This Dying World: The End Begins (28 page)

“Suck it up and walk it off ya slacker,” he shrugged.  “We got work to do.”

We trudged through the snow, again avoiding the traps on our way back to the driveway.  The scant sunlight had finally been swallowed up by the dreary overcast skies.  The wind had completely died, no pun intended.  The smell had returned, either from the creatures we had just killed, or from the entire world dying around us.

“The smell!”

“What about it?” Chris looked over his shoulder at me.

“Why didn’t I go half blind after knocking that zombie’s brains out?  We stood there long enough for it to affect both of us.”

“No idea.  It hasn’t bothered anyone for a few days now.  Rosa thinks we might have built up a tolerance.  I still don’t like the word zombie, though,” Chris said as we continued our trek back towards the barn.

“What else would they be?” I asked.

“Zed works for me,” he replied.

“We know they’re dead, and they are walking around trying to eat us.  We shoot them in the head, and they die.  What else would they be?” I asked again.

“What would happen if I shoot you in the head?” he smiled.

“I’d haunt your ass for being a dick!”

“That is a terrifying thought,” he laughed.

“More terrifying than clowns?”

His laughter immediately ceased.  Chris has an unnatural fear of clowns.  Now, I’m not saying clowns aren’t freakier than shit.  But Chris was sent into a near panic and fled to the basement the day a certain unnamed brother sent a singing clown telegram to his house for his birthday.  He never did figure out who sent such a well thought out gift.  Seeing that he was heavily armed, I didn’t think the moment was right to tell him.

“No, clowns are worse.  Fuck clowns,” he said, turning away from me.

“You know, somewhere out there in the world, there is a thriving colony of undead clowns.”

“Fuck clowns, and fuck you!” he shot back.

“I wonder what a zombie clown would look like.  I mean, does the make-up stay on, or just slide off the face over time.  What about the noses and goofy hair?” I continued to needle him.

“Okay, you know what?” he spun around.  “When you were asleep and I was on watch, I put a spider on your face and took a picture!”  He turned and walked away.

“Wait!  What!?”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Icy winds cut through Adam as he trudged across the empty corn field.  The ground crumbled under his feet as he walked past the frozen stalks rising through the snowy blanket.  The heavy duffle bag slung across his shoulder clanged loudly as hastily packed cans of food bounced against his back.  A rusty crowbar tucked into his belt slapped against his thigh, turning the front of his green pants dull orange.  Sweat trickled down his forehead, his chest burning from exertion.

He left the house after Abby had come back inside.  While no one was looking, he stole as much food as he could carry and made for the field behind the barn.  He stopped only once, to spit on the ancient stone silo that had brought Dan into his life before making his long walk to the far tree line.  The car was no longer there, but his mind’s eye could still see the black smoke pouring out from under the gore covered hood.

He swore under his breath at everyone.  Dan had disrespected him.  Adam shamefully begged for his life in front of everyone.  Chris threw him out, and for what?  He was only saying what he knew everyone was thinking.  His heart filled with murderous rage towards those that had wronged him.

He held his head down, watching his feet kick snow aside as they plowed through the drifts.  Blood rushed through his ears, the cadence of his heartbeat keeping time with his steps.  The clouds above devoured the last remaining rays of sun as the midmorning passed into another dreary winter afternoon.

Adam’s thoughts were so lost in white hot anger that he did not notice the mounds of tilled earth had given way to flatter, softer ground.  It was not until his shoulder bounced off of a small sapling that he realized he was standing just inside the edge of the forest.

Darkened shadows crawled across the forest floor.  A foul rotten odor carried on the wind, sending chills up Adam’s spine.  He thought he could hear the shuffling movement of dead feet in the distance.  He felt hungry eyes upon him as he backed away from the foreboding wilderness.  His body went numb as fear slimed its way throughout his being.  No one was coming to help him.

He retreated from the forest and away from the phantoms his mind conjured up.  Dry twigs snapped, echoing through the dense and silent woods.  He thought he heard the throaty hiss of the dead deep within.  His heart raced and his breaths quickened.

He shuffled backwards, eyes darting back and forth watching for danger he suddenly felt was behind every tree.  He slid the crowbar from his belt, holding it up and ready to strike.  He readied himself to run when his heel caught on a mound of earth.

He went sprawling, the heavy duffle bag pulling him backwards onto the ground.  His back slammed against his pack when he hit the ground.  For a few terrifying moments it was as if the muscles in his chest had forgotten how to draw air.  He rolled to his side and struggled to breathe.  The remnant of a corn stalk, hardened by the cold sliced deeply into his forehead above his eye.  Warm blood trickled down his face staining the snow below him with crimson drops.

