Operations picked up again after the few days of rest. The red haired woman’s father expanded operations, planning for our missions to be farther away and more difficult than before. He told us we needed to venture farther South to stay as far away from Tuckerton as possible. Everyone agreed to the more difficult missions without hesitation; the thought of encountering anything like Tuckerton again was too much to handle. We were warned to stick to small areas and towns, completely avoiding any main cities; they were too dangerous. Like we needed another reminder.
Many, including myself and the red haired woman, were reluctant to go out again at all, especially after suffering through the hell that broke out in Tuckerton. It didn’t matter that we were in desperate need of supplies; we were still paralyzed by the loss of our friends.
Yet, after reminding ourselves that the best way to remember those we’d lost was to survive and beat the infected, we were able to continue on with the missions afforded us. We went to places that took days to reach, finding little, and making long journeys back, returning with barely enough to keep everyone going for a few days at a time.
A long and fluid stream of months passed like this. The continued fight for survival intensified over time as the supplies around us dwindled, but we made due. It got to the point where we stopped finding anything useful, making the missions we performed wastes of time and energy.
Around that time, the red haired woman’s father forced us to ration our food even more, allowing us to eat only twice a day. And the meals were meager servings, barely enough to quiet the pangs my stomach made throughout the day. My little girl suffered the most; she was still growing, and needed a lot more food than what she was given.
I started giving her most of my meals to keep her from starving, forcing me to go most days with only one meal in my belly. It took a while to get used to, but eventually I could ignore my hunger and focus on the missions I’d go on. The red haired woman saw how thin I was getting and tried to spare some of her food whenever she could. I also started stealing some of the supplies we found, if any, but I stopped after a while because the guilt was worse than starving to death.
One day, two of our least experienced guys said they couldn’t take it anymore. They complained about starving, wasting time, and any other thing they could think of. After their meaningless rant, they took their weapons, gathered all of their stuff, and left. The red haired woman’s father didn’t care. He let them go, gave them ample supplies, and wished them luck. We found their bodies picked clean on the side of a dirt road a few days later. The red haired woman was able to recognize them by the gear they left behind. After we found those bodies, all of us were reminded how badly we needed to depend on each other. Soon after, everyone on the base became a close-knit family. We began to rely on each other and stick close together, looking out for each other in every way possible.
The red haired woman and I bonded again as well. We quickly got past the awkwardness from before and were able to treat each other as close friends. We’d go on walks every few days or so, talking more about our lives, our hopes and dreams, and what we imagined ourselves doing if the outbreak had never occurred.
She imagined herself as a prominent nurse working in a major hospital. She’d be saving lives every day, giving hope to the broken, and following in her mother’s footsteps. She even imagined that she’d be working underneath her mother, forming the most dynamic duo ever to hit the nursing world.
She’d come up with all sorts of scenarios that’d involve them saving lives just in the nick of time. She told me she liked the most intense stories better, like the ones involving pulling a person back from the brink of death, because the differences she’d see there were greater than that of a pure and simple encounter.
She said that people were more likely to transform their lives when they seemed to have lost everything, but were able to come back and salvage them. She repeatedly told me that suffering produced character, and that people would find out who they truly were when they’d lost everything.
One thing she mentioned really got me thinking at that time. She told me that, in our human nature, once we’ve lost everything, we have two options: we can either rise up and choose to fight for something, or we can slowly be transformed into a monster worse than any infected. And that monster would destroy everything. Not just the person, but everything around them as well. The destruction would continue until that person was standing on the ruins of themselves and their life.
Her thoughts made me uncomfortable, making me wonder what I was becoming. I focused inward, keeping careful watch on myself, hoping that I’d fight and never become the monster she’d described.
After telling me that, the red haired woman told me she was so adamant about those life and death scenarios because she’d find out who the people around her truly were, even her mother. At the same time, they’d put her to the test as well. She wasn’t sure, but she wanted to find out who she really was too.
She continued on with her dreams, telling me how she could see her mother and herself pouring through countless medical journals and research articles to find ways to conquer incurable diseases that devastated a person. Racing against the clock, holding death in the left hand and life in the right, nobody could really tell which way it would go. However, despite all odds, they’d be able to do it; they would accomplish the impossible.
I admired her dreams. She was kept such a deep-seeded hope that helped her carry on the memory of her mother while remaining firm in herself as well. Just as she’d thought about her life without the infection, I also wondered what I’d be doing if the infection never happened.
I saw myself as a janitor for two or three more years, scraping by until I could find a firm that’d let me be a lawyer again. While doing that, I’d be with my wife and child, maybe with another one on the way. Scraps would be getting bigger, causing more havoc as he trashed the house while having all of us rolling on the floor with laughter. I saw mine and my wife’s child, either as a boy or a girl. Either way, it’d be our child; it’d be the accumulation of our joy, our love, our pain, and our undying commitment to each other.
