The Dead
Chapter 1
I staggered back to the camp after a relatively uneventful an exhausting night on watch. Screech owls, or at least I think that's was, I'm wasn't exactly an outdoor child, and the dead sound oddly similar in the dark. So I spent most of my night chasing shadows because of those damn things. Part of me wants to believe that we are far enough out of the city to not have to deal with the dead, let's tell the truth I know better. I was starving and Peter was still asleep. I decided to cook a small meal, hoping we still had some food left. Grabbing my pack I began rummaging through my things in search of food. A stick of jerky, an unopened can of veggies, a protein bar, anything that could get me and Peter through the next few days. Finding nothing but dirty clothes and a few tampons, I started through Peter's bag with almost the same luck. A candy bar. It wasn't much but it was something. We had managed to get out of the city but with little to no supplies, we only had what we could carry and that hadn't been much. If we were lucky we could find a house with some leftover can goods or even a garden. Maybe, even someplace we could hole up for the winter that would be here before long. Other than the birds singing it was quiet out and a light fog covered the field we had camped in, it was quickly dissipating in the warm morning sun. If it hadn't been for the world ending, it would have been a beautiful day.
"Good morning!" A voice called out from the vanishing brute.
I kicked Peter awake, jumped for my gun, and pointed it towards the voice. Seconds later I was joined by my young companion as we waited to see who had called to us. There weren't too many people out in the world, you never knew what kind of person you would encounter.
"I have never been so happy to see another person in my life. The most I have seen in the last few weeks have been the dead ones." A large dark-haired man in a long duster stepped from the fog, a large cowboy hat covered his eyes and a large smile crossed his face. He had a rifle on his back and something heavy swung inside his coat as he walked, his footfalls muffles by the gloom. The stranger flopped down in front of the fire, his coat opening to reveal a crowbar and removed a flask. Taking the first swig, I'm fairly sure it was to show whatever he had in there was safe and offered us a drink. "I am Paxton and you are on my land," he chuckled, "or what I consider my land. I cleared out a farmhouse a couple of miles back. I came out to hunt and search for survivors when I noticed your fire. You two are the first people I have seen in over a month. How rude of me. I never asked your names," He laughed again, this laugh crinkling his blue eyes.
"I'm Zoe and this is Peter," I said taking the flask as Paxton offered it again. The whiskey that greeted my lips warmed me. I offered him something to eat and he politely refused, offering us breakfast.
"You could get a little rest and a full belly before you move on. If you'd like you could stay for a few days. I have plenty of room" Paxton said stretching as he rose.
The fog had cleared by the time we were packed ready to leave, having decided to take Paxton up on his offer, for the night anyway. It would be nice to have a meal without looking over our shoulders. Maybe even relax a bit.
"More than a couple hours sleep would be nice," I said as we made our way across the field, my eyes vigilant for any odd movements.
"I can do you one better, I have hot water," Paxton said throwing an arm around my shoulder playfully.
"A shower would be wonderful," I said glancing back at my companion.
Peter grumbled an answer but otherwise kept silent. He seemed a bit perturbed at our host for taking to me so quickly. I'll admit it was a little off-putting, but it was nice to have somebody other than Peter pay attention to me. I just hoped my young companion would be on his best behavior.
The wind picked up as we walked, and the stench of rotting meat caught my nose making me gag. I would have vomited if it hadn't been for my empty stomach. I tried to ignore the smell, the wind could have carried that scent for miles. It didn't mean there were any dead things close by, I told myself as my eyes began scanning the area around me catching movement to my left. I turned to assess the situation. A small group, no more than five dead things were shambling their way towards us. Not wanting to waste bullets, I pulled my machete.
"Are you crazy?" Peter said, pulling his gun. "Just shoot the damn things."
"I'm not wasting ammo on a handful of dead things. We may need it later. If there are more around they'll head towards the noise." I said to Peter. Turning to Paxton, who had a crowbar in hand. "Guess I don't need to ask you." Returning my attention to Peter who was lining up his first shot. "I said don't waste the rounds. Put your gun up and pull your blade."
