As the World Dies: Untold Tales Volume 1
Page 21
"Oh." She realized she was stuck and it took a few precious minutes as the zombies jostled each other below for her to finally figure out how to maneuver so she could climb once more. Once she was situated, she began to move upwards and Eric, his arms now tingling and painful, struggled after her.
A few times he checked down below to see that the zombies still had no idea how to climb and the dead one, tangled up at the bottom of the ladder seemed to confuse them. It was a relief and he forced himself to climb as his fingers went numb and his back ached.
Stacey reached the top and quickly ditched the bag and set Pepe down. She climbed down to him and reached down for one of the bags. He let her hoist it off his shoulder and sighed with relief as she carried it back up. She was more physically fit and stronger than he was and he felt a little embarrassed by it. He finally got to the top and pulled himself up. His shoulder was screaming with pain and almost felt dislocated, but he had gotten the precious supplies to the top.
Below, the zombies screamed and shrieked in frustration as they pushed at each other, gathering around the ladder. Another one had managed to step through the bottom rung and was now tangled up with the dead zombie. It kept slamming its fist against the rung above it, but seemed unable to figure out what to do.
"Thank God they're dumb," Stacey whispered.
Eric watched for a moment then slowly rolled up to sit with his back against the tank. Pepe crawled onto his lap and shivered against him.
Too exhausted to move, Eric laid his hand over his dog's back and sighed.
The storm hit two hours later. The dark ominous clouds had been enough warning for them to secure the tent and get their possessions organized. They climbed inside and huddled together with Pepe between them and listened to the wind howl as the rain splattered the tent. Below them, the zombies were unaffected by the rain and continued to moan.
They were quiet and Eric knew they were thinking the same things. How long could they survive up on the water tower? Would the zombies figure out how to climb? Would anyone find them? How long would the food and water last? There were more zombies below than bullets and they were stuck.
The rain poured off the top of the tent and the wind pulled at the edges, but Eric had done a good job securing it. They remained safe, warm and dry, but their spirits were low.
"The Fort is close," Eric said at last. "Peggy said they would send out rescue teams."
Stacey sat next to him, her legs drawn up to her chest, her arms folded across her knees. She looked toward him and sighed. "They don't know we're here."
"Yeah, but we can signal them somehow."
"How?" She looked at him pointedly. The tension in her body said it all. She was terrified.
"I brought duct tape. We'll write the world ‘help’ on the water tower with it. We'll keep a watch for them heading our way and figure out a way to signal them. Fire the gun or something."
"How many shots do we have left in the revolver?"
Eric sighed. "Three."
"And we have six shells for the shotgun."
Eric rubbed his nose and fiddled with his glasses. "You're right. Can't waste the ammo unless we’re positive their close."
"I think we can make the food last three weeks," she said after a beat.
"Water is going to be harder once it’s gone."
"We're on a water tower."
"It's empty I think. For show now." Eric tapped the old-fashioned tank. "But we can rig some water reclamation device for the spring storms. There will be more. Besides, we have to keep positive that they will find us."
Stacey sighed softly and reached out to pet Pepe. "I want to believe you."
"Then do," Eric said firmly. "We'll live through this. I promise."
The next few days they did all they could to secure their little home and make sure the supplies were rationed out. After some exploration, they realized there was no way to access the water tank and make sure it was without water without taking a huge risk to their safety by climbing on top and they abandoned the idea. After Eric studied the wind currents and how the surrounding trees broke up the airflow, he picked out a spot on the walkway that would be their lavatory. It was much easier for Eric to relieve himself, but Stacey was terrified at first to position herself between the rails. Eric rigged up a safety harness for her with ropes. He felt bad for her and he made sure to cut all the wet wipes in half to make them last as long as possible. Pepe, meanwhile, had trouble going at first, having been used to going on the grass, but he finally figured out what was expected of him.
The simple things in life suddenly seemed so hard.
Using bottles, some plastic bags and the rest of the tape, Eric managed to come up with a way to trap rainwater. This seemed to reassure Stacey a little. Their food stores concerned them the most and seeing cans of food littered at the bottom of the ladder was a reminder of Eric's close brush with death and the sacrifice Stacey had made.
Every day Eric watched the Fort through his binoculars. It seemed so close and yet so far. He watched them clear out the zombie bodies, begin to expand the wall, and go about their daily business. And yet no vehicles came near their position and they seemed far away and terribly cut off from the hub of activity and life that was the Fort.
It rained often and if there wasn't lightening, Stacey would stand out in the rain as a form of a shower. Feeling silly, Eric joined her, but then it was rather nice standing in the warm rain watching the sun pierce through the dark clouds above. One day, he looked over at her to see her face turned rapturously upward. What he had at first considered a plain face with a tiny rosebud mouth, rounded cheeks, turned up nose, and big eyes, suddenly looked quite pretty. Prettier than Brandy had ever looked with her immaculate makeup and fancy tresses. He felt humbled by this revelation. His old world was now long gone and Stacey made the life he had now bearable.
