Tales of Terror from Survivors (Zombie Apocalypse #3.5) Page 3

  Evan left, and Anders was alone in the barn. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from the blood stain. His mind raced, wondering about Tyler’s condition, Bryan’s fate, and if he could have done something more to prevent this. If he had tried harder to keep Bryan talking earlier, this fight might not have ever taken place, and both boys would be okay right now. But now, Tyler was seriously injured and Bryan was locked away in seclusion waiting for a group of strangers to decide what to do with him.

  Anders turned and exited the barn, closing the door behind him and refusing to look back as he made his way to the meeting. Any meeting was held up near the house, in the front yard where they could get light from the front porch and anyone taking their turn at speaking could take center stage on the porch. He took his time making his way up to the house, and was unsurprised to find the meeting already underway. He could hear the angry and panicked voices before he could see the speakers, and the area went dead quiet as he reached the mob that had formed in front of the porch.

  He made his way up to the porch, knowing they were going to demand he speak. A barrage of questions awaited him, and he did his best to calm everyone down so he could answer them one at a time to the best of his ability. Finally, the area quieted down again, and a man in the front row spoke up first, his voice deep and carrying over the quiet. “How could something like this happen? What happened? Was it a personal attack?”

  I can’t lie to them, Anders thought sadly. Even if it would protect Bryan—which it won’t—it would destroy the faith they have in me. “I do believe it was personal,” Anders said. When the crowd began shouting again, he put up his hands to quiet them. “Let me finish. As I was walking back from the house, I heard a commotion in the barn. When I arrived, a circle of boys had formed around a fight going on, a fight between Tyler and Bryan. I didn’t see the beginning of the fight, but from the atmosphere and the excitement of the boy’s cheering Tyler on, I knew it wasn’t a mutual fight. It was an act of bullying and perhaps even prejudice.”

  “Prejudice?” the man asked, his voice full of doubt.

  “It’s no secret to anyone that’s ever seen Bryan that he’s one of the people that came back. The boys around him were all what you and I would consider “normal”. I believe they attacked Bryan, and he defended himself once he felt cornered.”

  “So was this an act of a scared boy that had no other weapons to use, or of a boy that’s a real threat to us?” a woman asked, her hands fidgeting nervously. “I’ve seen grown men resort to biting and eye gouging in fights in my years, but from what I heard, this boy licked his fingers clean after the fight.”

  Anders sighed. “Bryan did lick himself after the fight, and unfortunately, it’s not the only time he’s tasted blood.” He took a deep breath, preparing himself to do something he really didn’t want to. “Bryan came to me earlier in the day and admitted that he found a rabbit in the woods and tasted its blood…and enjoyed it.” The crowd flew into an outraged panic, and this time they refused to calm down when Anders tried to silence them.

  “You knew he was a danger and didn’t tell anyone!” someone accused.

  “Why was he allowed to roam the community freely after admitting to being an unholy monster?” another asked.

  “He should have been locked away so something like this never happened!”

  Others nodded in agreement, but Anders finally got a chance to speak, interrupting the next claim. “It hadn’t even been an hour since leaving his appointment with me,” Anders said, trying to get them to understand. “After failing to get him to stay and open up more, I went up to the house and asked Evan what we should do. The fight took place before we could call a meeting to discuss our options. There was simply no time for me act.” His explanation eased some of the angry people, but not all of them.

  “What options?” a man shouted, pushing his way to the front of the crowd. “He’s a little monster and we need to put him down!”

  Anders narrowed his eyes, committing the man’s face to memory. “You’re advocating the murder of a child.”

  “I don’t give a shit how old he is! He attacked one of our own, and we need to do something about it. What else can we do? Let him loose on the world so he can hurt more people? I don’t think so! He needs to be put down, and mark my words. Someone will do it, even if you won’t.”

