DUSK 2
The sun rose, revealing another perfect day. The sky was a light shade of blue, and there was not a cloud in the sky. Light shined down, revealing a beautiful green meadow. Birds chirped, and flew in the sky. Bees flew through the tall grass, in search of flowers. Unlike the oppressive heat that smothered the air the day before, the air was mild and almost cool. A gentle breeze flowed through the meadow, and the grass waved in the wind.
About a hundred yards away, the meadow ended in dense woods, where three deer grazed as if nobody was watching them.
Helen York sat on the porch of the farmhouse, aiming her rifle. At that moment, she could have easily taken one of the deer for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but Helen did not want to attract any attention. The deer were too close to the trees, and there was no telling what might be lurking under the canopy.
Besides, it was nearly time to wake the others. Last night, Jack, Sam, and Helen had decided not to eat breakfast, but to head straight home.
The day before had burned away sooner than they had anticipated and the three survivors had been taxed by the events of the day before, so they decided that it would be wiser to find a place to camp for the night.
Luckily, they found the farmhouse. The old building was falling apart at the seems. The first story windows were all shattered, and there was evidence of violence in the house as well as outside. There were several broken boards lying on the floor. There was an opened door, which led to a cellar, which had powdery brown marks on the wall, but no hint of food or supplies. Either the cellar had suffered some water damage, or the brown spots were ancient blood stains.
The second story was relatively untouched by the struggle which probably happened twenty-two years ago, but was ravaged by time. The roof was leaking and the attic had collapsed through a bedroom, all the way down to the first floor. Aside from the bedroom, there were no holes in the floor, which was sturdy enough to walk on.
About sixty yards away from the farmhouse, there was a gas pump which was completely dry. At one time, the gas pump had merely been used to fill the tractor or any other motorized equipment the residents needed to get work done. Now the pump seemed more like a fountain of life than a source of fuel for mundane tasks, even though they were in no dire need of fuel. It had been the first thing the survivors hit when they stopped the night before. Apparently, either the people who last resided in this house or looters had taken every drop of fuel before they left.
It was odd, seeing the aftermath of a battle which could have taken place the night the world first went to hell while the key to a better future was locked safely in the trunk of Helen’s Mustang. The battle wasn’t over yet. It might be years before they could replicate the cure for the plague which was bringing the dead back to life, but a major battle had been won.
The last time people settled here, they were probably terrified. As the night progressed, the survivors’ hope of staying alive probably diminished. Even if they made it out safely, the weren’t safe. They would have to find other people, they would have to fortify a structure, and they would have to worry about food and security. And if the survivors made it out of the farmhouse, they might not have survived the road.
Helen felt pure relief. The farmhouse seemed like a sanctuary from the elements, was secluded, and far enough from society that Helen could feel safe for the time being. Unlike twenty-two years ago, the survivors were all seasoned warriors who knew how to fight the ghouls. They had a working car, and a place to go. If there was any trouble, Helen could quickly wake the others and they would be able to leave in a matter of seconds.
More important that shelter from the undead was the escape from the lunatics who had terrorized Helen for most of her life. They were in chaos and they had no idea where the escapees were headed. Even if they managed to mobilize a search party, they would not know where to look. Helen, Jack, and Sam were long gone.
Helen took one last glance into the meadow, then closed her eyes and turned her face to the sky, letting the rays of the sun soak into her face. She smiled and took in a large breath of fresh air from the serine morning.
She felt one last breeze drift past her, carrying her long black hair with it. The morning breeze felt so good.
Helen hadn’t felt this good since she was seven, and she didn’t want this morning to end, but it was time to wake the others. They still had a long day ahead.
After taking one last breath, Helen turned around and walked inside. Save for a couch, all of the furniture on the first floor had been torn to shreds, and was either lying on the floor in pieces or scattered in the yard.
