Wasting Away (27 page)

“We’ll
be away from this in no time,” I said, trying to comfort her.

She
wiped her eyes. “It’s not the death,” she began, “it’s the thought that nothing
will ever be the same again.”

I
slowly nodded my head. “That’s what gets me too. It’s not that we’re alone,
it’s the fact that we’ll always be alone.”

“I
can handle being with one person the rest of my life,” she said. “But we’ll
never be able to share who we are with anyone else. We’ll never have those
quirky neighbors down the street that come over unannounced. We’ll never go to
the movies together or go out to dinner.”

“We’ll
never have a proper honeymoon,” I said, offhandedly.

“Hell,
we’ll never even have the chance to get married,” she replied with a small
laugh.

“We
can always pretend,” I said. “Really, isn’t that what marriage is anyway?”

“I
suppose it is.” She adjusted herself in the seat and stared out the window.
“Most of the marriages I knew of were just make-believe, people going through
the motions because that’s what they were taught to do.”

“I
can’t argue.”

She
shook her head and looked over at me. “What’s funny is that in the short time
I’ve known you, I’ve had more meaningful conversations than in the years I was
married. It’s kind of sad.”

“That’s
the way it usually goes,” I replied. “I think couples eventually run out of
things to say.”

“We
have to promise each other that we’ll try to never get bored.”

“That’s
pretty hard to do,” I said, rubbing my chin.

“But
if we keep trying, if we refuse to give up on each other, maybe we can beat the
odds.”

“Yeah,”
I said with a quick nod. “I promise to do my part.”

“See?
There we go, that’s a start. Now we just have to keep that in mind if we ever
piss each other off.”

I
laughed. “If that ever happens and we
do
piss each other off, we have to
remember to compromise.”

“I
don’t have a problem with that,” she said. “If we ever get into a heated
argument, we should just go with my opinion because I’m a woman and I’ll hate
you forever if you don’t.” She grinned.

I
winked at her. “Agreed,” I said.

Chapter 26

I
pulled the truck off the road, along the ditch, and set the parking brake once
we were clear of the pavement.

“So
that’s it, huh?” Mary asked, looking across the compound.

“Yeah,”
I replied, “there isn’t much to it. From what I remember, there are a few
outbuildings and dormitories to the rear. Besides that, there’s the airstrip
and the bunkers at the other end.”

“What’s
that there?” Mary asked, pointing to a large metal building in the distance,
just past the hangers.

“I
think it’s a warehouse,” I said, “probably just storage.”

Her
eyes lit up. “That’s where we should start,” she said with confidence.

I
looked at her, puzzled. “Why do you say that?”

“Well
if there’s any documentation, that’s where it will be,” she answered.

“You
sound pretty positive about that.”

“It
just goes to figure that when they transferred everything to computers, they
had to store the paper files somewhere.”

“Makes
sense,” I said. “Then, the warehouse, it is.”

We
made our way through the ditch. Tall, yellow grass scraped our legs and
crunched beneath our feet as we wound toward the fence. A sweet smell came up
from our footfalls of long dead grass and the raw earth below.

I
bent down at the fence and cupped my hands. “You first,” I said.

Mary
placed her foot in my hands and stepped up, grabbing the top portion of the
fence where there was a break in the razor wire. With a few kicks, she was over
and I started up behind her.

The
outer parameter of the base was covered in gravel, extending to patches of
grass and weeds.

“Why
is the grass so green?” she asked, stepping in a lush patch.

“I’m
not sure,” I said.

As
if in reply, we heard a sound in the distance, a shudder below the ground. With
a droning whiz, the sprinklers came on in the middle of the field.

My
eyes flashed wide. “There’s power!”

Mary
began to laugh as she ran for the sprinklers. Her hair whipped behind her as
she spread her arms, embracing the cool spray. She twirled in place, gathering
momentum and fell to the ground. There was joy on her face as she sat there in
the grass. It was the first time I had ever seen her smile like that - the
first time I had seen the look of absolute happiness cross her face.

She
held her hands up over her head as if in surrender and stared up at the blue
sky. I couldn’t help but to watch her - the carefree movements of a woman
saved.

I
caught a glimpse of movement across the compound, just a speck of dark along
one of the outbuildings. I strained my eyes, glaring through the fine mist that
danced around me. A few dozen corpses staggered along through the foggy outline
of spray in the distance.

“Mary,
we have to go!”

She
followed my gaze and stood quickly when she realized we weren’t alone. I took
her hand and we passed through the last row of sprinklers toward the warehouse,
breaking into a jog once we hit the sidewalk. The dead moaned, their voices growing
in volume as they neared. We cut between a set of buildings and started to run.

As
we neared the warehouse, several bodies shambled out from the side. I drew the
pistol and pushed Mary behind me.

“Get
the door open,” I said as I stared down the dead.

I
could hear her fumbling with the door as I fired the first shot. A few yards
away, a body fell out onto the parched dirt. Its arms spread as it hit. A thick
gel of blood gurgled up from the hole behind its ear. I fired again as a corpse
neared the loading bay of the warehouse. Its face was nothing more than a
tangle of loose skin, hanging slack as it opened its maw and released a faint
hiss.

