From the Ashes, You Crawl

Chapter Sixteen; Flashback

It was much later the next time Gerard left his home after his stash of food from the night in the supermarket dimished. He had made it last, forced himself near starvation so he could avoid leaving his sanctuary. After a week or so, the gnaw of hunger just seemed normal to him, like the ghost ache in his leg where the stab wound still festered. Gerard would treat it from time to time, but no matter what he did, he would always find a way to tear open the healing flesh and let the infection continue.

Gerard had moved the furniture against the windows, blocking out light, but when that wasn't enough, he tore wooden planks from the old back porch and nailed them over the windows, making the old Victorian home look more like a shanty. He didn't care.

In the beginning, Gerard stayed in his panic room during the night, sleeping little and listening to the cries outside his home, but after some time, he figured it safe, and spent the nights in his bed, the bed where the body once lay. That alone made him feel a little better, but more alone. It cancelled out. He didn't sleep well there either. The screams were louder, and, even though he knew they could not find him, he worried they were right outside even though they were miles away, searching for humans to feast despite the fact they were all dead. When Gerard did sleep, his dreams were haunted by the sounds of gunfire, blood splattering his face, red on white, an open hole in the ground, melting skin, piles of dead bodies along the road. Gerard would wake screaming, tearing at his hair, clumps coming into his hands.

When his supply was running low, Gerard decided it was time to leave again. He feared the outside world, but he knew he could never avoid it. He did it quickly, waking first thing when the sun rose and packing a few things into his army bag, a package of peanuts, a rusty knife, a tiny canteen with barely an ounce of water in it. Gerard realized he did need some way to defend himself, but, on the inside, he knew if it was a life or death situation, he'd very easily end his own life. Gerard recalled the pistol he had drawn on the infected woman in the supermarket, and his eyes searched the floor. He had forgotten about it, but there it was beside door almost as if it had been waiting for him. Gerard moved towards it, hands shaking, and shoved it in his waistband. It was freezing against his trembling skin. But he ignored that, pulling his black hoodie over it, and his large, black hunting jacket over that. Gerard sighed contentively out of his mouth and turned out towards the door, pushing it open.

The world was just how he remembered, gray and dead, the stink of rotting corpses like some sort of sick incense. Gerard swallowed a hard lump in his throat, walking down the long driveway to the road. He did not know where to go, so he let his feet blindly lead him away from the city, into the nearby woods. Gerard had been here many times as a child, playing among the trees and dirt with Mikey. They had been forbidden to come here. Gerard's lip trembled as he walked along the burned grass. The trees were naked, missing leaves, branches twisted at unbelievable, broke angles. Many of them were completely black on the side that faced the end of the forest, undoubtedly burned by the blast. Gerard let his fingers grace across it. He remembered as a child how lively the forest had been, sounds of birds and bugs and squirrels in the trees and grass.

Now, there wasn't a single sound except for his shaky breath as he limped along. He stepped over logs and fallen trees, roots and all sticking up from the wreckage like flags, waving in distress. Gerard tried very hard to keep from crying. He passed by a creek with black water and various debris caught in the current. Pausing to catch his breath, Gerard stopped, moving by the water's oily edge and examined what was floating along, but the sight made him sick. Clothing, sweaters, shoes, hats, gloves, floated along, blood stains deep within the fabric. Gerard looked farther down the stream, his stomach aching when he saw it, floating along the river like a merry group of yachts.

Bodies. Naked, lifeless bodies dumped into the river. There had to be ten at least, bodies corroded over time, skin peeling, hair missing, open sores where skin was missing entirely, on their stomachs, bobbing along the water. Gerard wanted to scream, but he was so shocked, he just couldn't, eyes wide as they floated so seamlessly past, and then, down the river as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.