Sam was lying on the couch, where he had been all night. The man had been through hell, but it took a lot of arguing to get him to sleep on the couch instead of the floor. Jack had taken the first shift, and they let Sam sleep through the night.
Now, Jack was stretched out on the floor, where the shards of glass and splinters of wood had been swept away the night before. Helen had gone inside to check on the boy several times throughout the night, and he had not suffered a single nightmare, which had haunted his sleep for years. It wasn’t to Helen’s surprise. It seemed the battle had effected Jack, and some of it was for the better. Now he seemed to have some peace.
Helen put her right hand on Jack’s shoulder and shook him, gently.
“Jack,” she said, “Jack, it’s time to get up.”
“What? Huh?” Jack said, then rubbed his eyes. “Oh.”
Jack sat up and stretched and grunted.
“You sleep well?” she asked.
“Very well,” Jack said and smiled at her.
“Good.”
Jack gazed directly into Helen’s eyes for a second, then looked away at his feet.
Helen smiled at him.
“How’d your watch go last night?” Jack asked.
“Boring. Not even a little hint of action.”
“That’s the best kind,” Jack said.
“Indeed,” Helen said, and smiled again.
“You know something, Helen? I had a hard time getting to sleep last night because this house gives me the creeps.”
Helen moved back towards the wall, and sat next to Jack.
“Really?” she asked.
“Yeah, it reminds me of the house in this training movie they show. Night of the Living Dead. It’s about what happened in the beginning. It captures it in exact detail. I mean the film is almost one hundred percent accurate. It’s creepy as hell.”
Helen could understand how watching something like that would be disturbing for a novice, but Jack had been through a lot worse than a training film. He had faced down the real thing.
“If it’s a training film, it had better be dead on,” she said.
“That’s just the thing,” Jack said, “The movie was in theaters about ten years before the dead started to walk, and the people who made it caught almost every damn detail. The movie was a damn prophecy.”
“Oh,” Helen said. “You think someone actually saw the future?”
Jack’s face was white, and his hands were shaking, so Helen moved her hand over to his. Jack flinched, like he didn’t know how to react, then took Helen’s hand and smiled at her.
“It could have been a coincidence,” she said.
“I guess we’ll never know.”
Until that very moment, Helen did not realize that her face was only inches away from Jack’s. He was still uneasy, but she wasn’t sure if he was still spooked by the similarity between the farmhouse and the prophetic training film. She couldn’t remember leaning in, but she was tempted to kiss him.
Instead, Helen leaned back, and stood up.
“I think it’s time to wake Sam,” she said.
She didn’t want to rock the boat just yet. What if he didn’t want her? Right now, Jack and Sam were the only friends Helen had, and she didn’t want to alienate either one.
Before Jack got to his feet, Helen turned around and made her way to Sam. She put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and shook him just like she had Jack. Sam reflexively reached for his pistol and aimed where Helen was standing. His finger twitched.
So they could leave quickly, the soldiers slept with their cloths on, but so they wouldn’t shoot someone trying to wake them up, their pistols were on the floor just out of their reach. Sam had reached for his holster on his belt. Consequently, he grabbed nothing but air, and the gun he fired at Helen was imaginary and the holster was not there because Sam was still wearing the white uniform the cultists gave him.
“I guess leaving the guns on the floor was a good idea,” Sam said.
Helen laughed, but Sam’s expression was one of torment. Helen had not been under Sam’s command when his unit left home, but now she was his responsibility. Sam blamed himself for the deaths of the six soldiers who wouldn’t make it home, Helen could see it in his eyes, but he now hated himself more for trying to draw on one of his own.
Helen wondered how Sam would take to loss of his troops when he returned to the base, only to dismiss the thought. Sam was obviously an experienced leader, and had probably lost soldiers on many occasions. He’s dealt with it in the past, and he would get through it this time.
“Come on,” she said, “time to roll out.”
“Yes ma’am,” Sam said and saluted.
