The Dead Divide Us (Book 1) (22 page)

“God damn, this Jack is great!” Robert then blurted out, on impulse.

Never before did bourbon taste so damn good to him. He couldn’t figure it out. It was as if he’d been given extra senses of smell, taste, and touch. The smell of the empty liquor bottle still had such an incredible pungent aroma. It was heavenly. He was so engulfed with the liquor’s taste that he didn’t notice just how much of his own blood he was sitting in. His vintage brown tweed couch was soaking wet from his open wounds.

“I gotta have another bottle around here somewhere.” Robert said to himself. His head was incredibly buzzed, light and loopy.

But when he began to reach across to the small liquor cabinet next to the couch, an instant migraine headache plagued him. It literally sent him flying back on the couch. It was a deep drilling pain, inside the very center of his brain. A high pitched ringing filled his ears and his vision became spotty. He began to see everything in dark red colors.

Robert suddenly and uncontrollably let out a ghastly moan, and then stopped himself midway. He was shocked at this noise he had just made, he had heard it before. He had heard Carl Riggins make the same moaning sound. He had been hearing that horrible sound all day.

The cry of the diseased, the call of the infected.

As the intense migraine sharpened itself to paralyzing status, Robert shit himself and vomited at the same time. He stood up quickly, trying to reach the bathroom, but he instantly fell to the floor. He laid there wanting to cry and begging to die, but the pain burning inside his head prohibited anything but shear shock.

Then the worst of the disease came to him. The final stage of his transformation took hold.

The hunger.

The hunger for human flesh hit him like a freight-train doing sixty.

At this point Robert could no longer think for himself.

At this point Robert’s only need was that of finding warm human flesh to eat.

At this point Robert Landry was dead or
gone away
; he was now one of the mindless infected and diseased.

5

The staggering body of Robert Landry made its way out of its former apartment building and out onto the dark streets of Colton. The naked fat man was on the street and at first he was excited at the sight of Robert but then calmed down and turned away, he was no longer interested in eating Robert’s flesh.

Robert’s body stood still on the street outside for quite some time. It staggered back and forth for almost ten whole minutes; moaning occasionally. The cold snow and harsh winds meant nothing. The need for living human flesh still plagued Robert’s now overdriven body. Instinctively, not really knowing why, his body began to shift its way in the direction of the Colton Fire Company. Also, for some unknown reason, the naked fat man and six other infected people started to follow Robert’s body in that same direction. Walking past other poor infected bastards, Robert’s body seemed to somehow grab their attention. Sure Robert shambled and stumbled forward, just as any other of the diseased victims, but there was something else there. Some kind of raw instinct or passion, something possibly prehistoric in nature. Perhaps it was something leftover from the earliest man, something hidden deep inside the very core of our brains and maybe even our souls.

Robert’s body had distinct purpose. And it was something that could only be sensed.

Nighttime meant nothing to Robert’s body and also nothing to the now large crowd of infected townspeople. A diseased young couple, which presumably died of infection while in their car, had fallen out of their station wagon and began to follow Robert’s body. Three infected men in business suits, who were known locally as the Brubaker Brothers that ran Brubaker Law Offices of Colton, all suddenly stopped feasting on two teenagers and began to follow Robert’s body as well. An elder lady who had never thought it quite necessary to own a television or radio and had gotten herself bitten on the wrist when she went out that morning to greet her paperboy (it was her paperboy who had bit her), also stumbled down the front porch of her small home on main street Colton and began to follow Robert’s body.

Snow was still falling, but the storm had eased off quite a bit. Only a steady and light stream of snow continued to fall on the dead town of Colton, Pennsylvania. All of the street lights were out, making the town pitch black, but Robert’s body still knew the exact direction that it was headed. By the time Robert’s body had reached the Fire Company, a small militia of some two dozen infected people followed behind him.

Robert’s body suddenly stopped in its tracks. The crowd of sick people right behind him stopped too, many various moans were let out. His head let loose and his dead gaze fell down upon the slain body of Jan Goodman. He still lay in the snow in front of the door to the Fire Company; face down, with bullet holes throughout his chest and face. Robert’s body was oddly content on staring down at Jan Goodman.

“Hey man, I told you I heard something.” said a scared voice from behind the door of the Fire Company.

“Shut up, don’t draw any more attention to us then!” a different voice said.

Robert’s body lifted its head up and began to move toward the door.

“I gotta have a look outside. It's prolly just a random sick fuck.” the first voice said.

“Don’t be a fuckin' dickhead! Git over here and don’t open dat door!” the other voice said.

As the man behind the door unwisely unlocked and opened it, Robert and twenty-four of his fellow infected townspeople pushed their way in.

