Humanity Scar (Journal 1): Last Words, page 12
part #1 of Humanity Scar Series
He pulled me into an embrace. His entire body was shaking.
63rd Day: 4:30 PM
Bren hasn't woken up yet. I don't think he's had any real sleep in days. I can tell he trusts me a lot already, and oddly I feel the same way towards him. If he hadn't saved me the other day, we definitely wouldn't have met... and I am not even sure I'd be alive to write this story. Both of us have saved each other and it has bonded us instantly.
We compared notes on what we knew about the infected. He seems to have come to some of the same conclusions I have. It feels good to have someone to bounce these ideas off of again. He was eager to talk and soon went into the story of how he came to be in the place that he is now.
It was more than I think anyone should have had to go through. I can't say that I would have had the same strength as him. He's been alone since a week after everything went down. The house we are in belonged to his family. He had two elderly parents whom he cared for while going to school. He is only 23 years old and seems to have lived a lifetime even before all the horrors came rushing to his door.
He didn't seem ashamed of it. He seemed proud. As if the life he used to live was not lost in a haze of horror. Instead he kept it safe, almost revered in his memory.
He told me of his only sister, Carine. She was a lot older than him, 35. She lived across town and had called saying she was going to come stay with them when the first days were unfolding like a horrible nightmare around them.
But when she arrived, she was injured and barely able to walk. Her shoulder was soaked with blood. It seems she had been attacked on the way to her car. They put her in the guest bedroom at 5 pm, by 5:30 they heard a crash and then silence. His father went to check on her and found her on the floor in a pool of blood and vomit. When he knelt down to see if she was alright, she attacked him, and then turned on her mother who was following closely behind.
Bren saw it all happen and closed the door before they could escape. He said that he was able to secure the door and they did not come out. But how could he keep a single door closed against 3 zombies?
I’m fairly certain he had to do something else to make sure they didn’t come after him. He didn’t say anything more after that. He just looked off towards the corner of the house where it had all happened. I wasn't sure exactly which closed door held the room full of ugly memories, but it didn't matter. He seemed to have found a way of dealing with the reality of his entire family being gone in less than an hour and I didn't want to re-open any healing wounds.
After a while, he went on to tell me how he had barricaded the house. He showed me when we first came in, but it was interesting to hear him tell the process he had gone through to ensure the house looked untouched. For some reason, his instincts told him the less he did to modify the appearance of the house, the better.
Each window had been boarded over with several planks of wood, leaving only a 6 inch space to see through in the middle of each one. He had actually put the wood behind the curtains to mask its presence. Each curtain had a small slit cut into the fabric where there was a space in the wood, providing a perfect viewing space that would never draw attention because the curtains were never touched or moved
The backyard had a tall fence which he had built himself just a few short weeks before everything went down. That explained the lucky supply of wooden planks. He had reinforced everything with the discarded chain link from the previous fencing. The latch to the gate was supported by three more locks placed at regular intervals down its length. It was like a fortress.
The most disturbing part of his story was how he had spent the last two months. He had seen almost everything that had happened in the neighborhood from the window in the loft. From the eventual slaughter and conversion to undead horror of most of the residents, to the harried flights of those who thought they would fare better somewhere else. One by one, the houses emptied and he was left the only one without a real way to escape. He said he had seen me run into the house across the street and had been debating reaching out to me when the Elrick’s had left (the people next door).
He had been too afraid, however. He knew that he stood the chance of killing both of us if he made the wrong move. He had taken too many chances trying to go out and find food. He knew he didn't have enough supplies for the both of us. Without a vehicle to move quickly out of the area, there would be no way for us to escape the neighborhood. He felt just as trapped as I did.
But he said he felt something stir in him when he saw them converge on the house. He just didn't want to let one more person die when he knew he could do something about it. So he pulled off the diversion that finally led us to meet up.
He talked nonstop, in a seemingly endless run on sentence. I knew it had been a long time since he had spoken to a live person, so it made sense that he would want to talk until he ran out of words. I listened intently. I too had been yearning for human interaction and it felt good after all the time that had passed.
Eventually I broke in to offer him some food and water. He looked as if I had offered him the world. I pulled a can from the pocket of my pants and his eyes lit up. He had a can opener in his pocket and hurriedly opened it, staring down at the red sauce and noodles inside as if it was a steak and lobster dinner.
As he ate, I told him my story. At least, what I felt was important at the time. He listened with interest until I could tell the food in his stomach had made him feel sluggish and tired. I wanted to take a nap, but I urged him to go first. He needed it a lot more than I did. I wanted to take a chance to change the bandage on my legs and write here anyway.
He didn't need much convincing and that is when he curled up under the window and passed out. I ate a small meal myself and I've been watching out of the window he used to communicate with me, staring at the house across the street that I had just left. I can't believe how lucky I was. I can see them inside, passing in front of the broken kitchen window. Sometimes they tumble out. Sometimes they stumble in. A younger looking man got stuck in the glass and left a large chunk of his flesh hanging there in his efforts to break free. I can't stop staring at it. It's as if my eyes are playing tricks on me. It can't be real.
