The Lost Gods (14 page)

The sun was ascending to its zenith as Jesse entered Eureka. On his left was a car dealership advertising last year's models for all eternity. Those sleek and delicate cars did not fit the needs of a post-apocalyptic nomad. A few hundred yards ahead on his right was a large d
epartment store. Jesse smiled. He was happy that he would not need to go into another dead town and again witness the leavings of the scourge.

He stepped off the highway and headed into the large parking lot. A few
abandoned cars sat decaying and gathering dirt and leaves like relics of a bygone era. Jesse spotted a thin frame ambling near the storefront. The sun was in his eyes and he could not focus on the creature. He readied his weapons. He lost sight of it, so Jesse hollered. It turned toward him, slow and steady. That was all the information he needed. He cocked his elbows and held his weapons up in a boxer's stance: the hammer pointing up, the screwdriver down. It moved at a lethargic pace like a fat kid swimming in molasses. Its arms were hanging at its sides and its mouth gaping. It stared at Jesse with soupy eyes, but it only shifted and swayed like a tree in a gentle breeze. Jesse got within an arm's reach. The creature's head tilted back.

Confused, Jesse circ
led around the creature. It followed him with its eyes at first, but when he exited its line of sight, the creature turned its neck at a turtle's pace. It took several seconds for it to turn its head a few inches. Jesse waited behind its left shoulder until the creature was able to make eye contact again. He saw its hands twitch. It lifted its arms only an inch before its muscles failed and its spindly limbs went slack. It slid a lame foot forward and leaned close to Jesse.

He drove his screwdriver into the space between the creature's right eye and the bridge of its nose. The cre
ature collapsed in a tangled heap of emaciated limbs. Jesse pulled out the screwdriver and cleaned it off with his jacket sleeve.

All manner of debris
lay cluttered in front of the busted automatic doors of the supermarket. It was clear that someone failed to barricade the entrance and hole-up inside. Jesse crouched and worked through the debris. He checked both sides of the entrance before he rose to a normal posture.

The store was dark. The fluorescent lights that used to give the store a bright and welcoming appearance had sucked out the last bits of power months ago. Jesse pulled out his flashlight and clicked it on. A white light shot across the cash registers
: their drawers still filled with useless paper money and cumbersome change. Jesse remembered a cold night when he and Adam had burned thousands of dollars to keep warm. His father had argued against a similar idea months prior. He had objected, stating that, ‘Everything would be OK again soon,’ and, ‘Never bet against the American dollar.’ Jesse had sat smiling in front of the fire taking some pleasure in the fact that he would never have to pay another student loan bill or give his landlord another huge chunk of his monthly income. He shook away the memory.

Jesse felt a mixture of sadness and amusement at the items in the store: magazines decrying the immorality and lavish lifestyles of the now-probably-dead Holl
ywood stars, the TV guide explaining the programming of nearly a thousand extinct channels, low-calorie breath mints, lawn mowers, GPS systems, video games, 3D LCD televisions half the size of a normal wall, exercise balls for toning the core, and a hundred other things that he and the other remaining humans had no use for any longer. Jesse searched the shelves and grabbed a few packs of watch batteries, floss, and what little food he could find. He found clothes that fit. He peeled off his rancid attire and put on a new shirt, pants, socks, and a jacket. After months of reeking like a rotten fish market, he now smelled like a run-of-the-mill homeless person: a drastic improvement. He packed away his new supplies in his hiking pack and headed for the beverages section. On the highest shelf, he found a single jug of charcoal-filtered vodka.

“Wow, the good stuff,” he said with a sarcastic tone. On the
label, it said World's Finest Vodka. “But, they only gave themselves three stars.”

