The next day, the operations the red haired woman’s father laid out began. I told him that I wouldn’t leave on a mission until I knew my little girl would be kept safe while I was away, so he had a survivor watch over the little girl as I went out. She was an older woman who assured me she was more than capable of watching over the little girl. She repeatedly told me that she’d raised four sons, two daughters, and countless grandbabies before the infection. The little girl liked her right away and whisked her upstairs to play, so I guessed it was okay to trust this woman.
Soon after, I went with the red haired woman to a nearby town and we were able to gather supplies for the base. Luckily, we didn’t run into any infected. I marveled at how smoothly the mission; we were able to get into the town and back out undetected by the creatures roaming its streets.
That night, after we had dinner and I put the little girl to bed, I went down to the dining room to debrief the woman’s father on the operation. I was commended for doing a great job by the red haired woman. Her father gave me an expectant look and said, “Good, because this is just the beginning.”
Months passed like this: the endless hunt for supplies occupied every second of each day. I returned to base every night and debriefed the day and the operations I took part in. During that time, we moved around the immediate area closest to the base, gathering as much as we could find. A lot of other things happened during that time as well.
Everything went well for the first few months; most operations went through easily. We wouldn’t encounter many infected as we trudged through the countryside.
We learned to avoid roads quickly; we were too exposed when large groups of infected would be roaming about. We were always able to find supplies, which allowed us to live on excess and even begin filling our basement with tons of non-perishable goods. The winter of that first year is what really brought everyone together, and especially challenged me. I was never prepared for what that winter would bring me.
The final dead leaf I swept off of the porch of the house welcomed in the first snowflakes of the cold season. Thick frost began to cover the ground, forcing us to rethink our wardrobes. This was followed by the cold snow that blanketed the world in white. Not only did we keep looking for food supplies, but we also looked for clothing as well. We broke into department stores and tried to navigate a few malls to get clothing suitable for the winter. Since many people had been in a hurry to leave the area when the infection began, finding clothes wasn’t too difficult.
I’d never been much of a scarf guy, but the little girl forced me to wear one when I went out on missions. Every time I got ready to go, I’d try to leave the rainbow scarf behind in the room. Sometimes I made it out the door before she came leaping down the stairs, scarf in hand. She would give me a few scolding words, ask me to bend down, and then she would swiftly wrap the scarf around my neck in a tight knot, almost choking me. She’d finish off this spectacle by telling me, “Make sure you take breaks every few hours and if you get too cold, you need to come right back here.” After promising that I’d obey the doctor’s orders, the little girl would sprint back up the stairs to find her older friend so they could play in the soft snow.
The whole show made everyone laugh with delight. The red haired woman would always make a witty remark on the subject, to which I would reply with a playful, “shut up.” Thankfully, people were still able to take me seriously when we went out on missions. I was afraid they’d never listen to a guy wearing a rainbow scarf.
I learned a lot during that winter as well. I learned to hunt, track, skin, and cook various animals. I also learned a great deal of trap-making and how to distinguish good plants from bad ones. The red haired woman’s father would take a small group of us and teach us these skills. He talked about us “city folk” as useless unless taught the real way of the world. He’d always put me to the test first, making me look like the biggest idiot of all since I knew nothing about survival. I almost ate a poisonous plant by accident once, but the red haired woman’s father stopped me just in time, laughing at the prospect of me dying because of such a stupid mistake. The red haired woman told me that all of it meant that he liked me, but I had a lot of trouble believing that.
But I showed him! I’d practice everything he taught us in my spare time. Not only was I able to learn what he’d shown me proficiently, but I began to excel, knowing some things before he’d even teach us. That always surprised him, so he’d grin from ear to ear while calling me a smart-ass for showing off.
Missions still continued on in the dead of winter. This was great for us because there seemed to be less infected on the prowl. The red haired woman’s father explained that the infected were no different from any other warm-blooded animal; they had to find a place to stay warm and couldn’t roam about all the time like in the spring, summer, or autumn. This made missions much easier, creating a temporary relief on our weary minds.
The red haired woman’s father also reduced the group size for missions since we could get more scavenging done. He’d send us out in groups of two. I always went with the red haired woman; she had a great knack for survival. We had lots of fun on our missions together. We’d have great conversations and would pull the occasional prank on one another. As I became more of a survivalist, the winter seemed to fly by even more quickly.
When the Spring finally came around, a large group of survivors were added to our makeshift family. We took them in gladly, realizing the implications they brought with them: we’d need to start rationing our food, and we had to be more careful about letting just anyone in the base; it could mean trouble.
I say this because one man in that group was hiding a bite from an infected. We were all stupid enough to believe that the man was just sick, never acknowledging that he was turning into an infected right in front of our faces. We found out later that night how serious our overlook had been.
