...The Reaper Virus...

...Day Three... Trespasser

2012-02-02T16:08:00.000-05:00

1900 hours:

I awoke to Calise’s loud whispers. “Daddy! Daddy! It’s time for dinner. Come back upstairs!”

My eyes opened to a bouncing flashlight beam. Sleep hit me so hard, that I had no room for dreams. This was the first time since waking up at home that I’ve been able to enjoy a nightmare-free period of rest. That could be attributed to my improving health, but I think it’s thanks to the time spent with family. If it wasn’t for this improvement in mental health I wouldn’t even have a reason for my body to heal. After all, I’ve lived through the hell outside only to reach them once again.

The little girl hopped on the bed’s blanketed end. It was like a twisted version of those commercials for our mattress brand with the girl jumping and the wine glass. Regardless of the kinetic energy absorption ability my resting place possessed, I still jostled awake with pain.

“Alright, alright! I’ll be right there, Princess. Just give me a few minutes.” I’ve never been good at waking up from a nap. Irritation is always the first thing I feel after being disturbed. All her life, Calise has known me as a midnight shift… well, zombie. She’s woken me from naps, many times; and wasn’t bothered by my being short with her.

Jumping down with a silent thud, she cleared the cushioned platform. I watched the flashlight beam scurry off accompanied by an array of giggles. Now I have to complete the unpleasant task of getting out of bed. Even though I am getting better, this chore is still a difficult one.

I let out a heavy sigh then followed my dismounting routine. Soon I found myself both bipedal and hungry. A family meal is something that sounds so good I’d probably kill for it. This brought on a genuine laugh. It’s funny because I did kill for it.

Focusing on the coming event made for a much better way to occupy my attention. I was struck by the overall eeriness of the house once I entered the hallway. The other rooms were black as pitch. This kind of darkness is disheartening. The only time I’ve been exposed to something like this was years ago when I went spelunking. That’s what our sweet home has essentially become – a cave. We’ve shut it off so tightly that subterranean caverns would be proud.

All activity in the house was concentrated in the attic. Light beaming down from the void in the ceiling broke the imaginatively taunting absence of light. Before I knew it I was up the ladder and delighted by the site before me.

A circle of votive candles burned brightly like a halo. My dear family sat atop a blanket each with a cardboard box. The boxes were covered in place mats so that they could be used as impromptu tables. A single vacant setting had an inviting pillow placed behind it. Sarah saw my delighted expression and smiled. “Come join us Daddy.” She said in a soothing tone.

Calise immediately jumped up with excitement. “I set your table Daddy! Isn’t it pretty?” Sarah quickly motioned for her to quell her volume. Embarrassed, the little girl sank her head slightly down into her shoulders. All the while she never severed eye contact with me.

Breaking from the heart melting gaze of the brown eyed beauty, I looked down at the fabric covered box. It was set with a plastic plate I bought years ago for the kids. The plate was blue with a picture of the matching m&m candy character. I realized then that all the plates were from the m&m set. Maddox sat behind the yellow m&m. Sarah sat behind the green m&m; because as the kids know, Mommy always gets the green m&m. Calise bobbed up and down behind the red m&m.

Correspondingly colored plastic cups sat with every setting. Inside was a fluid that looked like apple juice. Each setting had a fork and a knife carefully aligned to complete the scene. Centered in the whole thing was another box topped with a covered serving tray.

Then I noticed that my setting was different. Placed slightly askew on my blue plate were three silk flowers. The color was so similar that I didn’t spot them with my initial survey. Tears teased my vision again.

Calise wouldn’t allow her five-year-old patience level to be tested any longer. “Well Daddy? Aren’t they pretty?” Her wavy hair bounced around her shoulders while she awaited my approval.

I looked at Sarah. She had a matching tear escaping the corner of her right eye. “Calise insisted on doing something special for your first dinner back with us. She spent most of the afternoon going through my craft box to find the flowers. Then she did a wonderful job setting up our dinner tables.” Calise got even more excited hearing that her mother recognized a days worth of effort.

“They are almost as pretty as you, Princess.” I said while wiping the salty stream of tears from my bearded cheek. “Come here and give me a big kiss.”

She had leaped over towards me before the sentence was even finished. About three feet from me she stopped, placed her hands down and behind her back, then stepped calmly up to me with her chin up and lips puckered. I bent down and gave the little angel a big kiss on the lips.

Calise flinched, pulling away while giggling. “Daddy!” She said like I’d embarrassed her. “You’re beard tickles! I think you need to shave.”

“What for? I don’t think I’ll need to go back into work any time soon. Now enough stalling! I’m so hungry I might just eat you up.” I said back in a fake scary voice.

Maddox was laughing quietly with Sarah. Calise turned into a bouncing blur of pink and was quickly seated behind her plate. As I sat, Sarah leaned over to reveal the dinner. “I hope hotdogs sound good to you.” She said while exposing a platter of a dozen beef franks.

“Sounds delicious!” I plopped painfully down on the pillow and scooted to the plate. “Are they still good?”

“No, I thought I’d wait until now to try and give you food poisoning.” She made a raspberry sound and both kids giggled. “We froze them before the power went out. As long as we’re quick when opening the chest freezer things shouldn’t thaw for a couple more days. The buns are about to go bad though; so we’ve got to eat them.”

“I can’t argue with that. How did you cook them?”

Maddox chimed in. “We boiled them outside.”

“Outside?” I said with a more serious tone.

The boy was about to explain but Sarah cut him off. “We can talk about that later. For now let’s just have a nice dinner.”

Calise had already chomped up half of one of the hotdogs. The ravenous appetite of a five year old and an eight year old is rivaled only by the undead. I smiled and took a sip if the diluted apple juice. We all ate in an uncharacteristic silence. Normally, Sarah and I have to remind the kids to talk less and eat more - but not this time. Now we just sat relishing the combination of sustenance and company.

Outside I heard the clatter of distant gunfire. No one else reacted. Either I’m the only one who heard it, or it’s become such a regular sound that they didn’t react. I tried not to think about what the gunfire meant. Somewhere there is a human being fighting for their life while necessarily desecrating the fallen life of another. Are their children watching them do it? When will mine see me fight the dead? The new world is too overwhelming to remove from my thought process. I can’t even enjoy a meal with my loved ones without succumbing to anxiety of inevitabilities.

Maddox inhaled all three hotdogs. He dabbed the ketchup off his mouth and broke the silence. “Do you know what tomorrow is Daddy?”

I thought for a second about what it might be. During this recovery period I’ve lost all track of the days. “No Monkey, what is tomorrow?”

“It’s Thanksgiving – duh!” he said.

Sarah immediately smacked him in the arm with a rolled up napkin. “Don’t talk to your father that way! He’s been through a lot to get here. It’s not his fault he didn’t know what day it was.”

The boy’s head dropped shamefully. “Sorry Daddy…”

“No it’s ok... I really didn’t know. I suppose we’ll have to make a bigger dinner for tomorrow night then won’t we?” The shame washed away from Maddox as soon as I said it.

