Affliction Z: Abandoned Hope (Post Apocalyptic Thriller) (14 page)

The ground felt damp and cold. The few remaining bugs
crawled across Kathy’s exposed skin. She didn’t care. Not about the cold, the
wet, or the bugs. She felt disassociated from herself. Her jumbled thoughts
told her she should be dead. After all, she slept shirtless through a
near-freezing night.

What had happened to her shirt?

She struggled to recall. Words were difficult to form in her
mind, so she resorted to images. She’d taken off after something, an animal for
food perhaps. The creature led her into the woods. A collision with low hanging
branches resulted in her shirt being torn off her body.

Had that been yesterday, or the day before?

She couldn’t tell. The last few ran together.

She no longer felt sick. The coughing had stopped. The fever
had gone away. New sensations replaced the old. She felt a hunger, a craving,
for flesh. She needed to eat. It didn’t matter that there was a pantry full of
food. That did nothing for her when she scarfed it down. The desire for warm,
raw meat had taken over. She had also become acutely aware of everything around
her over the past few days. It was in stark contrast to the way she felt about
the shell she inhabited. She could brush her fingers across the bark of a tree
and it might as well have been a silk sheet. It didn’t register. But when a
rabbit moved fifty yards away, she honed in on it.

Few human thoughts remained with her. The ones that did were
powerful. She thought of the man she called her husband, and the girl she
called her daughter. Those words meant little to her anymore, but she still
felt a strong connection with the memories of the two of them. Scenes of her
life with them would fire off in her mind at odd intervals. She never noticed a
scene that played twice, and she could no longer recall an event after she saw
it. She knew they were there, somewhere, but she could not access them again,
no matter how hard she tried.

The house that she hung around held some significance to her
as well. She knew enough to go inside to find food, but aside from that, she
wasn’t sure what it was for. Yet, she did not want to leave it. In the shadow
of the house, she felt something. Normalcy, perhaps. That’s the word that came
to her, at least.

Kathy licked her dirt-caked lips and lifted her head. She
glanced up at the gray sky and wondered if it were about to rain.

Would she care? Would she even know what rain was by the
time she felt it again?

This is how it played out in her mind. One minute more human
than monster. The next, more monster than human.

She pushed herself off the ground, sliding her feet
underneath her so she could remain crouched. The tall grasses in the field
provided her with cover. She heard a rumbling in the distance. It reminded her
of the truck driven by the man she knew was her husband. With her head exposed
enough that she could see around her, she scanned the area in front of the
house. A squirrel darted across the lawn. That was it. She shuffled her feet
and turned in a circle. She was all alone.

Kathy rose and started toward the house. She didn’t know
why. She felt pulled toward it.

The rumbling sound grew louder. At the edge of the field,
Kathy stopped and once again took in her surroundings. Trees lined the edge of
the property except for a small stretch to accommodate the driveway. Even then,
the driveway snaked toward the house, ensuring that it could not be spotted
from the road. Kathy wondered how she knew that. It did not dawn on her that
she had traveled along the path daily for the past eight years.

Unable to spot the source of the sound, she continued toward
the house, moving quickly between the field and the structure. She stared at the
things in front of it. Cars, she recalled, although she had no idea what to do
with one. They could be driven, but what was that?

Kathy kept one fingertip on the house as she walked toward
the back. The kitchen door was still open, granting her access to the inside of
the home. Once in the kitchen, she stood motionless, staring at the things on
the wall. Pictures of the man and the girl stared back at her. There was a
third person, another woman, in some of them. Her gaze shifted to the right,
coming to a stop at a spot directly in front of her. The same woman stared back
at Kathy. As she leaned forward, so did the lady. When she turned her head, the
person opposite her did so as well. Kathy lunged forward and struck the face
that taunted her. After three quick blows, the woman was gone.

The warm fluid running down Kathy’s arm barely registered.
She looked down and smeared the red substance with her other hand. She lifted
her hand to her mouth and licked it. Her tongue tingled, and her stomach became
riddled with hunger pains. Her desire for fresh flesh increased.