"I can take them easily!" Peter whined, he turned his head towards me as he spoke, his gun still trained on the moaning herd.
"And if there is more nearby you'll bring them to my home. If that happens, boy I'll shoot you myself." Paxton growled grabbing him. "Get out your blade now and do as the lady says." Releasing Peter, he headed towards the group by my side.
As we stepped toward the shambling hoard one of the creatures reached out for me, long rust-colored nails narrowly missed me as I swung my machete connecting with the side of what used to be its face. It fell to the ground as I removed my blade making my way to the next as it lurched towards me. I heard a yelp behind me as I took it down, turning towards the sound I saw Peter pull his gun as one of those things got too close. Before I could yell at him to stop, he pulled the trigger bringing down. I swore and ran towards him taking out another dead thing in my path. As I reached my impetuous companion ready to throttle him, I heard Paxton shout.
More were coming.
"Why can't you listen?" I ask grabbing Peter's gun and shoving it into the back of my jeans. "We have to work together." I turned to Paxton who just nodded and readied himself for the next wave. "We'll talk later. For now, get your ass ready for a fight."
When all was said and done we exhaustively stacked the bodies and resumed our journey to Paxton's farm with the plan of returning with burning supplies.
We arrived at the farm starving and in need of a shower. My hair was slick with blood and my body sticky.
"We'll take the truck. It'll be faster." Paxton said as we stumbled into the kitchen of the farmhouse, "You should stay here and get some rest," he said looking at me as he grabbed his keys off a hook near the open door. "You're barely standing as it is."
"I'll be fine," I said trying to reassure him and fighting the urge to fall over. I wasn't about to let them go back out there without me. I stepped back out the door and waited for them to follow.
After what seemed like an eternity both men stepped outside and Paxton showed us to the truck. Peter jumped into the back of the cab, while I climbed into the front.
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay behind? You can take a shower, get a nap." Paxton said as he started the engine. "This really is a two-man job."
Shifting to look at him. "You are going to need a third person. I can keep watch while you two burn the bodies. It'll be safer."
"You look as if you could fall over at any moment. I know we just met but I don't want either of you hurt," A genuine look of worry fell over Paxton's face.
"Zoe, stay behind. This will go quicker if you do," Peter murmured not hiding the frustration in his voice.
"I can go for days without sleep. I have. You are going to need back up in case more of those things show up," I said softly as my gaze shifted from Peter to Paxton. "You have every right to question my judgment, but I am fine. You don't need to worry about me. I am stronger than I look. If both of you want I'll stay on the truck and watch from there, but I am going with you."
We drove back to the field in silence, neither bothering to argue any more than they already had, and climbed from the truck. I jumped into the bed, rifle at the ready. My eyes scanning for motion as the men began to douse the pile with kerosene.
The smell of burning flesh never fails to sicken me no matter how many times I've had to endure it. I've never been able to find anything strong enough to cover that grotesque odor up. I could feel acid in my throat and wretched, once again grateful to have an empty stomach. I prayed that the bodies would burn quickly as I shifted my gaze from watching the guys to the horizon. If you burned like this in the city you could bet that you were going to add to more to the pyre. Out here though it seemed you might be able to do more than fight. You might actually be able to survive. I looked over at Paxton as he manned the fire, he marched the perimeter of the flames making sure they didn't spread beyond the circle he and Peter had laid out for it. Peter, on the other hand, was watching the expanse of land facing my direct opposite. They must have been talking, every so often when I turned around Paxton would turn his head to the boy and mouth something. Once I saw Peter turn his head and say something back. I smiled as I watched the older of the two through his head back in laughter. I stifled a yawn as I turned back to scan the field for any sign of movement that might have been drawn to the smoke.
The wind picked up and began to blow the smoke in my direction, taking the front of my dirty shirt I covered my nose only to pull it back down seconds later as it did nothing to help with either the smoke or the smell. As I watched the horizon in front of me, the only movement being the tall grass and the scattered handful of trees in the wind. I blinked and felt the truck bed move under me. I jumped, training the rifle on its cause.
