Chapter 6
As soon as Ellie climbed up through the hole in the floor, she had to fight the urge to jump for joy. The room was mostly destroyed. Of course it was. It had been where the burning piece of debris crashed through into the storage closet below, after all. But by some miracle, the back of it was mostly untouched. As she looked around her, she could see the melted remains of guns that would probably never fire again mounted on the walls and scattered across the floor. Whoever this family had been, they'd possessed a lot of guns, clearly. A lot of ammo too, all of which had ignited in the fire and detonated. The pockmarks and bullet holes in the wall were testament to such. But the thing that she was overjoyed to see was the workbench in the back. She quickly made her way over and inspected it, turfing away a corpse that was slumped over it as she did so. Most of the tools were warped or damaged from the heat. Still the bench itself was sturdy enough that she felt she could work on it.
As she looked down at the corpse, she spotted her second stroke of good luck. The man clearly hadn't been part of the family that lived there. His skin was burned and blistered and his face was smashed in horribly. Clearly he'd also had a run in with the creature that prowled the home and much more recently, too. He was borderline fresh, showing minimal signs of decay. That meant this had happened within the last week or two, while it was still too cold for anything to get in and allow the body to decompose. He'd been partially eaten, though. No doubt by the infected creature she was up against now. The cold was keeping him fresh. But it was what he was holding that drew her eye. There was a bottle of oil-based cleaning solution clenched in his hand. That was perfect. Knowing rigor mortis would have set in, she brought the butt of her pistol down on his hand several times. She couldn't hide her cringe at the crunching noises of his fingers breaking and slowly releasing the bottle before she grabbed it and un-slung her shotgun. As she dumped it down on the bench, she grabbed a scrappy cleaning rag that was almost threadbare and squirted some of the cleaner onto it before going to work. The rag glided over the shotgun's barrels and stock. A lot of the scratches seemed to vanish instantly and the years of neglect faded as she scrubbed. The brush for scrubbing out the barrels was almost completely bald, but even so another application of the cleaner was enough to deal with years of dirt and carbon scoring in mere minutes. With an unlimited time frame and all the tools she would have at her disposal at Jackson, she could only imagine just how much she would be able to get it sparkling. But what she'd been able to do would more than suffice. The stock now shone like it had been freshly re-varnished. The barrels were actually so bright that they were borderline chromed and she had no doubt she might be able to bring them up to a mirror polish and see her face in them once she was back home. For now, she was more than satisfied.
Turning away from the workbench, she went to head towards the doorway. The door had been blown from its hinges with what looked like a stupid amount of explosives. Clearly the doors weren't up to the same standard on the upper floors. Either that or this door had been locked too and the guy she'd just found dead had used every ounce of explosive he had to get it open, unaware that he'd just alerted what seemed to be the only infected in the house. She could see the logic of both possibilities. The sturdier doors downstairs presented the best image to guests while a sturdier door on a room that had been full of guns and ammo would be beneficial. But it had proved no defence. Somehow, there had been a fire started in this room too. Most of the signs of fighting would have been erased. It was impossible to tell what had happened in the fire and what had been during the battle she now knew had ensued there.
As she left the room, she felt a considerable weight forming in her heart. The more she explored, the more she was finding out about this family. And the more she found out, the more she understood. This was a family that had been torn apart by a mix of spite and one man's pride. And that man was now paying for it; made to wander the halls of his home forever trapped in an infected hell while unable to escape the place where he'd damned his entire family. In a way, it was fitting. But now she was there. It was time for that sentence to end.
Forcing herself to stay focused, she headed to the opposite doorway. She could already see what she was about to find. This was the room above the kitchen. This was where the writing desk had 'fallen' from when she'd first started to venture around. The half of the room that hadn't collapsed was a burned-out husk. A glance told her there would be nothing of value in there, so she moved on to the next one. As soon as it opened, she was instantly blown away. This was clearly a lavish study. A room for personal contemplation where someone could bask in their own wealth. This was literally an example of how the other half lived. It was like evading a dragon and then stumbling into the chamber containing all of its treasure. And what was even more amazing was that it was all untouched. There was a grand piano in one corner, a lot of intricate furnishings and a desk set up at the front with a massive cup on it and a bottle of brandy next to it.
'How big a cup does one man need?' Ellie thought to herself as she approached and picked up the brandy. It was still about three quarters full and she decided that would be enough. Unlike the wine, brandy didn't go like glue in the adverse conditions. She quickly grabbed a long piece of rag from the craft room and uncorked the bottle, stuffing the edge of the rag in under it and re-corking it. That would come in handy. The desk was also laden with ammo, including a box with ten shotgun rounds in it. She quickly grabbed them and stuffed them into her pocket. She didn't have a weapon for the rest of it. As much as it hurt her, she couldn't take it. But then she noticed something under one of the ammo boxes that caught her eye. She moved it off and realised it was a dictaphone with a recording saved to it. She picked it up and hit the play button, readying herself for anything but also shielding the speaker with her hand in a hope not to be heard by the creature.
"God... My lord... My father... Grant me the power to save my family in this moment of need. I let my pride get in the way. I underestimated the numbers we would face. For that reason I deserve to pay the price. But please spare my family. I will offer my life in return for theirs. I will accept whatever punishment for my sin you deem fit and I will do so with open arms. My family warned me of this and I failed to listen. This fight is ours, but the punishment should be mine alone. Take me from my own and let the blood of others guide me home. I will serve as a son must serve, but let my family stand as I have shaped them. Let my children's lives be those of peace and prosperity. Let-"
"Samuel! They're coming!"
"I'm comin', Sara! Are you right with your maker, motherfuckers? As I am about to send you to him!"
The recording ended. Ellie let out a shaky breath as she realised she'd been wrong all along. This was no study. This was a chapel. The son- she remembered his name was Cain- had made mention of God in his note in the craft room. Now it was clear to her how devout the family- or at least the father- must have been. He'd even had a prayer space within the house. She didn't know whether a non-physical divine being existed or not. She'd have liked to believe there was something afterwards, if only to give relief to the dead. Something better for them after the hell they went through every day since the world descended into chaos. But there was one thing she knew for definite: asking for physical protection from a non-physical being doesn't work.
Swallowing her anger and frustration, she left the room. As she did, she flung the dictaphone away. She didn't want anything to do with it. There wasn't much she could think in that moment. Samuel had clearly been determined to continue their way of life even after the world collapsed around them. Whether he'd done it for Marlene or out of his own delusion she didn't know. It didn't matter. He and his family had paid the price all the same.
Just as she realised she'd let her guard down again, she heard a noise similar to a bloater's gurgling roar off to her left. Samuel was there and charging at her like a bull. Before she had time to react he hit her with the force of a freight train. She was picked up and flung through the open doorway off to her right at the end of the hall, her body bouncing like a ragdoll before skidding painfully to a stop at the end of the room. She picked herself up, pulling a large splinter of floorboard from her arm and flinging it away as she drew the shotgun. As she did, a weird sense of calm settled over her.
"You've been at my heels for too long, Samuel. This has to end now. Are you right with your maker, motherfucker? As I am about to send you to him."