Sacrifice

A girl makes the ultimate sacrifice for her own survival. Will she ever forgive herself?

It was necessary for my survival. It was necessary for my survival. It was necessary for my survival. I repeat to myself as I push my way through the woods.


It has been three years since the beginning. I think. There have been three winters since the start, so I think we’re at three years now. Could be four, but hey, who’s counting anymore?


No one knows what started it; disease, chemical weapons, or something else entirely? The “dead” began to rise. All I know is you get bit, you die. Maybe not right away, but eventually you die. Horribly.


At first, the government took point on controlling the “infected”. They set up military check points and they quarantined neighborhoods. If you were found to be infected, they removed you and you were never seen again. No one know what happened to their loved ones that got infected. Knowing what I know now, they probably shot them in the head and burned them.


The military presence lasted only a few weeks. The “infection” spread like wildfire. As more news of infected spread, people started to panic. As the panic intensified the soldiers started to abandon their posts to go find their family. Which is understandable, but it left the citizens to fend for themselves.


I was in Ottawa, WI when it all started. I was one of the lucky ones, I already knew how to survive. My dad used to take me hunting in northern Wisconsin when I was a kid. He taught me all about guns and even bought me a gun for my 16th birthday. Being a 16-year-old girl, I wanted a car, but hey, guns are cool too.


We’d hunt, and he’d show me how to field dress our kills and how you can preserve it in many ways. He was kind of one of those survival nuts. But whose nuts now?


Just have to keep moving. Just must keep moving. Keep moving. Keep. Moving.


Within the first year and a half, I lost almost all of the people I loved. My parents and my sisters. The only person I had left was Jeff, my boyfriend. We survived together for quite a while after we lost everyone else. We never joined up with any other groups, we kept to ourselves. The less people in a group the less you have to worry. The less people to care about, the less you risk yourself.


You don’t know how dangerous groups of terrified people are. We’ve seen groups do some pretty terrible stuff to other survivors on the road.


We stayed off the main thoroughfares and made our way westward. We made it to Papillion, Nebraska. It was a pretty small town, so we decided to hang around a bit there before we made our way farther south. We rolled into town pretty late, so we found somewhere to take shelter.


We made house in a little blue ranch with a white-picket fenced in yard about a mile from the main drag. The outside had some nice brick work too with a porch that was the length of the house. We figured we would stay the night and scavenge what we could in the morning.


The place seemed pretty empty of people and infected. A few infected, but they were slow enough we could maneuver around them.


We were able to scavenge some first aid stuff, some antibiotics, and other meds from the small Ma & Pa pharmacy they had. The next day we thought we would head to the grocery store. There wasn’t a whole lot left. All the fresh produce and meat were reduced to a stinking mush with a nice coating of mold and other colorful fuzz.


We decided to check the back stock to see if they had more canned food other than black olives that were left on the shelf (ugh!). I was in the far back corner looking at some canned meat and Jeff was in the front.


“Hey, there’s another room back here, and I’m going to check it out,” he called.


“Alright, just keep an eye out for other people and the infected.”


“Got it.” And he headed off out of sight. A few minutes a later I heard a crash and Jeff scream. I dropped everything in my hands and rushed into that back room. There was an infected on top of Jeff with his arm in her mouth.


I rushed behind the infected and jammed my bowie knife into the base of its skull with a hard schunk. I rolled the body off Jeff and he sat up against the shelves holding his wounded arm.


“Babe..“ I said as I grabbed some gauze out of my bag.


“It’s alright, “he grimaced as I wrapped his arm. He reached up and cupped my face with his other hand. I could feel my face flush with the tears welling up behind my eyes. But I couldn’t lose control. Not now, not here. We had to get back to the house.


“Come on, we should probably head back before more come. Those shelves falling made a lot of noise.” He nodded and I helped him up. We grabbed as much as we could and slowly made our way back to the little blue ranch.


As we walked, I knew what I was going to have to do. I didn’t want to, but what choice did I have?


We had finally gotten back to the house and I could tell he was already starting to feel the infection. He was sweating and his eyes were red and his skin a grayish yellow. He looked awful. I’m sure he felt worse.


I helped him lie down on the tattered navy and floral couch. He winced as he bumped his arm.


“Do you want me to look at it again? Maybe change the bandage again? Looks like it’s still bleeding pretty good.”


“Yeah, but don’t waste a lot of the gauze or water or anything. We both know what’s going to happen.” I just looked at him, and then looked at the floor.


“I know you’re right, but please don’t say it. I can’t lose you. I love you.”


“I know, I love you too but what’s done is done. I’m bitten. I’ll die. Probably sooner than later based on how awful I feel.” I just looked down and shook my head, tears glittered in my eyes.


“Please, promise me, you won’t let me turn. I don’t want to be one of them,” he pleaded as he grabbed my arm.


“I promise,” I said as I looked into his eyes and cried silently cupping his cheek. I kissed him and held his hand as we sat in silence surrounded by candles.


Just keep going. One foot in front of the other. Keep moving. You need to survive.


