Affliction

Chapter 2

I woke up before the sun rose. The sound of Dawson's own throat filled the dusty air. I couldn't fall back asleep after I heard it, so I stopped trying. Instead, I sat on the porch of the house, smoking a two-year-old cigarette that was stale as fuck. Somehow, I found a working lighter in the house.

I watched as the sun peaked just over the trees in the distance, lighting the sky of Colorado in a mix of different colors that my mother probably would have called, "just like the dream I had in the 20s" if she saw it.

I lifted my head and blew a cloud of smoke. I looked down the dirt road to my left. At this point, I lost count of where I was in Colorado, but all I knew was that it was near some mountains with houses a few miles apart. Somewhere near the Mercenary faction.

The wind blew decently cold right now. I enjoyed being outside before the sun rose all the way. It's not that Colorado is sweltering hot, it's just that I'm used to Alaska. That's where I was raised until the outbreak. But, I guess ever since the 20s ended, global warming got a lot worse, and so did Colorado. But I'm just glad I didn't get stuck in Florida or Arizona.

The rotting floorboard behind me creaked. I didn't bother looking behind me. I knew it was Avery because i could still hear Dawson snoring from the other room. The girl sat next to me, not saying anything. I didn't look at her. We just stared at the land in front of us. It was enjoyable to just sit in silence and stare at the sky as the sun rose. I guess the one thing that hadn't changed since the outbreak was space. Maybe that's why I like it so much.

One thing broke me out of my thoughts. And that was the cackling coming from down the dirt road. It was still quiet, so it wasn't too close. I put my cigarette out in the dirt and stood up, Avery following. She looked at me. "Jester?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. Possibly even the one from that other house." I nodded my head toward the house Dawson was in, now awake and sitting up at the sound of the laughter. The two of us walked back into the house and closed the door, locking it for good measure. Dawson walked to his bag and grabbed his shotgun that was hanging out of it, too big for the bag to close over it.

Dawson checked the chamber before racking it. He walked over to the door and stood at the side of it, locking eyes with me and nodding. I walked to the torn-up couch I slept on and grabbed the axe I usually had on my back. I usually used it to chop down trees for firewood, but occasionally I use it against infected.

I went and stood on the other side of the door, facing Dawson. The two of us waited as the laughter got louder. We were making sure the jester past us, but on the off chance it didn't, we didn't plan on getting beaten to death or ripped apart. Maybe next time I'd be in a better mood for it.

Avery stood next to me with her machete. All of us had stopped breathing, knowing that Jesters were good at hearing, despite being loud as fuck. And considering that it wasn't giggling, but cackling, something triggered it. We were just praying it wasn't us. I say praying, but apart from The Salvation, all religion around here is dead.

The cackling from the Jester got louder and louder until it began to fade, ending in the opposite direction. The three of us let out a sigh of relief once it was gone. We weren't gonna die to that Jester just yet. But hey, never say never.

Dawson swung the shotgun around on its strap until it was hanging from his back. He clasped his hands together with a wide smile. "You know what I miss? Oatmeal. I remember when I could sit back on my couch with a bowl of good ol' oats on my lap while watchin' football."

I scoffed as I made my way back to my bag to get some breakfast. By breakfast I mean a nutrigrain bar and a sip of water. "Yeah, no need to remind us of what we're missin'." I crouched in front of the bag and took out the meal that people two years ago would classify as a snack.

Behind me, Avery stood next to him, joining in. "I loved to eat mine with some vanilla extract in it. My favorite was the strawberrys and cream. My mother made it special for me when I was young."

They moved somewhere in the room, but I didn't look at them. Dawson continued. "I ate a banana flavored one with some chopped up bananas in it. I had a cold beer with it." He paused before speaking a little louder. "How about you, Mason? How'd you have it?"

I took another bite of the nutrigrain bar, not getting up from the floor in front of my bag. The silence filled the room. I heared movement behind me. Avery probably gave up and started walking to the bathroom. "Cinnamon flavored with some cinnamon sugar and butter with a glass of cold milk." I spoke quietly, remembering how it tasted back then. If only I could make it like that now.

Even without seeing the others, I could feel the tension in the room lessen. Even though in age, Riley Dawson takes the lead at 26, I still feel like the oldest sometimes. Kinda like I have to make them feel better when I upset them. I don't mind it, though.

_____

The three of us gathered our things once the sun officially came up and the Jester was long gone. We made our way south, according to my compass. We didn't know what our goal was, just that we had to survive. Find more food. What we had right now would barely get us through the week, especially if an infected somehow gets a hold of the bag. And God forbid we get ambushed.

Speaking of which, we tried to make sure we didn't accidentally slip into raider or mercenary territory. None of us could remember which one was closest. But still, both of them you wouldn't want to come across. You have the wannabe police, and then the people that need the wannabe police.

Avery twirled her machete around as she walked, practically bouncing on her heels. Dawson carried his shot gun in both hands, knowing we wouldn't have enough time to get the stuff off our backs if we were attacked.

We all tried to be quiet as we walked. But our efforts were in vain as we heard the scuffling that didn't seem to be anything... normal. Avery stopped twirling her machete. I gripped my axe and Dawson pointed his shotgun. We all turned toward the trees to our left.

Slowly stepping out of the trees, was a white, suffering man. His skin was covered with bone and as he walked, the bones scraped together. It was as if he had munchmeyer disease, except it grew outside of his skin.

Dawson took a deep breath before saying something only loud enough for Avery and I to hear. "A statue."

We looked forward as the statue slowly walked toward us, clicking it's teeth together. I stopped walking for a split second before it lunged, reached it's arm out with it's hands clenched into fists. I lifted my axe and swung as it got to me. The axe stuck into the bone on it's arm. I ripped it away and swung again, but this time it moved faster. My body slammed to the ground and the statue came with me.

Dawson grabbed the infected by the arm and yanked it back. It screamed as he did, eyes still locked onto me. It's eyes were full of sadness and terror. He was still completely concious. He was still trying to fight it. Tears streamed down the bone-covered face.

Avery appeared behind the infected man and swung her machete. Blood seeped from the new gash in his neck. Dawson and Avery jumped back as if the ground right there had just engulfed into flames. It might as well have.

I scrambled back, leaving the statue to now be isolated as Dawson pointed his shotgun at the infected and pulled the trigger, blowing the head to bits.