Calise eagerly raised her hand. Her little wrist twisted around and all five fingers danced. The mini pink beauty acted like she was in school and wanted to be called upon. “Yes baby girl?”

“Can I help make it? Mommy said last year I was too little but now I’m big.” She said in a mix of hesitance and pride.

We all chuckled. Sarah quickly said, “Yes honey, you can help.” This prompted a gleaming smile from Calise.

I nodded my head in approval. “Good. Tomorrow we’ll have a nice Thanksgiving dinner. I’d like to see the zo… the monsters take that from us!”

Sarah gave me a proper scolding-wife-styled look. She and I had briefly discussed not saying the word ‘zombie’ in front of Calise. The little thing is too young to worry more than she has to. I almost slipped and said it. Calling the infected ‘monsters’ is equally fitting.

“I think tomorrow I’ll try to make it outside too. It’ll make me feel better about you guys doing it if I can see its safe with my own eyes.” Sarah began to gather a protest to my saying this. “And yes sweat heart, I’m feeling up to it.”

Everyone looked happy. It was a nice change to see. The world is anything but happy. I hope to God that there are other families out there still able to plan their Thanksgiving dinners.

2210 hours:

I decided to stay upstairs for the night. The high I’d gotten from an illusion of normalcy made me feel like I was actually up to it.

Sarah went downstairs and got more drugs. She also pulled some of the blankets from our bed to make me more comfortable. When she returned she slowly eased the ladder to the upright position. This isolated us completely. If the dead were to break down the barriers while we slept, they’d be greeted by an empty house. Everyone nestled in for the night.

The attic was chilly. It isn’t an area that was built for occupancy. All of the modifications made in my absence compensated somewhat. Collapsing the stairs also created a bubble of body-heated air in our pseudo second floor. The four of us huddled up there with a few candles raised the ambient temperature by easily twenty degrees. Regardless of the changes, breath was still slightly visible in the pre-winter air.

Maddox and Calise are both sound asleep. They look like plump, happy grubs in their thermal sleeping bags. Sarah prepped our double sized bag for the two of us. I saw her doing this and must have advertised my thoughts with my expression.

She looked at me with playful yet serious eyes. “I don't care how you smell or where you hurt. If you don’t crawl into this sleeping bag with me then I’m going to be cold. And as you well know, when I’m cold I get angry. If I get angry and cold then you’ll be better off outside with the infected.”

I reached my aching arm out and put a finger over her lip to shush the playful threats. “I was just going to ask you to go easy on the spooning. We’re going to have to leave here sooner or later. When we do, I have to be as close to normal as possible. If my ribs don’t heal right because you insisted on spooning then it could end up getting me bitten. That’s right; your vicious cuddling could actually kill me.”

“You’re an ass. Now hurry up, I’m getting cold.” She said with a devilish smile. It didn’t take any more motivation for me to be nestled up to my beloved. A few weeks ago I was huddled between railroad ties on a bridge that topped a river seething with the dead. Those palpably nightmarish memories permeate my subconscious. Now they faded from feeling peace for the first time since before the world ended. It’s easy to overlook the scars of hell when heaven is cradling you. Finally, everyone and everything I hold dear is within a few feet of me.

2340 hours:

Something stirred me from a hellacious dream. Every time I close my eyes I’m punished for what has already happened. I’m beginning to think that dreams exist for two purposes: to give you hope for what might be, and to punish you for what has already been. I’ve spent hours in bed trying to focus on happy times of the past so that any final waking thoughts might leech into dreams. However, anxiety over what might come for all of us makes the effort a futile one.

Hope is one of the most powerful forces imaginable. As potent as it may be, it was also the biggest victim that came from the shattering of death’s finality. Beyond the millions of lives lost and lasting threat to mankind; the most tragic toll is the extinction of hope. Any living soul that has the luxury of thought cannot consider even the most insignificant thing without the infected coming into play. We may survive encounters with those ridden with the Reaper Virus but their impact is one of profound pollution. Now the living are cursed with no hope for a return to real life.

There was a constant pressure around my waist. Sarah nestled into my side and gripped me like a life preserver. A few feet away I could see Maddox and Calise both in their separate sleeping bags under a thick comforter. The reasons I must force myself to hope again are all around me. I can’t let them see how worried I actually am.

My thought process was interrupted by a sound outside. It must have been the same sound that had pulled me away from my nightmare. I tried to ease my way out of Sarah’s constriction. She mumbled something in her sleep and squeezed tighter.

The wince I let out partially woke her. “Where are you going?”

Her death grip loosened enough for me to sit up. “I heard something outside. I’m going to go to the peephole and see if I can get a look.”

“Don’t, baby.” Sarah shivered when I sat up. Puncturing her warm air cocoon brought her out of a sleepy state just enough to look irritated by my stubbornness. “There’s no way they can get to us up here. Just go back to sleep and whatever it is will leave… they always do.”

She was implying that this isn’t a random disturbance. I was angry now. A few weeks ago I would have countered a late night intruder of our yard by turning on the flood lights, calling the police, and going to the door without enough clothing while holding something menacing. Now I’m huddled in the attic of our home feeling helpless. I wouldn’t be able to rest again until I knew what was out there. “My muscles are starting to ache from not stretching them. I’m just going to loosen up and peak out. Stay bundled, sweetheart – I’ll be back in your bubble before you know it.”

I made it into the chilled air before she could muster another protest. Standing up was easier than I anticipated. I’m definitely healing because a rising this way would have been impossible a couple days ago. The kids were blissfully knocked out. I tiptoed around them and made my way to the improvised blockade.

My arms creaked out towards the removable box. An odd sound outside stopped me in my tracks. There was a thud followed by rhythmic scrapping. The pattern was baffling. Nothing I could imagine matched the clatter I was actually hearing. After the peephole section was removed I slowly peered out.

The figure caught my attention immediately. This time of night I should have just seen a baron view of my neighbor’s fence. But now a trespasser marred the normally peaceful nook. It hobbled along the fence with an outstretched arm. Every step dragged his rotting digits along the planks. The perplexing rhythm I heard was created when the scratching went from one board to another.

Darkness hid most of his details from my view. It almost seemed like he was staring up at me with those black, soulless eyes. I blinked hard, hoping that doing so would kick the view out of my imagination. When I opened them again he had gotten closer to our side of the fence. Most of his silhouette was obscured from my vantage point by a spindling oak tree that lines the fence. A wisp of late November air caught my face bringing about a shudder. Even though I couldn’t clearly see the ghoul, I could still hear the nails digging across the wood.

This is the first time I’ve observed the zombies in such a way since arriving home. When the infection initially broke out I tried to study them as much as possible. Doing so might prepare me for my flight away from the dead city. Now I’ve reached my loved ones… and so have the Reapers. Feeling like my wretched curiosity had been appeased, I went to reseal the peephole.

