Volume 6: A Walk in the Park 1

THE HOST FROM THE SOUTH

A Walk in the Park I

by J. Ian Manczur

My dearest Felecia,

I thought I had the words to write this. They are failing me. So, I may as well fall on blunt truth. When you awake, I will be gone. You cannot come with me.

It must feel so tragic and so cruel. An unfair gesture in an unfair world. I wish I could explain to you in full, but even now as I write, I am being hurried. I guess time was always against us, perhaps we started out of time. Far from hyperbole though, I cannot muster the truth that you deserve.

There are certain expectations of me as a leader. Although, in many ways, the old rules no longer apply, I need to hold myself to their standards. I have built myself on a foundation of the old world and, with that, I have damned us.

Promising you anything was a mistake. It would cause a rift with my people that would never resolve. I do not want forgiveness, you have every right to hate me. I don’t even expect you to understand why. These are the sacrifices we must make. Perhaps, when the world grows a little saner, we will meet again. Until that time, stay safe, Felecia. I am truly sorry.

With all my heart,
Thomas Sarnowski

Volume 6: Dead Dogwood Avenue Blues: Nathaniel's Journeys Part 2

Dead Dogwood Avenue Blues: Nathaniel’s Journeys Part 2
by Scott Thurlow

Nathaniel was entering another abandoned suburb.  He could tell by the silence as he approached it.  It was a natural type, just quiet enough.  No trouble should be around to impede his usual search and scavenge methods.  He went about to the normal spots, where people most often left goods unused in their homes, or fled without taking them.  Nathaniel found a few remaining intact and usable items (batteries and duct tape being some of the more prized of such) which he packed neatly away in his bag before continuing his ransack of the dead town.

As he went on to the next house, he almost tripped over something.  Lying by the side of a shallow ditch was a dead dog.  Its eyes had been picked out by carrion-feeders of one kind or the other.  Its tongue lolled out from the side of its mouth.  Blood or bile matted its tattered greasy black fur, slicking it down in ratty clumps.  Nathaniel glanced up at the street sign on the corner without really knowing why.  It proclaimed the street he was on: Dogwood Avenue.  Nathaniel didn’t see many dogwood trees around the neighborhood, but that sign, named such, and the dog itself, was bringing another memory rushing back to him.

It was the time Nathaniel found himself being chased by a wild pack of formerly family dogs.  There were four of them.  In the wake of the structural breakdown caused by the human infection, household pets were rediscovering their ancient instincts.  Foremost, that they didn’t really need humans to keep them fed after all.  At least, not with dog food.  Friendly Fido furiously and fearsomely went ferociously feral.  Nathaniel stumbled into this new reality as he was searching for useable utilities, performing the same task he currently was.  It seemed things in life were constantly trying to eat Nathaniel.  Then, as now, he often wondered if it would ever end.

The town Nathaniel found himself in at the time was a nondescript, generic, mediocre America type of place.  He remembered then how closely it resembled his hometown much in a way.  Nathaniel had never really noticed how alike all of them were, until he had to go from each to the next.  “Americana”--approximations of the cherished idea of The American Dream.  All packaged and produced wholesale across the country.  (Even the dogs were mostly indistinguishable from each other.)  Then abandoned en masse when the dream roller-coasted away into a nightmare, one also shared by the entire world.

Nathaniel had been salvaging what he could from the wreckage of that crushed, destroyed dream, to continue living to mourn its demise.  He remembered sifting through scraps of anything useful left by those swallowed up by its death-rattle, when had just enough time to look up at the noise (a noise which didn’t sound like the infected, but was nevertheless alarming) and see the surprisingly speedy pace by which the pack was advancing on him.  It was all strangely familiar to him at the time.  Déjà vu of impending doom, but this time via rabid canines.

He had left his car too far away to easily retreat to, so he ran in the other direction, back across the lawn and around to the other side of the nearest house.  In its backyard was an above-ground pool and patio set.  As generically manufactured as the rest of the town itself.  Nathaniel ran towards it without a second thought.  He had to hastily avoid tripping over a faded white plastic lawn chair that was in his path.  The lead dog followed at his heels as his momentum brought him to the edge of the pool, then up, over, and into it.  Nathaniel flopped into the water with a splash as the dog made its own remarkably timed leap and followed him in.

There was a half-deflated polka-dotted plastic seahorse in the pool that Nathaniel tried pathetically using to fight the hound at first.  When it bit through the float toy in half, ripping it from Nathaniel’s grip, he found himself grappling barehanded with the beast.  He managed to quickly wrap his hands around its neck and halt it before its jaws could close in on him.  A flash vision of Anna flew in front of his eyes, before his attention was snapped back to the fierce animal.

