Life After Death, Page 2

  He looks in the small windows next to the doors. He walks to a big window and tries to peak inside too. I don't know if he likes what he sees or not. He sure hasn't made himself known, if he was to be a friendly visitor. Have things gotten this bad so fast?

  I jump as the glass of the window shatters. He reaches in to unlock the window and I strain to see him crawl in the house. I don't know what to do. I should go in the fort and watch the house. I don't want him to see me up here if he looks out from the second floor, but I don't move. I stay crouched down with my rifle pointed towards the house. Am I gonna have to shoot this guy? Dad said it could easily come to shooting others and that I'd have to be prepared.

  We practiced on targets. This is real. This guy is real and probably looking for food. He will be on his way soon. I'll be quiet and nothing will happen.

  I glance movement out of the corner of my eye. I bring my scope back to the truck. I see curls of red hair through the back window and empty gun rack. I hear the crying. It's a kid. I can't tell how old. It's definitely not a baby, but it could be a toddler or little child.

  Shit.

  I hear the front door open and he comes out with a few blankets and a three cans of yellow squash. What can I say, I don't like squash. It was the only thing I left behind. He opens the truck door and I hear the child, a girl, scream, "Daddy, don't do that again."

  "I know, honey, but I needed to find some food for us."

  "I want mommy."

  "I know, honey. Mommy is sick like those people on tv. She will get better soon."

  Dang. I look at my three storage areas of food. I hear my dad in my head say, we can't be emotional at this time. We must survive. We can't give food away.

  "I got you a soft blanket and one for me. I also got you a surprise."

  "What?"

  "I found you Smurfette!"

  I watch as he hands the little girl my stuffed Smurfette. It was a present from a boy that liked me back in the ninth grade. I wonder if he's okay.

  "Thank you, daddy! I love her," the girl yells and hugs the plush toy!

  "Not too loud!"

  "Sorry, daddy."

  "Let's get back home before dark."

  "Will mommy be back?"

  "Not yet, honey."

  "Oh... I miss mommy."

  "I know you, do. I miss her too. Let's get going."

  He gets in the truck and the engine comes to life. I see through the window as she gives him a hug. I start to tear up. I want my dad. I want this father and daughter safe.

  I stand to let me be seen in the rear view mirror.

  CRACK!

  I hit the floor.

  Gunshot.

  I hear the little girl scream. I peak to see the red and grey blob behind the dad in the driver seat. She's shaking him. He falls forward. The horn sounds.

  "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"

  Did he shoot himself? Why? Then, I see three men in camo walk out from the tree line 500 yards away. I check my scope. Two have rifles. One has a shotgun.

  They start to jog towards the truck. The tallest is in the middle. He has a crew cut with light hair. I'd say maybe 25 at best.  It is hard to see anything else because the camo is a size or two too big. The other rifleman even has his face painted in camo, but has bright blonde hair. It seems pointless to have the camo on for him. The shotgun guy, is the oldest. He has on a camo hat and short dark hair, but I see a bit of grey at the temples. He is a big man... He's not tall, but about thirty pounds overweight. His camo is a bit tight on him. Did they see me too? Do they want the girl? The truck? Shit-fire, monkey balls!

  I got the tallest rifleman in the scope.

  They slow and raise their guns at the truck. "Daddy, wake up!" I hear from the truck cabin.

  "Dang, Ryan." The shotgun man says.

  "I told you I could shoot the guy from the trees."

  "You sure did. Damn."

  "You get to clean up the mess. Get him out. We need the truck. Get her out of there. Shut her up. Her screaming will attract those things."

  "I'm not killing any little girl."

  "It'll be for the best. The world is going to shit fast."

  "No," shotgun man says.

  "You, fat fuck. Do it, or I'll do you."

  The tall man's stare or rifle never waive red from the man.

  The shotgun man went to the truck and opened the driver side door. He pulled the dad by his shirt. The right side of his head was gone. The dad's lifeless body fell to the gravel driveway. The little girl followed after the dad, holding on to the other arm. She had pale, freckled skin that accented her red wavy, long hair.

  The shotgun man reached for a long hunting knife and grabbed the girl by her hair. He pulled the poor thing away from her dad.

  "Click," sounded my safety.

  He lifted up her head and brought the knife to bear.

  I pulled the trigger.

  I pulled it again, a millisecond after the guy's head exploded in a mist of red.

  The other rifleman, who hadn't said one word, or done anything, collapsed in a heap as blood still pulsed up through the air from the hole in his neck. He grasped at his wound for a second before his arms dropped limp.

  I had the tall man in my scope, but hesitated. He looked around, looking for the shooter. He finally looked up and saw me. I wanted the bastard to see me. I pulled the trigger.

  The tall mam's head shot back and quickly forwards, as my bullet destroyed his brain.

  I killed three people. It took maybe five seconds. The little girl's screams brought me out of my deafened world. I looked to the tree line and saw no one else appear. I jumped up and reached for the ladder. I got down to the ground and ran to the girl with my handgun raised. I didn't think the men were getting up, but I didn't know if there was anyone else out there.

