Kellie's Diary: Decay of Innocence (15 page)

Howard spoke up.  “We drove up from East Austin, and we’re heading north to get away from the city.  Maybe those things won’t be around where we’re headed.”

“Where you heading to?” Harry asked.

“No idea,” Jack answered.  “Just getting the hell away from here.”

That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.
  “Well, thank you for taking us with you.  I don’t think we’d have made it out alive.”

Rita leaned back against the seat.  “No sense in leaving people behind, seeing as there’s not a lot of us around at the moment.”

Lydia crawled out of Sarah’s lap and sat next to her.  “I’m tired,” she said.  “Where’s Mommy and Daddy?”

Sarah’s heart sank as she looked at her.  “I don’t know, Lydia.  We’ll try to find them, okay?”

Lydia nodded and laid down on the empty seat, curling up against Sarah.

Sarah choked up a little, but kept her composure – this poor girl was clinging to her in more ways than one, and she kept seeing Stacy in her.  It would be irresponsible of her to just leave Lydia somewhere on the dim hope that her parents would show up randomly.  Lydia was utterly alone and scared out of her mind… just like her.

“I’ll take care of you until then.” Sarah said, placing a protective hand on Lydia’s shoulder.  “I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note

Dr. Crane

             
Degraded.  Sick.  Twisted.  Screwed in the head.  However you word it, Dr. Crane is undoubtedly the most despicable character in “Kellie's Diary.”

             
We've written this piece centered around the child psychiatrist that Kellie ran into during Part 2, and this proved to be an interesting exercise in the development of a truly evil person.

             
Crane's insanity didn't begin with Kellie and it most definitely would not have stopped there either, if fate hadn't intervened.  Crane is a man that feeds into his sick urges, and will do the most depraved things to satisfy the craving, even justifying his actions in the name of his science.  It is a dangerous thing to have such a personality seated in a position where he is supposed to be helping others: the ultimate betrayal.

-------DR. CRANE-------

             
The drive for survival was both fascinating and, at times, disheartening.  Dr. Lloyd Crane realized long ago the fate of the human species was on its last legs, but as a student of the mind he knew there was something latent inside the brains of survivors, creating the drive to carry on.  He was uncertain if it was natural selection or just an evolved gene in the line.  He himself had no desire to die, but he was amazed at the lengths some folks would go to prevent the inevitable.  People face futility at varying levels, but some were so blind to it that they’d attempt to save someone that was beyond gone.

Last month, Rob, one of the guards of the fortified trailer park community, had been bitten ferociously during a zombie breach.  When all was said and done, half of the flesh from his arm was gone, and the hapless surgeon was unable to do anything about it.  Crane knew it, as well as everyone – once bitten, it was over.  Why she had bothered dressing his wound made no sense to him; Rob would have been better off with a bullet to the skull, if they were truly concerned for his welfare.

Crane stretched and sniffed the air: stale with a hint of death, the same as every other morning, the same scent everyone else described.  Frightening as it was, Crane couldn’t help his enthrallment with the scenery.  The undead denizens provided a grotesque sense of “life,” while the decayed civilization provided a macabre backdrop for the new world.  There was an unsettling beauty to it – nothing but raw instinct guided the majority, while the surviving minority struggled to learn the new rules.  It was one of humanity’s follies – failing to adapt – that had prevented any further evolution for the last few hundred years, and it seemed nature took the necessary steps to push the cycle onward through this deathly cleansing.  Those that were left, he figured, carried the necessary traits to continue the species forward.

Outside he heard some of the children running around, presumably to the schoolhouse.  He stepped outside and discovered he was right, as about a dozen of the town’s kids ran into the makeshift school room.  He had to hand it to the leaders of the town for at least attempting to keep even minor societal structures in place – though he knew it was only a matter of time, like he’d seen in other groups he’d encountered.  The two men who ran the place actually agreed on some things, but the general instability of their relationship was disconcerting to everyone who witnessed their outbursts.

He had offered his expertise multiple times, but they simply brushed him off and continued their bickering.  Not that it was much concern to him, as his specialty was in child psychology; he’d found an ally with the designated teacher, who would sometimes refer an unruly child to him so he could straighten them out.

