Grace Lost Read online

  Chapter 3

   

  No one spoke for a good mile or two, the tension in the car being intense.

  Boggs finally broke the silence.  “Gus, we haven’t been able to get any news.  What the hell is going on out there?” 

  Gus cleared his throat before answering.  “The news came on late last night.  Like fucking H.G. Wells.”  He spit into a paper cup.  “The dead rising and eating the living.”  He shook his head.  “No one knows exactly, just that reports came in from Europe, Australia, here, and Central America first.  No obvious pattern.  Just like in the fucking movies. The news stopped broadcasting early this morning.”  Several more minutes of silence passed before he continued.  “You probably noticed you have to get them in the head or they just keep coming after you.”

  “Ya,” Boggs answered simply.

  “Just like in the goddamn movies,” Gus said quietly.

  “We’ve seen them eating animals,” I said.  “Cats, cows.”

  “They seem to eat anything they can kill,” said Gus.  “Back in town a group of them was eating on a dog carcass.  I even saw one of ‘em chewing on a rat.  Not to mention all the people…” his voice trailed off.  

  After a long moment of silence he spoke again.  “Just before everything went off-air there were reports about containment.  The government authorizing lethal force.  None of it made much sense, but that’s when I decided to get the hell out of Dodge.  The hitch hiker I picked up said he heard rumors of a terrorist attack.  His cousin at Fort Lewis had called and said there had been reports of an unknown agent being dropped from the air, but his cell went dead.  He never heard back.”

  The first town we came upon was small and boasted old homes from mining days.  Many of them were vacant and boarded up.  We saw a scraggly mutt running down a side street, headed away from us.  Aside from the dog, the town was relatively still.  We coasted through, always watching for danger.  Several nearly identical scenes passed us as miles were added to the SUV.  The types of houses changed, as did the landscape, but they seemed to all tell the same story of abandonment.

  It was in one of the larger towns that we noticed the first activity.  It was vague at first, a shadow out of place here, a streak of movement behind a glass store front there.

  “I think we might have company,” said Gus calmly.  I thought he must have strong character to be able to keep his cool.

  “Think we should change our route?” asked Boggs, just as matter-of-factly.

  “Nah.  I think we should just keep straight, get through the town.  Nothing’s coming after us in the open,” answered Gus.

  “Not yet,” I mumbled from the back seat.  My gut was screaming danger and I wanted to be far away from this place.  “I don’t like it here.”

  “Me either,” said Gus.

  The road veered to the right and as we passed a drug store, the door opened.  A woman ran out and into the street, waving her arms to get our attention.  Her long black hair was a mess, and her face was streaked with dirt.  Our windows were rolled down for fresh air, and we could hear her screaming for help.

  “Roll up your windows!” barked Boggs.

  “We have to help her!” I cried out in response.

  From around a corner several of the creatures appeared in pursuit of the woman.  They weren’t as slow as the ones we had encounter thus far, and were gaining on her.  Most of them wore bloodied clothing.  I watched as the woman looked back, her face full of fear.  She ran toward our car as Boggs slowed. 

  “We can’t risk it,” shouted Gus.  “They’re too close!”

  As he finished his thought, the first of the creatures made contact with the woman.  It grabbed her arm and bit down as she ran, causing her to scream shrilly in pain.

  I started crying.  “We have to help her…”

  “No darlin,’ it’s too late,” said Gus softly.  “She’s been bit.  Boggs, we need to get the hell out of here, step on it man!”  His calm demeanor was cracking. 

  More of the creatures were emerging from the shadows, frenzied over fresh meat.  Their moans were deafening.  The woman twisted away from the creature that had begun to feast on her, and continued to run toward our vehicle.  Boggs increased our speed, but she managed to reach us and slammed against my door.  I saw her wide, pleading eyes as she came face to face with me, only the window separating us.  Blood from the bite on her arm stained the glass.  Her face was panicked when she realized we weren’t going to be the saviors she had hoped for.  I looked back and watched her figure become smaller as we drove away.  Tears streamed down my cheeks.  I clenched my eyes shut as the creatures reached her in the distance.  I couldn’t bear to watch her being slaughtered.  We drove in silence, aside from my occasional sobs.

