Two Summers Ago, the World Went to Shit

Chapter 20: Bleed

Chapter 20: Bleed

Later that night, everyone in our group played board games, ate some slightly stale s'mores over a fire outside of Bailey's house, and told stories from before the apocalypse. We had a genuinely pleasant and fun time with everyone. It was a much-needed night compared to all the others we'd had lately. For a little while, things almost felt normal.
Bailey's home was run off well water, so one positive thing that came from being here was the ability to use the shower, a cold shower, but a shower, nonetheless. We'd all gotten cleaned up, and Bailey gave some fresh clothes to Caleb and Jackson. The guys searched a few houses nearby and were able to find us girls some clean clothes as well. We felt much better and were all in a much better mindset.
I'd been trying to keep my mind busy because that was the only way I'd be able to brave through the withdrawals I was already anticipating. I was worried that no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn't be able to quit cold turkey, but there weren't many options for me at this point. It wasn't like I could find fentanyl and ketamine just lying around these days. And my skin was already crawling to preface this downward spiral.
I was uncomfortable just from the beginnings of this detox, but I tried to mask any evidence from the others sitting around me this morning.
"Before everything went to hell, I had a friend of mine take an internship at the University of Missouri. He raved about how they had one of the best laboratories for infectious diseases. We're about six or so hours from there I believe. Might be worth looking into," Lola said as we sat at the dining room table eating stale, dry cereal.
I looked around to see what the others thought about her idea, and it seemed like they were on board. I think our initial plan was Harvard, but this other place seemed like it would be more equipped to focus on this pandemic. Bailey had what seemed like a hopeful expression for the first time in a while. I didn't want to get my hopes up, but it was almost within reach. It wasn't completely out of the scope of realistic solutions and possibilities. They all turned to me for my response, but as I prepared to answer, I went back to that dark, cold place where only me and the zombies resided. This was now my third time falling into this alternate headspace, and it still didn't get any easier. I always ended up feeling scared and alone. I wondered how I looked to the others when I did this.
"Does that sound good, Sammi," Caleb asked as my eyes stared blankly straight past him.
     The others looked concerned at first, but I think they started to realize I was somewhere else. The first two times I'd transitioned to what I'll refer to as dark reality, I'd been in the presence of zombies, so I was never really alone here. I was accompanied by others who'd ultimately had the fate I'd been given. I was never here long enough to get answers; it was always an unsettling sense of urgency from them pleading for me to leave and get back to reality.
     This time, however, I was all alone because prior to this, it was just me and the people in my group who weren't apart of this secret society. The seats at the dining room table once filled by those I loved were now empty. The natural light beaming in through the windows was dimmer and eerie. I didn't like being alone, never have, so I stood up from the table and walked out of the front door of the house eager to find a zombie nearby for me to question. I knew it'd probably startle the others for me to just up and leave, but by now they had to have known where my mind was. I just hoped they trusted my instincts.
"Sammi? Sammi," Caleb asked as he watched me leave without a word.
When I stepped outside, I looked in both directions hoping I'd see someone or something wandering around, but it was still just an empty neighborhood. I was nearly turning circles trying to manifest an encounter, but it was useless; there was obviously nothing here. Finally, I decided to call out thinking maybe I could attract one to my noise. It was reckless, but I was desperate.
"Hello? Is anyone out there? I need help," I yelled.
Several minutes passed as I began walking towards the end of the sidewalk.
"Anyone, please, help me!"
Still, nothing.
I took a left onto the road that separated more houses and began running, not towards anything in particular, just in that direction hoping there would be something for me to go by. I wasn't sure how long I would stay in this dark reality, but I needed to find someone quickly before I found myself back with the others. I needed answers, and I was determined to get some.
"Hello," I called out once more cupping my hands around my mouth to amplify my voice.
Suddenly something startled the small group of birds settled in a nearby tree sending them out into the sky away from me.
"You're going to wake up the entire city if you keep that up," an unfamiliar voice said from behind me.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do," I said turning towards them.
It was a younger guy, around my age, walking over to me.
"So, what's up," he asked casually.
"Aren't you going to tell me to leave, that it's not safe or something," I asked sarcastically, crossing my arms.
"Ah, I could, but I'm sure you know that by now," he said, now several feet away from me.
