Fallen Grace (8 page)

“How’d you get here?” asked Linus.

“We were chased,” I explained. “By the dead.”

“Linus, are you ok to walk?” asked Gus. “We can come back for you if you want.”

“No, I’ll be ok.”

“What happened to Susan?” asked Agnes. “Is she ok?”

“She got banged up really bad by a Runner. To be honest we’re just hoping she pulls through,” sighed Gus.

“Where are you all headed next?” she asked him.

“Not too sure yet. I assume you came over the washed out bridge?”

“No. We came to a huge wreck. We walked over it.”

“That was before I twisted my ankle,” added Linus. Something about his words sounded scripted.

“We had to backtrack at that wreck,” I added. The only other road over here ended at a washed-out bridge. We had to cross on foot.”

Gus took over the conversation. “I imagine we’ll go back to the bridge and cross on foot again. There’s a Ford Excursion on the other side. It may come in handy.”

As we reached the pond we had crossed during the night, I took note that birds had stopped singing and the area was eerily quiet. Gus grabbed my hand and pulled me off of the roadway and into the surrounding marshy area. My feet were burning from wounds and the socks I wore offered little comfort. Linus and Agnes followed us, unquestioning as to why we were headed into mud and twigs and underbrush. I could sense something from Gus, but wasn’t quite sure what. We looked at each other at the same time, our eyes both full of unanswered questions.

I looked back to our companions, who were also holding hands now. Linus was limping and I was pretty certain he was trying to mask intense pain. He looked tired. Agnes didn’t look much better.

We reached the edge of the swamp, where we found our shed clothing. Gus and I silently picked up our own items before turning to the other two.

“We’ll explain later,” whispered Gus. “We came through the water last night. I suggest we find a way around for now.”

“No,” muttered Agnes. “Something’s wrong here. I don’t want to be here. Linus…” she begged her brother. For what, I wasn’t sure. Her tone was alarming enough to make the hairs on my arms stand on end. I had learned to listen to my own instincts, as well as those of others.

“I feel it too,” whispered Gus. I was already aware of that fact as his feelings wrapped themselves around my own on a level I seriously doubted two other humans had ever felt.

I wanted desperately to reach for Gus’ hand, but knew that it made more sense for us to take a stance where we could each watch a different direction. Something was coming

“There’s no sounds,” whispered Agnes as quietly as she could. “No birds. No squirrels. Nothing.”

We were weaponless, nearly clothes-less, and I sensed imminent danger. I desperately looked around for anything that might suffice as a weapon. The best I came up with was a fallen branch from a nearby holly tree. Gus followed suit. I nodded to Agnes and Linus, encouraging them to do the same. Agnes wore a look of pain on her face. Before I understood what was happening, Linus began making a guttural moan from deep in his chest.

“Linus, let go,” pleaded Agnes in a strained and panicked voice.

I studied Linus’ face. He was pale and looked off in indescribable ways. I tightened my grip on the branch I held as a familiar buzz began in my brain. A ripple traveled through the man’s body as he cracked his neck to one side. His free hand shuddered. In the silence of the area, I could hear the bones of Agnes’ hand creak.

“Fuck,” I moaned. “He’s turning.”

Agnes had dropped to her knees, her arm now twisted unnaturally. Tears streamed down her face and her eyes were clenched shut. The color had drained from her face.

I boldly ran toward the man-turning-living-dead and brought my branch up toward his face. I knew I only had a brief window of opportunity where he hung in balance on the fine line between his life as one of us and his life as a walking dead man. I jammed the sharp end of the stick into his face. I had figured it would pierce him easily, but instead it bounced off of the bony structures beneath his skin. His glasses were knocked off, falling to the ground. Gus was already beside me, and kicked Linus until he fell to the ground. The turning man still clutched his sister’s hand, and the movement caused her to shriek in agony. Gus rushed forward and stepped on the man’s chest. He held a large stone in his hands and brought it down on Linus’ head. Fresh crimson poured from the resulting wound. The man sputtered as blood flowed from his mouth and nose. Gus repeated the blow two more times until scalp, skull, and brain matter were mixed in a fashion where nothing left was recognizable.

I walked to where Agnes’ hand was still held in a death grip and pried it from her brother’s. She whimpered pathetically from the pain of both her injury and the loss of her twin. Eventually, she vomited violently next to the remains of his head.

Standing over Linus’ fallen body, Gus tried to slow his breathing.

“Fuck!” he shouted. “What the fuck!”

He looked like he wanted to kick the body, but had no shoes on with which to do it. I looked at the girl who was still on the ground, now crouched near her brother’s feet. She was sobbing and looked scared.

“Agnes, what happened?” I asked, still shocked. “What happened? It was more than a sprained ankle, wasn’t it?”

