Colony Z: The Complete Collection (Vols. 1-4) (4 page)

Michael rowed toward the light anxiously. In all the noise and commotion, the entire colony was awakened and wandered down to the shore to see what was going on. The Warriors gathered around the shoreline, yelling for him to bring their boat back and stop trying to be a hero. He looked for his father, but Owen did not come. Owen was too busy licking his own wounds to come.

Undeterred, but without a plan, Michael rowed on, into the pitch black night, the lone fire from the other side serving as his guiding light. Michael traveled through the water for what seemed an eternity. Finally, he could begin to feel the heat from the fire on his hands and face. The beach was within view, but he didn’t like what he saw.

As Michael’s canoe hit shore and he pulled himself onto the beach, he touched America for the first time in almost fifteen years. But the world looked so different.

Dead bodies surrounded him. Gnawed at, dismembered, and dead. The zombies had been here, and the zombies had left. They cared not what destruction they left in their wake. Michael’s heart sank, for he knew that, by the time he had noticed the fire, it had already been too late.

Looking at each dead human being that remained, Michael began to take in faces other than those he had seen for the past eighteen years. None of them looked familiar, none struck a memory. He knew none of these people, and the thought thrilled him so much that he never wanted to go back to the island. There really
were
more survivors.

And in that moment, he truly believed he would not return to the colony.

A woman, probably a mother, lay in the sand below him. He wanted to caress her, tell her everything would be alright. Tell her that her children were alive and well. And yet even this was a lie.

Why he was born into a world where there was no happiness to be found was beyond Michael. He wanted a happy life. He wanted more than the simplicity of waking up and just…being. He wanted meaning. He wanted a purpose. The only purpose he had ever truly had in his life was to get to this beach. And now that he was here, there was nothing. Nothing but more death and destruction.

That’s when Michael caught a glimpse of the flaming red hair several feet from him. And, though he believed every face he saw was one he did not know, he instantly knew
this
face. He recognized that hair, that girl. She was beautiful. Young, maybe eighteen. There was life and color in her cheeks, and a small amount of blood stained her neck.

Michael didn’t realize until the tears dripped from his nose that he was crying at the very sight of her. He ran to her and kneeled down. Her breathing was long and slow, and he knew she had only been knocked out in a struggle. The blood on her neck came from no wound he could see; it was not her own. She had survived by sheer luck. Or maybe, that night, fate was what protected her.

Michael lifted her up and carried her to the canoe, where she lay silently, unaware of the horror that surrounded her. Shaking, he checked to make sure the rest of the bodies were truly bodies and not survivors before getting into the canoe and beginning the row back to the island.

The mission had not been a complete failure. He had saved one girl, and this one was well worth saving. Her beauty overwhelmed him in a way no woman’s had before. He prayed she wouldn’t wake up until he had practiced the hundreds of ways he could tell her what had happened. He did not want the burden, but he knew it was his own to bear.

When he pulled up to the shore of the island, Owen sat waiting for him on the beach. The jeering warriors had gone, and even Aaron and Helen were nowhere to be found.

Michael chose to ignore the man who watched his work. He brought the boat to shore, tied it up, and lifted the girl out of the boat. He walked past his father and carried her to his newly-built cabin, where he lay her down on the bed made of leaves and fabric that was his.

“What do you think you’re going to tell her when she wakes, son?” Owen had followed him inside and was ready to once again face his son.

“I’m not going to tell her anything. First, I’m going to ask her what her name is.”

“Why should that matter?”

“Because everyone has a name, Dad. And I think I’m going to marry this girl. So her name must be very special.”

“You will not marry that girl.”

“And why not?”

“She won’t stay here. You think she won’t double cross you and leave to find her companions?”

“Her companions are dead.”

Silence once again filled the cabin.

“I am very sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t lie, Dad. Of course you aren’t. You don’t care.”

“I care very much about what happened to the companions of that girl, Michael. Because I would expect them to care about us. Just as I hope and pray this girl will care about you when she awakens.”

“…Dad, I did something heroic today. Something brave. I made something of myself today. I found myself a wife…why can you not be proud of me?”

“…I am proud of you son. But there’s…there’s more than that.”

“More than what?”

“When you’ve realized that your son has finally surpassed you in wisdom, a sinking feeling overcomes you. You are a better man than I, Michael. You are pure at heart. You have your mother in you, that’s for sure.”

“Do you mean that, Dad?”

“More than I wish I did.”

When morning came, there was not a person on the island who did not rest around the bedside of the flaming red-headed girl. She had not awoken yet, but the thirty-two people of the colony stood, prepared to greet her and welcome her into their lives. Michael knew she would grieve at the loss of her companions first, and he wished that the others weren’t so close to see her pain, but he knew that they liked the drama. They hadn’t had an addition to the town since that last newborn came around.

Morning passed into afternoon, afternoon passed into evening, and still the girl did not wake. Eventually, the crowd grew restless and wandered off. Night fell, and everyone drifted into an uneasy slumber, afraid they would miss her awakening.

Indeed they did. At about 3am that morning, a full day after the girl’s arrival, she awoke with heavy eyes to see a cabin surrounding her. A boy stood over her anxiously.

A memory panged inside her. She knew the boy.

“Where am I?” She managed.

“What’s your name?”             

“My…my name?”

“Please, ma’am. What’s your name?”

“…I’m Eva.”

“Eva...Eva, you’re safe now. You’re home.”