  "Are you okay?"

  The little girl nodded her head in fear at me.

  I put my gun in my jeans behind me.

  "I couldn't let them hurt you."

  "What about my daddy?"

  "I didn't know those guys were out there. I'm sorry, honey."

  "Is he dead like momma?

  She had to be maybe four at best and she already knew about death. I didn't help things, but I had to save her. "He's gone, honey."

  "Noooooooo!" She yelled and hugged her daddy.

  "I'm sorry. We have to go now. I don't know who or what else is out here?"

  "Noooooooo!"

  "My name is Davina. I'm living up there," I said and pointed to above the garage. "I have food and games and even a Winnie the Pooh. I'm waiting for my dad to come home. Please, let's go up there. It is safe. I won't let anyone hurt you."

  "You have Winnie the Pooh? Smurfette got blood on her."

  She held the toy out to me. "She did, sweetie. We can try to wash her. Come on."

  She hugged her daddy. Blood soaked her pants and jacket. "Daddy, Davina is going to take care of me now. She got the bad men... I love you, Daddy."

  She sat up and held out her hand to me. I started to put my hand in hers, when her green eyes grew big and she screamed and pulled away.  

  I turned and saw the rifleman I'd shot in the neck sit up and was try to get up. His eyes were still blue, but there was no more "him" there. I pulled her behind me with my one arm and pulled my gun out with the other.  

  I pulled the trigger and black liquid shot from his head. He slumped to the ground.  

  "Is he dead?"

  "I sure hope so. Come on let's go. What's your name?"

  "Rosie."

  "I like that name."

  She reached for my hand and I took it. I helped her climb the ladder and got her out of her bloody clothes. She held on to my Winnie the Pooh. I told her a story as I let her get under my comforter to stay warm. She was asleep in a few minutes.

  I broke down crying less than a minute later. I had killed three people today
. I watched another one be murdered. I killed my first zombie and I saved a little girl. What the hell am I doing? What the hell happened to the world? I fell asleep next to Rosie and didn't hear the zombies step out of the tree line towards the house. The gunshots attracted them to my home.

  October 12th

  I woke up to Rosie crying out.  I jumped up from dreams of zombies.  I had my gun out before I gained my senses from sleep.  

  "It is okay, Rosie.  Sshhh."

  "My daddy.  My daddy.  My daddy."

  What do you say to a four year old that saw her father murdered right in front of her? I have no idea. I start to tear up and hug her tightly. "It'll be okay. It'll be okay. Are you hungry?"

  Rosie shook her head back and forth against my chest. I wasn't too hungry either. I was thinking how to move the bodies away from the area. I didn't want to see them. I didn't want to smell them. How the hell did I get to this point? Where the hell is my dad? Is there even a chance he is alive? What the hell am I doing? I'm a teenager. A student. A softball player. In the last few days, I'm surviving the end of the world and killing people without a thought.

  Rosie started to quiet down and re-gripped my neck. I stood up, with Rosie still attached, but I didn't mind. I felt a small joy in her holding on to me. I would protect her. Maybe this weird feeling is what it was like to be a mother. Maybe, it is what it is like to be a dad. I reaffirmed myself, that if my dad is alive, he would not give up trying to make it back home.

  I look out the window. As usual, is a foggy morning. I open up the window and that's when I hear and smell it. It sounds like a scraping sound. I look around the fort. Maybe, a mouse or rat climbed up somehow. I wouldn't have been surprised. I didn't see anything scurrying about. The smell though was something I have never encountered. I smelled vomit mixed with an odor, like when my dad and I found a dead deer out in the woods. It was nasty to say the least.

  I think to myself, what the hell died. I am so glad for once I didn't just say it out loud, considering I held Rosie. Could the bodies in front of the house smell already? Would I smell them from here? I better do something with them fast.

  Then, it hits me. Zombies.

  I put Rosie down and tell her to stay inside. I pick up my gun. I go out and the smell is worse. The scraping and now a bumping sound are more pronounced out here. I don't want to look over the edge.

  Will they be down on the ground?  Will they be climbing up the walls?  How many are there?  Will they look like they do on the tv shows and movies?  How many are there?  Can they see me?  These questions and a hundred more were making me stand at the edge, not wanting to look over.

  I took a quick peek and see a foggy wall and almost the ground. Then, I see two of them. Two men, well, male zombies would be the appropriate term. Both in jeans and no t-shirts. One is missing an arm. The other is missing an eye, a jaw, and part of his face. A blast of a shotgun must have got him, but was too low to get his brain. His head flopped on a few dark and dirty tendons as he clawed at the wall. Back and forth with every claw.  

  It was sickening and hypnotic all at the same time. It didn't care. It didn't feel it. It just wanted Rosie and I. I went back to the fort and grabbed the bow.

  "Can I see?" Rosie asked, sitting up in bed.