She needed to eat soon.

Kathy left the kitchen. She headed toward the front of the
house. The rumbling engine she’d heard earlier sounded even closer. Her body
felt energized by the sound.

Kathy’s mind shifted toward the human side, something that
happened less frequently. Her hand hurt, but she ignored the pain long enough
to retrieve a pistol from the gun cabinet. She wasn’t sure what to do with it.

She looked out the window. A large truck was parked in the
middle of the driveway. She didn’t recognize the vehicle. The doors were wide
open. The glare of the sun prevented her from seeing inside the cab, so she had
no idea how many were there.

A denim-clad leg hit the ground, followed by another. A heavy-set
man appeared from behind the door. He shut it, took a step back, and opened the
rear door. A second man stepped out. He was about half the size of the first.
From the other side of the truck, two more men appeared. They were all armed
with rifles and were walking toward the house. One stopped and inspected the
vehicles in front of it. He grabbed the motorcycle by the handlebar and wheeled
it behind their truck.

“Bastards,” she muttered, thinking for a second that she
should kick the door down and shoot each man where they stood.

The balance of control over Kathy’s mind started to shift
the other way. Instead of firing a bullet at them, she now wanted to lunge and
attack and tear them apart with her hands. Knowing that she might not have much
time left as herself, Kathy verified that the front door was locked, ran to the
kitchen, shut and locked the back door, and then went upstairs. From her
bedroom, she watched the men fan out around the front of the house. The window
was slightly cracked. A stiff breeze blew through. She could smell the diesel
fumes from the truck outside.

The large man moved to the middle of the yard. He rested his
rifle at his side and cupped his hands to his mouth.

“Come on out,” he yelled. “We know you’re in there, and we
can tell you’ve got a bunch of supplies and some kind of power system set up. I
repeat, come on out. We want to talk to you.”

Kathy studied the man, trying to place him. She couldn’t,
though. How did he know what they had? Did they know him? She knew her memory was
fading, so it might have been possible that she’d simply forgotten the guy.

“Last chance,” the guy yelled. “If you don’t come out, we’re
gonna start shooting.”

Anger scratched through Kathy. Who were they to come and
shoot up her house?

She dropped to the floor and crawled out of the room. Once
in the hall, she stood and moved quickly down the stairs, taking them two at a
time. She went back to the front windows, parted the curtains with her index
and middle finger, and spotted the men out front. They’d lined up in front of
the house. All four had their rifles extended in her direction.

“This is it. No more warnings. On the count of three, we’re
firing.”

The pain in Kathy’s hand dulled. Her surroundings started to
become unfamiliar to her. She rubbed at her face with her cut hand, smearing
blood on her cheeks. The fluid got into her eye and stung.

“One.”

She glanced down. In her left hand, she held a pistol. She
could shoot, but how many of them could she hit with her off-hand?

“Two.”

She shifted the gun to her right hand, but found it
impossible to grip the weapon. It fell to the floor. She didn’t care. At that
moment, she wanted to run through the front door and attack the heavy man.
Instead, she took a few steps back and turned away from the window.

“Three. Open the door or we’re coming for you.”

Kathy sprinted toward the kitchen, rounding the corner as
the first shots splintered the front door and shattered the windows. Her leg
ached. She looked down and saw a long sliver of wood jutting out from her calf.
Reaching back, she grasped it with her left hand and yanked it out. An arterial
spray of blood splattered the wall. She crawled to the oven and pulled down a
hand towel. She tied it around her calf.

The shots continued for another thirty seconds. During that
time, Kathy crawled down the hall that led to the garage. She reached up,
turned the knob and pulled the door open. Once past the threshold, she closed
the door and locked it from the inside. She couldn’t reach the security locks,
so she left them. Kathy planted her cut hand on the first step. Though she felt
no pain, the severed tendons made it impossible to get a grip, and she tumbled
to the floor.

