AN: Hey there, sorry for taking so long to get this out. Dealing with some personal stuff and I ended up rewriting this three time. I feel more confident in posting this now, but the next chapter is still in revision and will likely be a while before it comes out.
April 18th, 2010. North Dakota.
"So that's two thousand, six hundred, and three cans of spam" I spoke slowly, writing the number down on the clipboard. "That's two thousand, six hundred, and three cans of crap that no one will ever eat." I glanced to my canine companion sitting nearby. She cocked her head, looking at me questioningly. "I don't even want to know what's in it if a dog wont even touch it" I pursed my lips, scrolling through a mental checklist looking for a less mind numbing task. As my eyes rested again on my furred friend, my mind replaced her current image with that of the bag of bones I had discovered guarding her owner's corpse.
February 5th, 2010. North Dakota.
Having navigated through some cramped tunnels,I opened yet another heavy door and emerged into what appeared to be a basement. It didn't smell musty, but it sure was dusty - and surprisingly warm. I moved slowly, not only cautious but somewhat in pain - the hunter had gotten quite a few swipes in before I escaped, my quick patch up in the darkness of the tunnels would only hold me for a while. Without any apparent signs of life, I pushed on, carefully exploring each room, flicking my flashlight into every corner. In the quiet, I thought I could hear a slight humming. Seeking it out, the closer I became the more it sounded like an engine. Cautiously, I peered behind another door and discovered a series of machines. After assuring no one was inside I investigated further. Turns out it was the boiler room, I allowed myself a few minutes to warm up next to it before moving on. A short while later and I'd discovered a set of stairs heading up into a ground level floor. I still wasn't sure what this place was, but by the size of the pantry and armory, I would place my bets on this being a bunker.
As I tiptoed up the stairs, thankful that they didn't creak, I was hit with the heavy smell of decaying flesh - something I'd become all to accustomed to these past few months. Opening the door slowly, I heard a slight jingle, like the clinking of small metal objects. Bracing for attack, I held painstakingly still for a couple of minutes before finally relaxing my stance. Stepped out into the main floor, I glanced around at the strange configuration of the room. As I tried to navigate my way around the house towards the smell, I noticed a layer of dust on everything. There was no signs of disturbance in it, but I wouldn't let my guard down just yet. Nearing the source of the smell, I also caught the scent of feces and urine.
"Oh my god..." I gasped, finally dropping my guard as I peered around the corner and discovered the house's occupants. On the floor, laying on his side and facing away, was the partially decayed body of an elderly man in military fatigues. From the look of the scene, it was apparent he had hit his head on the coffee table. 'Watching all that CSI actually paid off' I thought to myself before my eyes drew me back to what was in front of me. Still more disturbing was the sight of the living occupant. That image of that dog, who was nothing more than skin and bones, faithfully guarding the corpse of her fallen master, was one I knew would be burned into my memories for life.
Looking her over I assessed her as best I could, the vet (in training) taking over. She looked to be a dark sable shepherd, I'd say German shepherd from the build, colour and bone structure - of which was grossly evident. Despite her long fur I could see just about every bone in her body. There was little meat clinging to her frame, and I could see sores from laying down so long. This wasn't the worst case of starvation I'd seen, but it wouldn't be much longer before her organs start shutting down. Taking a moment, I wracked my brain for all the relevant information that I could think of. 'Remember your training, Madison. First thing is to get fluids into her, I highly doubt this place has what I'd need... that means a trip into town...' I thought it over, weighing the risks of a trip back. There was a snowmachine in the garage near the tunnel shed, I'd watched my father drive one during a family vacation so at least I had an 'idea' of how to use it. I realized then that I'd already made up my mind, there was no way I'd let this animal die without at least trying - even if it meant risking my life.
Before I'd tackle such a journey, I wanted to remove the body before it decayed further. As I soon discovered, the dog had enough energy left in her body to defend her owner's corpse. Slinking off to another room to nurse my newly inflicted bites, I quickly reconsidered that plan of action. "At least she still has some fight in her," I growled, flinching as I cleaned the still stinging wounds "damn she got me good". Wrapping my left arm up, and thanking my swift reaction of throwing up my non dominant arm up to defend myself. I'd tried and failed to shoot or hit effectively with my left after a witch slashed my right. Rubbing my face with my right hand, I knew that I'd have to gather everything I needed first before attempting to remove the body again. Groaning, I sorely wished I could just relax inside this warm place and sleep for a week already - but knowing my conscience would keep me awake anyways I decided to get ready for the trip.