With no other options in sight, and feeling the instinct rise up in him, Nathaniel plunged the dog’s head under as forcefully as he could manage, submerging it under the grimy water.  He wasn’t sure exactly how long, but it didn’t seem like much more than a minute or two before the dog ceased its rage and bobbed lifelessly beside him, like the sadly shredded seahorse, in the water.  The other three still surrounded the pool yipping and snarling incessantly.  Nathaniel had no time to cry over a dead dog.  He looked around and spotted an elaborate children’s playset in the next backyard, beyond the short picket fence that separated the two homes.  With the now depleted pack watching and hungrily tracking his every move, Nathaniel balanced up on the edge of the pool and readied himself to jump.  His clothes dripped scummy water and he shook himself off as best he could before having to make his next move.

He was able to just clear the fence as the dogs came howling behind him.  Nathaniel headed towards the red slide of the playset.  He didn’t see at first the number of other dead and half-eaten smaller animals scattered in this yard.  Squirrels, rabbits, what looked like a calico cat, all reduced to bloody leftovers and gnawed bones.  Nathaniel skirted around them to the playset and ran to the slide, shimmying upwards while grabbing its edges for balance.  When Nathaniel made it to the top, the dogs jumped and slid down it in vain a couple of tries (luckily his damp clothes had slicked the slide, making the dogs’ task more difficult) before settling on pacing and snapping impatiently around the perimeter of the playset itself.  He looked then to the screen door at the back of the house he was at.  It stood ever so slightly ajar.  He couldn’t make out much more of the view inside.  Nathaniel felt it was his best hope though, far better than being trapped outside on top of the playset.  He gauged the quickest way off the slide and through the door and into what would hopefully be a safer place.

Nathaniel wasn’t quite fast enough to slam the door shut completely behind him.  A single member of the pack had made it through inside with him.  Nathaniel dove to the side of the first piece of furniture he saw, a bland cream colored couch.  The dog wasn’t prepared for this and carried a bit past the couch, skidded across the tile floor as it tried to halt itself, before finally bouncing off a kitchen cabinet.  It let out a wounded yelp.  Nathaniel decided to act while the mutt was still stunned.  He ran towards what he figured was the hallway leading to the front door of the house.  The dog recovered itself and rapidly resumed its course, but Nathaniel had reached the exit ahead of it with seconds to spare.  Shutting the lock into place behind him, he slammed the door and found himself back outside, on the front steps of the home.

The remaining two dogs had apparently plotted his course and were not interested in giving up the chase any time soon.  They were waiting for him just outside.  Nathaniel decided the house trick had worked once and still seemed the safest option.  He ran in a beeline to the backyard of the neighboring house to see if it or any others had also been left open.

It took him a few more houses before he spied another open back door.  Nathaniel zig-zagged this time across the yard, hoping to confuse the dogs, or at least tire them out, as he himself was expending much more energy than he was originally expecting to on this excursion.  For this attempt, he tried to purposefully lead the dog through the door with him, hoping to be better prepared for his next action.  What he was not prepared for was the sight inside.

Nathaniel had indeed managed to successfully trap himself in with yet another dog.  Inside this second house however was a circus of another kind.  If when it rains, it pours, then today it seemed to be a hurricane of canines and felines.  Dozens of cats wandered the house, or lounged on pieces of furniture.  Some mewed but most milled about or looked lazily up from their resting perches.  That is, before they got wind of the hungry hound that had entered their domain.  The interior erupted into chaos, the cats scattered in all directions as the dog tried to decide which one it most wanted to chase, abandoning Nathaniel as intensely as it had started hunting him.  Nathaniel locked this dog alone in the house with the army of cats.  It might have been a fair fight.  Either way, he was left with just one canine assailant on his trail now.

With the faint sounds of the animal orgy he had just created and left emanating from the house, Nathan saw that the last dog awaited him patiently in the street.  It stalked back and forth, no longer rushing blindly at him, having had time to recover itself.  Now, it was intensely focused on Nathaniel, despite its successive loss of pack mates.  Perhaps it had decided to see this battle to the bitter end out of a sense of revenge, so bent did the animal seem to be on finishing the pursuit.  It glared and growled menacingly at him from a short distance away.  Nathaniel knew it would soon spring and frantically surveyed his surroundings for an escape.

A few yards away, he could make out a shed of some kind.  It appeared quite sturdy.  Another staple of middle class home owning.  The metal door swung open and shut a few times, banging in the breeze, then settled.  He headed towards it.  The dog sensed his intentions and was on his trail in seconds.

In a turn of maneuvers that worked out again in his favor, Nathaniel reached the door and grabbed its edge, slamming it shut behind him in one smooth series of motions.  He heard it click into place.  He was safe, for the moment.  Protected by what appeared to be a well-stocked gardening enthusiast’s or construction worker’s supply shed.  Shovels, rakes, and a variety of other implements of all shapes and sizes hung adorning its walls and shelves.  Two chainsaws, one larger and the other smaller, leaned side by side in a corner.  A number of two-by-fours and a table saw lay across a wooden workbench.  Outside the shed, the last dog was wildly jumping and pounding against the door, barking nonstop and producing a raucous riot of noise.