  “I’m gonna remember you said that,” Anders said, his voice taking on a threatening edge to it. “And if anything happens to Bryan, you’ll be the first person I come looking for.” The man stepped to the porch, his face inches from Anders’ as he tried to intimidate him. He may have been about the same height, but he was thin and lanky, whereas Anders was not. If this man wanted a fight, Anders knew it wouldn’t be much of one. Thankfully for this man, Anders had never been one for violence and preferred to solve his problems with his words, not his fists. He hoped his words would make the man think twice about starting anything.

  A woman spoke up, breaking the tension between Anders and the man. “I agree that executing him is out of the question,” she began, “but what options does that leave us with? I’m not comfortable with letting him go free after such a vicious attack, even if it was in defense. What if he snaps again and hurts someone even worse? It’s not like we can lock him up in jail for assault.”

  “I know, and that leaves us in a bad spot. We don’t have a lot of options, but we’re a civilized group and we have to remember that. No resorting to extremes,” he said, glancing at the man who had backed down from the porch. He had the proper shame to look away, but Anders knew he was still violently angry. I’ll have to keep a mental list of everyone speaking in favor of hurting Bryan. This eye for an eye mentality is only going to spread. “Evan thinks we should banish Bryan from the community. We could give him some provisions and a chance, but I consider that to be a death sentence as much as killing him ourselves.”

  “It’s not as dangerous out there as it used to be,” someone argued from the back. “He’d probably be fine. And he’d be far from here, where we wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.”

  “Yeah, and he’d be someone else’s problem,” a woman said, sneering. “He’d just hurt someone there, and it’d be our fault for giving him that opportunity.”

  “He may never hurt anyone again,” Anders pointed out, but his words fell on deaf ears. The crowd began shouting, at him and at one another as they fought to reach a decision. He watched, feeling helpless as everyone fought amongst themselves, not solving anything. His thoughts turned to Bryan, locked away in some room with nobody to comfort him. He wondered how he was holding up after calming down enough to realize what happened.

  A woman stepped onto the porch, and Anders’ recognized Bryan’s mother. Her eyes were red and puffy and she held a handkerchief in her hands. She spoke, her voice weak and hoarse, and the crowd quieted enough to hear what she had to say. “Bryan’s always been a good boy. He’s never been in a fight in his life, and I know he was only defending himself. He was scared, surrounded by other boys cheering on the older boy trying to beat him. I know it’s not an excuse for what he did, and I know I can’t pretend he doesn’t have problems, but he’s just a child. He needs help, and I think Anders can help him if given the chance. He’s trying his hardest to help hold this community together, and if anyone can help Bryan, it’s him. Bryan already opened up to him once, seeking help before he hurt anyone. He wants to be helped. All he needs is a chance.”

  Anders was touched by the woman’s confidence in him and his abilities, but he wondered if she had any idea what she was talking about. Some people just honestly couldn’t be helped, no matter how badly they wanted to be “fixed”. He knew that after reading about treatment for pedophiles. Even the most regretful ones would never be able to rid themselves of their urges and would most likely re-offend when given the chance. He wasn’t sure if Bryan could be helped, but even if he could, Anders was worried it was well beyond his skills.

  The fight continued when B
ryan’s mother finished her speech, and Anders began to lose hope that things were going to have a peaceful resolution. He wasn’t sure how things were going to turn out, but right now, he had an overwhelming urge to find Bryan and offer the boy his unwavering support. God knew he would need it in a time like this. As the fight raged on, Anders turned his back on it all and disappeared, heading to one of the recently built buildings on Evan’s property, where he was sure to find Bryan. He was surprised to find the doorway unblocked when he knew from whispers around the community that Evan had found someone to agree to watch over him until the meeting was at least over.

  His hand on the doorknob, Anders felt a stab of fear pierce him. Something was not right. It was far too quiet. He had expected to hear crying or even screaming, not this dead silence that was so penetrating Anders could hear his own heart pounding in his ears. His hand moved of its own accord, twisting the knob until the door creaked open. What little light the evening had left to offer flooded into the darkened room, and Anders found the bed empty, the table overturned, and Bryan’s body lying on the floor.

