Watch the World Burn

“I shot most of his fucking head off!” I screamed, grabbing my hair on either side of my face, tears welling in my eyes.

  I curled into my seat and cried, the overwhelming torrent of tears surging uncontrollably from me, making everyone else in the truck extremely uncomfortable.

  I stayed in a quivering ball until we eventually pulled to a slow stop.

  “Damn.” Sully said. I finally noticed he was the one driving.

  “What is it? Are there more of them?” Billie said, alarmed.

  “No, no. Nothing like that.” Sully said. “There’s just a bunch of cars blocking the way. We can’t get through without moving them.”

  Billie sighed, relived.

  “Hey Jo,” She said, turning to me and rubbing my arm gently. “Think you’re up to helping us move the cars? We could really use you.”

  I sniffed and nodded. “I guess so.” I said quietly.

  As I climbed out of the truck and walked toward the cars with my friends, I had to admit that it felt good. I was at my best when I was doing something physical or mental, and navigating the labyrinth of abandoned vehicles to find the best places to create a path was both.

  Dean and Sully stayed ahead of us, Dean holding the fire poker from the cabin, and Sully the ax. Billie stayed next to me, matching me step for step. She was unarmed, and I kept the pistol in its holster on my shoulder, albeit uncomfortably. It was an unwelcome weight against my upper arm, like a nagging reminder of what I had done.You killed someone. You killed someone.

  We cast around, looking for people as we moved the cars off to the sides of the road. There was no one there. Not a soul. The cluttered highway felt empty and unnatural, like it was the end of the world and we were the only humans left.

  After we cleared around ten or so cars, the road opened up enough to allow the truck through for at least a mile, though some places would be a tight squeeze.

  We got back in the truck and started to drive, Sully maneuvering the obstacles slowly but expertly.

  “Where did everyone go?” Dean asked. “It’s so empty. You’d think we would have seen someone around here.”

  “I know, it’s creepy as hell.” Sully said.

  Billie patted my arm and smiled at me meekly. I managed a half smile back.

  “I’m ok.” I whispered, keeping my eyes on my hands.

  We were on the road for what seemed like hours, never seeing a single car or any other signs of life after we left the ones by the cabin behind. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Can we put in a CD or something? This silence is getting to me.” I said.

  “Good idea.” Billie and Dean said together.

  “Let me just check the radio first. We should be close enough to a major town to pick something up about what’s going on.” Sully said.

  He checked the stations and found nothing but static. Confused, he switched bands and checked those stations too. He couldn’t find anything.

  “Weird.” He said, and then slid in a CD.

  I could tell they all wanted to talk about it, but were too afraid I might snap again and start bawling. I didn’t want them to have to tip toe around me, and I knew that Dean had been right. I didn’t have a choice. I had to keep telling myselfthat the guy would have killed me and them if I hadn’t stopped him. So I took a few deep breaths and spoke:

  “You guys can talk about what’s happening if you want to. I won’t freak out again.”

  “Are… are you sure?” Billie asked.

  “Yes. I’ll be fine.” I said. “I mean really, if we can’t talk about the country being taken over by stark raving lunatics, what can we talk about?” I forced a small laugh.

  Sully flashed me a smile in the rearview mirror and shook his head, chuckling to himself.

  “We need to stop for gas.” He said.

  “There’s a gas station a few miles away. I have cash in my duffle.” I said. “Then we need to get off the main road; start heading toward the foothills that overlook the valley.”

  “Agreed.” Sully said.

  “Why those foothills?” Dean asked.

  “Because they’re a good vantage point. We can keep an eye out on what’s happening in the major metropolitan areas while staying a safe distance away.”

  When we pulled up to the gas station, I tugged an over-shirt on over my gun to camouflage it and yanked on a loose jacket, just in case. No one in the area really cared if someone was carrying a handgun most of the time, but if things were bad this far out, they might see us as a threat.

