Tonight the World Dies

The sunlight dapples the forest floor as I kneel beside the small creek, uncapping my water bottle and filling it to the brim. I’ll boil it later, once the sun has set. For now, while I still have daylight, I glance around out of habit, making sure that I am well and truly alone before tugging my long-sleeved shirt over my head. The duct tape wrapped around my sleeves makes the process a little more difficult, but once it’s off, I dunk the entire garment in the creek and scrub. The creek water turns murky as layers of mud, grime, sweat, and blood are washed away downstream. I hadn’t been fortunate enough to find a replacement, and so this shirt is all I have. I get a small whiff of myself and cringe, thinking I could do with a good scrubbing as well, but I know it’s getting late. I ring the shirt of as much moisture as I can before throwing it back on. The wet fabric clings to me uncomfortably as I toss my water bottle into my pack and rise.

I head back towards the church, pausing a moment to fire a silenced shot at a rabbit scurrying across my path. It skids in the leaves, the bullet creating a small hole in its head. I carry it by its back legs and continue on. Rabbits don’t provide much meat, but the stores in the church are getting low. I break away from the trees outside the church and pause. Someone stands outside the church, a dark figure with a crossbow in his hands. He walks the length of the church and turns, freezes when his eyes lock on me. In defense I hold up my hands, and I hear him call for someone inside the church. Shortly, more people flood the front yard of the church, and apprehension settles in my gut as I step forward slowly. A man in a priest’s uniform appears, and I narrow my eyes.

“Gone for an hour and you’ve let the rest of the world in?” I ask Gabriel. He has the nerve to look sheepish, while the group crowded around him exchange confused looks. A man with a hell of a beard and bright blue eyes turns towards Gabriel.

“You know her?” His accent is distinctly southern, maybe Georgia or Louisiana. Gabriel nods.

“Candace came to me about a month ago pretty heavily injured. I helped her recover as best as I could, and I offered her sanctuary here,” he explains. More eyes turn to me, and I take a moment to examine each and every one of them, starting with the man with the crossbow.

He’s leering something fierce, and I’m not quite sure if it’s because of me or if that’s just how he always looks. Either way, I level him with my own hard stare before moving on. A young Asian man holds a pretty woman with short brown hair in his arms, almost protectively; they are both watching me intently. A quartet of fierce-looking individuals, led by a mountain of a man with flaming red hair and a serious mustache who narrows his eyes as well. He has a large shotgun in his hands. Two women flank him, one of them looking military. The other just looks lost. A teenaged boy stands just behind the man with the beard, and it doesn’t take long for my mind to make the connection that this is his son. Meanwhile, the man with the beard is glaring terribly at me, his blue eyes blazing with suspicion and distrust.

“This is Rick and his group,” Gabriel tells me, trying to relieve the obvious tension. “I got trapped by the dead and they saved me. I’ve asked them to stay.”

I hum before holding up the rabbit. “I’m going to take care of this.”

I brush by the group, feeling more than seeing them turn like a flock of flamingos to watch me leave. Behind the church I set to dressing the rabbit and frown when I pull even less meat than I was expecting from the bones. As I work my mind flits to the group Gabriel has asked to stay. They’re a rough crowd, dirty, thin, and haggard. No doubt they’ve seen and done some terrible things to survive. Who hasn’t these days? Besides Gabriel, there hasn’t been a single soul I’ve met that hasn’t had to cross his or her own moral lines in the sand to ensure his or her own safety—mine included. The ringleader of the group—Rick, Gabriel said—looks especially wild, about a step above caveman with his wild-eyed look and that insane beard. I admit to myself that he intimidates me just a little more than the rest of the group, even the crossbow-wielder. Despite their group including young women, I know appearances are not always to be trusted. I’ve seen and known women in this new world who are just as cold and heartless as the worst male serial killers.

Women, to me, are more dangerous, and it is for that reason that I am unable to relax while in the presence of this new group, even when we are all gathered inside the church, Gabriel and I off to the side outside their circle. The group, save the man with the crossbow, are laughing and eating the proffered food from our stores, as well as bits of the rabbit I caught. The group almost looks innocent in this setting—joking, smiling, relaxing. But I can’t find it in me to do the same. Gabriel, however, smiles right along with them, as if he’s in on their little jokes.

I scrape what’s left of the beans out of the bottom of the can and chew slowly, allowing my eyes to take in the group. Rick has a baby in his arms, a chubby, wriggling little thing named Judith. I frown. She must have been born at the end of the world, so where is her mother? While the women of the group all seem to take on that role together, none of them stick out to me as her biological mother. I drop my spoon into the can and set it beside me, sitting back against the side of my designated pew, watching. The big man with the mustache, Abraham, is prattling on about some mission to Washington, DC to find a cure to this mess. The man sitting to his left, Eugene, rocks a killer mullet and a cool, arrogant expression. I bite back a scoff, hardly believing that this man, of all the people left in the world, knows the secret to putting the dead down for good.

Suddenly the hairs on my arms rise and a prickling feeling crawls up the back of my neck. Slowly, I look around until my gaze lands on the man with the crossbow, standing outside the circle by the door. He’s watching me as intently as I’m watching his group, and his stance ekes protectiveness. I can’t see his eyes beneath that dark, greasy mane of his, but I know he catches me watching and turns his head away as the woman with the short grey hair—Carol, I think—walks up to him with two empty jugs of water, and they leave.

He’s another of this ragtag group that I find myself wary of. A darkness shrouds him, and he did not partake in his group’s merriment. I find myself watching the door for their return, but as night falls, he and the woman do not return.

A body settles beside me, and I glance over at Rick. He is watching me, his bright blue eyes stark against the tan on his face and that massive, wild beard. He rests his elbows on his bent knees and examines me.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” he asks, his voice rough and southern.

“Prefer to watch,” I mutter, my gaze sweeping the now sleeping bodies. I purse my lips before speaking again. “Your people took off. You just let everyone wander off like that?”

To my surprise, Rick smirks, though his eyes are far from amused. “Daryl and Carol can handle themselves. They’ve been through too much—we all have.”

“Your beard kind of told me that,” I reply before I can catch myself. Then Rick smiles, chuckling, and his eyes light up. The shade of them is intriguing, to be completely honest. He runs a hand over the coarse hair on his chin.

“It is getting kind of cavemanish,” he agrees. He turns those blue eyes back to me. “You’re not as cold as you make yourself out to be.”

“No offense, Rick, but you ain’t known me but a day. I don’t think you’re in a position to say something like that.” I hope my tone comes off as intimidating and cold, but I don’t think it quite hits its mark.

“Call it a hunch, but I’ve met bad people. And you and Gabriel, you’re not bad people. In the morning, we’re all going to Washington. Might be in your best interest to come with us. I’ve already discussed it with your friend.”

“Gabriel’s not really my friend,” I mutter, but Rick doesn’t seem to hear it.

“Think it over, sleep on it, and let me know in the morning.” With that, he stands up and walks off with his offer hanging between us.