Then a blast echoed from somewhere up the street. It must have been from someone living firing a shotgun or a large caliber rifle. Whatever it was caught the attention of our trespasser. He ceased the scraping and let out a ravenous growl. On the opposite side of the house I heard a similar raucous from another member of the undead. Three seconds later a car alarm sounded from the area of the blast.

I quickly sealed the peephole before the lurking horrors of night could bother my sleeping family. Sarah was right; I should have just ignored what I heard. There is evil out there literally lurking at our doorstep. Hearing something from the other side of the house confirmed that the trespasser I saw wasn’t the only one on the property.

Adrenaline added a dangerous potency to my pain killer-filled bloodstream. Anger has surfaced above my worry. If I knew I could get out of the attic without waking anyone I probably would. Right then I was so infuriated by this invasion that I wanted to grab my Kukri to quench its thirst for vengeful blood. I sat down next to Sarah and our sleeping bag nest. She startled me by placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“Calm down.” She whispered softly, “At the moment we are safe and you are here. We can worry about the rest later.”

I didn’t say anything back because once again, she was right. My response came from painfully returning to a horizontal position under the warmth of our blankets. She kissed me gently and was asleep in minutes. I laid there stewing in my thoughts.

We were safe for now. As long as the dead stay on the other side of the fence we would have time to plan. The reaction I witnessed to a distant sound reinforced the need for us to remain hidden. Tomorrow I plan on going out in the yard to check the perimeter. It will be good to do something beyond remaining still in the name of healing.

My storm of thoughts eased to a drizzle. Before sleep returned to open the door for my nightmares, I thought of the blast outside. Something like that had to have come from someone that still has a beating heart. For their sake, I pray that the single pull of a trigger brought them peace instead of more pain...

...Day Three... Petrified Moments

2011-09-21T08:33:00.000-04:00

1045 hours:

“Daddy!” Two voices simultaneously shouted from above. They were quickly followed by a softer shushing sound. Little footsteps pattered up to the attic entrance.

Half a second later I could see the smiling faces of both my children. Maddox practically hopped down to my level. I had to take a quick, painful step back to avoid his descent. He immediately embraced me in a careful hug.

I rubbed the back of his hair and tried not to allude to feeling any discomfort. Calise carefully cleared the wooden steps and joined her brother’s embrace. My little angel predictably lacked the caution Maddox used. Even though this wasn’t the first hug I’d received from them since returning, it felt like something I hadn’t done in years. After all, a standing hug is always better than a prone hug.

Maddox pulled me back so Sarah would have enough room to step down. The small gesture filled me with pride for how much the little man was trying to help his mother. She softly placed her arms over me and rewarded my bipedal return with a kiss.

“Daddy,” She said through a fusion of smiling and scolding, “Why are you out of bed?”

This was exactly how I expected her to respond. Predictability in an unpredictable world is comforting. “I’m alright Mommy. Calise has told me so much about the games you guys were playing, I just had to check them out.” The little princess looked at me with a massive baby tooth grin. I winked at her and looked back at Sarah. “I’ll be alright. There isn’t time for me to lie around trying to feel a hundred percent.”

She looked down at the kids. Her expression told me that she was on to me. Having Maddox and Calise here kept me from being in trouble. This isn’t the first time I’ve used their presence as a way to prevent getting yelled at. Then her face lightened to demonstrate a humorous acceptance of the situation. “Come on baby,” Sarah said in a smoothly caring tone, “let’s go into Maddox’s room so we can tell you the new rules of the house.”

...Day Three…

November 25th, 2015 – 0225 hours:

My head throbbed from the blast. The area around me was muted in an unsettling quiet. Unsettling because everything I could see showed hints of chaos. Fire and debris were strewn about reminiscently like a brief hailstorm’s disorderly pattern.

I tried not to look at the human shapes. They weren’t human anymore. How can something so charred out of existence be considered human? Whisking fingers of hell’s reach concealed much from my sight.

My body burned in homage to this carnage. Air tainted with smoldering death painfully inflated my lungs. The tired legs carrying me spasm with desire for surrender. I almost miss hearing the rhythmic crunching sound from the gravel-laden ground. Warmth from the blood dripping down my ears immediately reminds me why I can no longer hear.

The searing wreckage of a vehicular blockade waits ahead. I must contort my stiff body to navigate through it. Inside, the desire to pass this wall is equivalent to my longing to be home. “If I make it past the crossing then I can save them.” I muttered under painful breaths.

Gravel's textured passage ceased as pavement took hold. The road was sectioned off by this never-ending line of metal I’ve been following. My eyes found distraction in the rail for a moment. It averted my attention long enough to miss the massacre of obstacles.

A steaming pulp of torso impaled the car I leaned against. An arm was still attached to the hunk of humanity. It twitched spasmodically against the steering wheel inside. Muted honks from the car’s horn punctuated the roar of my deafness. I can hardly believe that God has allowed what I am seeing to be reality.

Just beyond the crossing, a ghoulish figure awaits me. It looks like a man but I know it cannot be. Bubbling flesh covers its feral visage. Flames trail from the beast’s hair down to its melting clothing. I anticipated attack. My Kukri was gripped tightly in my aching digits.

Then it stopped. It raised a steaming hand and pointed directly at me. Charring flesh flaked off its finger exposing bone. I was frozen with fear.

Its mouth opened like words were about to be made. Smoke plumed from its jaws. The smoldering demon rushed at me suddenly. My brain screamed for my to use the Kukri in defense but nothing happened. I stood still as the hellion descended upon my soul.

My eyes shot open to darkness. The softness of my bed was damp with sweat. These dreams will never leave me. It wasn’t enough that I had to fight through such madness to reach home. Now that I’m here, I know that memories of what I saw will forever be the subject of my mind’s twisted self-loathing.

1300 hours:

Our first home has been converted into a desperate homage to paranoia. We started our family in this quaint, three bedroom ranch house. Since then we have grown and flourished here. The need to move onto something bigger has existed for a few years now. Even though the primary excuse not to leave was always finances… the real reason was that this is home.

We don’t move much past the ladder to the attic. The window to Calise’s room was blocked in the same way Maddox’s had. Our family room has two windows that face the cul-de-sac. If that didn’t make the room risky enough, our narrow front porch lining the outside of these windows certainly does.

Sarah and Maddox somehow pulled up the boards comprising the two-step porch incline. This does create a thigh-high step. However, if a Reaper stumbles up to it, there is little preventing them from toppling up to window level. It hasn’t happened yet, but I fear it is an inevitable possibility.

The kitchen has even more windows. When we were house shopping it was the bay window that sold us. Before the end when I was boarding things up, I discovered how difficult it is to firmly cover a table-size pane of glass. Desperate times can either bring about delusion or dreadful acceptance of things. With the safety of my family at stake, I refuse to concede to delusions. That being said, I know the barricading of the kitchen won’t hold much back for long.