I didn’t sleep at all. I just held his hand and tried to burn the sensation of his hand in mine into my brain so I would never forget what it was like to touch him. I slid my thumb over the back of his hand in slow strokes, as if to soothe him. We sat like that for what seemed like an eternity.


I’m not sure what time it was when his breathing started to change, but I know it was black outside and the candles had burned low. I sat up a little straighter and focused on his chest rising and falling. Before my eyes, I could see each breath become shallower, and shallower. I knew he was nearing the end, but I couldn’t end it if I knew he was still alive, even if just barely. I had to wait for the moment he slipped away.


I placed my hand on his chest so I could feel each breath. I had to wait for the last one, not a moment before. Before long he let out a ragged gasp and my hand and his chest were still. I waited a moment to make sure. Once I was satisfied he was gone, I grabbed my bowie knife from my belt and leaned over him. I gave him a kiss on his clammy flesh as tears streaked my face and dripped onto his cheek.


“I love you, and I’m sorry,” I whispered as I plunged my knife into the base of his skull. I sat next to his body and cried until the sun rose and the candles burned to nothing.


In the light, I searched the garage for a shovel and some wood. I headed to the fenced in yard once I found what I was seeking.


I commenced to digging Jeff’s grave. I sobbed and cried and screamed and cursed. Soon there was a small gathering of the infected standing at the fence staring and growling and reaching for me. I screamed at them as I dug. Told them I was going to kill every last one of them. I dared them to test me.


I dug, and dug, and dug. It was almost dusk by the time I had finished. I went back in and brought Jeff out. I had wrapped him in the only sheets I could find, yellow with little blue flowers all over them. I laughed to myself thinking Oh, Jeff would just love this.


Once I got to the hole, I laid Jeff at the edge and jumped in. Once I was in, I grabbed him and pulled him in as gently as I could. I arranged him so he could at least be comfortable, well as comfortable as a dead person could be. I kissed him on the forehead and told him I loved him and that we would find each other again one day. I cut a lock of his brown hair with my knife and put it in my satchel.


I pulled myself out of the grave and began to cover him with the earth. After the deed was done, I took the shovel and took out the gawking infected at the fence and went back inside.


I had a can of spaghetti and laid down on the floor next to the couch where Jeff had perished. I planned to start heading south again in the morning. And that’s what I did.


I travelled southwest for a good 8 and half months. So that makes it maybe year four or five of the apocalypse? But hey, who’s counting?


I ended up in a little town called Kingman, AZ. That brings us up to present day.


I now find myself in an old building that used to be an insurance place. I also find myself very, very pregnant and in labor. Turns out our stay in Nebraska was just full of surprises.


I can feel that the contractions are close together. I scream around my belt in my teeth through the pain, even though I know it will draw the infected, but I can’t hold it in. It f*****g hurts! I feel like I have been in labor for 10 years, even though I know it’s probably only been 12 or 14 hours. I labor for another 4 or 5 hours and finally… the baby comes.


It’s a boy. He has blue eyes and lots of dark hair, just like Jeff. As I hold him, I cry. First, I cry for him and then I cry for me. I miss Jeff so terribly. I wish he were here to see our beautiful baby. This kid needs a name. The first name that pops into my head is Ethan.


Now I must deliver the placenta, at least according to the birthing books I’ve read over the last few months. The book said the gently pull on the umbilical ford and push down on the uterus to help expel the placenta. I set Ethan on my chest and I do as the book instructs. A few minutes later the placenta is free. I take out my knife and I cut the cord.


I’m still bleeding pretty good, so I take out a pack of super absorbent Depends I found at a pharmacy down the road. Not super dignified, but I can’t be leaving a bloody trail everywhere.


At this point I’m so exhausted, I can’t think anymore. I crack open a can of chili and eat it quickly so I can feed Ethan and go to sleep. When Ethan finished nursing, I wrap him in a pink sweater I found hanging on the back of one of the gray office chairs. Sorry, kid. Once he is settled, I crash.


I wake to the screeching cries of the baby. I have no idea how long I was out, but I feel a lot better than I did last night, that’s for sure.


I try to comfort him, because I can see that his wails are starting to draw more of the infected to the windows. I try cleaning him up, I try singing, I try rocking him, and I try nursing him. He is pretty quiet for the duration of the nursing session.


The infected keep gathering at the windows, now that its day and they can see us, despite the grime and years of dirt. Seems that if the infected see other infected gathering they follow suit. Lucky me.


I scurry behind one of the big metal desks with the baby, so we are at least out of sight.  The moaning and banging on the glass from the infected is deafening. I can see the bathroom around the corner, so I try to scoot as quickly and quietly as I can with Ethan clutched to my chest and my bag dragging behind me.


I can hear the infected moan and bang louder now that they’ve seen us again. This is getting bad. The louder they moan and bang the more will come. Maybe they’ll quiet down in a bit since they can’t see us anymore. So, we wait.


After about a half hour they quiet down a little, but I can still hear them banging on the glass. Ethan and I spend the rest of the day and night in the bathroom.


I snap awake to the echoes of Ethan’s wails in the morning. The bathroom amplifies his cries. I try to comfort him any way I can, and nothing is working. I can hear the infected moaning louder. The cries are exciting them way too much. They are moaning and banging as loud as ever now. I was hoping having the door closed would help muffle any sounds the baby made, but it doesn’t seem to be working.


