Chapter Two: Ben

"Here, hold this up."

River was seated in an enclosed room with a flickering LED lantern hanging over his head. The room was just lit enough to expose the worn body of Benjamin Grecky, whom sat across from River in a comfortable lobby-chair. Ben's face, exposed by the white light, bore scars across his right eye and cheek, and a part of his ear was missing. He had brown hair, with streaks of white here and there, and bright blue eyes which reflected the light in the room. His cheek bones were clearly visible, possibly the doing of slight starvation. His lips were pursed, dried and cracked from thirst. He had aged quite a bit in those two years.

River held out a slab with the writing:

Catalogue #53

Subject: Benjamin R. Grecky

Age: 36

etched in black marker.

"Is this part of the "catalogue"," Ben hesitated.

"Yes, that and the video camera set up next to me."

"Well, at least I took a shower this morning," he joked and received the slab from River. He looked at the slab, and turned his attention to River, who was motioning for him to, "Hold it here."

Ben held the slab in the middle of his torso, and smiled cockily.

"Feel like I'm getting a mug shot."

"Well," River was adjusting the video camera on its stand to match with the light of the room, "we get that a lot. Just think of it as a self portrait, or autobiography." The camera's lens focused and unfocused, making little electronic hisses with each reflex. Ben looked past the cameraman and to the mirror behind him. He recognized a mirror like this before.

"We're being watched, aren't we?"

"Yeah," river didn't look up from his work, "Gotta make sure nothing bad happens to me or you down here."

"Right," Ben's tone dropped and he stared at the ground. He kicked his feet back and forth. Finally there was a small beep and River looked up from the camera.

"Alright," he said, now looking at Ben, "I want you to give me a summary on what has happened to you in these past two years. I know that's asking for a lot, but it's protocol, and you're at liberty to nix out gruesome details if you feel uncomfortable explaining them. You ready?"

Ben stared astonished at the formality of his interviewer.

"How old are you?" he finally asked.

"Nineteen, sir."

"So you must have been seventeen when the shit hit the fan?"

"Yes, just finishing my senior year at NHPS."

"NHPS?"

"New Haven Primary School, now if you could tell me where you were-."

"Jesus, you were just seventeen…" Ben was lost for a moment.

"If you could tell me where you were when the FV hit, that would be a good start."

"You probably get this a lot," Ben avoided his question, "but how has a town of this size managed to stay, oh, operational during all of…this?"

"I do get that a lot," River kept composure, "and that will be answered at the end of the catalogue. This is about you sir, not me."

"Alright," Ben said, the smile returning to his scared face, "I'll play along."

"Let's see, when all of this happened, I was on my way back home from a convention in Springfield- I lived in Bloomington at the time, worked for an advertising agency out of an apartment downtown- when I ran into a traffic jam on Interstate 55. Cars were backed up for miles, people were gathered outside of their vehicles, looked like I wouldn't be getting out of there for a while. I put my Toyota into park and turned on the radio. That's when the static hit. And then, well, you know. Chicago went. Could see the cloud from the road, rose up like a goddamned hot air balloon. Well people started to panic, cars trying to back out of their spaces to get the hell away from there, people running for their damned lives. I got out of my car just as some poor bastard flew by me screaming, "It's the end of the world! It's Revelation!" I decided that the best thing to do would be to get back into the car, ha. The radio was still screwed up, so I sat there for a minute to gather my thoughts.

Okay.

Let's see.

Got a friend who lives in Chicago, that's it. No major relatives. Gonna miss that friend, though.

After that, I put the car into drive and sped over the ditch dividing the sides of the interstate. Already a flood of traffic came billowing down the other side, saw a few crashes on the way. I got about twenty miles on that ditch without running into trouble, which really surprised me. That's when I came to the wreck. Fire everywhere, people trying to put it out. When all of the sudden, a fucking body came flying out of the smoke and flames, and latched itself onto a person trying to help. Scared the shit out of me. I got out of my car, and yelled at the group of people looking on, and then saw the blood. The guy was charbroiled, burned to a crisp, and attacking this guy on the ground. Like something out of a damned horror movie. Naturally I was a bit shocked. That's where I think I got the first of these white hairs. The other people moved in, and tried to wrench the burning guy off of the guy on the ground, but it looked like their skin had….melted together. Can I have some water?"

"Sure thing," River looked towards the window, "Hey Joe." From the other side of the two-way mirror, a man sitting behind a recording booth brought a microphone to his mouth.

"Can do bud." The man pressed a button on the recording booth and rose from his chair. He walked to the other side of the recording booth and withdrew a water bottle from a plastic container. He exited the dark room and entered the dimly lit recording studio. He handed the bottle to Ben, who met him with a cordial, "Thank you." Joe exited the room, situated himself back into his chair, and pressed the button on the recording booth once again.

Ben refreshed himself with the water, and placed the bottle down next to him.

"As you were saying?"

