Fading Fast

Wavy brown hair and cheeks flushed pink

Laughter and love despite the fears

Plump body with plenty of time to waste

Disease sets in, but no one can tell

Hair falls out but laughter replaces

Cheeks get sallow but love comes out

Sickness spreads slow and contained

Then one day

Things get rushed

Within a week

Color is gone

Flesh melts

To bone

Laughter ceases

Strength gone

Where did

She go

So

Quickly?

Chapter Eleven

We’ve been at the farm for a few days now. The windows have been boarded up even though there have been no signs of any zombies at our new place in the country. From our drive I am assuming we are somewhere a few hours outside of Lansing. The last town we passed through was half an hour before we ran out of gas. Brian and Tom burned the old couple’s corpses along with their chairs and quilt, and I got the old man’s pistol. I’ve taken to keeping it tucked into my belt loop on the same side as my big throwing knife, after I cleaned off all of the memories of course. I’ve added the machete to my list of weapons on me at all times. I made a strap out of a leather belt in a drawer and an old pink bath towel. It lays slung across my back. The pink and leather really send a fashion statement. It says: I’m in an apocalypse and nothing matches or stays clean, and most people don’t have a katana with a beautiful case just lying around.

Carl, Tom, and I have been throwing knives for the past few days to kill time. I hate to brag, but I am by far the best. Brian throws, but only when Tom is not around and vice versa. Emily and Lila usually just watch for a few minutes then get bored and leave.

Today I am throwing alone, and I am about to release when I hear Persistence barking off in the distance. He is behind a blue, dilapidated shed about 20 yards from me. I jog over there and see him with his hair raised along his back. He is looking into a dug out hole under the building. I whistle and he trots over to me, wagging his tail. I flip the knife in my hand to a more comfortable position and walk to the hole. I look into the darkness cautiously and see a litter of kittens.

Then the momma cat comes around the side of the building with a mouse in her mouth. She sees Persistence and runs to the hole, dropping the mouse. She spins around at the entrance and begins hissing at Persistence. He decides to walk over and before I can call him back he gets a paw across the nose. He runs back to me with his tail between his legs.

“Ya gotta learn to leave them alone,” I laugh. He has a tiny speckle of blood on his nose, but nothing damaging other than to his doggie pride. I walk away and he follows me with his head down.

Later that day after everyone has had a look at the kittens, Mom makes her way out of the house slowly with the walking stick Tom gave her. She has a dish of canned tuna in her hand as she walks over to the litter. Somehow she gets closer than the rest of us before the momma raises her fur.

I wander up beside my mother, who is petting the momma cat slowly, “I wonder why the radiation doesn’t reanimate animal cells. I haven’t seen any zombie bunnies around.”

“I don’t know, Zoe. At this point I’m just thanking God that I made it this far. I don’t have the energy anymore to ask questions. It would be kind of funny if I die of a different type of radiation,” she half smiles to herself.

“Not funny, Mom.”

“I know, I wasn't really trying. I just find it ironic…I think I need to go to bed.” She stands up slowly and the gray momma cat steps back to her nest. I grab Mom’s arm and wrap it around my shoulder. I walk her up to the porch steps and into the living room where the owners were found. We brought a bed downstairs for Mom a few nights ago so she wouldn’t have to go upstairs. It is in the middle of the spacious room, facing away from the bay window so the light doesn’t bother her sleep no matter what time of day.

She curls up under the blankets even though it is a late June warm evening.

I walk back outside and find that everyone is standing on the edge of the field looking and pointing at something. I walk over to check out the commotion.

Off in the distance is a human, either alive or dead, and walking toward us.

“Think it’s a zombie?” Carl asks with excitement in his voice. I can tell he is itching to kill something other than the squirrels on the farm to eat.

We all wait as the single shape stumbles over the clods of dirt in the field.

It appears to be a woman by the stature, and she holds up her arms as she gets into focus. Definitely alive, for now.

“I’m clean! I’m clean!” She shouts over and over at us. Carl puts his gun at rest on the ground and leans on it casually.

She finally reaches our group. Her face is smeared with dirt and her brown hair is in a messy bun. Her green GAP hoodie is ripped on the sleeve.

“Are you in any way infected?” Dad asks, taking charge as this stranger approaches.

“No, just tired and alone,” the woman puts her hands down. Her eyes are sunken in and she looks beat. As if she has spent the past week sleeping on the ground.

“Well, what’s your story?” I ask more snotty than I intended. It’s not like we have anything better to do than listen. So the woman begins.

“My name is Susan and I probably know more than any of you combined,” she gives a small look of superiority to the large group in front of her, but it quickly fades at the effort when she sees that we are unimpressed. “I used to work for the U.S. government. When there was a government, but when we all realized they messed up most of us went back to our homes to prepare.”

“The feds messed up?” Brian asks. Suddenly the group is interested. Everyone adjusts slightly and stands straighter like it will help them listen better.