Nathaniel looked around at the items contained in the shed and thought for a minute.  He then selected a medium sized hammer and a small pair of recently sharpened hedge shears.  He crept to the door, slowly unlocked it and kicked it open with more force than he thought he had in him.  There was nothing there.  A split second later, the last feral canine pounced on him, barreling in unseen from the side.  Nathaniel dropped the hammer as he was knocked off balance by the force of the dog crashing into him.  He fell and rolled, tumbling across the ground with it, attempting to grapple it in the same way as the one in the pool; but finding the circumstances and field of battle much more to his disadvantage this time.

The tangle of Nathaniel and dog came undone a few feet away from the shed.  Nathaniel realized in an instant that he still gripped the shears in his other hand.  He had just enough time to glance up as the dog came snapping back at him.  He lashed out and slashed at its snout.  As a splatter of its blood hit his face, Nathaniel saw that his wild swipe had caught the thing low across the throat with the shears, and mercifully ended its life.  Nathaniel flopped back as the dog’s dead weight fell on top of him.  He coughed, then rolled aside and pushed the carcass off.

Nathaniel sat up.  He was panting like a dog himself with exertion, and finally starting to feel the chill seep into him from his wet clothes.  But all seemed quiet again.  He glanced about.  Nothing new appeared to be menacing him just then.  Nathaniel got up to check himself.  He had had suffered some cuts and bruises in the struggles, but was otherwise unhurt.  His travel pack was sealed and no supplies seemed to be ruined.  He had survived the bizarre battle.

Nathaniel looked over again to the dog whose throat he was forced to slice open moments ago.  He leaned over to inspect its collar and attached tag.  At first he thought it read: Rex but upon closer examination, he could make out it was actually: Max.

“Sorry Max, old boy, but it was going to be either you or me,” Nathaniel quietly mumbled as an apology to the slain canine lying beside him.  He realized he was actually (albeit a bit guiltily) relieved that everything had turned out the way it did, versus some of the many alternatives.

Nathaniel wondered at the time if anyone else had ever had to dispose of attacking animals in any such manners.  He supposed it was possible, but as far as he knew, he was probably the only person in the world who could make the claim.  It wasn’t exactly the most comforting feeling in the world, but it seemed like something to Nathaniel.  He would see many more things beyond duels with wild dogs, and ponder the same type of question many times.  But for that day, he had escaped the animals and had to concern himself with the next unforeseen peril.  He gathered himself up and prepared to finally exit the dead town, which was now populated with four more canine carcasses.

Before he left, Nathaniel reached back over to the one lying by the shed and carefully removed its collar.  “Sorry again, Max,” he said as he patted its unmoving body.  He put the tag in his pocket, perhaps for luck, or so he told himself then.  He decided that he would take the shears with him as well.  He stashed them in his pack and headed back.

As he trudged cautiously to his car, after checking all the way for hidden attackers of any species, Nathaniel found himself wondering also how many other freshly formed wild packs of previously tame dogs had come running through how many other neighborhood yards.  He also wondered whom they had belonged to, and what their former owners might make of the fate their pets had met at his unwitting hands.  Most likely they would’ve behaved in the same manner as the dogs themselves, or worse.

Nathaniel looked down again at the dead dog presently lying in the ditch of Dogwood Avenue and reached in his left pocket.  He pulled out Max’s tag, though the name had become barely legible on the cheap metal’s dull surface.  It served as a reminder that unexpected danger was always lurking.  It was not something he reflected particularly fondly upon, but it still taught him valuable lessons about the new state of the world.  He dug out his watch from his pack and glanced at it.  He did not have any more time to think further about dogs or dogwood, or the lack thereof either.  There were no more dogs, dead or otherwise, to be seen this day, in this faceless town, on the wayside of Dogwood Avenue.  Nathaniel thew the tag down alongside the dog’s rotted body.  Then, he departed the town, like he had from so many others, all so much alike.  He knew fully well that, in some way, every dog has its day.

Volume 6: On the Trail of the Road Agents: The Gravestone of J. Allen Ducock, Sr., Beloved, (Catfucker)

On the Trail of the Road Agents: The Gravestone Of J. Allen Ducock, Sr., Beloved, (Catfucker)
by Scott Thurlow

Dead and mutilated bodies were scattered across the field in front of them. Humans, chickens, pigs, a cow or two in their best judgement. It looked like they had all been there a while. Most were dried up; appearing baked. Shriveled in the long days of the sun and other elements they’d been exposed to.

"Think that's a goat there, too," said Agent Toporidel.

"Hrm. Yes. If you say so,” responded Captain Planck.

Ahead, they came to farmhouse. It was a single bedroom that was best ascribed the dimensions of a shanty placed at what they determined to be the northern most edge of the property. It overlooked from the tiny kitchen window a single dirt road that stretched away into the wilderness beyond. A rising hill was visible to the west.

“This isn’t much of a defensible position. Not sure what else is close.”

“Hrm. We could pile the bodies into a wall. It might take a while though.”

It took a while, but not as long as being dead would be. It was an acceptable ratio of work to survivability. When it was done, the shanty-farmhouse was surrounded on three of its sides by a roughly two-body/body- part layer, reinforced with decaying wooden planks. The planks were from a pile they had found in the field and mistook for some of the carcasses at first.

