Timothy Long - Beyond the Barriers

Even as she reached for me, her mouth closed down over a hunk of her companion’s neck. I grimaced and took in the rest of her body. I don’t know how she died; if it was the bite or if she was killed and came back.

“You gonna kill that thing or ask it to dance?” one of the men yelled.

Kill it. How do you kill something that is already dead? I crouched down on the balls of my feet and touched her arm. I didn’t want anything to do with her, and I really didn’t want any physical contact, but curiosity got the better of me. She was cold to the touch, and there was no blood flow under her skin. No pulse. Breaking my grip, I took a step back, lifted the gun, and blew her brains all over the road.

The walk back to the barricade took longer than it should have.

After delivering the ammo, I decided to hoof it to my house. It was less than a mile, and I had the daylight to my advantage. I walked around the perimeter until I got my bearings and determined which way I had to go. Though I had driven these streets many times, they had changed now. The houses were still there, lined up in perfect rows, but they were also overgrown, as shrubs and trees grew any which way they wanted to without man to interfere with them. There were no cars in the street, with the exception of the ones that made up the perimeter. The rest had been driven away.

Most homes had their doors and garages wide open. I imagined the group here must have gone over every inch looking for supplies. There were things tossed aside in yards—empty boxes, cans, and bottles. Now-useless electronics lay everywhere. I could see the panic as everyone ran from the approaching horror, then the opposite as those who stayed started looting. I saw a high-end laptop tossed aside.

The air was much cleaner now. Maybe it was the lack of exhaust or the affect of all the flourishing plant life. It was going to be a warm day; that much was obvious from the already thickly mounting humidity.

Scott caught up with me and walked by my side. I glanced at him. He had an almost gleeful look on his face. I found it infectious and grinned back, which felt good.

“Where you goin’, man?”

“My house is less than a mile from here. I’m going over there for a minute. I need to pick up some things.”

“You know it’s probably looted, right?”

“I have a stash. I’m pretty sure no one has found it.”

“Well, I can’t let you go and do a dumb thing like that by yourself. So I’m goin’ with you.”

Not for the first time, I wondered if he was mentally unbalanced. Then I laughed out loud. We were all unbalanced.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, man. I’m just glad for the company.”

“Well, all right. Let’s go on a quest and shit. I get to be Frodo.”

“You are definitely a Sam. I think I should be Frodo.”

“But I have more common sense.” He grinned. “Like I would never go out into this crazy world alone. You gotta have someone at your back at all times.”

“Good point.” We headed for the line of trucks.

Most of the morning was noisy. Birds flitted here and there and chirped at everything. There were massive flights of crows and other birds that had to be scavengers of some sort. I bet the seagull population near the water had exploded in growth.

There were blue jays with their angry chant, screaming at each other and probably at us as we interrupted their conversations. I looked up as a hawk called out from where he circled far above. The world had gone to the birds, literally.

Scott was a good companion. He kept his focus everywhere as we walked through the wreckage of the neighborhood. There was a pair of scorched houses that were just burned-out husks. One was a large two-story with a gated entryway. It reminded me of the house from last night.

I wondered how many times the same story had repeated itself over the course of the last few months. How many houses were torn apart, families dragged out and killed. How many survivors were there? I hoped Portland wasn’t a disappointment. I didn’t think I could live like this forever, unless I found a safe community like this one to live in. Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Then again, how long would it be before the groups started fighting each other for control? How long until the food ran out? It wasn’t like we could grow anything. A field would be a terrible place to work—a wide-open target—like farming in the middle of a giant bulls-eye.

A flash of movement in the street ahead caught my attention, and I had the gun to my shoulder in a heartbeat. After I sighted along the barrel, I wasn’t sure what I had seen.

Scott reacted the same way. He had a shotgun—big Remington with a pump. He worked it like a pro, head moving with the gun as he walked forward.

It was an old car behind which someone was crouching. I moved to one side of the street, and Scott moved to the other. Houses were closer together here, and smaller—town homes that had very little room and even less space between lots. With all the shadows they cast, it would be hard to see anything coming out of them until it was too late.

Scott scooted forward. He had the close-range weapon, so that afforded me the opportunity to cover him with the M-16. A shape moved at speed away from the car, running like it was on fire. It looked like a kid, but it was in the gap between two houses before I could even wonder if the apparition had been real.

“Damn creepers,” Scott muttered when he joined me.

“Hey man. I was one of those until a few days ago.”

“Really? You do look kind of creepy.”

“Maybe they don’t know they can just walk right up to you and say ‘Hi, I want in.’ You live on the run long enough, and it becomes hard to trust anyone.”

We walked along in silence. I looked over at Scott to find his eyebrows drawn down, as if in deep thought.

“Yeah, you’re right, but we can’t exactly put out a welcome sign. We only have so many supplies.”

“I know, but how long can that continue? What are you going to do when you run out, and you’re ranging out from the hub for hours at a time just to find some canned food? I’m surprised you all have lasted this long. I’m serious. If you want a fighting chance, you need to take some trucks over to Walmart and clean that place out before someone else does. Or move in. The place is like a fortress with a electrified fence.”

“We might talk about that later. Right now we got this quest to complete. What is so important that you have to get to your house for?”

Our voices echoed up and down the street, and I had to wonder if many creepers were in the surrounding houses, watching us—if they had guns trained on us. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. Four months away from humanity, and I was already scared to go looking for it.

“Just some stuff I should have brought with me—that’s all. Mainly a picture of my ex-wife.”

“Hope that shit is better than a memory. We stick around out here too long and we are gonna be a memory.”

We were on Callow Street and had to cut over a block when we ran across an old accident. It looked like a semi had run into a UPS truck and both vehicles had been shredded. Chunks of rusted metal were everywhere. I didn’t want to climb over the wreck, so I led him instead to an old pasture that ran catty-corner to the street. We took to it and passed more than one cow corpse. Someone had shot the things and left them to rot in the sun. They did not smell pretty at all. Not that the pasture would ever have won an award for its stench of old cow shit prior the apocalypse.

We traipsed over land that was being reclaimed by tall grass. There was some skittering, as small animals dashed here and there in the undergrowth. Probably mice or rats, or the occasional snake. Those little critters must have been having a field day now that they were free to repopulate without rodent killer and giant lawnmowers tearing up their world.