Threnody (Book 1) (35 page)

I have no idea if Ava had a jacket like this!  I can hardly remember her face much less her wardrobe!  But who else could it have been… It has to be hers!

Pivoting around, John saw no other signs of his little girl.  The nearest revs, a group of four about two blocks away, seemed to take notice of the commotion made by the survivors.  As the dolorous things shambled toward them, their cumulative groans sounding like a dirge belted out by a demonic barbershop quartet from Hell, John paid them little mind.  Instead, his eyes paused on the partially ajar door of a sturdy, industrial building on the right side of the street.  Before the plague had decimated the town, it had served as a warehouse for a contractor.

As if in a vision sent down to him from the heavens, John imagined Ava running into the building, panicked and scared.  Blinded by the possibilities promised by the vision, he took off like a shot, plunging into the unknown darkness inside the structure without a word.  Having been so focused on the small group of revs staggering their way, Reams,
Ethan
, and Kate only caught John’s sudden movement out of the corner of their eyes.  Both alarmed and dismayed by his action, they dashed toward the warehouse in pursuit, still unsure of what caused him to tear off on his own with such reckless abandon.

With voices low, the three cautiously called out for John upon entering the darkened building; they heard nothing in reply. Their eyes were not yet adjusted to the dim interior making it virtually impossible for them to discern anything inside.  Guardedly, the trio searched the cluttered aisles for any sign of John, but ended up finding only one another in the vast warehouse.

“Where is he?  What the hell was he thinking?” growled Reams, clearly frustrated with his friend’s rash behavior.  A sound like a metal pipe clanging to the ground came from somewhere in the Cimmerian expanse. Hearts thumping and minds racing, the group moved quickly in the direction of the sound.

As they rounded a corner toward the rear of the building, Reams slipped on a slick patch of concrete, barely managing to stay on his feet.  Simultaneously recovering and cursing the tenebrosity, he froze as his eyes settled on the horrible tableaux laid out before him in a swath of light provided by one of the few skylights in the roof of the structure.  As though paralyzed by some form of black magic cast by the small rev, John stood unmoving in front of the
tragic
creature slowly hobbling toward him on its ruined leg.

Skrrraklunk…thump.  Skrrraklunk…thump.  Skrrraklunk…thump.  Skrrraklunk…thump.

John was unable to move – unable to make even the slightest sound – as the clearly
irremediable, infected
juvenile trudged closer and closer.  Its left lower leg was fractured just above the ankle; the sharp edge of its tibia protruding through the frayed skin of the ankle like a big toe long overdue for a nail trim poking through an overused gym sock.  The jagged end of the bone scraped across the concrete floor as it faltered along with a pronounced limp due to one leg being six inches shorter than the other.  The ravaged foot flopped limply against the hard floor with a sickening, wet thud each time the rev settled its weight on the bony peg leg.

Skrrraklunk…thump.  Skrrraklunk…thump.  Skrrraklunk…thump.  Skrrraklunk…thump.

Reams stood rooted to the spot in a slimy salmagundi composed of blood, hair, and other sundry pieces of tissue.  The puerile rev was barely more than one broken step away from John at this point, yet still he showed no sign of action.  To Reams, his friend seemed resigned to his inevitable fate at the hands of the fiend before him.  The rev was exceedingly slow due to its injured leg, and Reams estimated he was only twenty feet away from the pair. 
Can I make it in time?

In the split second during which his mind processed the entirety of the situation, Reams’ brain also registered a far-off, familiar voice coming from somewhere in the shadows.  He wrestled with the horror of the scenario with which John was facing, struggling to accept the cruel twist of fate the man had been dealt.  Then, with a jolt like cold water being thrown in his face, Reams emerged from the recesses of his mind as the tumultuous sounds all around him flooded back into his ears.  Reams suddenly spoke up, “It’s not her!” 

The voice Reams heard – that of
Ethan
– was trying to prod him into action.