     I know this is going to sound... strange, bizarre, or crazy, but he made me feel comfortable here. Just the way he spoke and carried himself was warming and honest. He had blonde hair with piercing blue eyes and a demeanor that housed a calmness that I needed—a nice change from the previous exchanges I'd had here. I think the panic from the women I'd spoken to the first times gave me an uneasy feeling, but this guy, he made it a lot less haunting. I needed that right now.
"How can you tell," I asked.
"You're looking for one of us. You have questions—it's normal," he said shrugging his shoulders.
"Are there others like me?"
"Not many, but there have been a few here and there."
"So, what can you tell me? How long do I have left before I turn? How do I go back to reality?"
"Woah, slow down, we've got time," he said nonchalantly.
I furrowed my brows in confusion.
"Time? You know how long I'll be here?"
"I mean there's not necessarily a clock counting down, but I can tell that you'll be here longer than you probably have been before."
"Okay, so what is this? Is this the other side," I said jokingly.
He chuckled.
"I guess you could call it something like that. It's only where zombies are, not all dead people. This isn't heaven or hell. As long as the zombie version of yourself is alive you have the ability to be here," he said.
"So, how do I get here?"
"It's not really up to you. It just kind of happens."
"I'm gonna need you to elaborate," I said calmly, raising my eyebrows.
"Well, the infection is affecting the parts of your brain that have the ability to temporarily shut down your real, conscious mind. You're essentially brain dead while you're here. It's slowly killing you. That's why we tell you to leave—the longer you're here, the more damage is being done to your brain and organs."
"What causes my body to start doing this? Is there a trigger?"
"I don't really know. I think it's almost like a seizure, a really long seizure," he said as his words drifted with his thoughts.
"Did you get murdered after the injection or did you die from the injection after the fact," I asked curiously.
"I was murdered, but not by the soldiers that were murdering everyone else."
I looked at him worriedly.
"Who murdered you?"
"I lived in this neighborhood with my wife and son. We did everything we could to survive. I did everything I could to protect them, but there was a group of these psychopathic people prowling around the area looking for others to steal from and torment. They showed up to my home and killed me and my wife even after we did everything they asked of us," he said frowning.
"That's terrible. I'm so sorry," I said sympathetically.
"The apocalypse made people crazy. Or maybe they were crazy before and now there's no one to stop them from acting on their malicious desires," he said staring, not even blinking, as if he were in deep thought.
"Did you know you had the injection before you died?"
"I had a suspicion. I never came to here. But, I was always one of those people who believed the government was conspiring against us. When I first found out about the zombies, I just had this gut feeling that they'd done something to us. After I died, it took me a while to figure out what this was, who I was, where I was. It took finding people like you and others like me to put all of the pieces together."
"It's a big puzzle to try and solve. This is all so confusing. I didn't know what this was either until recently. I've only been here three times, but I know the more I come, the less time I have with my family."
"Yeah, I think the worst part of all of this is not having my wife here with me. She didn't have the injection. She just... died," he said sadly.
"Now I feel so alone, roaming the streets as one of the things I never wanted to be with strangers just like me."
     My mind started wandering to many different places. I still had questions for him, but I just didn't even know where to start. I'd already been in this dark reality for longer than I ever have, so I was worried I was running out of time.
"Can you tell me if there's a cure? Can I survive this?"
"It's not that simple. Nothing nowadays is," he said calmly.
"I have a daughter. I need to survive for her. Can I survive this," I said with a stern tone.
"Well, they said cancer was incurable for a long time, but there were loopholes. Chemotherapy, radiation, they've done miraculous things to people with incurable illnesses. Everything has a loophole, you just have to get creative, Sammi," he began.
"What is my loophole," I asked, begging for an answer to take back with me.
"You've already got," he began before he collapsed to the ground.
"No," I screamed as I dropped down to my knees, tears streaming down my face.
"No," I said once again as the world around me grew brighter, spinning around me.
I'd returned back to my conscious mind that carried the same sadness of my connection to the other side being dead. When I turned to look behind me, Bailey was standing there with his gun. He dropped it down by his side while I cried hopelessly.
"Why did you do that," I said angrily behind my shaking voice.
He looked confused as if he thought he was doing me a favor—saving me somehow.
"That thing could've killed you, Sammi," he began.
"That thing was about to save me! You just fucked it all up," I said angrily before standing up and storming off past him.
He continued to stand in the same position, looking down at the ground in defeat. He hadn't been in the car that day when I shared with Caleb and Jackson that zombies wouldn't hurt me, so to him, he probably thought it would. But now the answers I needed were worlds away. I didn't know what to do anymore, but had I just found out that there was a cure, loophole, something? I guess for now, I wouldn't know the answer to that.
