The Dead Saga (Novella Part 2): Odium Origins (16 page)

There are times when I wish for the old days. For bills, and jobs, and too much TV. For fast food, sports cars, and thoughts about the ozone layer and how we can repair it.

Now we know that there was never any way to repair it. That it didn’t matter how high your cholesterol was in the end, because you would die a slow and agonizing death anyway. Or maybe you would go quickly. Regardless, you would die.

So what would I say if I could go back in time and speak to the old me? Or even the old you? I’d say this: Get fat—eat the food you love, because soon enough it will be gone; love freely, and hate with regret; drive fast, but be mindful of others on the road because one day in the not-so-distant future, you might need those people to save you.

I would tell you not to waste too much of your time pondering what to do with your life, and just enjoy the here and now as much as you can. Because before you know it, it will be too late. Doctor, lawyer, farmer, computer technician, police officer, delivery driver—in this world that I live in now, none of that matters. Who you were isn’t important anymore; it’s who you are now that is significant.

I look out across the ocean with a sigh; the waves gently caressing the pebbled beach, reminding me of happier times.

Mama?”

I turn to look at Lilly through the windshield of the car and offer her a small smile. Her little hands, as usual, are clasping her teddy bear with all their might. Her wide brown eyes stare back at me in confusion until at last recognition crosses her face and she seems satisfied with who I am, and that I am not far from her side. She knows that I am not her mother, but I am all she has now. She closes those brown pools of innocence again and snuggles back down into her car seat. She should know by now that I am never far from her side. She is mine, and I am hers. It has been this way since we found each other.

I slide off the hood of my car, take one last drag of my cigarette, and stub it out into the ground with a shake of my head. I swore I’d never smoke again. That’s another thing to add to the list: if you want to smoke, do it. But be aware that when they run out—the cigarettes—it’s a real bitch, and there’s no running to the store to get more.

I walk to the edge of the cliff to get a better view of down below. The sun is just setting over the ocean, creating a myriad of colorful beauty before my eyes. It’s easy to believe that everything is okay when I am up here. I can pretend there’s nothing to be afraid of—no boogeyman hiding under the bed, no evil in the world. Just Lilly, the ocean, and me.

I jump when Lilly’s hand clasps mine. Looking down into her sad face, I try to force a smile.

“You should be sleeping, my little Honey-Bee,” I say as I squeeze her little hand gently.

She continues to stare blankly at me until I reach down and pull her up into my arms. She doesn’t resist, but clings to me like a little koala bear. That thought makes me sadder still. She will never know what a koala bear is. They are all gone now, along with almost every other beautiful thing that once existed in this world. I stare up at the stars, my heart feeling heavier than usual. Damn, they look beautiful tonight. Like tiny diamonds sprinkled across a black canvas. Lilly’s hand tips my chin down so that I am looking at her again.

“Where are they?” she asks.

“Down there, Honey-Bee,” I say, pointing to down below.

She peers over as much as she dares, her tiny fingers digging into my skin as she watches the abominations below. I feel her little body shiver and tense in my arms.

“It’s okay. We are up here, and they are down there. We are safe,” I reassure her. “We have our light still.” I point to the streetlight, which inexplicably is still lit after all this time. It makes no sense, but I’ve given up trying to fathom it out. I’m just grateful it is.

“For now,” she whispers. Her words cut into my heart, and I nod.

“Yes. For now, for tonight. And that is what matters. Tonight we can dance under the stars, Honey-Bee.” I smile and twirl her around in circles, and she giggles. It is the sweetest sound I have heard in a long time—much better than the time we found the little gray kitten hiding under the burnt out car, crying out for its mother. And even better than the sound of the breeze moving through the long grass and flowers in the field that I found Lilly hiding in—though that is a very close second. My little Honey-Bee, hiding in the sunflower field. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, as if God had shone His light upon that particular field. In the middle of a world filled with so much loss—so much death—how could there possibly be so much beauty? Then I saw her little face, peering up at me surrounded by yellows, oranges, and greens of the sunflowers. She was like a gift to me. I was so close to losing it, and then she—Lilly—was there, her face a more beautiful canvas than the sunflower field.

We wept in each other’s arms that day, so happy to have found one another. Lilly and I dance until the sky further darkens and the stars seem to multiply, though she does not ever let me put her down. She grows heavy in my arms, and her eyelids begin to flutter closed again. I take her back to the car and place her in the little seat, clipping her in safely, being careful not to wake her up. I learned my lesson of not buckling her in when she sleeps and having to make a hasty retreat. She suffered a bump to her head that day, and I still feel guilty about it.

I light up another cigarette as I shut the door on her sleeping form, and go to stand at the edge again, looking down at them.

They gurgle and hiss, their red eyes staring back up at me. The sounds of their jagged nails scrambling for placement on the side of the cliff worries me, but they cannot climb. We are safe. For tonight, at least, thank God we are safe.

*

Light peeks over the top of the hillside, glaring in at me through the windshield. I rub my eyes and slouch further down in my seat, but the sun retaliates and rises further in the sky, making me groan and fully awaken.

“All right, all right,” I mumble to myself.

I turn in my seat and see Lilly still sleeping, her little thumb tucked into her pink little rosebud mouth. My mouth twitches into what could possibly be considered a smile, but then I surrender myself to my misery again. I open the door and get out, taking my smokes out of my back pocket and lighting one up before I’ve even shut the door behind me.