We placed the man in a room on the far right side of the house with a few of his friends. Later that night, just before dinner, we heard thrashing from that area of the house. Screaming and crashes filled the house in a panic, demanding our attention. A few of us looked at each other in confusion, asking each other what was going wrong upstairs. Then an angry, shrill cry filled the house, sending chills down our spines and causing our hair to stand on end. We immediately knew what it was.
I looked around frantically, hoping the little girl and her companion were safe downstairs with us. They were huddled against the nearest wall; the little girl started to whimper as the woman smothered her in an embrace.
I looked over to the main personnel of the base; one man was sitting calmly next to me and smoking a cigarette as the others began to react. He didn’t seem bothered by what was going on; he sat there plainly, taking in long puffs of the cigarette and letting the smoke come out of his nostrils. The others were rushing upstairs, guns in hand. I stood up, but the man with the cigarette put his hand on my arm and pulled me back down. “Sit down and wait” he said. “They’ll handle it.”
Screams and orders were shouted, which forced me to stand up again, unsheathe my machete, and walk in their direction. The man ran up behind me and started choking me. He threw me to the ground and snatched my machete from me. He placed it against my neck as he told me, “Just stay the hell out of it. There’s no use putting yourself in danger when you don’t have to.” I looked into his fiery blue eyes questioningly, wondering why he wouldn’t let me fight. He said nothing after that. He simply stood up, threw my machete across the room, and sat back down again. I still didn’t understand, but I listened to him anyway. I went back to my seat and tried to remain still, leaving my machete on the far side of the room. One last shrill cry filled the house, and then the sounds of gunshots filled the air. Then everything was silent.
I stood up and walked towards the staircase when I heard footsteps coming down. I stopped near the entrance of the room and looked at the man smoking his cigarette. He met my eyes and gave me a nod; I nodded back slowly, and then
went into the next room.
Two men were dragging a deformed being down the stairs and out the door. A large trail of thick blood was left behind them. Then more people came down, dragging more bodies. I watched on in horror as four more bodies came thumping down the stairs. The trail of blood became larger and darker as each body came down. Soon, almost all of the stairs were covered in a thick, black ooze. Five people gone; four were infected, and one was still human.
I found out later that the man hiding the bite had gone into a frenzy much earlier than when we heard the commotion, but those in the room did their best to hide it. He bit the three others in the room with him, and they became infected as well. When everyone had gone upstairs to take them down, they were ambushed. One of our people had gotten caught in the midst of the attacking infected, and was swallowed in the firestorm of bullets that took all five of them out.
I looked up, and the red haired woman stood at the top of the stairs, blood soaked onto her face. Her father was standing next to her, covered in blood as well. He came down the stairs alone and called everyone to attention. He yelled at us and said, “That’s it! No one else is allowed to come here! If you see any survivors, you give them some food and water and send them packin’! Not only do we need to ration our food because of these new people, but we also have to clean up this mess at the same time! No dinner for anyone tonight! Go to bed!”
With that address, everyone made their way upstairs. The little girl came by my side, ready to head to the room. She held my hand tightly as we stared at the blood trail. I cringed every time we took a step; I could hear the splashes of fresh blood coat our feet with each ascending step. I saw my reflection in the black tar, and I saw those that’d been killed standing beside me in that reflection. I tried to shake that out of my mind as we reached the second floor. I felt that we carried the people who died with us, creating blood paths leading them right to our room. It was difficult to sleep that night, fearing that another infected might attack. The little girl and I didn’t fall asleep until we saw the dawn greet us with its warm light.
As time passed, the little girl became good friends with the survivor put in charge over her. She was an elderly woman that’d been saved in a nearby town. She hid in her car for three days, starving herself and drawing no attention as the infected ran about. A group from base went on a mission to get food when they came across her. She was saved and brought back to the base to recover. Since she was sixty-four years old, she wasn’t allowed to go out on any operations. So, the red haired woman’s father put her in charge of my little girl.
They became instant friends. Every time I would return from a mission, I’d immediately make my way up the stairs of the house and go into my room; it was their “home base.”
One thing I truly appreciated about the woman is that she encouraged the little girl to draw. She had her draw everything from her favorite foods and animals to her feelings about that day. Drawings began to fill the room, spanning the walls and covering up its peeling wallpaper. Where they found crayons and paper, I’ll never know. Nevertheless, it made me happy to see the little girl preoccupying her time and developing a friendship with someone. They bonded over those months, forming a bond only good sisters can have.
The red haired woman and I bonded even more during that time as well. We still went on missions to scavenge for supplies as a pair. We became so good at carrying out missions that the red haired woman’s father never saw the need to add anyone to our party. We continued to have long talks about our lives and everything that was going on as we trudged through the forest to find our location. Around this time, we became very comfortable around each other. Not long after, she became acquainted with more of my story as I became more knowledgeable of hers.