     By this time, Jackson and Caleb had run outside towards the commotion to see what was going on. They stopped and watched as I brushed past them back into the direction of the street Bailey's house was located on. They turned to look at me in confusion before turning towards Bailey to figure out what was going on. All they knew was a gun was fired and a dead zombie was left behind in the street.
"What happened," Caleb asked as Bailey faced them.
"I thought I was helping," he said sadly.
Bailey thought he was helping, but really, he'd just alerted every zombie around us that we were out in the open and vulnerable because here they came, ready to eliminate each of us until there was no sign we ever existed. His single gunshot echoed through the streets and trees to which the zombies followed like a bunch of brainwashed puppets. You could actually hear them making their way down each surrounding street like a marching band or a riot—definitely a riot. I stopped in my tracks when I'd come face to face with dozens of hungry zombies. I slowly began backing up towards Bailey and the others while realizing we were about to be in deep shit.
"Sammi, come back," Caleb called out.
     It was quickly becoming evident that when I wasn't in the dark reality I was not safe from the dead bodies starving for flesh and guts. They wanted to kill and eat me just like any other person they'd encountered, drooling and growling at the thought of tasting my bright red blood and fresh pink skin. I continued taking steps backwards as my mind instantly jerked from gray to brightness, from gloom to vibrant flowers and trees surrounding me.
I could hear the zombie growls turn to panicked voices sporadically telling me to leave, that it wasn't safe here. But which here were they referring to? Because it seemed like here with immunity from being torn apart was safer than the here where the zombies wanted to feast on me. I was really starting to question it.
Every several seconds I flipped from one to the other. I felt schizophrenic honestly. Hearing all of these voices in my head and seeing things that weren't really there, to the average person anyways, outlined part of that diagnosis. I just kept telling myself I wasn't crazy. It's the infection. You're not crazy. You're not crazy.
It was making me dizzy as I entered and exited both realities back and forth, back and forth before collapsing to the ground. What was happening to me?
"Sammi," Jackson cried out before sprinting towards my body that was not far from the zombies closing in around us.
     My body laid on the ground convulsing for several seconds before Jackson reached me. Caleb and Bailey were not far behind. He knelt down to the ground, carefully rolling me over onto my side as foamy saliva poured out from the side of my mouth. We were running out of time, but they would never leave me behind. The only thing for us to do was to find an unlocked house close by that we could hide in until the swarm dissipated. I'd finally overcome the seizure and just lied unconscious on the ground while they tried to think of a solution.
"We need to get out of the street and find protection," Caleb suggested while trying to catch his breath from the sprint to me and the anxiety that came with this many zombies.
Jackson placed his arms underneath my body before lifting me up to follow Caleb and Bailey. The two of them had taken off towards a sage green home settled to our left with Jackson trailing behind with me. The home had overgrown grass and a playground set in the front yard where a young child once spent most of their days before all of the complexities and dangers the world had to offer now.
Once Caleb reached the front door, he grabbed the doorknob and found the it to be unlocked. He signaled for Jackson to hurry in behind them, locking the deadbolt immediately once we were all inside. Jackson laid me down on a sofa in the next room before helping Caleb and Bailey stack furniture against the door to keep the zombies from breaking it off the hinges. We were in the clear for now, but zombies were smart. They'd seen us come into this house, and they would be coming for us.
Several minutes passed, and I regained consciousness, panicked by the house I didn't recognize. I looked around at my surroundings hoping I'd see a familiar face in the room, but I quickly realized the guys were in the front of house peeking through the blinds and keeping tabs on the zombies wreaking havoc in the neighborhood. I finally found the energy to stand up before walking towards the front door. I saw Jackson and Caleb nervously pacing around when Jackson ran over to me with his arms stretched out wide.
"I'm glad you're okay," he whispered as we hugged tightly.
We released the hug, and I gave him a smile.
"Is Bailey here," I asked, realizing I'd been unfair to him earlier in the street.
I wanted to tell him I was sorry for yelling and being so mean to him.
"I think he went into the kitchen," Jackson said.
"I'm going to go find him."
He nodded.
I began easing down the entryway looking at the photographs hanging up on the walls. In the photos, I recognized the male present in each one. It was the zombie I'd encountered in the streets before Bailey killed him. In the pictures, I saw him, his wife, and his son. I just kept replaying our conversation while I continued walking through the house. Thinking about how they were brutally murdered was an eerie feeling while being inside the very home where it happened. I could see trails of blood on the floor as it led into the kitchen where Bailey had gone. I just kept going back to the story he'd told me, and I never had the chance to ask him what happened to his son. Was he murdered too?
