Chapter Five

Chapter Five

1

Sheva doubled over. She closed her eyes hoping that when she opened them again the quivering mass inches from her feet would vanish. Her chest burned. Every intake of breath was like a knife wrenching deep in her lungs. She forced out a sharp sigh and wiped beads of sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. The urge to dive under the wreckage mounted as something else stirred in the shadows. She considered the smashed bits of wood and plastic. To think it was resembled something beautiful was a tall order to fulfill.

Her gaze wavered to the gun in her hand. She counted only one round left. Once it was deplete she knew even the smallest of creatures would become a dangerous threat. Scavenging local shops for supplies would prove foolish, daring and to be a waste of time. This was a thought that rolled through her mind again and again. It never eluded her. The second it might she would slip into fantasy and surrender to a sorrowful fate. This was not beyond her.

She backpedaled, stumbled and nearly lost her footing before grabbing onto something fixed to the ground. A frown sketched her face. A moan sliced through the stale air and she quickly climbed to her feet. Searching the bleak space she saw horns stretch high above. She didn't bother to stick around to see what sort of face they were attached to. She bolted for the door. It hung by a few thick rusted hinges.

As she popped back out onto the avenue she froze. Trees made out of bone cluttered writhing muscle grounds. Hanging overhead swelled a bulging eye. It jerked, its veins large and overlapping one another. It made quite the ornament while deposited in a fiery tangerine sky as it watched.

As it curled from a slight gust that brushed over her, her attention leapt. She shifted and slowly approached the paper attached to a sheet of peeling skin. With shaky fingers she reached to claim it and snatched it as she listened to something squish under her step. She jumped back once she looked down and saw she had wandered onto muscle.

Until concrete was beneath her feet she shivered and shook. She looked down at glowing words written in heavy red ink. Then the voice reached into her. It had been a few hours since she heard it last. She had hoped it had faded, disappeared and might never return, but no such luck.

“‘Upon the night that shines with crimson light I summon forth the pair of dark lords. From their shells I will bring hell to rule over earth as it was meant to. Nothing to do about something has long since left the awareness of man. His logic rests only in ignorance as some relevance struggles with truth. There is nothing to learn from hate after all, except that it sours poor minds,’" the voice said, reading the letter word for word.

Sheva paused before reading on. "‘Shadows weave a dangerous world that might overcome the light. Sooner or later the dead will know the living and wander among them. They will crave their flesh and dine on it but not because the hunger is overpowering. It will come upon them in a form of manmade viruses. Only through these curses will they learn to value life instead of taking it for granted.’"

She looked up. The light was dimming. She blinked. No, the world was altering. It was twisting and waning like a moon at the end of a phase. She took a few steps back and watched as it became ordinary roads with ruins masquerading as buildings on either side. Tall and narrow strips of metal snaked out of boiling earth. In a couple more seconds they would resemble mutilated street lamps.

"The world of the living," the voice echoed, "is a world of pain and misery. The sooner you figure that out the better off you will be. Your friends, your so called colleagues will never again look upon your face and see a friend. In time they will fall into the same earthly trap and desire will rule them."

"Shut up," Sheva heard herself say.

She took another look at the paper in her hands. It smelled musty. Its final words burned into her mind and again as she read the voice gave the words vocalization.

"‘Poisoned minds mirror poisoned societies. For a select few this reality does not do anything more than vomit despair, but for the most part it questions a whole other possibility. Did the humans really inherit the earth or did they steal it from a more deserving creature? Perhaps this will never have an answer as long as there is doubt.’"

“Doubt in what,” Sheva asked. She thought the voice might offer some insight. It had always muttered little offerings in her ear from time to time. Why would now be any different? Then just before she was about to resume her walk forward the voice spoke.

"It is time to say goodbye to yesterday. Yesterday has already decayed and is a fast pleasure that corrupts resolve. In the moment of bliss loyalty travels across oceans only to drown and eventually expel what we know as destiny. Like a flame it is extinguished. A new flame might take its place but the previous one lives no more. Humans are a lot like that. They have only a short time to visit. They were not made to last. Never in all the universes and its shared knowledge will this change. It is a perfect text etched in stone. Time marries space and within it matter created and uncreated. The things that harbor awareness in between are considered irritants with little hope for a successful future. I have witnessed this. I have lived this. Thus is the reason for the undead. Thus is the reason for viruses that give the appearance of life."

     2

She bolted upright. Sweat trickled from her temples as her eyes grazed the tight room. In the corner huddled over a shotgun was Sheva. She swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. Her eyes lingered a moment on the woman as she rested her head against the wall. Moonlight cascaded over her, highlighted her femininity and womanly contours, but as ghostlike moans drifted in through the flimsy glass her thoughts derailed.

Sheva rolled her head. She sighed as she peered at her. "You had another nightmare, Jill?"

Jill tittered on the edge as she stared at her boots. "Was it that obvious?"

Sheva admired the cold blue steel in her hands and answered, "Aren't they always?"

Together they stood.

     It hadn’t been pure luck in discovering Jill’s whereabouts.  The voice guided her step by step into twisted back alleys and crumbling buildings.  Oddly enough it was like something in a nightmare.

"We will find Chris," Sheva assured her.

