After the Bite (27 page)

“People
, I have some wonderful news!” Jeff said. “The stadium is under new management! We felt our brothers in blue weren’t doing a good enough job protecting us, so we decided we’d be overthrowing this empire. Everything’s ours now. The food, the supplies, everything!” Most of the crowd was silent, save for the few disgruntled shouts, and some children who started to cry.

“If any of you people have any fucking problems with this,” Brent
said, “you can come speak to the business end of my gun!” No one shouted that time, but the children continued to cry.

“If that fucking crying
keeps up, I’m betting I can shut your stupid little kids up pretty quick,” Jeff said. “I’d suggest you stick a pacifier in their drooling mouths!” A teenaged boy and a girl with a buzz cut made their way up to the excitement as quickly as they could.

“What
’s going on?” the boy said.

“What? Are you deaf, kid? I said we
’re the kings of this castle! You answer to us, or you get the fucking guillotine! That’s
what’s going on!” Jeff looked over to a makeshift cell not far from the tables. In it was a man who had gotten into trouble for stealing food a few days before, and another heavy-set man who was smiling widely at the short-haired girl.

“Someone let those fine men out of there,” Jeff said. “We don
’t want them missing out on the fun!” Brent headed over with the keys and unlocked the cell. He opened the door, and the two men exited. They joined forces with Brent and the others, feeling very good about themselves for being on the right side.

“Now, all
of you assholes get yourselves back to your fucking cots before I start using you all for target practice! I don’t give a shit if you’re hungry, or if you have to take a piss. I don’t even care if your babies are withering away in your arms! Nobody moves a muscle until I fucking say so!” After finishing his speech Jeff pointed his gun down at the first officer in line and pulled the trigger. He moved his arm like a sprinkler, showering dozens of bullets over each of the officers. The masses watched in horror, and Brent thought he was going to throw up. The sea of people before him went back to their cots, and for the first time in days Brent felt like he had some kind of control. He looked at the dead officers, at Jeff smiling as he hopped off the table, and then at the frightened people he now ruled over. There was no turning back.

The stadium was quiet for the most part. Brent and his friends spent the day playing poker
and eating some of the food that was supposed to be for everyone. People stared at them in fear. Eyes begged them to reconsider their position, to let them go, at least to feed them, but none of that seemed to get to anyone except for Brent. Every time he thought about going back, he remembered Erica. She wouldn’t want this, but she wasn’t here, and going against Jeff and the others wouldn’t bring her back.

Brent was bored of poker,
so he decided to go see what the people were up to. Liam, Jim, and Nathan got up to patrol as well, but took separate areas.

As Brent walked, he
overheard a conversation. It seemed interesting, so he walked that way. He saw the old woman who’d had the heart attack, and the rest of her family.

“I guess you could say so,
” the man with the notebook was saying, “but can you deny what is happening here? All the death. God is not merciful at all. Those who have died obviously have not repented properly for their sins.”

“Repented properly?” a skinny man
said. He had some stubble from the days in the stadium, but beneath his face was turning red. “Are
you
fucking kidding me?”

“Billy!” his wife
said. “Leave it alone, damn it!”

“Is there a fucking problem over here?” Brent
said. He felt angry. He wasn’t angry at them really, but they didn’t know that. The old woman and the others turned to him quickly, with fear in their faces.

“N-no
,” Billy’s wife said. “There isn’t.” She shrank away from him as much as she could, and tried not to make eye contact.

“Really?” Brent said. The woman cringed and looked at the old woman
, who sat quietly. Her hands rested on the edge of the cot, gripping it tightly. Her head was down. The notebook-toting man eyed his notebook. “I’m very sure that I heard you idiots yelling over which mother-fucking God you believe in. You know what I think?”

“Well—” the notebook man
said.

“It was fucking rhetorical,
asshole,” said Brent. “I think that there isn’t any God any of us can pray to. We’re all alone on this pathetic little rock. We may meet people along the way, but they’ll just be taken away from us. So in the end, we’re alone. The quicker you fuckers get to comprehending these facts, the better off you’ll fucking be.” He scanned the group, and noticed a kid playing his PSP, his headphones in his ears, ignoring it all. Brent lurched forward, took the PSP, and held it up. Without realizing who had snatched his game, the teen shouted.

“Hey! What gives?” He looked up at Brent angrily
, but as soon as he saw Brent, he slumped down.

“I think I
’ll be taking this off your hands,” Brent said. “Next time I talk you fucking listen.” Brent turned to leave.

“Fucking
bastard,” the kid mumbled. Brent’s head snapped back toward him.

“The fuck did you just say, you little punk?” The kid
’s father leaned forward, an arm out in front of his son.

“Nothing. He said nothing
.”

The old woman spoke calmly, despite the situation.
“Young man, we’ve done nothing to you. Just leave us be, please.”

Brent was in no mood to kill a sad-looking grandma.
“You win, Granny. Just let the kid know who’s got the fucking gun, okay?”

