Elements of the Undead: Fire (Book One) (22 page)
Read Elements of the Undead: Fire (Book One) Online
Authors: William Esmont
Tags: #adventure, #horror story, #horror novel, #postapocalyptic, #Arizona, #end of the world, #airplane crash, #Horror, #submarine, #postapocalypse, #zombie apocalypse, #horror zombie, #undead, #zombie, #action, #actionadventure, #desert, #thriller, #prostitute, #zombie literature, #zombie apocalypse horror, #horror zombies, #zombie book, #zombies, #Navy, #apocalypse
“How long…?” She tried to ask.
“A week,” the doctor replied. She blinked. Tears ran down her cheek. Her throat felt thick with snot. Jack shuffled his feet nervously, as if he didn’t know what to say next.
“How am I?” she asked, not able to meet the doctor’s eyes. She couldn’t bear to see his face if it was bad news.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Considering what you went through, you’re in surprisingly good shape. A few broken ribs, a moderate concussion, and your left eye are the only real problems. I haven’t detected any signs of internal bleeding, thank God.”
Megan swallowed. Their medical facilities were sparse. Major trauma was a death sentence, and would be for the foreseeable future, at least until they found a real doctor and better equipment. She brought her fingers up and probed the swollen skin around her bad eye. She felt a thick line of stitches.
The doctor frowned. “About that...” She understood. The eye was gone.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Jack asked.
“Pringle.”
He and Beth shared a quick glance. “Nothing else?”
“Kevin?” she croaked. “Where is he?”
Beth looked at Jack. “He didn’t make it.”
Megan closed her eye and recited a quick prayer for him. She hadn’t known him very well, but he had seemed capable and confident, a solid addition to the community.
“Alicia?” she asked.
Jack answered with a sad shake of his head. “She disappeared that morning. No one has seen her since that day.”
“Tell me everything,” Megan demanded.
So Jack told her. He started at the point when she, Pringle, and Kevin had disappeared into the building and ended with the moment he found her crumpled on the floor with her life hanging by a thread.
“I can’t believe he did this,” Megan said in a whisper when he finished.
Jack gave her hand a soft squeeze. “I know. Not now.” She wanted to press the point, to get some answers, but she was fading, and all of a sudden, nothing seemed quite as important anymore. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the doctor stepping away from her IV with an empty syringe in his hand.
“No…”
But it was too late. Oblivion wrapped her in its soft embrace, and she was gone before she could finish her thought.
Next
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Robert Frost, Fire and Ice
Thirty-Five
One week later
Megan raised the plastic cup to her mouth and took a sip. She coughed as a stream of lukewarm water went down the wrong pipe.
Ouch
. She winced and touched a hand to her chest. Her ribs ached. No.
Throbbed
. Not as bad as yesterday, thankfully, but not much better.
The doctor had said it would be several weeks before the pain went away, weeks until she healed, weeks until she would feel
normal
again.
Whatever that is.
She balanced the cup on her knee and stole a glance at Jack. He sat slowly flipping through one of Cesar’s notebooks in a leather recliner beside the bed. He murmured to himself, lost in his own bubble of concentration, oblivious to her gaze. Megan took another sip, taking care not to choke this time. A child laughed somewhere outside, and she smiled.
Despite her attempts at learning Jack’s story, he somehow managed to always turn the conversation away from himself and back to her, to the community. Something terrible had happened to him, she now realized, something so traumatic it had burned away his capacity for intimacy and left behind a hard, pragmatic core with no capacity for love.
He would heal eventually, she knew. She hoped. In the meantime, she would wait. Still, it pained her to watch him, so strong, yet so distant, trapped inside himself, struggling to exist in a world not of his making. Gone was the shame she had felt the morning before Pringle’s attack. Now, when she gazed into Jack’s eyes, something she did as often as possible, she was overcome with a sense of calm and strength more powerful than any drug. She was afraid she was falling in love. And the timing couldn’t have been worse.
Humanity hung by its fingertips, feet dangling over the precipice of extinction, yet here she was, thinking about this man who had been thrust into her life, dreaming of a future with him despite the staggering odds stacked against them both.
The undead were only a symptom, she had finally realized, a symptom of a broken society that would rather battle each other to the death than compromise for the greater good. It disgusted her.
Megan tried to recall the population of the United States before the collapse.
A few hundred million? Maybe more? How many are left now
? A soft sigh escaped her lips, and she shook her head in sorrow.
It doesn’t matter now. It’s all gone...
Megan could handle the undead. As long as they were careful and avoided drawing any swarms to the community, they would survive. But to be challenged by another group of people? That was beyond belief. It violated everything she had ever believed about humanity. In their time of greatest need, it was inconceivable that they would fight amongst themselves, severing the tenuous thread of humanity that connected them all. It was all they had left.
She drew in a deep breath and tried to push the thoughts aside, to focus on her immediate needs, to trust that everything would work out in the end. It was no use. Her heart pounded in her chest. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.
It’s time.
She unfolded her legs and slid to the edge of the bed. Sensing her movement, Jack looked up.
Megan held out her hand. “Could you help me up? It’s time.”
He leaped from his chair, put her arm around his shoulder and gently lifted her to her feet.
“Are you sure?”
Megan leaned her head against his neck, feeling the whiskers of his beard brush against her face. “I’m ready...”
Jack raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. His acceptance was unconditional. Arm in arm, they shuffled down the hall and out the door onto the porch. The courtyard was full. It was early, but already hot. People milled about, sticking to the shadows, dodging the late-morning sun.
She slipped from Jack’s grasp and patted his shoulder. “I can do this.”
“Okay.” He stayed close, shadowing her in case her strength faltered.
In halting steps, Megan shuffled to the railing, gripping the warm tubular steel with both hands for support. She steadied herself, her knuckles blanching with the effort. Cords of muscle stood out on her forearms. She stood there for a moment, surveying the community, taking in the mundane bustle of people going about their daily lives.
Across the courtyard a young man noticed her. He stopped. The roll of barbed wire he carried tumbled forgotten to his feet. He called out to a cluster of nearby women and pointed in Megan’s direction. Her stomach flip-flopped with anticipation.
Word spread quickly, and within a few minutes, the entire community stood before her. An excited murmur raced through the crowd. People smiled, raising their children on their shoulders and trying to get as close as possible.
Jack’s hand brushed her elbow. He whispered, “They need you…”
Megan scanned the crowd; her eyes slid from face to face until they became one. A hush descended. Feet shuffled on asphalt. Gravel crunched underfoot. Biting back her pain, Megan stood as straight as she could. She cleared her throat.
Then, with a final glance over her shoulder at Jack, she began to lay out her plan to reclaim humanity.
About the Author
William Esmont lives in Southern Arizona with his wife, two Great Danes, and one cat.
Fire
is his third novel. He is currently working on the sequel to his espionage thriller,
The Patriot Paradox
, and sketching out both the sequel and prequel to
Fire
.
If you enjoyed this story, please take a moment to leave a review. Reviews help sell stories, which in return allows William to work less and write more.
If you’d like to contact William, you can reach him thorough the following channels:
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www.twitter.com/WilliamEsmont
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