It Shall Be Called The End Chapter 1
My Domain
Chapter 1
Silence is deafening, always surrounding you in its never ending charade of hopelessness. Yet I find it helps remind me that I’m still alive. I was a fat guy, artsy, wrote poetry, the isolated type. Now I’m still fat, artsy, still write poetry and am involuntarily isolated. I never owned a gun in my life except for the pellet gun my parents bought for my birthday one year, and now I have several and am well versed in how to use them. Though I must say the only one that I could tell you the name of is my Glock 45, other than that it’s the big one or the big nasty or the nasty as like to call my shotgun. I think it may be a 12 gauge or something, at least that’s what the shells say. Anyway here I am stalking around the levee in downtown baton rouge in search of something, though I’m not sure what yet. I guess food would be a concept or even water or ammunition, but mostly I think I am searching for something different than being holed up in a lawyer’s office on the corner of 5th and laurel.
It smells better here by the levee, everywhere else the stench of rot and death overpower, I like to think sometimes that it smells worse here because of all the Cajun food the people consumed before they died.
“Man what I would give for some boiled crawfish”
The words escape my lips with less ease than I had anticipated, partly because I know I won’t be having any anytime soon, but also because any sound could alert the dead fucks patrolling the area. Cautiously I crouch down behind a stone stair case, waiting for the inevitable scampering of decaying feet. But to my great relief there is none. Sitting back against the wall I pull out a Gurkha legend, not my favorite cigar but it is my brand so I’m not complaining. It so happened that I recently ventured out farther than I had been since the rise of hell, in one of my fits of restlessness as I am now, and came upon my favorite cigar shop, Churchill’s off Jefferson highway, and to my expectation I found that it was completely untouched. I guess people were more worried about canned food and water than single malt scotch, cigars and fine wine. So I grabbed what I could carry and locked the place up for later trips, after clearing out Andy, the guy who works there but knows way too much about cigars to be a freshman in college.
It’s a cold morning and the cigar and little flask of bourbon that I had lifted off Andy weeks ago help keep the chill and nerves away.
Dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong
“Six am” I whisper as the church bells down the road sound the moment. I’ve come to the conclusion that the dead get used to sounds if they hear it constantly, kind of like a horse when a cowboy shoots while riding. But I wonder what would happen if the bells chimed when they weren’t supposed to? Would they go ape shit like they did when it all first happened? I’ll have to test it one day, but for now on to the task at hand.
I get up and start my search again, drifting between cars moving in shadows and crouching behind poles and benches, anything to keep out of site of the dead. Yet still every time I venture out I find myself daydreaming of the day it all went to hell. I went to the theater after work as per usual when I was in a play and would catch a nap in the green room till rehearsal. I remember waking up because I heard something and went to see what was happening, I mean it wasn’t unusual since the theater was located in a bad part of town. I stepped out into the lobby to see if I could catch a glimpse of it and was frozen in horror at what I saw, yet it only took a fraction of a second for me to realize what I was seeing. I’ve read enough zombie novels and seen enough movies not to, but there right outside the glass door was a person who worked in the building next door gnawing, not chewing, but gnawing on the hand of an elderly lady I had known to be a season ticket holder here at the theater. Blood was smeared all over the glass and I could see where her throat was missing and her eyes gouged out. Immediately I ran back to the green room to gather my thoughts and grab my phone. Without thinking I called my dad to see what was happening there but only heard the dogs yelping and loud crashes when it answered. Getting myself ready I grabbed my keys and bag and made my way to the front, stopping to pick up a bat from the props cage, and stood in front of the door with the man from next door hungrily staring at me, daring me to move like a predator does with its prey. I could feel the blood pulsing through my veins as I built myself up, I did not intend on being some dead fucks food today. With a sense of determination and long abated rage I slammed the door open knocking the man back and placed the bat between his eyes, sinking in his forehead enough that he was not getting back up, and sprinted for my car.
Immediately the scope of destruction made it clear that the tables had turned as smoke and screams filled the air, and from all sides I could see them running, like a pack of ravenous gazelles descending upon a lone lioness. Pressing the unlock button I reach for the door, wrenching it open and plowing inside. With the doors locked and engine started I hit the gas as they reach the car pounding on the glass trying to reach me, and with the crunch of what I soon saw to be a skull I thank the car Gods for SUVs’. Weaving in and out of the destruction and chaos I happen to see some fat kid racing across the a parking lot with at least three gazelles on his tail, but before I could make a move in his direction they had overrun him and were tearing out his intestines as he screamed. Fucking chubby chasers.
Clink
The noise roused me from my thoughts, and I nearly shit my pants. That’s the worst part about these fits, I tend to daydream. In the distance I see a lone RDF (really dead fuck) that’s what I call them, those who don’t die the first time you shoot them, those who met death twice so far and are due for a third and final meeting. It was a shaggy looking thing, man I’m guessing, probably the grungy stoner type who thought that life revolved around their music and “who needs food when we can play a tasty lick” kind of asshole. His foot kept hitting a can in the street which kept his attention and every time he moved toward the can he hit it, thus causing an unending cycle of clinking noises. I couldn’t have this because before I know it more would come to join the party. I’ve learned lots of new skills in the last couple of years and one of them is stealth, taking care in each step I take so as to not step on any glass or make any noise. Keeping out of sight I circle around behind him and jam my combat knife deep into his cerebral cord initiating his final meeting with death.