I'd finally approached the outside of the kitchen when I heard Bailey talking to someone.
"Hey, we're not here to hurt you," he said calmly, placing his hands in the air.
I could see Bailey, but I couldn't see who he was talking to. Before I had the chance to step into the kitchen with him, I was accompanied by the sound of a gunshot that I'd witnessed go straight through his head. I flinched in shock before screaming bloody murder as the killer dropped the gun and ran off. Caleb and Jackson sprinted in my direction. I fell to the floor while hysterically screaming and crying simultaneously. It was a horrific moment I would never forget. The sense of helplessness and the inability to save him from this would leave me broken for a very long time. The father of my child was dead.
     Once Caleb and Jackson found me with Bailey's body, they froze. They had no idea what to make of the situation or how it even happened. I laid my head on his chest while not feeling any heartbeat or sign of life in his deceased body. The blood from his head pooled on the laminate kitchen floor, soaking parts of me that was laid on top of him, expressively distraught and heartbroken beyond belief.
The gunshot once again attracted every zombie within the neighborhood, their hands pounding on the side of the house and on the doors and windows. We were no longer safe here—apparently we weren't safe here to begin with.
Caleb came to my side, gently rubbing my shoulder to try and convince me to leave Bailey's side, but I didn't think I could physically leave him. I needed to stay and comfort what parts of him were left even if he wasn't alive to feel it.
"Sammi, we gotta go. We can't stay here," Caleb pleaded.
I continued crying as I looked up to see the outline of someone peaking from behind the far kitchen doorframe. I couldn't make out what they looked like, but they caught Jackson's eye, sending him to investigate. He took careful steps towards the doorframe as he tried to gain their trust. They no longer had their murder weapon that laid feet from me, so he felt like it was safe enough to pursue the person here with us.
Jackson was now at the edge of the kitchen by the connecting room where he spotted a young boy.
"Hey, it's okay," he said calmly as the boy looked over at me and Bailey's body.
"Is he dead," the boy asked worriedly as he revealed himself from behind the wall.
"Yes. We aren't going to hurt you. It's okay," he said calmly.
I rubbed the tears from my eyes and found the strength to stand before walking over to the gun the boy left behind after he murdered Bailey. I was angry. I was hurt. I was seeing nothing but red, shades of red painted elegantly around me. I'd never felt this type of rage and grief—it consumed me.
Jackson had finally convinced the boy to come back into the kitchen where he assured him it was safe. But he hurt me and he hurt Bailey, so I took the gun and without hesitation shot into the young boy's body—legs, chest, head, anything, until the gun was out of bullets. I'll never forget the look he gave me after the first bullet entered his body. Now he laid lifelessly in a pool of blood symbolically like Bailey. I threw the gun down on the ground as Jackson and Caleb stood wide eyed and traumatized from my actions. They had no idea what to say or do. I was completely off of the charts and violent against a young boy who was probably scared the people who murdered his parents were back to finish the job, but he killed Bailey. That's the only explanation I owed anyone.
As petrified as the two of them were, our time was up. The zombies were breaking through the doors and windows, knocking over the furniture stacked on the front door and heading towards the noise we kept providing in this house. We needed to get the hell out of here. Caleb grabbed a set of car keys hanging on a hook in the kitchen before signaling us to follow him into the garage.
I took one final look at Bailey before hurrying out of the kitchen into the garage. Zombies were now inside of the house and only feet from me while I lingered behind. I heard Caleb crank up a car, so I snapped back into a world that was spinning to find the strength to move at their pace. I shut the door leading to the garage right before an older male zombie reached for me. I stomped down the stairs towards the silver sedan when a Spider-Man backpack hanging up in the garage caught my eye. It stopped me in my tracks, consuming me with an aggressive guilt from murdering a boy no older than Greyson was. Was I turning into a monster after all? I didn't even need the help of the infection.
     Caleb was in the driver's seat, and Jackson was in the passenger side staring out of the window with an emptiness that radiated throughout the garage. I caught a glimpse of it before I grabbed the door handle. We were all rattled, unknowing what to say or do after this. Unfortunately the only thing I knew that would completely take my pain away was in a vial tucked away in a hospital or pharmacy somewhere. I just didn't know how to cognitively function when a piece of my heart was left behind. I needed something to take me away from this.