From his position,
Ethan
was only able to partially visualize the scene but could plainly see that Reams urgently needed to act.  “Reams?  Reams! Reams!” he bellowed to the big man in a frantic call to action.  Though he could only see John’s unmoving legs, he could clearly see the small figure lumbering toward him with hungry malice smeared across its face.  He saw Reams freeze at the sight and feared it was because the rev about to take John’s life had been his daughter, Ava.  While this gave
Ethan
a moment’s pause as well, he knew there was nothing for it, and they needed to act now.  As Reams’ mind broke free from the fog of disbelief,
Ethan
heard him mutter the words that hit his eardrums like the report of a starter pistol at the beginning of a 500-meter dash.

John could see every minute detail of the thing’s cold, mottled flesh, as the infected adolescent—with minacious baby teeth bared in anticipation—wrapped its maleficent fingers around his wrist, and pulled his trembling hand toward its feculent mouth.

Before Reams even had time to react, a third actor appeared on the sordid stage before him.  With little more than a second to spare, a blur a silver light flashed across the scene as if someone in the audience had ignored the request to refrain from flash photography during the performance.

When the glint of light faded,
Ethan
stood with his left hand knotted in the filthy tangles of the rev’s hair, and his right hand on the hilt of the Ka-Bar that skewered its soft skull.

The infected thing still held John’s hand loosely in its own, no longer feverishly working to pull the appendage into its yearning jaws. 

Russell gently eased the now inanimate rev to the ground with as much care as if he was putting a newborn baby down for a mid-morning nap.  John did not even move when the thing’s icy hand finally pulled away from his wrist. 

Kate emerged from the shadows behind
Ethan
and, placing a hand on John’s shoulder, she ushered the nearly catatonic man out of the darkness and into the light.

Chapter 38

October 21, 2015

Following the incident in the warehouse, the group pressed on to John’s house where they planned to regroup, restock, and prepare for the trip to Atlanta.

After Kate managed to guide John out of the ghastly building, the two downtrodden survivors walked together in silence.

From his position behind them, Reams thought they looked nearly indistinguishable from a pair of revs with their filthy clothes and titubant gaits.  He knew that whatever remained of his friend was tearing itself apart inside, and he hoped that Kate might somehow be able to help him out of that dark place as well.

To John, the possibility of finding Ava – or at least something to indicate she was alive – near Trenton’s office seemed like his last chance.  He and Reams had found no hard evidence that she was alive or dead, leaving him with only a father’s gut feeling to go on. From excited anticipation at the prospect of finding her, to total desolation when he thought she was the rev he had discovered in the warehouse, to utter despondency when he realized his chances of ever finding his little girl dwindled steadily with each passing day, the emotional rollercoaster left John feeling like little more than a shell of a person.  For the hundredth time since he returned home to find his world in tumult, he felt like he could not go on; the pain raging through his veins was far too great to bear.

“John, I know you don’t know me at all, but I know what you are feeling,” said Kate in a soft voice after they had been walking for twenty minutes.  John hardly acknowledged her, giving her only an ice cold, half-glare out of the corner of his eye that begged to differ.

“I know that sounds like clichéd bullshit, but it’s true.  I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass to try to make you feel better.  In fact, I don’t think I can make you feel better.  I just want you to know you’re not alone.  You see, I had a son,” continued Kate, her voice faltering after her last words.

This caused John to turn his head and regard her with the entirety of his gaze, no longer icy, but rather searching.  He stared at her, his eyes scouring her countenance as if somewhere within was the secret to ending the gnawing agony deep inside him.  He had not known she had a child, and learning this now left him feeling somewhat selfish.

“In a way it’s better, and in a way it’s worse.  I know where he is, so at least I have closure. But I also know he is gone, so I no longer have hope.  I suppose you can’t really have both—hope and closure.  My advice to you, John, is hold on to hope at least until you have closure.  Even though they are both bitter pills to swallow, I can’t imagine how bad it would be without having one or the other,” concluded Kate.

