February 19, 2004
It's been three days. Three long days since I lost Bethari to a bite. I've spent all of them alone, miserable, exhausted. My whole body aches constantly. Sharp pains randomly plague my abdomen, coming and going as quickly as they appeared. It terrifies me. The baby could come at any time, and I'd be helpless.
I haven't been able to escape this house. Every time I've attempted to venture outside, stray lurkers from the herd swarmed me. I peer out the window for what feels like hours at a time, just watching them wander around.
I managed to stay alive by scrounging together beef jerky, jello, saltine crackers, and stale cereal from the kitchen. Still, I am not going to be able to last in this house for much longer. I have to get out now, but I can't bear to leave Bethari's body to rot in that cold, dark, garage.
Outside the window, the majority of lurkers have disappeared into the trees. The outside of the house is the clearest it's been in days. I move quickly into the garage. I'm taken aback by seeing Bethari's sheet covered body on the dirty concrete floor.
I haven't looked at her since I left the garage after her passing. She's far too tall for me to even attempt to carry. There's an overturned wheelbarrow nearby. I push it upright with a grunt, careful to not let it fall back to the ground in a thunderous manner. Lifting her body is the hard part, both mentally and physically. I'm glad I covered her with a sheet, because I don't think I could look at her face. Not like this.
I position the wheelbarrow so that it is slightly tilted forward in hopes that it will make the physical portion of the task easier on me. I firmly plant my feet and position my arms under her abdomen and legs. Her body is so stiff, so cold, so dead. I nearly pull away after experiencing the desolate feel of her body. I push myself forward and try to lift her upward. Her body barely nudges so I try again, and again, and again. After several pitiful attempts, in which I worked up quite a sweat, I put everything I have into it. I impose a fierce grip on her body, and lift with my legs, just how my dad taught me all those years ago. Her body is lifted into the wheelbarrow roughly. I feel awful rolling the wheelbarrow outside, watching her body flop around with each bump. Outside, I'm met with a blinding sun that I haven't encountered in days. I'm able to get my first good look at the outside environment now that it is devoid of lurkers. Not even twenty feet away from the garage stands a tall oak tree, it's leaves withered and brown but still intact after the winter. Below it, the ground is disturbed. A tall pile of dirt lies at the tree's base. A deep, empty grave is situated under the tree's branches. How convenient, I think bitterly.
Next to the empty grave is another body wrapped in a white sheet. I can't see the person's face, but the top of the sheet is covered in dark reddish-brown blood stains. It leads me to believe that this person is the same person who I found evidence of being shot inside the house. It seems that whoever put this person down had prepared a grave, but was not able to follow through with the burial for whatever reason. Maybe they got chased off by a lurker, or maybe they became one of the lurkers who wander this area. I hope that I don't meet that same fate.
Titling the wheelbarrow forward and hoping that Bethari's body slides gently into the grave, I'm disheartened to see her body fall into the hole with a thud. I begin using the shovel that was stuck in the nearby dirt pile to cover Bethari's body until I can no longer see the dirty white fabric of the sheet. The other body beside the grave makes me feel guilty the whole time. I'm sorry I stole your grave.
I carefully sit down and lean my back and head against the tree, feeling it's rough bark against my scalp. Pain buds in my feet, back, and stomach, but that's nothing new. I want to stay and rest and give Bethari a proper funeral, but about a hundred yards away, several lurkers are emerging from the trees. I decide on a whim that I'm not going to hide in the house anymore. I'm going to travel back to the RV and salvage anything that I can. Then, hopefully, I will be able to find my family.