Brent was miserable. He and his friends
weren’t any better than the officers had been. He wasn’t even sure if they patrolled at night (he knew he didn’t). The next day was basically the same, and all Brent could think about was the terror he’d helped cause, and Erica. If only he’d been with her when she died.

The kid
’s PSP did little to stifle the boredom, especially once it died. Brent took a nap in the afternoon, and had some wispy remnants of a dream in his mind when he woke up to Jeff screaming.

“Brent! Get the fuck over here! The fuckers are getting in!”

Brent snapped awake and hurried over as quickly as he could. The zombies had knocked down a major section of the wall, and Jeff was trying to hold them back. People nearby were panicking and backing up. Those who were not aware of the breach right off were wondering why they were being invaded, and then reacted to the news accordingly. It was mass chaos.

Zombies
started pouring in. Brent and Jeff worked hard to keep the rest of the barrier in place and try to plug the hole, while zombies shambled past them and dove at people.

“Where are the others?” Brent
said.

“I don
’t fucking know!” Jeff shouted over the screams and moans. Another piece of the wooden wall broke off, and hands grabbed at Jeff. “Fuck! Brent!”

Brent backed away
from the barricade. Jeff screamed for him to help, but Brent was frozen. He couldn’t move his legs for the longest time.

“Brent! Why are you just fucking standing there
?” Soon Jeff’s cries stopped, and he had been so badly torn apart that he didn’t even look like a person anymore. Brent didn’t know what to do. After standing around like a statue for a while, he took action. He opened fire on the zombies, especially the ones closest to the panicked crowd. Some people were attempting to tear down other barricades and get out, and Brent rushed to help them. He moved around the stadium doing what little he could.

As he moved from one survivor to another, he nearly tripped over a body. Brent realized it was Liam
’s. Jeff’s death finally hit him, and not too far off he saw Jim’s lifeless corpse as well. He didn’t care to look for his other friends. They were probably dead. The fact that he was still alive was nothing short of a miracle.

When Brent
finally stopped and looked around, there were dozens of bodies strewn about. Many of them were being feasted upon. He gagged, but felt good otherwise. Anyone still moving in the stadium seemed to be a zombie, and Brent almost felt like he had done some good in the world. It didn’t erase the bad or clean the blood on his hands. As he worked his way through one of the broken barriers, he wondered if God was real. If He was, Brent knew Erica was up in Heaven, and if he wanted to join her, he had a lot more good to do.

He crossed the parking lot feeling very light, almost like he was drifting, like his fish back home.
He found his car and drove away from the stadium in silence, and for the first time since this had begun, he felt at peace with himself. He was ready to join Erica in Heaven whenever God decided it was time.

Ghost Story

The sun beat down harshly on the dirt road as the man and the boy walked alongside it. The man did not have the luxury of a hat, and his receding hair betrayed his scalp to the violent heat. The boy did have a hat, and had offered it
to him many times, only to get the same answer.

The boy also had many questions. Having spent just over a decade on this planet, there was a lot that he did not understand.

The basic questions had all been answered hundreds of times over the years. What were those large metal shells strewn about the land? How did they get there? Why didn’t they work anymore? What were the snake-like things growing out of certain objects, the ones that connected to certain walls? And why didn’t those work, even when connected?

T
here were more important questions, too, but some of these did not have an answer; at least not one the older man could give. Why did the two of them hide if they heard someone coming? Why did they never meet anyone else, never increase in number?

What about the monsters?
Where had they come from? How many of them were there?

It had been a long time since they had seen people or monsters, and so they walked on
safely. They passed one of the metal shells along the road. It lay like the skeleton of some long-forgotten beast, its bones red and decayed, its skin gone, bleached away by the sun until little remained.

T
here was something along the horizon ahead. The road stretched on as far as they could see, and whatever they were approaching was rendered little more than a blur of heat and darkness.

They camped out by the side of the road that night, still unaware of what was up ahead on the road
. They ate, and the boy asked questions. His companion gave what answers he could, admitted when he was given a question he did not know the answer to, and ignored those questions he felt had answers the boy would not like.

The stars were bright and clear, millions of them, unobstructed by clouds or anything else. The moon was bright, but small. The older man had heard stories of it once being larger, but he did not lend his mind to myths of the old days.

In the morning, dew covered the two and their belongings, and it felt cold. They tried not to complain, as the day would only bring the sun and unbearable heat. If only the dew would last forever.

It was nearing midday when the man finally realized what it was that they had seen from afar, and the boy only watched in wonder as they approached it.

The skeletal remains of some great empire sprawled out before them. There were large chunks of rock scattered around and even full structures toppled over, strewn about like children’s playthings. Some still stood, but pieces of them were gone, revealing iron skeletons which beams of sunlight shone through.