Jill hung her head. She wanted to believe it. "I hope so," she whispered.

She shuffled closer to the window. On the street below bands of mutants staggered. It had now been seven years since it all began. Before a flick of memory retelling the event fell over her haze, she straightened.

"What do we do now?" She asked Sheva who had joined her at the window.

"That all depends on you," she answered and behind her she heard the faint click of the shotgun as Sheva snapped the long barrels back into place.

"I need to find him," she said.

Sheva nodded. "Then we search, but you must resign yourself to the possibility he could be…."

"I know."

Jill turned to her. Their eyes met.

"Let's get a move on," Sheva said and paid one last glance out the window before gathering up her backpacks and satchels.

Jill slid the straps of her own backpack over her shoulders. She adjusted the loop on her gun belt, double checked the ammunition in her Magnum and took a deep breath. She watched Sheva tie a white shirt around her waist. There had to be an end to this.

"Are you ready?" Sheva asked, her hand unlatching the first of many locks.

"As ready as I will ever be," Jill answered and watched her slid the bolt across into a golden holder.

Sheva's hand hovered over the last lock. "There is no turning back once we are out this door."

"Well, we can't stay here forever," Jill said.

Sheva flicked the lever of the deadbolt over and said, "My thoughts exactly."

Jill stooped.

Sheva motioned with her head toward an opening. Her brown leather boots clicked on cement as she ambled toward it. Jill followed, the sound of her own boots echoing in her ears. They peered out at the street. It looked no different than it did from the window. Skeletal remains lay in a wide variety amongst sheets of yellow tinged newspapers and other discarded items.

A single flashing neon sign splashed across the stretch of littered pavement. The establishment it advertised for seemed entirely unscathed and open for business. Jill licked her lips. Her throat suddenly was very dry.

"Let's check it out," Sheva whispered.

Jill shook her head.

"I don't like the looks of it," Jill whispered back. She stared at the windows. They felt like eyes watching her. "It just seems a bit odd it stands without as much as a burn or fissure."

Sheva said, "We aren't doing any good standing here. We have to keep moving before we attract anything."

She motioned for her to follow and together they shot out onto the street. They squatted behind an overturned bread truck. It had long since been scavenged, its back doors unbolted and hanging by rusted hinges and its windows smashed. For the most part it escaped heavy damage and suffered only minor singe marks unlike other particles discovered further along the way.

Sheva dodged a rolling tin garbage can. They stepped over a bent lamp post that hung like a signaling left arm yanked out its socket. The building was a bar. It beckoned to Jill. She inched toward its high gloss double wooden doors and as Sheva opened one, a familiar world opened to them. Wafting to their nostrils an essence of steak, bacon and alcohol awoke their hunger and thirst.

With her gun and trained eyes searching every direction, Sheva entered first. Jill pulled the door shut behind her as a chill coursed down her spine. Booths, empty and well maintained curved her suspicion. Their shining leather upholstery invited her to take a load off and just sit a while, but she shook her head. There was no time to lollygag. Her gaze slid to the marble crafted counter tops as they inched around a bend. The high stools that lined alongside them were in perfect order. Not a one was upturned or even a half an inch out of sequence. Jill furrowed her brows. Her cheeks became hot.

"Jill," Sheva whispered.

Jill froze. Sitting slouched over a tall glass of bronze liquid, a man lifted the brim of his hat to acknowledge their presence. He neither seemed happy or disgusted to see them. He simply gave them a nod and raised the glass to his dry, cracked lips. Jill watched as his throat muscles worked to swallow its contents.

"What are you doing here," Sheva asked.

The man didn't move. He stared straight ahead as he answered. "Having a drink like always, but the last time I checked it wasn't a crime."

Sheva kept her shotgun pointed at him.

"Aren't you aware of what is happening?" Jill asked.

"The world has gone to hell," the man replied. "It was bound to happen sooner or later."

His face angled toward her. It was lined with deep wrinkles and small brown spots. "I figure where else would I be when the end comes."

Jill narrowed her vision. She hadn't expected to hear such nonsense and by Sheva's reaction neither had she.

"We have to get out of this city," Sheva explained, her voice thin. "If you want to stay here sipping booze I won't stop you, but any smart person would know when to call it quits."

The man chuckled. "I am not an alcoholic if that is what you mean." He swallowed another mouthful and slid the glass to his right as if to offer her a taste. Jill watched the tawny fluid slosh, bubble and foam. "Why not have just one sip."

"No, thanks," Sheva said and continued to side step around him. "We will just be on our way."

The man shrugged. "Have it your way, but heed my warning; hell has no escape."

Jill became rigid. Her eyes narrowed. His thick, oily hair with its peppered flecks hung across his low forehead that wrinkled as she said, "Maybe for you there is no escape."

Her eyes found the gold deliciousness of his glass as he tilted it to his lips. Sweat beaded again on her temples. She never had been so thirsty before. Watching him made her body quiver with need. She took an uncertain step toward him, was about to reach out and take it as he again offered it to her. A hand ceased her wrist.

"No," Sheva said.

"Why not," the man said. His voice was now husky and darker than before. "Just one sip never hurt anyone."

Together they watched as his pupils filled with fire. They backed away, weapons aimed now at his face as it bubbled and churned like hot melting wax.