  Blood splattered all four walls and the furniture, and Anders noticed Bryan’s arms had been slashed in several places, obvious signs of trying to defend himself to no avail. Someone had chased the boy around the room, hacking at him during a prolonged attack. It was the only explanation for the blood spread around the room and the defensive wounds on his body. He knelt beside Bryan, his fingers going to his wrist to find a pulse. He was unsurprised when he couldn’t find one, since Bryan’s throat had been slit and his chest was drenched in blood. It pooled around his head and seeped between the floorboards as it spread.

  Anders blinked, surprised to find tears dripping down his cheeks. He wiped them away and took in a ragged breath, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of who had done it. He was surprised to find someone standing in the open doorway, and it only took a second to recognize Tyler’s older brother. His shirt and face were splattered with blood, and he still held the knife in his hands. He had a somber expression on his face as he stared down at Bryan’s lifeless body. “It had to be done.”

  Anders’ hands clenched and he got to his feet slowly, feeling more rage than ever before. “Why?”

  “I was protecting Tyler; it’s what big brothers do. He attacked my brother and he needed to be punished. I don’t regret it,” he said, his eyes flitting from Bryan’s lifeless body to finally meet Anders’.

  “You’ll be kicked out of the community for this,” Anders said, struggling to keep his composure.

  Tyler’s brother shrugged. “I figured. Small price to pay to keep my brother and his friends safe from a monster. Like I said, I don’t regret my actions.”

  “Sounds like you’re on your way to becoming a monster yourself,” Anders replied in the clinical way he had nearly perfected. “And that’s coming from a psychiatrist.”

  “The difference between me and Bryan is that I’ll never hurt anyone again—I have no need to now that he’s gone. But he was a ticking time bomb and he would have killed someone eventually.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do. And so do you. No amount of therapy could have cured what was wrong with him. It took some convincing, but the guy guarding him agreed with me, and so will the others. You’ll see.”

  Anders turned his back on Tyler’s brother, giving his full attention to Bryan’s body. He wished he could tell his mother he hadn’t suffered, but the defensive wounds were numerous, and he would have felt every single one of them until he finally bled to death from the cut to his throat. He had suffered, scared and alone, before the end.

  “Can I ask you something?” Tyler’s brother asked, his voice sounding something other than cold for the first time. “Tyler and my mom aren’t going to be forced out, are they? They had nothing to do with this, I swear.”

  “That’s what you’re worried about? That we’ll force your mother and brother out for a crime they didn’t commit? Not that you murdered a child?” He remained silent, and Anders glanced at him. “No,” he said finally. “I won’t let them be kicked out with you. You say they had no part in this, and I believe you. But you’ll be on your own with nowhere to go and nobody to rely on.”

  “I’m fine with that, as long as Tyler is okay.” Anders heard footsteps and turned to find the young man leaving. “I’m going to find my brother; I want him to hear this from me, not anyone else. Otherwise I might not get to tell him goodbye.”

  He disappeared without another word, leaving Anders alone with Bryan’s body, wondering if there was anything he could have done differently. He didn’t know how much time passed as he knelt beside Bryan’s body, but eventually Bryan’s mother found them, and her endless screams brought more people running. Time passed by in a blur as accusations flew and others made no attempt to hide their relief. Before he knew it, Anders found himself sitting in Mary’s kitchen, staring down at a steaming mug of hot chocolate that he couldn’t bring himself to touch. His mind went back to the last time he’d had a mug of hot chocolate—the night Daisy had been killed. He and Evan sat together in silence while Mary watched from the kitchen where she leaned, her eyes dark with worry.

  “Has anything been decided?”

  “The boy is leaving in the morning. He’s with his family now. They’re begging to let him stay, and there are some who agree he should be given a second chance, but most want him gone just as they wanted Bryan gone.”