Gus was already pulling the shoe off of Linus’ injured foot. Agnes was unable to speak, but nodded.

“Holy shit,” expressed Gus. “Holy fucking shit! He was fucking bit, wasn’t he Agnes? You tell me the truth and you tell me right now,” he ordered her, as if speaking to a child.

“One…of…them…” she sobbed, trying to catch her breath. “When we… climbed …over…the…wreck.”

“Gus, settle down,” I said under my breath. The poor girl was scared and obviously traumatized.

“No, Zoe. They should have told us.” Gus’ eyes were dark and full of anger. “They put us both in danger. I will not settle down.”

He took a few steps away from us and took a deep breath before turning back. His face was full of rage.

“Jesus Christ, Agnes! What the fuck were you thinking!” he screamed.

“I…I…I” she stammered.

“Answer me, Goddamnit!”

“Gus, stop!” I shouted, getting angry with him. “Just stop!”

He ran his fingers through his hair and ended up looking half wild. He walked away several feet to cool down again. I heard him mumble a few obscenities.

I walked to Agnes and knelt down on the ground with her.

“Zoe, it didn’t break his skin. I swear it didn’t. It bit onto his shoe and barely made marks on his ankle. I didn’t think…” she broke down sobbing.

“Ok, ok…” I tried to soothe her.

“Take me away from here, please,” she begged. “Oh God…Linus…”

Gus walked back over to us, very obviously still pissed off. “Agnes,” he began to say, his tone just a bit too threatening. “Agnes,” he said more calmly. “I’m sorry I yelled. I’m sorry about Linus. You have to understand, though, that if any of us comes into contact with one of those fucking dead bastards we all have a responsibility to inform the others. There’s no other way to put it.”

Agnes nodded while trying to calm her own crying.

Gus, seriously, chill out. I hoped he got my silent message loud and clear. I followed it with a glare of my eyes.

“Agnes, did you make contact with any of the dead?” I asked as gently as I could. “Any at all?”

“I only kicked the one that had hold of Linus’ foot,” she managed to say in a moan. She suddenly sounded so young; almost child-like.

“So help me, you better be telling us the truth,” spat Gus. “I will not tolerate anyone putting the rest of us in danger.”

Agnes nodded and I glared at Gus again. I could sense from him that his anger stemmed from me being put in danger in particular. It was an emotion as strong as jealousy, or perhaps love. I knew he loved me in his own way but I hadn’t stopped to consider he might actually be in love with me. I frowned for a moment before looking away.

“We need to go,” I said. “Susan needs us.”

I took hold of Agnes’ uninjured hand and helped her up off the ground.

“Let me say good-bye?” she begged.

“No,” I said to her. “You don’t want to see him like he is now.”

“I can’t live without him. I’ve never been without him,” she moaned again.

“All we can do is live,” said Gus under his breath. “Let’s go.”

***

It had taken us another half-hour to skirt the swamp and get back to the neighborhood from which we had fled the night before. The sun was now high in the sky and birds were once again twittering. Gus tried to reach for my hand as we left the trees, but I pulled away. I had hated how he treated poor Agnes. Instead, I took Agnes’ hand. She wasn’t crying anymore but she also wasn’t speaking. She had a glazed-over look of deep grief and despair.

We decided to walk up the middle of the street, hoping we were close to the car that we had left behind. Going through back yards would have given us more cover but taken far longer. The street we were currently walking was lined with cherry blossom trees that were just forming new buds. I had always loved how they looked; like pink or white fluffs of snow suspended in a cloud. I idly wondered which color these were. Nothing looked familiar, and with my terrible sense of direction I trusted that Gus knew which way to go. Home after home passed by and my feet were beyond uncomfortable. I could see blood staining my socks and knew they’d be a sore sight once I peeled the socks off.

“There it is,” I said, breathless from our quick pace.

“I see it. Agnes, we’re almost there.”

She didn’t respond, but rather just followed as if in a trance.

Soon we were at the car. I was glad to see the pathetic little thing, knowing it was temporary shelter from the dead, a means back to the rest of the group, and a break for my poor feet. I opened the back door for Agnes, and held a hand on her back to encourage her to get in. Gus slid into the driver’s seat as I shut Agnes’ door behind her. He opened my door for me from the inside. I jumped in and slammed my door closed.

“Strap in,” said Gus through a clenched jaw.

I looked back at Agnes, who just sat there unmoving. The car started, hesitantly, and as Gus began backing out I sensed the dead in the distance.

“I know,” he grumbled.

“I’ll buckle her in.”

I climbed between the cramped front seats, wincing as my feet worked to propel me into the backseat.

I reached across Agnes and pulled her belt across her chest and lap, fastening it securely. I remained in the back seat for convenience sake, and strapped myself in as Gus sped down the street.