I peered inside the doorway to our kitchen. The area was eerily bathed in light from one of the few uncovered windows. Nestled above the sink is a window that looks out to the neighbor’s driveway. Sarah covered up the bottom portion of the window for security but left the top free. There is no possible way anyone could reach up that high. Hell, even standing on a chair against the counter I would have to reach to get up there. This rare opening to the outdoors gives the room some natural light during the day. At night we either have to keep the lights away from it or cover the window with a curtain.

Tucked into a bend in the counter sat a green vase with a dozen withered roses. I bought these for Sarah about a week before I got trapped at work. It was our anniversary. The bouquet was comprised of twelve vibrant crimson and white flowers. Now, they are petrified in a moment from before the world ended. The counter is littered in dried petals that fell from their drooping origins. My heart felt heavy from the sight. It served as a tragically beautiful reminder of departed joyous times.

During her own efforts to secure the house, Sarah improved things slightly. Light is blocked and physical barriers have been erected. Still, I see the state of things and know we cannot stay here forever. A mass of undead could easily break down these windows. I’m sure my heroic wife has come to the same realization.

Concealment is our primary defense. Sarah knew this and used it as a motivator in blocking the windows. The back yard privacy fence is all the keeps the infected from breaching more vulnerable areas. Limited and subtle activity in the kitchen is possible thanks to the hidden vantage point granted by the fence.

Our neighbor’s house and the house behind us have some view inside the fence. Sarah told me she has watched both closely. So far, no signs of life, or otherwise, have shown in these houses. If either residence had a zombie inside, there would always be the chance it could see us and draw attention.

Of course, I drew ample attention with my kamikaze mission into the neighborhood. Groups of undead were drawn to the area by the blazing fire from my pilfered Taurus 1911 pistol and from Sarah’s shotgun powered rescue. Some stayed around the fence, where I was pulled to safety, for days. Many others wandered around the front yard almost like buzzards following the scraped trail of my blood.

The attention span of the undead could act as the poster child for unmedicated Attention Deficit Disorder. This became obvious with how quickly the pursuing horde lost interest and moved on. Naturally, it would be too convenient if all of them left. A small group still blocks the entrance to the cul-de-sac like rotting sentries. Our incognito status is all that prevents them from banging on the walls.

Moving around the reduced area has helped my recovery. I’m less stiff and the pain becomes more manageable by the minute. A lot of the pain management is mental. Being able to see and interact with my loved ones provides a pleasant distraction.

I was able to make it up into the attic without much of a problem. My reward was a detailed explanation of what the kids imagined up to pass the time. The complicated rules of my babies’ games were beyond me. I implemented the ‘smile and nod’ tactic while just enjoying the conversation.

They’ve managed to convert the drab storage area to something quite livable. Pretty much every box was opened and flattened to provide some extra insulation against the rafters. Three nest-like piles of softness serve as beds. The makeshift mattresses are lined in order showing that nights are spent huddling together for warmth and/or safety.

Just like any attic, ours has two small venting outlets. Both have been thoroughly obstructed. This isn’t a living area by design so these vents let a lot of heat out. Of equal concern is the threat of sounds leaking to the hungry ears of outside predators.

Upon closer inspection, I noticed that one of the bordering boxes of the pile that blocked the vent was placed differently. Gaps in the tight packing made it seem like this one had been pulled away many times. Through one of the gaps I saw the fray of fabric. Unbeknownst to me, Maddox was watching my survey closely. He saw that I noticed the fabric addition and chimed up, “That was my idea Daddy!”

“Oh?” I tried to conceal the startle his proud outburst gave me. “What exactly is it I’m looking at?”

He eagerly looked to Sarah. She smirked and gave a nod of approval. Calise was watching closely and reacted like this was a routine. Her dainty little hands covered her mouth just as they do whenever she feels the urge to talk during a movie. Maddox grabbed me by the hand. Pulling me closer he whispered, “You have to stay quiet while it’s open, Daddy.”

Frozen with fascination, I watched as the boy moved his hand, a miniature replica of my own, up to the box. He gently eased it away from the rest of the wall and set it to the side. Behind it was a thick swatch of fabric secured to the wood with thumb tacks.

I cocked my head with curious wonder. Painfully swiveling around, I turned to meet eyes with my wife. She placed one finger over her mouth to remind me to be quiet. Smiling behind the finger, Sarah nodded towards Maddox to redirect my attention. Then I felt a sudden rush of chilly air.

Maddox removed enough of the tacks to allow the fabric to flop down. He carefully folded the swatch over and tacked it in place. The boy’s motions eagerly ushered to the exposed hole that now beamed some natural light into the area. I squinted as my eyes adjusted and peered out.

Outside the confines of the attic, one of the slanted strips of wood that covered the vent had been chipped away. Looking past it I was shocked by the surprisingly good view of the fence, our neighbor’s house, and part of the front yard. Nothing in the area moved.

I’m sure the opposite vent has a similar set up. This would be the one that looks down on the gate I was pulled through. Not allowing me to look any longer, Maddox pulled me back and reclosed the peep hole. I stepped back feeling truly proud of the preparations my family made while I was away.

“What do you think Daddy? Don’t you think I had a good idea?” said my little man, eagerly seeking my unnecessary approval.

“It was a wonderful idea, Monkey.” My eyes grew moist with tears. Past as Sarah was teary also. Out tears were brought on by pride and worry. “I doubt I would have even thought of that.”

1510 hours:

Getting down from the attic was painful and arduous. The lapse of time reminded me that medicine is still quite needed. I needed to get down and retrieve some pills since my warmly comfortable attire didn’t factor in pockets.

I descended the steps at a sloth’s pace. Searing waves echoed from my joints. By the time I reached the carpeted floor I was completely winded. The physical exertion isn’t what exhausted me; it was the battle to contain my reaction to the pain. Maddox was waiting at the bottom to ensure I was alright. I didn’t want him to know how much I was really hurting.

Memories of my desperate climb up the brick train bridge surfaced during the short trip down. That experience seems like so long ago. Hanging on that rope above a churning torrent of infection nearly broke me. I was so ready then to accept the seemingly unavoidable clutches of death. If Phil hadn’t saved me when he did I probably would have let go.

A shudder overcame me while recalling the event. Maddox noticed my sudden distantness. I pray to God I never have to tell him about Phil. A son should never know that his father took another man’s life. Let alone a man whose life saving efforts enabled him to even have a father.

“Daddy?” said the boy in a timid, yet caring way. “Are you ok? Do I need to get Mommy?” He began to start back up the ladder to get help.

I reached out put my hand on his shoulder. He stopped and looked back with concerned eyes. “No…” my voice was weak but serious. “I’m fine. Can you help me into the bedroom so I can take a nap? It’s been a busy day of not being in bed for me. I think I’m ready to take it easy for a bit.”