After I'd familiarized myself with the bunker's layout I donned some winter gear, wearing two more layers under as my sun-kissed self was completely unprepared for the drastic climate difference here compared to Cali. I still don't know how the hell I made it out of Montana without freezing to death. I shuddered, not at the cold, but at the memories of just what had happened in that godforsaken CEDA compound. Shaking my head, I dispelled the negative thoughts to focus on the task at hand. I had a dog to save and a long, dangerous trip back to town to make. Good thing it was just after sunrise, I would hopefully return before dark, else I'd be spending the night in town with the infecteds - and that was not something I was up for. I'd seen enough of those to last me till spring.
By the time I'd driven the snowmachine back into the garage and locked out the infecteds, that I wasn't too sure that I'd lost back in the deep snow, the sun had been replaced by a full moon. Thankfully it, combined with the headlight that took an embarrassing ten minutes to figure out how to turn on, was enough to find my way back. Sliding the supply-heavy backpack off my shoulders, I dragged it over to the trapdoor that covered the entrance to the tunnel system. A pounding on the garage doors signaled that I needed to get on the move. Lowering the pack carefully into the tunnel, I followed suit and pulled the trapdoor down with me - locking it in place with some heavy bolts. It was made of solid oak, something you rarely saw these days, and had heavy metal slide locks that were a tad overkill. The screech of a hunter quickly made me amend that statement - it's a good thing they're on it, cause with those specials kicking around there is no such thing as overkill. 'Damn it I bet it's the same one, probably still pissed that I got away!' Lugging the pack back onto my shoulders, I opened a heavy door - the first of many along the tunnel. This was going to b a long walk.
About fifteen minutes later I huffed and puffed my way up the stairs and headed to the kitchen, avoiding the living room where the dog and man lay. I dropping the bag onto the table and collapsed into the nearest chair. It took a few minutes but eventually I mustered the energy to inspect myself for any injuries - and to check on the bite's dressing. A handful of cuts, scrapes and bruises - all to be expected in this new life of running for your life from zomb-'Infecteds' I sharply corrected myself. Zombies implied the living dead out to eat brains - but these were all still living, breathing people, their bodies ravaged by a mutated rabies virus. As I my mind flashed images of my step-mother and brother's mutated forms, I felt tears escape. Once they started falling, they just kept coming. I shook, crying for the first time in months. "I'm all alone and everyone I know is either dead or infected! Why am I still fighting to live? What the hell is there to live for!" I shouted, slamming my fists on the table.
A gentle woof from the living room reminded me that I wasn't alone, and that there was someone who needed me. That thought finally stopped the tears. "Yea yea, I'm coming. You'd better not bite me this time..."
Jerking back to reality as I felt something brush my hand, glancing down Kylah nudged my hand again. Then I realized I had been staring at the wall of spam cans for five minutes. "Geezus, that's the fourth time today I've zoned out like that," I grumbled to myself. I ruffled my short, blonde hair in frustration, and groused, "I need to do something more productive than inventory!" Tossing the clipboard onto the nearest pile of cans I stomped off with Kylah following close behind.
When the hell did I become so irritable? I felt the need to splash some water on my face and cool my head. Not bothering with the bathroom in the basement, and deciding it was time to get started on supper anyways, I climbed the staircase and held the door open until Kylah was clear. Closing it, I locked it up - just in case something found it's way in the same way I had, even with the many barriers in the tunnels. No such thing as too safe, right? I still couldn't believe it when I crawl into that trapdoor in that old shack, narrowly escaping the hunter that was trying to finish me off, that I'd just hit the ultimate survival jackpot. A war-ready bunker, off the grid and far enough off the beaten track to minimize the amount of infected finding their way here - yet close enough to get supplies from town if needed.