“Other way,” I instructed as the dead in my mind became stronger. We were headed toward evil.

“Can you tell which direction?” Gus asked me.

“No, not exactly. Just…ahead.”

“How many?”

“A lot.”

“Ok.”

Agnes reached over and took hold of my hand. I looked at her. She still faced forward and just started at the back of the seat in front of her. I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Gus made a left hand turn, taking us down another residential street. The first of the dead appeared nearly a mile away in the driveway of the first two-story home that we came upon. The creature was more accurately a bit less than half of a creature. It lay on the uneven pavement of the driveway, near the garage door. It was so emaciated that there was no telling its gender or age pre-death. It consisted of a head, one arm, and half a chest that gaped where the other half had been torn, or eaten, away. It reached its single arm toward our car as we drove by.

I idly rubbed at my hip as a deep ache began. “Gus, they’re getting close.”

I wondered to myself where they had all come from. They hadn’t been near the day before. Gus turned the car to the right, into an older neighborhood that sported run down homes and yards full of older-style toys, campers covered in plastic tarps, and old vehicles that had all been in in some state of being repaired when the world had ended. As we continued straight more dead appeared to each side of us. They were walking slowly and seemingly aimlessly, all Roamers, and all badly decayed. I could feel their intense hunger and desire for our flesh in my mind. It was dizzying and nauseating. Agnes whimpered beside me as three of them got close enough to touch the car. Her hand gripped mine painfully.

Every night when I go out, the monkey's on the table! Take a stick and knock it off! Pop goes the weasel!

The nursery rhyme entered my head like a pound of bricks. They were waiting for us; more of the dead children. There was no giggling this time, just intense anticipation of our driving right into their little laps.

“Gus!” I screamed. “Turn around!”

Without hesitating, he slammed on the breaks. Tires squealed loudly and the car swerved into a semi-circle. Agnes kept her grip on my hand, and with my other I braced against my door. As the vehicle came to a stop, the Roamers were quickly gathering on all sides of us.

“Go, go, go, go go,” I chanted with urgency.

The dead children were angry that we had stopped progressing toward them. They hid in the shadows, suddenly livid that they would be forced into full daylight to pursue us. They thought the light was unsafe. The light hurt. I could feel their pain as it warmed their cold skin. Their hunger winning out, they continued toward us.

As Gus pressed on the gas pedal again, the engine sputtered to a halting stop as the engine died. Gus turned the key and pumped the gas pedal in desperation. The Roamers were pressing against the windows now, their bony fingers leaving streaks of gore behind. Dirtied, broken teeth gnashed toward us, hoping to sink into our flesh. Agnes began screaming and her finger nails dug into my palm.

“Shut up!” yelled Gus. “The noise will agitate them!”

I heard rare panic in his voice. As I stared out the front window, my breath caught in my chest when a little girl fell onto the hood of the car. Had she jumped or fallen from above? I had no clue. Her blonde hair was still in a ponytail, but it was streaked with dirt and blood and clumps were missing from her scalp. She wore a knitted sweater that was hanging in shreds. It might have been red or pink when it was new. Her legs were bare aside from a pair of underpants. She looked right at us as she began crawling toward the windshield. Her eyes were a dull gray and sunken. Her lips curled into an evil smile as she looked directly at me.

“All Around the Mulberry Bush,” she began singing, her smile never fading.

“Gus…”

The engine finally roared to life, albeit with a new knocking noise. As the car lurched forward, the dead girl tried to hang on. She soon rolled off, landing hard on the roadway.

***

As we drove, I uncurled Agnes’ fingers from my hand. She had finally stopped crying and sat quietly again.

“Agnes, I’m sorry I yelled,” sighed Gus from the driver’s seat.

She didn’t reply.

The engine continued to knock and sputtered.

I sensed what Gus was thinking. We’d have to run soon.

“The car’s about to break down. We’ll need to run,” I said to Agnes matter-of-factly and calmly.

“I know,” she said simply.

I turned in my seat to look behind us. The little girl who had fallen off the hood of the car was on all fours, crawling toward us with her body bent unnaturally. Her quick speed was abnormal. The Roamers followed her at a distance, their strides sluggish and uneven. One was knocked over by another and struggled to regain its footing as we drove on.

“What is that thing?” asked Agnes, her voice near hysteria. I knew she was referencing the child that was following us at an alarming speed.

“Evil,” muttered Gus.

The car turned to the left, onto a main street that was littered with strewn garbage. Bodies lay in the middle of the road, nearly decayed to the point of being unrecognizable as once human. Their clothing, saturated from the elements and also decomposing, was the biggest clue as to what they had once been. It was the most we had seen evidence-wise of a population having once been in this small town. The car died two blocks up.