Plants of many kinds had grown over much of what remained, especially anything close to the ground. The roads were not made of dirt, but of rock; cracked and broken as weeds and grass poked up through them.
Here there were more of the metallic shells around than either of them had seen in their entire lives.

Metallic poles
rose from the ground in some places, many of them were bent or leaning. Some swayed slightly in the breeze. Some of these were much taller than the others, and had rounded heads.

“What are those?” the boy asked.

“They’re torches,” the man said. He had heard of places like this, seen pictures in books, though those were rare. “A long time ago, these lit the paths for people. But they didn’t use fire.”

“Light without fire?” the boy
said. “That’s not possible.”

“No,” the man said. “Not anymore.”

“How many people lived in these places?”

Walking alone the terribly uneven road, t
he man looked at the structures they passed by. A whole stone face had fallen from one, the thing dissected by some long-past force. Inside were layers and layers of empty rooms. What little remained seemed to be broken wooden structures, decayed and molded, crumpled over. All around was stone.

“I
’m sure each one housed thousands,” he said. The passing breeze felt thick, as though the diminished ghosts of an age long gone were carried, worn and tired, along with it. The man felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, and he looked at the inside of the structure again. Somehow, he felt that no one had ever lived there, that these were used for something else entirely.

The two passed a small metal box, three of its four legs fused into the ground below
, the fourth bent upward over the hole in the stone it had come from.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.” There was a square hole in its face, and the lock on the side of this told the man that there once must’ve been some material here, that it was not always a hole. But it was gone now, and he wondered what kind of material these people had that kept things shut without closing them off, what kind of thing could disappear like that over time.

They passed a crossroad.
Here stood more of the long metal shafts, these ones with arms stretching sideways over the road, and from them hung little metal boxes. The boy thought to ask, but seeing the same sense of wonder in the man’s eyes decided against it. They crossed the road, weaving around the metal shells.

As they traveled on, they saw smaller structures. One of these had been ripped in half, and they could see inside. There were patches on the ground that were soft, like some sort of clothing had once covered the entire floor, though much of it was now worn down to rough fibers. The boy climbed up the rubble and into this place. He took the animal skins from his feet and pressed
his toes against the cloth on the ground. It was soft, and it felt nice on his sore, blistered feet.

In one corner of this place was a box. It was mostly deteriorated, and lay on the ground. The man, climbing the rubble to join the boy, lifted it when he got to it. Like the metal box on the side of the road, there was a hole in its face. Inside were contraptions and materials the man could not recognize. There was a wooden table, and the man placed this thing upon it. It teetered a bit, but did
n’t fall. There was one of those rope-like things which connected it to the wall, and it was still intact.

“What do you think it does?” the boy
said. The man looked around the interior, saw the decayed remains of what appeared to be some sort of bench, and it pointed straight at this thing. Everything left in the room seemed to compliment this box and draw attention to it.

“I don
’t know,” the man finally said. “But it looks like it was very important.”

The two left the wreckage and continued down the road. It was tough to walk on, especially compared to the soft ground that had been inside that place, but after only a few moments, their feet grew used to it again.

Nested in a gap between structures was a man-sized metal box. It had metal lids. The man lifted one, and inside, the box was empty. He couldn’t help but think of how useful the thing could be, how it could shelter them from the rain, protect them from the monsters. He couldn’t understand why it would be needed here, among these stronger, better structures. The two pressed on.

The sun was beginning to set, and it had been a nice day. The breeze was cool, and the structures cast long shadows over much of the area the two traversed.

They passed a smaller building. This one had a large, round hole near the top of its pointed roof, which culminated into some metal symbol; the man thought it resembled a tiny metal person standing there, arms outstretched, ready for some embrace. For a shadow of a moment, the man felt like he was not alone, like he was in a room full of people, warm and happy. It passed with the breeze.

The structures began to thin out, and eventually, the man could see that it gave way to a more open plain again. In the middle of the road lay another metallic thing, this one small and thin, with metal handles
at the center of one end of it. The man ignored the thing. He and the boy reached the outskirts of this place, and continued on. Before they had passed the last of the buildings, the man felt something on the breeze. It was almost like a soundless voice, like something calling out, a story with no words. The boy stopped walking. The man decided he must’ve felt it too. The two looked back into the town, down the darkening road. The grass blew in the breeze as it passed, but nothing else moved.

“Who do you think lived here?” the boy asked. The man thought. He closed his eyes, he listened to the breeze.

“I don’t know,” the man said. He felt a word calling to him, reaching out from the darkness of his mind. “Angels,” he said. The boy looked at him.

“Angels?
What are those?”

“
…I don’t know. Maybe they’re like ghosts.”

The two of them took one final look at this strange, empty place, then headed down the
road. In the distance, at the farthest reach of the horizon, the man thought the ground looked blue, and a cool smell entered their noses for a moment. It almost reminded them of the smell of rain. But the smell soon died out, along with the breeze, and the shadows of the structures gave in to the heat of the swiftly closing day.