Some would say that I should feel bad for the poor bastard, but then again I’ve probably shot those same people in the head already. I have come to the point where I don’t care that they were once human, they aren’t anymore and they want to eat me. Enough said, plain and simple.
Rounding a corner I find a store and decide to see if there is anything of use, I open the door slowly in case there is a bell attached to let the clerk know someone has come in, the last thing I want is to make a noise. If there is one thing that has come to light in this new world it is that a sound travels for miles when nothing is left. Relieved at the lack of a bright jingling welcome I take a few cautious steps inside and find myself face to face with a stack of king sized snickers bars. Happy to have a change in the menu I grab a few and stick them in my pack before searching for other surprises such as water, lighters, jerky, and Tooth paste. The funny thing, as I have observed is that when the chaos began and people started looting no one seemed to think of dental hygiene. Which perplexes me, I mean seriously, how hard is it to grab a tube of toothpaste? Apparently quite difficult because everywhere I go there is tons of it left.
After grabbing all that I could grab, including the final issue of playboy (great articles when you are bored) I check the street outside to make sure that the coast is clear. Edging myself out the door I begin my trek toward the Louisiana state library as I have found myself craving a new book to read. I have made this trip a few times already so I know the way pretty good and feel confident in its safety, for I have already cleared it of the dead. I even stuck a couple of their heads on sticks out in front to warn the other dead that it is my domain, though I know it doesn’t matter to them. I’ve seen them trample each other to get to fresh meet before, but still it makes me feel better. Also I think it makes the other survivors uneasy, well if you can call them survivors. I’ve had a run in with a few from time to time and I have to say I think I’d rather deal with the dead fucks. These guys are just uncouth sick bastards who figure that since the world has gone to shit they can take whatever they like from whomever and do whatever they fell like doing at the time. I take pride in knowing that some of the heads in front of the library belongs to the brotherhood as they call it.
Walking up the steps of the library I smile and feel a warm sense of accomplishment as I walk by the last brother to cross paths with me and head into my domain. Over the span of two years I have managed to search through most of the books here and have read a bunch of them, but I am pretty positive that I haven’t even made a dent in the thousands here. I find comfort in a place where I am surrounded by so many words in world where words rarely exist. I take my time looking around and finally decide to reread my favorite book in the whole world, the old man and the sea. I think it is my favorite because I relate to the old man so much, what with being alone and all.
I fell asleep after reading for awhile, and rested like I haven’t rested in awhile, and woke to a terrible sound. A car horn was blowing and a woman was screaming over the roar of an engine and the woops and hollers of what sounded to be drunken crazed men. The brotherhood no doubt, but what are they doing with a woman? Rushing to the window with my rifle I look out to see a full sized truck with a snow plow attached to the front barreling through the streets dragging what seemed to be the old bed of a truck that was converted into a cage with a woman tired to the top locked inside. About 50yards behind them was a hoard of sprinting dead fucks trying everything to make their way to the noise and fresh meat in front of them. At this point I have become a bit more than agitated with the doings of the brotherhood disrupting my silence and life that I have taken to extreme measures in dealing with them. Opening the window I take sight with my rifle and take a deep breath, squeeze the trigger and the front left tire explodes while making a turn causing the truck to tumble down the road breaking free from the trailer (an action that I had not anticipated) causing it to speed off toward the library.
“Damn, I don’t think Sherlock Holmes could have done better” I say to myself taking sight again searching for the brothers driving the truck. I see them crawling out and starting to run down the street away from the horde heading their direction. I put a bullet through a knee dropping the one and send another bullet through the gut of the other making sure that dinner will be good for the dead of Baton Rouge tonight. I drop the rifle and start searching for where the girl ended up and notice her not far below where my window is, screaming.
“Hey! Stop screaming or I’ll shoot you to!” the threat is more to make sure she shuts up than anything and it does the trick.
“Who are you?” she whimpers so quietly I could barely hear her up here.
“The names Daniel, and didn’t I say shut up or I’d shoot you?!”
“Ok but hurry, they are coming back this way!”
“Stupid women” I think as I run to my pack thinking, always causing trouble, or at least that is how it has been since I first noticed they had different parts than me. Which is why I stayed isolated most of the time, but man I could really use some company these days, I haven’t seen anyone but dead fucks and the brotherhood since Jimmie and derrick left. And that has been a long time.
Finally I find what I’m searching for and run to the stairs leading to the roof. My natural instinct says to go left but I go right knowing that my instincts aren’t always the best. I was never a boy scout. When I get to the edge I light the fuse on a homemade pipe bomb and toss it on to the stoop of a building as far away as my unathletic arm would let me. After a few seconds I hear the explosion and feel the debris flying even all the way up here.