They were an eclectic variety: a ten-year old boy with aggressive traits that mirrored those of his father; a five-year-old girl that was well-behaved but unusually silent; a nine-year-old boy that was more a follower than a leader; among others.  The unlimited potential of children is what drew Crane to the profession – their spirit, desires and energy provided no end of intrigue for him, and he had made it his purpose for the last fifteen years to fully understand the limits of the human psyche in its most pure form.  Though as children grew up they inevitably became increasingly jaded, suspicious, and less willing to experience life.  No matter what treatment he’d ever prescribed to an adult, they eventually crumbled – as a result, he had little interest in stereotypically adult conversation, and kept very few friends prior to the world crumbling.

He usually spent several hours walking around in quiet observation of the others.  In some ways, things hadn’t changed much: arguments boiled and fizzled; parents disciplined their kids; those in power debating the best for the group, and sometimes themselves.  It was as if they were unaware that anything had changed, like they were trying to ignore the fact that the dead were walking and their lives were in constant danger: the denial of environmental changes.  A person so rarely faced true reality, that when confronted with it, they either crumbled or they avoided – acceptance was a rare feat, which only the truly strong could handle.  This world was now turned not so much upside-down, but inside-out, a grotesque mockery of what was once civilization.  Crane realized this early on, and it was his hope that future generations would be ready for it; it was simply a shame that his former associates didn’t share the same viewpoint.

***

Early morning was normally abuzz as the community gathered for daily food rations, but the mood quickly shifted when Gina, a short woman in her mid-thirties, cried out in panic while speaking to the schoolteacher.  Crane looked on in curiosity.

“What do you mean they didn’t show up?!” Gina cried.  “Where did they go?”

“I haven’t seen them,” the teacher explained, “so I thought maybe you just kept them home.”

“Oh my god!” Gina continued, “What if they ran off, or tried to go outside that fence?  Gilbert is always doing something dangerous like that, and Jamie always follows him!”

Crane approached her.  “I know they are safe, you must be patient and remain calm.”  Time and again he has had to sympathize with parents of a lost child, and it was the same every time – complete, utter panic and wasted energy better spent on being constructive.

“How do
you
know?” Gina asked angrily, tears streaming down her face.  “Did you see them run off somewhere?”

“No ma’am,” Crane said plainly.  “I just don’t think they’d have gotten very far in only a few hours.”

Powell, a large, well-built man walked up to Gina and gave her a quick hug.  He was her husband, the children’s father and one of the perimeter guards.  He sneered at Crane, “Listen doc, no amount of group therapy is going to find our kids right now, we need to take action.”

“Yes, but being in hysterics will only make things more frantic,” Crane replied calmly.

Powell rolled his eyes and turned to his wife, “I’m going to get Dan and a few others and we’ll go look for them,” he said soothingly.  “I need you to stay here in case they come back before us.”

“Please find them,” Gina pleaded, gripping Powell tightly.

A handful of the others raised their voices in support, offering assistance to the outside search teams as well as searching the town.  Crane joined the group that was situated to the northwest section of town, right near the schoolhouse and subsequently his quarters.

Within seconds, the town was calling out to Jamie and Gilbert, all hoping for some sort of response.  Naturally, Crane began to hypothesize on the behavior he witnessed.  People throughout history had proven capable of coming together under a common cause, although it was mostly under bad or even dire circumstances.  It appeared to him that humans bonded better over misery than happiness, and this incident proved to be right in line with his concept.

***

Hours passed, and the town had not found any sign of Gilbert or Jamie.  Powell and his team had been patrolling the outside perimeter and surrounding wooded area, while a good percentage of the town had split into groups, covering every possible inch of the property.  Crane’s group had scoured every angle they could, and most of them were ready to throw up their hands in defeat.

As they searched, Crane’s mind wandered to the children’s previous situation.  They’d been sent to him a week earlier by the teacher, as they’d been argumentative with the class.  He spoke with them for some time, and they weren’t too keen on talking about their home life.  They didn’t show any obvious signs of abuse, though they’d appeared to have some mild attention difficulties due to their lack of interest in classes.  When he questioned Powell and Gina they brushed him off, attributing their children’s behavior to the “messed up world” they were in.  While a factor, the parents’ dismissive attitude made him suspect something a little more.

The group decided to check inside all the vehicles and housing in the area; the group scattered in various directions, and Crane lost track of who went where.  He glanced around for a minute, and then decided to check on his room.