With a profound look of equal parts astonishment and confusion, John stammered, “Sorry, I never knew…why are you telling me this now?”

“Because the three of you gave me hope of a different sort when you risked your lives to save me back at Hermitage, and because I see the hope that I once had burning in your eyes,” answered Kate.

Without another word on the matter, John offered an appreciative nod that told Kate he not only understood her, but also that he would be okay, at least for the time being.  They continued walking in silence until they reached 1406 Hood Street.

Once inside his former home, now as foreign as the alien landscape of Mars, John carefully looked around for any sign that Ava had been there.  He had been unable to check the house for the past several days and was again dismayed to find no clear evidence that anyone had entered the house.  Reams showed Ethan and Kate around, and they each began their preparations in their own way.  Kate took a moment to clean up, rigorously trying to wash away the last remnants of Hermitage Estates. Ethan scoured the house and gathered any supplies he thought they would find useful on the next leg of their impossible journey.  Sitting on the couch where he had fallen asleep the last time he was there, Reams took a minute to catch his breath and redress his wounded arm.  He wondered how and if they would ever make it all the way to Atlanta. 
Is it even worth trying to get there? Given what we’ve seen here, I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like in the city.

While the others went about their own personal tasks, John sat in the kitchen lost amidst a swirling tempest of thoughts and emotions.  He stared blankly at the setting sun beyond a shattered window—a skeletal tree limb jutting through in an accusatory manner like the disapproving phalanx of a giant decayed hand that knew what he was thinking.  He discovered the letter he left for Ava on the floor in the corner of the room, presumably blown there by the same wind that sent the tree limb smashing through the windowpane.  As if Mother Nature was playing a cruel trick on him, John initially saw the note was gone and thought his daughter had taken it.  Crestfallen, John sat alone with the letter at the empty kitchen table, bemired by dirt and leaves blown in through the broken window, and struggled to compose a new letter for his little lost girl.  The pen and paper proved to be no match for the blinding tears spilling out of his eyes like water from a ruptured water main, smearing the ink and rendering his words as undecipherable as ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics.  After four tries, John finally managed to staunch the flow of tears sufficiently to allow completion of the letter that told Ava everything he ever wanted to tell her.  At the end of the missive, John detailed their plans to travel to Atlanta to assist Dr. Lin San.

Exhausted, each of them took a turn keeping watch that night, while the others tried to get a few precious moments of sleep.  As John’s head settled down on the cool, soft pillow, his mind whirring amidst a fusillade of thoughts, he scarcely imagined he would find any sleep at all. When a fulgent beam of light seared a path across his visage causing him to open his weary eyes, he realized the unyielding light was that of the early morning sun. The slightest smile creased his face, and he thanked St. Elijah for the first night of decent sleep he had in weeks. 
How strange that I managed to get a little sleep on this of all nights?

Rising and feeling fairly well rested; John trudged out of the room to join the others.  He found them in the kitchen, and it seemed as though he was not the only one afforded the small blessing of a few hours of quality sleep.  The glorious smell of instant coffee and something savory cooking on the small, portable camping stove
Ethan
set up in the room bombarded the olfactory centers of his rejuvenated brain.  The wonderful smell seemed all at once familiar yet completely out of place compared to the smells of MREs and canned food that had become the norm in the last couple of weeks. As his three companions turned to greet him, John caught a fleeting glimpse of something he had scarcely seen in the last two weeks: happiness. 

After a meager breakfast, they gathered their gear, rechecked the loads of their weapons, and reviewed the plans they hashed out for their trip to Atlanta.  To begin their journey, they intended to commandeer a vehicle from one of John’s neighbors, as he and Reams had already taken Rebecca’s truck, and John’s vehicle remained at the airport. 