She stared up at the bright hole in the ceiling. She pulled
a step-ladder over, climbed it and slid the cover over the tube’s opening. The
garage went dark.

The firing had stopped. Kathy heard the men shouting. It
sounded like they were both inside and outside the home. She looked toward the
front of the room. Long fingers of light entered the garage from bullet holes
in the garage door.

She dragged herself toward the back of the room. With her
good hand, she pulled the workbench out of the way and managed to open the door
hiding the tunnel hatch. She sat back with her heels underneath her and looked
at the camera.

“Please, Sean,” she said. “They’re going to kill me.”

She tucked her chin to her chest and felt tears slide down
her cheek. A buzzing started in her forehead and worked its way around and
through her brain. Every inch it traveled, Kathy cared less about the dire
situation she was in.

She only knew that which she desired most was nearby.

Sean watched in horror as the men extended their rifles and
shot at the front of his home. They managed to hit and destroy one of his
cameras. The screen turned to snow. He cycled to a different camera, one
further back on the property, giving him a wide-angle view.

He shifted his gaze from the men to his wife. She crawled
along the kitchen floor, leaving a trail of blood. It appeared that she grabbed
a towel and wrapped it around her calf.

Had she been shot?

He looked back at the men. They continued to fire. He
glanced at the kitchen image. Kathy was gone. Knowing that she wouldn’t have
gone back to the living room, he switched to the garage. She lay at the bottom
of the stairs. He panned around with the camera. It was evident that they had
shot through the garage door.

What if they’d hit her? Would they take her body? Burn it?
Burn the house down?

While they were safe in the bunker, he’d rather not attract
more people, and beings, to the property.

Kathy lifted her torso off the ground and began crawling to
the back of the garage. He knew she was going to the tunnel entrance.

The men out front had begun to walk toward the house. It
wouldn’t be long until one or more of them made their way to the garage.

Sean brought up the camera feed outside of the tunnel
entrance. Kathy’s face filled a quarter of his screen. Though the sound was
off, he could tell what she was saying.

“Please, Sean. They’re going to kill me.” He heard her voice
so clearly in his head.

“Dammit,” Sean yelled, rising from his chair.

Both bedroom doors opened and the dog ran to his side.

“What’s wrong, Sean?” Barbara asked.

Emma looked too scared to talk.

“Back in your rooms,” he commanded. “Both of you. I don’t
have time to explain. Whatever happens, don’t open that door for a fucking
soul. Got it?”

Emma and Barbara both stared at him, and then looked to one
another.

“Come over here, Em,” Barbara said.

Emma glanced at her father. He nodded, and Emma slipped out
of her room and ran into Barbara’s.

Sean waited until the door clicked shut. He armed himself
with two M-9s, holding one in his hand and securing the other in a thigh
holster. He pulled out an HK MP7, which he strapped across his chest, and an
M4, which he slung over his shoulder.

Marley followed him to the front door. Though the dog could
be an asset, he didn’t want to risk injury to Barbara’s pet.

“Stay, Marley,” Sean said.

The dog sat down and cocked his head to the side.

Sean opened the door and stepped outside. Marley rose and
moved forward. “Stay,” Sean said.

The dog didn’t obey him.

“Dammit, dog, stay in there.” He nudged the dog back through
the door. He then pulled it shut and pushed against it, verifying it was
locked. The tunnel felt hollow and empty. It’d stay that way if he went back
inside. For now, at least. If he didn’t take care of the men who’d broken in,
they might discover the entrance. Though they wouldn’t get through, that didn’t
mean they would stop trying.

Sean planned on leaving the bunker at some point. What would
he do if there were an army of men waiting for him?

He decided to take the tunnel to the barn. The first dark
spot he reached, he placed the M4 on the floor against the wall. It was risky,
but it might come in handy should someone follow him back down. He removed the
ammunition clip and placed it in one of the spare pockets of his cargo pants.

Sean rose, glanced back over his shoulder, then made his way
toward the barn exit.