Zombies were beginning to push through the door from the kitchen out into the garage. Caleb put the car in drive and floored the gas until we'd driven right through the big white door. There weren't as many surrounding the garage as there were on the other side of the house, so after hitting a few of them as speed bumps we were on the road towards Bailey's house. Oh god. Were Lola, Sophie, and Grace okay? Had the swarm come through that area?
God, I was having the most difficult time concentrating and thinking rationally. I was like a robot going through the motions of movement but unable to process thoughts as my own. Someone needed to pull the hard drive out of me to completely shut me off in order to protect myself and keeping those around me safe from my impulsive actions.
For the first time in a while I can say wholeheartedly that I wanted to die. I wanted to slit my wrists and bleed out poetically in a bathtub listening to a depressing song while still enjoying the warmth of the bath water. I wanted to leave a note addressed to my brother and Jackson apologizing for all I continued to put them through while apologizing for adding my suicide to that list. I wanted the adrenaline of knowing it was too late to turn back; the deed was done, and I would be dead soon. So much blood. Do you know how much blood is in the human body? So much blood.
I was afraid to think about whether or not Grace was okay. I couldn't stomach the thought of losing the one piece of me that was still pure, loving, and kind. Lately it seemed like everyone I cared about was dying. First Greyson, Ryan, and now Bailey; this was unfair. This shouldn't have been what the world was.
Caleb hurriedly maneuvered us through the streets, and we were able to find Bailey's house in the midst of the straggler zombies that'd wandered off from the larger group. The flower beds around the house were torn apart as if the herd trampled through on their way to the gunshots. It made my stomach turn in knots thinking about what we might find inside. Caleb parked the car, and the two of them began stabbing the handful of zombies until none remained. I watched with an empty expression as each one fell to the ground after their dulled knives protruded into each decaying brain.
    I found the courage to follow them towards the door, taking in a deep breath before I took slow, heavy footsteps. I could feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, dragging me down with it. It was suffocating me. I hated feeling so whoa is me, but that's all the world had to offer me lately. But as my brother would gracefully say, life goes on. I just didn't believe it was that easy.
     When I walked over the concrete leading to the front doors, I noticed one of them was cracked open, and the glass from the windows and double doors were broken through. Caleb and Jackson eased inside as I saw splatters of blood in a trail towards the kitchen. They looked back at me in fear of what we'd discover—would I be able to handle it? Probably not. I wasn't handling much of anything these days.
     After reaching the end of the blood drops, we found Lola with her back up against the chestnut cabinets holding onto her side to try and stop the blood gushing from her wounds. She was barely alive. Her eyes were bloodshot red, and her skin was pale. She was trying to tell us something, but she began coughing up an excessive amount of blood before her words came out. So much blood.
     The three of us stood frozen for several moments unsure of what to do. Eventually Jackson knelt down beside her, lifting up the bottom of her shirt to reveal at least three gaping wounds from where zombies had removed chunks of her abdomen. The strength she had to hold pressure on her wounds had vanished. She was dead just like everyone else around me. He took one last look at her, feeling for a pulse in her neck before looking back at us in defeat.
"She's gone," Jackson said easing her body down onto the floor.
"Damnit," Caleb said angrily as he kicked a stool from the bar in the kitchen.
"Where are Sophie and Grace," Jackson asked before standing up.
"Check everywhere," Caleb said as they both hurried to each area of the house.
     I remained in the kitchen staring at Lola's dead body subconsciously preparing for the worst. Jackson looked everywhere upstairs, and Caleb looked downstairs with no sign of either of them. Finally the two of them returned to the kitchen with hopeless expressions on their faces. My heart sank.
"They're not here," Caleb said worriedly.
"They're dead too, aren't they? Everyone is dead," I said as my eyes glossed over.
"We don't know that, Sammi," Jackson said trying to remain optimistic.
"Yeah, there wasn't any blood or bodies anywhere except the kitchen. They're out there somewhere," Caleb said as he walked over to me, trying his best to provide what little comfort he could.
     My lips began to quiver while I anticipated heavy tears and labored breathing from the makings of a panic attack. I was housing every urge to shoot up the first drug I laid my hands on; I needed it badly. There wasn't anything I could do to manage this, me. I had all of the components and qualities to turn myself into a complete psychopath. I needed to keep fighting, but right now, I didn't know what I would be fighting for.