Born In The Apocalypse (10 page)

Chapter 21

During the night, the Trippers were all over the place.  They never got inside the walls of our yard, and I could see that Trey’s family was in as decent of shape as we were.  The hard part was being quiet all the time and staying away from the windows. 

In the morning, I amused myself by counting the Trippers first and then giving them names.  There was Suzy, Frank, and Bill over by the shed, and there was Wendy, Maria, and Gordon hanging out by the old mailbox.    There was Brandon by the big tree, and Holly headed over to the creek.  There was Jessica along the wall, and inside the yard was my dad.

I shook my head and looked again.  Sure enough, my father was crawling towards the wall with a small rifle in his hands and a box.  I recognized the box and the rifle.  The rifle was a .22 my dad had found a year ago.  It was supposed to be a copy of a more powerful rifle, but it was still fun to shoot.  It had a thingy on it that was supposed to make the gun shoot quietly, but it was just for show, as my dad said.  But he tinkered with it and found that if he took the fake silent thing off and cut the barrel down, he could attach a big oil filter from a truck.  When he fired it like that, it made almost no sound at all.  Trouble was, we couldn’t aim it very well.  Why my dad had it now was very curious.

He made it to the wall, and I could see his bright white bandage nearly glowing in the early dawn.  He looked up at me and gave me a small wave, then moved over to the wall.  He stood up and rested the big filter barrel in a notch of the rocks.  His head was clearly visible to the Trippers, but they hadn’t seen him yet.  I was nervous as hell, and went so far as to get my bow strung and stand by my window, ready to let fly.

But Dad seemed to know what he was doing.  He made a sound, and the three nearest Trippers moved over to the wall.  They made their way to him, and as the first one stuck his face in the notch, my dad shot him between the eyes.  The Tripper’s head snapped back, and he fell backwards like a tree.  The next one strolled up, stuck his head in, and got nailed for it as well.  I couldn’t hear anything from where I was, and by the looks of the inactivity out there, the Trippers were unaware as well. 

Dad managed to kill ten by the fence, and that was the end of the Trippers on that side.  He crawled along the wall, then popped his head up to look around, ducking it back down before anyone saw him.  He went over to where he saw the nearest Trippers and stuck his rifle over the top.  I saw him looking through a hole in the wall, and then he did something to get the Tripper’s attention.  Several wandered over, and when they were lined up with his gun, he took them out.  Another five added to the score.  I was happy he was killing them until I realized I was going to have to help him clean up.

It went on like this for about an hour.  Dad snuck around and killed Trippers as they came to investigate.  As long as he kept himself out of sight, they wouldn’t see him as a threat.  I wondered if he had wrapped his head in tree branches, could he just walk around and shoot them?  Something to think about.

When he finished, he snuck his way back in, and I could hear him fussing about downstairs.  In a few minutes, he came into my room.

“What do you think?” he asked, looking out the window.

“I’d say you’re about a hundred short, but a good start,”  I said.  “How’s the arm?”

Dad looked at his bandage.  “Seems okay, a little tight, but that’s about it.”

We didn’t say anything for a bit.  We both knew that was the infection starting, and whether it was the virus or just his body reacting to the bite, we would know in a few days.

During the next couple of days my dad brought out the case, and we went over my new Colt.  I practiced loading and unloading it, and I dry-fired it a few times.  My dad taught me how to hold it with both hands, one hand, and how to aim without using the sights.  I didn’t get the chance to actually fire it, but it was for the better.  If the Trippers got over our wall it would have been the end.

Trey and I communicated with each other off and on during the wave.  We tied notes to our arrows and launched them towards each other’s homes.  I had to kneel on the ground and use a slanted hold on the bow, but I managed it all right.  Trey had it easy. With a crossbow, all he had to do was lift it and shoot.

Trey was sad to hear about my dad and jealous about my Colt.  But he said he and his family were doing fine.  He saw the activity next door, and was sad someone had to die.  His dad killed some Trippers like my dad had done, so at least we were accounting for a good number of them.

Two days later the Trippers wandered off.  It wouldn’t be safe to be very far from home for at least another week, so we were going to have to be really careful.

Chapter 22

My dad wasn’t doing well.  He stayed in bed, and at times had a bad fever.  We knew he wasn’t going to make it, and I was worried all the time about what I was going to do about him.  I went up to see him, and it was shocking to see how much he had changed in just a few days.

“Hey, Josh,” Dad said.  He was covered in sweat, and his arm was swollen around the bite mark.  His eyes were red and glazed and he was breathing heavily.  “I’m glad I can remember your name,” he said. “I can feel my mind slipping away.  It’s like I’m losing my memories one at a time.”  He took a small drink of water from the canteen by the bed.  “I can’t remember anything from my childhood.  I tried, but I can’t.”  He closed his eyes.  “It’s all going away.  Nothing to be done for it.”

I looked down not wanting him to see me cry.  It was a few minutes before I could look up again.  “Does it hurt?” I asked, worried about the pain.