Around noon today the large garage door was finally overwhelmed. I would say at least 60 undead bodies fell out in a ravenous tumble. I could swear they looked angry to find themselves outside instead of falling into a hideout full of food. Most of them scrambled back into the garage and towards the bashed in door that was barely visible from my vantage point. The truck sat there in all of its tempting glory, the back piled with supplies.
If only I had found the keys and used it, I could be miles from here trying to make it somewhere safe.
Instead I'm stuck staring at all those treasures across the street like a poor kid looking in a toy store window.
Look but don't touch. You'll get your hand bitten off.
I'm getting pretty tired now, I should wake Bren soon. I just need a few hours and then we can talk strategy.
We spent so much time comparing notes of the first days that it never really got to the point where we considered the future, somehow it seems brighter than before. I'm not alone and I have been blessed by having a companion that is smart, eager, and courageous.
I think we'll make a good pair.
64th Day: 9:36 AM
We have decided to stay here for a few more days. The weather has turned gloomy and cloudy and traveling in the rain only leaves us open to getting sick, which could be a death sentence these days. I look forward to being able to take a few more days to regroup. My leg is recovering really well and I'd rather be 100% when we finally set out. I've also embarked on the monthly curse that women must live through.
It might be too much information, but it's important if this journal is ever used to help someone. The last two months were a lot harder than this one. I found some supplies in the house and I'm going to stretch them out as much as possible. The last two months were much different. I had to use stripped and layered cloth that I discarded when it was no longer useful. I was still mobile, but it was quite uncomfortable and messy. I usually ended up discarding the pants afterwards because washing them would waste too much water. It’s a luxury to have actual feminine products, so I’m trying to stretch them out. I am going to make it a point to keep my eye out for them when we loot other places. They are light and easy to fit into small places in my pack so it’s not a big deal to stock pile them a bit.
This new world is teaching me a thing or two about how much I took hygiene for granted. I feel disgusting and filthy, but there are very few options for me. I imagine if I ever find a place to actually stay for longer than a few days I'll figure out a system to use something that can be washed and re-used to conserve my supply of disposable things. It's humiliating for me to deal with this though. Oddly, Bren seems to have grown a thick skin for all things disgusting. He didn't even seem grossed out when I told him we might need to stay put because of my womanly issues. Thank god for that.
We took some time and looked over our supplies. It's pretty limited for two people. What could feed me like a queen for a few weeks will only last us a few days if we don't ration it carefully. Consequently, we have both learned to survive on very little, so it should last long enough.
We spent the early morning hours going over what we need to do. We need to re-supply first and foremost. I dare not approach a store or any place that might be easily surrounded and swarmed. It's just not smart with only two people, and who knows if there will even be anything of use inside.
I proposed a different place to try for. The airport. It's the place that I held up in the longest with Ryan and Adam. It’s been my goal to go back there since we were separated. It’s bound to be deserted now and I can only imagine that a lot of the things we left behind are still there for us to use. I think we have a good plan of action. It's going to require a lot of caution and slow movement, but our chances are good if we are careful.
We marked our course on one of the last maps I still had from the stack that Ryan had printed out.
Ryan.
Adam.
I miss them.
The airport is the last place I saw them alive.
64th Day: 7:15 PM
It's raining outside full force. The streets seem pretty empty. There's only a few of them now, walking jerkily in the rain. I'm not sure where the others have gone. I still see sporadic movement in the other house, but for the most part everything has settled down. I think they realized their prey had escaped and they lost interest.
Do they even have interests? I can't imagine what their "thoughts" must be like. I imagine they are elementary and basic. A part of me wishes I could study them closer. Do they get rid of waste after they've eaten something? Do they need to drink? Even though they don't seem to react to pain, do they feel anything at all? Do they need to sleep? What happens if they don't eat for a long period of time? Do they ever heal from the wounds all over their bodies?
It seems a little morbid and weird to even care that much about how they work when all they really want to do is make me into a snack and subsequently turn me into one of them. Still, it stands to reason that with more information about how they work, we can better understand how to be on the winning side of the battle when it's all said and done.
Bren is in another part of the house. We did a walk through and all the barricades and reinforcements are in place. The backyard hasn't been breached and there is no sign of interest in this house. I think he has been alone so long it's hard for him to stay in the room with me when it’s quiet. We've talked a lot and it feels so good having him around, but I think he needed to be alone.
About half an hour ago he said he was going to use the downstairs bathroom (the toilets don't flush anymore, so using one farthest from where we camp is a good idea) and to do some surveillance of the other side of the house we couldn't see from the loft. I haven't heard any noises from down there, so I know everything is okay. If they had been anywhere near us, it definitely wouldn't be quiet.