There
was a cold hand against my wrist, fingers digging into the skin. I brought the
pistol up and fired. A wet spray hit my neck. Mary hit the metal door with a
loud clank as the body let go of my arm and fell against her back.

“Hurry!”
I yelled.

“The
pin’s stuck,” she said with a grunt.

I
turned and grabbed for the clasp, wedging the grip of the pistol under the pin.
I hit the bottom of the weapon with the palm of my hand and the pin came free.

Something
knocked me hard against Mary and she wheezed as my weight knocked the breath
out of her. I felt pain shoot along my shoulder. I heard a pop before my skin
tore, a subtle rip as a swatch of fabric from my jacket went with it. I only
caught a glance of the creature as it cocked its head, a scrap of flesh
dangling from its mouth.  

I
put pressure on the wound with my left hand and turned.

Its
eyes were glaring as if it knew what it had done.

“You
motherfucker
!” I shouted, raising the gun. The barrel touched the tip of
its nose and I fired. Its head jerked back and it crumbled to the ground.

“Come
on!” Mary yelled, pulling me inside the warehouse behind her.

Inside,
she pushed me out of the way and slammed the door as a shadow of bodies grouped
around the opening. She pulled a bar across the doorframe and slid it into the
clasps at either side. I stumbled back into a stack of boxes and my legs went
weak. I slid to the floor, trying to blink away the haze that was filtering
away my vision.

I
could see Mary’s face between flashes of white. Her eyes were so sweet, but the
worry that washed across her expression terrified me.

“It
was trying to get you,” I said. My voice seemed far away as I spoke. “I put
myself in the way.”

“It’s
okay now. Just breathe,” she said, holding my face. “Everything’s fine. You’re
going to be all right. You’re going to be okay. Breathe …”

I
woke up on a cot, feeling along the edges of rough canvas. It was dark, but I
could see everything in a faint haze. Huge overhead lights glared down at me,
giant canisters fastened above the bulbs. I wondered why Mary hadn’t turned
them on.

There
was a painful throbbing in my shoulder and I glanced over to find a bandage,
saturated in blood.

This
is it
, I
thought.
This is how it ends. So long among them and one little mistake
takes it all away.

Mary
was shuffling through boxes on the other side of the room. She had determination
in her eyes and I watched her there for some time, breathing in her image.

She
glanced over at me. “You’re awake,” she said, walking toward me.

I
nodded my head slowly and blinked away the blur from my eyes. “What are you
doing?” I asked in a whisper.

She
shook her head and glanced back at the boxes. “I’m looking through some files,
trying to find out how we can get into the bunkers,” she said.

I
breathed a sigh and a rattle caught in my throat. “Mary, you have to get
yourself out of here. Don’t worry about me.”

“I
told you we’re doing this together or not at all,” she said, squinting.

I
shook my head. “Look at me, Mary.”

She
wore a stern expression. “I can see you just fine,” she said. “And I’m getting
you out of here.”

“Damn
it,” I coughed, “stop being so stubborn.”

She
knelt down beside me and placed her hand on my arm. “I don’t want to go on
without you.”

I
nursed a smile from the corner of my mouth and felt pain shoot down along my
arm. I winced. “I never got to say it before, but I love you.” I tried to look
her in the eyes, but my vision wavered.

“I
love you too,” she said, coughing back a tear.

“I
love you and I want you to live,” I stammered.

She
nodded and lowered her head.

“I
had the strangest dream,” she said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She sat up
next to me. “We were on a hillside, looking down at a valley below. The dead
were everywhere. For miles, bodies covered the land. Some had already fallen, their
bones picked clean by birds.”

“What
were we doing on the hill?” I asked as she wiped my head with a cold rag.

“We
were just watching the animals have their way with the dead.”

I
tried to smile.

“Why
is everything so dark?” I asked.

“We’re
still in the warehouse,” she said, brushing my cheek. “The dead are attracted
to the lights so I leave them off.”  

Her
hand felt so warm against my skin that it made me smile and think of soft
blankets.

“We’re
safe?” I wheezed.

She
looked like she was going to cry. “Yeah, we’re safe. They can’t get us here.”

“Good,”
I breathed.

“What’s
that sound?” My throat was dry and the words came quietly.

“The
dead,” Mary replied. “They’re still out there.”

“Aim
at their eyes,” I replied.

“Just
sleep …”

“I’m
sorry, Mary.”

She
leaned over me and placed her hand on my forehead. “Sorry for what?” she asked,
her voice laced in honey.

“I
promised I would never leave you,” I replied with a cough. I could feel my
lungs rattle in my chest. “And I don’t know if I can stay here anymore.”

She
put her hand over her mouth and turned away.

“Mary!”
I screamed. “Mary, where are you?” My question was lost in a roar of screaming
moans and rasping shouts.

I
saw a flash of white.

My
breath wouldn’t come. I opened my mouth wide, but there wasn’t any air on the
other side.

I
could hear the shots in the distance.

Mary
screamed.