Threnody (Book 1) (15 page)

Feeling stiffer than he ever thought possible, John tried to climb to his feet as he simultaneously scanned the ground around him for anything he could use as a weapon.  Realizing his lug wrench was either trampled into the mud or submerged in the cesspool, the only thing he saw was a severed humerus—the muscle and skin still clinging tightly as it lay abandoned and lifeless.  John paused wondering how much more he could take before reluctantly reaching out to claim the macabre weapon.  Just before his protesting hand grasped the exposed bone, the monster’s head exploded forward from the force of a powerful blow from behind.  Instantly, the offending weapon was redirected and poised to deal its next deathblow when John recognized the hand gripping the breaker bar.  He managed to gurgle out a single word.

“Reams?” 

Upon hearing his name, the big man pulled his strike back at the last second, sparing John for the second time since the two men met.  Confused and gasping, Reams asked with an inquisitive and not entirely convinced tone of voice, “John? How can you still talk?”

John managed to bubble out a slight chuckle that sounded and smelled nearly identical to flatulence.

Without thinking, Reams rushed forward and wrapped the other man in a fierce embrace before recoiling with the sudden, painful realization of what he had just done.  Reams exclaimed, “Holy shit, John!  You smell like…shit!  Maybe worse than one of those dead bastards.  Ah hell, you got that shit on my clothes! How the hell did you…” continued Reams as confused as ever.

Clearing the rank fluid from his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose, John said, “Good to see you, too, buddy.  I’ll tell you all about it later.  Let’s just get the hell out of here before they smell your sweet ass and come back to the table.  Thanks for coming back, by the way…even though I told you to get the hell out of here.”

A bit miffed, Reams said, “Yeah, you’re welcome.  You go on ahead. I’ll be right behind you…by about twenty or thirty feet.  Damn, you stink.”

And with that, they walked toward John’s house—and all the uncertainty it held.

Chapter 15

October 4, 2014

The two haggard men walked quietly, too tired even for conversation, as they continuously scanned their surroundings.  John, in particular, was not one to engage in much idle small talk before everything went to hell.  Now the world had evolved into one where such unnecessary noise and conversation could lead to death, either by impairing one’s ability to remain vigilant and aware of the surroundings, or by alerting the infected to your presence. 
Being the quiet, introspective type certainly had its advantages now.

In just a couple short days, the two men had already endured so much that they felt like hardened veterans who had been living like this for years.  Much to John’s surprise, the violence and mayhem he experienced since landing his small plane in the middle of this shit-storm less than forty-eight hours ago was already settling in and altering his life perspective.  Though he would give anything to have things back the way they were before this wretched plague, he already found it hard to imagine the normal, mundane day-to-day activities of life before all this shit.  Going to the grocery, work, schedules, meetings, and even flipping a switch with the expectations of light bathing the room and vanquishing all the shadows contained within already seemed so foreign. John could no longer envision the details of some of the people and places he had seen nearly every day for most of his life.

Again his thoughts drifted to his late father, and he wondered if he experienced a similarly rapid shift when he was thrown into the wild and foreign jungles of Vietnam as a young man.  Though John always marveled at how well adjusted his father seemed to be despite his war experiences, he recalled a time when his father commented on the havoc war could play on the mind of a young soldier. He couldn’t help feeling a degree of empathy now that he had not possessed at that time.

“Take a seventeen or eighteen year old boy, remove the societal rules he has lived by for his entire life, remove the influence of his parents, his religion—everything, and put him in a foreign land where his only support is from equally disrupted boys.  Give him a gun and tell him to kill because it’s okay to do that there.  Give him essentially free reign to do as he pleases,” Ben Wild said one day a few years back when a story about mental health issues amongst combat veterans came on the news.  He continued with anger coloring his words, “Leave him there for months to witness and participate in untold horrible things that no man should ever have to see – all under the guise of fighting for a country that upon your return will look at you like a pariah.  Do all that to a kid, then ask him to go sit through a PTA meeting or hold a cubicle job.” 

Now, John was fairly certain he would never again be able to participate as a ‘normal’ member of society, if ever such a thing returned.

The fires that John had seen on his approach seemed to be dying down, though he thought he noticed others burning in the distance. There was a great deal of smoke coming from several miles ahead, as well as from across the river to the north. A nice, calm breeze that would have been quite enjoyable on a normal day gently churned the cool air around them.