I ease off of the ground and reach for my backpack, which thankfully I brought outside with me. I turn around the side of the tree distracted by taking one last look at Bethari's grave. My distractedness costs me, and a lurker surprise attacks me, causing me to fall backward on the ground. The heavy-set lurker meets me on the ground. Its large stomach is split open and oozing organs and blood that's so dark it's nearly black. I'm able to plant my knife in its skull relatively quickly and easily, but not before its stomach bursts completely open. Intestines, kidneys, blood, a stomach, and what looks to be a spleen cover my own raised stomach, along with several organs that are so rotted and turned to mush that they are unidentifiable. The stench combined with the repulsive scene in front of me is enough to cause me to start retching. With the other lurkers fast approaching, I can't afford to stop and vomit. I try to hold my uneasy stomach together as best as I can, and I book it as fast as I can in the direction of the RV.
There's not very many lurkers on the way to the RV, and the ones that I do encounter are limbless or entangled in something and are not able to reach me. I ignore them because I don't have time to stop. When I reach the RV a considerable amount of time later, one thing catches my eye immediately. Nearby, Nick's hat lies on the ground. It's got a bit of dirt on it, but it doesn't look like it got trampled by the herd. It gives me hope. What if he lost his hat after the initial herd went through when we got separated? He could be alive and safe somewhere nearby! It does scare me a bit, though, that he would be willing to leave his hat behind. He loves this thing. Maybe another herd came through and he couldn't stop when it fell off?
I go up to the RV with Nick's hat now placed on top of my head. I pull the door open and-
It's empty.
Well, for the most part it is. Some food items, personal items, and all of the baby supplies are missing. It had to be them who took them all. Now that I know that they're alive, the question is where are they and why didn't they stay here?
The door to the RV swings open; I must've not gotten it closed all the way and the wind pulled it open. I take one last look around to make sure they didn't miss anything important, but they covered all the bases.
A lurker climbs through the doorway. I make a move for my knife, but I stop when the lurker seems to look right through me. It walks nearer and glances around, but continues to give no care to my presence. At first I think maybe this lurker is blind somehow, but then I realize. I reek. So do they.
I approach the stationary lurker cautiously, careful not to make any sudden movements. I try to mimic the slow shuffle-walk that I've seen so many of them do before. I hold my breath in fear when I get right up on the lurker, but to my surprise, I'm able to pass it as if I'm invisible.
Outside, the large herd has regrouped and returned larger than ever. I step into the sunlight and see all of the staggering corpses around me. The combination of my own stench mixed with theirs is overbearing, but I can't show any signs of it. I copy their movements, and fall into line in between two lurkers. It's terrifying at first, being in the middle of a three hundred lurker herd. But after a few minutes, I've already become accustomed to the groans of the dead, the slow moving swarm, the smell of rotting flesh. It's amazing how quickly humans can adapt when our lives depend on it.
My hope with following the herd is that I'm able to stay safe for as long as I need to, until I can find the right opportunity to escape and find my family.
I walk with the lurkers for hours. I've found no good opportunity to escape, but I need to quickly before I pass out from exhaustion.
I continue walking, focusing my attention on the same lurkers that have been around me for hours. I came up with names and stories for all of them. It seems stupid, but when you spend an entire day walking through a herd of lurkers, you have to find something to keep your mind occupied. The lurker in front of me has on a bright yellow vest, so I've decided that he was once a crossing guard. I named him Jeremy, after the crossing guard that used to work at my elementary school. The lurkers to my right are both wearing nice clothes, so I assume they were on a date when the world fell, presumably with each other. They have identical bites on their arms. I can tell that the woman used to have the most gorgeous auburn hair. Now, it is tarnished with blood and dirt. The lurker to my left used to be an older gentleman, and he wears a ripped mail carrier uniform. His cross-body bag of letters is still attached to his body, although most of the letters have fallen out by this point. The interesting thing about him compared to the others nearby, is that I don't see a bite on him. He has a large gash on his head that has since turned black. A decently sized piece of metal, possibly from a car accident, sticks out of his lower abdomen. I spent hours sneaking glances at his body, trying to find a bite, but I've since concluded that his bite must be obstructed by his mail bag.