"Relax, I just came to check on you. Peter said he could hear you snoring," Paxton chuckled as I dropped the rifle and handed it to him. He took it from me with a warm smile. "Why don't get some rest, we're almost done here."
"I'm fine," I say crossing my arms and leaning against the truck. I don't like the idea of falling asleep out here in the open. I hug my arms against me a little tighter to guard against the shaky feeling of hunger and fatigue. Now was not the time to get comfortable.
Paxton nods at me, sets the rifle down, and grabs a couple shovels as he dismounts from the back of the truck. He hands one to Peter and looks back at me before he follows the boy, "there's a blanket in the truck if you want to warm up."
Peter turns and mouths something to Paxton making him nod. I can only imagine what the boy is saying as they begin to smother the fire. I climb down from the truck fighting my exhaustion as I head to the open rear door and grab a blanket from the back seat. I'm not cold but I'm hoping its warmth will somehow keep me from passing out. I shudder and pull the blanket tighter around me as I fight back a yawn. At this point, a soft breeze could knock me over. I can hear the fire's crackles slowly dying out. I watched as the men continued to smother the fire, pleased that I hadn't seen any more dead things.
A yawn escaped my lips as I leaned against the truck. I tilted my head back and allowed the sun to warm me. For a brief moment, I let my guard down. Feeling a hand on my shoulder I swung as I opened my eyes narrowly missing Paxton's jaw.
"Jumpy there aren't we Zoe," Peter called from behind me. I heard a laugh from the boy as he chucked what I could only guess was the shovels they had been using to extinguish the fire.
"You were snoring," Paxton grinned boyishly. "Told you that you should have stayed behind. Why don't you stretch out in the back, I doubt there'll be any more issues on the way back."
"Wake me if anything happens," I yawned climbing into the back seat, the blanket still wrapped around my shoulders.
I could hear Peter and Paxton talking in hushed tones as I dozed in the back of the truck. Throwing the blanket over my head to muffle their voices, I blinked in and out of consciousness. I wanted to rest but my brain was screaming to be on alert for dead things. Exhaustion won out as I listened to the hypnotic sound of the engine and the whispers of the men in the front seat. I woke still wrapped in my blanket, yawning I began to close my eyes as sleep called to me once more. I adjusted and only then did I realize I was no longer in the truck. Shooting up from my spot I looked around the dimly lit room, my eyes adjusting quickly as I tried to make sense of where I was before the panic I was starting to feel set in. It was a fairly plain room, like the room you might see while on vacation in a mountain cabin. From what I could see as my eyes adjusted to the shadows as I sat there on the bed trying to calm my rapid breathing. There was a basic bed, of which I was perched on, I could feel the soft quilting over the firmness of the mattress. I could see the outline of a dresser and to my right a smallish side table with a lamp. I reached over and tentatively turned it on, flooding the room with light, the very moment I did this I heard a loud crash from the other side of the door. I quickly leaped from the bed knocking over the lamp as I did, leaping into a dark corner as is crashed to the ground.
My heart raced as the door began to open. I sped across the floor over the shattered pieces of the fallen lamp and slammed my body against the door. A second later I heard a soft knock and Peter's voice calling from the other side, asking me to open the door. Cracking the door I peered around and saw only the boy. Throwing the door open I wrapped my arms around him as relief washed over me. I was safe.
"Are you all right," He asked returning my hug and trying his best to comfort me.
"I just panicked a little." Releasing him and pulling myself together, relieved, and embarrassed at my actions.
"You forgot where you were. Didn't you?" Peter chuckled as he playfully rocked me back and forth, turning my fear into laughter before finally releasing me.
I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Paxton, broom in hand came up, he had a worried look on his face. His eyes moved down my body. I took a step towards him to grab the broom and apologize when the broom clattered to the floor and I was carried to the bathroom and plopped onto a small counter.
"You're bleeding," Paxton slid open a drawer, grabbed a pair of tweezers, and a stool as he began to pull shards from my feet. "You were snoring when we brought you in." Trying to distract me from the pain of the glass being dislodged from the soles of my feet.