After walking
west parallel to County Road 38 for hours,
John finally broke the silence.  “Reams, where do you live?  We can go by your place as well and get anything you need, or check on anybody you want?”

The big mechanic remained quiet for a moment before he replied, and John sensed his question might have struck a nerve.

“My house is through town from here, on the north side.  Could be a hell of a lot of those things between here and there.  No reason to risk it, nothing there worth dying for,” concluded Reams with a hint of sadness darkening his words.

“I don’t think I mentioned it yet, but I was married for a while.  We never had any kids, which I guess turned out to be a good thing.  My wife, Candice, left me a few years back.  I made good money as an aircraft mechanic, but it was never enough for her, you know.  I’m not sure she even knew what
enough
was.  Anyway, she left to try to find someone bound for fortune and fame, I suppose.  Maybe I should have tried my hand at rapping or some shit,” said Reams with a smirk. 

“No, let’s stick to the plan, and head to your house to find your wife and kid.  Then we’ll head to your buddy Al’s place and go from there,” added Reams, as his face transformed back into the emotionless mask.

As they neared the small town, they were surprised to see relatively little activity.  Though the town of just over 100,000 people was too small to have true suburbs, John’s house was located on the outskirts of town on the east side in one of the areas of urban sprawl that sprang up in recent years. 

John was filled with all manner of negative thoughts and emotions as he considered the lack of people – healthy or infected – they had encountered thus far.  As they walked, the agrestic surroundings slowly faded away revealing the modern conveniences and nuisances of urban life.  The density of abandoned vehicles increased steadily as they drew closer to the outskirts of the small town.  Despite this, there were still no people in view.  More than a few cars bore the telltale signs of a bloody struggle that the two men had seen many times before.  John noticed the keys in the ignition of several vehicles and the doors left ajar on many others.  Most of them looked as though they were packed in a tremendous rush with all sorts of useless personal belongings crammed into the limited space within.  When he looked at the large flat screen television and computer taking up the majority of the back seat in an abandoned Ford Taurus, John shook his head thinking of how clueless most people were when the plague hit.

Similarly, most of the vehicles looked as though they were abandoned in an equal rush.  A commonality among all the vehicles were the smears of blood covering the sides, making them appear as if someone held a bloody rag against them as they walked past. Bloody handprints adorned those windows that were still intact, making it all too clear how things unfolded. His thoughts immediately and unwillingly drifted back to the minivan he had seen at the airport. All of these things, in sum, bothered John on a deeper level that he couldn’t quite pinpoint.  He imagined the threat of the plague causing people to gather their belongings and rush out in a panicked attempt to escape the impending epidemic, only to run straight into it.  So many were forced to abandon everything for a chance at survival, no matter how slight.  Perhaps many of the people knew about the barricade and the containment center, and simply evacuated via another route.  While he sincerely hoped that was the case, his pessimism chimed in and told him it was more likely that the majority of people were caught completely off guard as they sat eating a microwave dinner, and mindlessly watching ‘The Wheel of Fortune.’

John’s morbid internal monologue was brought to an abrupt halt as Reams’ hand snapped out and came to rest on John’s chest, signaling him to stop.  His other hand went to his mouth where a single finger extended over his lips, indicating John should keep quiet.  Making eye contact, Reams motioned for John to look at an area up ahead.  His heart sank as his eyes processed what they were seeing.  Approximately a hundred yards ahead lay a large parking lot in front of a shopping center containing a big box retail store, a salon, a shoe store, and a few restaurants.  The parking lot was nearly full of cars, but what John was truly taken aback by, were the hundreds of infected dispersed amongst the vehicles.  They shuffled about aimlessly as best as they could tell from this distance.  A new type of consumer now bemired the landscape of the former bastion of commercialism.

The route to John’s house would take them directly past the big parking lot; there was no other reasonable way.  A moderate-sized drainage ditch, and a four-foot tall chain link fence, were the only obstacles between the revs in the parking lot and the road where they stood.  Both men knew that if the revs were stirred up, the fence and the ditch would offer little resistance to their advance.  Fortunately, the property on the opposite side of the road was still under development, and as such, no people or infected could be seen there.  Huddled behind the wrecked form of a Suburban about twenty yards from the parking lot, the two men discussed the best means of navigation past the new encumbrance.

“We should drop down as low as possible in the drainage ditch on the far side of the road.  That will give us visual cover and as much sound and scent cover as possible.  Once we are safely beyond the lot we can continue west until we reach Hood Street, where we’ll turn right and head north to my house,” John said as he sketched a map in the dirt like some old high school football coach or military field commander.