He almost dropped the vodka when he saw a flicker of movement in one of the security mirrors. He backed up against the empty shelves and listened. The creature turned into Jesse's aisle and staggered forward at a fast gait. Jesse waited for creature to near him and delivered a powerful kick to its abdomen. It buckled over and fell into a refrigerator door, breaking the thin pane of glass. Jesse closed in ready to destroy the hapless creature. Several pops echoed and a putrescent stench filled the air. Curdled milk and watery yogurt spilled out of the broken containers as the creature squirmed around tr
ying to get back to its feet. Jesse began to wretch and backpedaled. He hunched over and jogged away from the awful stench. The creature rose, dotted with rotten white lumps and smeared in yellowish goo. Jesse covered his mouth and swung his hammer at its temple. The strike landed flush with a crack, and the vile thing fell onto the slick floor.

Jesse checked the sporting goods aisle. The shelves were empty of anything useful. He noticed several T-Ball kits and a wave of sadness struck him. Are there any children left? Is there a future? He shook the thoughts away and kept searching.

Looters had emptied the store with few exceptions. The locks on the plexiglass case housing guns hung broken. All the knives, watches, flashlights, bats, golf clubs, axes, and anything with a sharp point had been taken and likely used to combat the hordes of reanimates.

Jesse exited the store. The harsh glare of the sun forced him to squint. He scanned the parking lot again. No new figures haunted about the cars and trucks. Not wanting to venture further into unknown territory, Jesse crossed the parking lot again and headed south on the highway. As he walked, he felt the immensity of America and the world. He did not feel so alone in Washin
gton because of his proximity to Adam, and also the hope that his countrymen had fared better in the war with the undead. Now that he was hundreds of miles south of his small hometown, he was fully coming to terms with the situation. The humans had lost, and even the animals and reanimates were scarce at this point — or so it seemed to Jesse.

Those strange castle dwellers wanted nothing to do with him. He was alone with little more than a vision of a strange woman to keep him company. Is she even real? He did not know the answer, but he knew the way to find out. His long strides slowed to a stop. Jesse stood in the middle of the empty highway. Ahead, the wide, black strip of asphalt stretched beyond the end of sight. Tears came and he did not try to fight them. There was no one left to impress. There was no need to posture and appear
manly. Turbulent emotions overcame him, and he doubted the whole journey. He questioned his actions, and cursed his inability to save Adam. Jesse let his pack drop on the ground and he dropped down on the highway. He hammered his fist onto the asphalt and let out his pain.

Jesse envied Moses, and the prophets and characters of the Hebrew Bible, for in their times of doubt and co
nflict, messages from heaven were forthcoming. No clear messages came to Jesse: just the demands of a mysterious woman and the threats of another.

What if I make it all the way to San Diego and she's not there? What if I'm crazy and this is just delaying the inevitable? What if she is there and it doesn't matter? What if... what's the fucking point?

His mind swirled in a fury. He carried on a monologue that no one heard until the afternoon light faded to dusk. The darkening sky forced him to get up off the asphalt. No matter how seasoned a survivalist he was, the night was full of dangers. Jesse stood and shouldered his pack, not because he had answered his questions and not because he was sure of his quest and the way forward. He carried on because it was what he had to do. In his mind, there was no other option. His nature compelled him forward even in times of doubt. That was why she chose him.

He had feared the dark, the unknown, since he was a child. When he walked at night, men that were not there stalked him. They hid in his peripheral vision. Witches and crones waited behind closed doors and in mirrors. Monsters hid in closets, under beds, and outside wi
ndows. Now that the world was full of real monsters and death, Jesse's fear of the dark was an asset. It put him on edge, and it made him see possibilities in the night. What's behind that tree? What was that noise? The child in him, the fear in him, always had an answer to those questions: danger. Danger is behind that tree and death made that noise.

Jesse would be afraid wherever he was, so it was best to stay mobile and be vigilant. He was a mile from the castle and another from his temporary shelter. His legs ached and blisters
had formed on his heels. A chorus of cruel, nightmarish screams radiated out of the foliage to the east. A shudder of fear and adrenaline coursed through Jesse's body and mind. The flight or fight response tipped immediately toward flight. Jesse tilted into a fast run.