  I got out slowly, careful to make no sudden movements.

  “Hello?” Sully yelled.

  No one answered.

  I walked forward, calling out “Hello? Is anyone in there?”

  I was met with silence.

  “We just need some gas.” Sully said, his voice a little more quiet.

  When no one answered us, I walked slowly into the building, my hands up, gripping the sides of the doorframe.

  “Is anyone in here?” I asked.

  There was still no answer.

  Nothing seemed amiss, accept for the fact that the door was wide open and none of the lights were on.

  I turned around and shrugged at Sully and Dean, who were staring at me.

  Billie handed her brother something through the window, rolling it back up quickly. I could tell she was a little freaked out, and I didn’t blame her.

  Dean jogged forward and handed me my wallet before striding past me and behind the counter.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Turning on the gas pump.” He said.

  “Oh, that’s right. You used to work at a gas station when we were sophomores.” I said, pulling out a twenty and slapping it on the counter. “It does feel kinda weird to be doing this though.”

  “You’re leaving them money.” He said.

  “Yes, but it’s like leaving a few dollars behind after helping yourself to food at a closed restaurant.”

  Dean walked back around the counter and steered me toward the door.

  “Wait.” I said. Something had moved somewhere behind us.

  “What?” Dean asked.

  “Something’s back there.” I said, pulling my shirt above my gun and tucking it behind the holster.

  The sound was coming from the back, behind the coffee machine. I slunk closer to the door separating us from what I gathered to be the break room.

  “You can come out,” I said. “We aren’t going to hurt you.”

  Whatever it was moved again. It was almost like someone moving a pill bottle around.

  My heart rate rose as I pulled out the Colt and reached for the knob with my free hand. It was unlocked.

  Stepping back, I yanked hard on the door and raised the pistol.

  Chapter 8

  I gagged. A foul stench assaulted my nostrils and made my eyes water as a blast of hot air leaked out from the small room.

  “Oh God, what is that?” Dean asked, his voice muffled by his hand covering half his face.

  “Barbeque and death.” I told him, slamming the door shut.

  “Huh?” He said.

  “Looks like someone overdosed in there a day or two ago.”

  “So what’s making that noise?”

  “Rats.” I said. He shuddered.

  “And the barbeque part?” He asked, unsure if he really wanted to hear the reason.

  “The heater was going full blast. Guy was leaning up against it.”

  Dean doubled over and vomited.

  “What’s wrong with you guys?” Sully asked as we walked back out, with me avoiding the puddle of sick on the floor.

  Dean turned and vomited again.

  “Someone died in the break room with their back pressed against the running heater.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?” Dean rasped from behind me.

  “I work…worked at a mortuary, remember? Seeing and smelling dead bodies doesn’t really bother me. But that one has to be the worst c
ase of decomp I have ever smelt.”

  “Ugh. Have any mouthwash?” He asked.

  I reached in my bag and tossed him the bottle I had stored with my toothbrush.

  Sully was still staring at the building, horrified.

  “Seeing a dead guy that’s been practically baked doesn’t bother you, but…” Sully stopped, catching himself.

  I frowned.

  “Tell him about the rats.” Dean mumbled.

  I ignored him and sidled closer to Sully.

  “It’s not the death that bothers me. It’s the fact that I pulled the trigger, you know? I’m the reason he’ll never see his family again.” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. The tightness was returning to my throat.

  He cupped the side of my face in his hand. “You did the right thing.” He said.

  “I know. I’m just having a hard time dealing with all of this.”

  “Me, too.” He said.

  “You’re doing a better job than I am.”

  “Can we get out of here now? Please?” Dean said. He had already climbed back into the truck.

  Once we had gotten a few miles away, Dean rolled down his window.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get that smell out of my nose.” He said.

  “What smell?” Billie asked.

  “You don’t want to know.” Dean and I said together.

  “Why did you have to tell me what was back there anyways?” Dean asked me.