Reams thought about this for a moment before nodding in agreement, and adding, “What the hell is it with you and drainage ditches anyway?”

Inching forward, John peered around the corner of the SUV.  The shambling horde in the parking lot still moved without purpose.  Thankfully, most of the revs were congregated closer to the front of the store rather than near the road.  John ducked back behind the SUV, and said, “It looks clear.  I’ll go first while you keep watch.  Once I’m safely in the ditch I’ll signal you to move, okay?”

Reams nodded his agreement, and John slid forward to the edge of cover to ready himself.  He watched the infected things staggering about and counted roughly thirteen near the fence closest to the road.  The distance to the drainage ditch was only about fifteen yards, but there was no real cover between the SUV and the ditch. As John’s heart beat harder and harder in his chest, he tried to steady his breathing and willed himself to keep calm.  Fearing he would lose what little nerve he had, he decided it was time to move.

In a flash, he sprang to his feet and moved out of concealment.  Wanting very badly for this to be over, he quickly covered the distance with broad, bounding steps.  About halfway to the ditch his foot came down on the remains of a broken Budweiser bottle that crunched loudly under the pressure of his full body weight.  Startled by the sound, he instinctively looked down and back, causing his feet to become entangled with one another.  As if in slow motion, he was momentarily suspended in a near horizontal position like a wide receiver going for the game-winning touchdown pass before he crashed down hard on the packed dirt.

The sound was deafening to Reams as he watched with horror as the unfortunate acrobatic display unfolded.  The revs closest to the corner of the parking lot also took notice of the noise.  Reams saw that while they definitely stopped and turned in the direction of the sound, they were not moving toward it initially.  Several seconds later, one of the revs began to move awkwardly in the direction of his fallen friend.  Looking back to where John lay, Reams saw the tall grass moving as John struggled to get back to his feet.  Reams hissed a warning to John, signaling him to stay low and still, as he worried the rev might be responding to his movement.

John did as Reams said without hesitation.  He could see nothing but the grass immediately surrounding him as he tried to remain completely motionless, his head down against the ground.

Reams held his breath as he prayed that the curious rev had not already seen and heard too much.  So focused was he that he barely registered the brief shadow that passed across the broken side mirror hanging from the Suburban door just above his head.  After a moment of hesitation, while his brain processed this information, he made a half-lunge forward and pivoted to the right while simultaneously swinging his left fist around behind him like a wrecking ball.  The rev creeping up behind him was an elderly white lady wearing striped pink slippers and a dingy housecoat blazoned with cat footprints. Her entire head of nearly translucent, silver-blue hair was done up with pink foam rollers that exploded upon the impact of Reams’ fist, raining down upon him like candy from a piñata.  He could feel the crunch of ribs as the side of his fist connected with her ribcage, sending her smashing hard into the rear passenger door of the SUV before she fell limply on top of him.  The thing’s skull impacted his jaw causing him to instinctively pull away to lessen the blow.  The strands of blue hair that were draped across his lower face bore the acrid, chemical reek of hair product.  Reams felt Blue Hair’s foul jaws close tightly on the exposed skin of his neck.

Blue Hair couldn’t have weighed more than 80 lbs. Reams flipped her squirming form to the side with ease.  Just as she raised her head to snarl at him, Reams brought his clenched left fist down ferociously onto the back of her neck with a sickening crunch.  Her head jolted back, then forward, before smashing into the ground and ricocheting up again.  There was a gut-wrenching sound reminiscent of two rocks being ground together as the bones of her spine collapsed, transecting the spinal cord as they did.  The blue haired rev fell to the ground, now truly lifeless.  Still stunned by the attack that lasted little more than five seconds, he could not suppress a relieved grin as the image of that horrible, edentulous snarl flashed though his mind, and he massaged the spot on his neck where the thing’s gums had been unable to break the skin. 

Rolling onto his stomach, the big man high crawled to the edge of the SUV.  He was startled to see that John was no longer lying in the tall stand of grass where he last saw him.  In fact, he could not see John anywhere as he scanned the area.  When his eyes reached the parking lot, he froze.  The revs were no longer concerned with the noise John had made and no longer moved around randomly.  Instead he saw ta dozen revs all pushing against the fence in the direction of the SUV, apparently interested in the commotion caused by his little scuffle with Blue Hair moments ago.