Superstitious security
Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.
-Helen Keller
When you're a child, your parents tell you about the monsters under the bed so that you don't get out in the middle of the night. From then on, your Daddy is forced to check every night; closet, bed, behind the dresser- just to be sure. Eventually though, you come to realise that the only sanctuary, the only place you truly feel safe, is in your parents' bed. The monsters can't hurt you there. In hindsight, your parents probably regret telling you the story in the first place but even when they admit to you that the monsters aren't real, the damage is done.
When you've grown up and gotten your own place, far away from the safety net that is your parents, you have to deal with those monsters on your own. Of course, by then you've accepted that the monsters are just in your imagination. They can't climb out from under your bed because they didn't exist in the first place. But there's always that place, far in the depths of your mind -the same place where the so called irrational fear of the dark dwells- that still holds that childhood fear. The fear of the monsters.
So what happens when the monsters stop visiting in your nightmares, and become reality?
It's easy to be naïve about the end of the world when you're tucked away in a century's old farmhouse, in the country, surrounded by the same four walls that always kept you safe. Cut off from the rest of society, you don't truly understand what exactly is going on and so you wait, carry on as you always have. You can't pretend it's not happening forever though. And when the most innocent trip into town turns deadly, that's when you know that this time, there is no waking up.
-8-
There was something that still felt very surreal to Penny about standing in the roof of a barn and feeding live chickens to 15 people. Of course, whether they were still classed as people was a matter of opinion. The bone-chilling groans they released, which increased in volume and almost enthusiasm as they looked up to see her standing above them, definitely pushed them towards the non-human category. The hideous, festering wounds that covered the majority of them also supported this- wounds that would be enough to kill the average person.
The funny thing about the wounds is that they had indeed been enough to kill these people. Every 'person' in the barn had died; no movement, no pulse… nothing. Yet here they were, walking around in the enclosed space practically begging Penny to feed them. Their rotting hands were reached up as if they could pull her down from the rafters. She picked up the bag of wriggling chickens and, with practised precision, spilled the contents directly into the middle of the group. Of course, they would much prefer that it was human flesh they were being treated to.
Penny despised this task more than any other of the farm's chores. Sometimes it was easy for her to pretend that people weren't getting 'sick' and turning into cannibals. She could almost forget the changed faces of Annette and Shawn… forget that they were locked up in the barn with various others that were once considered friends and family. She could see them standing below her, reaching into a mass of feathers and blood to get their own helping of guts to devour. Penny couldn't see them as her loved ones. She tried, really she did but these 'people' were now so disfigured, and almost decomposed, to the point that they were unrecognisable.
The sight of them weakened her faith; even the mere thought of them was enough for her to want to give up hope. With each passing day, it was getting harder for Penny to keep accepting what her Father was saying about the cure coming any time now; there had to be people working on it somewhere right? Well that was the belief her Father still held on to. Penny however was slowly beginning to wonder if they were the only un-infected people still left in this world.
Of course she never voiced her opinions to anyone; what was the point in shattering her sister who was still clinging to the hope that these people would get better? Beth was only sixteen and Penny knew it would destroy her to hear that the chances of her mother and brother getting better were next to none. She couldn't do that to her; not until there was no other option.
Maggie however was a different story. The fact that there were only three years between Penny and Maggie meant that they had always been close growing up, a bond that only strengthened when their mother passed away. They had both been so young when it happened that the two started to rely on each other more than typical siblings would. So even though the two had never spoken of it, Penny was aware that Maggie too was beginning to see the flaws in their father's story.
With a sigh that again attracted the attention of some of the 'sick people' below, Penny walked away and climbed back down the ladder into the fresh air; eager to turn her back away so that the urge to look at them was no longer there. It was an instant relief. The smell in the barn was so disgusting that she could still taste it even after gulps of the clean air outside; it smelled like death.
Penny pulled her long, brown hair out of its ponytail and shook it slightly as if trying to shake the smell out of it. She knew that she didn't smell like them, in her head at least but she still felt like the stench would sink in to her every pore. As she walked towards the old farmhouse that was the Greene family residecne, she rubbed her hands down her shirt and along her arms, trying to rid it from there too instead of allowing it in her home.