He swung his legs off of the couch, stretched, and stood up. Sam bent down to pick up his pistol, then tucked the weapon in his belt line.
“Let me see your hands again,” Helen said.
Sam held out his hands so she could see them, and his fingers were still caked in blood under the nails, where he had been stabbed by the needles.
“As soon as we get home, you should have that looked at. It would be a shame if you got out of this mess just to die of infection when you got home,” she said.
“Who made you the commanding officer anyway?” Sam asked in jest.
“I’m just looking out for my two best friends.”
Sam laughed.
From behind, a hand gently relaxed on her shoulder, and gave a gentle squeeze. It was Jack. Helen slowly moved her hand over his.
She turned her head to gaze into Jack’s eyes and he looked more afraid now than at any moment since she had met him. He looked like he was not sure if his gesture had been the right move and he seemed to have no clue what to do next.
Helen smiled, and turned her eyes back to Sam.
“Let’s move out,” Sam said, “I think I should drive the rest of the way.”
“How much further?” Helen asked.
“Not too far. We’ll be home in about two or three hours depending on what we run into,” Sam answered.
Sam walked past the two younger soldiers, and walked out the front door.
Helen looked at Jack for a second, then followed, with Jack in tow.
The Mustang was parked behind the farmhouse, where it could not bee seen form the road by humans or the undead. The car was parked in the grass, but the ground under it was dry and hard, so there was no danger of the car being stuck.
A weapons check had been performed the night before, so they did not need to waist time on one now. There were two spare M-16 assault rifles, and Sam had one slung over his shoulder. The trio had over three hundred rounds of ammunition between them, and ten hand grenades.
Such an armament would be more than sufficient in eliminating light resistance on the way home.
After trying the gas pump last night, Helen poured what was left of her fuel reserves into the gas tank, filling it to the three quarters mark. That would be enough to take them home.
“Helen,” Sam said, “Once we get about two miles from the base, the undead shouldn’t be a problem. All of them will be at the walls trying to get in. Once we’re close enough, the guards will cover us.”
That presented a problem.
“Sam, if we don’t have a radio, how do we get inside?” she asked.
“They’ll have their eyes opened. When they see us coming, they’ll open up. They’re expecting us.” Sam said.
“Good.”
“I think the first thing I’m doing is lying down in my bed,” Jack said.
“Amen to that,” Sam answered.
Helen wondered where she would stay when she reached her new home. Right now, she was with friends. The three of them had been through hell together and come out in relatively good shape, though Sam and Jack both looked like they had been through a meat grinder.
Jack’s eye was swollen where he had been punched and kicked several times. Last night, when Helen inspected Jack’s wounds, she found no broken bones, but there were bruises all over his chest and stomach. Jack’s lip had split, and there was still blood all over his uniform from yesterday’s rumble.
Sam looked no better, though he had been cleaned up and his bodily stench was not nearly as bad as Jacks and his dark skin his some of the bruises. His eyes were both swollen, and his lip was also split. There was a gash on his cheek, that would form a scar. Sam said a bullet had grazed his face.
Helen told Sam he was lucky to be alive, but he seemed to wish he had died. She was already able to know what either of her companions were thinking by body language alone.
When they returned home, things would be different. Jack and Sam would be among friends, while Helen would be an outcast among strangers.
“Jack, could you check the food supplies real quick?” Sam asked.
He grabbed Helen by the shoulder, and led her away from the Mustang.
“Helen,” Sam said softly, “I don’t think you should live alone when we get home. There’s plenty of room for you, but I think you should get to know people.”
“Okay.”
“I have a couple of friends, Rob and Cathy. They’re married. Anyway, I think they’d love to have a visitor. And between the two of them, they have their hands on everything that goes on in the base.”
“Really?”
“If you stay with them you’ll never be bored.”
Helen laughed. It was almost as if Sam had been able to read Helen, like she had been reading him. If the rest of the people in the colony were like Jack, Sam, and the friends Sam mentioned, Helen would like it there.