I can barely see above Jeremy's head because he's so much taller than me, but I catch a glimpse of an ugly brown van that we are approaching. It's one of the few things that I've seen in the hours that we've been wandering. For the most part, the herd has only moved through the mostly empty forests, with the occasional abandoned campsite or cabin.
I don't pay any attention to the van, and I simply continue my best lurker impersonation. Once the van comes closer in my line of sight, I see a flash of movement inside of it. Maybe it's just a lurker that is trapped inside, or maybe my brain is just taking advantage of my exhaustion and is playing tricks on me. But a few steps later I see the movement again, and whatever is inside moving in there is definitely not undead. I mentally urge whoever it is to stop moving, so that my undead peers don't take notice of them.
I keep an eye on the van, making sure that whoever is inside doesn't make any mistakes that could cost them. Jeremy shuffles to the side a bit, giving me an unobstructed view of the van. I see a head peak over the bottom of the window sill. Fear and relief manage to swirl throughout my body at the same time.
It's Nick.
I start to formulate a plan in my head that I could use to get to them safely, but it will be difficult to do so without alerting the lurkers. But just as I can now see him, he can now see me.
He locks eyes with me and recognition instantly washes over his face. He begins to shake his head and he's mouthing what I imagine to be 'no, no, no, no.' The rest of his body rises above the window sill and he's starting to lose his cool. Seeing me staggering through the herd has made him think that I'm a lurker. I can't blame him. I look dead. But, his grieving could get him killed. Some of the lurkers around me start to show a little bit more awareness of their surroundings. Some of them glance around and sniff the air more than they have in hours, and it's making me nervous.
From what I can see, Nick is still expressing his grief. Luke pops up next to him to try and calm him, but he sees me too and falls into a fit of grief. He doesn't cry, but instead shakes his head and mouths something over and over just like Nick is. I have to get them to stop, and I have to do it fast.
To silence them, I steadily bring my finger to my lips. Shhhh…
They see me and do a double take, unsure if their eyes are deceiving them. The realization slowly hits their faces, stopping their appearance of grief and replacing it with an appearance of confusion. Thankfully, they slide back down below the window, so that I can only see Nick's face barely peeking through.
As Pete had suggested several days ago, the temperature was starting to drop. It has been getting colder, which has been a struggle all day. I've felt the decreasing temperature, but I've had to stop myself from shivering lest I would give my living status away to my undead peers. The cold will start to slow the lurkers down in a few hours, giving us time to get somewhere safely. But for now, I have to focus on getting to the van safely.
I slow my steps and start to let myself fall behind. The lurkers that had surrounded me all day continue on moving without another glance. More lurkers pass by me to advance with the rest of the herd. One bumps into me as it passes, causing me to stagger forward, but luckily I'm able to catch myself before I fall.
I can't look around too much, but from what I can tell, I am near the back of the herd. As I'm slowing my steps even more, I start to feel kicks in my stomach. The baby had been unusually quiet today, which was a blessing while walking with the herd. But now I am starting to feel some kicks, and they are not the nice littler flutters, but instead the painful ones. I try to shake it off, pretend it's not happening. But the pain just keeps coming and increasing in severity. The pain progresses into my stomach feeling like a coil that is tightening with every breath. I start to fear that the baby is coming.
Not now. Please, not now.
I can barely walk or stand, but I have at least a dozen lurkers that still need to pass by me. My hands grip my stomach in attempts to stop the pain and my face contorts into a twisted landscape of agony, but yet I cannot utter a noise. Nick can see me, and he catches on that I'm in pain and possibly in labor. He starts to fret again, but I discreetly shake my head to make him stop.
It takes a bit, but I finally make it to the back of the herd. I reach the van just as the back of the herd is heading over a hill. Inside of the van, Nick reaches for the door handle, but I shake my head and signal him to stop. The herd is still too close and could hear us, and we can't risk that. I remain outside and leaned against the chipping paint of the brown van. The pain slowly starts to subside until it dissipates into nothingness. I practice breathing to soothe myself until I can no longer hear or see the herd. Only then do I let the others open the van door.