Maddox’s smile betrayed him. He’s not a little kid anymore. Soon I’ll have to accept that my son is far more aware of the permeating evil in this world than I’d like. “Ok. Mommy said we’re all having dinner tonight so it’s a good idea to nap now.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He helped me up into bed then went into the bathroom. Seconds later he returned with a bottle of water and two bottles of prescription pain killers. One makes me drowsy and one does not. Both pills have worked well despite being past their expiration.

I took a swig of the water. The boy held out both bottles and said very seriously, “I don’t think you should take these.” He shook the bottle containing the drowsy pills. “Calise is really excited about dinner and would be sad if you aren’t there with us. While you were gone she talked about you every night during dinner.”

“She talked about me every night during dinner?”

His head bobbed up and down in an exaggerated acknowledgement. “Not just during dinner… but all the time. She asked Mommy a lot of questions about where you were and if you were ok.” Then he looked sad and continued, “I just told her you were fighting the monsters and you’d be home soon.”

A familiar tug of tears filled my eyes. “That’s was what I was doing. I’m sorry she made you talk about it so much…”

“How many did you have to fight?” He asked shyly.

I paused. Flashes of the endless dead came through my mind. I can still feel the impact run through my arm as my Kukri cut through each harbinger of evil. Then I thought… where the hell is my beloved weapon? I haven’t seen it since I woke up from my coma. Frankly, outside of nightmares, I haven’t even thought of it since then.

The eager questioning of my flesh and blood forced me to dismiss the thought. How long am I going to be able to shield my son from this? The Reapers are going to be something we deal with every day for as long as we have left alive. I simply cannot hide the irrefutable horror of this from him forever.

“I…” debate raged inside my bandaged head. “I fought more than I’d like to think about. For now that’s all you need to know, Monkey.”

He looked disappointed but accepted it. “Ok, Daddy. I’m just really glad you’re home.” This was followed by a hug that had the loving roughness usually employed by Calise. Quickly breaking from the hug, Maddox extended only the non-drowsy medicine. With a childishly devious grin he said, “So which medicine do you want?”

I wiped away a tear and laughed. “Well doctor,” he immediately giggled at the word. “I think the non-sleepy pills will do, thank you!”

Two capsules joyously washed down my gullet. Exhaustion was ready to overtake me. I kissed the boys shaggy head and said, “Go help your mom with dinner. I’m going to nap until it’s ready.”

...Day Two... Atrophy

2011-08-28T16:51:00.000-04:00

…Day Two…

November 24, 2015 – 0800 hours:

Suddenly I was back alongside the James. I could hear the churning rapids. A bellowing shriek of some passing undead debris permeated the droning water. Then I felt the strain on my arm. My right grip was getting moist but tightened out of necessity. It was attached to the blade that had become a deadly extension of my very person.

The contortion of my body radiated pain from every joint. I looked up in a panic. Black clouds blanketed a soulless sky. Under my left fist was the rusted ribbing of a rebar ladder. Looking back, I allowed my eyes to follow the curvature of my soiled Kukri.

It ended in a monstrous face. The blade was imbedded into the visage of a creature. This beast had crawled back from death in a viral mission to spread reminders of hell itself. Now its weight was pulling me and my weapon down to the virulent waters that flow beyond.

I couldn’t find the breath to scream. I couldn’t even find the breath to plead for mercy. All I could feel was the overwhelming burden that came from the cusp of failure. My frantic eyes shot back to the top of the ladder. Nothing was there to greet me. Nothing was there to save me.

The strain was unbearable. I must let go or this will be my death. Then my eyes looked back into the lifeless, drooling corpse now fused into my lifeline. But the face was different… A single eye looked down the blade and back at the source of execution. “I know that eye. I know this face.” I irrationally thought.

It all struck me at once – I was on the other end of the blade. The mutilated version of me opened its mouth. A horrid slick of black tar spewed from jaws that hung agape. Weakness overcame my twisted body. I released my grip of the ladder and fell with the disfigured doppelganger into the hellish waters.

Bitterly cool waves nipped against my exposed skin. The beast screamed a nonsensical rant even as it remained impaled upon my Kukri. It said no words but I knew it was accusing me. My undead reflection condemned me with the accusation of being a monster. It clawed at my face trying like hell to create some equalizing disfigurement.

All I knew then was the muted sounds of cyclonic waters. An overwhelming sense of hopelessness drained me of any will to fight. I drifted downstream with the monster and finally as a monster.

I sat up in a cold sweat. At this moment I was thankful that reality could be infinitely more comforting than dreams.

1020 hours:

My dreams were not kind.

Over the past day, I have gone in and out of consciousness. The time I spend awake is time I try my best to forget the things my mind showed me while I slept.

Sometimes I was alone. Other times I’d feel the painful snuggling power of Calise. She’d lay there and talk about some game she and her brother thought up to pass the time. Then she’d get quiet or even fall asleep. Whether it was the sound of her petite little voice, or the rhythmic snore she denies having, I just stayed there and enjoyed every minute.

Whenever Calise was willing to leave, Maddox would take over. He’d sit and ask me questions. His characteristically hyperactive talking would ramble on and on. Nearly all of the questions were about the infected. I’d always answer him as vaguely as possible. It didn’t matter that the kid is four years too tall, he’s too young to know what I was forced to know.

After minutes of bombarding me with questions, my proud son switched to reading aloud. His book choice was Historic Rail Lines of North America. Hearing about trains didn’t help my quest to distract from the plaguing thoughts within. Of course I never stopped him. I’d just tell him that I walked across some train tracks and they helped me get home. Hearing this elated the mini version of me. A few minutes of his excited wondering would end with more reading.

Sarah wasn’t there as much as the kids. I didn’t fault her for this at all. The kids wanted to spend time in there with me and she needed to keep and eye on other factors. I’d occasionally ask her about the state of things outside. She was always deliberately evasive and blamed the tepid response on my need to recuperate.

Then, during the times I found myself alone, I’d just sit there motionless. I fought returning back to a needed slumber. Regardless of my body screaming for the chance to repair itself, I fought it… My battle was to prevent the dreams from returning. Because in those dreams, I was forced to relive the battles I’d survived. The notion of suffering through another one of those dreams made fighting my injuries worth any risk.

My battered body had been in this bed now for days. “Atrophy be damned” I said aloud to myself.

The pain killers were still running through my bloodstream. I also genuinely believed that I was feeling better. So my mind was fully in favor of doing this… but my body had other plans.

I pushed my arms behind me in order to sit up. The act was incredibly painful. A few minutes of struggle finally pushed me up to nearly a sixty degree angle. Burning bodily angst radiated everywhere. I froze there for at least five minutes just hoping the pain would subside.

At last I was able to throw my left leg over the side of the bed. My masochistic thoughts teased me for being so decrepit. Another minute of heavy breathing allowed me to toss my other leg over. For the first time in days I was now sitting up.

My vision became blurred from the onslaught of discomfort. I closed my eyes and remained still for as long as needed. If Sarah were to come in the room right now I’d probably be scolded. Inside I wanted to be spared her scorn. The nagging didn’t bother me at all. What I wanted was to walk out and surprise the sweet family that has been tending to me.