She supposed that after a while, she would cease to be an outcast and a stranger, and become one of the community.
“Just think about it on the way home okay,” Sam said.
He walked back to the Mustang.
“Hey, Jack how’s the food looking?” Sam shouted.
“Good, there must be at least twenty cans,” Jack shouted back, though by the time he responded, both Sam and Helen were two feet away from him.
Jack placed the canned food back in the seat behind the driver’s seat, where it had been the entire trip, and stood up.
Sam climbed into the driver’s seat, and Helen rode shotgun, leaving Jack alone in the back seat. She wished they would have moved everything in the back of the Mustang to the front seat, so Helen could sit with Jack, but she supposed there would be plenty of time to be spent with him once they were safely home.
Sam slid his seat back and adjusted the mirrors. When everything was to his liking, Sam keyed the ignition and shifted into low gear.
The Mustang’s engine rumbled, like it was ready to take on the hoards of undead they would encounter down the road. Then the car slowly rolled through the grass, almost like a lion stalking a heard of antelope.
As the car rolled out in front of the house, the two feet tall grass proved to be no obstacle for the mighty Mustang.
When the tires hit pavement, Sam looked to Helen and said: “Here on out, we don’t stop for anything until we get home.”
“Good,” Helen said.
The Mustang rapidly picked up speed, but tapered off at fifty miles an hour. They all wanted to be home, but they would never get there if they were smeared on the road. If they survived a wreck, they would be trapped out here likely to be killed within hours, and the cure would be useless to the colonists who were waiting back home for their heroes to return.
Gazing out of the window, Jack remained silent. Perhaps he was keeping his eye opened for trouble. Perhaps he was absorbed in some kind of deep thought. Helen would have liked nothing more than to pick his brain.
Outside, there was nothing but empty road, fields, and trees. There was the occasional farmhouse, but there were no ghouls in sight.
If the plague had caused trees to become mobile, violent creatures bent on destroying humans, the trio would be in danger, but fate had been on their side. They were surrounded by trees, but only the recently dead bodies of humans broke the bonds of The Reaper’s icy grip to terrorize the living.
And Helen knew how to fight them.
Helen gazed out of her window, and took in her surroundings. At least for a while after this, she would be stuck in the same place; stuck with the same surroundings with no escape. It might be a long time before Helen could see woods and fields like these. Even if she joined the guard and went out to get food, she would only be moving a few miles away from the colony. In a few months, the colony would not move. It was stationary.
The change in lifestyle would be drastic, and Helen wondered how she would deal with it, but it would be an improvement on her life before to say the least. On some level a place to call home was what she really wanted. Even when she lived among the cultists, Helen could not call any place home because in no more than a year, they would always pick up and move somewhere else. They had destroyed the last place Helen had called home.
Now the cultists’ world was shattered and their messiah had been killed. They were in disarray, and Helen left them for a better home where she would not be forced to kill people who posed no threat to her or anyone else.
With any luck the cultists would all kill each other. Helen only felt bad for the children in the compound, who had been forced to live in the depravity their entire lives with no hope of escape. They already had the joy of childhood stolen, which was a pain Helen knew intimately, and now they would be caught in the middle of anarchic chaos. Many of them would surely starve to death.
By assassinating the messiah, instead of leveling his building when they took down the armories, Helen had saved not only the cure, but the lives of the children on the floor above. Now they were alive only to face another hell.
If someone else had taken down the cult only a few years ago, Helen would have shared the fate as the children.
An hour must have passed while Helen was thinking about her old home, the prison which had entrapped her and slain her inner child.
The trees grew less and less dense, and there were more and more shops, gas stations, and bars. The road was wider, but still only one lane for each direction of traffic. The paint had long ago faded from the asphalt, which was bumpy from years of corrosion and potholes.
