Dead Country (Book #1)

Chapter 18: The Big One

Somber really doesn't do justice in describing how things were after the gas station attendant and anchorman died. One held on for dear life until his body naturally gave up from starvation, while the other... while the other seemed to take the easy way out.

I didn't know either man rather well, but when someone is a part of your life on a daily, or weekly basis, they start to mean a lot. Being part of your routine, they feel like good friends, or family even. When you consider how we are all brothers and sisters on this planet, that's when you realize that two of our brothers died. We lost family members, even though they weren't blood related.

The news anchor had lost his wife and kids to the virus. The gas station attendant lost his family too, but not in the same way. My dad and I lost a wife and mother, and many more people were surely lost to circumstances related to the virus outbreak. Directly, or indirectly, people were being forced to make hard decisions, decisions that would hopefully be the right one for them and those they loved. Maybe my dad and I made the wrong decision to stay... maybe we should have found my mom and left this dead country behind.

I didn't leave the house for the next two days. Video games occupied most of my time as I laid on my bed and played by myself. I didn't feel like being around anyone, even my dad. He probably felt the distance I had put between us since he spent most of his time in the basement doing his own thing. Sometimes he would knock on my open door and tell me he was going into the garage, or going to check the fence outside. I would acknowledge him with a nod then continue with my game.

Messages I had received on Facebook were eventually answered with one big post to my wall:

"To all my friends,

Many of you have sent me messages asking me about my status in this mini zombie apocalypse. Instead of replying to you all individually, I am writing one post to tell you all that I am still alive. My dad and I are still at home. It might have been a crazy idea when zombies first showed up, but we're managing surprisingly well considering the city is now deserted. If any of you are still out there, feel free to like this post, or leave a comment, but most of my time is spent offline now. I can't afford to let my guard down anymore. My dad is counting on me and I'm counting on him. None of this has been easy for us. I've killed zombies and seen people die. I hope there is a light at the end of the tunnel for us all. Please keep safe.

Kevin"

A few days passed in total before I finally considered doing anything outside again. I felt like I was cursing my dad and I by leaving the house. The four zombies that had made their way into the house did so right after my first scouting trip. Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe not. Somewhere deep down I even blamed myself for the gas station attendant's death. I knew I wasn't the root cause of it, but I kept playing scenarios over in my mind where I went back sooner and convinced him to leave with his family, saving him from taking his own life. I should have told him I would man the gas station for him, even if I wouldn't. The lie would have saved his life... or so I keep telling myself in an effort of consolation.

Taking my first breath of fresh air in days, I stood outside the front door of the house. The sun was shining overhead and the sky was clear. We were getting closer and closer to colder weather, so my dad decided it be best to measure out a plot for the garden so we had a head start after the winter.

I walked around the garage and joined him out back wearing work gloves and my boots. He had used scrap pieces of wood from the fence posts to mark the four corners, then connected them all with string to form the perimeter.

"So what's the plan?" I asked, rubbing my itchy forehead with my forearm.

"Well I definitely can't use a rototiller. Any zombie hiding out there will hear it and come shuffling. So we"—holding out a dirt rake—"use these instead. Do it the old fashioned way."

"All right," I sighed, realizing the task was going to take all day to complete.

My dad handed me the rake, then pulled the shovel out of the ground next to him. He walked over to the closest corner of the garden plot and began to dig.

Once he dug enough of the edge up, I started hacking at the chunks of grass and dirt. As he saw me struggling with the task, he stopped.

"Use the hoe instead." He leaned on the shovel handle and pointed to the other gardening tool laying on the lawn. "Once we get the grass removed you can switch back."

Exchanging the tools, I continued with the task. I found it much easier to remove the top layering of grass, as well as break apart larger chunks of earth.

Several hours passed before we got half way through the plot. My dad and I were both sweating, so I figured we could use a break.

"I'm going inside," I told him. "Need to piss and get some water. You should take a break too."

He huffed as he leaned on the dirt rake, watching me set down the hoe. Before I even got ten steps away from the garden plot, a loud noise began to fill the air. I stopped and looked back at my dad, bewildered. He stopped a couple feet away from me, then we both peered up into the sky in search of the source.

Eventually a helicopter whizzed by above us. It was high enough that it looked small, but not high enough to minimize the noise we could hear it making. It sailed through the blue sky and white clouds, heading in a direction that might take it toward the border.

"The hell?"

"They're not gonna see us," my dad stated confidently. I could hear the disappointment in his voice though, which I shared.

"Where the heck is he going, the States?" Glancing at my dad with a creased brow before watching the helicopter disappear into the blue.

"I don't know where he's goin', but it doesn't matter." My dad now sounded defeated, as if the helicopter had been our ticket out.

Pulling off my right glove, I rubbed my hand over my face. If there was someone flying around the area, maybe that meant they were searching for something – survivors.

I caught up to my dad as he walked alongside the garage wall. As I slowed to his walking pace, I noticed something amassing in the distance past the harvested farmer's field. Could it...

"Dad," I whispered, freezing in place. "Dad," I repeated a little louder.

"What is it?" He turned to me, then looked in the direction of my staring eyes. "No... don't tell me..."

"I think that's the group of zombies we were missing to make this a true apocalypse." Standing there in a state of complete shock, fear growing inside me, I added, "We're fucked."