The first wave of nicotine hits me and I relish the pleasure it brings me. There are only three things that bring me pleasure these days: Lilly, my cigarettes, and food. I walk to the edge and look down the cliff face, knowing that the monsters won’t be there now—they are never there during the day. The night is their only friend.

Their previous night’s antics are there to see, unfortunately, in the form of a bloodied pebbled beach and mutilated carcasses. I don’t look close enough to see if they are human or animal bones. It doesn’t matter—dead is dead, no matter what it is. I can’t do anything about it. I finish my cigarette, feeling the hunger pangs subside a little, and go to the trunk of my car and open it to check our supplies. I know we are running low on everything, and if we don’t find food soon, we will run out and starve. I can survive without food longer than Lilly can, but it’s been days now and I can feel myself growing weaker. The cigarettes were a great find to curb the hunger pangs, but even I’m going to need real food soon.

I pull out the last of the canned food: a small can of pinto beans. She hates pinto beans, and I hate the effort of having to make a fire to cook them on. I was so pleased the day we found the stash of cans, so pleased. But now, as I stare at the last can, I think the beans were a curse, because we haven’t found food since that day. I throw the can to the ground in anger, and slam the lid down on the trunk with a small sob. When I look up through the window, Lilly is staring back at me. Her wide brown eyes look frightened and I turn my sad face to a happy one for her, beckoning her out of the car to stretch her legs.

I pick her up as she climbs out, giving her a quick squeeze and a kiss on her forehead before pushing the soft curls back from her face.

“Morning, Honey-Bee.”

“Morning.”

“Did you sleep well?”

She nods. “I need to pee, bad.” She bites on her bottom lip, a small frown furrowing her brow.

“Okay, let’s go pee together.” I smile and put her down, taking her hand as we walk away from the car and towards a bush. She stops as we near it. I turn to look at her.

“Check it,” she pleads.

It’s my turn to nod as I pull out my knife, release her hand, and walk the rest of the way to the bush on my own. I know there is nothing in there. She knows it too—the monsters only come out at night, and this bush isn’t dense enough for them to hide in—but I play along. I always play along if it makes her feel better.

I slash into the bush with my knife. “Better come out, monsters. Lilly has to pee real bad.” I turn and watch as her sweet features soften into a smile. “If there’s any of you in here, you better move along or you’re gonna get it.” I slash one more time for effect and hear her giggle. “All clear,” I say as I turn to her. She runs over to me, promptly pulls down her pants and briefs, and squats next to me as I do the same.

We finish up and make our way back to the car, Lilly doing a little skip as we go. She climbs in the back of the car and retrieves her teddy and then comes to stand by my side.

“I’m hungry,” she whispers up to me.

“I know, Lilly. I’m working on it.”

I open the trunk back up and pull out the bottle of water and take a long swallow before handing it over to her. She gulps it down greedily. I want to tell her to slow down and to ration it, but then I see the can of pinto beans on the ground and decide to allow her this small satisfaction, since she’s going to be eating her least favorite food today—and tomorrow… who knows what she’ll be eating?

I start a small fire using dried sticks, which cut into the palms of my hands and make my blisters worse, but I’m getting good at making fires now; I’m much better at it than I used to be. Eventually the fire is burning well enough for me to heat the beans for her, and soon enough she’s tucking into them with enough gusto to make me laugh.

“I thought you hated them,” I say between drags of my cigarette.

“I do.” She smiles and fills her cheeks, chewing greedily. “But I’m hungry.”

My stomach grumbles loudly, and heat rises in my cheeks. I’m glad that I’m sitting down as a dizzy spell passes through me, making my empty stomach twist in on itself. The headache that has been building all morning eventually breaks free, and I feel momentarily blinded by the pulsing pain.

I squeeze my eyes closed, letting my cigarette burn down between my fingers until it singes the tips and I drop it with a yelp. When I open my eyes back up, Lilly is staring at me sadly, fork poised before her open mouth.

“You should eat,” she whispers.

“I’m okay, I ate earlier,” I lie.

Satisfied, she continues to eat, and I stand and sift through the first-aid kit until I find the last painkiller. I pop it in my mouth and grab the water bottle before realizing it is empty. I drop it back into the trunk of my car and pinch the bridge of my nose. Frustration and anger burn through me. Tears build behind my lids, but I force them back down as I dry swallow the powdery tablet, feeling it wedge in my throat. I continue to swallow until it starts to dissolve, leaving a vile, bitter taste in my mouth. At least it’s down, is all I can think.

I turn to Lilly as she finishes the beans and lets out a small burp. “All better now?”

She nods and smiles before picking up a stick and drawing in the dirt on the ground. Everything is dirty these days. Dirty and ruined.

Fading Hope Humanity Unbound is Available now from Amazon, featuring seven awesome apocalyptic authors.

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Claire C. Riley lives in the United Kingdom with her husband, three beautiful daughters, and one scruffy dog. Her work is best described as the modernization of classic, old-school horror. She fuses multi-genre elements to develop storylines that pay homage to cult classics while still feeling fresh and cutting-edge. She writes characters that are realistic and kills them without mercy.

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