Adumbration

“How long has it been?” I ask, unintentionally holding my breath for a moment as I look at the ceiling, chewing at a particularly devious hangnail.

Jared looks to the calendar, the sound of the page flipping up audible in the silence of the apartment. His breaths pause for a moment as he replies, sighing, “86 days.”

I harrumph back at him as I turn to my side, holding my head as I look off into the distance, thinking. The sun filtered through the blinded windows in the kitchen, casting large swathes of yellow patches across the floors, the coffee table, littered with empty cigarette cartons and three books that I’ve been cycling through for the last week. It’s been hard to concentrate, lately. Maybe I should try to read one, now.

Hanna pokes her head out of the other room, her black and green hair catching my eyes as her fingers curve softly around the door frame, “You up?”

I sit up, smirking as I look to her, her sharp green eyes, intense with the green of a clover field on a stormy day with all sun and no rain, intent but full of silenced questions. Rumbles of proposed chaos held within her eyes, behind floodgates that she has no control of. She smiles back, sheepishly, a faint hello on her lips. And as she looked at me with hints of regret, I remembered.

I open my side table drawer and pull out a snickers I was waiting to save for a rainy day, and scoot over on the couch, holding it out to her as a peace offering, “Want it?”

Her eyes pull wide open as she excitedly clasps her hands together, attempting her best not to squeal, “Uh, Yes! Of course!”

She skips over and practically jumps on the bed to sit next to me, quickly destroying the crinkly wrapper and practically deep-throating the damn bar. I stifle my laughter in a cough, and she looks at me, surprised, perhaps a bit worried, “You okay?”

I nod, clearing my throat, holding up my hand in assurance. She crumples the wrapper in a ball and looks at me, her face turning sheepishly serious as my cough just suddenly disappears. Her cheeks blush ever so slightly as she looks down at her hands, her fingers, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles.

“Are you really? Okay?” she asks, looking up at me, her red stained eyes reminiscent of the tears that had marked her skin with smudged eye liner. My heart aches and longs, causing my own cheeks to flush as well. Not in shame or guilt, but in jealousy. In anger. In frustration, in betrayal.

She didn’t betray me, but it feels like it. It feels like it.

I take a second, listening to my breath. I look into her eyes, nodding, trying to exude understanding through my face without having to say the words. She nods, as if she understands, and I half-smile in return. A pit in my stomach lies knotted, though, knowing what had been said.

“I should go for a food run,” I say, looking towards the covered window, the shadows of the shrub outside waving ever so slightly with the breeze, the shadows dancing across the floor. It’s hard to believe that there is an outside, sometimes, being stuck in here all the time.

“So soon?” Asks Jared, looking back at me, concerned. He glances at the calendar, “It’s only been a week.”

“Yea, and we have plenty of Ramen,” says Hanna as she extends her hand towards me, but retracts it quickly, her eyes darting away as I look to her.

Jared contorts his face as if he were puking, his tongue sticking out as he rolls his eyes, “God, I’m getting sick of that shit. Fuckin noodles UGH.”

First of all, sir, noodles are delish. Second of all you have NO taste for the finer things in life.

“Noodles are like, probably on God’s list of Finest Things,” I stated aloud, wanting to say more but keeping those thoughts in my head.

Like, if I was on death row and had to choose a death dish, it would be pasta. No doubt. Fucking noodles. Have em savory, have em Italian style, have em Irish style, have em German style, have em all sorts of styles, man. PASTA. THE CHOICES.

I must’ve been contorting my face as I was thinking, because he looks at me as if he were on the verge of laughing.

Hanna harrumphs, “Probably why we have so much of it, I guess.”

More for the rest of us, eh?

I take a deep breath, figuring out how best to come out with it, a nervous chuckle escaping me as his gaze lands back on me, “I’ve been thinking.”

He leans back into his chair, “Of what? Pasta?” He asks, chuckling.

“No. I mean, yes, for a second, I guess. But,” I sigh, again, not wanting to speak it. He looks down at his hands, as if he knows.

