Survivors

Chapter 3

1019

August 17, 2011

            “Alright ladies and gentlemen, let’s make this run, and get back quickly, okay?” Mark shouts out, pulling me to reality again. For the past hour I have half consciously gotten ready for this run, but alternately trapped the other half in the events that took place in the upstairs hall. I realize that I am now sitting on the old couch that is rarely ever used anymore, staring at the front door, loading up magazines with bullets. “STEVEN YOU ARE FUCKING DEAD! YOU ARE DEAD! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU HERE!?” The thought continues to echo. “K, you good?”

            I snap back again, realizing in the few moments since Mark spoke, I fell back into my world. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I reply, trying to ease my thoughts, taking in my surroundings. There is a torn up, suede sectional couch, the same one I am sitting on now. There is also a loveseat sitting at a right angle to the other side of the couch, parallel to me, with a very clutter ridden black wooden coffee table in between the two pieces of furniture. On the coffee table are piles of maps of the city and the nearby campus, the University of Louisville, old bus routes, and some miscellaneous ones drawn up marking out meeting areas and danger zones. There are also several knives, machetes, and hatchets, 3 handguns, a shotgun, an old hunting rifle, and a pile of ammunition, all of the weapons we have excluding the pistols Cathy and I always carry with us, Cathy’s customized knife, and Mark’s .45 Revolver. There are 2 doors leading further into the house, one heads to the kitchen and one into the dining room. The room around me is dully illuminated, the only light seeping in from cracks in the boarded up windows. There are 3 in the room, two by the door, one on either side, and one on the right wall. The window to the left of the door was missing one board which we tore off to scan the terrain before runs, a precaution we took after a wild dog got the jump on Mark as we were walking out.

            “You sure? If you need to stay you can man.” Mark whispers, as if to hide the statement from the others, despite the fact that they all can hear us. I glance at Cathy, whom is standing with her back to me, glancing out of the mostly boarded up window to the left of the door with a pistol in her hand, and the knife in a sheath on her hip. I see her eyes glances at the reflection of me then snap back to examining the landscape outside when we make eye contact. My eyes then wander to Jack. I watch him snatch his favorite knife and shove it into the sheathe on his thigh, pick up and examine one of the pistols, grab a few magazines I’ve loaded and walk to the other side of the door, placing his hand on the brass doorknob, ready to release us to the next adventure. Whether he is avoiding any attempt to make contact with me or not, I can’t tell. Then I look at Becca, the only one who isn’t afraid to look at me. She locks eyes with me, and we become stuck in a showdown, neither wanting to release contact. She appears to peer into my soul. If anything happens to her, I will never forgive myself.

            “Yeah, I’m fine.” I look back at Mark and repeat that answer. I am going, no phantom Darkseeker… no… no phantom Steven is going to allow me to let Becca get into harm’s way without me. Mark looks me in the eyes, switching from left to right and back, then nods when he confirms that I am again conscious of the real world. Becca walks over to the table and picks up a knife and pistol as well as a few magazines, readies herself and walks to stand behind Jack. Mark grabs and sheathes a large machete across his back, a knife with a blade the size of my hand on his thigh, and another smaller knife across his chest, handle facing down. He then grabs a handful of bullets and loads them into a pocket on his tactical vest. I stand up, grab a knife and sheathe it onto my hip, grab a few magazines, and watch Mark nod to Jack.

            Jack’s hand slowly turns the doorknob. I hear the brass knob rattle and click as it reaches its maximum point clockwise, and watch the light stream in from the doorway as Jack pulls the door towards himself. Cathy walks out, her handgun raised, Mark follows, then Becca, myself, ending with Jack, who closes the door behind him. We begin to walk down the car cluttered street, keeping this single file line. I examine the vegetation overwhelming the street, crawling from the cracks in the sidewalks, and inhabiting the empty cars. I always think of it as a sentient being, slowly growing, wishing to consume us with the rest of the city. It is a terrifying thought, the thought that it wasn’t just the Darkseekers and animals that wanted to consume us, but the Earth itself as well. We pass house after house, our safe house becoming more and more distant.

            I begin to recollect where we are going. There is a Walmart about 40 minutes from the house. With the mission yesterday failing utterly, and the lack of provisions we were able to acquire, we realized that we needed to head out again and try to get food, or else we’ll just end up starving. The last of our food is dwindling as it is, a measly three boxes of Ramen Noodles, two boxes of Mac and Cheese, a couple cans of Vienna sausage, and a few cans of mixed vegetables. Our water is miniscule. We need this run. I begin to plan out what our course of action will be, and if an emergency were to come up, what we would do. I then think of the plans from yesterday. “…to grab his head and slam it against the floor over and over again…” I begin to imagine that scene… Steve’s limp body being abused repetitively… His cries of pain… his torturer –executor –murderer... ‘Stop it!’ I think to myself. I need to focus on the mission! It will not happen again!

            I look up and see a worried face glancing back at me. I smile at Becca, and she slightly smirks back, then looks forward again. I need to stop and focus. I need to make sure I get them in and out in one piece. If I die, I at least need to make sure they survive. I glance around, and by the position of the sun can guess we’ve been walking for about 20 minutes. Everything seems the same as early, except with the inclusion of a small pack of deer standing around, watching us walk by. I grin and say, “Hey Becca, can I shoot?” She shoots me an evil glance, then looks at the deer and starts to whine.

            “Kel, they aren’t doing anything to you! Leave them alone!” I can’t help but laugh slightly. Even with us all starving, she is more worried about the deer. Silly, silly Becca. Mark finds humor in this, as he chuckles slightly. Jack doesn’t get it, no surprise there. And Cathy seems to ignore it. I realize that we made time, because we are almost at the intersection before the Walmart, and it is only about 10 minutes away at this pace. It’s been a good day so far, maybe our luck will turn around. I smile at the thought and after a few minutes I see a large sign in the distance, marking our destination.

            Cathy quickens her step, beginning to jog, and everyone follows behind, guns ready, prepared for anything. We hit the parking lot, semi-filled with cars, and form a half circle facing the store, with me in the middle. I glance at my watch, 11:03. Everyone looks at me, and I begin to relay the plan set in mind, positive that nothing will turn out the way it did the previous day. “Mark, you and Jack make a quick sweep of the interior, and if it’s clear report back. Then I need you to cover exits, if anything seems out of the ordinary during the run, alarm us and secure escape routes. Jack, when you get back, you and Cathy are gathering food and water, only essentials, if you have extra room or decide you want to treat us, be smart about it. Becca, you and I are going to look for toiletries, miscellaneous goods, and random stuff we’ve needed around the house for fortifications and general comfort. Get in and get out. Alright?” I say, watching the respective nods as I delegate orders. Everyone seems jumpy, as they should due to the incident yesterday. This should put us enough on the edge to keep injuries low, time lost slim, and any casualties’ non-existent.

            Mark and Jack head into the store, lights on and guns raised. We wait around, ready to run to aid them at the faintest hint. I begin to ponder the possible outcomes of the day, and start worrying myself, but soon enough I snap out of it. I look at my watch again. 11:15. They should be out by now… I look at Cathy, whom must also be thinking the same thing. I shift my weight from foot to foot… they should be back! My mind starts racing and my heart jumps in as well. Oh god… What happened?! Where are they!?

            I step towards the building and prepare to run, then I see him. Mark jogs out leisurely, calls out for us, and turns back towards the front doors. I sigh. Thank God they’re alright, but where is Jack? Eh. He’s probably doing whatever it is Jack’s do at this point of the trip. I nod to Cathy, and take Becca’s hand. We all jog to the building, enter, and move to our designated locations. Mission is go.