  After a couple of hours of blessedly uneventful driving, Gus instructed Boggs to turn right onto a seemingly random road that was overgrown with rhododendrons, ferns, and weeds.

  “My uncle Chuck has a place set up out here.  He likes to be off the grid, hidden.  He’s a crazy old fucker but an honest guy.  Trustworthy, if he trusts you.”   Gus came across as a crude man.

  Boggs turned off the main highway and the Explorer bounced with the ruts in the old weathered road.  Puddles had accumulated from the storm that had rolled in, and our tire spray hit the bushes that lined the narrow road.  Thunder sounded in the distance and a murder of crows flew noisily overhead.  I’ve always hated crows.

  After several minutes and many winding turns on the little road, a small windowless stone structure came into view with an old single wide mobile home off to the right.

  “We’re here,” said Gus.  “I should go announce our arrival.”

  Boggs looked back at me, then to Gus.  “I should come with you, just in case…”

  “In case what?” I asked with my voice full of alarm.

  The cowboy answered for him.  “In case my uncle isn’t human anymore, darlin’.”   He opened his door and spit onto the ground before standing up.  He adjusted his belt and put his hat back on.  “Stay behind me, Adam.”

  Boggs interrupted him. “Boggs.  People just call me Boggs.”

  The cowboy tipped his hat in answer.  “Boggs then. Stay behind me a few feet?”

  “Ya sure,” he answered.   “Zoe, hand me the gun?”

  I handed him the pistol.  He took it and got out of the SUV, shutting his door quietly.  I opened my door to get out and Gus used a hand to stop my door.  “Zoe, you should stay here.”

  “No,” I whined, not wanting to be separated from either of them.

  “No arguing, Zo.  You’re staying here,” said Boggs.   “You should get up front.  Keep the engine running.  Be ready to drive.”  He looked at Gus for confirmation.

  “He’s right, Zoe.  Anything bothers you out here just honk and if we don’t come running, drive off.  Find somewhere to hide.”

  I was upset, but knew arguing would be pointless.  “Hurry back?” I asked, directed at Boggs, with a concerned and slightly pleading look on my face. 

  “You bet, kid.”  He winked at me.

  Gus and Boggs walked toward the shabby looking trailer.  Boggs held the Kahr in his right hand, at his side.  Gus kept his shotgun strapped over his left shoulder.  I climbed between the front seats to take my position behind the wheel and watched as they approached the front door of the trailer.  Boggs stopped several feet shy of the door while Gus walked to it and rapped with his knuckles.  Several minutes passed before Gus looked back to Boggs and signaled him to move behind him.  The rain was pouring heavily now and the wind was blowing hard.  I saw Gus put his ear to the door and listen for several seconds.  When he seemed satisfied, he turned to Boggs and gave him an exaggerated shrug.  They spoke briefly, their words too far away for me to hear.  The windshield was becoming a blur of water and plant debris from the storm, so I turned the wipers on low in an attempt to keep my companions in sight.

  Bogg
s stepped back a few more feet, centered himself in front of the door, and raised his weapon. Gus turned the knob slowly, cracked the door, and stood back as it swung inward.  He scrambled back to join Boggs and readied his shotgun.  It took all of my willpower to stay in my seat when all I wanted to do was get out and yell for them to get back in the car.  I watched them both retch and cover their mouths as they stepped farther away from the open doorway.  Moments later the smell hit me though the open car window.  I was tired of being offended by the smell of rot and decay.  I got out of the Explorer, the engine still idling, and stood behind the open door.