The man that was talking behind the door, the one who opened it, was a young man in army fatigues with red hair and a freckled face. He was the same person who had shot the uninfected Jan Goodman. The young man, who now saw many infected shadowy silhouettes rushing toward him, screamed out loud in fear and put a few bullet holes into Robert’s stomach. Robert’s body didn’t feel a thing; it just lunged forward and sunk its teeth into the young man’s forehead. Biting down hard and pulling back, Robert ripped the young man’s face clean off of his skull. The young man was then over taken by the Brubaker Brothers and the fat naked man, Robert’s body stepped aside and out into the middle of the seemingly empty fire hall.

If Robert had been uninfected and fully conscious, he most likely would never have been able to fully comprehend the very next thing his body witnessed.

In the corner of the fire hall, where a few lamplights were shining, a muscular, tattoo covered and very off-putting bald man was quickly trying to pull his pants up. Bending over in front of him, with her mouth gagged and both feet and hands tied down, was Jan’s wife Fran Goodman. She was being raped. Off to the side, not far away, were both of Jan’s daughters, Susie and Carol. They were tied up too; presumably made to watch.

“I’ll fix you fuckers! I’ll just git ma gun!” The bald man said, latching the belt of his prison-issued pants. But it was too late, Robert’s hoard of infected were on him in no time flat. They devoured him and Fran Goodman, then quickly made their way over to devour Susie and Carol as well.

Fran Goodman was finally welcoming the sweet release of death. The nightmare of that day, to her, was far more severe than it had been to Robert or Jan.

She and her daughters had been the last survivors of the Fire Company after Major Frost and his crew had retreated from town. Fran, with the help of the freckled young man, fended off the infected in hopes of Jan returning to them. They actually turned the Fire Company back into a stronghold having survived the initial swarm by hiding in a closet and waiting for the infected to seek out new victims. But when they welcomed in other survivors, they welcomed in the worst kind of people. The escaped convict, a known serial rapist, was one of the people they let into the fire company. The rest was, as you could imagine, horrible history.

If Robert had a conscious mind, he would have been glad that Jan was not able to see his wife and daughters like this. Then again, if Robert had a conscious mind, nothing at this point would have been able to keep him sane.

Leaving that mess behind, Robert’s body turned and exited the Fire Company. It walked out into the dark, snowy night past Jan’s body. He staggered a bit and then noticed the moon slightly peeking out from behind a few storm clouds. He stood there for a lengthy amount of time, simply gazing up at the moon. Then the body of Robert Landry began to move.

Not really knowing where he was going.

Not really knowing why, Robert’s body started out in a certain direction.

That direction was west.

Chapter 12: The Cabin

1

Paul Landry was running through the woods, running for his life. Branches and sticks snapped as he plowed through; leafs and small rocks kicked up behind him as he galloped forward. He wasn’t even sure exactly how long he had been on the run. His heartbeat was dangerously fast, the simple act of oxygen intake was becoming a problem. In the faded moonlight, Paul realized he was a filthy mess. Dirt, mud, and grass covered nearly his entire body. Behind him he heard the approaching sound of death. There were so many of
them
now, the sounds alone were driving him mad. Deep in the dark woods, Paul Landry was being chased down and his sanity was fleeting. Paul looked down and realized that somehow along the way he must have lost both of his shoes. It didn’t surprise him a lot because this seemed like the final bout of his life. He was going to lose more than his shoes for sure and had already lost
much
more than that.

What had to be fifty infected people had somehow tracked him down and broke into the cabin. They had ripped the life from both of his sons. Ruth had died while trying to pull little Shawn away from the ravenous pact. Roy Benton, who came running in from the back room, tried to defend his family as best he could. More of the infected started to pour in through the windows, breaking them all with loud sounds of shattering glass, and falling inward at an alarming rate. They devoured Roy’s wife Kirsten and their girl Alexis. Roy had managed to kill a whole slew of them, but he finally succumbed to the incredible numbers. Roy died while clearing a path for Paul, his throat was ripped clean out and his blood sprayed the entire west wall inside the cabin. Paul was then able to escape while the infected ate away his family and close friends. He had been on the run for his life ever since.

But why? Why bother?

It seemed like so long ago. Long ago Paul watched his family die a gruesome death. In the end the Landry’s and the Benton’s would befall the same fate as the town they abandoned. Green Falls was no doubt now a playground for the dead; as was the cabin in the mountains.

There is no escaping death. Your only fate is to suddenly cease.

But there was something, or someone on Paul’s mind. Out there in the cold dark woods, Paul knew his time was up. He was going to die. But there was someone in the cabin with them that horrible night. Someone that Paul had trouble thinking about let alone reasoning why or how it could be possible.

The moaning sounds grew nearer and Paul laid down on the dirty ground, waiting for the infected to tear him apart. He wondered why he even ran away at all. His mind drifted back to the phantom in the cabin.

