Day One (Book 1): Alive (11 page)

She handed me a single round to which I took and looked at carefully. “That’s a law enforcement round. Low recoil for smoking bad guys with great ease, so it’s very manageable.”

“Fair enough,” I replied and took a quick look at the ghost ring sights. “What about these sight on it though? You don’t really have to aim with a shotgun; just get in the general area and boom.”

“Actually, you do. Depending upon the distance you are from your target, if your pushing the ranges and you don’t aim, you could easily just wound or simply miss the target altogether,” She stated. “And that has a twelve and a half inch barrel on it, so aiming would be wise unless they are right on top of you.”

I was impressed with her knowledge of firearms and nodded my head. “I guess you could be right about that.” I handed it back to her.

“I’m still alive aren’t I?” she commented, as she took the weapon.

I leaned against the wall and threw my eyes over the other pile of weapons she had nearby. I could see handguns of different sizes and shapes on a small worn out couch, several more shotguns against the wall next to the couch, an open trunk full of what looked like assault rifles and two bolt action rifles with larges scopes were on the table before her.

“Where did you get all of this stuff?” I asked eagerly.

“Everywhere,” she replied. “In case you haven’t noticed or heard a word I’ve said, the world has gone to hell on an express elevator. These things are just randomly lying about.”

I took a moment to think about all those people I’d known and grown up with. I never attempted to call or text any of them about the possible danger. I thought about my wife lying on the kitchen floor and my step-daughter hovered over her, and then coming at me. I thought about how I had watched Mary die and never raised a finger to help her. The cowardly feelings returned. The hate for myself wasn’t far behind.

“I want to thank you for what you did. There aren’t very many people who would have done what you did for a complete stranger, even with me babbling about killing you,” I said to her, hoping that she would see it that way.

“A child should never be forced to suffer,” she replied and turned away from me.

I felt the awkwardness begin to drag and wondered if I should leave her alone. I couldn’t think of anything more to say and standing there looking at her probably wasn’t the greatest idea. The last thing I needed was for her to think I was a weirdo or something.

She could see I was in deep thought about something. “A penny for your thoughts?”

“Some things are best left unsaid,” I said.

“And some aren’t,” she replied.

“I don’t really know what I’m thinking… why I don’t feel anything when I should or why I should have done that, but did this instead,” I told her.

“That’s normal. You’re just going through survivor’s guilt, and it will pass in time.”

I looked at her as though she were crazy. “Normal? This is not normal, by any means! I lost my wife and did nothing to help, watched people I have known my entire life die in front of me, and once again did nothing to help… all I could do was scurry away like some frightened rabbit, worried about my own ass and no one else! There’s nothing normal about that, lady!” I hadn’t meant to be an asshole to her, I just sort of got out of control and the emotion bled through.

She gave me her full attention by turning toward me and leaning against the opposite wall. “So you are convinced in your mind that you are a coward because you fled instead of risking your life to save these people when you had your daughter with you, right?”

I simply nodded, as words eluded me.

“Courage isn’t the actions of someone that isn’t afraid of dying. It’s actually quite the opposite.”

“Is that so?” I said snidely.”

“Yeah, it is.”

I shrugged my shoulders at her words.

“It’s someone who is scared shitless, but still chooses to help another person, which is exactly what you did. So don’t label yourself anything short of that, because it took a lot more than you’re giving yourself credit for, to do the things you had to do to keep your daughter alive.”

“And let others die in the process.”

She crossed her arms and shook her head. “You can’t save everyone. The fate of the world and everyone in it is not in your hands. Things happen for a reason, we don’t understand why, but they still happen for a reason.” She pushed away from the wall and stopped in front of me. “You did the very best given the situation you were in. Your daughter still being alive proves that.”

Her words caressed me; however, I didn’t feel motivated by them. I didn’t feel like a hero of any sort, but more and more like a cowardly failure. “No matter how you wrap it up or the amount of ribbons and bows you put on it. A coward is still a coward.”

She shifted her position and leaned against the metal wall again. “I can understand that you’re going through something difficult, I get that. But now is not the time to start turning on yourself and those around you, especially those that went out of their way to save your ass, as well as your daughters.” Her tone began to flare.

“Excuse me because I’m not taking the end of the world as lightly as your gun totting ass is! You probably love this shit, and if so then good for you, but I have people that mean the world to me that I cannot protect, and one I put behind my own needs!” I exclaimed.

She bit her lip, nodded to the comment and abruptly walked out of the container. I felt the mistake slap me across the face. I had no idea who she was or if she had anyone that meant the world to her that was still alive. I had taken the only person I’d met so far, minus the two assholes in the gas station, and pretty much acted like a spoiled little brat who hadn’t gotten his way.

“Dammit.” I hit the wall, hurting my hand and went after her.

Coming out of the container into the bright sunlight, I saw her ten feet away. She was rigid and still, as though in deep thought about something. More than likely about what I had just said to her, which made the feeling she held even more visible. I deserved any amounts of anger she could dish out. Any obscenities she could fire at me without holding anything back… and I expected it.

“Look I didn’t mean…”

She hushed me instantly and the feeling of grief I had for her suddenly changed to anger.
How dare you get shitty with me! And here I was coming to apologize for being a jerk and now you’re acting like one yourself.

As if she could hear his thoughts, she pointed toward a small clearing fifty yards away, then with two fingers pointed to her eyes, telling me silently that she saw something. Her hand slowly moved to her right thigh, where she had a thigh holster and a pistol in it. I could tell the situation was spiraling out of control quickly and all I could do was think about Kember, who was in the tent to my right, ten feet away and much closer to whatever she had seen. Whatever it was that she had spotted was closer to my daughter.

