Fenced In

He came up slowly from sleep, for a moment reasonably comfortable and warm. As consciousness returned, the aches began to set in. Resigning himself to wakefulness, he opened his eyes and saw the familiar tin roof overhead. His feet left the covers and met the rough planks of the floor as he rose slowly from his bed with a groan and began to shuffle towards the washbasin.

Joseph rubbed his eyes in a futile attempt to clear the fatigue, then bent over and splashed water on his face sparing a moment to examine himself in the cracked and discolored mirror. Outside the wind howled as he contemplated the lines worn deep into his flesh, hair greying far too early. He sighed and reached to the bent nail hammered into the wall and removed the heart shaped locket that hung there. Careful not to catch the chain and break the clasp, he slipped the golden necklace over his head and grabbed his gun.

Cinching his belt and holster down, he stepped to the lopsided door and went to meet the day. The cold dry air greeted him with a puff of grit that immediately got into his mouth and ground to a halt between his teeth. Hating the bitter taste, he stepped off of the porch and headed towards the pump to wash his mouth out. The yard looked the same as it had these past twelve years, piled high with junk and coated with the ever present ash, a haphazard fence encircling the jumble.

The well was, thankfully, still working but it took the better part of ten minutes to draw the cold mineralized water from deep underground. He rinsed his mouth out and began to drink, but immediately choked on the water and dropped the ladle as he saw a silhouette outside the fence. He dropped his hand to the worn sandalwood butt of his revolver and ducked behind a rusted out engine block.

Past the fence, barely visible in the swirling gloom, he saw the shadow of something moving. The figure was close to human, but he knew it was a deception. As he watched, it's head turned, sweeping its glossy black eyes over his cover before it twitched and stumbled off deeper into the grayness. He recalled the first time he'd seen one of the wraiths up close.

Its skin pale and dry, seeming to issue a cloud of smoke behind it, the creature had slammed through the door of the diner shattering the glass. Its marble-like, black eyes had transfixed him as people began to scream. His gun had come out of its holster seemingly of it's own volition and roared twice. There was a pause as he incorrectly assumed that the impact of two .44 slugs was enough to end this horror, then the creature barreled over the counter and tore into the waitress. Seeing the spray of blood, he snapped back and grabbed for his wife's hand, dragging her towards the back entrance as the baby screamed in Hannah's arms. Emerging into reddish light of sunset, they saw a wall of gray descending on the town as hundreds of pale figures rushed towards them.

Returning to reality, he was reasonably confident that the wraith had moved on so he stood up and quietly moved back towards the well to finish his drink. The wraiths had appeared nearly twelve years before, seemingly from nowhere, bringing a haze of death that blotted out the sun and killed every living thing it touched except for humans. Why people didn't die immediately from the ash was a mystery to him, but in the end it killed everyone all the same. As all the food withered, the number of dead had quickly become so large it was impossible to comprehend.

He and his little family had been lucky in a sense, Joseph had stored food in a bunker his father had built under the shack. Terrified of bombs during the cold war, his old man had insisted on teaching Joseph how to survive and it had served him reasonably well as the world ended. He didn't know for sure if this disaster continued worldwide, but it didn't matter in any case since they'd eventually become trapped as more and more of the seemingly immortal creatures roamed the cities and countryside.

Done with his drink, he headed towards the bunker and down into the ground. He'd expanded it over time as he'd tried to convince Hannah that another child would bring them hope, now it encompassed five rooms that had held all of the supplies he had stockpiled before the storm. As he looked around for the dwindling food, he tried to ignore the comfortable surroundings Hannah had worked so hard on. Spotting a brown package, he snatched one of the last MREs and headed back up to sit on the leeward side of the shack and eat it. He could have stayed below, but the place felt empty without his wife and daughter.

It had been two weeks since Hannah and little Abby had walked past the fence while he screamed and begged for them to come back. Neither of them had looked back as they walked hand-in-hand into the shroud, and it had nearly broken him. Afterwards he had paced his confines like a wounded animal, terrified and confused, agonizing over every decision he'd made that day. Why had they not looked back? Had he driven them away somehow? Should he try and find them? Paralyzed by indecision, the weight of the questions had left him with a deep sense of dread and anxiety that physically weighed him down.

Two weeks later, he just felt numb as he finished his bland meal and stared into the hypnotic swirling patterns beyond the fence in mournful silence. He forced himself to leave the porch only once, compelled by the need to relieve his bowels and get another drink of water. It seemed that he was only capable of the bare minimum needed to survive and he was reaching a point where even that was too much. As the sun began to set a long sigh of exhaustion issued from his mouth and he returned to his bed, which he had dragged out of the bunker, and collapsed into it with a determination. Joseph fell into fitful sleep and the night passed, the wind the only audible sound.

He woke with a start, feeling exhausted and momentarily lost. As comprehension returned, he sat up and held his head in his hands trying to control the nearly overwhelming despair he felt while awake. Moving stiffly, he got out of bed and stepped towards the mirror but as his eyes came up, he froze in breathless confusion... the locket was not on it's nail. Scanning the room frantically, he wracked his mind, trying to remember if he had lost it but as his panic set in he became certain he had put it back the night before.

As his eyes roamed crazily, he came to a sudden trembling stop. On the floor was a set of blackened footprints leading to the mirror and back outside. His gut tightened to an excruciating ball and he quickly snatched his gun from its holster, stepping hesitantly to the door he opened it slowly. Outside the ash was closer than ever, whipped into a dizzying frenzy by the wind preventing him from seeing more than ten feet past the door, but it was enough. Crowded all around the shack as far as he could see, there were pale figures and black eyes. He slowly raised a shaking hand, and tried to aim.

As his finger tightened on the trigger, he heard a raspy but familiar voice "We forgive you, we love you Joseph". The figures began to part and two of the wraiths came forward, one only four feet tall, and on the chest of the other a gleam of gold in the shape of a heart. "We're sorry we left Joseph, but we're better now", the smaller one, "we want you to come with us too, daddy." Fear staked Joseph's heart, his nerveless hands lost their grip on the revolver as it clattered onto the wood at his feet. He hesitated in a tortured moment of indecision, then stumbled out onto the porch and was enveloped as the shack vanished into obscurity behind him.

As the light fell Joseph beheld his wife and daughter, skin faded and marble-like, their clothes gone and their forms wreathed in the churning dust. His shaking became stronger, clutching his hands convulsively he began to cough as he stepped towards them, he felt a cold touch as Hannah caressed his face. Deep inside of his mind he felt that final point of resistance snap as he fell into their embrace. The last thing he beheld was two sets of black eyes and a gleam of gold, his lungs choking as he faded.