The first infected person to break down the cabin’s door that night was Robert Landry. A sickly, twisted and diseased version of Paul’s younger brother had seemingly led a hoard of the infected to the secluded and off the map cabin. What puzzled Paul the most was that Robert could have had no idea where the cabin even was. He had never been there; Paul had only talked about it to Robert. Rob had never even seen a picture of the place.

Paul heard footsteps brushing through the surrounding leaves. He lifted up his head and watched one solitary person stumble into view. His brother Robert Landry came falling down onto him. Robert landed directly on top of him, knocking the wind out of his pipes. Robert wasted no time at all and before Paul could scream his brother’s name, Rob dug his teeth into Paul’s forehead. He dragged them down along Paul’s face, peeling the skin back to expose blood and bone.

2

Paul Landry woke up screaming. His skin was cool and clammy. The brisk mountain air was busily at work, trying to cool off his steamy head.

“Honey? Are you okay?” his wife Ruth asked him.

Paul sat up in the Adirondack chair that he had been napping in. It was an unnaturally warm afternoon, but still chilly enough when the breeze blew. The sky was clear and a winter sun hung up there brightly. Only a few clouds danced around playfully in the wide open canvas of blue.

“Was it the same dream?” Ruth asked.

Paul wiped the sweat from his forehead. His face still felt like it was just bitten and scratched up horribly. He could actually still feel the wet, thick blood on his face; an invisible blood leftover from a dark dream. He shook his head, trying to free himself from that awful feeling.

“Yeah, worst one yet.” he said.

In the open area in front of the cabin Eddie and Shawn were throwing a small Nerf football around. Alexis sat on a rock next to them drawing in her notebook. She was facing Paul but still paying attention to the boy’s game as well.

“You awake from your nap, sleepyhead?” Roy Benton said, as he walked out onto the cabin’s wide front porch. He had three cups of hot chocolate in his hand; he gave Ruth and Paul each one. Kirsten then followed, with her own cup of the good stuff.

“Yeah I’m awake.” Paul said, uneasily. He tasted his hot chocolate, it was good and sweet. It took his mind away from his nightmarish worries, but only for a few seconds. Paul never thought in a million years that he would have the luxury of drinking hot chocolate at the end of the world. Paul had failed to comprehend that Roy’s family cabin had been outfitted with a secret back room that they had seasonally stocked and constantly locked. It was mostly just for dry goods and extras (canned fruit, powered milk, crackers and wafers, tea/hot chocolate mixes, first aid equipment, distilling kit) which was a miraculous surprise to Paul and Ruth. Roy had seemed to forget about the secret stock pile as well, and who could blame him with all the confusion that comes along with a dying world.

Roy and his wife sat next to Paul and Ruth.

“This weather is unbelievable.” Kirsten said.

“Don’t think we’ve lucked out yet, it only just turned February yesterday.” Roy added.

“Two weeks.” Ruth said, with a tear falling down onto her lap.

It was true. They had left Green Falls in a maddening hurry only two weeks prior. Since then, they had been peacefully perched high upon the mountain side. The road leading up to the cabin was a rough one; there were many spots toward the top that could easily cause even larger vehicles to bottom out. But the large family van did well with Roy at the wheel.

Leaving Green Falls actually turned out to be a lot easier than expected. News of Sheriff Baxter’s death at Gus’s Hardware had traveled back to Paul’s neighborhood even before they did; along with the fact that the Sheriff had shot first, nearly blasting away little Shawn’s face. So when Roy pulled his vehicle to a screeching halt in front of his home and Paul raced out with Shawn in his arms (bloody-faced and screaming), the townsfolk of Green Falls had already partially accepted that Roy and Paul were no longer there for them.

If the Sheriff of Green Falls had fallen ill and changed to a creature who would behave in such a crass and unemotional display of barbarism, then what hope would they have of keeping an honest leader like Roy Benton around? Just like Roy had said to everyone at Gus’s; it was time to fend for themselves. And now everyone knew it.

Ruth first screamed at the sight of Shawn’s injury and the copious amounts of blood. His left ear was a tattered mess of flesh. Ruth and Kirsten cleaned and patched up Shawn’s ear quickly, then made him take a few aspirin for the pain. The ear would be able to heal on its own; it would have to, because they then left Green Falls for good.

When their van excited the garage, with most of the neighborhood watching, not one person came running, not one person bombarded them, not one person truly thought they could do anything to make them stay.

As they neared the street, Glen Fry did approach the van. Roy rolled down his window, expecting to hearing a mouthful.

Glen said very slowly, “Sorry to hear about Shawn’s ear. Good luck out there. If yous guys run into trouble, come on back here. This place is as much yours as it is ours.” then he walked away, not giving Roy or Paul a chance to respond.