"I haven't slept much in the last few days." Trying and failing to resist a yelp as another shard, a large one by the feel of it, slid from my foot.
"Sorry, I didn't know that one was going to be that big. When I'm done we'll clean the cuts and wrap them." He was pulling the fragments of glass as gently as he could but one or two pieces still brought me to tears as I tried to remain still.
" I cleaned up the glass, how's it going in here," Peter poked his head into the bathroom.
"Just a little glass in my foot, nothing for you to worry about," trying to smile as Paxton, apologizing as he did it, pulled another large piece from my foot.
I followed Peter's gaze as he looked down at my feet and blanched at the sight. He looked like he was either going to faint or ask the man who was still pulling the glass from my feet to shove over so he could vomit. It was surprising to see Peter's apprehension of blood considering how many dead things we had put down over the last few years. His breathing started to shallow and a wild look danced in his eyes. I adjusted my body away from Paxton and started to slip from my perch only to be stopped by a sharp flash of pain as my feet hit the flood.
"Why don't you go check on dinner? It should be almost ready. I promise to call you if we need anything." He said ushering the boy away from the door. Peter began to protest, his color returning and fear beginning to fill his eyes. Paxton turned to me and excused himself as he gently guided the boy away from the door and closed it behind them.
Alone once again I looked around the bathroom. It was just as simple as the bedroom I had come crashing out of, the only thing that stuck out to me was the large, inviting soaker tub. All I wanted to do was slip out of my clothes and into a nice hot bath and try for a moment to forget my hunger and the dead creatures that shifted and dragged beyond the doors of this safe haven.
"Dinner should be done by the time we get you cleaned up." Paxton murmured as he closed the door behind him a gentle smile lighting his face.
"How long was I out?" I tried to force the yawn that had rose from my lips back down only to fail and allow a larger one to escape.
"A few hours, we thought you would probably sleep until morning. Peter told me you haven't slept more than a few hours in the last few days." He grabbed a couple of small rags from the towel rack and turned on the faucet. I sat there mesmerized at the steam rising from the soft blue basin and I watched as he ran both pieces of cloth under it. He handed me one and I adjusted myself to place my feet under the warm running water. "I've got your feet. I thought you might like to clean up a bit. That son of yours, real protective of you. He doesn't want me around you without him, took all I could to convince him to stay downstairs, and keep an eye on the food."
"Peter's not my son, his family and I were in emergency housing together. I helped with procuring supplies for the compound and Peter's mother helped run the storage units were we kept the supplies. I was there about a year before we were overrun. We made it out together. Peter lost his folks a couple months back." At the thought of Peter's parents and how they died, I started to cry. Wiping the tears with the warm rag, afraid to let this stranger see me at a weak moment. He squeezes my knee and I start to shake as I fight the grief that threatens to pour out of me.
"It's okay to mourn them," Paxton softly speaks as he stands, his voice barely above a whisper. Our eyes lock, he looks as though he wants to say more but the words have failed to come.
"I don't have time to mourn them. I have too much to do before I can even think of allowing myself that luxury." I cough trying to force the tears back as I feel Paxton's arms wrap around me as I begin to sob into his shoulder.
How long had it been since I cried? Months? Years? Once the tears started it seemed as though they wouldn't stop. Paxton held me there not speaking just stroking my back. When I finished he grabbed the washcloth I had been holding and started to wipe the tears from my face.
"How about we get you cleaned up before dinner?" Rinsing the cloth and continuing to wipe my face.
"I need to get my bag," regaining my composure and wincing as my feet hit the floor, staining the tile as I lost my footing and crashed into him.
Catching me before I fell, Paxton offered to get my bag for me saying I needed a chance to relax before dinner.