“The rain is great,” Stacey said and grinned at him.
He blushed at her catching him staring at her and nodded slightly. “It feels good. And makes them stink less.”
She laughed and he joined her and it felt wonderful.
The rain did dampen the smell of the zombies below and made it harder for the creatures to move around, as the ground became muddy. The dead zombie stuck in the bottom rung continued to confuse the dead and the one that had managed to tangle himself with it thrashed and moaned.
Eric found himself growing fond of Stacey the more he got to know her. She was actually very nice and sweet. He discovered she liked a lot of the movies and books he did and seemed genuinely interested in his job. Since there was nothing else to do, they would talk for hours while Pepe lay between them getting lavished with attention.
At night, they slept head to head, Pepe taking turns sleeping with each one of them.
The days slipped by.
They grew hungrier and weaker as they carefully rationed out their food and water. Stacey made both of them exercise each day to keep some level of fitness, but they both began to be more inclined to just sit and watch the clouds float by as they shared their life stories and their former dreams.
The zombies continued to linger at the base of the ladder, trampling the precious cans of food into the ground. Their numbers increased to nearly thirty and the hope of escaping grew dimmer.
Days became weeks.
One night they heard a motorbike nearby and the sound of a girl screaming. The wail, moans and shrieks of a large pack of the dead followed this sound. Eric and Stacey stood and watched the headlight of the motorbike glide up the street then disappear from view as it swerved toward the fort. The dead following caused enough commotion to pull some of the zombies that had been lingering below to follow. They heard gunshots for a short period of time in the distance and Eric tried to see what was going on using his binoculars. He was able to figure out that something big went down, but the Fort fought it off. He stayed watching the fort for a long time. At one point, it looked like a party was happening on top of city hall and he felt a lump in his throat.
So close, but so far away.
The crowd below was down to fifteen zombies after that night, but they were not badly mutilated and seemed quick on their feet. At times, Stacey and Eric would stare down at them and discuss each one individually. They tried to give the zombies a story, even a name, but they eventually stopped when it became too painful to see them as anything other than a zombie. To see them as human only made their own losses more acute.
The food became scarce. Pepe's bag of food was emptied. They began to feed him the meat from the beanie weenies.
The days slipped on. Their rations became smaller.
"We're starving to death," Stacey said one day. "Pepe is, too."
The little dog lay on his side, his ribs showing, looking as weak as they both felt.
"We can't give up," Eric said to her.
"No one is coming," she whispered.
"They will."
"But if they don't, we'll die up here."
She looked at him with sunken eyes and his heart broke a little. He hadn't realized how hollow her cheeks were now and he realized he had been in a strange denial despite his terrible hunger pangs and constant thirst.
A few times he checked down below to see that the zombies still had no idea how to climb and the dead one, tangled up at the bottom of the ladder seemed to confuse them. It was a relief and he forced himself to climb as his fingers went numb and his back ached.
Stacey reached the top and quickly ditched the bag and set Pepe down. She climbed down to him and reached down for one of the bags. He let her hoist it off his shoulder and sighed with relief as she carried it back up. She was more physically fit and stronger than he was and he felt a little embarrassed by it. He finally got to the top and pulled himself up. His shoulder was screaming with pain and almost felt dislocated, but he had gotten the precious supplies to the top.
Below, the zombies screamed and shrieked in frustration as they pushed at each other, gathering around the ladder. Another one had managed to step through the bottom rung and was now tangled up with the dead zombie. It kept slamming its fist against the rung above it, but seemed unable to figure out what to do.
"Thank God they're dumb," Stacey whispered.
Eric watched for a moment then slowly rolled up to sit with his back against the tank. Pepe crawled onto his lap and shivered against him.
Too exhausted to move, Eric laid his hand over his dog's back and sighed.
The storm hit two hours later. The dark ominous clouds had been enough warning for them to secure the tent and get their possessions organized. They climbed inside and huddled together with Pepe between them and listened to the wind howl as the rain splattered the tent. Below them, the zombies were unaffected by the rain and continued to moan.
They were quiet and Eric knew they were thinking the same things. How long could they survive up on the water tower? Would the zombies figure out how to climb? Would anyone find them? How long would the food and water last? There were more zombies below than bullets and they were stuck.
The rain poured off the top of the tent and the wind pulled at the edges, but Eric had done a good job securing it. They remained safe, warm and dry, but their spirits were low.
"The Fort is close," Eric said at last. "Peggy said they would send out rescue teams."
Stacey sat next to him, her legs drawn up to her chest, her arms folded across her knees. She looked toward him and sighed. "They don't know we're here."
"Yeah, but we can signal them somehow."
"How?" She looked at him pointedly. The tension in her body said it all. She was terrified.
"I brought duct tape. We'll write the world ‘help’ on the water tower with it. We'll keep a watch for them heading our way and figure out a way to signal them. Fire the gun or something."
"How many shots do we have left in the revolver?"
Eric sighed. "Three."
"And we have six shells for the shotgun."