Roy exited his driveway and drove out of town. He kept to the back roads mainly. One army truck had stopped them along the way, but before they could ask too many questions they were called away to help out another squad that was in some kind of trouble.

An hour and a half after leaving Green Falls, they had reached their destination. The cabin in the woods and that is where they had been ever since.

“Dad, come throw football with us!” Eddie yelled out. Shawn looked at him too, giving him a slight smile.

“Your daddy is still tired, maybe later ok?” Ruth said. She knew that Paul’s vivid nightmares were really taking their toll on him. She was very worried about her husband. They all were worried about him.

Roy stood up and stretched.

“Well, I do think that we should try and shoot us a deer today. You think you have enough strength to follow me around the perimeter?” Roy said.

“I think he just wants to rest…” Ruth began.

“I’ll go with. I’m fine.” Paul said, rather loudly, like he had forgotten how to control the volume of his voice.

So far during the two weeks, Roy had only been able to kill a few squirrels and a solitary rabbit; neither of which hadn’t tasted that bad to them at all really. They just made sure to cook everything extra long, not taking any chances with that disease floating around. They were eating a lot of canned food though. Ruth was mainly in charge of rationing the supplies and was doing a pretty good job at it too. Still though, they had only enough food to last them another two or three weeks. Shooting any kind of wild animal was only going to help them at this point.

“Alright, we’ll have to walk the stream path. Make sure nothing fresh died in it overnight.” Roy said.

“Not a problem, let me just get my gun.” Paul said.

Ruth looked over at Roy and he looked down at his wife Kirsten, all three of them were worried.

“No need for that I think Paul. I’ve got my rifle and handgun. We’ll be fine.” Roy said, still sounding confident.

Paul knew they didn’t want him handling any guns right now. The whole ‘stressed out with paranoid dreams of horror’ look didn’t exactly support the thought of Paul using firearms. Paul understood and didn’t argue, even though he was very angry on the inside.

Paul walked off the front porch, without saying a word. He approached the children playing.

“Shawn, come over here a second.” Paul said as he knelt down.

Shawn tossed the football back to his older brother and walked over to his dad. Alexis watched them intently as she still drew in her notebook.

Paul looked his youngest son in the eyes, and then he looked at the clean bandage around his left ear.

“How is the hearing today son?”

“It’s a little better since the ringing stopped.”

Paul slowly brought Shawn in close for a tight hug. Ruth watched from the porch, intrigued. The bond between Paul and their youngest child had grown lately, since the incident at Gus’s, and even with Paul’s newfound distraught attitude.

“I’m sorry this happened to you.” Paul told his son.

“It's ok daddy, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“You know, what I did at Gus’s. That man, he…”

“You had to kill him. I know. We all know. Can I come with you and Roy?” Shawn said.

Yeah, can we?” Eddie shouted in excitement.

Roy walked off the porch, now sporting his hunting rifle. He also had an old axe, an axe as old at the cabin itself. The amount of wood that old tool had chopped was incalculable. It had belonged to Roy’s Grandfather.

“No kids, you stay behind and help keep watch over the cabin. I think Ruth and Kirsten have some chores for you to keep up with.” Roy said as he handed Paul the axe.

“We might as well chop some more firewood while we’re out there.” Roy said.

“Are we getting low already?” Paul asked.

“No, we’ve still got plenty. But it wouldn’t hurt to bring back another load to keep under the porch.”

“Daddy?” Alexis then asked; she was now standing right next to them.

“Yeah, honey?”

“I’m going to go help Mommy and Ruth make the stew for tonight.” Alexis said to her father, and then she turned to Paul and spoke.

“Here, I made this for you.”

Alexis handed Paul the picture she had been drawing most of that afternoon. She had drawn a very accurate depiction of him. In the drawing he was clean shaven and happy, standing by a big and bright sun. Most importantly, she depicted Paul as happy.

“Um, thanks Alexis. This is rather good.” Paul said, awkwardly.

“You’re welcome.” Alexis then ran away, up the porch and into the cabin.

Paul looked at the drawing again, the person that Alexis drew was no longer him. But it had been him at one point, not long ago.

A child was trying to tell him how simple it can be. Just smile. But he couldn’t.

There was a time when Paul Landry could smile, back when he was able to sleep without night terrors, back when he slept in a warm bed with his wife, back when the days passed by carelessly, back when the world was whole.

3

Paul knew that Roy wanted to strike up a specific conversation. Paul’s melancholy addiction was spreading throughout the families. Roy was the kind of the guy who would rather talk out differences and settle conflicts before they began. In normal times, Paul felt the same way. But Paul wasn’t even sure who he was anymore.