I saw my boy; he’d grow up well, taking after me in his nature, but retaining many of my wife’s delicate yet sturdy features. He would be a sports-minded person that balanced that nature well with his academics. He’d grow up to be someone important, like a CEO of a company or something. He’d use all of his resources for the greater good, making us proud.
I saw the other side if my child as a girl. She’d take after her mother, but would have some of the harder features of my body. She’d be sassy, but would be able to show unbelievable depth through the compassion and empathy she’d have for others. She’d want to live a simple lifestyle as a teacher, just like her wondrous mother. She’d raise up the next generation through teaching, creating an environment that allowed the children to flourish.
Above all, imagined my life with my beautiful wife. We’d be so happy; we’d love each other so much. I’d be content to lie in her arms, letting her stroke my hair with light caresses. I’d be honored to wake up in the morning, way before she did, to make her breakfast in bed and bad coffee that always needed more creamer to be tolerable.
We’d go on long walks, simply dwelling in each other’s presence. I’d come back home from work and get dinner cooked and ready for when she’d return from a long day of teaching. She’d be the queen of my life; she would be my better half, my soul.
I could see the piece of me that left so long ago when she died; when she was ripped out of my life by bitter circumstance. It was nice to imagine being with her again, but it carried some traces of still fresh pain. It hurt to think these things, but it helped me cope. At least I could have what I truly wanted in my dreams.
I wanted to be naïve, to convince myself that in some other dimension or in some other world we could be happy together. I wanted to believe that there was still hope, even though it never existed in the first place.
>
I also thought about the future of my little girl at the base. If all of this hadn’t happened, saw where she’d end up. She would’ve been happy with her mother and father. I saw her growing up well in school, playing soccer in her spare time, and practicing whenever she could find time to. She’d have a natural affinity for artistic expression, creating impressive pieces that’d reflect her heart in the world. She’d excel in every area of her life due to her own drive, spurred on by the undying support of her loving parents. I became depressed while pondering how she would’ve grown up into a beautiful woman. Her father would cry tears of joy as he walked her down the aisle to the man of her dreams on her wedding day. Then she’d live in her happily ever after, or at least as close to it as she could possible get.
But all of these futures were cast aside by the reality before us. We’d have to forsake what could’ve been for the horrible present gnawing away at our hopes and dreams.
In all reality, these walks and thoughts were a great release. I’d allow myself to let loose some of what’d been eating me up inside. Giving presence to the loss of my family let the giant festering hole in my heart grow slightly smaller; not by much, but still, it grew that much smaller.
Not only did the red haired woman and I bond again, but the whole community surrounding us grew much closer as well. Since an operation would take about two and a half days round trip, even the most socially awkward of us was forced open eventually. We shared memories about former lives, hopes for the future, and also found comfort in the present with a new family surrounding us. This brought us together, and it also helped the missions seem to feel shorter.
Even thought this helped a lot, there was something else that was gluing us together, making us inseparable as we went scavenging around in the wilderness. It wasn’t because of some magical dynamic of goodness or anything; it was mostly due to the fact that we were all afraid of the dark.
The dark is where the shadows were; the dark is where the infected thrived. I’d heard and seen many instances that proved it. During most of our missions, the infected came after us late into the night. They’d strike in the darkest and quietest part of the night, under the deep cloak of silence surrounding us.
Every attack was a surprise that had us on high alert. No matter how much we prepared, the infected snuck past our defenses and crept close to our necks. They made no sound as they rushed us from the deep shadows of the night, sneaking off with one of our friends when we left ourselves unprepared. They truly were demons; they knew how to hunt us and find us wherever we were.
Operations quickly became a thing to be feared, not anything to feel obligated to help others by. At the same time, my own fear of the dark increased a thousand times because of the nightmare I’d been having.
The same dream returned over and over again. I never knew when it’d come; it came whenever I got a chance to sleep. I started avoiding sleep as much as I could, fearful that I’d be haunted by horrible visions whenever I’d close my eyes. But the need for sleep always wore me down and sent me spiraling into the evils of my mind.
It always started out the same way: I’d be in complete darkness and desperately claw at the nothingness before me, hoping to break through and find any source of light. Soon, a cold fear would sweep over me. It was an icy dagger that’d grate itself against my spine, making my body shiver as the black hopelessness lied before me. I’d look frantically in all directions, finding no hope of escape. While paralyzed in the complete darkness, I’d feel something watching me, hunting me, thirsting for me. Then I’d run; I’d break out into a full on sprint, trying to escape the unknown enemy coming after me. It felt like I wouldn’t make any progress; I only found more darkness to run to.