For the door, they had removed its handle, since they decided it wasn’t going to be much use anyway, and no reason to give targets an open invitation. In its place they set two of the most intact planks across with their travel hammer and can of nails.

One knocked on it, and nodded approvingly at the resounding tone. “Seems good enough. Time to eat?” asked Agent Toporidel.

“Hrm. Yes,” replied Captain Planck.

They shared a cold meal of beans and bread.

“What now?”

“Hrm. Now we rest, and watch. As usual.”

“Alright. First guard?”

“Hrm. Yes. After you.”

Nothing came in the night but they had both already decided to leave the farm by afternoon of the next day.

They left the bodies and wood in place as they packed up again, then set fire to it. Some bodies seemed to burn better than others, but most burned more or less at the same rate, after a while. They enjoyed watching the conflagration before finally departing. They followed the dirt road out away from the main plot of land and did not look back.

As they came trudging up the hill they had spied earlier, they stumbled upon a sign lying next to a lump in the withered ground.

Agent Toporidel approached and read aloud the inscription that was on it.

It was thus:

Here lies:
J. Allen Ducock, Sr.
Beloved resident
Who, sadly, succumbed to a disease of insanity in nature,
And was subsequently devoured by his (beloved to all) cats.
And his body, being in a state of recoverability somewhere between therein by:
eaten and half-eaten
by his who are remembered here by the names of: Bella, Samus, Grue, Waldo, Zelda Fitzgerald, Princess Muffykins (mother of) Mewtwocute, King Richard III, Jezebel, and also of course, Lord Whiskers, who was the sire of…
(About a dozen more cat names followed)
Who, upon found having devoured dearly departed Mr. Ducock, Sr.,
were duly and faithfully buried next to their loving owner, in life.

The date underneath was rendered illegible.

They both agreed the obvious humor of the last name lacked the need for an accompanying remark.

Captain Planck said, “Hrm. Shouldn’t it say ‘unrecovered.’ As in, it wasn’t recovered. The other kind of implies…”

Agent Toporidel, retorted, “That is what it implies. Also, uncertain that’s a word. Perhaps they just refused to let a gravestone lie.”

“What, unrecovered? I don’t think this really qualifies as much of a gravestone. Though if it did, you should most definitely, without a doubt, let it lie.”

“Yes, unrecovered. Well, what would you like to call it? What, is it lying about?”

“It’s almost more of a cairn. Nothing.”

“Not really. No rocks involved.”

“Hrm.”

After a few short seconds, Agent Toporidel pronounced, “Such an insipid, unnecessary grave.”

“Hrm. Yes,” agreed Planck. “Let us spit on it.”

They spit upon the grave.

Toporidel continued, “Why so many cats? And why name and title them all, on the grave. Or whatever it may be. Jesus Christ, that is a biblical lineage of cats. Who would have that many cats, and why? Further, why name them all such inane names? To hell with this dead moron and his cats. Rest in peace, you old codger…catfucker.”

“Hrm. Well-said,” Planck offered to his compatriot’s rant.

The setting sun was now going down over the hill where they discovered the sign at the spot that marked the final resting place of one J. Allen. Ducock, Sr. whom, so clearly, was quite the crazed fornicator of cats. And also of all of his great magnitude of litters and royal guard of said cats. The matching body, they agreed, was, if not unrecovered or unrecoverable, (and it could be both, they decided) then definitely not in any kind of state that would warrant itself worthy to being “properly” buried in such a manner. Nor, of course, were all the cats.

They spit upon the grave a second time. Then they discussed the last name before this on the list. The only thing they remembered being recoverable about him, was his head.

Agent Toporidel asked, “Wonder where he was headed? Looks like nowhere now. If it was even the same guy. Catfucker’s head found in burned down shed. We should move on to the next.”

“Hrm. Yes.” Captain Planck agreed again.

They also agreed that “catfucker” was henceforth to be a newly incorporated term of theirs. But, to be used, that is, sparingly, with restraint, and only where most appropriate and/or hilarious.

They cut up the grave sign and used it to start a small but serviceable campfire. They shared another meager meal of canned beans and bread, but this time at least roasted. Captain Planck handed Agent Toporidel his gun. He watched while Planck ate or slept. Then they switched. This was the plan all night.

In the morning, Agent Toporidel went back and took a last look at the spot on the hill. Captain Planck joined shortly thereafter.

Agent Toporidel gave a short eulogy, “Godspeed, Ducock, Sr., Catfucker.” Both agreed it was the most appropriate, and fitting moment to say such.

“Let us now depart the premises of this fucker of cats grave, and leave it at once.

“Hrm. One last thing,” added Captain Planck.

They both spit a third and final time upon the grave and left it at once. Away with the deceased Ducock, and his cat fornicating ways as well. They packed up their supplies and headed away from the hill. Past the spot and over the rise, to another tract of low lying farmland.

Agent Toporidel asked, "Who does the list say?"

Captain Planck pulled out the carefully preserved page from their pack and answered, "Hrm. Seems the winner is Samantha Klostierman. From Rhubarb, Ilinois."