“You wanna leave,” he says, crossing his gaze to the window, nodding, his body stoic, and his face emotionless. A hint of a smirk crosses his lips, “Don’t blame you, it’s like a fucking prison in here. And you’re the only one fast enough to go on food runs. Miss track runner. Without that …we’d be fucked.”

I shrug, not knowing what to say. How to proceed. How to help. I don’t want to do this alone. I really, really don’t want to do this alone.

“There’s a camper just outside of town, about a mile past Wally,” I say, with some semblance of a last bit of hope, the words pouring out of me fast, wanting to get the rejection over, softly cringing at the possibility.

“What were you doing out there?” He asked, his eyes widening with thoughts racing behind them, “You could’ve been killed!”

“No! No, that’s not ... I mean, I won’t lie, but I was careful, you know? And I only went out that one time,” I say quickly, not expecting that kind of response, “I mean, there was an ad for it a ways back, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. I took a look at it before,” I gesture around, “Shit, went down. But I swear, I only went out that one time,” I explain, hoping he would understand, “I want to go check it out. All of us. If it’s movable, if it’s good, we should go. Take it and run. Get out of dodge. We’d all have a place to sleep, we could … actually do something, you know? Get the fuck outta here.”

“They’ll get us before we even get out the door. I don’t know how you thought you could get away with going all the way out there and back without a scratch, much less probability of all of us doing that with no other trauma to destroy us before we get back.”

I was thrown off a bit. I made it back, didn’t I? Safely? Like, that was my decision. To go out. To find a way out. To watch and learn and understand how they worked well enough to know that I would be safe enough.

“Nono, see that’s the thing,” I say, nervousness rising in my heart, wanting to rectify the situation. I’ve made it worse, already, “I’ve been watching them,” I say, looking to see their reactions, “They congregate at certain times of the day, over by the clinic. Just before dark, about an hour beforehand. If we leave then, we can hightail it out of here, grab the trailer and get out. I’m sure of it.”

“Are you? Sure, I mean?” He asks, looking at me, his brows furrowed. Inquisitive.

“Yes. I am,” I say, physically leaning into the words, “I am.”

“And gas? What are we going to do about that?” Asks Hanna, thinking.

“Siphon it out of parked cars. Plenty of those around,” I say, gesturing towards the parking lot.

He doesn’t say anything as his eyes zone out, gazing towards the general area of the kitchen, the yellow shapes on the floor slowly disappearing, and then returning quickly.

I scoot myself back, pulling my feet up onto the couch, knowing it would take him a minute to think, knowing in my heart the rejection I’m about to face and not wanting to look it in the eyes. The wait is always the most painful, the apprehension, the uncertainty. I turn my gaze towards Hanna, apologetically, “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier, I was just worried about telling you. I was just trying to spare you the worry that you would spend on me. I kind of … just wanted to not have to bother you with all this. I didn’t want you to worry.”

She looks down at her hands again, biting her lip, wanting to say something, but closing her mouth, her shoulders fallen.

I grab her hand, holding it, “I’m scared, Hanna. I don’t want to go out there alone, I don’t want to leave by myself, but … I can’t stay. I can’t do this. It’s killing me. I’d rather chance those things than stay cooped up here. I mean, no offense, but … what’s gonna happen when we run out? Of anything that we need? I mean, we’re lucky the balcony is slightly hidden, we can collect the water we need from there, but we have no power. No electricity. Nothing. We exist in darkness, and we can’t even open up our blinds for fear those things will find us.”

Jared harrumphs loudly, and I look at him as he says, “So, I’m thinking, right? That if they’re congregating, then, logically, they’re discussing things, hm? … Ugh, discussing things. What, are they intelligent or something? I mean, if they’re congregating, it’s for a reason. Right? Like, routes and prey and such, maybe? I don’t know, I’m just talking out of my ass. But, like, lone wolfs probably wouldn’t be the norm, right? Scouts, maybe, probably, but if they’re congregating, most likely they’re pack animals. Which usually indicates large swathes of territory... yada yada yada,” he falls quiet, continuing his train of thought in his own head.