The others tumble out of the vehicle and rush to my aid, surrounding me with voices of concern.
"Holy fuck! I thought you were dead!" Luke says, scrunching his nose in disgust when my stench hits him. "Fuck, you reek."
"Gee, I didn't notice," I mutter sarcastically.
"What happened to you?!" Nick kneels in front me, taking my face in his hands and brushing my cheeks tenderly with his thumbs.
"And Bethari…? Luke asks cautiously, taking note of me wearing Bethari's jacket. He likely already knows the end result of her story.
"Bethari got bit back at the RV. We made a run for it and ended up locked in a garage. She deteriorated fast, but I tried to make her as comfortable as possible. She couldn't put herself down, but…" I trail off for a minute, feeling sadness at reliving that recent trauma. "I killed her. She asked me to," I finish.
They sit in a stupor until Martha speaks up, "Bea, I'm so sorry you had to go through that."
"It's okay. I need some water or food or a change of clothes." My mouth has been a dessert all day, and my stomach has been an empty abyss. And of course my clothes smell like death.
Martha is the closest to the van so she shuffles through some bags to find stuff for me. The entire back of the van is stuffed full with supplies, which confirms my idea that they went back to the RV and collected all of our stuff.
"Are we just going to ignore that it looked like you just went into labor? Or the fact that you were just walking through a herd of lurkers like it was nothing?!" Nick asks in exasperation.
"I have no idea what was going on. I've been feeling those tight pains in my stomach for the past few days, but never as bad as that. Once I stopped moving and leaned against the van they quit and I feel fine now, well as fine as I can feel."
"Braxton-Hicks contractions," Martha says, handing me a bottle of water that I gulp down immediately. "They are a normal part of the third trimester, but stress and dehydration can cause them to occur more frequently and painfully. And I imagine you've faced a lot of stress and dehydration today, darling."
"Okay… That's great that you're not actually going into labor," Nick says, nodding his head. "Can you explain how and why you were just pretending to be a lurker back there?!"
"They operate with a sense of smell. If I smell like them, I am one of them. If you are covered in their guts they can't differentiate, so you can just walk right through them," I say.
"I don't even want to know how you figured that out," Luke says.
"Here's some clean clothes and your coat." Martha hands me one of my pairs of jeans and a different shirt as well as my own coat that I'd left back at the RV.
"There's a stream through the trees and right down that hill," Pete says, pointing in that direction. "You could maybe wash up a bit. The boys should probably collect some water as well for us to keep and boil later. It's gettin' cold and about to freeze. Might be the last chance we get to collect water for a while. Better not make too much noise, don't want to attract any unwanted attention."
"Here take this heavy bag off before you break your back," Nick says, forcing me to slide off my backpack. He takes it and hands it to Pete to put in the van. If my shoulders and back were a person, they would sigh in relief.
Nick and Luke lead me down to the ravine where the stream is, both of them remain close but are careful not to get too close and get guts on them. The ravine is peaceful. The stream trickles by, untouched from the despair that fills the world now. I even see a rabbit scamper across a log and over the stream. For a moment I feel true serenity, and then, the pain and sadness comes back. It always comes back.
"You okay?" Luke asks. "Well, as okay as you can be?"
"Yep," I say tight-lipped, knowing that if I say how I really feel I'll lose it. "I'm really sorry about Bethari. I wish I could've saved her. I know you liked her, but just know, she felt the same way."
"Yeah," he says, looking down sadly.
Nick finishes his task of collecting water into canisters. I step up to the stream and begin to take my clothes off, starting with Bethari's coat. I guiltily let it fall onto the muddy bank. I wish I could keep it, but there's no way we would be able to clean it. My shirt underneath is thankfully gut-free, but it is still smelly so I'm going to leave it with the coat on the muddy bank. I grip the hem of my shirt and start to lift it over my head.