More screams cut through the sound of his heavy footfalls and strained breathing. His clothes rustled as his limbs pumped and swung in a wild rhythm. A slow, strong burn radiated through his thighs and calves. Sp
utum built up in his mouth. Steady, measured breaths gave way to quick, short pants. His abdominal muscles tensed and sweat leaked out of his pores. He kept his vision trained ahead of him. To look back was to die. He ran as fast as he could manage. Another scream flew over his head like a bird carrying bad news.

Jesse slowed for a moment to navigate the ditch and fence bordering the highway. After clearing the fence, Jesse dared to look ov
er his shoulder. He saw the outlines of three things charging down the highway — they were coming for him.

As he turned and tried to sprint, his abdominal mu
scles cramped. He hunched over, clutching his stomach, and hobbled onward to the castle. Another inhuman shriek spurred Jesse's movement, and he stood up as straight as he could and worked forward in a painful, awkward jog. One of the creatures let out a scream as it tripped on the fence and smashed into the ground. Jesse looked back. The creature rose to its feet unfazed and sprinted.

The castle was near. Jesse tried to yell, but his
tired lungs muted his exclamation. He dropped his pack in the grass and threw himself into an uncontrolled sprint. He raised his arms and tried to yell again. Above him was the outline of a man on the wall. Jesse could smell wood smoke. He waved at the man, and as he did, an arrow sunk into the ground in front of him. Jesse slowed his run and picked up the arrow. One of the creatures tackled him. Jesse smashed into the ground face first, and the concussive force rocked him into unconsciousness.

Eight

Creative Anachronism

Jesse snapped out of the darkness. The limp corpse of the creature slid off his back as Jesse rolled over. An arrow had pierced the back of its skull and poked out of its right nostril. Still dazed, Jesse had no time to react as the second creature raked its fingers across his cheek and nose like a feral cat. Instinctively, Jesse locked up with the creature and swept its legs out from under it. He brought it down hard and shifted his weight on top of its chest. The thing squirmed with all its might, but the ground was Jesse's domain. It was helpless in his grasp. Jesse pushed his forearm under its jaw and reached for his screwdriver with his free hand. The creature battered Jesse's face and arm, but he pushed all his weight onto its neck and chest making it impossible for the creature to rise. Shouting echoed out from the portals in the keep. A scream came from behind Jesse. Jesse turned and saw the third creature standing a yard away. Two arrows were sticking out of its torso. A third arrow sailed through the still air and stuck into the creature's shoulder. When the creature charged Jesse, the arrow fell carrying a chunk of bluish flesh. Jesse rolled away from the downed creature and rose on wobbly feet. Jesse fumbled for the screwdriver while trying to maintain his balance, but vertigo overwhelmed him and he fell hard on his ass. The incoming creature hopped over its fallen comrade and charged Jesse. He grabbed the thing under its armpits, tucked and rolled backwards, and brought his knees up to his chest. Jesse used the creature's momentum to launch it over him. It flew through the air and crashed onto the ground a few yards away. Jesse tried to finish the roll and stand up, but he just flopped backwards like a drunk. In his disorientated state, Jesse had rolled into the creature. It squirmed and clutched onto Jesse from the side. Jesse's ears pulsed with pain as the creature screamed. The sounds of the world turned submarine for a time and a loud high-pitched ringing replaced all other noises. All Jesse could manage to do to defend himself in that moment was to grab onto the creature's wrists as it tried to skin his face. It leaned in and bit down on his neck, but the fabric of his jacket was too thick to bite through.

“Push it off you!” a man yelled from nearby. He was yelling loud enough to cut through the din in Jesse's ear. “God damn it! Push it off you!”

Jesse let go of the creature's wrists and shoved the creature off his chest. A sword drove through the creature's jugular notch. No blood flowed out of the wound, but the creature went limp at once. It slumped to the ground with the sword still buried in its neck. Jesse lay there exhausted. A second man, armed with a mace and a shield, rushed over to the other creature as it struggled to its feet. He caught it with an upswing. The creature's legs crumpled and it collapsed. The mace-wielding man bludgeoned the fallen thing until it ceased to twitch.

“It's done,” said the first man. He looked over to his friend. “Stop it already.”