  Anders glanced up, his eyes narrowing to slits. “There are people who want him to get a second chance? Like they were willing to give to Bryan?”

  “I’m sorry, Anders. I know it doesn’t seem fair, but there are a lot of people who are relieved Bryan isn’t their problem anymore, and a lot of people who couldn’t say they wouldn’t have done the same thing if it had been their son or brother that was attacked. At least the boy is leaving. It’s not justice, but it’s something.”

  “There is no justice in this situation. Not for Tyler, not for Bryan, and not for Tyler’s brother. Only losers. Two women lost their sons, a boy lost his life, another lost his brother. Everyone loses in some way.” Anders gripped the mug in his hands just to keep them from shaking. “I won’t let anything like this happen ever again. I swear it. Nobody else will ever go without my help. It doesn’t matter what they’ve done, I’ll never judge or cast blame. Even others like Bryan. Everyone is deserving of my time.”

  “It’s a noble thought,” Evan said. “You’ve already made a huge difference in these people, even if you don’t realize it. You’re changing people’s lives for the better, and I know you’ll continue to help as long as you can.”

  “For Bryan,” Anders said, closing his eyes. I promise you, Bryan. I won’t let anyone else suffer like you did…

  The End.

  Before: Carla

  Carla sat in her darkened living room, listening to the sound of her children breathing softly on the floor beside her. Just four and six years old, her little boys were unable to understand the horrors going on in the world outside their home, and they remained blissfully unaware of the danger they were in. She had hoped the army would pull through for the people, but she had given up that hope in the last few days. Ever since her husband had ventured out for supplies and hadn’t returned, Carla had known the situation was more dangerous than she had first realized.

  And now, she was sitting alone on her living room floor, her arms wrapped around her children as they cuddled close to her. Tears streamed down her face as she watched them, stroking the hair back from their faces in the way she knew they hated. As they continued to sleep, they looked so sweet, so peaceful, just like the little angels she had always called them. As she watched them, she prayed that someday the two of them could forgive her for what she had done.

  And as she waited, their breathing began to slow. As the minutes wore on, their chests eventually stopped rising and falling, and they were still. Carla burst into tears, pulling them closer to her one last time and pla
nting a tender, loving kiss on both of their foreheads. The pill bottle fell from her pocket, now empty and of no more use. She stared down at it, her vision blurred from the tears that she had refused to shed when they might have seen. They had needed her to be strong, but with Chris gone, she knew it was only a matter of time before they were taken from her as well.

  Its better this way, she thought, sobbing as her chest tightened with shame. I spared my angels the same fate as their father. They’ll never have to know that pain. I’m a good mother.

  Carla picked up the empty pill bottle and stared wistfully at it. How she longed to be able to fall asleep beside her children, never again having to wake up and face the horrors of the outside world. But there hadn’t been enough pills left in the bottle for her to take the easy way out. Even though she feared what would come next, she made the same decision she had made several times throughout her life—to put her children’s needs above her own. They got to fall asleep for good all warm and secure in their mother’s loving embrace, while she would face her end some other way.

  She had never considered herself a particularly brave woman, but she had surprised even herself when she found the strength to put her children first, even in a situation like this. She hoped her children had never doubted her love for them, even in the end.

  She looked to the window. The sun was starting to rise, meaning it was day five without Chris. She had no more food, no more water, and she didn’t even have a gun. Chris had taken their only weapon on his trips for supplies, and without him and his gun here now, she had no idea what to do. Did she head into the kitchen and find a knife to slowly end her own life? Or did she find an electrical cord and fashion a noose of some kind?

  Chris had undoubtedly met his fate at the hands of the undead roaming the streets in hordes. Perhaps it would be fitting for her to meet the same end. He had done everything he could to keep his family safe and had suffered immensely for it. It seemed only fair that she suffer even more than she already was. Her husband had been taken unfairly from her, and now she had lost her babies. Her perfect fairy tale life had come unraveled, and this would be the perfect ending to such an unfortunate tale.