The Failed Coward (15 page)

Something was pulling the wool over their eyes long enough for us to do what we had to do.

Once we’d checked the surrounding area for danger, Patty and Abby volunteered to go inside and clear the house in case there was something inside I shouldn’t see. I thanked them, but I said this was something I had to do. I wanted them with me, but I had to be first in, finger on the trigger.

I laugh now. Stupid things amuse me. I have kept my keys all this time. My key rings have all the keys for campus here as well as my car keys and my house key. I’ve also still got the key to Cassie’s car. It has never occurred to me to throw the keys I don’t need any more away. I’ve added keys to the rings, but I haven’t taken any off. How strange we are.

I walked up the steps to my front door and pulled open the storm door. The screen was still in the window from last summer. Seeing it made me remember how I used to leave the door open to get fresh air moving through the place. If I left the front door open with the storm door screen open, then went to the back and opened the kitchen slider, we got this wonderful cross breeze that aired the place out perfectly. I used to sit on the couch with Cassie and we’d watch television together with Otis sandwiched in the middle and…

Sigh.

I pushed my key in the lock and gave it a twist. I did it with my left hand so I had the Glock up and dangerous. I had this odd path of logic that using a shotgun was a bad idea in my own home. If I had to shoot something, I wanted to use my pistol so the collateral damage was mitigated. I know, strange eh?

Just as I was about to push the door in I had a strong flashback to my dream this morning. It all played out in my mind’s eye as I pressed the door inward. I saw Steve’s undead body turn towards the door as it swung in. I clearly recalled the angle of the golden sunlight streaming in through the window, and hitting his rotting face, illuminating the grey and blue flesh. I watched as he stumbled past the edge of my couch, and towards the open entrance, straight towards where I was now standing.

The flashback ran in my mind like I was watching an old 8mm film strip. When the yellowing, grainy film ran dry, my point of view had reversed, and instead of being inside, watching Steve shuffle away towards the opening door, I was seeing through my own eyes, bright and clear, into my living room.

I saw Steve coming at me, precisely as my dream had shown he would. He was wearing one of my old white tee shirts. It hung on him like a drape. I was always much larger than he, and his body had shrunk dramatically from starvation. He was gaunt, haunting, and the combination of yellowing shirt and bright white sunlight almost made him look like a ghost.

His jaw was shattered. One side of it hung down, scraping against the collar of the shirt. His left eye socket was ruptured, and the decayed brown eye hung loose and deflated on his cheek. It swung like a desiccated pendulum as he dragged his bad foot behind him. I instantly knew he’d tried to blow his head off by putting a gun to his chin. He’d gotten the angle wrong and managed to shoot his own face off instead. His death must’ve been slow, and terrible in every way imaginable.

So much pain. My heart broke apart for him knowing he’d probably come here to find me, to survive with me, and I’d ran off to make my own future, and save my ass.

I slowly brought up the Glock and leveled it off at the bridge of his nose. From behind me I heard Patty and Abby gasp. I don’t know how they knew, but they realized that the person in front of me was familiar to me.

As I started to squeeze the trigger gently, I locked my gaze with the one milky eye Steve still had left, and I swear on all that I have ever loved, or held dear, he looked relieved to see me.

I can’t believe I shot my best friend today. I’m sobbing. I can’t fucking believe I did it. I don’t even know what to say. I don’t even know if I should apologize, or beg for forgiveness, or thank him for warning me he was going to kill me.

And make no mistake Mr. Journal. My dreams were a warning from Steve. Somehow he knew I was coming. He reached out somehow, from far beyond whatever it is that life means, and he told me exactly how his undead body was going to try and kill me. 

He saved my life, and unless everything I’m feeling is wrong, I think I repaid the favor by putting his mortal form to rest.

I don’t know if I saved his soul, but I think killing his body for him gave him some peace. At least now, wherever he is, he knows that he didn’t kill me, and he is no longer a danger to anyone.