All of a sudden, my feet would be thrown out from under me and I’d fall face first on the ground. I would hit it hard, which caused me to close my eyes and taste the warm blood filling my mouth. I’d feel the thick, cudgeled blood ooze out of my face, leaking out onto the rest of my body and coating me in a thick film of crimson slime.
As I would start rising to my feet, the darkness before me would illuminate with brilliant stars filling a quiet sky. I’d be reminded of being at the base and seeing every interstellar connection between each extraterrestrial body.
I’d look around me as the darkness receded and the world took shape around me. I’d find myself in the middle of an endless field of waist-high grass. It would sway in an untouchable breeze, inviting me to walk through. I’d still have an uneasy feeling in the back of my mind, causing all of my hair to stand on end. With an unknown enemy still coming after me, my body would warn me to keep moving.
I’d walk through the field gazing at the stars, trying to keep myself from looking behind me. Every instinct told me not to look back; it would mean certain death.
After walking for some time, I’d come across my home. Not the base, but the house I lived in prior to the outbreak. It’d be in unnaturally good condition, given that it should’ve been in a severe state of decay due to the flow of time. A disturbed feeling would lead me towards the house; even the house itself beckoned me, inviting me to tread near.
By this time, I’d have a cold sweat all over my body in fear of what was to come. There was some ominous feeling that was causing my heart to hurt. The pain of my face hitting the ground would subside as my sweaty hands would rub my aching chest. I’d make my way onto the porch, heading towards the door. I always stopped when my hand turned the doorknob.
A sensation of pain would shoot through my heart, paralyzing me for a second. As I stood there paralyzed, I’d feel someone behind me; they were breathing in my ear, filling my body with hate, disgust, and fear at the same time.
Then, in one quick movement, I’d throw the door open, leap into the house, and slam it close behind me. My trembling hands would find the lock and slide it into place. Once the reassuring click of the lock broke the silence, I’d fall to the ground breathing heavily, evidence of a close call. Then I’d get up and step into the middle of the empty house. There wouldn’t be any furniture on the first floor. As I’d walk around, the emptiness would leave me wondering where everything was. After surveying the first floor, I’d make my way to the second. There was where everything went wrong.
I’d ascend the stairs slowly, getting another uneasy feeling with every step I’d take. I’d feel suspended, as if each step was a thin ledge overlooking a cliff that hung above endless darkness. There was no security there; each step would bring me closer to my fall.
I’d reach the top of the stairs and look around. The first thing I always saw was the trail of blood come into view; It came out of nowhere. It would boil out of the flooring, bubbling and hissing before me. Then it would spread across the white carpet, filling it with a vivid red. I’d scan the floor, seeing the thick, fresh blood trail leading from where I stood to the door of my bedroom.
I’d get sick to the stomach, fearful of what monster could’ve done such a thing. Then I’d look around the second floor again. Four doors: one to the nursery, one to the bathroom, one to a closet, and one to my room.
I’d walk down the hall to the bedroom, never skipping a beat. I’d try to open the door, but the knob would refuse to turn. I’d put my ear against the door; nothing would break the eerie silence. Then I’d try to pry it open. After a few failed attempts with the knob, I’d kick the door in. It always opened to a horrific crime scene.
The floor of the room would be stained crimson. The walls would shine in the invisible light of the room, forcing me to look at the streaks of blood painting them. I’d see a woman on the floor, holding a child. Next to their lifeless bodies would be the corpse of a small dog. I’d rush over to them and scan their bodies. The dog would be chewed through at the neck, showing that the spine was the only thing connecting head to body. The collar would have a shine to it, allowing me to see the name of the dog; it was Scraps.
Tears would well up in my eyes as I’d turn from Scraps to the other bo
dies. I hoped it wasn’t them; I was wrong every time.
The bodies were no doubt those of my wife and child. My child’s corpse would be missing its head, and fresh blood would be spurting out of its neck. The corpse of my wife would be cradling the child deep into her chest in her lifeless arms. She’d have deep scratches on her neck that were bleeding out. At the same time, she’d be eaten through at the chest, allowing me to see the broken heart in her gaping chest cavity. Tears would flow heavily down my face as I’d take in the scene. I’d throw myself to my knees, bringing my family closer. I’d cradle their corpses, smothering myself in their death as sobs would choke my body.
In the midst of my suffering I’d hear footsteps. They’d be dull and heavy at first, but then became louder with each passing moment. Something was inside the house! I’d turn around, looking intently into the dark hallway. The footsteps would get louder and louder, banging against the floors of the house. They seemed to pierce through the walls, echoing in my head.