Inch by inch, I eased myself down. Air outside the blankets was cool. It served as a reminder of the brisk November temperatures that had bombarded me atop the rail bridge. My memory foam mattress was still ripe with my residual heat. I could feel the area I had been radiate from almost a foot away.

Then the ground met my feet. During my coma Sarah had lovingly wrapped my feet in plush fleece socks. I winced as the carpet compressed the fleece. Collapse seemed imminent. My arm swung back to catch myself from falling. However, the fall never came.

I stood on my own power. The stance was a wobbly one… but I was proud of it nonetheless. Just as I had with my other movement milestones, I froze allowing myself to adapt to the new position.

Gradually I began to hobble. If the zombies saw my shuffle, they’d likely see me as one of their own. It took me a few minutes to clear a distance that normally would have been cleared in seconds. The feel of the cool doorknob in my hand put my internal teasing to rest.

My lack of strength and slow movements opened the door without a sound. I braced myself against the wooden slab and crept into the dark hallway. Normally, the house would be lit with ambient from the outside sun. Now things were as dark as they would be before dawn.

The door to Maddox’s room is directly across from our bedroom. I tested the knob and found it unlocked. Gently, I eased it open. The room was mostly dark. My eyes had already adjusted to the light level. I looked around and smiled at the familiar area.

Every wall was plastered with hints of the boy’s hobbies. Posters or cutouts of everything from trains to Lego’s covered the light green paint Sarah and I used when we bought the house almost nine years ago. We used the color because our son’s gender was to remain an anxious mystery for a few more weeks.

Both eyes drifted to the carpet as I remembered that happy day. Maddox was over five months away from entering the world. I tried to be the super husband then. Regardless of how much she was willing or capable of helping, I made her sit so much of the move out. Sarah would inspect the work I’d done on the walls. With a hand lightly rubbing her belly, she’d point to an obvious spot and smile. I just responded with a grunt and stomped over to apply more paint. My reward was always a peck on the cheek. I would respond with a sigh. Then my glowing wife just sat back in the radiant window light and waited to tease me again. Those were happy times.

Now the room is much different. An old comforter was tacked over the window. It blocked a majority of the light from entering or exiting the room. This was a smart move. I hadn’t considered it before the world went to hell. Days before things got really bad and I was trapped at work, I boarded up the outside of the house. I’m not contractor, so the work wasn’t perfect. The extra layer of protection would keep someone from getting in or out for a while, but an attentive eye might spot shadows in the room. Blocking out the light allows for some freedom of movement inside.

Only the fringes of the plastered blanket were visible. The rest was blocked by Maddox’s vertically turned bed. After the propped up twin mattress was his large dresser. I refinished the dresser for Maddox before he was born; it was mine as a kid. This combined barricade made the room as safe as it was dark.

Despite the blocked window, the room was empty. I turned my attention down the hall. Immediately, I felt dumb for not noticing the pull down ladder obstructing the hall way. The wooden steps grew closer with each aching shuffled step. Beyond it I could see little detail. Considering the effort Sarah went to in securing Maddox’s room, it’s logical to assume she treated the rest of the house equally.

Movement was quickly becoming easier. The stiff pain was less noticeable with every step. It felt great to be out of bed. All relief aside, I was unnerved by how foreign this fortified house of mine actually felt. Soon I noticed the light trickling down from the attic entrance. Slats from the ladder were lit from a faint, unnatural white light.

After another step I was soothed by a break in the eerie quiet. A dainty giggle followed by the muffled sound of a voice. The smile on my face was unavoidable. That giggle could even charm the undead.

The pull down ladder takes up most of the hallway. Squeezing past while it’s extended always proved challenging. Each time I would suck in my gut, cursing myself for gaining more weight. Navigating through the space between the wall and wooden contraption was different this time.

I braced myself on one of the wooden slats and slipped through with ease. It was at that moment I realized how much my shape has changed. Ignoring the pain involved, I reached down and lifted the ribbed shirt Sarah had put me in so that I could inspect my waistline. Before the world ended, these pants fit my beltline like an elastic glove. Now, I was shocked at the sag that drooped from the fabric line. “Why did it take the apocalypse for me to lose some fucking weight?” I thought.

A chill worked over me. Air in the house is brisk. I somehow hadn’t noticed it until my skin touched the wooden ladder. The thorough nestling I had enjoyed on bed rest kept me from feeling how much of the pre-winter air leaked inside.

My neck arched upwards to the glowing hole in the ceiling. Bending in such a way sent waves of pain through my form. At first the words didn’t find their way out of my throat. On the second attempt they finally came, “Hi family…”

...Day One...Revival

2011-08-19T15:57:00.000-04:00

…Day One…

November 23, 2015 – 1100 hours:

Time has become so skewed that this unconscious realm is all I know. I have honestly grown to accept this oddly… peaceful state of being. The looming concerns of slowly turning into an undead monster were manageable after the hell I’d been through to get here.

“Maybe I am dead.” My voice echoed throughout the consciously empty void. “Isn’t acceptance one of the final stages of grief?” Being stuck with my thoughts and the occasional outside voice for this long has me questioning reality.

The midnight of my vision was suddenly broken. Blinding streams of light worked through as my stubborn eyelids finally agreed to open. It took intense effort just to will myself to blink. After a few minutes of straining every facial muscle, my surroundings became clearer.

When the body is in near coma, dilatation of your pupils can make any light source seem like a million candles. I quickly realized that there was only one little flame flickering in the corner. My eyes blinked rapidly enough now to eliminate the sandy sight of a persistent vegetative state.

It was only a matter of time before other familiar sensations returned. I wish to God that the next thing to come back was something other than pain… My body hurt everywhere. Pain echoed from my chest and radiated from my leg. Surprisingly, the most notable sensation didn’t come from the duct taped gash on my brow. Now a throbbing ache came from my left leg. It felt like someone had struck me there with a hammer.

I’m laying on something heavenly. It took little contemplation before I recognized it to be my memory foam mattress. The last few places I can clearly remember sleeping are makeshift cots and those fucking railroad tracks.

Then another sensation joined the mix. It was the tiny twitching presence upon my abdomen. Turning my neck to look was so hard. Every atrophied muscle fought the movement. As I willed myself to move, my brain still ran wild with questions about my current state. Fear of possible infection dominated all thoughts. That is, until I saw what lay upon my stomach…

It was a little hand. A sweet, heavenly hand with fingers that twitched like a cat’s paw during a mouse filled dream. My eyes followed the fingers to their source. Clinging to the battered side of me was my darling baby girl, Calise. Her pink pajama-clad arm emerged from beneath the heavy blankets on the bed. Twirling waves of light brown hair topped the face of this angel that was burrowed into my person.

She must have felt the consciousness return to me. A tiny hand moved across my chest towards her face. Every inch of skin that Calise’s hand touched throbbed with pain. My entire existence has been dominated by pain for so long. Each searing nerve served as a reminded of the evil forces that wanted to consume my life. However, for the first time, this bout of discomfort reminded me why I’m still alive.