"That's still rather north a ways."

"Hrm. Yes, so it would appear. And a bit east, too. Is there a different way you'd like to go?"

"I suppose not. There's no one closer, right?"

"Hrm. If there was, wouldn't you think I would've said at the outset of this venture?"

“I was just checking that all the facts were in place."

"Hrm. Why wouldn’t they be?"

"Just checking, is all."

Silence stood between them again, but not an antagonistic kind. They let it permeate the walk for a while.

The next place they came to had less of a farm to it and more of a house. It didn't appear too badly dilapidated. Nor were there any dead bodies to inspect, human or otherwise. They performed a systematic check of the interior, as per usual routine. It had more of an acceptably defensible design, requiring few modifications. They ransacked the house for anything left or discarded that could aid them. Most of the leftover food was spoiled but the previous occupants had neglected to take a couple of cans with them into oblivion.

Toporidel contributed, “More beans. Can always use them."

Planck nodded assent. "Hrm. Yes indeed. Breakfast of champions."

They found a few items of note to add to their collection. Mostly kitchen household appliances and utensils that could be used to augment what they had already accrued.

They decided to spend a few days. Samantha Klostierman, from Rhubarb, Illinois, would have her time. And they theirs.

They stayed in the house for four days until such time upon when it was decided and agreed upon to leave once again.

In two more days they were no longer following dirt or local roads, instead having come to a major highway after emerging from the woods and crossing over to it. Cars were abandoned at various spots. The highway had more bodies scattered intermittently along it. They whittled the time by keeping count until they passed a road sign overhead that announced they were 74 miles from Rhubarb.

"Should be there before the week ends."

"Hrm. Yes. So it seems. Then what?"

"Then, we hope things go better there, or I swear by old Mr. Ducock, god rest his crazy cat fucking soul, we, and by extension, Ms. Klostierman herself, are all going to be rather unhappy. Again."

“Hrm. Yes. Excellent use, as well.”

“Agreed.”

There was nothing else to be said about the matter at the moment, so they journeyed some more before selecting a car to use as a hut for the night. They would have driven, but both knew cars could attract attention these days, of the usually unwanted kind.

Days passed as they moved from car to car like silent bees, draining them of anything useful, before methodically moving on to the next.

Fifty miles later, another road sign informed them it was now exactly 14 miles to Rhubarb. Precisely on schedule for their purposes.

Fourteen miles after that, Captain Planck checked that they had the correct address as they entered the town of Rhubarb.

Agent Toporidel declared that here in the town, could be finally what they were looking for.

Planck replied with a standard rejoinder, “Hrm. We’ll see.”

They saw. It wasn’t much. The town had clearly been overrun in a rush and left behind. Now almost nothing remained. No signs of any stragglers left behind to scavenge and pick its bones clean. Great piles of dead leaves blew through the streets constantly, forcing them both to shield their eyes from the drifting debris.

Samantha Klostierman’s house was in the middle of a row of fairly similar ones. She didn’t answer the door, which they took to be an ominous sign. It opened easily and they peered into a darkened hallway that led to a living room. The kitchen was adjacent. A staircase in the foyer led up.

Agent Toporidel inquired, “Upstairs first?”

Captain Planck was firm, “Hrm. No. Ground floor.”

The living room contained nothing special. It had long been plundered of anything useful. The kitchen was mostly the same. In any case, they agreed that they weren’t going to take anything.

“Upstairs it is then.”

“Hrm. Yes. Let us go.”

They guessed they had found Samantha Klostierman’s room because it was the only room upstairs aside from a bathroom that was pathetic in its bareness. An odd design for a house, but the fact was no help to them.

Of little Miss Samantha herself, there were not many signs. They combed through the dressers and closet and uncovered some dregs of dresses with tacky designs and twenty pairs of shoes, but found nothing that could provide any further direction.

Toporidel stated grimly, “Looks like we’re going to be unhappy.”

“Hrm. Didn’t we check everything?”

“Let us check again, just in case.”

They checked again. Upon the second search, they stumbled on a hastily scribbled note half-wedged and hidden under the corner of a dresser. They deciphered its brief message:

Went to West Freemantua!! Meet me please, pLEASE!!
-Sam k.

“That’s helpful. It’s something, anyway.”

“Hrm. Yes. Yes, it is.”

The city mentioned was another hundred or so miles south, but still roughly east.

“Looks like we’re going on the road, again.”

“Hrm. Yes. Here we go. It’s going to be for a while.”

Thus they went. On the road. Again. It was a while.

Volume 6: Precipice

Precipice
by Steven Ormosi

AJ walked out of Mayor Jenkins’ office with a newfound sense of importance. He was going to be instrumental in developing the cure. He was going to be the one who determined if it was safe to go outside the walls. He was going to be a hero. The mayor had told him as much.

He had been going stir crazy in the lab lately. Nothing ever seemed to bother Dr. Harvey. She could always maintain her veneer of scientific detachment. AJ on the other hand felt constantly claustrophobic. Even though he knew he was doing important work with the infected and helping to ensure a future, he had begun to lose his cool. A blessing, that’s what this trip was. He strolled back towards Dr. Harvey’s lab with purpose.