-8-
"So Dad caught you an' Jimmy again, huh?" Maggie teased her younger sister as they stood, chopping vegetables on the kitchen counter, a knowing smirk plastered on her face.
"Not like we were actually doing anythin'." Beth retorted.
"Right, his pants were round his ankles 'cause you were checking for bites again huh?" Penny questioned as she entered the room but Beth didn't respond, instead choosing to roll her eyes at her older sisters' teasing. She was long since used to the way they would team up against her.
It had sometimes been hard for Beth, growing up as the youngest Greene girl. The age gap between herself and her sisters meant she would often feel left out or overlooked by the older girls. It also meant that Beth tried to compensate by acting a lot older than most people her age to keep up with Penny and Maggie; which helped explain why she thought running off to find some entertainment with her slightly older boyfriend, behind the stables, was a good thing.
"Need any help with those?" Penny asked, pointing to the remaining pile of carrots that Beth was currently working on.
"Almost done."
"That what Jimmy said?"
Beth blushed furiously at Maggie's comment and Penny couldn't help but laugh at the playful bickering that followed. It was one of those moments when Penny forgot. The world outside didn't matter and it was just her and her sisters, teasing one another about trivial, non-life threatening things.
"All I'm saying Beth is that if you need one of us to keep Dad distracted for a little while, all you have to do is ask," Maggie said, her tone still taking on the same teasing, playfulness it had earlier but Penny rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, let's all lie to Dad and encourage Beth to go have sex at sixteen," she replied lightly but the sarcasm coloured her tone. "That won't cause any problems at all."
"Oh and how old were you? Fourteen was it?"
"I think you're mixing my past up with your own there, Maggs."
Maggie merely smiled in response, not bothering to correct her since it was a losing argument. Neither girl had been a saint in their teenage years but Maggie had definitely taken the top spot.
"Do I not get a say in this?" Beth cut in with a smile of her own, completely untroubled by having to remind her sisters she was standing with them. It was good to hear them talking about their pasts again. Four weeks ago, she would never have thought it possible.
"No, you're staying virginal till you're thirty," Penny told her in the most patronising way she could manage whilst patting the top of Beth's head causing the younger girl to jerk away and scowl despite the smile still fully in place.
"Little too late for that," Beth muttered in return, just loud enough for her sisters to hear, making Maggie laugh again and Penny stare at her in open-mouthed disbelief. "What? Did you actually think we were checking for bites?" Coming from her soft-faced baby sister, the comment was too much and Penny relented, joining in with the laughter that filled the kitchen. It felt good to laugh, a relief for them all for the first time in what felt like forever.
They were still in the same position when Patricia walked into the kitchen, not too long after. Instantly she could feel the atmosphere in the house had lightened; a result no doubt of what she was seeing before her. They'd all been tense lately but the sisters especially; losing their mother and brother within the space of two days had broken them. Of course, they'd all loved Annette and Shawn but that kind of loss wasn't particularly new to the older family members.
"Everythin' ok in here?" Patricia's gentle voice broke through.
Upon hearing the addition to the conversation, the sisters managed to reign in their amusement, settling for knowing grins and sly looks. "Yeah, we're good," Penny told her, even managing a genuine smile of reassurance.
"Alright," Patricia replied, looking between them. "Keep it that way. Your father will be in soon. It'll be a nice change to not hear the three of you bickering." She received three nodding heads in reply, a response she was happy enough with.
"Where'd Dad go anyway?" It was something that had been bothering Penny for the past few hours when she first noticed her father's absence. "Need to talk to him about painting my room." She spoke, absently while wandering over to the sink to fill a pan with water.
"You're painting your room?" asked Maggie.
"Does that mean you're staying?" Beth questioned immediately causing Penny to grin at her; she couldn't decide whether her youngest sister looked relieved or apprehensive.