Adam felt around for his weapon.  Coming back empty handed, he turned back towards the woods, fearful that his noise had drawn out the creatures hiding in the shadows.  He grabbed a handful of snow, wiping away the blood that had marred his vision.

A deer walked through the trees, nuzzling its way through the shallow snow in search for food.  It raised its head and stared at Adam for long moments before returning to its search.  It moved gingerly between the trees, dead leafs crunched under its long slender legs.  The hiss of its body rubbing against dead brush carried to Adams ears, eerily reminiscent of the living dead’s voice.

Adam dropped his head back to the ground.  He watched the graceful animal graze, and laughed at himself for letting his mind run away to the point that he freaked himself out.

Slowly and quietly he made his way to his feet, as not to scare the foraging deer.  An outline in the snow showed him where his weapon had fallen.  After a few seconds of sifting, he was able to return it to his belt.  The animal eyed him cautiously as it chewed scraps of food it had dug up.  It lowered its muzzle to the ground again to continue its search, its eyes never fully breaking away from Adam.

“Chill, Bambi.  I’m not going to eat you.” He moved towards the woods again.  “Never saw one of you up close.”

He tread lightly, closing the gap between himself and the timid animal.  It tensed as he neared, its brown and white pelt rippling as its tail twitched.  Adam slowed, allowing the animal to relax before getting closer.  When the animal eased, he moved again.  He continued his measured approach until they were separated by only a few feet.

“BOO!”

The deer tripped up in its own legs as it darted through dead underbrush to get away.  Adam laughed as it crashed through the woods and out of sight.

“Yeah!  How do you like it fucker?!” he called after the deer.  “Doesn’t feel good getting scared, does it?!”

“Dumb ass,” he said under his breath as he heard the distant sound of the frightened animal crash through the woods.

He made his way back to his duffle bag.  Dark wet spots were already growing across the canvas.  The strong smell of creamed corn surrounded it.  He stared at the mess, knowing that his fall had cost him some, if not all of his canned food.  The few clothes he had packed were likely covered in a wet mash of canned meat and green beans.

“Shit!” he spat.  “Shit, shit, shit!”  He picked up the bag, hurling it away with all his strength as his frustration peaked.  Its contents sprayed into the air as the duffel popped open on impact.  The clang of the aluminum cans thundered across the field, echoing off the red barn in the distance.

He dropped to his stomach, waiting for someone to come around the barn seeking the source of his noise.  His little temper tantrum had exposed him to whomever was standing watch.  He didn’t know if they would ignore him or come out to haul him back.  For all he knew, Dan was up there now, lining up the shot that would end his life.

He watched the barn intently for any sign of movement.  The building was huge, and the gentle downward slope of the land made the red and white building that much more imposing.  Even the farmhouse was obscured from where he lay.

He almost kicked himself for not seeing it sooner.  He scanned the area to be sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him.  The house, cars, and even the old rusty windmill towering above the trees were shielded from his view.

“Blind spot!” Adam gasped.  “A fucking blind spot!” he laughed to himself.

No one on watch could see him.  His path in the snow had been a straight line leading up to where he lay.  He was completely concealed from prying eyes.  He could have marched across the field and into the woods carrying a flag and wearing neon lights, and no one would have known.

The laughter came on him like a flood.  Tears flowed, washing away the blood that continued to ooze into his eye.  After the day of his emotions running well above his norm, he welcomed the chance to laugh it all away.  Feeling his stress melt away, he rolled on his back to catch his breath.

The zombie was upon him before he could react.  The dead man’s old bones cracked as it fell forward on top of him.  Adam threw up his arm in time to catch the creature across the throat.  Noxious black fluid seeped from sores on its head dripping down into Adam’s mouth.  He gagged and spat, rocking back and forth trying to gain leverage to throw the creature off.

Gums clamped together until they bled, sticky foam dripping from its mouth onto his cheeks.  Grimy fingers wrapped around the back of his head, pulling Adam close enough for its swollen black tongue to lap at the blood on his face.  He shrieked as the cold sticky organ slimed its way up his skin.  He shook his head violently, trying to dislodge himself from the creature’s grasp.  His forehead suddenly lit with searing pain as its tongue plunged deep into his open wound.

A nauseating heat spread under Adams flesh, curling its way around his skull.  His throat burned when he drew breath across a numbed tongue.  In the midst of fighting for his life, he knew his struggle was ultimately in vain.