His friend kept swinging away at the lifeless thing.

“Die you fuck!” yelled the second man.

“It's died twice already,” said the first man. “Give it up. You're just making yourself tired.”

The second man stood up, sucking in labored breaths. He exhaled and nodded. He shook the chunks of bluish skin and dark gore off his mace.

The first man held out his hand. Jesse waved it off and sat up.

“Next time you bring some friends, tell us first,” said the first man.

“Yeah,” said the second. “Some beers would have been appreciated too.”

“Not to mention women,” said the first. He pulled his
broadsword out of the creature's neck.

“Don't let Danielle hear you say that,” said the one with the mace.

“I can dream can't I?” said the first. “You going to sit there all night?”

“Sorry,” said Jesse. He rose and dusted himself off. “I'm trying to get my bearings. I was out for a second there.”

“Is that your excuse for your poor performance in that fight?”

Jesse laughed and said, “That and the two mile run prior to getting my ass kicked.”

“Your face is bleeding,” said the second man.

Jesse touched his face. Dark blood mixed with the dirt and grass on his fingers. Adrenaline exited his sy
stem as he stared at his hands. Sharp pain and soreness washed over his body.

“Can I come inside?” asked Jesse.

The first man looked at the second. The second man gave an affirmative shrug and a knowing smile.

“Seeing as how you are mostly harmless,” said the first man, “I think we can accommodate you until you are healed.”

The two laughed for a bit at Jesse's expense. Jesse smiled in embarrassment.

“I appreciate that,” said Jesse. “Thanks for saving my ass.”

“All in a day's work,” said the second man.

The first man extended his right hand, “Nathan, what's your name?”

“Jesse.” He shook Nathan's hand. Nathan’s grip rivaled Jesse’s own. He was half expecting Nathan to engage in one of those petty competitions of strength, but after a short squeeze, Nathan released Jesse's hand.

“His name's Blake,” said Nathan as he gestured with his left hand to the man carrying the mace. “Tim's the guy with the bow up on the wall.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” said Jesse.

“Yeah, same,” said Nathan. “I suppose I owe you an apology for not believing you about those things. Those are definitely different than the usual fare.”

“Yeah,” said Jesse. “They take a little more doin'.”

“For some maybe,” said Nathan. Jesse saw him wink through the sights in his closed helm. Jesse could tell from his strong demeanor and charisma why he had b
ecome the leader of this small group. Nathan commanded respect: he was physically imposing, funny, and direct.

“The lady inside is D
anielle?” asked Jesse tentatively.

“Don't get any ideas though," said Nathan. "She's a
lready got three husbands. That — and she's mean.”

“Perish the thought,” said Jesse. “I think I'm taken anyways.”

“What?” asked Blake.

“It's complicated,” said Jesse. “I'll explain later.”

“I always thought the apocalypse would simplify things, but life finds a way to make a mess of things,” said Blake.

“Right,” said Nath
an. “Are we going to keep standing outside like a bunch of assholes until more monsters come, or should we go inside?”

“Lead the way,” said Jesse and he gestured at the gate.

Nathan walked to the castle’s entrance. Each stone in the wall was unique and carefully placed. The gate was made of stainless steel bolted to a hinge anchored into the wall with concrete. Past the wall was a small, two-story cylindrical keep.

Inside the courtyard, Danielle stood with her right hand resting on the grip of a saber. She was short, stu
rdy, and she was staring daggers at the men as they walked in with Jesse alongside them. Her brown hair was drawn back in a braid that she had tucked into her blouse.

“Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?”

Nathan's demeanor changed from carefree and elevated to irritated. He stopped for a moment.

“We're coming back in,” said Nathan and he gestured toward Jesse. “This is Jesse. He's the one that warned us about those screaming things the other day.”

“I don't give half a shit what he warned us about,” said Danielle. “We don't have enough food for another mouth, especially not one as big as that fucker. He looks like he could eat half a cow.”