Pausing near one of the windows, the metal panel removed to let the afternoon light in, I slid the glass to the side and drew in a breath of the crispy spring air. It's still chilly out - at least for me, being from So Cal after all - the April showers were keeping things from warming up much. The rare time the sun comes out I take the risk of uncovering the windows, even opening them. I learned quickly not to leave them uncovered for too long, I don't like being watched and having infected pounding at the bullet proof glass through the bars. Standing in front of the window my eyes automatically darted from shadow to shadow, scanning the trees sheltering the compound. With no movement visible, I moved to leave, only stopping when I caught my reflection in the window.
When I'd arrived here my grey-blue eyes looked so dull, shadowed by deep bags from trying to survive after escaping the CEDA compound in Montana - in the middle of winter. Those bags had all but retreated - sleep, food and a sense of security having done me good. The look my reflection returned told another story. I looked tense, jumpy, and stressed. Things had been going well all month - almost too well. Even before the outbreak, life rarely went so smoothly. There always has to be a balance of the good and bad, an equivalent exchange if you will. In my gut I had that feeling that shit was about to hit my fan and I didn't like it one bit.
I chewed my cheek as the worries and what ifs made themselves known. The voices soon silenced by a wet tongue on my hand - at least for the time being. Sighing, I rubbed Kylah's ears, earning me a happy grumble. "What's wrong with me girl, I just keep zoning out at the drop of a hat..." I whispered for no reason. She whined softly, nuzzling my hand so I would keep petting her. Smiling, I gave her one last pat on the head before heading towards the kitchen.
While not a very big floor plan, the layout is strange. The bedroom is in the center of the structure, forcing the rest of the rooms to the sides. It was also very closed off, with heavy pocket doors between all rooms. The previous owner was obviously paranoid - the bunker alone enough evidence -and I think it was beginning to rub off. If I didn't get some real, human company soon, I think I may go stir crazy. Though, the idea of inviting someone that may be unstable or violent into an oasis like this was a chilling thought. Finally making it to the kitchen, I took out some of the venison I had marinating in the fridge - Kylah audibly licking her chaps in approval. "Sorry Kylah, but you don't quite meet all my needs for interaction and socialization. I love you, but I need a human friend!" I chuckled, tossing her a piece of grisly meat - which she happily scarfed down.
Humming to myself while I cooked, I allowed my thoughts to wander to the future. I was sorely missing fresh vegetables and fruits, something was missing from the canned variety. I needed to weigh the risks of making a garden outside and see what materials I'd need to do it. There was a fenced in run for Kylah with a specialized door into the house, I pondered the pros and cons of extending it for a garden on one side. There is a room full of extra supplies and tools downstairs, it's possible more fencing and poles might be hidden there. I yelped loudly as I accidentally brushed my hand on the hot pan in front of me. Setting the pan aside with my good hand, I quickly ran some cool water and inspected the burn.
"Damn damn dammit! What is wrong with me, I'm never this air headed!" I shouted, my temper starting to flare as my hand throbbed painfully. Kylah whimpered slightly, not used to me getting riled up like this. Ignoring my slowly cooling food, I roughly grabbed the med kit down from one of the upper cupboards and tossed it on the counter. Not used to doing things explicitly with my left, I had to fight with the pack to get the zipper open. Just like that an emotional volcano erupted. I whipped the med pack across the kitchen, screaming and cussing as anger, stress and frustration overwhelmed me. After a few minutes this I sank to my quivering knees, gasping between sobs as I shook like a leaf. With the volatile emotions out of the way, the more easily suppressed emotions surfaced. A month's worth of terror, desperation, heartache and pain burst through the walls I'd put up.
I cried. I cried for the people I loved, the people I'd been forced to experiment on, the people turned into monsters, the man whose faithful dog stayed with him long after he'd passed, and for myself and the life I lost when the outbreak occurred. But most of all I cried for humanity - what lay ahead for civilization now that most of the population was infected? Some how I just knew it had to have spread well beyond North America by now. It was an unstoppable force that seemed to have a mind of its own, it wouldn't be satisfied until the world fell to it. It would never be over till every last person was dead or infected. No cure would be found - even if it were possible, all of the people infected are too mutated to be saved. Everything felt so hopeless, what was I trying to survive for?