  “You asked.” I said, rubbing my brow.

  I had been lost in thought, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. I had to keep myself together, if for no other reason that the survival of the three other people in the truck. We had been friends for so long; knew so much about each other that we were practically family. No, we were family. The only family we had left if this thing was really taking over the country. I prayed it hadn’t.

  We turned off onto a country road, a back road I had known from camping trips. On either side of us was farmland with fields of fruits and vegetables and a far off horse stable. It wouldn’t be long before we reached to foothills, where we would have to try to find a secluded enough spot to camp out at.

  We sped past row upon row of crop, leaving a cloud of dust and gravel in our wake. Billie wouldn’t look at me. She looked at everything in and around the truck, but never once turned her eyes toward me. I was about to ask her what was wrong when she spoke.

  “Hey, I think I saw someone by the farmhouse. Maybe we should ask them if they’ve heard anything.”

  “I don’t know. It could be dangerous.” I said.

  “It could be. But then again, they could be just fine. They could tell us something about what’s going on.” Sully said.

  “They might even give us some home cooked food.” Dean chimed in.

  “You always think with your stomach don’t you?” Billie said, giving him a tiny smile.

  “Hey, we’ve had almost nothing but MREs for the last week. I could use some real food.”

  Sully pulled us into the driveway at a crawl. The slower speed allowed me to scan the surroundings, taking note of places someone could hide behind or in. It felt like we were entering no man’s land. Though we knew it wouldn’t be as much of a threat here, in such a secluded area, the evening’s events still shone brightly in my mind, making me weary of anything that moved.

  From our parking place behind an old, beat up Chevy, we were easily visible from the front door. As we all climbed out, I kept scanning the area, stopping when I noticed movement from an upstairs window. An old woman was looking out at the field behind us, her expression blank. She rocked gently back and forth, like she couldn’t quite keep her balance. Something about her sent shivers down my spine.

  The screen door creaked open and an old man stepped out, a shotgun held low against his leg.

  “Can I help you?” He said in a gruff voice.

  Chapter 9

  “We were just wondering if you had heard anything about what’s been going on.” Billie said, stepping forward.

  “People are coming down with somethin’ like an awful sickness, actin’ funny.” He answered.

  “We know that. Have you heard anything else? Like what we’re supposed to do?”

  He considered her for a moment before saying “No. A few radio stations have said to stay out of big cities, but not much else.”

  “Do you have anything to eat?” Dean asked. I could have kicked him.

  The man laughed. “You’re Danny’s boy aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Dean said.

  “And that’s your sister too.”

  Billie nodded.

  “Who are those two?” The man asked, pointing at me and Sully.

  “Those are our friends.” Billie said.

  “I’m Sully, and this is Jo.” Sully said.

  “How do you know our Dad?” Dean asked.

  “I used to watch him playing football when he and my boy were in high school together. Then when my grandson started playin’ we would talk, reminisce about the old days and all. I remember you wanted to be just like him and play ball for the school.” The man said with a smile. “Why don’t you all come on in. It’d be nice to have some company after all that’s been happenin’.”

  When we came closer, he added:

  “Mind you, you’re gonna have to keep it down. Wife’s come down with something’ and she needs her rest.”

  At those words, I froze.

  Sully looked behind him at me; then reached out, tugging me along. He nearly had to drag me up the steps onto the porch.

  The old man looked at me, probably wondering if I was on drugs, and if I was a danger to him. I tried to smile, but just couldn’t.

  “Jo, huh?” He said. “Awfully funny name for a girl.”

  “It’s short for Joanna.” I said.

  “Was your daddy in the military?”

  “Yes,” I said, wondering where this was going.

  “Branch?” He asked.

  “The Army. He was a Ranger.” I said.

  He smiled again. “He wouldn’t be Capitan David Dagen, would he?”

  “How..” I started.