Paralyzing fear would grip me as I’d sense the demonic presence of the unknown. I would question the darkness, hoping to see my enemy. When the last question would leave my lips, two evil white eyes would flash open, and a nasty grin would unfurl beneath them. Its teeth would be yellow and mangy, and green slime would drip from them. I couldn’t move; everything inside of me kept me pinned to the ground. The creature would step slowly out of the darkness, rising up and facing me. The light of the room would allow me to see the figure more clearly.
How was my face over there? How could that even be possible? Yet, it would be there; it would be my face and my body, completely recognizable underneath the decay of the rabid infection. I was the enemy, I was the creature, I was the monster!
He would step into the room heavily, coming right up to my face. He would be leaning in so close I could reach out to feel his warped flesh. Then he’d let out a scream that made everything within me explode; it would fill the room, the house, and the very crevices of my heart with suffering. Then he’d lean far back, making me flinch as I could hear flesh rip and bones snap. His contorted body would rise up high, towering over me. Seeing my despair, he’d open his mouth, lunge towards me, and swallow me whole.
That’s when I woke up. The first few times scared those who were with me; I awoke with a terrified scream while shivering in painful agony. But over time I got used to it. Soon, I’d wake up with a small whimper and find myself in a thin film of sweat.
Everyone in the group worried for a while, but they eventually got used to me whimpering through the night. Still, the red haired woman couldn’t stop worrying about me. I’d always tell her that I was fine, but she and I knew that I wasn’t. Naturally, since sleep was such a burden to me, I’d volunteer to guard our group through the night. I was too scared to sleep; it hurt my heart too much to try.
As we neared the end of our ropes, the red haired woman’s father forced us to travel even farther into the deep areas of the forest. We became truly desperate, looking for anything that would let us survive just a little longer. What made this worse was that the presence of the infected began to grow. They became desperate as well; they started attacking our groups multiple times in one night. We fended them off, but they’d impatiently wait for us in the shadows, looking for a moment of weakness in order to strike.
We had a few casualties, and many groups came back with nothing of true value to us, which caused a panic. Food became scarce, and everyone started to fend for themselves. As unrest ruled us and we became savages, the red haired woman’s father initialed martial law.
He and his most loyal followers put everyone in their place, warning that if anyone participated in an act of insurrection or tried to steal from what little we had stored away, they’d be shot. He told us to follow his orders without question, and any act of defiance was worthy of death. We knew he was serious, but a few people tried to fight back. They were showered with bullets when they tried to steal food, and the rest of us made sure to follow every order obediently after that.
The base that seemed like a home for this long turned into a prison. It actually made me a little glad to leave the base on missions because I’d get a little freedom from that confinement. Everyone else seemed content with it, hoping to return from a mission as soon as possible and back to the false security of the base.
Time passed under this regime, and all of our resources were dwindling into nothing. In desperation, the red haired woman’s father created a last ditch effort to find something, if anything, and also give us time to figure out a plan so everyone could survive. Late one night, he called a meeting of all the manpower we had left; everyone was to play a role in this desperate operation.
When everyone had gathered in the large floor space of the house, the red haired woman’s father ascended the stairs and spoke from the banister above us. He went through a long dissertation about our current situation: we were a lot of manpower short, our supplies were almost completely drained, the infected were becoming more and more aggressive, venturing nearer to our base every single day, and everything else we already knew.
After reminding us of the predicament we were in, he spoke of a place where we could go and try to find supplies. A few days travel away was a large bridge connecting two small towns. His plan was for all of the remaining manpower, save a few to remain behind to guard the others, to go to this place and find anything, if anything, for us to survive. He finished by saying, “This is our last and final option; we don’t have any choice left.”
He stopped and let the silence creep into the room. Everyone looked around, hoping for someone to speak up and agree to the mission that could so easily go wrong. After some more awkward silence, the red haired woman’s father spoke again. He aimed his statement at me, calling me out by name. All eyes turned to me as he yelled out, “Well? What do you have to say? Will you go with me, or will you be a coward and let all of us die here? You’ve carried out so many successful missions, and you would still sit idly by, waiting for the infected to take us out as soon as we had nothing left? Are you that weak and scared? You can help sway all of these people here! Even my own daughter wouldn’t go! Well? What do you have to say? Speak up!”
I froze. I met his angry gaze from the floor below. I could feel the tension in the room; it was a heavy weight that’d been placed on my shoulders by those near me. His eyes were flared up in anger, demanding that I be the one to turn the tables of cowardice.
I looked into myself, trying to ask myself what I truly wanted to do. I was so fearful of going to a place that could end up like Tuckerton again. I didn’t want to think about any more deaths, let alone my own. It was a close call back in Tuckerton; I definitely couldn’t afford another.