The undead were no longer invisible. They were not out in massive numbers, but for every block ten to twenty zombies roamed the streets, pounding on shop doors trying to get in to do daily activities that would have kept them busy in their past lives.
Sadly, the undead would not know what to do once they were inside. The ghouls would likely knock over shelves, or grab an item that attracted their attention and shake it, like a baby would shake a rattle. The ghouls had ceased to be fully human twenty-two years ago, when they died. Now they were just shells of what they had once been.
When they were not an immediate threat, the ghouls were pathetic.
As the street side grew denser with decaying strip malls, shops, bars, and housing developments, the sidewalks and streets grew denser with ghouls.
Sam had to cut the Mustang’s speed to avoid going off the road when he steered around a group of three flesh eaters who stepped in the Mustang’s path.
They kept moving and the surrounding area became more packed with urban decay, though it was not nearly as urban as where the cultists had settled. The tallest building Helen could see was four stories tall.
Outside, there were now fifty to seventy ghouls roaming every block. None of them noticed the buffet rolling through their home.
“Not too much longer,” Sam said.
Helen kept gazing out of her window.
The street widened to two lanes, but there were less buildings to the side of the road.
Helen spotted over one hundred zombies wandering in a field.
A few minutes later, the Mustang sped past a baseball diamond. There was a crowd of undead walking over the field, and ten or twenty were stumbling over a set of bleachers.
The Mustang’s speed dropped to about ten miles an hour, and Sam cranked the steering wheel. The car turned off of the main road and on to a smaller, one lane road.
The road cut through what used to be a sparsely residential area. About every fifty yards, there was a two story house. In each lawn, there was a mail box. Only a few of the undead were wandering near the street.
There was a white rectangular sign ahead, which read: SPEED LIMIT 35. The sign was still in tact, but was covered in graffiti.
After ten minutes, Sam turned off of the residential road and on to another highway. This one had three lanes, and there were stores, restaurants, and bars everywhere. There were still hardly any zombies roaming the streets.
For the next half an hour the scenery did not seem to change. There were plenty of buildings, but hardly any ghouls. They were likely hibernating inside.
Finally, there were no ghouls on the streets at all.
“We’re getting close now. The ones we haven’t cleared out are clawing at our gates trying to get in. The guards’ll take care of them,” Sam said.
“Good,” Helen said. “How many are there trying to claw their way inside?”
“Probably thousands. But who’s counting?” Sam said.
“There’s too many for us to shoot,” Jack said, speaking for the first time in hours.
“There!” Sam shouted. “You can see it up ahead.”
Sure enough, Helen saw something different than anything she had seen the whole trip. They were moving towards a large wall, which surrounded an area that might have covered three or four miles. There were three hundred and fifty people living in that space, which meant just over a hundred people per square mile.
This colony would be a lot less cramped than the cult had been.
As they moved closer, Helen noticed that contrary to what Sam and Jack had told here, there were no zombies clawing at the walls trying to get inside.
Sam seemed to notice too.
“What do you make of it?” Helen asked.
“Holiday?” he answered.
“What’s wrong?” Jack asked.
“Nothing yet,” Sam answered.
As they moved even closer and the colony’s walls grew in perception, there were still no signs of the undead.
“Maybe we shouldn’t make any noise until we know what to make of it,” Sam said. “Helen, look up ahead at the guard tower over there. Do you see anyone?”
“No,” Helen said.
“What’s wrong?” Jack asked again.
“It might be nothing, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” Sam said.
Jack said nothing, but moved his hand to his M-16, as if the rifle was a safety blanket.
Now Helen could see the walls. From a distance, the walls looked like they might have been solid brick. Up close, Helen could see that the masonry was not solid. There were gaps in the walls, closed by chain linked fence.
At the front of the compound, there was a large gateway. There was a guard tower to each side of the gateway. The guard tower to the right was charred, and part of the railing was broken. But that’s not what unsettled Helen the most.
The gate itself was wide opened.