  The creature that emerged from the doorway was different than what we’d seen so far. The old man was skeletal, his skin mummified.  Long yellowed hair fell from his scalp, which was falling away from his skull.  His lips were drawn back making his browned teeth occupy more of his face than they should.  His eyes had long ago shriveled, leaving dark holes in their place. He stumbled forward, following the living by some unknown sense of desperation that must have substituted for sight.

  Gus didn’t hesitate.  He raised his shotgun and felled his uncle with a single shot.  The decayed old man was thrown backward, his head now unrecognizable from the spray of pellets. He lay on the rain-soaked ground, his skeletal right arm halfway submerged in a deep mud puddle.  Gus lowered his shotgun and looked to the car, then to Boggs.  “That was Chuck.  Looks like he’s been gone a long time.”

  Boggs was still aiming his .45 at the trailer.  “Sounds like he wasn’t alone.”

   “Boggs?” I called. “What is it?”

  Without taking his eyes off the trailer, he called back to me.  “I hear one of them in there, Zo.  Stay back!  And for Christ’s sake get back in the car!”

  Gus walked back over to Boggs and readied his shotgun.  He held a hand up, signaling me to stay put.  I shivered as the cold rain soaked through my summer outfit.  I wiped at my face with the back of my hand, wishing that I also had a gun.  The three of us stood watching the open door, waiting for horror to emerge.  I saw Gus nod to Boggs, and watched as my best friend stepped into the dark trailer, his Kahr outstretched in anticipation of an attack.  Gus entered behind him, his shotgun at the ready.

   I waited for what seemed an eternity, not knowing if I’d ever see Boggs or our new companion again.  The thought of being alone was almost as unbearable as falling victim to one of these unthinkably evil creatures.  The noise of the storm became distant and was replaced by that of my own breathing and heartbeat.  Time seemed suspended until the sound of a shot rang in the distance.  I knew by the sound it was the handgun.  “Boggs!” I screamed.  “Boggs!”  I was crying now, running toward the door of the trailer. I entered, the darkness blinding me momentarily. Suddenly muscular arms were around me and I fought back hard, hitting and kicking. “Boggs!” I yelled, now pleading for help.

  “I’ve got her!” called out a voice that I recognized only faintly.  The arms tightened around me and my body fought harder, my foot landing on a shin followed by cursing.

  “Boggs!”  My voice was now shaking from fear.

  “Shhhh, darlin,’ calm down!  It’s Gus.  Boggs is fine.”  Gus tightened his grip on me.

  I heard footfalls coming from the other end of the trailer and finally heard Boggs’ voice join us.  “Shhhh, Zo.  It’s ok.  Shhhh.”  His arms took over and I was in his embrace, his hands smoothing my hair.  I started sobbing quietly as my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.

  “What was the shot? Are you ok?” I asked, pleading for answers.

  “Ya, Zo, ya.  Gus’ uncle had a woman here.  She was handcuffed to the bed…she had turned.  She’s gone now.  It’s ok.  She can’t hurt us now.”

  Gus broke our reunion.  “I think we should get out of this place.  They’ve both been dead awhile.  Nothing in here is going to be salvageable.”

  He was right.  The stench of the dead had leached into every nook and cranny.

  “The cement building might be a good bet.  We can stay dry there, and get some sleep,” suggested the cowboy.  “Start fresh tomorrow,” he added.

  Boggs loosened his grip on me and gently guided me to the door of the trailer, back out into the rain.  “Zoe, go with Gus.  I’m just going to back the Explorer up to the building.  I want an easy out if we need to leave in a hurry.  Gus, sound ok?”

  We both gave our approval and Gus put an arm around me, guiding me to the small building that first greeted us on our drive in.  It was made from cinder blocks and concrete and partly covered in moss.  There were a couple of brick-sized openings beside the unusually short and narrow door.  The metal roof was patched with a blue tarp, held down with sand bags. 

  “Do you think it’s safe?” I asked quietly.