“That’s … a lot of assuming,” I say, looking at him. I had figured out most of that and more through my own research, but I wanted him to figure it out so that the decision wasn’t influenced, so that he made the decision. Like a cat. He’s like a cat. I chuckle to myself.

He nods, looking at me, “What have you … found out during your own scouting, then? Does that seem to match up?”

I think for a moment, and nod slowly, “It actually does. But I kind of feel like, per your analogy, they’re more feline in ‘like’ company. They don’t like to be around each other typically, unless they go to that daily meeting thing. When they attack, it’s very much like a wolf or a dog type of scenario, like we’ve seen.”

“So you have scouted, then?” He asks, as if confirming a suspicion.

“Just the roof. I’ve only gone out that one time. Mostly I watch from windows and such. 4A’s got a telescope and they’re on the north side, with visibility to the clinic without the Clock Tower in the way. Pretty perfect location, to be honest.”

He nods, thinking, “Well, if they have territories, most likely, we won’t stop running into these things. No matter where we are.”

“Are you thinking about it? About leaving?”

“I do kind of like your proposition,” he says, trailing off, thinking, “But if we know these guys’s schedule, wouldn’t it be nice to revolve our lives around that? We can adjust. We know their schedule. If we go out, there’s no guarantee that they all work like that.”

“But ... you’re thinking about it?” I ask, a bit too excitedly, barely containing myself as I realize I probably spoke to aggressively. I try to pull back a bit.

He nods, “Yea. And I’ve been leaning more towards leaving than otherwise lately. Been doing some hard thinking. Part of me likes the security of this place, but … another part of me … hates it. I’ve never been one to stay put in the first place, but … I can’t see myself sitting here for 10 more years, pulling by with scraps of food, with Ramen, waiting for the day these creatures bust down the door and eat me.”

I poke my head out of the apartment, looking down the hallway, not seeing anything on either side. I bring the bags out and close the door behind me, quickly and quietly making my way to the opposite end of the complex, towards the basement. I look down at the grab today, excited over the telescope I brought, hoping that we can bring it with on our escape tonight. As I get close to the door, I hear very heavy footsteps behind me. I pause every movement, my heart pounding in my chest as I catch my breath. I slowly turn my head around, and see nothing. But, I know that to be a lie. I cannot trust my eyes. And, as I stand there, frozen, a figure mirages into the space in front of me: it is a Creature.

Standing there.

Staring at me.

My heart is beating fast, red in the air, static in my ears, in my chest, in my throat, each beat of my heart thumping through the static, as if were a song. Heard three rooms away, feeling like it’s going to explode out of my eardrums in cacophony.

I take a step back, holding out my bag filled hand as if to put something in between us, keeping a tight grip on the telescope, the one thing I really wanted out of this whole trip, hoping that this is not my last day on this planet. My throat is dry, my breaths are short, and fast. I’m trying to keep a level head but there’s not much I can do, except slowly back up towards the door to the apartment. It sits down, looking at me with its eyes, eyes that have probably watched and participated in many deaths, its teeth sharp but hidden behind scaled lips, which opens partially as he lops out his tongue, breathing heavily. I take another step back, and another, and the monster stays put, not moving forward. Why isn’t he attacking me? Is he … is he cute? No! Stop it! He has the blood of how many deaths on his teeth. Wait. Should I even be returning to the apartment? Will they know we are there, then? Where else am I supposed to go? He’s blocking the way!

I go to the door, and open it, watching the monster as I back up into the apartment, and close the door.

I lean against the door, breathing heavily, mulling it over in my mind. Did that just happen? Why … why did it just sit there? I look through the peephole, and the Creature just continues to sit there, looking around impatiently. It then goes to turn around and disappears, it’s heavy footsteps barely audible as it retreats.