“No, it doesn’t.  I don’t feel any pain at all.  I would get up, but I can’t seem to remember how.  It’s all just flowing away.  It’s like my mind has a hole in it, and all the thoughts are leaking out,”  he said.

I hesitated, not wanting to ask the next question.  “What do you want me to do, Dad?”  I didn’t want to hear the answer, but I knew I had to.

Dad sighed.  A long, deep, soul-wrenching sigh.  It was a moment before he answered.  “I don’t want to be one of them, Josh.  They’ve turned me, but I don’t want to be one of them.”

I knew that was the answer, but it didn’t make it any easier.  I didn’t say anything, I just let my tears fall on the floor.  They hit with a wet smacking sound that seemed loud in the room.

“Your mom isn’t doing well, Josh.  You’ll need to look after her when I’m gone,”  he said.  “I think she might be going over the end.”  A spasm hit and he gasped, bringing his hand up to his head.

I watched through my tears, and I just slowly shook my head.  “What can I do, Dad?”

My father slowly breathed in and out, and it was a while before he spoke.  When he did, it was measured and deliberate.  “I’m sorry, son, but I need you to be a man and to do what needs to be done.  There’s no one else.”

In a way, I knew he was going to say that, but the spoken words just shook me worse than before.  I didn’t want to let him down, but I didn’t want to have to kill him, either.  And I really didn’t want to let him turn into something that would try and kill me.  Part of me wondered if it would be easier to kill him when he was fully gone, but I shook that thought out of my head.  My dad didn’t want to turn; he was clear on that.

“Better do it soon, son.  I can feel it moving through my head.  Remember I love you, and remember what I told you before.  Like your books say, you’ll do to ride the river with.”  Dad sighed again and closed his eyes. 

I knew for certain that he wasn’t going to open them again as my father. 

I went downstairs and told my mother.  She nodded, then looked out the window.  She hadn’t spoken much in the last week of the Tripper wave, and I couldn’t blame her. Everywhere she looked she saw her husband.  I told her it might be a good idea for her to go check on the horse for a bit or to go into the garden. 

She looked sharply at me, and I held her gaze.  She slowly nodded and moved to the back door.  Once she was there, she looked back.  “Thank you, Josh.  I’m sorry for what you have to do.  And I’m sorry for what may happen next.”  She left before I could ask what she meant, but I was distracted in a minute by a deep moan that came from upstairs.

I ran up the steps and turned to my room.  I pulled out my Colt and loaded it with five live rounds.  Snapping the loading gate shut, I made sure a round was ready to go, then went down the hall towards my parents’ room. 

Every step felt like I was moving through sand, and my gut was a twisted mess.  The Colt felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as it slowly swung in my hand.

When I reached the door I looked in, and I knew I had to act.  My dad’s face was starting to get the splotches common to Trippers, and he was breathing quickly.  In another few hours, he was going to get up on his own and go looking for people to kill.

I walked over to him and had a moment’s hesitation as to where I should put the gun. I realized I couldn’t shoot him in the head.  As much as I knew it would kill him instantly, I couldn’t do it.  I decided on the next best thing.  I knelt on the bed, next to my father, and placed the muzzle of the Colt over his heart.  I pulled the hammer back, and the four clicks were the loudest things I had ever heard.

“Good bye, Dad. I love you,”  I said. I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger.

My father jerked from the impact, and I nearly dropped the gun.  But I cocked the hammer back and waited to see if I needed to do it again.

As it turned out, my father was dead.  His face was relaxed, and he looked more at peace than I had seen him in several days.  I slid off the bed, uncocked the gun, then went to the bathroom to throw up.

I knew the job wasn’t finished, because I couldn’t just leave him there in the bed to rot.  After I cleaned myself up, I went back into the bedroom and flipped the quilt he was lying on over his body.  I flipped the other side over him and grabbed the blanket up by his shoulders.  I pulled, heaved, and cursed as I levered his body off the bed.  My dad fell with a huge thump that shook the house, and it was then I realized just how heavy the man really was.  The craziest thought I had just then was how dangerous a Tripper he would have made.

I pulled him away from the bed, dragging him across the floor.  I took a glance at the bed, expecting to see a hole and a lot of blood.  I was surprised to see nothing.  I guess the bullet didn’t make it out of his body.

I got my dad’s corpse out of the house, and the only trouble I had was when he got away from me on the stairs and thumped down to the landing.  Other than that, it was just a heavy drag out into the side yard.  By the time I reached the bed of hostas, I was exhausted.  But I still had work to do, so after I took a quick drink, I got the shovel out of the garage and started digging.

It was late afternoon by the time I had finished.  The grave wasn’t all that deep, but it would have to do.  I didn’t think Dad would mind much; he probably would have appreciated the effort.  I rolled his body into the grave, never bothering to take another look at him. I didn’t want to have any more memories of his death than I already had, and I felt in some way it was my fault.  If I had gone when he said to, if I hadn’t been so far away when the Trippers attacked that house, I might have been able to buy him some time—something.

