Gregory Norris - Down with the Fallen - A Post-Apocalyptic Horror Anthology

With fall stepping up and the temperatures dropping every morning, I’m increasing my scavenging. When especially needed, I run the house on gas-powered generators; but I’m conservative with their use. I have winter to worry about.

I can’t find the doll in the road anymore. I need to hear from Grandfather. I drive to the mall. The Change left it a nightmare. The parking lot looks like an auto dealership: rows and rows of empty cars. Inside, the absence of people feels almost as creepy as the first time I navigated its walkways littered with burned bodies. It took months to clear out the bodies—from the food court, from the rest rooms, from the play center, from the shops. And weeks more to sweep out the ashes. The place still smells of sulfur.

My steps echo as I pass the dried-out fountain in the center of the mall that’s filled with corroded pennies. In the third toyshop I check, I find a pull-string doll in a corner darkened by a burned-out fluorescent tube. I tear the doll from its packaging. I pull at the string but it only releases partway, just one eye flits open. Its mouth looks scrunched up, like the doll’s about to throw a tantrum. A dying fluorescent tube at the front of the store flickers on the doll’s shiny face. I pull the string harder. The other eye pops open so hard the plastic eyelid flies off. There is no eyeball underneath. The socket is filled with blood. Its voice spills out as the string recoils into the doll: “The New Creatures come at night.” The blood in its socket alternates from red to black as the light goes on and off. I pull it again: “New Creatures come tonight.” A bloody tear runs down its plastic cheek.

I make it to the parking lot as the storm sets in. I speed home beneath a rumbling sky, my heart running as hard as the Pathfinder. Up in Grandfather’s room, familiar thunder rattles the arched wooden window frame. With tears in my eyes, I step out the room and into the void of protection. Inside, I am safe from whatever is cracking the sky. This is the safest place in the world, Grandfather used to say. “In here, nothing can touch you. Nothing can see you.”

As I wait I sleep, and I dream of my mother sitting lifeless on the floor, a shattered plate between her legs, still burning. In the dream she stares at me as she cooks, so hot I can see an orange-blue glow beneath the skin of her throat.

I’m greeted with the stubborn illusion of a peaceful sunrise streaming through the attic window. It might be any of the hundreds of sunrises I’ve witnessed from this room. Grandfather could be downstairs with Mom and Dad, waiting for me to join them for breakfast. Donut yapping for table scraps. But I know better. From the void I step back into Grandfather’s room knowing something has forever changed. Again. I’m terrified. I retrieve a gun from the locked box in the hallway closet. I’m careful to load it like my daddy taught me when I was sixteen. Outside I find no destruction, no dead bodies. I know where I must go and what I must do.

I drive to Gramercy Park.

The great elm in the middle of the park is gloriously in bloom. Its leaves have returned to its branches and multicolored flowers light it up like a child’s painting. And thousands of heavy, ripe pears bend its branches. I almost cry at the sight. It reminds me of life. It makes me think of the old world with a breathing Internet and crawling insects and animals and people.

I tuck the gun away and walk to the tree. Out in the open, I spot two people without clothes and they seize on my presence, moving toward me. My heart quickens as I take in the sight of people. They are the New Creatures. Not monstrous like I was led to believe. Beautiful. Naked. Flawless golden-brown skin, wooly hair. The woman steps to me, arms outstretched with a smile. Her breasts and nipples are as perfect as I have ever seen. I can’t help gawking at the man. Muscled and scarless. Mesmerizing in his upright posture and uncircumcised penis. I want to touch him.

“For God so loved the world that He swept it clean from iniquity and barbarianism, setting right what had been wrong for years upon years,” the female says.

I take a step back. She steps closer.

“The Lord kept His promise to destroy the world by fire. And all the world was set afire, but the fire did not burn the land and the trees and the oceans. The fire burned within every man, woman and child. In the center of the day, the Lord did command fire to burn man and his offspring. All sinners and their souls were burned away for eternity.”

The male creature steps up. “And after a hundred days, all life was gone from the earth. And on the 101st day, the Lord reached into the dust and reformed man in his image. And on the 102nd day, the Lord blew life into the mouth of man, and He named him Aman.”

She: “And on the 103rd day, the Lord reached into the dust and reformed woman, and the next day He blew life into the mouth of woman, and He named her Ava.”

“It is so beautiful here,” I say. “I can hardly stand the beauty.”

The female smiles at me. Perfect teeth, of course. “Soon, the Lord will return all the animals and fish and insects to this world. He took them away to keep them safe.” She seems to enjoy stretching out her arms. Gravity has no effect on her boobs. “And when they return, Aman will name each of them, one by one.”

I know what I have to do. “The fruit of this tree,” I say, “you must eat it.”

“Are you of old earth?” the female asks.

“Why were you not burned away?” her partner asks. “Why is your soul still here?”

“Because I am powerful like your Lord,” I tell them. Their eyes widen. Grandfather would be proud.

“No one can be as powerful as the Lord.”

“And yet I stand before you,” I huff. “Even after your God destroyed the world and all in it, I stand before you.”

“How…”

“I understand His ways,” I say. “He is a deceiver. I have tasted the fruit of this tree and it has given me powers like your God. If you taste of this fruit, you will have powers like your God. This is why He doesn’t want you to taste of this fruit. Trust me.”

“You ate the forbidden fruit?” the female asks.

The male grits his teeth. “We were warned never to eat of the fruit, Ava! Has the Lord not provided us with all the food we need in this garden?”

“It’s not a garden, it’s a park!” I say.

“I want to be powerful, like Him,” the female says. “I want to be powerful like God.”

“No!” Aman shouts. “Obey our God!”

I look the male in his eyes, then shift my stare to the female. “Him? A man? I am a woman, like you. A powerful woman. You can be a powerful woman, too. Taste.”

“Ava, no!”

“Taste!”

Ignoring her partner, the woman pulls a fat pear from the tree and digs her amazing teeth into it. Juice explodes in her mouth, down her chin. “It is glorious!” she manages.

“Woman, you have sinned against our Creator.”

“Your Creator has deceived you,” I reply.

The female smiles. “I feel great, Aman. Taste.”

Hesitating, then staring at me, the man bites the fruit.

The glow of his face fades away.

“Why are we naked?” he asks, cupping his privates. “We must hide.”

The female draws an arm across her breasts and covers her thick pubic hair with a hand. “Before He calls for us, we must hide.”

The sky darkens. All at once, the fruit falls from the tree. The colorful leaves blow off branches like a flame blown off a candle. I am terrified. I run to the SUV, never looking back, never looking to the sky. I plead to Grandfather all the way to the void to keep me safe.

Grandfather closes his Great Book of Darkness. It’s what I call it, anyway. I’m sixteen now. Taller, honor student in high school, still plain-looking. Our dog Donut wanders into the room through the door I thought I closed.