One day, I told her of my experience in the hospital and the loss of my wife and unknown child. It was difficult to tell, and my voice was shaky for half of it. I kept taking long pauses while telling it; as I told it to her, it felt as if I was reliving the pain all over again. But after finally getting it all out, and even though it felt as if the pain was fresh all over again, I did feel a bit better for having someone to share my grief with.
As soon as I told her, she stopped on the forest floor and became silent for a few moments. A tear ran down her face as she uttered, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
I lied and told her it was fine, and that now it was just a painful memory. I also told her about everything that happened on the military base before finding ourselves with her and her father’s company. She was shocked; she said that she felt horrible for the little girl, especially for having to see her lose her father in such a horrific way. She seemed too sincere in her reaction to my story, and a few days later I understood why.
That was when she told me her story. We were returning from an unsuccessful mission to a nearby town. We stopped on the forest floor underneath the shade of a large pine tree. She looked me in the eyes and just spilled her guts; just like that. I listened carefully as she relayed her journey to me.
She was a military brat, always moving when she was a kid. Her father was a sniper, and her mother was an army nurse. Her parents met after her father returned from a mission. He’d been shot in the right shoulder, and her mother was the nurse who tended to him. They got to know each other and became good friends.
Then her father left for two years to work on a base in Europe. They kept in touch that entire time, allowing their love to build up. As soon as he returned from his leave, they met up again. They dated and ended up getting married a year later.
The red haired woman told me that all she’d ever known were boxes. Every few years, she could expect to go home one evening to a house packed with taped boxes. She’d start crying as her parents went up to her, swept her up into their arms, and tried to console her. Their excuse was that it was time for a new adventure. She believed that lie all of her life.
She grew up like every other kid, save the constant movement from one state to the next. She went through high school and went to college to study as a nurse. She told me she’d always admired her mother for saving lives every day. The long nights that she was away from her were worth it because she knew her mother would be out saving the world, one soldier at a time. She’d just begun graduate school when the outbreak began.
When it happened, her father went to get her and bring her back home. She expected to see her mother again, as happy as she ever was. Instead, she went back to a scene that would change her life forever.
Her father was silent the whole way home. That wasn’t like him at all; he was usually very talkative and would never shut up. Whenever she tried to start up a conversation, her father would zone off in the middle of his sentence and become preoccupied with something else. She told me how her father looked torn, as if he’d been ripped apart at the seams and was put back together all wrong. When she got home, she understood why.
She told me that the first thing she heard was the racking cough that spurted from the lungs of her mother. She’d barely placed her bags on the floor when her father grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the living room. After she took a seat on the sofa, her father told the truth.
Her mother had been very sick lately. Ever since she’d left the army hospital two days prior, she’d been falling to pieces. Her hair was falling out; her skin was beginning to become pale and seemed to tear at the seams. Her normally carefree demeanor had turned into one of aggression. Thick, green mucus spurted from her mouth with every cough.
As soon as she heard the truth, she ran into the room to see her mother. It was worse than she ever could’ve imagined, and the words that her father shared didn’t due her horrible condition justice.
Over the next few hours, the normally strong and willful woman she’d known disintegrated right in front of her. During those hours, her mother lost the ability to speak. She was only able to make grunts and squeals of pain as the red haired woman did her best to keep composure despite the
tears flowing down her face. She sat with her mother until the end, when the last gasp of life left her lungs.
That was where she stopped. We stood there in the shade of the tree, completely silent. The red haired woman spent a few moments looking down at her shoes, waiting for me to respond. I stood there silently, not knowing what to do. She seemed so helpless in those moments, and I wondered what I could do to console her.
After more awkward silence, I walked over to her and placed my hand on her shoulder. She leaned into my chest and began to sob uncontrollably. I let her cry into my chest and held her, feeling the utter devastation in her heart.
We stood there for quite a while until she was able to stop. When the last whimpering sob left her body, she wiped her eyes and thanked me for listening to her. She’d never told anyone that story before. I gave her a weak smile, took her hand in mine, and we made our way back to the base.
We started to get even more comfortable with each other as we continued going on missions together. Things began to change between us. More sweet silences occurred, in which we’d look into each other’s eyes and say nothing. We’d give shy smiles towards each other, and I would simply admire her presence near me. I started noticing even more how beautiful she was, and how every ray of light caught her sapphire eyes and her fiery, red hair. We became more playful and giddy around each other, and she even grabbed my hand once and held it the entire time we went on a mission. That didn’t bother me, but what happened a few days after that changed everything.