Eric rubbed his nose and fiddled with his glasses. "You're right. Can't waste the ammo unless we’re positive their close."
"I think we can make the food last three weeks," she said after a beat.
"Water is going to be harder once it’s gone."
"We're on a water tower."
"It's empty I think. For show now." Eric tapped the old-fashioned tank. "But we can rig some water reclamation device for the spring storms. There will be more. Besides, we have to keep positive that they will find us."
Stacey sighed softly and reached out to pet Pepe. "I want to believe you."
"Then do," Eric said firmly. "We'll live through this. I promise."
The next few days they did all they could to secure their little home and make sure the supplies were rationed out. After some exploration, they realized there was no way to access the water tank and make sure it was without water without taking a huge risk to their safety by climbing on top and they abandoned the idea. After Eric studied the wind currents and how the surrounding trees broke up the airflow, he picked out a spot on the walkway that would be their lavatory. It was much easier for Eric to relieve himself, but Stacey was terrified at first to position herself between the rails. Eric rigged up a safety harness for her with ropes. He felt bad for her and he made sure to cut all the wet wipes in half to make them last as long as possible. Pepe, meanwhile, had trouble going at first, having been used to going on the grass, but he finally figured out what was expected of him.
The simple things in life suddenly seemed so hard.
Using bottles, some plastic bags and the rest of the tape, Eric managed to come up with a way to trap rainwater. This seemed to reassure Stacey a little. Their food stores concerned them the most and seeing cans of food littered at the bottom of the ladder was a reminder of Eric's close brush with death and the sacrifice Stacey had made.
Every day Eric watched the Fort through his binoculars. It seemed so close and yet so far. He watched them clear out the zombie bodies, begin to expand the wall, and go about their daily business. And yet no vehicles came near their position and they seemed far away and terribly cut off from the hub of activity and life that was the Fort.
It rained often and if there wasn't lightening, Stacey would stand out in the rain as a form of a shower. Feeling silly, Eric joined her, but then it was rather nice standing in the warm rain watching the sun pierce through the dark clouds above. One day, he looked over at her to see her face turned rapturously upward. What he had at first considered a plain face with a tiny rosebud mouth, rounded cheeks, turned up nose, and big eyes, suddenly looked quite pretty. Prettier than Brandy had ever looked with her immaculate makeup and fancy tresses. He felt humbled by this revelation. His old world was now long gone and Stacey made the life he had now bearable.
“The rain is great,” Stacey said and grinned at him.
He blushed at her catching him staring at her and nodded slightly. “It feels good. And makes them stink less.”
She laughed and he joined her and it felt wonderful.
The rain did dampen the smell of the zombies below and made it harder for the creatures to move around, as the ground became muddy. The dead zombie stuck in the bottom rung continued to confuse the dead and the one that had managed to tangle himself with it thrashed and moaned.
Eric found himself growing fond of Stacey the more he got to know her. She was actually very nice and sweet. He discovered she liked a lot of the movies and books he did and seemed genuinely interested in his job. Since there was nothing else to do, they would talk for hours while Pepe lay between them getting lavished with attention.
At night, they slept head to head, Pepe taking turns sleeping with each one of them.
The days slipped by.
They grew hungrier and weaker as they carefully rationed out their food and water. Stacey made both of them exercise each day to keep some level of fitness, but they both began to be more inclined to just sit and watch the clouds float by as they shared their life stories and their former dreams.
The zombies continued to linger at the base of the ladder, trampling the precious cans of food into the ground. Their numbers increased to nearly thirty and the hope of escaping grew dimmer.
Days became weeks.
One night they heard a motorbike nearby and the sound of a girl screaming. The wail, moans and shrieks of a large pack of the dead followed this sound. Eric and Stacey stood and watched the headlight of the motorbike glide up the street then disappear from view as it swerved toward the fort. The dead following caused enough commotion to pull some of the zombies that had been lingering below to follow. They heard gunshots for a short period of time in the distance and Eric tried to see what was going on using his binoculars. He was able to figure out that something big went down, but the Fort fought it off. He stayed watching the fort for a long time. At one point, it looked like a party was happening on top of city hall and he felt a lump in his throat.
So close, but so far away.
The crowd below was down to fifteen zombies after that night, but they were not badly mutilated and seemed quick on their feet. At times, Stacey and Eric would stare down at them and discuss each one individually. They tried to give the zombies a story, even a name, but they eventually stopped when it became too painful to see them as anything other than a zombie. To see them as human only made their own losses more acute.
The food became scarce. Pepe's bag of food was emptied. They began to feed him the meat from the beanie weenies.
The days slipped on. Their rations became smaller.
"We're starving to death," Stacey said one day. "Pepe is, too."
The little dog lay on his side, his ribs showing, looking as weak as they both felt.
"We can't give up," Eric said to her.
"No one is coming," she whispered.
"They will."
"But if they don't, we'll die up here."
She looked at him with sunken eyes and his heart broke a little. He hadn't realized how hollow her cheeks were now and he realized he had been in a strange denial despite his terrible hunger pangs and constant thirst.