“Hell of a bomb Jimmie” I say remembering the day we made our way into the home depot searching supplies. That was the thing about Jimmie, I thought as I ran back down to the window, he and his brother were always good at destruction when it was needed. I just hope they are all ok and that they found Jeremy.
Getting back to the window I take a look out to assess the situation and see that it is all clear except for one RDF, so I grab my pack and make my way down and out to the girl. Rounding the corner I pull out my combat knife and jam it into the stiffs eye as I run by, making a mental note to put his head on a stick when everything is clear. Getting to the cage I begin to search for the door and lock but soon realize neither exists.
“How did they get this damn thing on here?!”
“They just tack welded it on with me in here!”
“Seriously?! Shit! Ok hold on, I’m gonna try something!” the words were already gone as I ran back a little ways in order to build speed and took off at a sprint and threw myself into the cage. To my surprise it didn’t even budge. The only thing that accomplished was a throbbing shoulder and headache.
“What the hell are you doing?!”
“Trying to get you out of there before those dead fucks get back here!”
“Well here’s an Idea, how about cutting me loose and letting down the tail gate so I can crawl out!”
She says the words and I can’t help but stop and think about what she was saying, “Man I really need to think clearer in these situations” I say to myself. Pulling out my combat knife I climb up on the bed and begin cutting her loose. They had tied her up with copper wire and it had cut into her wrist. Poor girl, there’s no telling what all else those dirty sons of bitches did to her.
After cutting her down I open the tail gate and help her out, then start our run back to the library as the smell of rot starts the escalate signifying the end of the first course. I can hear their footsteps as I pull her along running and running like every time before, I just hope this time is different, cause to be honest I could really, really use the company. We reach the doors and I wrench them open just enough for us to slip in, but before she can take one step in a hand grabs her by the hair and yanks her back. Without thinking I grab her around the waist and yank her into the building dragging the DF with her slamming the door into a locking position and in one motion pull out my knife once more and cut her hair free from the hand. I dropped down on top on the thing that was once human and started jamming the knife in and out of his eyes with a sudden fury and rage that I had not felt in years. I only stopped when I felt a hand on my shoulder that seemed to close to affection to be anything hostile. It was then and only then that I realized what I had done.
Sitting up I began to look through his ratted jeans for some form of Identification and found his wallet. Jonathan Riley was his name, poor bastard. I take the ID out and stick it to a wall covered in ID’S. It seems to be getting larger and larger as time goes on, but I just can’t help doing it. I think it’s what keeps me going, the thought that humanity once existed in so many instead of the few people who aren’t dead. So every time I kill one I take the ID, if they have one and put it up on the wall and take that person’s name for awhile. Kind of my way of honoring the dead and keeping some form of meaning in this shit hole called life. I do have to say though, the wall is getting crowded.
“What are you doing?” the question startles me out of my thought and I feel my face flush like I’ve just been caught doing something I shouldn’t, like when your mom walks in and catches you masturbating.
“Huh?”
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, just something I started doing after awhile, helps me remember the world we once had before everything happened. Gets me through the days you know.”
“Ah I see”
I could hear the curiosity in her voice but only resigned to give her what she needed to know about me for now.
“Sorry about the hair” I say in a sheepish tone
“Eh, it’s just hair. I’d rather lose it that my neck”
“Yeah”
She had what seemed to be beautiful hair, but from the looks of the way she had been treated by the brotherhood it had been greatly neglected and all I did was finish it off. I think it used to be auburn but I’m not sure, it doesn’t really matter anymore though.
“You know, I’m getting kind of nervous with you just staring at me like that. It’s making me feel self conscious”
“Oh, sorry, I was just thinking”
“And what were you thinking?”
“That I will call you ginger since it looks like you used to have red hair”
“Well I did, but why ginger?”
“It’s what we used to call red heads when I was growing up”
“Hmmm, ginger? I think I can live with that” I nod in response
“And do I just call you Daniel?”
“No, call me John for now”
“I thought your name was Daniel?”
“It was, it’s kind of a complicated thing to explain, too much for now anyway” I say this as I walk up to the window and survey the situation.
“Oh, well maybe later. So what are we gonna do now?”
I think she changed the subject for my benefit more than her curiosity.
“Well I figure we will give it a few hours and let them clear out then make our way to my apartment”
“Your apartment? You have an apartment still?”
“Yeah, well it’s an old lawyer’s office but it was set up like an apartment, running water, shower, toilette, ECT. I figure we could rest here and make our way back there and you can get cleaned up and relax while I go out and find you some cloths”
“A….real shower?” her eyes seemed to tear up as she said it, like it meant so much to her.
“Yeah a real shower, I’ve got a nice set up there. I think you will like it. Maybe we can play some video games when I get back with your cloths”
She seemed so surprised with how nonchalant I was about it all.
“Look, why don’t you get some rest and I’ll keep a look out. I’ll wake you up when we can leave, ok?”
I showed her where the more comfortable couches were and gave her a blanket to sleep with, then went and sat by the window getting back to my way of things.