I turned on the tap and started to strip away my clothes it was a relief to get out of those disgusting things. Looking the nasty, blood-stained, ripped pieces of fabric over I thought about burning them instead of attempting to wash them. "Might be easier. " I laughed as I caught myself in the mirror. My copper hair had faded to a pale brassy hue from the sun and new silver streaks glared back at me. I checked my body and found scrapes and bruises from wandering in the dark the night before, nothing to worry over as I made my way back over to the filling tub. I stepped into the tub feet burning as they hit the heat of the water, little wisps of red danced in the water as I slid the rest of the way into the large tub and shut off the water.
The aches and pains I had felt started to fade as I reclined in the large tub trying to soak off the months of grime from my body, knowing eventually I was going to have to scrub myself clean. I submerged my head and readied myself. It was time to become human.
I stood in front of the mirror once more, a towel wrapped around my body, in need of fresh clothes. It felt nice to be clean again and I knew I would eventually have to give this feeling up and head out into the wilderness once again. I hated the idea of going back out into that wasteland of the dead. Who knew how much longer Peter and I could survive out there with winter coming on.
A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts and for a brief moment, I froze, thinking something had happened and I was going to have to fight my way out of this cramped bathroom.
"Zoe," Peter's voice called softly through the door.
"What happened?" Fearing the worst as I flung open the door. There was Peter, my bag in his hands, blushing heavily as he tried not to call attention to the fact that I was only wearing a towel. Realizing there was nothing wrong and remembering I required clothing I flew behind the door swearing and apologizing.
"Paxton said to tell you dinner was ready and to give you this." He giggled handing the bag through the crack in the door.
The smell of cooking meat hit my nose, reawakening my hunger. Dressing quickly in the cleanest clothes I had before heading down the stairs to the kitchen.
@@
I had been pacing the house since midnight. Everything was quiet and that made me nervous. I don't know how many times I lapped the place but I was beginning to memorize the layout of the ground floor.
The kitchen was done up in haint blue. You never see that color much inside houses where I grew up. It was considered an outdoor color, mostly for shutters, doors, and window frames. There was a legend that it was supposed to frighten away the dead. Not like it did any good, the dead had gotten past that holy color and into our homes. Everything else was gleaming of chrome except for a defunct water pump that was attached to the sink.
I made my way to the living room with its large furniture and it's just as large fireplace. It reminded me of a hunting lodge, maybe it had been, although the severe lack of trophies made me want to rethink that idea.
Grabbing a blanket I curled up on the mountainous sofa and tried to sleep. Sometime later my eyes shot back open and I was once again pacing the floor. Deciding that I was up for the night I went to start some coffee. I grabbed the percolator off the stove and filled the carafe. Reaching for the coffee I heard heavy footfalls behind me. Grabbing the closest thing near me, a frying pan, I turned ready to fight.
"It's just me." Paxton said raising his hands, "I heard you pacing and decided to come and see if you were alright."
"I keep thinking those things are going to come in. I think I could sleep if I knew there was something to alert us."
"Nothing has really gotten past the gate. If you want we can drive around the property and check things out. In the morning Peter and I can check the fence and fix any weak spots. I have weapons in the truck if we need them." He said crossing the room and opening the door, a cold wind knocked into us. Grabbing his coat and tossing me one.
The patrol went quickly. We were far enough away from any city where the dead seemed to gather, Paxton explained as we started back to the house. The thought of being safe, even if only for the night relaxed me and I began to doze. I yawned laying my head against the seat.
Stepping into the house, I kicked off my shoes and crossed the kitchen heading to the living room. I was tired and teetering on my feet. This had been a long night.
"Where did you go?" Peter called from the fire lit living room.
"Patrolling. I was afraid something could get in." I said as Paxton and I entered the living room.
Peter was curled up in a chair, shivering. I had scared him.
"I thought you left me again." Peter choked, trying to hide the tears streaming down his cheeks.
"I promised I wasn't going to do that again. Now go to bed," I tended to forget how young he was, how fragile.
Springing from his seat Peter stomped upstairs.
"Would you like to tell me what happened?" Paxton asked as soon as the boy was out of sight.
"It's a long story. Best told in the morning." I said giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
Moments later Peter returned carrying a pillow and a couple of blankets.
"I'm sleeping down here," Peter said laying them out below the couch. "You are not leaving me again."