A Song For The Wicked

Part two: The eye of the storm

Cowley, Wyoming two months after the first infection-

In the small town of Cowley, Wyoming there always lingered the fear of abandonment. Since its founding it's always been an in or out town. Either the economy was flourishing among the few shops, or it was a ghost town. So when the people began packing up and leaving, the older folks thought it to just be tradition. The tales of worried families elsewhere in Montana and Iowa pulled people out of their roots in Cowley. Only around 110 people remained by the end of it. The town's loyal sheriff led the few remaining people to the fire station where they camped out since most of the towns power was out. From the only generator in town the huddled mass sat in the fire house watching on the T.V as the world around them collapsed. In response the Sheriff stood up and took control as the towns leader. Just as his group began another arose alongside an evil that he had deemed the devil himself. A man who called himself, Pallidius. The rumors are of living cannibals and highway robbers and slave drivers, but such atrocities are *unknown* to the likes of modern, respectable, men.

At a very young age Abraham's family were killed by city folk who thought they had money on them. During those times everyone was poor, so Abraham was instead given to a distant friend of the name Dave Carte. A man who could not tell the desperate relatives otherwise took him in at the age of two. A comfortable life tucked away in the northern woods. A calm life that was abruptly met with conflict. Now of the age 25 Abe works in the "Big city" or Lovell in the winter months as a snow plow driver. And in the summer he is the unofficial town courier and designated driver of the town. While out amidst the woods hunting and relaxing they returned to a world much changed.

The truck bumped gently down district street, the song of birds and the symphony of wind among the leaves. The soft June light danced on the half lit path, and the scent of the morning dew was thick on the wind. Dave peered out the front of the windshield with his periphery. He sang along to the cassette in the player and tapped on the open window. Abraham sat there staring out off in the distance. Then all of a sudden, as though wishing death a dear jolted out from the tree line in front of the car and stopped. The truck swerved only a little, slamming the deer hard in the side . It shot forward a few feet and skidded on the concrete and came to a halt before the ditch, "Damn!" Dave turned off the truck and stepped out to survey the grisly scene. Abe got out as well and moved to the corpse nonchalantly. "Dead." He whispered to himself. He and Dave took a stance on either side of the deer and grabbed onto it. The side of the animal had been scrapped badly on the road and blood leaked out from it's mouth and wounds, leaking onto Abe's hands.

"We can probably eat this when we get back. Sure makes up for the three uneventful weeks we were gone huh." They moved to the back of the truck which was relatively empty except for a small tool box which laid worn out and bungee corded in. The deer fell limp in the truck bed and it's glassy eyes stared into the sky as its limbs twitched just a bit before it had stopped. A good deal of blood had gotten onto Abe's hands and a little on his pants. He just stood and stared at the crimson fluid as it dripped off his fingers. He was snapped out of his trance as Dave spoke to him.

"I haven't got anything to wash that off now, but I think the district street creek is just up ahead." Nodding Abe got into the car buckled himself, being cautions of the blood.

"Be careful not to got that blood on anything, this interior has yet to be stained and I wish to keep it that way for now." Out of it Abe noded and kept his hand over his lap. The car once again started up and they began down the road. Abe's mind had often wandered but today was especially distracting as the nature about him seemed enlightened. With every bump the deer rocked the truck bed and Dave would turn back to check it. As they finally approached the little cobble bridge over the creek they came to stop. The sound of the little stream's water flowing in it's channel rang up in calming pulses. The symphony of wind and chirps joined in and in that moment, all was peaceful. Abe stood out of the car and stared down at the stream for a moment. The soft summer soil beneath his boots, and the wind through his curly hair left him enveloped in an odd peace