"Uhh, ew." I hear Luke say while my vision is blocked by my shirt. When my shirt is completely off and my vision has returned, I see that Luke has turned around completely so that he doesn't have to see me change. Both Nick and I give a little snort at him.
I shimy out of my jeans and dump them on the pile of my other dirty clothes. In the pile of clean clothes that Martha gave me is a washcloth and a bar of soap. I make a mental note to thank her later; With how frazzled my brain is right now, I wouldn't have even thought of that.
Standing in only my bra and underwear, I do a quick scrub of my body. The water is teeth-chattering cold when it hits my skin, but I'm thankful to be able to clean myself a bit. I use the wash cloth to dry myself off before hurriedly redressing myself in clean clothes. By the time I'm done, I feel like I'm frozen solid from the frigid air. Nick envelopes me in a hug to warm me up. It doesn't do much to provide any actual warmth, but it does provide a sense of security, so I happily let it happen.
Luke finally turns to face me, and the three of us venture back to the van. We clammer into the van. Pete of course resumes his spot in the driver's seat. Luke sits in the passenger seat with a semi-ripped up map in hand, ready to provide directions as best as he can. The third row of the van is stuffed full of supplies, so Nick, Martha, and I are forced to squish ourselves in the second row of seating, with me sitting in between them.
"How'd you guys manage to pick out the most hideous vehicle ever?" I ask.
"The Cadillac dealership unfortunately wasn't open," Pete jokes back. He starts up the engine and slowly starts us in motion.
I'm provided with an unopened, full box of cereal, which quickly becomes an empty box of cereal. I lean back, exhausted, but finally content with having a full stomach. Somebody else must be too, because I feel little flutters.
"I was so worried, but I just knew you weren't dead. I just knew it," Nick says. "Not many people could make it out of something like that, but I knew you could."
I give him a small, sleepy smile.
"I'm just so glad to have you back. Both of you." He places his hand on my stomach.
"Here's this back by the way. Try not to drop it next time," I say, winking at him and removing his hat from my head and placing it on his.
He starts to say something else, but I don't hear him. I fall into an uncomfortable but much needed sleep against his shoulder.
March 25, 2004
The sun sits low over the horizon, orange and pink swirls surrounding it. The one thing about the end of the world that no one talks about is how nature keeps its beauty.
I try to focus on the beautiful sunset outside instead of the negative matters of my current situation. I'm able to do a pretty good job until Pete accidentally drives over a pothole. My head that had been resting against the window is slammed into the side of the van harshly. I groan and hold my head in my hands. It hurts, but I shake it off. I've experienced much worse.
"Hey, what the hell?" A very agitated Nick grumbles. He had previously been dozing off with his head against my shoulder.
"You don't like my driving? Fine, you take over!" Pete snaps back.
"Fine, I will if you would pull over!"
"Would you stop it, you two?" Martha groans.
I stay silent while the three of them start to squabble. The past month I've learned to just leave it be when stuff like this happens, and it happens a lot. Being cooped up in the van for so long has caused everyone to get a little cranky, but Nick has been the most agitated out of anyone. Thankfully he hasn't taken it out on me, but I'm afraid the others have taken the brunt of his frustration.
I listen to them squabble as the sun sets lower and lower. The sun is nearly completely gone when we come across a large steel-grey building off the side of the road. It's surrounded by a few delivery trucks and of course several corpses. I can tell that it once had a sign in front of it that has since been run over and covered in mud, so I'm unable to see what this building was used for.
"This could maybe be somewhere we could stay," Nick says, peering out the window like all of us.
"In the morning we'll check it out and see if it'll work. Until then, we can wait the evening out in the van," Pete says.
The thought of finding somewhere safe and permanent to stay is enthralling. Over the past month, we've tried to make a home in many different places, every one failing one way or another. Sleeping in the van has not only made everyone cranky, but it has introduced additional physical pain for me on top of the pain I already had. I haven't had a good night's rest in so long, and I can't remember the last day I haven't had one part of my body not aching.