He entered the front door and closed it behind him.  A small whimper emanated from behind a hanging sheet which served as a curtain; he pulled the sheet back and noticed the boy had stirred a little.  The girl, however, did not move.  Both of them were bound to chairs, gagged and blindfolded with scraps of cloth, their clothes and skin scratched up and filthy.  Crane removed the gag from the girl’s mouth but there was no gasp for breath, no struggle for freedom, no response at all.  Crane pressed two fingers against her neck for several seconds but there was no pulse.  Shaking his head in defeat, Crane approached the boy and removed the blindfold; he squinted at the sudden change of light, turning his head downward.  Crane knelt down next to him and studied his face, wondering what his next reaction would be once he noticed the other child.

After some time he looked up again and his eyes widened in shock; Crane remained motionless, curious as to what he’d say next.  His gaze never wavered, but Crane began to realize that the boy wasn’t staring at him – he was staring
behind
him.

Crane glanced behind him and realized that Victor, one of the perimeter guards, was standing in his doorway.  Victor was motionless, his mouth hanging slightly open and his eyebrows pursed in confusion.  Slowly Crane began to stand up, but Victor retrieved his handgun and aimed with pinpoint accuracy; Crane could almost feel the barrel against his head even though he was several feet away.

“What the hell?!” Victor said in complete shock.  “What are they doing in here?”

“You don’t understand,” Crane replied, “I’m trying to help them.”

Victor blinked with a deeply disturbed expression.  “Are you nuts?  These kids are tied up!  What did you do to them!?” he screamed, approaching Crane closer with the gun still trained on-target.

Crane put his hands up defensively; the hammer of Victor’s gun clicked.

“No, this is fucked up, man,” Victor muttered.  He backed up and leaned his head out the front door: “Dan, I found them!  Get over here now!”

Crane knew he had to act fast or this goon would jeopardize everything he was working on.  While Victor was distracted, Crane picked up a nearby scalpel, lunged at his intruder and pierced deeply into the side of Victor’s neck.  Victor’s grip on the weapon loosened, which Crane took advantage up by removing it from his grasp as the victim struggle to breathe.  Victor lost blood immediately from the strike, but he still attempted to call out to Dan; he started yelling but his voice turned to a shallow gurgle, as if the stab had severed his vocal chords.

Behind them, the boy let out a muffled whimper.

The noise was silenced completely as Crane shoved the blade into Victor’s neck three more times; Victor breathed one last time and collapsed at Crane’s feet.  As he slid the handgun inside his jacket pocket, he heard commotion gathering nearer to his home.  He knew he wouldn’t have time to defend himself, much less explain why the boy had suddenly perished without provocation, so he opted for the safe option of sneaking out the trailer window in the back.

Without a sound he crawled through the window and landed outside; he dodged toward the side of the trailer next to the wall, just out of sight of prying eyes.  Crane poked his head out around the corner and saw a few more people approaching his trailer.  He shook his head, knowing that he only had a short period of time to get as far away as possible.  When no more walked by, he sneaked behind the neighboring trailer just in time to hear the high-pitched wails of their mother’s despair, the angry roar of their father and the chorus of other voices arguing and yelling obscenities.

Crane finally realized it was time to go – permanently.  He was greatly outnumbered, and he knew what would happen once the mob mentality had taken hold: he wouldn’t stand a chance against them, and they would not listen to reason.  One by one he ran past the array of trailers, RVs, buses and other assortments of large vehicles.  He reached the closest gate, and noticing that no one was guarding it, he simply walked out the front door.  Outside, a variety of scavenging Jeeps were scattered around the perimeter.

Catching his breath for the moment, Crane looked around the perimeter for any of his pursuers; relieved, he took cover behind one of the Jeeps.  In the distance, he spied a few zombies approaching the property, and it wouldn’t be long before they reached his location.  He knew his time was limited, so he resorted to running away from the community, dodging the few zombies in his path.

***

The desert was quiet, serene, and thankfully chilly; had Crane taken on this journey during summer, he may not have made it even a few hours from the community.

It was truly a shame about the girl, but if she was unable to survive the ordeal there was little chance of survival in the world of the dead.  There was no more room for weakness these days; luckily the boy had proved he had the required drive to fight back, to withstand the brutality of the outside world.  He wasn’t completely ready though – with more time, he’d have been a true warrior.  The old rules, however, were gone.  Time was no longer something to be taken lightly: if people were to survive, they had to be pushed to their limit.