“Don't mind me,” said Jesse trying and failing to add a bit of levity. Both Nathan and Danielle looked over at Jesse for a moment. Nathan's expression conveyed the message 'shut the fuck up and let me handle this' and Danielle's glare sent a clear 'go away' vibe. Nathan took off his helmet and the brown coif he had underneath. He looked to be in his mid-thirties and his head was
clean-shaven. His beard was blond and forked. To Jesse, Nathan looked like a bouncer at a club. He had a mush face that said Go ahead and punch me, but if you do, I’m going to take you down.

“Blake, can you help him get those cuts cleaned up?” asked Nathan, although he delivered the question like an order.

“No problem. Come on, Jesse.”

Jesse followed Blake over to a crude bench
carved into a tree trunk. He kept his ear on the conversation between Nathan and Danielle. Tim, the bowmen on the wall, stayed up at his post. Tim looked out the field below. He walked along the wall like a sentry, his bow ready with an arrow nocked.

“He has to go,” said Danielle a little quieter.

“Don't worry about them,” said Blake. He put his hand on Jesse's shoulder.

“They've been arguing about everything since before the shit hit the fan. I'm sure you can only imagine how that's changed now that there are three men in the pi
cture.”

Blake sat Jesse down onto the bench. Blake took off his helmet and revealed a pale, freckled face and a head of short-cropped red hair and green eyes. He was han
dsome, but Jesse could not help but imagine him as the lost Weasley brother. Jesse tried to stop listening to the argument, but he could not block out the highlights.

“You just swing your stupid sword. I'm the one who has to ration all the fuckin' foo
d. You think I like being hated? You think I like being 'the food bitch?' Fuck you, Nathan.”

“Hey man,” Blake said, he snapped his fingers in front of Jesse's face. “Are you paying attention?”

“Sorry,” said Jesse and he focused on Blake's face. “I'm concerned about what they're saying.”

“Don't worry,” said Blake, he patted Jesse on the shoulder. “She always listens to him eventually.”

“Ah.”

“She's a tough woman, but everyone has to give in from time to time. Nathan's got a way about him. She'll come 'round.”

“How have you guys survived here for so long?”

Blake made a grand gesture to their surroundings.

“As you can see, we handle ourselves pretty well.”

“No shit,” said Jesse. “This place looks like it took some time to build though.”

“A couple months of daily work,” said Blake, “but even a half-finished wall is better protection than you'd get out there.”

“Where'd you get all the stones?” asked Jesse.

“People's yards mostly. The stones are primarily machine-cut cobblestones and those landscaping stone rich folks have in their yards. The rest we got out of the ground. We filled in the gaps with quick-dry concrete and mortar. We hauled everything in wheelbarrows from the hardware store.”

“What about all the medieval stuff? It looks legit.”

“We've had all this stuff from before the zombies came. We were—. Well, do you know about Ren Fairs?”

“Yeah, I went to one when I was 14.”

“Well, we knew each other from the SCA, which is kinda like the Ren Faire. Just more serious. You know, geek stuff, but with swords and whatnot.”

“SEA?”

“No, S.C.A., The Society of Creative Anachronism.”

“Creative Anachronism?”

“It's fancy talk for guys and girls that like to play with swords and talk in accents.”

“Ah.”

“We've got our SCA battle gear, which is mostly useless in a real fight since it is all nerfed for the games, but most of us had some real replicas too. It's funny, our whole lives we were training for these games, and now it's just about the most useful skill you can have. I mean we fucking annihilated the regular zombies. We seriously fucked their shit up. Nathan, Tim, Danielle, and I tore through Eureka like it owed us money. We must have stomped like 4,000 zombies. Hell, we didn't really even have any close calls, except from other people, but that's different. After we cleared the town out, we got to talking about making a stable place to stay. Turns out, we aren't as good at farming and such as we are at fighting. It's a pity, that.”

“I wish I could say the same. I had a bludgeon that my friend welded for me, but nothing like that mace you've got there. Adam and I had a hell of a time in Si
lverdale. People were dying all around us, food was scarce, and the weather was shit. The whole thing was a Mongolian Clusterfuck all the way through.”

“He's dead now?”