I thought of my little girl; I had to keep my promise to her at all costs, no matter what. I had to keep another heart from breaking; I already had three to deal with in my dreams. I kept searching, deep into my own fears, trying to muster up the courage to go.
I logically tried to weigh both options. If we went, we’d likely die, leaving everyone to fend for themselves at the hands of the infected. If it did go well, we’d barely be able to survive for another few days, putting us in the same position we were in at that moment. If we didn’t go, then we’d run out of supplies, die out, and look for more desperate measures of survival. Either way, we were completely screwed! I deliberated on both options as anxiety filled my body, making me so tense my muscles started to ache.
How could such a choice be put on me? Why did I have to be the one to hold everyone’s lives in their hands? As I continued to think, pitying myself, I saw something move upstairs.
In the dim light of the house, I saw my little girl coming out from the hallway. She was holding her ragged teddy bear tightly in her arms. She looked so beautiful in the dim light of the room. I took a long look at her, realizing how much she’d grown.
She was tall now; at least tall enough to reach my neck by only being on her toes. Her h
air was getting so long; it was in a long braid that reached down to the small of her back, signifying how much time had passed over the years.
She was pencil thin, resembling a thin spruce tree that wavered under the wind of a coming storm. Her clothes barely fit her, but she still looked beautiful in them. It was a wonder that she was able to find another purple jacket that actually fit her. It resembled the first, puffiness and all. Her jeans reached just above her ankles, and her worn shoes revealed her small, delicate toes that were supposed to be hidden beneath the lacing. Her ragged teddy bear had deteriorated heavily, requiring various emergency stitchings and stuffings for it to reach its next day of life.
I felt warm in her presence; as if a small light had been placed in my hands whose rays of calm radiated through my body, down to my core. I lost myself in this momentary joy, forgetting the immense weight that was laid upon my shoulders. I reveled in it for another minute, slowly letting myself slip back into reality.
Then it hit me full force; the room took shape once again before my eyes, and the unbearable weight felt even heavier upon my shoulders. I took another quick glance at my little girl, and all logic was lost. I didn’t want to die some place far away from her, from the red haired woman, from everyone that was there in our family; I just wanted to die with the ones I loved.
Maybe I was a coward; maybe I was weak. At least I was weak enough to trust in those around me and wish to end my days in their company. My heart caved in at that moment, and I gave my answer.
“N-n-no” I said weakly, stuttering as the word formed itself on my lips and let itself loose into the room. I found myself shocked as I said it, but it let the weight slip right off of my shoulders, falling limp on the ground behind me.
“What did he say?” a few of them murmured, wanting to know my final decision. The word gained force, coming out once again. “No” I said louder, allowing it to sink into the crowd. The red haired woman’s father called out angrily, “Well, what is your answer? Speak up!”
I replied with strength, yelling it out. It took a second for him to register after it reached his ears. He said nothing; he simply walked towards the staircase and headed down. I focused my eyes on my little girl as fear crept over me. I didn’t want to see him as he came in my direction. The crowd between us remained silent, acting as a useless blockade to keep him from reaching me.
All at once I could feel him; a chill crept up my spine as his hot breath hit me right in the face. I took my eyes off of my little girl and met his gaze. His eyes were flared up in anger so intense it looked as if volcanoes were erupting in his head.
“Say it again” he said, making his body even larger in front of me. “No” I said weakly, unsure of what to say.
I continued, “If we’re gonna die either way, I at least want to die here with my family and not in some unknown place because of a useless mission. That’s my decision, as selfish as it sounds to you. You may think I’m a coward, but at least I know what I want, and what everyone else really wants too.”
He shoved me; I landed hard on the wooden surface of the floor and slid away, creating a good distance between us. The crowd around us protested him, agreeing that I was right.
But they stepped away from us, forming a ring that trapped us in the middle of the room. I knew what was gonna happen next; we were gonna fight it out to determine the next course of action. Everyone reaffirmed that they agreed with me, but I saw that they still feared the red haired woman’s father.
I stood slowly and tensed up, expecting him to charge me. Instead, he walked slowly up to me, grabbing the collar of my shirt. He raised his right fist high, preparing for a blow to my face. He never got to finish the job.
There was a loud bang on the door. Then it turned into a banging that shook the entire room. Everyone stopped and focused intently on the door. The banging gained force, filling the entire house with its noise. The red haired woman’s father changed his expression from one of anger to one of worry.
“What could that be?” he murmured to himself as he released me and moved away. He walked towards the door, seeing the worried looks on peoples’ faces. “Don’t worry. We’ll see what it is. It’s probably nothing.” He said as he made his way through the crowd and headed towards the door. I saw that he was shaking slightly. A pit formed in my stomach; something wasn’t right.