  "No, baby. I don't think you should."

  "Zombies. You have to shoot them in the head."

  "How do you know that, honey?"

  "My daddy would sneak me to watch that tv show with him sometimes. I'm not scared, really."

  "You've been a brave girl, Rosie. But, you don't need to see this."

  "I can help. I'm a big girl."

  "Okay, big girl. Can you make a bed?"

  Rosie shook her head, yes.

  "Well, make the bed. I'll be right back."

  "No!" She yelled.

  I turned around quickly. I could see the tears welling in her eyes.

  "Don't. Don't leave me."

  "I'm not leaving, honey."

  "Don't leave me in here."

  "You can be a big girl, can't you. A brave girl?"

  "I'm scared. Please let me come with you."

  I sighed, "Come on." Rosie jumped out of bed. She ran and gave me a big hug.

  "Stay back from the wall. You can come, but don't look over."

  "Kay."

  We went back outside. The fog was still deep and impenetrable. I heard the scraping and thumping of the two hitting the garage wall. I took an arrow from the sliver. I cocked the bow. Round pulleys helped me pull on the tight tense wire. I aimed for the un floppy head guy. I exhaled and let go.

  Whosh.

  Swiiiip. Crack.  

  No, blood as the arrow shot through the top of his head. About six inches of the arrow stood out from his head, as he collapsed to the ground. The other guy didn't look at his fallen comrade. He had only one mindset and that was us.

  I took another arrow and aimed at floppy head. I had to time with his head flop. I saw Rosie out of the corner of my eye. She looked over the wall while I aimed. She didn't scream. She just watched.

  The zombie's head flopped and his one dead eye looked up at me, as I let go. The arrow struck an inch above the eye. He collapsed in a heap over the other one.

  Rosie looked at me. Maybe she did need to see this, to see that they can be killed, and that we could survive.

  "Good shooting, Katniss."

  I giggled. "Good one, Rosie. Let's go get a snack. Hopefully, this fog will burn off and we can move these things away from here."

  "I can help."

  "I don't know if I can even do it, honey."

  "Use the truck and pull them. I can be your look out for zombies. I have good eyes, my daddy always said."

  "Good idea, Rosie. That's very smart of you. I think you have very good eyes."

  After a quick meal of oatmeal, which thankfully, Rosie liked, we made our way to the wall. The fog had dissipated greatly, but still mired the woods. There would be enough time in case my spotter saw any zombies. The sound of the gun fire must have lured the two zombies here. I would use the bow unless I really had no option. I slid the heavy ladder down the wall, making more sound than I wanted.

  I looked around through the pair of binoculars expecting a horde of zombies to appear from the noise, but nothing happened. It was then, I noticed the eery quiet. I had forgotten that there were no more animal or bird noises. I started to climb down and Rosie came down behind me.  

  We went around the side of the garage and found the two dead dead zombies.  I'll just say this, pulling arrows out of zombies skulls is not as easy as it appears when Darryl does it on "The Walking Dead."  I gagged and threw up trying to get my arrows back.  I got one out after stepping on the zombies body.  I tugged and tugged and with a wet crack I pulled the grisly wet thing out.  

  I did the same for floppy guy, except after the fifth tug, I tore off his head.  (Thus, throw up the oatmeal.)  I held the head in the air, in front of me.  I didn't scream.  I think I was too shocked.  Rosie didn't scream either.  She just exclaimed, "Ewwwww."

  The arrow cracked.  I dropped it and the head to the ground.  Minus one arrow.  I could do without this.  I wanted to go back up to the roof and just not do anything.  

  With shaky hands I found some rope in the garage.  I used the rope and tied it to the hitch at the back of the truck.  I will not even discuss the inside of the truck (my second and third throw up of the day.)  It took me three trips to drag everyone to the edge of the woods. 

  I wanted to bury Rosie's dad. It took me an hour to dig a small hole.  I could barely move his body. I rolled him in to the hole.  I didn't know what to say beyond the Lord's Prayer.  Rosie said bye, and helped me cover his body with the dirt.  

  The sun was setting when we made our way back to the fort. I could barely climb the ladder.  We got in our little home and we both got out of our nasty clothes and shoes
.  I warmed a big pot of water and we washed off.  I got Rosie in one of my warm sweatshirts and I got in a pair of sleep pants and a sweatshirt too.

  I started to cook some macaroni and we ate in quiet. We crawled in to bed together and fell right to sleep. 

  No dreams.

  No worries.

  Just darkness and rest.  I pray I never have to do that again.  

  October 20th

  It is terribly cold outside. I wake up thinking about Halloween. I planned on being a ladybug this year. My costume was mostly hand made. I guess I wouldn't be wearing it this year. It was in my closet in the house. I peer at the house from my chair. I drink some of my hot tea from my white and orange university of Tennessee mug. I have an abundance of water and tea bags. I don't waste sugar in my mug, but use the honey we have. It makes me think that things are normal for just a short while.