He was infected.

He pushed the creature away from his face, but the thing had gone wild with the taste of warm blood.  It clawed at his face, leaving deep welts across his cheek.  Adam continued to rock until he felt the creature’s weight shift, suddenly freeing one of Adam’s hands.

He grabbed the crowbar loose from his belt and forced the sharp point underneath the creature’s jaw.  Blackened sludge that was once its blood poured from its throat as Adam pushed through the paper thin flesh.  He felt a pop as the iron pushed through the creature’s decayed palate, crunching thin bone as it passed deeper into its head.  With a final push, the cold metal broke through into the soft brain.  The creature stiffened and went limp, its full dead weight coming down on top of Adam.

He pushed the corpse off and rolled to his hands and knees.  His stomach roiled, and he vomited in great heaves.  A pounding ache began to form behind his eyes, the fever already beginning to burn.  The sickening warmth that started from his forehead had already worked its way down his shoulders.

“Fuck!” he raged, pounding his fists against the frozen ground.  He brought himself to his feet and stood over the corpse.

“Fuck you!”  He stomped on the things gut until remnants of its last meal spewed from its mouth.  The masticated flesh sent Adam into another vomiting fit when he realized what the spewed meat was.  He kicked the crowbar still lodged in corpse head, driving it through the top of the skull.  Brain matter stuck to the tool began to dissolve into a black viscous sludge in the open air.

A rustling sound drew his attention.  He turned to find dozens of dead eyes staring back at him.  Decaying faces emerged from the shadows cast within the forest.  He had not heard them until they had already set their sights on  him.  Their arms outstretched towards him as the empty silence suddenly erupted with growls.

He laughed an insane laugh.  His fate was sealed the second he had been forced to leave the farm.  He was infected, and he was dying.  His last moments would be spent having his flesh rent from his body and devoured in front of him.

“Dan did this!” he spat.  “This is his fault!”

He looked back towards the farm with smoldering hatred.  His eyes trailed back to the slowly approaching horde and back to the farm again.  He gambled that he would have enough time for one final act.

“Fine!” he said.  “Let’s do this.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

“What the hell are you thinking!?” I gasped.

Chris had taken me to the slaughter room behind the barn.  I had been inside several times before, usually to help him wrangle some poor animal to the inevitable fate of most farm livestock.  The smell let me know what was waiting inside long before he turned on the battery powered lantern hanging by the door.

The 10’ by 20’ building was laid out like a medieval torture chamber.  Bladed instruments hung from supports on the walls.  The poultry corner sat opposite of where we stood, where several fried chicken dinners had started with the drop of a hatchet.  Two empty hog pens sat to our right, the concrete floor permanently stained red with years of use.  A stack of aluminum tubs were pushed into one pen, stored until they were needed to collect the blood and castoffs from butchered animals.

A large skinning rack spanned half the length of the wall to our left.  Two sets of thick ropes dangled freely over the rack’s top beam, a small noose tied to the end of each swaying cord.  Large basins sat below each set, poised to collect the blood spilling from the doomed livestock.

On the third rope set, the world’s newest apex predator had been secured.  I knew who it was the second I laid eyes on him.  I had seen him close enough in my rear view mirror to have the man’s face etched permanently in my memory.

The biker that had followed me to the farm hung upside down on the rack.  Its clothes had been removed, exposing its gray mottled skin to the frigid air.  Meat hooks dug deeply into its thighs, holding it fast.  Everything below the knees had been hacked off, leaving nothing but rotting stumps.  Its arms were missing entirely, cut cleanly from the shoulders.  Viscera poked through a bullet hole in its gut, the hole itself widening with rot.  Its throat had been slashed, the sludge that had once been blood collected in the basin below.  It opened its mouth despite the clearly shattered jaw, but its only noise was a gurgle from its severed throat.  Its body writhed, swinging back and forth as warm flesh approached.

“I’m thinking that I need to know who my enemy is,” Chris replied apathetically.

“It’s a fucking zombie!  What the hell do you want to learn from it?” I argued.

“Does it bleed?” he turned to face me.  “Does it breathe?  Is it afraid of anything?  Does it feel any sensation whatsoever?  Will it freeze to death?  Will it starve to death?  Those answers will tell me something.”

“And?!” I demanded.

“They don’t breathe, which means they probably won’t have any problems surviving under water.  It leaks more than it bleeds, so no heartbeat.  Draining its blood only made it lighter.  The cold bothers us more than them, so the environment won’t be any help.  It doesn’t look like lack of food has hurt it in any way.  And if this thing is afraid of anything, I haven’t found it.”

