the stairs and started her climb to the top. “Things are getting better.” She thought to herself as she climbed.

             
Later that night, as they lay in a tangle of arms and legs in the bed, someone pounded on the door. Sam sat up and instinctively reached for his gun on the side table, Rebecca beside him did the same.

             
The pounding came again, this time accompanied by a frantic voice calling his name. He pulled on pants and hurried to the door and flung it open.

             
Outside in the dark, Ken stood, arm raised to pound again.

             
“What’s wrong? Has the fence been breached” Sam demanded looking around.

             
“No, it’s the radio, you have to come quick.” Ken stammered, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.

             
Sam looked towards Rebecca, and she was already dressed and crossing the space to join him. He looked back and Ken was gone, probably already on the thin metal steps by now.

             
“What’s wrong,” asked Rebecca, appearing by his side.

             
“I have no idea.” He responded and they headed for the tower. As they reached the stairs, Sam saw the figure of his brother coming out of the house and moving towards them quickly.

             
He climbed the stairs two at a time, Rebecca keeping pace, and Mark a few steps below them.

At the top of the tower, they paused outside the door that led from the
balcony into the room. Through the glass he could see his mother’s figure at the radio, excitedly talking to someone. She looked up at him as he opened the door, and a huge smile graced her face.

             
“He is here baby, He can hear you.” She said, and moved to let him sit down. Over the tinny pop, hiss and crackle of a very long distance, he heard a voice he thought lost forever to him.               “Daddy, are you there?”

Authors Note:

             
Many people deserve thanks for the writing of this novel, and I am hesitant to name them for fear of forgetting any. That said, I have to specifically thank my daughter, Jod’e for bringing Nanowrimo to my attention and encouraging me to not give up.

             
Nanowrimo is a program that occurs every November, and encourages people to finally get off their butts and do what most of us say we have always wanted to do, write a book. Without that 50,000 word challenge, this novel would simply not have existed, despite the last decade I have spent thinking about doing it.

             
I would like to thank Emily and Belinda for tolerating my month of relative absence as I isolated myself on the porch writing, and for the encouragement they gave.

             
I also cannot go without thanking my brother Robert. Our countless hours sitting in the swamp discussing our zombie plans were the very genesis of what you have just read. And yes, I would cross a zombie infested wasteland to rescue you. Let’s go fishing.

             
And to those I haven’t named here, don’t think I have forgotten you.  Thank you.

                                                        -Chris