Upon entering the lab, AJ could immediately tell that something was wrong. It was too quiet. Where were the infected banging on their cages? Paralyzing fear came over him then. How could they have gotten free?

“Dr. Harvey?” He shouted into the silence. “What’s going on?”

No answer. This was not good. He took the shotgun they kept near the entrance and walked towards the back hesitantly. There was still no sound. How could they have all escaped? He slowly opened the door.

Nothing. They were all gone. There was no blood, no sign of anything. He heard a footstep behind him and whirled, bringing the shotgun up.

Dr. Harvey screamed, “AJ, no!”

AJ managed to stop himself from pulling the trigger even though he was shaking like a leaf in the wind. “What the hell is going on, Dr. Harvey?”

“Oh, Jesus,” she managed looking out from behind her hands, which she had put up for defense. “I didn’t know you were going to be here this afternoon, I thought you had a meeting with the mayor. And will you put that thing down!”

AJ lowered the gun, “Sorry, I was just terrified that they’d escaped. The meeting with the mayor is over, I was coming to tell you about it when…well, this happened. Where are they all?”

“I’m changing labs, AJ, we’ve got a more secure location about two blocks away. I was going to tell you tomorrow when I saw you.”

AJ breathed a sigh of relief, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t think it was going to happen so quickly. We got the resources we needed for the move and we got it underway. I didn’t want to wait.”

“I should’ve been here to help. How did you move them?”

“Oh, it wasn’t a problem, just tranqed the hell out of them and loaded them into a covered truck. It went pretty quickly. Permission to use the truck was what I’d been waiting for, so as soon as I got it, I started packing everything up. There was one unfortunate accident. One of the orderlies was bitten.” Dr. Harvey’s mood went sour. “It was…unpleasant.”

AJ was horrified, “Who?”

“Caleb. I liked him. But now you know why we have to be as careful as we can, one mistake and you’re a goner.”

“Is he—“

“He’s in a quarantine cage right now, just waiting. It’s awful. I keep trying to distance myself, tell myself that I have to look at him scientifically now, but the only thing I can see are his eyes, pleading for me to put him out of his misery. I wish I could.”

“Dr. Harvey, we should help him.”

“Oh, AJ, we couldn’t even if we wanted to, he’s under lock and key now in the quarantine zone. They won’t bring him to the lab until later.”

“We have access to those areas. We could figure something out. He worked for you, Dr. Harvey, you can’t just let him change into a monster. Look, I have nothing but respect for you as a scientist, but if you let Caleb go through that, I’m not sure I can respect you as a person anymore. What if it was me?”

“We all make our own choices, AJ. Caleb knew there were risks when he agreed to help us with our research, just like you do. Should we kill all of the specimens just because they used to be human? Hell, some of them still are. We can’t just ignore the established protocol because someone who’s been bitten is our colleague.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

“I’m sorry, AJ, it’s the way things are.”

“Save it, doctor.” AJ spat as he stormed out.

************************************************************

Later that night, AJ showed up to the quarantine cages with a handgun tucked into his pants. There was extra security. The guards at the front stopped him, “Sorry, sir. No more traffic through the cages tonight.”

AJ was crushed; she must have told them he was coming. He didn’t think Dr. Harvey would have given him up. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“We really aren’t supposed to say anything about it.”

“I need that information,” AJ pulled out his credentials, “I work in the city lab, those are our specimens.”

“Alright, alright. Some bum came in here earlier and just started popping all the null skulls. He got six of them before we could stop him. They’re cleaning up inside right now.”

AJ was confused, “How did he even get in?”

“He had an ID, must’ve stolen it from someone. Anyway, I guess one of the guards didn’t check it thoroughly enough because they let him through.”

“What’d you do to the guy?”

“We had to take him out. Larry over here popped him,” he motioned at the man standing near the door, “Dumb bastard just wouldn’t stop firing. He kept yelling, ‘Give me my family back!’ It was unreal.”

“Wow…do you have a list of which ones were killed?” AJ asked.

“It’s classified for everyone except the mayor and Dr. Harvey. Sorry about that.”

Something wasn’t adding up, who would be careless enough to let a streety steal their papers? “Ok, thank you…”

“Stan.”

“Thanks, Stan”

Stan said, “Sure thing, sir. Now clear outta here before you get us in trouble.”

Larry grunted.

AJ turned around and walked to Dr. Harvey’s house.

*************************************************************

When he got there, AJ knocked on the door. A few moments later, Dr. Harvey appeared wearing a robe.

“Hello, Dr. Harvey.” AJ said, “Did you hear about the quarantine cages?”

“Yes, yes, it’s a terrible tragedy.” She didn’t look too broken up about it.

“Was Caleb one of the occupants that were killed?”

“I’m really not allowed to say. Mayor Jenkins classified the information immediately.”

“Classified, right. Did you do get that man to do that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about AJ and it is unwise to level accusations at your superiors without proof. See you in the lab tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Dr. Harvey closed the door.