“Okay professor, so what have you concluded?”  I didn’t like the fact that this thing was so close to my family, but I couldn’t deny the logic behind his actions.

“It’s probably a zombie,” he smirked.

“Oh gee willikers Captain Obvious!” I roared.  “Isn’t that what I’ve been saying all along!?  Did you also make the amazing discovery that they smell like sun dried hobo’s ass?!”

“No,” Chris said with dead seriousness.  His face grew dark, and his voice carried a chill that the winter air could not match.  “They adapt.”

I fell silent.  Most people would not have noticed the change in his features, but I could tell what he had found scared him to his core.  That did very little to calm my own nerves.

“It turned sometime when we were in the basement,” he started.  “It was going crazy when I found it, so I took away almost everything that could be a problem for me, hence the arms and legs.  But I noticed something in its face that seemed different from the ones before.  I left it hanging with the room exactly the way I found it, with the lights off.”

With that, Chris killed the lantern.  Shadows leapt from the floor, engulfing us in almost complete darkness.  Shafts of light from the dreary day penetrated the room through the cracks in the shuttered windows.  I could hear the creature continue to struggle against its restraints in the oppressive darkness.

“Take the light and go to the other side of the room, turn it back on and look at that thing,” he said.

“You can just tell me what you found out.”  Truth be told, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what he discovered.  Chris wasn’t one for theatrics, so what he wanted me to see was bound not to make my day any better.

“Humor me,” he replied simply.

I waited until my eyes adjusted enough to not trip over my own feet before slowly shuffling to the other side of the room.  I couldn’t tell in the dark if I heard teeth clacking together, or if its jawbone was just popping.  I didn’t know what Chris had done to the man after I blacked out, but I hoped it hurt. I finally stopped when I bumped against the opposite wall.

I turned the lantern on, shielding my eyes from the sudden light.  When I could see again, I suddenly wished that I couldn’t.  The creature’s head had tracked my movements.  It stared back at me, its eyes shining black under the dim light.  It had lost none of its zeal to feed on me, stretching its neck outward as it strained to bite.

“It can see in the dark,” Chris said, almost to himself.

“Are you sure?  Maybe it heard me walking.”

“Trust me.  That thing can’t hear a sound anymore,” Chris said in a tone that implied that I shouldn’t ask questions.  “That’s not all.  Keep watching.”

Reluctantly, I crouched down to stare back into the black orbs.  White eyes at least could be explained.  It seemed almost natural, if the word natural could be used for a walking corpse.  Black though, that was completely inhuman.  If there was any part of me that believed these things had any humanity left, I was cured of those thoughts the moment I saw those demon eyes.

I watched, waiting for the next horrifying event to take place to add to my ever growing list of reasons I would never sleep again.  I didn’t have to wait very long.  The undead never fail to deliver on horror in short order.  It was as if heavy cream had been poured into a cup of black coffee.  A white swirl appeared in the center of its eyes, mixing around in the blackness until it began to lighten.  In a matter of seconds, its eyes were white again.

“Holy shit!” I exhaled, falling back on my ass.

“Yeah.”

“What the hell was that!”

“Adaptive vision.  From what I can tell, they’re evolving into better hunters.  I thought about what you said last night, and I think you’re right.  Not that there’s any intelligence, but instinct makes perfect sense.”

I scrambled to my feet and shot towards the door.  I wanted to put as much distance between myself and that thing as I could.  I was out the door, gasping for air in seconds.  I heard Chris hang the lantern up before following me out.  I turned back towards him, just to make sure he completely closed the door behind him.

“I thought you said they couldn’t see in the dark?!”  I am not ashamed to say the revelation that I had just witnessed had me visibly shaking.

“The ones in the wild don’t yet.  Don’t forget, that one has been in almost total darkness since you got here.  I think within a week or two we’re going to be asshole deep in bug eyed zeds.”

“You like the freak show?” a familiar voice called from above.  I looked up to find Mark sitting halfway out the second floor window of the house.  Tendrils of blue smoke wrapped around him, emanating from the half finished cigarette between his fingers.  A black rifle barrel rested across his lap.

“Hey!” Chris called up.  “I said no smoking in the house!”

“I’m half outside,” Mark replied taking another drag.  “Only that half is smoking.”

“I thought you quit,” I said.  I welcomed the subject change to calm my nerves.