"Oh yeah, well to make a long story short, I got the hell out of there. Made my way back to Bloomington, saw a lot of crazy shit on the way there. When I finally reached town, I saw how bad things had gotten. Houses on fire, people running in the street, bodies, the whole shebang. I honestly had seen so much in such a short time span that none of this fazed me; I just needed to get home. Get some things together before I plan my next move. Thought I'd start from there. I noticed I was running low on gas, but, as I said, I didn't think about this. All I thought was

gotta keep moving.

Gotta get home.

And then I found it…burned to a fucking crisp. Everything…was gone. All my work, all my life was in that apartment. I got another white hair there. So that jarred me pretty bad. Had to rethink everything. First thing on that list was gas…do I need to explain the whole two years?"

"No, just annotate it as much as you can, only tell anything you consider important information."

"Maybe you could give me something to work off of? Ha." His tone was annoyance.

"Did you encounter any of the infected at first hand?"

"Oh yeah, multiple times. One of the first things I did was snatch me a weapon, Colt .45, M1911, first gun I ever had to use. Had to teach myself how to work the thing. I was lucky to even get one, because everyone's first place to go was a gun store. People flooded them, usually sparking a riot of some sort. Some people got shot; that just added to the body count. I got my Colt plain and simple, Wal-Mart. Grabbed some food while I was at it. I guess I was one of the luckier ones. But yeah, back to your question, I have encountered a few Deaders. Had to exterminate some, shoot 'em in the head. Learned that the hard way…

"Did you ever join any groups of people, or convoys?"

"No, I tried to avoid people at most costs. Thought I'd be better off that way. Every group of survivors I ever heard about usually didn't turn out for the best, that's why I'm so surprised that you all have managed here, as a community y'know?"

"Why did you decide to travel north?"

"Well I heard on the radio-when I finally found one that worked-that there was a CDC camp up north that was housing survivors. But I guess that rumor could have been started anywhere, huh? I mean, this is the first place I've come across that actually takes refugees. Milwaukee's completely taken over, or so I've been told. Chicago's gone. And, now that I've been closer to the border, I don't think there's even a CDC camp, is there?"

"Not to our knowledge, no."

"So this is it, huh? This is where I stop walking…"

"Sir?" River looked concerned for the first time, "Are you okay?"

"You're Roger's son, right?" Ben looked up, tears crossed his eyes.

"Yes sir, I am."

"Roger was the one who let me in, I had just come out of the tunnel. I don't even know why I had gone through there. I guess I was too delusional, hadn't eaten in days. You know how hard it is to find clean food, or water for that matter? It's a fucking nightmare out there. How have you had enough food and water to survive here?"

"New Haven was a trading intersection, a kind of storage point for business companies. Underneath us, as we speak, is over forty thousand tons of supplies needed to survive on a day to day basis. My mother counts that supply every day, and we've estimated that we have enough food and water to last us another ten years."

"How do you keep it from expiring?"

"We refrigerate it, most of it."

"How does that help?"

"It does."

"And water? How can you get enough clean water?"

"We have natural springs near us, but most of our water, as I said, is in storage."

"Oh, right…" Ben trailed off once again.

"Sir, you said you were on the road for some time? Did you spend all of the two years traveling?"

"Actually, no, I didn't. I decided to try and find my sister before I headed to the border. She lived in Des Moines..."

"Lived?"

"Yes, lived."

"I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright, I got there and found out the whole city had been taken over by Deaders. When I found her house, it was broke into, old memories stolen, and then I found her. Lying on her bed…with a bullet through her head. She still looked like an angel…her arms spread out like the damned Messiah."

"Do you need a tissue, sir?"

"No, no," Ben wiped the tears from his eyes, "I need to talk about it. Someone needs to know."

"Might as well be the camera."

"Alright," River said, shifting in his seat, "I think we have all the information we need. Thank you so much for your time." River rose to shake Ben's hand, and Ben accepted the offering, giving back a firm grip.

"No," he said with a weak smile, "Thank you." River turned off the camera and began to dismantle the tripod which it was attached to. Ben got up, stared at the ceiling and began to move towards the exit. He looked back to his young interviewer.

"You know," Ben's voice was weak, almost a whisper, "I still see her. I see her in the hope of everyone in this town. I…I think I'm finally home." And he smiled. River smiled too.

Number fifty-three, Benjamin Grecky.

Joe clicked off the recording booth's power and turned on the lights of the recording studio. Ben had already exited the facility, and had made his way to the exit of the town hall, which was where the recording studio was located. River opened the door leading into the recording booth, and met Joe as he threw away his own bottle of water.

"Tell me you were recording when he got all sentimental."

River chuckled and scratched his head. "Can't say I was."

"Eh, there'll be more. How's that compilation video coming along?"

"About half way done, trying not to add too much emotional stuff."

"I'm telling you," Joe walked past River, "got to get those monologues, dude. That shit is golden."

River was left alone in the recording studio, watching the playback from what he just recorded. Plotting out which parts he'd use for his "compilation". He sniffled.

"Did I ever finish the comp-video?"

"No, can't say I did."