I think I'm calm enough to get back to the story now. It's still as important as it was when I first decided to write this journal.
Where did I leave off?
Oh, I remember now. We were on the road into the San Fernando Valley. Tina was starting to break down... and I couldn't blame her. The world was insane.
I tried my best to comfort her by asking distracting questions. That's when I learned her name and that she was only 16 years old. Tina seemed to calm a little as she spoke, so I let her go on to tell her part of the story as we navigated closer and closer to the heart of the beast. I was glad she was talking instead of looking ahead at the plumes of black smoke that filled the landscape. We were about 20 minutes from heading straight into it and I needed her to be calm.
Tina told me that she lived about 15 miles from my apartment on the other side of town and was the first in our group to witness a military sweep. Her entire neighborhood was taken out without any warning. It was puzzling to think of their methods and why they started in the more northern sections of the city. I really can't claim to understand why they did any of it. Something told me that an order to slaughter innocents wasn't being followed with haste by anyone who had a heart and that's why it took them so long to get to my apartment complex.
Honestly, I'm not sure which is worse, zombies or an armed force being told to murder hundreds of people to stop the spread of infection.
She had been in her pajamas and woken up by her father in the night. Tina's father had told her to flee and basically pushed her out of a first floor window. She had just started running blindly, the terror of gunshots filling the air. Somehow she made it out of the area without being spotted and simply ran without purpose, avoiding the military convoys and places where gunfire was heard. She found some clothes in the backseat of a car she slept in it the night before she made it to our complex.
Tina went on to describe all of the military vehicles that were in the streets. The soldiers with guns and the general destruction that had already taken place was all she could remember of her journey across the valley. Everything in sight was riddled with bullet holes, windows broken, doors pulled off their hinges. People had begun to loot and the military wasn’t stopping them. Their only concern had been to keep them within the perimeter they had set up. She found her way to our apartment by jumping over the back wall just as a convoy of trucks was moving away. Little did Tina know they were making room for bigger trucks and before she knew it she was boxed in with nowhere to run. When they began their sweep of the complex, she simply ran in a blind panic. She saw Adam and followed him.
I felt really sad for her. Her entire life had just exploded and there wasn't much I could do to make her feel better. I turned to look at her as she thanked us for letting her come with us. She had beautiful cinnamon colored skin, long curly brown hair and big brown eyes smeared with make up. I guess she had fallen asleep with it on, thinking she'd have plenty of time to wash it off the next morning... a morning that was replaced with horror and running from a danger she had no idea how to deal with. I remember her reaching up to her cheeks and brushing them, as if the black smudges there were the last parts of her life left.
I reached back and squeezed her hand. I wasn't sure if she'd continue to thank us once we got into the thick of things, but I promised myself I would try to protect her and keep her safe.
Around this time Ryan cleared his throat and I turned to look where his finger was pointing.
My breath sucked into the back of my throat. A few miles away a massive pile up of cars was blocking every lane of the freeway. The glinting metal stretched on until I couldn't see anymore. The freeway was completely impassable.
"Hold on guys," Ryan said as he spun the car around to head away from the blockade. He made his way to the next exit and drove over the median to make his way down.
"It's going to get difficult to drive now. The road is too messed up. We might be forced to take some of this trip on foot." Ryan’s voice had once again taken on the authoritative tone of someone who had been in the military. I grabbed the side of the seat as we made a wild turn to avoid two cars that had smashed headfirst into each other at the end of the off ramp. Difficult was an understatement.
The chaos that was all around us made my head swim. Fires had broken out in several places filling the sky with clouds of thick smoke. The street was littered with wrecked and abandoned cars. The air that seeped in through the air conditioning ducts smelled of oil and fire and another very pungent and undeniable odor. Rot. Rotting vegetation, rotting meat, rotting corpses.
They were everywhere. Bodies without limbs. Bodies without heads. Bodies with their abdomens carved out and strewn around them in red splashes of gore. To make it worse, many of those same corpses were up and walking around. They seemed in a chaotic daze, grabbing at each other and anything else that moved. I saw one snatching at a swirling plastic trash bag that had caught in some tree branches.
I looked back at Tina who had gone back to burying her face in her knees. I was glad she had decided to not look. The horrors that were passing us by would be enough to send the girl into a full psychotic break and the last thing I needed was for her to try and jump from the car or not be able to move when we needed to. I glanced at Adam. He was clutching the pistol we had given him in both hands, his eyes darting in several directions as we passed the insanity in the streets.
It was like he was trying to build up his nerve for when the time came to confront the nightmare. He turned to look at me and gave me a weak smile. He was doing his best and I felt that if it came down to it, he would do just fine. I turned back to our surroundings.
Oddly, the air was quieter than I imagined. The only sounds making it over the hum of the engine were the monotone moans of the creatures filling the streets punctuated by screams that seemed to come from a distance. There were no sirens or noises of helicopters coming to rescue anyone.