“I did, until a mob of dead people ran me out of my house.  I thought I’d give it another whirl.”  Mark took one last drag and flicked the smoldering butt away.  “Cancer just doesn’t seem like a main concern anymore.”

“Better not tell Matt you have those.  You might have to share,” I said.

“Where do you think I got them from?” he smirked mischievously.  “He’s a heavy sleeper.”

“Dick move man!” I laughed.  “Hey, is Adam up there?”

“Nope.  He’s gone.”

“Gone?  When?”

“Probably right after I told him to leave,” Chris answered.

“You threw him out?  You don’t think we could have smoothed things over?” I asked.

“Not after the shit he pulled when you left,” Chris replied.

“I wouldn’t worry about him,” Mark said.  “That guy was a fully licensed and certified asshole.  We’re better off with him gone.”

“Definitely.  Come on, I’ve got something to show you,” Chris said.

“I’m still not over the last thing you showed me!” I glared at him.

“Trust me, you’ll like this one,” Chris smiled.

“You gonna show him the Beast?”  Mark grinned.

“The Beast?”  I raised an eyebrow at Chris.

“Follow me.”

**********

“Damn!” was the only word I could think to say when Chris opened the barn’s oversized bay doors.

The behemoth that had recently been an integral part of Chicago’s public transportation system had been transformed into a rolling zombie ass kicking fortress.  Every inch on the bus had been painted matte black.  Corrugated metal inhabited the spaces where the large windows once sat, reinforced with the same rebar mesh protecting the farm house.  Large metal shark fin type blades ran the length of the vehicle.  They were sharpened on the front and would leave a devastating wound across the midsection of anything that got too close as it drove by.  Two snow plows welded together in a V shape were attached to the front.  The bottoms of the scoops were cut into saw like serrations.  The whole contraption looked like it was meant to slice and push aside simultaneously.

Above the plow, the windshields had been protected much the same way as every other window.  Large plates of corrugated steel had been bolted over the glass, with the same rebar mesh covering it all.  It took a minute, but my brain finally broke through the awe I found myself struck with.

“Umm, how do you drive this thing?”  I asked.

“With the steering wheel,” Chris replied.

“Okay smart ass.” I glanced sideways at him.  “How do you see where you’re going?  And God help you if you say with your eyes!”

“Well, that’s where you come in,” Joe said strolling up behind us so quietly even Chris jumped.

“How the hell did you do that?!”  Chris demanded.

“Do what?” Joe asked.

“Look like Paul Bunyan and still sneak up behind me!”

“I’ve been practicing,” Joe smirked.

“Anyway,” I interjected.  “Where do I come in?”

“I’ve got some CCTV cameras set up towards the top of the windshield.  There’s a few along the sides and the back too.  We have some big monitors mounted in front of the driver.  Good ones too.  The whole system is color, night vision, the works.”  Joe puffed up proudly.

“Interesting,” I said looking around for the cameras.  Joe was a genius around anything with a motor, and he could fabricate just about anything.  Invisible cameras must have been one of those things, because damned if I could find them anywhere.

“Problem is,” he continued.  “I can mount them, but wiring stuff like that isn’t my thing.  Chris here can blow things up pretty good, but that doesn’t help getting things wired up.”

“Hey!” Chris protested.  “I’ve wired a few things up before!”

“Did one end of your wiring job usually explode?” Joe chided.

“Well, yeah.  Mostly,” Chris answered.

“I rest my case.”  Joe winked at me.

“Those things will take a bit of power to run.  Not so much the cameras, but the monitors will be electricity hogs.  I don’t know how much power we can draw off the bus’s batteries and alternator without it becoming a problem,” I said.

“We thought of that.  We’ve layered the roof with solar panels.  I’ve got the makings for a small battery bank inside too.  Not just for the cameras, but to store power for other things too.  I thought as long as the bus is moving, we might as well get a battery stockpile if we can.”

“Good thinking!  I’m guessing you need the guts wired together?”

“You read my mind,” Joe replied.  “So…impressed?”

“Very!” I nodded in approval.  “Where did you get the solar equipment?”

“I bought a kit so I wouldn’t have to keep messing around with the generator every time a storm knocked out power,” Chris replied.  “We just got creative with it.”

“Want to see the inside?” Joe motioned towards the bi-fold doors.

“Do leprechauns crap four leaf clovers?”  I replied.  Joe stared at me as if I had suddenly sprouted wings and started doing loop de loops in the barn.

“He means yes,” Chris sighed.

“He’s as crazy as you are!” he said to Chris, thumbing in my direction.