We see the camper, inspecting it, going over it, realizing that it looks perfectly fine, despite what looked like a years worth of lack of upkeep. We look back at the truck, realizing we could, finally, have a bed to sleep on instead of each other’s laps or the couch. I turn back towards the house, wondering what had happened there, when I see movement in the window. I look closer but find it is the drapery moving slowly with the draft caused by the open front door. We start working on the chains of the trailer, but as we do, I hear strange gurgling noises behind me and immediately turn to find a human striding towards us, hands outreached, as if to attack Hanna, the closest one to him. I jump over the bar towards the humanoid, pushing Hanna further behind me before I push the dude away. But, even when he falls down, he wastes no time getting back up and attempts to pursue us further. I jump back over the bar, pulling Hanna back as he hits the bar and looks down, visibly annoyed. He had injured part of his leg, it looks like, and cannot stand on it, however, he throws it on teh other side of the bar and leans his weight on it and falls to the ground. As he does this, I look at him - his clothes are old, disgusting, and rag like. Tattered, matching his hair, which looked as if he hadn’t showered in weeks. His legs had a wound on them, one gash large and open, but no blood running out, as if they were gushing blood at some point but then it stopped. The portions of his skin that were visible were pallid, almost blue toned, but most importantly, his face has blood smeared on it, splayed in such a way as to suggest that it was not his blood. And his eyes, were dead. As in, there was no life there, he pushed forward with a senseless, mindless gaze. His teeth, a pale yellow showing through the black saliva that seemed to drip out of his mouth.

A zombie? They were … real?

We hadn’t seen any in town, like, at all. Granted, for the first day we were knocked out from a crazy night of drinking and drugs. Instead, there were just those creatures, going around and just killing random people and had been since we woke out to screams. The media couldn’t even say much. Something about a sort of human rabies, a reaction to a medicine, and then these creatures just showing up and just slaughtering entire towns and cities, wiping out humans left and right.

I hear my name, and Jared had attempted to hold back the zombie from attacking Hanna again. But now he was fighting with the zombie himself, crying out for help. I sprint over and pull the zombie off with all my might, sending him sprawling down to the ground as I help Jared up. He looks at me about as incredulously as I must be looking at him, whether from the situation or from the fact that I just disassociated so hard I lost track of what the fuck was happening in front of me. We both gaze upon the gargling, intrepid humanoid before us.

I hear a noise, a high pitch whine, as if something of great mass is headed towards us, skyward.

Hanna comes up next to us, gun in hand as the creature gets up, but I hold her back, as she shoots me a confused look.

“Wait,” I say, looking upwards, attempting to find the source of the sound. In the distance, I see one of thone creatures … Flying towards us, rocketing down at a quick speed. I back up, pulling the others, as it lands right on top of the zombie, growling low and loud as the creature tears it’s head off, chewing it like it’s a piece of gum, the crunching of the bones breaking - a sickening sound.

It perks it’s head up, and turns it towards me, looking at me. Sniffing the air, as it picks it’s feet off of the bloody corpse, inspecting it, and licking the blood off before setting it down again. It then looks to me again, and sits in front of me, it’s head cocking to the side. Hanna shakily brings up the gun, but I gently push it back down. It looks just as the other one did in the hallway. Same attitude, same ... wait is that freckle on the nose the same, as well? Is ... is this the same one?

Well, it didn’t hurt me then.

I take a step closer, Hannah softly vocalizing her dismay, and I ignoring her. The creature simply blinks at me, content in the moment, it’s ears twitching this way and that to gauge the danger of different sounds. Otherwise seemingly chill. I take another step, now close enough to feel the heat of the breath of the creature, and it does absolutely nothing, looking off into the distance. I reach out, and touch the creature, and it closes it’s mouth, looking at me, sniffing me, and then opening it’s mouth, almost … almost like a dog? It pushes against my hand with it’s head, closing it’s eyes momentarily as I scratch it’s skin.

What’s going on here?