The regret of having not been at home for him eats at me. It seems the more time passes, the more regret I find for myself. I failed to save my mother. I failed to get to Dorothy and John’s home. I don’t even know if they’re dead or not. I failed to get to Steve’s place before he left town, and I failed to return home to be here for him when he returned. I failed to look for my local siblings.

I failed when Dan Haggerty tried to save his son, and instead killed Mrs. Goodell and those students. I failed when I met that young couple with the young boy at the gas station. I failed when I forgot to close the door at that farm on Jones Road. I failed when Sean and his goons came here and I didn’t kill him. Lt. Daniels and a slew of innocents died because of that failure. 

And we can’t forget my greatest failure of all, Cassie. 

I feel like there is so much blood on my hands now. All I wanted to do is help people, but it seems I’m not very good at doing that.

Humbling to sit here and evaluate myself. The truth really does hurt. It makes me realize just how shitty I am at being a hero. 

After today’s events, and the events of March 3
^rd
, and the dreams we all seem to be sharing, I am convinced that what is happening is far more than just a virus, or a plague, or a mind controlling fungus, or some toxic chemical the military made.

I can say this with absolute certainty; this is happening for a reason. I do NOT mean that there is a definite cause. I mean there is a REASON WHY this is happening. This is an event that is being controlled, or orchestrated by a power that is not rooted in science. 

As if I had to explain that. Fucking hell. There are ZOMBIES walking around in my hometown. I watched the world implode and eat itself on YoufuckingTube before the internet died. I’ve watched the undead rip the flesh from the living with gnashing teeth. Obviously science is missing something.

As I said before; I’m comforted by this epiphany. I sit here, almost happily, imagining that we are being punished for our misdeeds. I think of this as a great test, a final judgment day where we are tried for our misdeeds. 

And I think to myself this lone thought; I would rather try to be a hero and fail, than live as a successful coward.

I hope that the blood on my hands as a result of my efforts is not an indication of my failures, past, present, and future. I now have supreme faith that whoever, or whatever is watching knows that I am trying to do the right thing now. I just hope my good intentions don’t the pave the road to hell.

Steve, from the bottom of my heart, I miss you, I love you, and I thank you.

-Adrian

March 27
^th

A decent, uninterrupted night of sleep has given me the focus needed to gather my thoughts. As your parents always tell you Mr. Journal; sleep on it. Sage advice given the events of yesterday.

I’m writing this in the morning. I wanted to get this out of my skull before I go off gallivanting about here on campus getting things done, and reassuring my comrades that I am indeed of sound mind. Some of my day will likely be spent reassuring myself that I am of sound mind. It might take some serious convincing.

I didn’t have the mental fortitude to go over what I took from my house yesterday in last night’s entry. I think if I can get that out and on “paper” here real quick before I eat breakfast I’ll have a great day, and I’ll be able to move forward more effectively.

Steve’s body came back to campus with us. I took him to the funeral pyre we have out near staff housing, and I cremated him. I couldn’t leave his body behind in my house. Not only was it gross to leave a dead body in my own home, but I needed to do something for him. I couldn’t just... leave him there. I am debating doing something about my mother’s body if I ever get back to the senior home she died in. That’s a problem for a different day I suppose.

Steve had eaten every last morsel of food in my house, which frankly doesn’t surprise me in the least. He also ate the bag of cat food hidden deep in the pantry. Steve was the type of guy who ate constantly, and never put any weight on. Smoking weed all the time, eating Doritos, and making macaroni and cheese was what he considered exercise too. Lucky bastard. Obviously, not finding my own food was a letdown. I did manage to reclaim a few bottles of my own liquor from the closet. From the looks of it, he drank a bunch of that as well before he died. However, I did take most of my worldly possessions from before… the end.

Seeing the pictures of Cassie and I on the fireplace mantle was rough. I have never been the kind of person who kept pictures in his wallet, and seeing the folders of pictures here on the laptop just isn’t the same as seeing the pictures in frames, on the walls in my house. After sending Steve’s brains out the back of his head, looking at those pictures left me a little shook up. A lot shook up. Abby and Patty cleared the house of any danger while I started to pack shit up in the banana boxes we brought. 