  “I’m willing to bet so, Zoe.”  Gus walked to the side of the small building, lifted a rock, and produced a key.  “Uncle Chuck used it for growing pot, so kept it locked.  It’s pretty basic. No windows.  Just a mattress and essential supplies inside, at least the last time I was here.  I’m going to unlock it, and check it out, so I want you to wait off to the side, ok?”

  “Ok,” I answered as I stepped aside and out of the way.  I hugged myself, the wind now turning cold from the nearby mountain tops.  I found the older man growing on me slightly, despite his foul mouth and bad habits.

  The sound of the Explorer backing up signaled Boggs’ return from his short drive.  The engine turned off and he got out and came to stand beside me, his pistol again in hand and readied.

  Gus put the key into the lock and turned it.  The door opened inward.  Aside from a musty odor, nothing emerged to greet us.  Gus entered and gave the all-clear.  Boggs took my hand in his and entered just ahead of me. 

  “Go ahead and lock the door, Zoe,” said Gus.  “It’ll be dark in here till I light a candle.”

  I shut the small door and turned the deadbolt.  The room was filled with darkness, but a small amount of light leaked in from the small openings beside the door.  A glow followed a short time later when Gus lit a candle.  I knew I imagined it, but the little building already felt warmer from the candle light.

   In the far corner was a small wood stove, long since rusted from age.  It was the type that had two old fashioned round plates on top for heating pots and pans.  It had an old copper kettle for water sitting on top.  A pipe went almost to the ceiling before exiting out the back wall.  There was an old sheep skin lying in front of the fireplace with two bean bags nearby.  It was clearly meant to be a place to relax.  Not far from the fireplace was an old shelf that held a couple of shoeboxes. The bottom shelf had a bottle of tequila, three-quarters full, a single shot glass, a cheap lighter, and a clay pipe.  A small wooden table was situated under the shelf and held a variety of dusty candles.  Against the front wall was an old dingy full size mattress.  The far side of the room was dedicated to horticulture.  Raised boxes full of soil were carefully laid out, with grow lights hanging from the ceiling above.  Wires were wound around the rafters and dangled off to the side, gathered near the floor and taped together as they led to a single power source.  The plants that had once flourished had long ago dried up and fallen to join the soil from which they had grown.  Jugs of water sat on the far ends of each of the four planters.  I watched as Gus plugged the grow lights in.  They didn’t turn on.

  Gus lit a couple more of the candles with the lighter from the shelf, took his cowboy hat off, and laid it on the ground next to the wood stove to dry.  “Zoe, do you think you can try to start a fire in the wood stove, darlin’?  It’s going to get cold at this elevation tonight and we should try to get our clothes dried out.”

  “Ya, sure. I can try.”

  “Good girl.  There’s some newspapers and kindling under the little table, and I’ll try to find some bigger pieces of dry wood from the pile outside.  Boggs, you want to get a few things from the car and bring them in?”

  “Ya. We have a couple of sleeping bags and
some food.  Do you think the water in the jugs is ok?”  Boggs motioned toward the half of the room meant for gardening.

  Gus thought a moment, and then spoke.  ”I think so, but we better boil it first just to be safe. We can use the kettle on the stove.”

  Boggs left the little building we’d be calling home for the night and walked to the car. Gus left a moment later.  I was left in the damp room by myself, and started working on lighting a fire. I crumpled some old pages of newspaper from under the table.  The kindling was brittle, lighting without much effort.  The little fire was about to die down to useless embers when Gus finally returned, his arms full of pieces of firewood that looked relatively dry.  The little stove would only hold two or three wedges of wood at a time.  Boggs entered soon after, balancing a cardboard box in one arm and a couple of the bags from the ARCO dangled from his other hand.

  “I think all we have left are the sleeping bags and pillows.  The rest can stay in the car.”

  “I’ll grab them,” said Gus.  He left for the car and Boggs helped load the woodstove.