I look back to Jared, my face full of confusion. He returns the gaze, shrugging slightly, probably the same look on his face as mine. Hanna takes a step forward, and the creature doesn’t move, just looks at me, and I do nothing. Show nothing. Hanna slowly comes up and reaches her hand out, too, and strokes the creature. She looks at me, incredulously. There’s a lot of that going around. Jared takes a step forward, and the creature starts growling. Everyone takes a step back, and the creature looks at me, almost as if he’s worried, and whimpers. I retake my footing, my hand on the creature almost immediately, my heart pumping, and look to Jared. He shrugs, not knowing what happened, but takes yet another step. I look at him like he’s an idiot. The creature doesn’t like him, right? As I think that, the creature lowers his head but doesn’t growl. Looks to me repeatedly as Jared comes closer. He holds out his hand, and the creature sniffs it, and cocks his head to the side. As if confused. He gets up, and we all take a step back, his wings unfurling for a moment as he shakes the troubles of a being a Creature away, looking to Jared, inspecting him visually, walking around him, sniffing him. Jared looks to me, worried, and I look on, similarly, unsure of what to do. The creature walks around him, circling him a couple times, sniffing him. He finds something, and sniffs closer, looking at his arm. Growling. At his arm. I look back, to the zombie that lays on the ground, sprawled out, a missing head, and look at the creature now, staring at Jared’s arm.

“Jared,” I say, calmly. He looks at me, fear taking hold in his mind, “Roll up your sleeve?” I ask him. He looks at me, confused, and then at the zombie, and at the creature. He nods, and does so, slowly, but rolling up the wrong sleeve.

“Jared,” I say, and he looks up, his eyes looking crazy.

“Jared, wrong sleeve,” I say, and he looks down, and nods, seeing that the creature was obviously staring at the other sleeve.

He chuckles a short moment, the creature growls but doesn’t move. As he rolls up his sleeve, the red of blood peeks out, and he inaudibly gasps as he realizes that he’s been bit. Did he not notice until now? He looks at the bite, his face growing pale, as we all seemed to know what it meant. He looked at the zombie.

The creature sniffs it some more, and looks at me, whimpering. Looking at Jared, and then licks it.

The creature licks the bite.

Jared revolts at the touch, pulling back his arm, holding it, as he takes a step back. The creature sits down, again, and looks at me, his face all … dog like. As if he’s proud. Of what?

“We should get that wrapped up,” I say, looking to Jared, motioning towards the wound. I walk over, the creature not moving as I go and grab the first aid kit from the back of the truck. I pull out some gauze and some ace wrap and wrap his arm, looking at the creature as it scratches its ear with it’s hind leg, sniffing it for a surprisingly lengthy amount of time.

“What is happening?” Asks Hanna, who had put the gun in her pants. That’s a stupid move. That’s why we have holsters. Which … are in the backseat of the truck, right next to the gun safe. I go and grab it quick and hand it to her, looking at the placement of the gun with a minor amount of judgment. She sheepishly smiles and puts it on correctly.

“What are we gonna do?” Asks Jared, motioning with his chin towards the creature, his hand massaging his injured arm.

“I’m … I’m not sure,” I say, looking at him.

How can such a dangerous creature look so harmless right now? And so … dare I say, adorable?

The creature looked to the sky, to the North, as if listening, his ears honing in on a sound in the distance. He looks to me, ruffles his body as he stands back up, yawning and stretching before stomping his feet a couple times, opening his wings up, crouching, and then jumping up, flying to the South just a bit, climbing higher until he dives back down, flying back down over us chirping at us as he passes.

We watch as he leaves, going out on his own, and look at each other.

“Did that … did that really happen?” asks Hanna.

“Since when did they fly?” Asks Jared.

“How did you not know that they fly?” I ask him.

He looks at me like I’m crazy, “I don’t know. I just thought … they were like chickens or something.”

“Chickens fly.”

“Well, not well. They just jump or something, right? I’m, right, right? Hanna?”

I look to them before gazing back towards the horizon, the trees in the distance blending with his dark figure as he strides past them with his large wings.

“I just never saw them, like, legit flying before, okay? I’m not dumb.”