The crowd of people came behind me, leaving me at the front of it. The red haired woman came beside me, handing me my machete and a gun. I looked into her anxious eyes as I received the weapons. “I’m scared” she said, “Something’s gonna happen.”
I didn’t respond as the pit grew heavier in my stomach. I took a quick glance at the crowd, seeing that most of them had armed themselves. I turned my attention, alongside everyone else, to the red haired woman’s father.
He shook heavily, placing his hand on the pounding door. I saw that he had a metal pipe in his right hand; he could sense it too. We all drew breath as he grabbed the handle and slowly opened the door.
It truly was a flood; as soon as he opened the door, it seemed to fly off of its hinges. An outpour of infected, at least twenty, came rushing in, crushing the man under the weight of the door. They flew right at the crowd, but they were met with a shower of bullets. Most of them were knocked to the floor, writhing uncontrollably as they let out dying shrieks.
A few came leaping into the crowd, attacking us. I managed to slit one open from its chin down to its legs as it tried to leap above me. Its thick, cudgeled blood showered the floor as the body made its way to the ground behind me.
I got a quick look at the door as more infected came rushing in. I could see past them, out onto the main ground. The grounds were covered with infected, resembling frenzied ants on an ant hill. They were running to and fro, and many were headed in our direction.
The second rush came in and was met with a smaller shower of bullets. A third group of infected came pouring in, shrieking as they entered the room. A few of them were knocked to the side by the red haired woman’s father, who’d gotten out from underneath the door and was fighting as well.
The next group came flying right into us, knocking the people near me to the floor as they tried to fight the infected off. As I ducked beneath that wave of attackers, I pulled out my pistol and took two or three of them out. One large infected came and tackled me to the floor, knocking my pistol out of my hand. In one fluid motion, I pulled out my machete and stuck it into the center of its head. The body fell to my side as I pulled my blade out and got up. I was greeted with three more infected charging in my direction. I clenched my fist tightly around the handle of my weapon and charged at them.
I met them head on, slashing one across the stomach, slicing another across the neck, and tackling the third one to the floor. I hit it in the center of its chest, and I heard a muffled crunch as I knocked it down. I rose to my feet and stomped my foot directly into its face. It let out a muffled squeal under the weight of my body.
The second of the trio came up next to me, trying to attack from my right. I fought it off with my machete, slicing large gashes across its frail arms. I continued to stomp hard on the face of the infected on the floor until it went limp. My shoe began to feel wet and slimy as I continued to stomp, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop until I felt it was dead enough.
The final infected came from my left side, grabbing my arm. I turned in its direction and kicked it between the legs with force. It let out a painful shriek as it staggered back a few steps.
I focused on the infected to my right; I found an opportunity to strike, slashing my blade across its neck. Blood sprayed from its throat and coated my arm. I quickly spun around, but not fast enough. The final infected shoved me, lifting me off of my feet. I was suspended in the air for a moment and landed hard against a nearby wall. It charged me as I tried to gather myself. Once I could see the whites of its eyes, I stuck my blade out in front of my face; the infected ran right into it. Its dive into my m
achete left its face so close to mine I could’ve kissed it.
I saw the surprise on its hideous face; it was covered in bloody and cracked skin. Thick green pus was flowing from its nostrils. It had almost no hair, save a few strands covering its hateful face. Its mouth revealed black gums and vibrant yellow teeth. Bloody saliva filled its mouth, running down the blade and landing on my chest. The blade had pierced through its head, exiting out of the backside. It wouldn’t surrender; it continued to try biting me, pushing itself deeper into the blade and trying to close its dying mouth. It was a few centimeters from my face as it coughed. It spat saliva filled blood all over my face. After another moment, it died. I turned over, throwing the body aside. I pulled my blade out and wiped my face.
I took a quick look around the room; it was filled with more infected trying to fight their way to us. I also saw a few of my comrades in the center of the room being eaten away by multiple infected.
Tearing sounds filled the air. The infected were biting down hard, ripping the flesh from my friends’ bodies. Blood and tissue were flying everywhere, coating the floor and the infected horde. I turned away as I saw them pulling out and biting down on the intestines of a woman I’d once known.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around swiftly; it was the red haired woman’s father. He grabbed my arm while saying, “Let’s go! We have to get upstairs where we can get them in tighter spaces!”
My mind immediately flashed to my little girl. Where was she? She could be hurt! I asked hurriedly, “Where’s my little girl? She needs to be safe!” He replied, “Don’t worry! My daughter has her! They’re hiding in the attic with a few others! The infected can’t reach them there! Hurry, let’s go!”