*************************************************************

The day before he was to leave, there was a transfer of infected. There were only two. Caleb was not in the group. AJ was relieved.

Dr. Harvey was busy checking them in, and making sure all the proper forms were filed and approved. He walked over to her. “Looks like Caleb didn’t make it that night,” he said.

“Looks that way,” she responded curtly.

“Dr. Harvey, I’m leaving tomorrow and I just want to say, I know it was you that got the man in. No one is careless enough to leave those kinds of credentials just lying around where anyone could find them.”

Dr. Harvey stopped writing and looked at him, “I told you the other night, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

AJ continued, “I went there that night with a gun. I was going to do it myself. You saved my life.”

“Well I’m glad that someone else could take the bullet for you.”

“I feel really badly about that.”

“Look, AJ. If someone had to die that night, I’m glad it wasn’t you. But you really need to reconsider the work you’re doing if you can’t separate yourself from it.”

“But you couldn’t either. You couldn’t let me go and get myself killed.”

“You give me too much credit, AJ. I told you, I didn’t do anything and you’ll never hear me say otherwise so just stop trying to get me to admit something and get back to work or I’ll kill you myself and then that man at the cages died for nothing. Have you made all the preparations for Exploration One?”

“Yes, I’ve got a zombo protection suit and a sawed off. We’ll also be—“

“Wait. Zombo protection suit?”

“Yeah, that’s what the scavengers who collect the materials for the suits call them.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Hey, I just go by what they tell me. We’ll also be carrying several sterilized collection jars. I have a full biology kit, five notebooks, twenty pencils and a razor to sharpen them with. If I realize I don’t have something that I need, we’ll bring it the next time out.”

“Ok, if you meet anyone else out there, be sure to question them, but be careful, they could be carriers.”

“I know, I know. I’ve got it all.”

“AJ, as long as your heart is in it, we need you here, so get out of the waste in one piece, alright? Watch your back.”

“I will Dr. Harvey. Thank you. For everything. See you on the other side.”

Volume 6: Constituent Parts

Constituent Parts
by Steven Ormosi

“I want that motherfucker found,” Kelly shouted, “Alive or dead, I don’t give a damn anymore. After what he did to Jonah, he doesn’t deserve that distinction.”

Perry, her right hand man, nodded, “We’re working on it, Kel. He’s just not going to be that easy to find. Unfortunately, we don’t have too much manpower for searching. We have, what, ten people to cover an entire city? All we can do is canvass the neighborhoods and you said yourself you don’t want innocents getting hurt. Well people are scared of Billy and scared people aren’t always the most forthcoming unless they’re more scared of something else. We’ll let you know as soon as we’ve got something.”

Kelly and Perry were sitting in the bar. She had called him here to discuss hunting down Billy the Kid. So far they hadn’t found shit, but that couldn’t be helped. The little fucker was slippery as an eel and a lot more dangerous. Kelly was not keen on losing any more of her friends or associates to that scumbag, so they had to be careful.

She was still mourning Jonah, who it had turned out wasn’t killed that day on the Wall as everyone had been told, but had been kidnapped by Billy’s underlings to try and swing the vote towards Donovan. When he had dissented, they killed him. Not only did they kill him, but they did it in the most horrific and undignified way possible. Jenkins’ men had found him in a quarantine cage, changed into a null skull as they called them on the Wall. Jenkins had to have him put down. Like a fucking dog. When she found out, Kelly had vowed that Billy and Max Donovan would be put down too.

She missed Jonah, missed talking to him at nights, missed drinking with him. She even missed saying goodnight to him. Cute little Jonah, always half asleep over a book, waiting up to say goodnight because he wanted to make sure she’d made it upstairs alright. She always told him that she could take care of herself and he would say, “I know. This is for me, not you.” And she would say, “Thanks, but go to sleep you sound like a fucking high school kid with a crush.” And he would say, “Oh, fuck you, sorry for caring.” But he meant, “Sleep tight, I’ll be here for you if you need me.”

But that was a lie. Because she needed him now.

She shook off the daydream and got back to the task at hand. “Well make sure everyone is on this. It is the most important thing right now. Priority one.”

“Got it. What else do we have going?” Perry asked.

“We’re sending a mechanic on the trip outside. I told Ed I’d get him a good one. Find someone we can trust, I don’t want any screw ups out there. We’re going to need to be able to salvage what we can in order to keep the wheels here oiled. Eventually we need to be able to bring more gas in here, siphoning it from the abandoned cars in the city is only going to go so far. We’re going to be waiting on citywide electric for a while. Ed’s got people working on converting the power plant inside the walls to wind and solar, since we don’t have nearly the amount of coal we need to run it anymore, but who knows how long that could take. I mean, we really just don’t have the tools for it yet. I try to stay away from that stuff for the most part, let the scientists and politicians worry about it, but it is something we’ll hopefully have within a year or two. Meantime, we need to keep our gennys running.”

Kelly continued, “I could use more liquor too, people seem to be shying away from the moonshine, don’t ask me why.“

“Well it tastes like acid mixed with shit, for one,” Perry interrupted.