  “He seems ok, Zoe.  Gus I mean.”  Boggs looked at me.  “The sun’s going to set in about an hour. I think we should try to rest here tonight and figure out a plan for tomorrow.”

  “Ya, sounds ok,” I mumbled.  I was feeling tired from everything we had been through in one day.

  “I’m going to need to help Gus drag his uncle’s body away, or the stink’s going to get in here. We’ll do that while you get settled in.  Take your wet clothes off and lay them out by the fire. You can stay in one of the sleeping bags and try to sleep till they’re dry.  I want you to keep the door locked though, ok?   We’ll use the key to get back in.”

  Gus came back in with the sleeping bags and pillows, and a roll of toilet paper.  Boggs relayed the plan to him, and the two headed out.  Since Gus took the toilet paper with him, I figured nature called.

  “Lock the door, Zoe,” reminded Boggs.

  I did as instructed then watched through one of the small rectangular openings next to the door as the two men walked toward the fallen corpse.  As they each took a leg and began to drag, his upper body fell away, lightening their load.  His insides were dry, creating a fine powder.  I saw Boggs cough.  Gus walked into the trailer, holding his shirt over his nose, and emerged with a bed sheet that was covered in dark brown stains that I presumed was old blood.  He laid it out flat on the muddy ground and the two men started piling on pieces of Chuck.  When they were done they hauled the bundle off into the woods.  I lost sight of them and turned toward the fireplace.  I took my shoes and socks off, and stripped out of my wet t-shirt and shorts, down to my matching powder blue bra and panties.  I laid my clothes out near the fire, next to Gus’ hat.  I added one more wedge of wood to the fire and rolled out one of the sleeping bags, laying it on the old mattress.  I set out the ARCO feast of Doritos and bean dip and Cherry Cokes for when Boggs and Gus returned.  Exhaustion overcame me while I waited.  I slid into the flannel-lined sleeping bag and lay my head on the pillow from Boggs’ bedroom.  It smelled like him, which I found comforting. I fell asleep and dreamt of things that don’t belong in even the worst of nightmares.

   

  I woke disoriented and it took me a moment to realize where I was.  My body ached, especially my hip.  I sat up and looked at the two men who were set aglow by the soft orange light from the woodstove.  Boggs tossed my now-dry t-shirt to me, causing me to blush realizing I was still in just my bra.  Gus had politely averted his eyes this time.

   “Thanks,” I mumbled.  “What time is it?”

   Gus looked at his watch.  “Two o’clock in the morning.  Just a bit after.  Sleep well?”

  I didn’t answer, still trying to orient myself.  The air in the little building felt warmer and not as damp as earlier.  I held the t-shirt in a clump to my chest, and climbed under the covers while I slipped it over my head and arms.

  I crept out from under the thick sleeping bag, the large shirt coming nearly to my knees.  The guys were playing a game with a deck of cards they had found.

  “Mind if I sit and watch?” I asked.  I had a strong desire to be next to the warm fire and the two men.

  “C’mon over, Zo.  We saved you some chips,” Boggs said.   He sounded tired.

  I sat cross-legged on the sheep skin between the two of them, facing the fire.  Gus handed me an unopened Cherry Coke, and I took it thankfully.  My stomach growled fiercely and my mouth was dry.  My teeth had sweaters growing on them.  I twisted the cap and drank eagerly from the plastic bottle.

  “Thanks, Gus.”  I set the bottle down in front of me and reached for the half-empty bag of Doritos.  I ate several and took another long pull from the Coke before speaking again.  “Sorry about your uncle.”

  “Thanks, Zoe. Me too,” answered Gus solemnly.  “Looks like he’d been dead for awhile.  Last I talked to him was maybe…six months ago?”

  Boggs leaned back against the bean bag he had claimed.  I tried not to look at his bare chest as light from the woodstove flickered across his skin.  He reached down and brought the bottle of tequila that had been on the shelf to his lips.  It was clearly not as full as it had been when we first arrived.