Susan gives Brian an irritated glance, and then continues, “I went back home to my family and we set out for my parents who live about 15 miles from this farm. My husband and I thought that place would be safe. Our little girl, she was sick. She must have, well she had a scratch on her face when we picked her up from kindergarten, but we didn’t know. She didn’t tell us.” She sounds as if she is trying to convince us, pleading with her own tale.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“We made it all the way to my parents when she turned. She had fallen asleep with a fever on her grandfather’s lap. The next thing I know I am in the kitchen when I hear him yell. I ran around the corner with my mom and he was dead. My little Heather was eating his throat.” She begins to cry then stops herself. She seems cold to me, “My mom ran forward without thinking and Heather bit her on the hand. Then Frank, my husband, ran downstairs to see what was going on. He stopped in the doorway when he saw our little girl. Her eyes were glaring us down. She screamed at us, like a torch was burning her flesh and she started to walk forward. He pushed me back into the kitchen and went towards my mother, but I caught his arm and pleaded for him to get back. I…I knew better than anyone else that there is no saving once infected.”

“We locked all three of them in the living room. We waited in the kitchen, hearing my mother beg to be let out. Then came the fight. We heard them both in there thrashing around. After five minutes there was silence. I couldn’t do it, so Frank walked in and shot them all in the head with his pistol. It wasn’t until later that night when we were getting ready for bed that Frank told me that when he shot my mother the spray had landed in his mouth. He handed me the pistol, telling me to kill him now, that he already had a fever and couldn’t think straight. I just couldn’t do it. So I locked him in the bedroom with the pistol and ran,” she finishes with tears making rivers in her dirty face.

Tom puts a hand on the woman’s shoulder. She stops crying, but looks up at us. She is staring at the knife on my hip when Brian speaks up, “What did the government do?”

“I was hoping someone would be smart enough to remember that,” the woman chides. How can she be so snarky after just crying? “I need food, and clean water, and clothes. Then I will tell you.”

“So you are smart,” I say, “A smart ass.”

We feed and clothe Susan. We are all sitting in the kitchen when she finally decides to let us in on her dirty little secret.

She finishes the last bite of canned corn then begins, “I’m sorry I was so deceptive earlier. I just didn’t know if you people would help me without something to gain,” she almost looks sincere in the dying sunlight.

“The world may be going to Hell, but we are not all demons,” Brian says, and I remember that’s one of the things about him that caught my attention. He always had something deep to say when the time called for it, a nice change from my never serious family. I walk around the kitchen and light a few candles.

Susan continues, “True, but one can never be certain. However, you are all here to hear what I know, so here it goes. The story that was sent out about the radiation from the meteor shower was true. Mostly. My department had been researching this oncoming shower for months, along with many other research labs around the world. We discovered about a month in advance from the shower that there was a strange sort of radiation in the rocks. We knew it was foreign and strong, but not much else, let alone that it could raise the dead.”

“This was reported to the U.S. and many other nation’s government and military officials. I’m not even sure if the President ever even heard of it. I just did research, not communications. I was informed that we were to keep our finding under wraps. The countries that did know about the shower came together along with a few scientists from each nation. For research purposes and, well to tell the truth, population control they decided to infect certain water supplies.”

“What water supplies, I do not know. That was confidential information. All I know is that the only city affected in the US was New York, and only the water supplies for low-income areas. There were multiple places in India and China. The cities had to have a population that was getting out of hand, extreme slum areas, and a diverse population for research to be done on all races. They implanted a virus in these areas. One developed long ago for purposes of war. It reacts only with high levels of radiation, but once it has a human host that has extreme radiation levels it provides a quick death on the mutated and weak cells. Violent ill temperament before death was a side effect in the reports, but with all known elements on Earth death was quick and certain.”

“The unique quality of this element to maintain high energy quantum jumps with a relatively long half life was true in the media. After people were infected with both the virus and the element they passed away as planned. The reanimation was the problem. Of course the media wasn’t allowed to say that the government officials screwed up an attempt at world population control, so the half assed radiation story went out,” Susan takes a drink of water and sits silent, landing the glass too hard on the kitchen table.

“So that explains why it can spread like sickness,” Lila says.

“No shit, Sherlock,” retorts Susan. Then apologetically, “Sorry, I haven’t slept well in over a week.”

Everyone seems to ignore her comment. Like this new presence is still undecided to be dealt with or gotten rid of. Her attitude means nothing to us. We have been through worse and her vinegar is just one more thing we will use to silently weigh our opinion of her.

“Population control? All of this sick shit for an experiment!” Dad yells.

I can’t believe it myself. How can a group of people be so cruel? I can feel my heart beating hard in my chest. I want to break something, but Brian does it for me. He punches the wall over the stove and leaves an indent.

“Are you lying?” I ask Susan.

“Why would I lie? I have nothing to gain by telling you how sick the world was even before it got infected.”