“Whatever, you’d think people would be happy for anything that makes them forget at this point. Anyway, if you could rustle me up a few bottles from the market, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Ok, I think some scouts may have found some in no man’s land between the walls. I’ll see what I can do.”

“And can you tell Al to take it easy with the bar fights? We’re trying to get on people’s good sides here. We need to rally people around us, not tear them limb from limb.”

“I’ll tell him, Kel. Anything else?”

Kelly walked behind the bar and poured two shots, “Yeah, get some sleep, maybe get laid. You look like shit.”

“That sounds nice.”

“But do all that other stuff I told you first. Here, drink this,” she said, handing him a shot of moonshine.

*************************************************************

After Perry had gone, Kelly took a walk over to City Hall. She had to talk to Ed Jenkins. Luckily she had enough on her plate to keep her mind from drifting to Jonah too often. When she arrived she walked straight into his office.

“You know Ed,” she said, “Security here is for shit, I wish you’d let me post someone to watch your ass. You are aware that you have enemies, right?”

“You worry too much. The only reason you got in here is because my guards know who you are. I want to maintain the appearance of being fully accessible to everyone, not have a brute squad outside my door.”

“I’m just saying, someone strapping the right mix of cleaning supplies could turn you into an ugly stain on your wall.”

“At least then humanity’s fate would be in someone else’s hands.”

“Oh shut up you big cry baby.”

“How’s the mechanic search going?” Ed said, pouring himself a glass of water from a pitcher on his desk.

“It’s going. I’ve got Perry on it right now, actually. We’ll have one by next week. No worries.”

“Good,” Ed said, taking a gulp of water. “It’s amazing. The things we have to worry about now. This water I’m drinking. Know where it comes from?”

“No idea.”

“Filtered rain water. No shit. We collect the rain water, then filter the hell out of it. It’s probably still horrible for you, but that’s about the best we can do. We still have a small store of bottled water for long drought contingencies, but most of the water we have available literally falls from the sky like manna. Since we don’t really have access to any good water supplies here, we have to collect it, we have dozens of rooftop containers that do the job. The point is, I’m worried that we have so much to pay attention to, just to survive, that we’re going to miss something. And if we miss something, that’s curtains for us. Maybe as a species. Why am I responsible for that?”

“Because you were the best person available for the job.”

“Just because I’m better than what we had doesn’t mean I’m the best. I don’t know. I feel like the world is expected of me. How am I supposed to live up to that?”

“Look, Mr. Mayor, I’m not the kind of person that goes in for trying to make someone feel better about themselves. I’m here to get things done. You wanna wallow, do it after I leave, but for Christ’s sake, do it privately. We don’t need the population thinking you’re some whiney pussy right now, or ever.”

Jenkins looked her in the eye, “You think I don’t know that? Why do you think I’m trying to talk to you about it? You’re the one person I can trust to know that this isn’t a sign of weakness. I’m just working through everything that’s going on. Listen, Kelly, you have nothing to worry about with me.”

“Good.”

Jenkins shook off his malaise, “I’ve got some information that will interest you. We think we have the whereabouts of Billy. You know that after his weapons depot mysteriously exploded, he went into hiding. He’s had his head down for weeks, but we got a tip yesterday that he was seen on the east side of town, about two blocks in from the Wall over there. It appears that he has a place on Williams St. So, use that information as you will. I’m going to have some people start combing the area three days from now. It would be a damn shame if he were already dead.”

“I’m sure the public would be outraged,” said Kelly.

“Alright,” said Jenkins, “I’ve got a meeting I need to be at, so we’ll leave it at that today. It’s been a pleasure as always.”

“The pleasure was all mine, sir,” Kelly said, extending her hand to shake.

Jenkins grabbed it and smiled, “Keep doing what you do, Kelly. You’re making this a better town for all of us.”

“You too, Mr. Mayor. Come grab a drink sometime.”

“I will, I will. See you soon.”

*************************************************************
Kelly found herself at the makeshift graveyard near the center of town. It was full. She didn’t like coming here, there were always too many people grieving for their lost loved ones, she felt like she was at a social gathering, not a cemetery. Kelly walked up to Jonah’s grave and took out a copy of The Odyssey and a bottle. She placed his favorite book against his marker and poured two shots of moonshine.

“To liver explosions and brain aneurisms,” she said pouring the shot over his grave and then tipping back her own. “Who dies, you pussy?”

Volume 6 release

Volume 6 of Life After Death will be released tomorrow.  Though we usually strive for the first of the month with our releases, we decided to delay a little for our Halloween specials.

Constituent Parts by Steven Ormosi

-In which Kelly tries to ignore her demons.

Precipice by Steven Ormosi
-In which a man's faith in humanity and faith in science are pitted against each other.

Dogwood Ave. Blues by Scott Thurlow

-In which dogs are no longer a man's best friend.

Road Agents by Scott Thurlow

-In which the romantic interests of a deceased man are questioned.

A Walk in the Park by J. Ian Manczur

-In which an idiom takes on a dangerous new meaning