Standing at the end of his driveway on Hood Street, possibly for the last time, John stared off to the east as tears obscured his vision, robbing him of his view of the perfect sunrise.  Nearly strangled by the burgeoning lump in his throat that seemed hell-bent on his asphyxiation, John thought of the marked incongruity between the wonderful, peaceful life he and his family had lived here, and the violent demise it ultimately met.  He thought of all the things the unrelenting plague had done and would likely do to his world.  He wondered whether Lin even made it to Atlanta, and if she truly possessed the fortitude and knowledge to carry out the impossible charge.  Replaying the broken phone call in his mind, John even considered the possibility that he misinterpreted the message altogether.  It seemed as though it had been a lifetime ago.

John felt the weight of his horrible decision pressing down upon him like the weight of the sky upon Atlas’ shoulders. While he wanted more than anything to spend the rest of his days searching for Ava, he knew in the depths of his soul that was the selfish path.  Lin asked for his help, and he believed that if anyone were capable of ending this godforsaken blight it would be her.  He desperately wanted to believe Ava was alive but couldn’t completely silence the realist within him that told of another fate. Recalling Kate’s words, John vowed to hang on to hope like a life jacket in a furious storm.  He rationalized that while he was abandoning his search of the immediate area, he would not abandon hope that she was alive and well somewhere in this ruined, new world.  He also knew that if Ava was alive, her life would mean nothing if whatever remained of it had to be spent like that of a troglodyte—merely scrounging to subsist all the while trying to avoid becoming the means for subsistence for someone or something else.  John knew he and his ragtag group of survivors could help Lin and, above all else, that should be his priority at that point.  Head hung low, he did not know what else to do.

“You guys seeing this?” said Reams as he walked tentatively toward the west, finger pointing to the horror blooming on the distant horizon.  Like a fuming army of ants, the mass of dark shapes bumped and banged making the horizon appear to writhe with the unremitting movement.

John,
Ethan
, and Kate all stopped what they were doing and turned to see what was troubling Reams.  Almost in unison, their faces went slack as the realization of what they were seeing registered in each of their minds. In the distance, moving in their direction from the west was a herd of revs so large it seemed to envelop the derelict landscape like a molasses tidal wave as it flaggingly surged forward.  The slow, relentless, crushing force of the oncoming mass called up images of a steamroller in John’s mind: unquestionably fatal, yet achingly slow.

When the survivors approached Hood Street from the south the previous day they had not seen any indication that such a group was in the area.  As Atlanta was east of their current position, the languid horde did not pose much of a threat to them at its present distance.  Despite this, John could not help but wonder why a group that appeared to be over five hundred strong was amassed there in the first place. 

Knowing they were safe as long as they did not wait around for the revs to come knocking on the door, the group quickly gathered their gear and readied themselves to set out on the 250 mile trek to Atlanta. Before falling in behind the others, John took one last fleeting glance at his old home, and then stared out across the sea of the vacant faces ambling randomly toward him like so many leaves blown by the wind.  A thousand feral eyes stared longingly at him and the departing forms of his companions.

Beyond the seemingly infinite ocean of infection, hidden from view, crouched another lone set of eyes; different because of the brightness and intelligence they held. They, too, stared longingly at the retreating backs of the survivors and at the one man who stood defiantly facing the swarm.  A glimmer of uncertain recognition fluttered through the eyes, and the associated mouth clamped down hard on its tongue, daring not utter a single sound for fear of calling the ‘bad ones’ back.  Instead, the calculating eyes moved discreetly with the slow, cautious coordination of a hunting feline, having learned to move quietly and skillfully amongst the infected things.  Wanting more than anything to race full bore toward the solitary man, the eyes had seen enough to know that course of action would prove fatal.  Instead, the circumspect eyes bided their time, sliding stealthily through the shadows, and drawing ever closer to the departing survivors.  Unfortunately, the gap between the unhindered survivors and the besieged eyes grew steadily despite all efforts to close the distance.

Far across the impenetrable distance, with a sigh of resignation, John managed to croak a single, nearly inaudible phrase before turning to join the others.

“I will always love you, Ava.”