Two little fingers brushed the hair away from her eyes. Her hair was just as pretty as Sarah’s, only with my color. Now two big, brown unobstructed eyes gazed up to check me. In the flickering candle light I saw them immediately widen. Calise realized that finally, her father was looking back at her. A sweet unbelieving whisper escaped her, “Daddy?”

My throat was dry and both lips were practically fused together. I forced them apart and croaked out a response. “Hi Princess...”

She jumped up, pressing upon my chest for leverage. I winced in pain but didn’t let it affect the growing smile. “Daddy! I knew you were going to wake up!” Then she descended over me in a hug only a daughter could give. Her wavy hair fell across my face and tickled my nose. Every sensation acted as a revival to feelings that had gone so numb.

“You were right, sweetie. I’m so glad that you were right. Watch out though… Daddy has a lot of booboo’s.” She reluctantly released her baby bear hug and sat up next to me.

“Mommy said you would come home.” She started crying. “She said the monsters wouldn’t stop you from finding us… the monsters are really scary but I knew they wouldn’t get you Daddy.”

Tears also streamed down my face. Every inch of me was so numb. I only became aware of the wet, salty streaks when one of them ran over a cut on my skin with a sharp sting. “You were right Princess. I wasn’t going to let the monsters keep me from getting home… why are you the only one here?”

Calise wiped her left arm across her nose and sniffled. “Mommy and Maddox are in the back yard. I told Mommy I wasn’t going to leave you because I had to stop the monsters from trying to get you.”

“Thank you baby. You did a great job keeping me safe.” My tone shifted to become stern. “Why are they in the back yard? It’s not safe outside.”

Her brown hair flung from side to side as she shook her head defiantly. “No no. It’s ok Daddy. The monsters can’t see us in the back yard. We just have to stay quiet and they won’t bother us. But ever since you came home some of them have been banging on the fence.”

“Alright honey,” I tried to sit up. “I’m not mad. Can you go get them and tell them I’m awake?” Calise leaned over and gave me a sweet kiss on the cheek. She then jumped off the bed and moved towards the trap door we’d installed in the bedroom window.

The little angel disappeared behind the blackout curtains. I heard her voice yell out like she was telling someone a secret. Then she jumped backward and a blur of motion pushed past the thick fabric. Maddox popped into the room with the ease only an eight year old could muster.

“Daddy!” He said in disbelief. “You’re ok!” My son looked taller than when I last saw him. Maddox practically jumped over his little sister to reach the bed. He grabbed me in a painful hug. Calise, ignoring my earlier pleas to be gentle, joined her brother in the embrace. Being held again by my children made it easy to disregard the pain radiating within me.

“Hi Monkey.” I said with a proud smile. “I see you’ve been taking care of Mommy and Calise.”

He stood up looking like a little man. “I did just as you asked me to, Daddy. I knew you wouldn’t let the zombies stop you.”

My heart sank at the word. I’ve been unconscious and isolated for so long that it’s easy to forget what has happened to the world. Frankly, my mind has probably been looking for every reason to not think about the hordes of undead that have consumed the planet. I tried to hide my discontent, “You were very right Maddox. I’m just glad you kept our ladies safe.”

Then the curtains rose again. The area was granted an increase in illumination from outside. Through the natural light, my beautiful bride entered the joy filled room. She looked at me and smiled. Tears rolled down from her gracious eyes. Her cold hands were placed over my cheeks and her lips met mine. Sarah gave me a tender kiss then looked into my eyes. “Welcome home, Nathan.”

1130 hours:

Sarah sent the kids up to the attic.

Maddox proudly informed me that he had helped her clear out the area so they’d have a place to spend time. It was a smart move. The attic is more isolated from sound and has a large open area. In there, the kids would be able to move around without worrying as much about being seen from outside. Not to mention, the only way to reach it is with a pull down ladder. If the infected were to break inside then they wouldn’t be able to reach anyone up there.

I watched my wife as she saw the kids out and closed the door. Sarah climbed up into the bed and under the covers. She filled the area that was still warm from where Calise had been nestled. Her head leaned on my shoulder and she started weeping.

“Baby,” I was crying too but naturally wanted to put her at ease. “I’m home – just like I said I’d be. It’s ok now.”

“I was starting to lose hope.” She said in a soft, almost shameful voice.

“So was I. There were so many of them… Sarah, I… I did some terrible things.” My words trailed off.

“But now you’re here. You promised you’d make it and you have.” She tried to shift the subject. “You had so many injuries. I did my best to patch you up.”

Memories of the creature biting me came prominently to mind. “Sweetie…” I felt like I was telling her that I had cancer, “I remember being bitten.”

“You were.”

Again my heart sank. “Then I have to leave. I’m not going to put you at risk. You know what a bite does… right?”

Her voice was oddly calm. “Yes of course I do. I was willing to use a shotgun against those people because I know. But the bite didn’t go through your skin.”

I was so ready to accept the fate of infection that I nearly argued the fact. “How is that possible? I remember the pain.”

Sarah sat up and reached over to the nightstand. Her hand returned with a flashlight and a freezer size Ziploc bag. The beam revealed a dirty layer of duct tape. I looked closer and saw the obvious, gore splotched, bite mark that was indented in the silver sleeve.

“The tape stopped the bite?”

She nodded happily. “Yes it did. But… what was this?” Sarah flipped the bag over to show the adhesive side. It was salted with my forcibly removed leg hair. Her finger pointed to a little broken black rectangle wrapped in plastic.

Immediately I was taken back to that night. I remembered the feeling of utter despair I’d suffered from thinking I wouldn’t make it home. Most of all, I remembered the shell of a man I saw played back in the messages I’d recorded to say goodbye. Sarah noticed the distant look on my face. “Sweetie, what was this?”

“It’s nothing that matters now. I’m just glad it was there.” I hoped she’d pick up on the hint and not push the subject any longer. That man who’d recorded those goodbye messages didn’t exist any more. All the remains is the future. "How long was I out?"

“Me too. You were out for days. I was worried we'd have to take you with us still unconscious.” She looked away then continued. “I stitched up your forehead and bandaged a lot of other places.” I felt my forehead and was comforted by a covering not made of duct tape. “We also had some antibiotics that weren’t too old. I ground them up and put them in your water. It’s only been a couple days but I think the inflammation is down.”

“Thank you for tending to me… I needed it.” I said with a smile.

“You’ve definitely got some broken bones though.” Now my wife turned on the commanding power of a mothering tone. “So I hope you’re comfortable, because you’ll be laying here another week at least.”

“I can live with that. Is the house safe? Do we have enough supplies until I can get more mobile?”

She smirked and scolded me. “We’ll be fine. Maddox is helping out a lot. Just get better and then we can figure out what to do next.”

“Yes ma’am.” She settled back down next to me. “Sarah, am I in my pajamas?”