I suddenly hear a high-pitched screech. I peek my head outside the bathroom and I can see cracks beginning to spider web through the glass the infected are pressed against. That glass is not going to hold much longer if I can’t keep this baby quiet.


Nothing I do quiets this kid. He doesn’t want to nurse, he’s not soiled, and even the finger in the mouth to try to pacify him isn’t working. If he doesn’t shut it now, we are both going to be torn apart.


I look at the glass and I see new cracks radiate throughout the large plate and I look at Ethan. Time seems to slow down as I glance between the window and the baby. This is a do or die situation. I must make a choice. Do I save myself or let us both die? This is not a choice I want to make, but I don’t think there is any way to survive in this world with an infant. Their needs are too great, they are too vulnerable. At least, that’s what I tell myself. He’s the last piece of Jeff I have, but I can’t save us both, there are just too many surrounding the building now.


The glass is creaking and screeching and I can see it’s is moments away from bucking under the weight of all the infected. Tears well in my eyes, threatening to spill out and blur my vision. I don’t want to leave him, but what choice do I really have? How can I raise a kid on my own on the road?


“I’m sorry,” I whisper to him before I kiss his little forehead. “I’m so sorry, Ethan,” I sniffle. I take my knife out and cut a lock of his hair, just like I did with Jeff. He continues to cry. I lay him, still wrapped in the pink sweater, on one of the desks on the side of the room opposite the back door. His wails echo through the building.


I look over and the glass gives way and the infected start to pour in. They go straight for Ethan and I make a beeline to the back door. A few infected amble after me, but the majority are fixated and descending upon the baby.


I bust through the fire door and encounter a small horde of infected. I was able to push my way through, slapping and pushing them as I ran. And I ran. And I ran.


Just keep moving. Don’t think about it. You did it to survive. You can make other babies later.


I’m not sure how far I’ve run or what distance I’ve covered, all I know is I have to keep moving. I moved through the night, not stopping for anything. I had to get as far away from that place as I possibly could. I could feel the blood running down my legs, but I couldn’t stop.


I come to a sign and it says McConnico, AZ. The place is like ghost town. I’m numb and on auto pilot. I roll into the gas station and rummage for something quick to eat and drink.


I find some power bars and bottles of water on the floor in the gas station. I grab a few and toss them in my satchel. I also found another pack of Depends. I stash those in my pack as well. The station isn’t super secure, the windows are mostly busted out and the glass door has been obliterated. So, I decide to start walking until I make it to a more secure area. I walk for a few hours and I come to another sign. Golden Valley, AZ.


The town is smallish. Lot of ranch houses. Nothing but sand everywhere. So. Much. Sand. I walk up on a white and dingy blue house. It is surrounded by a chain link fence maybe waist high. There’s an old white muscle car in the driveway missing a bumper. There is a blue dumpster sitting directly in front of the fence in front of the house. There is a swing set, a bike and various toys strewn through the enclosed yard.


Looks safe enough, especially with the fence in front. I quietly hop the fence and for s***s and giggles try the front door. Locked. Figured. I sneak around to the back and try the back door. Also locked. D****t. Apparently, no houses have basements in Arizona. So, I can’t even break a basement window. The no basement thing is so bizarre.


So I quietly hop back over the fence in the back to come around to the garage. There is a solid door to try and they have a small window on the side. I try the outside door. Locked. Hmm, okay fine, I’ll break the damn window.


I take my bandana and wrap it around my elbow and hit that window with all the power I can muster. It breaks with a clink sound and a sharp clatter of glass hitting the concrete floor of the garage. I take my knife and break the rest of the small shards out of rest of the window casing so I can crawl in. Before I take the leap, as it were, I wait a few seconds to see if any infected are in the garage.


About a minute passes and there is nothing. So, I hoist myself up and crawl through the window and take a not so soft landing on the floor, in the glass. Fantastic. I stand up and check myself, good, no impaling pieces of glass.


I hold my knife up and creep slowly to the door. I listen for a moment to see if I can hear any infected inside. I don’t hear anything out of the ordinary, so I tap the door with my knife. Tap. Tap. Tap.


Still no noises or movement, so I tap again, only louder. TAP. TAP. TAP. Still nothing. I figure if nothing came hurdling toward the door after that, there’s nothing in there. I try the knob. Open. Finally! I head in slowly with my knife still drawn.


The house smells like it has been closed up for a long while. Its musty and thick. I can see the dust floating in the air on the small streaks of light that find their way in the house. I check all the rooms. Nothing. No one. Empty. I breathe a sigh of relief. I can finally take a rest.


I’m exhausted, so I plop down on the beige suede sofa and I cry. I cry for Jeff, I cry for Ethan and I cry for me. I will have to live with what I’ve done for the rest of my life, no matter how short or long that will be. I cry myself to sleep.


It was necessary for my survival. I had to survive, somehow. I’m sorry Ethan. I’m sorry, Jeff. I had to survive.

Author's Note

Originally written 5/12/2017
Reworked 2/15/2021