I followed him up the stairs as some infected followed close behind. When we reached the top, the red haired woman’s father threw me on the ground and dove on top of me. I covered my head as bullets flew over us, nailing the large group of infected behind us. Their shrieks filled the air as their bodies tumbled back down the stairs. The red haired woman’s father pulled me to my feet, and stood by my side.
I prepared my machete as I saw another group of infected barge through the door and come to the base of the stairs. I took a deep breath and called some men to me. The six of us charged down the stairs at the oncoming infected, knocking them back as we sped down.
I leaped into the air at the oncoming group, slicing one across the face and kicking another one hard with both of my feet. I tumbled down the stairs, taking six or seven of them with me. I hit the ground and rolled to my feet.
I took a second to survey the chaos; there were less infected in the house; about thirty remained. They were spread across it in groups of five or six as they ransacked the house. It seemed like they were losing interest in attacking us because we were hitting them with significant losses.
I stuck my blade through the skull of an infected as the other men joined me at the bottom of the stairs. The men stood by my side and finished killing the infected at our feet. I told them to stop the groups of infected around the house as I spotted my pistol on the ground behind a group of infected. I figured I could get to it because the infected were too busy ripping into one of the carcasses of my friends.
I made my way to the pistol; I watched the blood spreading across the floor, soaking into the wooden floorboards. The bodies of countless infected lay strewn across the ground, creating a maze of bodies on the floor. I stepped over the bodies, quietly making my way to the gun.
I knelt as I came into an arm’s length of the pistol and reached for it. As I grabbed it, I felt a hard pull on my ankle that made me slip on the bloody floor. I turned as a bloody infected jumped onto my chest, its saliva flying onto my face. I pulled the pistol up to its forehead and let two shots fill the air. Its head exploded and the body fell on the floor next to me.
I turned onto my knees and looked at the group of infected before me. Four of them had turned around, facing me with hungry eyes. I pulled my pistol in front of me and let the last two shots of my clip hit two of the infected in their chests. The other two leaped into the air at me, their teeth bared. I pulled my arms up to my face when I realized I’d let go of my machete to grab the gun.
The whole scene seemed to go in slow-motion: as I watched the two infected leaping at me, I saw the red haired woman’s father running in from the far left field of my vision. He dove into the air, leaping in front of me.
One of the infected took a bite out of his arm as the other dove into his chest. They hit the ground in a tangled mess nearby. I watched as the father kicked and hit the infected with his metal pipe while they combated on the bloody floor.
I rose to my feet, grabbed my fallen machete, and headed over to their fight. I slashed one of infected across the back, causing it to rear up. That allowed the father to put his metal pipe right through its head.
Then he kicked the other one away from us, knocking it hard against a wall. I ran over to it and slit its throat. It attempted to shriek, but choked on the blood rising into its throat, which suppressed its cry. I saw the life leave its body as it gasped for air and limply fell to the floor.
I ran back over to the red haired woman’s father; he was sitting against the doorway that led into the living room, which was filled with another slew of bodies. I saw that the infected had cleared out, and the remaining men had sealed the doors to the house. I heard muffled shrieks fading from earshot as the red haired woman’s father pulled me in close.
I could see that the infection was beginning to course its way through his veins. The first thing I noticed was the gaping wound on his left forearm. The wound was bleeding profusely down his arm and leaking onto the floor. The veins surrounding his arm and neck were turning black as the poison was spreading rapidly through his body.
I looked into the blue-green eyes in his pale face. He motioned for me to lean in closer with his right hand. He was coughing up blood as he whispered quietly, “I’m sorry…I see what you were saying…about…not leaving. Please keep my…daughter…and everyone else…safe. It’s up to…you…now. This isn’t….your fault; it would’ve…happened anyway. You need to survive…and keep moving. You can’t stay here.......anymore. It’s not safe. I………”
He never got to finish telling me his last words. Heavy tears flowed down my face as I pulled away from his cold body. He had a calm expression on his face; it was a smirk that was slowly turning to a smile. That confused me at the time, especially based on the gravity of the situation. Maybe he knew he was gonna see his wife.
I looked around at the men; they were watching me wipe the tears from my eyes. I turned to them and said, “Let’s start clearing out the bodies. We have to prepare in case the infected try to attack us again.”
They slowly turned their attention from me and began taking the bodies outside. I told them to leave his body where it was, at least until the red haired woman could see it for herself.
I helped clear some of the bodies, and I watched in wonder as a large pile formed outside of the house. While outside, I saw that the infected had somehow opened the steel doors isolating the base from the outside world. While studying the doors, I noticed that the surrounding wall had blood splashed across it at all angles. I looked at the dried blood intently; it was the struggle our outside guards put up as they tried to dam the flood of infected.