  “Boggs…c’mon. You don’t need that crap,” I snipped.  Boggs knew I wasn’t fond of hard alcohol or drugs, both being the reasons for the deaths of my sister and our parents.  I also knew he held his own recent sorrow linked to indulging.

  He sighed.  “Tonight, Zoe, I think I do.”

  Gus looked at me softly.  “Zoe, Boggs told me about your folks.  I’m really sorry about what happened to them. Tonight, though, I think we all just need a break after the hell we’ve seen today.  We’ll be responsible about it.  Ok, darlin’?”

  I wiped a tear away from my eye and nodded.  I actually understood.  When I was a junior in high school, my older sister overdosed on cocaine.  My parents had rushed to get to the hospital. A drunk driver had crashed into their car on the way.  My mom and dad had died instantly.  My sister, Ruthie, had died while they were on their way.  I was left alone to grieve the loss of all three of them. My best friend was away at college, and had only called once.  I didn’t want to rehash those memories right now. Between those memories and the horrific events of the day, I could use a drink myself. 

  “Ya. Ok.” I said and reached my hand out for the bottle.  Boggs handed it to me and watched me drink.  The light amber liquid burned my throat, but I drank heavily wanting to numb the pain. 

  Gus’ hand gently took the bottle from me.  “Ok, darlin’ that’s enough.  Gotta keep our wits about us.”

  “Gus, you’re not from around here are you?” I asked.

  “Why do you ask?” he replied.

  “You talk funny,” I said without much enthusiasm.

  Gus stretched, and then answered.  “I moved out here a couple years ago.  I’m from South Carolina.  Long story, different life.”

  It was pretty clear that Gus didn’t want to talk about his past in any detail.  I didn’t push for any more information.

  I heard Boggs strike a match and watched as he held it to the clay pipe that Uncle Chuck had kindly left behind.  A puff of smoke went up in the air and just as quickly disappeared as he took a drag, filling his lungs.  He closed his eyes and laid his head back against the bean bag, holding his breath as long as he could.  He finally let the sickly sweet smoke escape.  The room filled with the scent of skunk that pot can mimic, which mingled with the smell of decay that still clung to our skin and noses.  Boggs passed the pipe to Gus, who followed the ritual then handed it to me.  Boggs lay back again and was watching me in a way I had never seen him do before.  Gus watched me and when he noticed me just staring at the pipe, clueless, he reached into one of the shoeboxes and produced a pinch of dried weed.

  “Hold it to your mouth and I’ll light it.  Just breathe it in and hold it until you can’t anymore.”  I did as instructed. T
he smoke began to fill my lungs, and they protested loudly in a fit of hacking.  Boggs sat up.

  “Jesus, you guys.  Gus, she’s never done it before.”

  Gus chuckled like a school girl.  “Ya, I could tell.”

  Between coughing fits I asked, “Can I try again?”

  “No, you cannot,” asserted Boggs.  He took the pipe from my hand and relit it for himself.  After his toke, he relaxed into the bean bag again.

  Gus took the pipe from the other man.  “Here, Zoe.  Just breathe in when I blow it at you,” he instructed.   He lit it, sucked the smoke into his mouth and blew it at my face. I inhaled it more easily this way, and held it in my lungs as my brain numbed and the world around me spun refreshingly slow.  He set the pipe aside to rest on the shelf while the three of us laid back to enjoy the warmth of the fire.  I nestled in next to Boggs, my arm against his bare chest, enjoying the warmth from his body as much as I enjoyed the heat from the fire.  My head was starting to spin from the alcohol and for the first time in a long time I felt semi-content.

  “You’re hot, Zoe,” mumbled Boggs.

  “Uh, thanks?” I said sleepily.

  “No, I mean you feel like you’re feverish,” he clarified.

  Gus crawled over to us and I felt his cool hand touch my forehead.  I slept after that.