"I'm not spending another night in this fucking van," Nick starts. "We're going in there tonight."
"It's a big place. It'll take a long time to clear it out, and it's already dark-"
"We're going. Now," Nick cuts Pete off and begins getting himself ready to go.
"Does no one remember the last time any of us went inside a huge factory?" I bring up in exasperation. The last time we did something like this, I had to kill my own parents. I can't bear to have something like that happen again.
Nick's face softens from its previous hardened look upon realizing. He tenderly takes my hand and soothes my concerns, although I still have that nagging fear in the back of my head. "We'll be extremely careful."
There's some sighs around the van, but everyone starts to get ready. I ready myself too, slowly bending over to put my shoes on.
"What are you doing?" Nick asks, staring at me with a perplexed appearance.
"Putting my shoes on?" I say as it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"You can't seriously be thinking about going in there?"
"Uhh… yeah?"
"Bea, you're eight months pregnant. You're not going in there," Nick says firmly.
"What? So I'm just supposed to sit around out here?"
"Exactly. Maybe lie down and actually get some rest," he suggests.
I begrudgingly agree and grab a blanket from the back of the van. I make the others promise to be careful, one by one as they exit the van. Eventually, Luke is the only one remaining in the van with me.
"I know you don't really want to talk about it, but after everything with Mom and Dad and Bethari, I just want to make sure you're okay," Luke says.
He's trying to look me in the eye, but I look away from him. Everyone has been trying to get me to talk through my trauma. But every time it's brought up, I shy away from the conversation. My original life goal was to be a psychiatrist, so I know better than anyone that talking through your emotions is important. I just can't seem to follow my own advice. Right now, it seems easier to just push aside my grief.
I give him my best fake smile, trying to convince him that I'm okay. "Luke, I've told you a hundred times that I'm fine."
He stares at me, not looking convinced.
"I just don't want to kill anymore, but I know I'll have to, and the thought sickens me," I add as an afterthought.
He reaches into the back seat to pat my knee. "We're gonna clear this place out, okay? And then we'll have a place to stay and everything is going to be okay."
He hops out of the van without another word. I watch the four of them disappear around the side of the building, repeating the words Luke just said in my head. Everything is going to be okay.
"Please don't let me down, Luke," I mumble.
I lie down in the backseat, trying to make myself as comfortable as possible. I highly doubt that I'll be able to fall asleep with all my worries about what's going on inside the factory. I stare at the vibrant checkered pattern on my blanket, trying to push my worries aside. Somehow, I miraculously fall asleep.
I wake up who knows how long later. The sky is completely black outside, the only illumination coming from the tiny sliver of the moon. I could've been asleep for thirty minutes or five hours-I have no idea which. Worries fill my head again. Where is everyone? Shouldn't they be back by now?
A knock at the window catches me off guard and nearly makes me jump out of my skin. I'm thrilled to find a beaming Nick outside once I open the door. "You can't believe how lucky we are right now!"
"What?" I ask, still disorientated from waking up only moments ago. "I dozed off… How long were you in there?"
"Well over an hour," Pete answers. "It's a huge place. Took us a while to check it thoroughly, and drag the bodies out. But believe me, it was well worth it."
"Bea, we hit the goldmine with this place. You'll just have to see it for yourself," Nick says.
We grab our most essential bags to bring inside tonight. The other supplies can wait until morning, but I'm sure to grab my maroon backpack.
They lead me around the building to the most accessible entrance. Martha takes down a lurker that staggers around the corner. They push open the door for the big reveal.
When I step inside with my lantern in hand, I'm astounded. There are some rooms to the side, but it's mostly an open area with some workbenches and machinery. The most impressive part is that there are hundreds of mattresses stacked on top of each other, brand new and wrapped in plastic.
"A mattress factory?" I ask with a smile.
"A mattress factory." Nick smiles back.
And for once, even for a split second, the worries in my head truly fade away.