This was met with a cute giggle. “Yes, you are. Your clothes were covered in things I don’t even want to think about. And I had to make sure you weren’t bitten anywhere else.” She stopped and was quiet for a moment. “Nathan, you had blood on you.”

“I was pretty messed up.”

“I know, but it wasn’t in places where you were injured. Did someone else bleed on you?”

“Oh…” I knew she’d found blood that belonged to the man whose life I’d ended. “Yeah… Someone did.”

A partner in life can recognize when you don’t want to talk about something. Sarah picked up on this and didn’t push the matter. “It doesn’t matter what you did to get here.” She stifled more sobs. “The only thing that matters is that you are here.”

My love got up from the bed. I looked back at her like the simple act of leaving the bed was like pulling out my life support. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get the kids something to eat. And if you can get some substance in you, then we can get some drugs in your system.” Sarah said without a hint of concern for my response. My response was a side note because she was right – she’s always right.

“I’ll be right here.” I said with a strengthening voice. She said nothing back, only looking towards me with a smile.

Alone now, I lay in the bed reeling over recent events. My dilapidated form subdued the natural instinct I’d formed to jump up and find a weapon. After fighting tooth and nail against hell incarnate, I can’t fault myself for still wanting to follow this urge.

Sarah returned a few minutes later. In her hand was one of our translucent green plastic cups. It was littered with cracks that should have made the drinking apparatus useless long ago. Somehow, years later, the thing still holds liquid. Now it was filled with a brown fluid that became distorted from the ribbed texture of the glass. She set the drink down on the night stand and pulled the blind back a bit.

In the new brightness, I watched her take a pillow and attempt to help me sit up. My muscles were stiff and resistant. Pain echoed everywhere that pain could be felt. After a minute of struggle, I was sitting up at a forty-five degree angle. Sarah handed me the glass.

The drink looked like cheap lunchroom chocolate milk. “What is it?” I asked hesitantly.

“Darling, whatever it is,” She said with a devious smirk, “you’re going to drink it.”

I can win battles against the undead, but it’s not worth trying against the much more fearful force that is my wife. The drink wasn’t as bad as I thought… but then it wasn’t great either. I choked it down and enjoyed the sensation of sustenance returning to my body. “This tastes like that Carnation Instant Breakfast crap.”

“Probably because it is that crap… only in water instead of milk.” Sarah snickered. She walked into the bathroom and returned with an old prescription pill bottle.

“What, you’re trying to drug me now? Come on, you’ve already got my pants off!” I said, chuckling painfully. It’s amazing I can be here joking with my beloved. Given the fact that the dead have risen, scores of them were taken apart by my hand, and scores more await my blade; laughter is rarer than a beating heart. Marital humor is a powerful force.

She rolled her eyes at me and twisted the bottle open. “It’s the pain pills you never took from when you broke those toes. They’re a little expired but it should help more than Advil.”

I was born a klutz. Frankly, I’m shocked that I won any battle against the dead. My normal level of clumsy dexterity should have created a fatal ‘out take’ of some kind. Fortunately, I had the driving motivation to be right where I am now… Sarah handed me two of the capsules. I downed them with the last sip of my chocolate flavored beverage.

“Get some rest Nathan.” My wife commanded with loving eyes. “The meds should help you sleep. I’ll send your watchdog of a daughter in to check on you later.”

“Please remind her that hugs hurt when your ribs are broken…”

Sarah laughed. “I will, but you know it’ll only make her want to hug you more.” She turned to the door.

“Sarah…” I said almost shyly.

Her hair angelically flipped around with turning head. “Yes baby?”

“I…” My voice choked and cut off. “I just wanted to tell you that I love you.”

A smile worked over her face. When she turned I saw that her eyes were already moistened with tears that had formed before what I just said. Sarah walked over to me and gave me a soft kiss on the lips. “I know you do sweat heart.”

Then she was gone and I was alone again. My mind was so flooded with thought that I couldn’t focus on a singular one. Any effort to sort through the tsunami of worry was drowned by the greater strength of sleep’s embrace.

Book Two: ...Prologue... Purgatory

2011-08-15T02:22:00.001-04:00

…Purgatory…

I was pretty sure I had died.

Flashes of realization would come into the darkness around me. I remember the long fight home. Knowing how bad everything hurt didn’t mean a thing. The full body pain had joined my sense of normal being. “Why wouldn’t there be pain in Hell?” I thought. I could only be sure that I wasn’t in Heaven.

Then I’d hear their voices. It was always just a light whisper. “I love you Nathan.” Sarah’s sorrowful voice would say. Then the noise of silence. “Daddy, you’re going to be ok.” Maddox’s voice would break in. More silence… more pain. “Daddy,” Now it was Calise, my little princess that would break through, “You’re not one of the monsters Daddy. You can wake up now because you’re not one of the monsters.”

“How is it that I can still hear them? Am I infected?” The thoughts ran rampant. This wavering unconscious state has provided me with plenty of troubling time to entertain them, also.

Searching my memory for clues brought troubling memories. I recall shooting my way through the wall of zombies. I can feel the air flow over my face as I hurtled through the air. The pain from impacting the street is still with me today.

“What is today?” I prodded my brain for some perspective of time and space. “Will I ever wake up? Wasn’t I bitten?”

The burning in my leg answered that question. I remember a hobbling creature coming for me. His firm, icy grip through the filthy pants I wore. Then there was the searing pain from his teeth upon my skin. The pressure of his bite was so strong I could find no reason to doubt the ensuing infection.

I could feel my head being lifted up. Cool, heavenly water traveled down my throat. Then I was gently placed back on the soft cradle below. Every unknown moment of this blackened thought made me feel closer to reality.

Strength gradually returned to my being. I was still consumed by this void but felt clarity trickle back in. “Am I feeling better because I’m about to turn?” The time I spent around the undead proved that the R33PR Virus gave afflicted the ultimate strength. Sure it killed them, but it also enabled them to undergo horrible injury and unending effort without faltering.

“If I’m infected and only feeling better because I’m about to turn,” I mentally reasoned, “then I have to get out of here. I can’t infect them. I’ve heard their voices, I know they are here.”

Yet no matter how much I screamed at myself to move – I could not. All I could do is stay in this darkness and dwell on what I’d done to arrive here. “This is punishment for what I have done.” Ran through my eager mind. When you have nothing but thoughts and pain to contend with; your brain turns vindictive.

I saw faces. Faces of the people I abandoned. Faces of the zombies I slaughtered. The face of the man I’d killed. All were faces that inundated me with guilt. Guilt for the fate I’d left them to or the end I had created. “Get out of the house before you hurt them.” Screamed my mind. “GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Instead, I did nothing. I remained in the unknown void. It was just me, the seemingly familiar voices and the unrelenting torment of thought. All I can do is wait to go back into the loving light, or join the ravenous darkness that consumed this world.

...Relics from the end... (non-text)

2011-02-24T06:47:00.000-05:00