Weeks later, not a single colonist missed the wedding of Aaron and Helen. There were drinks, laughing, dancing, and beauty all around. Helen was absolutely glowing, and Aaron seemed to be having a great time. Owen did the preaching, because no one else quite knew how to do it like he did.

When Owen said, ‘You may kiss the bride’, he gave Michael a large wink. Michael had always suspected that, on Helen’s wedding day, his father would not let her go. But he did today, much as he may have wanted to fight it.

Michael and Owen had come to the understanding that they had a secret. Michael and Helen never told a soul about what their father had done all those years ago. They decided that the time had come to bury the hatchet and allow their father to be what their father was: a leader. They no longer questioned him.

With Eva on his arm, Michael hugged his sister and kissed her on the cheek.

“I’m so proud of you, Helen.” Michael gave her a wink and a tear slid down her face.

“Thank you.” She said.

Everyone at the wedding gave their respects to Owen’s family and paid perhaps more attention to the beautiful Eva than was necessary. After all, it was Helen’s wedding day. James and Phillip seemed rather put out, and even Balding Eric, who was usually so content, was a grump. But the rest of the colonists enjoyed themselves until the darkness fell and the time came for everyone to go home.

Eva pulled Michael aside before they entered their newly finished cabin that night.

“I want to talk to you about something.”

“Anything.”

“I know you.”

“…what do you  mean, Eva? Of course you know me. I’m your husband.”

“I mean, I’ve seen you before. Don’t you remember? Before this island, before any of this.”

“…I felt as though I’d seen you before when I picked you up on the beach…but I thought it was just a feeling. Eva, I was so young. How could I possibly remember?”

“Because you gave me this.” Eva reached into her dress pocket and pulled out a silver locket that Michael had not seen in more than fifteen years.

And, suddenly, he remembered. And the memory of the girl that he carved into his father’s cabin all those months ago came flooding back. And the pain that came along with it. Tears streamed down Eva’s face.

“Your father murdered mine.”

“That was a lovely wedding, wasn’t it,
Owen?” Hannah said as she tidied up the cabin after the evening festivities.

“Indeed it was, dear.” Owen nodded in amusement at his wife’s pleasure. She was always so happy when her children were moving into the next stage of their lives.

“…say, Owen?”

“Yes, my darling?”

“Do you remember the funeral we had for Judith Marie?”

The pain came so suddenly that even Owen’s strong body could not handle it. He jumped in shock at the mention of his daughter’s name. The fact that his wife, who could not handle the thought of the memory, was bringing it up herself was beyond him. What could she mean by it? Most of the time, the two liked to pretend that she was simply off somewhere, playing a game. Not at home, but would one day come back.

Finally, Owen found it in him to answer her.

“…Of course I do, Hannah. I buried my first born that day.”

“Do you think she would have been proud of how this island has grown since she was buried here? Do you think she would have been happy to have her sister’s wedding over her burial ground?”

“I absolutely do, Hannah. I absolutely do.”

And as the couple tucked the baby in for the night and fell asleep, a shadow was cast over the quiet island. Questions unanswered, but a kind of serenity from the secrecy, remained.

But Owen could not help but think to himself about a secret far more terrible than that which he had told his son. One secret that his wife would never permit him speak of again. And the question that hung most ominously over the night remained fresh in his mind.

What if they all knew the truth…?

To be continued…

Albion
Camp- Mainland- 2018

Judith Marie slept in her father’s arms. Three years had passed since he had last held her this way, the night of the Lost Colony, and he had missed her warmth. But it wasn’t until now that he was again comfortable enough with himself to bring a babe close to him. He felt he couldn’t trust himself, let alone care for a child.

Owen thanked God each day that no other colonists had showed up to the gate of the wall; that no one had decided the time had come to expose him for the scum that he truly was.

A flash from the gun.
The screams. The Alpha male of the companion falling dead to the ground. The tearing of flesh when they found him…

Judith Marie awoke with a startled cry. Owen hadn’t realized that he had stopped rocking her gently, and had begun squeezing her tightly with every horrible memory.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” He whispered, kissing her forehead and shaking the ghosts away. “I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”

He cooed to her softly and, eventually, she fell into a deep sleep once more. But the damage was done. Things would never be quite the same. A part of her had sensed his secret, and she would keep that imprint with her forever.

As Judith Marie was put to bed and Owen fell into a restless sleep, they began to gather. The dumbest, largest of the dead had found himself in the center of a great plot to finally push the company out of the school. Though none of them quite understood the terror of what they were doing, or the complicated nature of the situation, they did understand one simple, instinctive thing.

They were hungry.

If George and Lennie could be part of a zombie tale, then the two dead who now approached the gate to the school would be representative of them. As George: a skinny, almost human-like zombie was cast. He seemed cold, calculated, and was followed by the others. Though he had no complex thought processes, he knew what it was he wanted from the humans inside. The Lennie of the group could not even hope to know this want.

Regardless, the zombie cast in the part of the slow and thick Lennie was both slow and thick himself. He was also the largest zombie any of the surviving humans would ever see. Standing at over 6 feet and two-hundred and fifty pounds of sheer steel muscle, there was no other walking dead like him.

The two companions reached the gate in anticipation of their new cadaver. Lennie let out a war bellow that, to a human, would have sounded a thousand times worse than the most horrible thing they had ever heard. It was the sound of change, the sound of war, and, to the survivors, the sound of death.

They were coming.