“Never said you were, Jared,” I say, chuckling as I pick up Hanna’s pendant off of the ground, which was near the zombie’s hand.

“I guess that’s that, then,” says Jared, as he looks down at the zombie by the trailer.

I stand up, looking over the body, thinking of whether or not we should bury him. As I mull over those thoughts, something catches my eyes. I kneel down, to get a better look, inspecting the pool of blood that had formed, at the black that had mixed in with it. Black streaks that appear to seep out of the neck nub, and, as I looked closer, I saw that the black was coming out of the esophagus. It wasn’t necessarily in the blood, though it did look quite a bit darker than blood should look, but the liquid was a strange aspect. I felt a presence around me, a strange feeling of vindictiveness, of feeling hopeless, of confusion. I look around, feeling as if my surroundings were wrapped in a sheer curtain, my senses feeling as if they were deadened and heightened at the same time, like the stillness after the fresh fallen snow, the quiet that befalls the countryside, the soft echo of your own existence while everything else falls to the wayside, as if you were surrounded by a bubble filled with the sound of static.

“Nia, hey, you okay?” Asks Jared. I gaze for a minute longer before looking to him, my entire being seemingly drained, and tired. I didn’t even want to lift my head up. But my stomach felt sick and I knew if I didn’t attempt to lie down, the contents would end up on the ground.

“Um, can you, uh, hook it up?” I ask him. He nods, looking at me, his hands outstretched as if to catch me.

“Nia, you look horrible, you need help?” Asks Hanna as she grabs my arm.

I lean on her momentarily, “I’m not feeling too well, I guess.”

We stumble to the truck and I pull myself up into the backseat, laying down. My stomach was in knots as I stare at the back of the passenger seat, the fuzz moving slightly with every deep breath, my eyes flitting close as the sleep calls to me.

A man stands before me, a yellow, aged hat on his head, with printed words I cannot see. His clothes are tattered, he is standing there, pleading, but no words come out of his moving mouth.

“What?” I ask, not understanding.

He looks at me, surprised, “You need to set me free! Please, I am stuck here!” He stands, unable to move, unable to take a step, as the fog around us, of which I didn’t even know was there beforehand, falls away to reveal hundreds of others behind him, going on and on in all directions. He continues, “We’re all … we’re all just … stuck. Please. Free us.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how,” I say, scared, wanting to help, wanting to do something, but not knowing what to do, “I’m sorry, please. I-I don’t know.”

I feel a pull, something almost physically drawing my body upwards, and as the guy reaches out to me, pleading, his voice fading as I drift back to my body, I see a figure, illuminating, before me.

“Darling, oh … How I’ve been waiting for you.”

I hear the doors of the vehicle opening, and I look back at the noise, only to see that I am inches above my body, and am suddenly sucked back in as I look back to find nothing but the back window, but for the fern sticker that was long ago attached.

I open my eyes as everyone gets in the truck. I look at the back window, wondering what exactly happened, the fern seemingly to help keep the images somewhat fresh, but those remnants of memories and still images in my mind were arranged in nothing but an incohesive stream of random information that makes no sense. My stomach is churning, my skin is cold, I feel as if all the color has drained from my face as I sit up, holding my arms to my stomach. Hanna looks back at me, and I smile weakly, letting her know that I was okay. She looks concerned as she rifles through some things and pulls out a bottle of water for me. Jared starts up the truck and pulls away, everyone itching to leave the grisly scene behind us. I open the water, my hands shaking as I momentarily struggle. As we drive out of the gravelly driveway, kicking up dust behind us, I could feel the draped, sheer curtain lift away, my senses seemingly returning to normal, the memory of the dream drifting further and further away as the fuzziness disappears from my limbs. We leave the driveway, the left blinker on as we aim to head northward towards the forest on the far side of the next state over.

As I look back at the house, I can’t help but feel as if I forgot something. Something important, but I ignore the feeling, reveling in the quick recovery of my body from that ghastly sickness that had temporarily taken over me. And I look forward, to a whole new chapter in life.