It was all my fault anyway. We were in an abandoned liquor store looking for supplies. We were scavenging through the aisles, finding nothing of use. Our eyes kept meeting, and we gave each other more loving smiles. I decided to prank her; I went into a different aisle and knelt down, creeping along the floor in her direction. I got to the end of the aisle and waited for her. She began to call my name, asking where I was. Her voice became a little worried when I wouldn’t respond. Then her voice became frantic, and I heard her footsteps rush in my direction. As soon as she was within arm’s reach, I grasped her ankle and let out a scream.
She let out a horrified squeal that filled the entire neighborhood, probably alerting any infected nearby. She had a terrified look on her face as she spun in my direction. When she realized it was me, she kicked me hard in the side. I didn’t really feel it because I was already howling with laughter. She kept calling me a jerk as my laughing subsided and I stood up. She walked away from me, still calling me a jerk. I was still giggling as I walked over to where she was.
She had her back to me, and was leaning over a glass counter where there had once been jewelry. I reached over and put my hand on her shoulder. As I pulled her in my direction, telling her I was sorry but not really meaning it, the red haired woman spun around and kissed me.
Her lips were rough and chapped, but sweet. I let her lips find mine over and over again. I felt a rush as I kissed her back, reveling in the beauty of the woman I was holding near me. But then it happened.
My wife flashed into my mind. She was standing there, even more beautiful than the day I last saw her. She was calling out to me, telling me she loved me, even now as I was kissing this other woman. In that moment, I realized that I still undyingly loved my wife. My heart sunk as it realized it could love no other. No one could fill the hole in my heart like my wife, and the empty chasm there still longed for her and the child I never knew. I knew I could never love the red haired woman; my heart was already buried with someone else.
I stopped kissing the red haired woman and pushed her away. I saw how crushed she was as she asked me, “What’s wrong?” I turned from her, placing my hands on the edge of the glass counter and looking intently at my reflection in the dusty glass. I felt my wife’s hands running themselves over me, I felt her lips kissing me gently on the cheek and the lips; they were soft and lovely. I felt her whispering in my ear, telling me that even in death she had no other besides me. I could even make out her face in the glass, right next to mine, over my right shoulder. She was smiling gently, making the emptiness in my heart reach for her only to find nothing. But it still continued to reach, hoping to find and lay hold of something.
The red haired woman came next to me. She put her hand on mine. I looked up into her blue eyes with tears welling up in mine. She looked at me empathetically, seeming to understand. I tried to open my mouth, to tell her why I couldn’t be with her, but she already knew.
She nodded and began looking into the dirty glass too. She said, “I get it; you still love her. You just can’t let her go.” I looked over at her, feeling the guilt of leading her on for so long. I said “I’m sorry” quietly in her direction. We stood there in silence for a few moments, and then some shrill cries filled the neighborhood outside of the store. The red haired woman pulled herself away from me and began to walk out of the store. Before exiting the building, she turned in my direction and said, “I’m sorry too.”
We left the town and headed back to the base in complete silence. She kept her distance from me the entire time as she led the way. She walked a few steps in front of me, and I remember seeing her tears hit the grass and dirt, covering them in wet sadness. I eventually stopped looking at the red haired woman as she walked and kept my eyes fixed on the trail she left, letting it guide me the whole way back to base.
The red haired woman’s father called a meeting that night, relaying plans for another operation. We were beginning to run low on supplies, and we needed to find more to keep the base running. During the meeting, he brought out a map I’d never seen before. He pulled it out of his jacket pocket and unfolded it. As soon as he placed it in the center of the table, he said, “I don’t wanna go here, but I know we need to.”
He scanned the room, looking into the curious eyes of everyone present. He pointed at the center of the map and continued on, “There’s a town called Tuckerton farther out than usual. It’s a larger town, almost a city. It’s way different than the other places we’ve been going to. We need to go there; they have everything we need.
However, it’s crawling with infected. I’m not gonna lie to you; we’re desperate for supplies. We’re beginning to run low on everything. At this point, with the few supplies available to us, we have two options: we go to Tuckerton, or we kick some people to the curb.
I’ll just say it now. Tuckerton is going to be a large scale operation that requires at least twenty of the forty-two of us. Yes, it’ll be dangerous; it’s almost a suicide mission. But we need to find some way of still surviving here. Now, I’ve presented the options, and I’ll leave the decision up to the rest of you. Let’s vote.”
The vote was split down the middle at first. Then it came down to one man with an indecisive vote; me. The table waited anxiously for my response. I became nervous as I realized the weight of the decision I had to make. My palms began to sweat. The expectant look on everyone’s faces to choose their side made my heart beat so quickly I thought it would go flying out of my chest and land on the table in front of me. I finally spoke up and confidently said, “I think we should try to find supplies in Tuckerton.”
I was received with some smiles of approval as well as sneers of disgust. That meeting settled it; we were going to Tuckerton. That would be the biggest mistake of our lives.
Tape #10