Only fitting right? After all this time, the banana boxes come home with me.

I took all the pictures on the walls and mantle. Everything I tell the girls to leave behind when we clear houses came back with me. I even took the curtains. So funny. 

I am very pleased to have replaced my borrowed wardrobe with all of my own clothes. Much of them are large on me now, but it feels nice to wear the shirts I used to wear when things were normal. I am happy to support all my local athletics teams, and favorite bands, despite the fact that the members of them are likely all dead, and will never take to the field/court/pitch/stage again. It gives me comfort to trick my mind by wearing their shirts and hats.

I took much of my book collection. I’ve always been an avid reader, especially having a job where I had a lot of downtime. I used to buy books by the bag. Cassie used to tell me to buy a Kindle to save on space in the condo, but it’d be pretty useless now. I’m glad I bought all these books now. I’ve got entertainment for... a long time. If I ever find downtime to sit and read that is.

I grabbed all my movies and video games. I also grabbed my own PS3, because I’ve got save data on that motherfucker for games I haven’t beaten yet. 

Fuck you apocalypse, I’ve still got a video game agenda.

I grabbed batteries, flashlights, shoes, boots, jackets, sheets, my remaining melee weapon collection, and even some furniture. Cassie and I have got a great living room set, and that fucker fit perfectly in the back of the Chevy. Mind you the entire interior of the HRT was filled to the ceiling with boxes and whatnot, but at the time, I didn’t want to leave anything I knew I wanted behind. I also grabbed my television. We had a widescreen HDTV too, and despite already having one in Hall E, two is always better than one, and while in Rome… Get a big television to watch porn in your bedroom on. Cross that off the list of things to do.

The vicinity of my place remained clear of danger the entire time we were extricating my shit. You can’t tell me that’s just good luck. Pretty frigging obvious we had some kind of a truce running for a bit with the powers that be. I’m thankful they gave us some time to get it done, because at the time, I would’ve made for a pretty shitty combatant.

The drive home was clear of undead until we got about a quarter mile away from my place. Ironically, we were right near Steve’s place when we saw the zombies reappear magically from the surroundings. Almost as if they were plucked away long enough for us to do what we needed to do, and then returned once we were done. Every one of us exchanged strange looks and radio messages. 

I didn’t do any of the driving home. They wouldn’t let me. Probably a good decision. 

When we finally made it back to campus I was not in any shape to unload everything, so we got the furniture inside Hall E, I dealt with Steve’s body and then I turned vegetative. Everyone else stepped up for me though, and made sure I was taken care of.

Yesterday really taught me that I can lean on these people. Hard if I have to. They’re far more than just fellow survivors, they are my family now. My parents are long gone, and I don’t know where my brothers and sister are, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again. Even if they do come back into my life, Abby, Patty, and Gilbert are now permanent fixtures in the book of Adrian. I can’t imagine trying to survive all of this without them here.

Today we are unpacking my stuff, and getting it into my room here. I’ve got so much crap now that I need to take up a second room. In fact, after I get everything inside, I’m going to ask if anyone minds if I knock out the wall that adjoins the small dorm room next to mine. It’s peanuts to get it knocked out and fixed up, and it’d almost double my bedroom size. Then I will actually have room to walk around in here. My new bed is quite literally taking up all the space. Fucking dorm rooms, always too small. I swear morons or Halflings design them.

After today… We might take tomorrow off to plan for the future. I think I am ready to move forward with our plans to clear more houses in the town. We need the supplies as well as trade bait for the Westfield people, and we’ll be putting more dead folks to rest as we go. I am also positive that somewhere in town we will find more survivors. I know my original plan to build safe houses is still a good one, but I think we might find enough people in town that are continuing to hide that we can re-establish a town. 

I am starting to feel a call to duty in this regard. Saving people is a noble duty. Every zombie we put down isn’t just a threat removed, it’s a soul saved.