I walked back into the house and up the main staircase. I found the entrance to the attic and pulled the ladder down. I ascended it and looked into the dark room. I was greeted with a pistol pressed against my forehead. I quickly stated, “It’s all right. The fighting’s over. You guys can come out now.”
The pistol was pulled away and I descended the ladder. Everyone that’d been hiding up there, about twelve people, came down with the red haired woman leading the way.
My little girl came up to me, but shrunk back when she came near; she had tears in her eyes and looked afraid. I reached out to hold her, but she backed away int
o the red haired woman. “You’re covered in blood,” the red haired woman said.
I looked down at my body, which was covered in fresh blood all over. I looked back up at her and asked her to escort my little girl to our room to wait for me to get cleaned up. As the two of them stepped away, I grabbed the red haired woman’s arm to hold her back for a second. She turned and faced me, wondering what I wanted. I gave her an extremely worried look as I shook my head. She understood immediately and said, “You wait here; I need to see him.”
I nodded and stayed glued to my spot. She took my little girl to the room and returned momentarily. She came up to me, grabbed my hand in both of hers, and said, “Show me.” Tears were welling up in her deep blue eyes, which made me feel guilty for some reason. Then they began to overflow, and rivers found their way down her cheeks. I held her hands tightly and led her downstairs to her father’s body.
As soon as the body came into view, she let out a horrified scream. She tore herself from me and ran to the stiff body. She cried in the midst of grieving shrieks as she cradled the body of her dead father. I watched on painfully as she did so until her voice was hoarse and she could no longer cry.
After the red haired woman finished mourning, I told some men to take the body outside with the others. After they pried the body from her arms, I helped the red haired woman to her room. When we entered the room, she left my side, sat limply on her bed, and stared off into the night sky outside. I watched her staring off in the distance and waited for a response. After a few minutes of waiting, she finally said, “Please, just go. Goodnight.”
I left her room silently, gently closing the door behind me. I walked down the hall to the washroom and ran the water. The weak stream of water was enough for me to wash off the dried blood that was caked all over my face and arms. I watched solemnly as the blood filled the rusty sink basin and flowed into the drain.
How many innocent lives were in that blood? How many souls were filling the sink in front of me, going down the drain to be forgotten? How could they have known or wanted to become the evil creatures wandering the forest? Why had the innocent been taken away alongside the guilty as no justice reigned at all?
I looked up into the broken mirror in front of me as I thought on those questions. I saw my shattered reflection in the broken mirror. It revealed various images of who I was. Which one was the real me? I began to wonder if any of them were really me; maybe the real me was haunting my nightmares, showing me who I really had become.
They all looked so weary, as if they’d cave in on themselves at any second. My eyes were red from crying and my face had aged beyond belief. I saw the cuts I had on me that were still bleeding, mixing with the blood that’d caked itself onto my skin. I didn’t want to look at myself any longer; I finished washing and left the room, making my way to my bedroom where my little girl was waiting for me.
I stopped at the door; I took a second to look at the large flower spanning the length of it. I’d never really taken a chance to look at it, but my grief forced my eyes to take it in for the first time. It was a gigantic blue rose with yellow lining the tips of the petals. It was in the midst of blooming, and a large sun was beginning to protrude out of its center. The stem of the flower curved tightly, grounding itself to the base of the door. Large thorns aligned themselves along the stem, protecting it from any harm. A few small leaves were budding out of the stem, casting some shadows upon the base of the flower. They were turned upward, reaching towards the sun bursting from the flower’s center. I spent a few extra moments looking at the flower, admiring how much it centered me amidst the chaos in my heart. After taking in as much as I could, I opened the door and stepped inside the room.
My little girl was sound asleep, clutching her ragged teddy bear for dear life on top of the covers. I watched her sleep for a few minutes, seeing the worry on her face. She began to mumble and toss in her sleep, but I refused to wake her. I gently placed my hand on her shoulder, which seemed to calm her. I hoped she’d have better dreams knowing I’d be there to protect her.
I stepped back and saw my chair at the base of the window nearby. I walked over to it and faced it out towards the night sky. The chair creaked as I fell into it. I looked back to make sure I didn’t wake my little girl. She didn’t stir from my presence in the room. I turned back to the window and stared out into the star-streaked sky, wondering how light and beauty could still be present amidst all the ugliness going on.
I saw a large cloud cover rolling in over the mountains in the far right side of my view; it hadn’t rained for a long time in our area. That gave me some comfort, but I knew it could only be a foreshadowing of worse things to come. I watched the storm clouds move in closer as the deep weight of sleep finally caught up to me.
Tape #12