"Can't really go back to Atlanta, where else I got to go?" She answered Beth first. "And I'm sick of my room looking like an old person's home."
"Well it was Dad who decorated when you left…" Maggie responded causing the others in the room to smirk at the implications.
"I need to have a long talk with that man."
"He went up to the cattle field. One of them got sick or somethin'," said Patricia, finally getting the opportunity to answer Penny's earlier question but something about her response troubled the eldest sister as she turned to face Patricia.
"By himself?"
"He took Jimmy; and Otis headed out that way with them before he went huntin' I think," Patricia corrected, trying to appease her. Penny nodded, allowing the subject to move on but her expression gave away her thoughts. "Stop worryin', he'll be back soon enough."
"I know," she replied but she couldn't help but wish 'soon enough' was right that minute. It wasn't about her thinking her father unable to protect himself, she knew he could, but the thought of him being out in the fields surrounded by cattle made Penny a little nervous- and rightly so. The 'illness' that was turning people into cannibals was passed on through a bite, that much Penny knew for certain, but then when they turned it was noise that attracted them; the only things close by that made much noise were the cattle.
"So what colour were you thinking of?" Beth asked, pulling Penny out of her mind and successfully changing the subject back to something that didn't bring with it thoughts of death and plague.
-8-
When late-afternoon arrived, so did the return of Hershel and Jimmy which seemed to again lift the atmosphere once it was clear they were both safe and the family was together; the only exception being Otis. The sun was still clear and Penny gazed out of the kitchen window longingly, wishing she could sit on the front porch for a little while instead of cleaning the large collection of dishes they'd all managed to gather from an early dinner.
She didn't acknowledge her father at first as he picked up a towel and began to dry the now spotless dishes she had placed on the side. They carried on in comfortable silence until Penny caught Hershel's gaze lingering on her. "What?" She questioned with a bemused smile.
Hershel studied her for a moment longer, "Is everything ok?" He finally asked.
"Yes," Penny replied, voice rising slightly at the end of the word; making it sound more like a question. "Should something be wrong?"
"No, just Patricia mentioned you were worried before."
Penny only smiled in response, her eyes briefly flickering to meet her father's to find the worry she had been feeling reflected in his familiar features. "I always worry, Daddy. Should know that by now."
"That's true. You're too much like your mother in that sense."
"Well Annette always said I was too much like you. I'm tryna mix it up a little."
"It's most definitely working," Hershel told her causing Penny to smirk at him in a way that truly did remind him of her mother and it still caused the same jolt in his heart as it did every time he saw it. It was even worse now with all three of his daughters growing into women so similar to both of his late wives. It was equally heart-warming and devastating. "So, it was the cattle thing was it? That was worrying you?"
"It wasn't so much the cattle being sick, no."
"But it was that I'd gone out there to see to it."
Penny sighed, finally putting down the dish cloth to give her father her full attention. "Dad, you're a grown man. It's not my place to tell you what to do," seeing Hershel not planning to respond, Penny carried on. "I just panicked for one small moment. Those… people, they scare me Dad. Seeing Annette and Shawn like that… I just don't know what we'd do without you."
"Penny…"
"I know, this place is safe. I'm being ridiculous," she finished with a humourless laugh that was more out of embarrassment than anything but her father shook his head, placing his hand on her shoulder.
"No, you're being responsible. That's never a bad thing, sweetheart," Hershel told her, gently. "I guess living in that city did more good than-"
"DAD!"
The rest of Hershel's sentence was interrupted by the loud yell from outside which the two instantly knew to be Maggie. Penny glanced at her father in question before immediately following him out of the kitchen only to be met by Maggie running into the dining room, binoculars in hand.
"There's a man. There's a man running across the field. He looks like he's carrying something," her sentences were panicked, hurried, and Hershel swiftly moved past her to the front door. The family all spilled onto the porch, eager to see what exactly was happening, in time to see a man approaching the house, wearing what looked to be a sheriff's hat. He was indeed carrying something. A boy. A young boy who was covered in what looked to be fresh blood.