I cried again as I filled the grave, mounding the dirt slightly, and putting the hostas back where I had dug them up.  They would look after him like they did everything.

I turned to put the shovel away and bumped into my mother.

“Jeez, mom!  You scared me.  How long have you been there?” I asked.

Mom just stared past me at the grave.  She was holding a small handful of flowers, and without a word, she walked past and knelt down next to the grave.  I wanted to comfort her, but I didn’t know what to say.  Nothing my dad ever taught me prepared me for this.

I put the shovel away, and I walked back to the house.  I couldn’t shake the feeling I was going to have to do more grave digging—and soon.

Chapter 23

Of all the chores I had, without a doubt the one I hated the most was removing bodies.  It was slow, heavy, and smelly. I couldn’t do it on my own; I just wasn’t strong enough.  But I wondered if any twelve-year-old would have been strong enough.

Fortunately, Trey was willing to help me if I was willing to help him.  He was smaller than I was and even less likely to be able to move some of the bodies, so we had to work together.  Especially since the last wave gave us about an even hundred bodies to get rid of.

Trey’s dad was setting up the burn pile, so he was unable to give us a hand.  My mother had withdrawn into herself for the last two days after my father died, so she was out of it.  Trey had a younger sister, but she would have been a nuisance under the best circumstances, so here we were. Trey’s older siblings were helping his dad.

“You got it?” Trey asked, readying the wagon.

“I got it. Get that thing over here; this one looks like it’s leaking,” I said, holding the arms of a dead woman.  Her eyes had rolled up in her head, giving her a nasty appearance.  The small round hole in her forehead didn’t improve her looks.

“Ew.”

“Exactly.”

I pulled the body forward, doubling it over its waist. Trey tipped the wagon so the leading edge was on the ground.  We both then took an arm and tipped the wagon back, ending up with a Tripper neatly riding a four wheeled cart.  We then pulled it down to where Trey’s dad was building a pyre. 

It was a squat affair with several large logs forming a kind of hut.  Trey’s dad was finished with the base and was putting dead Trippers all over the logs.

“Drop the next bunch on the other side, boys; this side’s full,” he said, pulling up an older Tripper and placing him on the pile.  Trey’s dad would pile the bodies up around the structure, then put more logs on top, then more bodies.  Hopefully he wouldn’t have to go higher than two levels, but once we had to go as high as four.  The logs were soaked with kerosene, and once lit, the blaze was going to be fierce.  But it had to be done, and since we didn’t use kerosene for anything other than lamps, we had enough to spare.

Towards the end of the day, we finally managed to get the last of the Trippers up onto the pyre.  Trey’s dad had set up a system where he could ignite the pyre from a distance.  It wasn’t anything fancy, just Trey’s crossbow firing a flaming arrow into the heart of the structure.  After that it was just a lot of burn time.

Evening came, and Trey and his father went back to their home for supper.  We weren’t going to light it at night unless we wanted to attract every Tripper for miles.  The wave had moved on, but that didn’t mean we were fully safe from them coming back.

I met my mother in the kitchen, which surprised me.  She had holed herself up in the spare bedroom upstairs, and the last time I saw her she was just looking out the window at my father’s grave.

“Hey, Mom!” I said, trying to sound somewhat cheerful.  It was strained, and we both knew it. The gloom of my father’s death hung over us like something unsaid.

“Hey, Josh.  Looks like you’ve been working hard.  Wash up, and we’ll have supper,” she said. 

“Sure.  Be right back.”  I went to the back room and quickly washed my hands, noting the level of water and making a note to head to the creek tomorrow for more.

At supper, we didn’t have much to say, and I saw how thin and frail my mom looked.  If we had another wave of Trippers come through, I wasn’t sure how she would make it.

I had just finished eating when my mother spoke. 

“Josh?  I wanted to talk to you about something,”  she said, clearing the table.

“What about?”

“I think we should leave the house.”

I was surprised, but at the same time, not really.  I had been expecting something like this.

“Why?  Where would we go?” I asked.

“One of the larger communities where its safe. This isn’t safe anymore,” she said.

“What’s not safe?  We have the wall; we have the water.  The last wave didn’t get us, and neither did the one before that,” I said.  I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to leave my home and everything I knew.

“What about next time, Josh?  And the time after that?  Your father died…”

I didn’t let her finish.  “Dad died away from here.  If we had stayed here, we’d have been fine.”

“That’s true, sweetheart, but he’s gone, and we can’t get him back.” Mom looked down, and when she looked back up there were tears in her eyes.  “Please, Josh.  I don’t want to lose you, too.  Let’s get out of here and go where there’s other people; where you have a chance at a future and not just survival.”

I gave it a thought.  “Not right now, mom.  I can’t go right now.  I don’t think Dad would have wanted me to just up and leave.”

Mom shook her head.  “He wouldn’t have wanted you to hold on to something that wasn’t there, either.”

I had nothing to say to that, so I just left the table and went upstairs with my mom calling after me.