I want to hurt anyone involved in this. Anyone who signed a paper for the experiment, anyone who saw a result, knew anything. I want them to bleed like we are, like millions of people have. I stare Susan down for a minute. She can’t keep eye contact. Finally, Dad breaks the silence.

“There are only three bedrooms. Tom and Carl, then Zoe and Brian, and Lila and Emily. I’ve been sleeping in the living room with Ruth, my wife. She’s been sleeping this entire time. I’m going to go check on her, but if you kids want to separate boys and girls to open up a bedroom for Susan, that’d be great.” He starts toward the door, grabbing a flashlight off the table. “Oh, Zoe, hand me a water bottle for your Mom.” I reach into a cabinet behind me with water and a few jars of baby food reserved for Mom.

I see Susan eyeing the water bottle and then looking at her own glass of well water as Dad leaves. “Don’t even think about it. This is reserved for Mom. She’s sick,” her eyebrows raise, “No, not sick because of you and the government’s screw up. She has cancer.” I shut the cabinet drawer with a slam and take out my long thrower and grab a sharpening rod from the kitchen block. If she doesn’t get the hint that way she can’t really be as smart as she says she is.

“There’s a couch in the room Carl and I are in,” Tom offers. “So Brian you can have that.”

“Thanks,” Brian actually says to Tom with a polite nod, “Zoe I’ll move your bag into the other room, too,” Brian walks over and gives me an affectionate kiss. One I haven’t gotten in awhile. Then he leaves after giving my hand a squeeze.

“The room in the middle upstairs is yours, Susan,” I slide my knife back into its sheath. Then I turn to Lila and Emily.

“Slumber party.” Lila smiles, trying to lighten the dark mood. Susan stands and pushes in her chair. She leaves the room without so much as a goodbye.

We all head up the rickety stairs to our room. When we open the door a heavy quilt has already been folded over with a pillow at the top in the form of a makeshift bed. My bag is leaning against a wooden chair in the corner. Brian has me all set up already.

“That’s cute,” says Lila, and I am not sure if it was sarcasm or not. Either way a small smile flits across my face. We all nestle into bed, Emily and Lila in the bed and I on my makeshift bed. He used the blankets we have been sleeping on. They smell like him.

It isn’t long before the talking starts. It’s been awhile since we have had a sleepover as strange as this might be, and girl talk takes over. We begin by gossiping about Susan.

“I don’t trust her,” Emily starts in the dark.

“Same here,” I say.

“Well, personally I think I would act the same as her if I ended up with a group of people each carrying multiple weapons,” Lila says.

“So what? My family just so happens to be prepared. If I recall you two didn’t have weapons at all when you found us,” I feel somewhat insulted and yet somehow proud.

“True,” Lila gives in, “and she is a bitch, just a smart bitch. She might be useful though.”

“I doubt it, did you see the way she eyeballed my mom’s water?”

“Yeah, I agree with you though, anyone who can just lock her mother in a room with her daughter zombie is a sick, heartless bastard.”

“Exactly,” I agree.

“So what was up with Brian acting like that? I swear he only does that when Tom’s around,” Emily switches.

“Not true, he’s sweet all the time,” I counter.

“Well, he’s never been one for PDA before. Maybe he’s finally figured out what the rest of us have known since the 6th grade. That little Tommy has a crush on you,” Lila chides. “I like Brian better though. Tom acts like a child, and Brian can clearly take care of you better.”

“Take care of me better?” I ask. I feel insulted.

“Not like you can’t, but let’s face it you can be a klutz. For example, let's say you were dangling from a cliff and someone needed to fight through a mass of ninjas to pull you up, Brian, hands down,” Lila says.

“Just because Tom’s silly doesn’t mean he can’t be tough,” I say. “Besides, this isn’t some novel where a girl gets her fantasy of having two guys chase after her. This is the world ending, and I don’t have time to worry about stuff like that.” I just want the subject to change and it is Emily that comes to the rescue.

“So anyways, what do you think is going to happen with that Susan chick?”

“Don’t know, hopefully she will just leave of her own accord,” I say as I roll over onto my side. “But what she said about the government planning this.”

“It’s inhumane. Well, more than that. This is worse than the Holocaust in numbers of the deceased. We’ve seen friends eat each other, everything has been destroyed.”

“I want to find whoever signed off on this and slit his throat,” I say.

“Yeah,” both Lila and Emily say at the same time. Then there is silence as everyone drifts off to sleep.

I roll over and fold my hands.

Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I die before I wake I pray the Lord my soul to take. Lord, is it wrong that I want to kick someone out? Will you damn me for asking you to get Susan out of here? In bigger news Mom was only awake for a maximum of three hours today; as I am sure you are aware. Now I know you must be busy with the whole world going to Hell thing, but if you could just please perform a miracle, now would be the time to do it. You are supposed to be all-powerful. Fix my mom. Show me that you can help her and the rest of the world. Show me that my family is important to you. Please, let my mother one day live a cancer free life. Amen.