  “We served together. He’s a good man, your pa’. How is the ol’ fella?”

  “He was attacked by one of those…people when we were away. He told us not to go back for him.” Sully said as he squeezed my hand.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” The man said. “And you didn’t try to go back for him?”

  I shook my head ‘no’.

  “Then he taught you well.”

  The man shepherded us inside and directed us to the kitchen, where he poured us cold water and offered some stew that was bubbling away on the stove. It smelled like venison.

  “Forgive me, but I don’t recall your name.” Billie said to him.

  “Call me Chaney.” He said.

  He set a bowl of piping hot stew in front of each of us, and we ate it gratefully.

  “I didn’t think my cookin’ was that good,” He said, eyeing us as we devoured our food. “What have you been eating lately? All junk food I bet.”

  “We’ve been eating MREs for the past week.” Dean told him.

  Chaney laughed. “That’s worse.” He said, flashing that easy smile. “People weren’t meant to survive on shit on a shingle.”

  There was something about him that still set a part of me on edge, though I had no idea what it was.

  Something scraped on the floor above us, and we jumped.

  “Don’t mind that. The wife’s probably just getting a bit restless. Happens sometimes.” He said, a little too quickly.

  We finished our meal, growing more weary as the noises increased in volume and frequency.

  When each bowl had been drained and every morsel of delicious home cooked food had been thoroughly chewed, Cheney stood and said:

  “Not to be rude, but I think it’s about time you young ones moved on. I have lots to do around here.”

  He was about to herd us o
ut the door when we heard slow footsteps coming down the staircase. A look of genuine concern flashed across his face as he turned.

  “Why darling, what are you doing out of bed?” He asked.

  The woman on the stairs didn’t respond, but instead drew closer, sniffing the air. Her eyes were milky and unmoving; her fingers clenched and unclenched at the sides of her faded floral nightgown.

  Cheney made a shooing motion toward us as he strode up to the woman, trying to get her back up the stairs. She scratched him.

  “Ow,” He said, letting go of her.

  She took that moment to push past him and stumble toward us, her teeth gnashing.

  Startled, we scattered, backing away from her quickly.

  “What the hell?” Dean said.

  “You mind your language boy.” Chaney said, reaching for his wife again.

  He grabbed her around the middle and tried to pick her up, but it was useless, like a small child trying to hold back a Rottweiler. She swung her arms around the room, searching for us. He pulled on her again and she turned, sinking her teeth into him and tearing out a chunk of flesh. He staggered backward, instinctively grabbing his shotgun. She chewed, seemingly happy, as her husband sank to the floor, blood pouring out of him. The shotgun went off, the pellets hitting the ceiling, sending a cloud of dust and wood to rain down on his nearly dead body. My friends and I moved closer together, trying to sneak past her.

  We had taken only a few steps toward the back door when a floorboard squeaked underfoot, and she spun around to face us. Her mouth dripped blood onto her nightgown, her face blank. She moved away from her husband, staggering forward on unsteady feet. She was sick with whatever it was everyone else was getting. There would be no escape without outrunning her, or shooting her but I couldn’t stand the thought of shooting another person.

  The old woman wrapped a hand firmly around Billie’s wrist, pulling her forward with surprising strength for such a frail looking body.

  “Let go of me!” Billie screamed.

  Without thinking, I rushed behind the old woman and wrapped one arm around her neck, using the other to push her head down into my elbow and used my full weight and every last ounce of strength I had in me to yank her backward.

  I might as well have put a choke hold on a brick wall. The lack of oxygen didn’t affect her in the least. She still strained against me, trying to pull Billie’s hand to her mouth. Thinking fast, I kicked hard against the back of one of her knees, which buckled under the force. I pulled against her again, this time yanking her far enough back that she let go of Billie, her arms flying up to mine as she tried feebly to scratch at my just out of reach face. One sharp nail dragged against my arm as I pulled her further away from my friends.