“Stay there,” she whispered, once again hearing his thoughts. The pistol was now out of the holster, yet hung next to it in her hand. She wasn’t sure what she had seen but her gut was telling her that danger was coming. “Catch,” she said and tossed me her pistol, as mine was still inside the container where our heated discussion had been.

“What about you?” I asked after catching the pistol.

She opened her jacket and pulled an SBR (short barreled rifle) into view. She grabbed the charging handle and chambered a round. The weapon was evil looking with its black color, long magazine in dull grey and stubby front grip. It was short and she’d been able to conceal it from me during our little conversation. I had never seen anything like it before and it concreted her threat level. She wasn’t someone to be trifled with. She quickly pulled a small round tube from a jacket pocket and fastened it onto the end of the rifle. I thought it was a silencer, although I wasn’t much of a gun nut, so it was simply a guess.

“Don’t shoot unless you have too,” she whispered and slowly moved toward the clearing hunched forward and low to the ground. I watched her in aw; amazed at the courage she had in the face of approaching danger like it was nothing. I envied her at that moment, wanted to be just as brave as she was, but knew I never would be. I was a coward after all and my actions ratified that, so as she moved toward the possible threat, I moved away from it and inched toward the tent where my Daughter was.

The only concern I had, other than my Daughter’s safety, was what I would do if the Young Girl was killed in her brave advance. I didn’t know where I was, didn’t know which direction the interstate was, and would have no real clue which way to run if the shit hit the proverbial fan.

Movement caught my eyes and I thrust my head in its direction to see two of those things mingling through the trees only twenty or so feet away. They hadn’t noticed me yet and I would do everything within my power to keep it that way. I lowered myself to the ground and pointed the pistol in their direction; remember what she had said to me about not shooting unless I had too. That I could do, however, if they spotted me or went for my Daughter I’d shoot without mercy. I silently prayed that they didn’t see me.

The Young Woman made her way to the clearing and from several large bushes was able to watch the things move parallel to her position, unaware that she was nearby at first until one of them stopped and began sniffing the air, like an animal would do in search of its next meal. She slowly slid the safety off of the weapon and with it pointed toward the ground, pushed the collapsible stock into her shoulder. If they moved at her she would simply lift the barrel, use the red dot sight and eliminate them with little to no noise. The other three things stopped and also began sniffing the air. The Young Woman brought the weapon up and quickly dispatched them.

I couldn’t get any lower to the ground without becoming the ground myself. I was frozen with fear that if I moved the things would notice me and immediately attack. The gunshots that followed would no doubt bring more of those things around and the small peaceful place we were enjoying would become a killing ground.

They changed direction and in doing so, quickly spotted me. I expected them to run wildly at me as they had done several times in the past; however, they closed the gap in a hurried shuffle – no faster than if they were heading somewhere they didn’t ultimately want to go. As they grew closer the stench of decomposing rot filled my nostrils and I looked away only for a second to keep from vomiting. In the sunlight I was able to see flesh hanging off of them and noticed they could no longer run. Or at least those two couldn’t. More and more I tried my best to understand what was going on, but the more I tried the more my brain told me that dead people could not walk around, let alone have the mental ability or capacity to attack the living.

“Don’t make me do it,” I whispered with the pistol aimed in their direction.

They snarled at me and tried to move faster, although it did them no good to try as one had its foot missing and the other had a major portion of its pelvis exposed and missing as well. I could no longer deny what I had been thinking the whole time. In my mind I thought we were up against living humans that had gone psychotic… they weren’t mentally troubled. They were dead, but still moving around. They were undead.

How in the hell is that even possible… how?

They were ten feet away and closing the gap quickly. I didn’t want to shoot, out of fear of drawing more that might remain somewhere close by in the woods that surrounded us, and I couldn’t bring myself to gun them down out of moral beliefs. No matter what I saw with my own two eyes, no matter how impossible the sight appeared to me, at one time or another they were human beings and I could not get that out of my head. I was in between a rock and a hard place. It was time for me to listen to what the Young Woman had said and do something, instead of stand back and just watch the world burn. I had to either be someone that could do whatever was necessary to survive, or I needed to not be part of the world anymore.

Two faint muffles sped over my head and the closest one’s head popped like a balloon. I glanced over my shoulder to see the Young Woman race up and quickly gun the second one down. She stood poised with the SBR swinging from left to right looking for further threats to engage.

Her senses were alive and heightened. She was ready for another fight; I could see that in her eyes. “Get up and get your daughter.”

I sprang to my feet and raced to the tent to where Kember was still asleep, picked her up and moved back toward the Young Woman. “Now what?”

“In the container.”

I looked at her shocked with her words. “Are you kidding me? Once we go in there we cannot see out and there could be more of those things around – a whole hell of a lot more! If they surround us, then there is no escape and we’ll die!”

The thought of a slow painful death entered my mind. Although there was plenty of food and water inside, it would eventually give out and those things would not leave, as they knew where we were. They were dead, which meant that they were no longer bound by the same laws we humans were. They would not tire in a chase or grow winded; they’d shuffle forever until they rotted into nothing or were shot down.

She looked at me with the fight still alive in her beautiful eyes. “There was no gunfire for any of them to hear.”

“But there could still be more out there,” I added, trying to imply that my case held validity, even if it was just a sliver and only mattered to me.