Doug Ward: 2013

Just as I promised earlier. This is the first 3 chapters of my new book "Creator; The True Story of the Zombie Apocalypse" raw and unedited. Ok, a little edited. But for those who can't wait... have fun.

Chapter 1

Henry

After the long battle on Presque Isle we regrouped back at the lake house. The dead still lay where they fell, filling the building with a terrible smell. Luckily, that night, we'd stowed most of our supplies in the Humvee. Unluckily, we left both the military vehicles and Scotts truck back at Fleming’s lab.

Amber sat at the waters edge with Scott. She was still reeling from the loss of Drew and was going to need some time. We all knew what she was going through. It always happened so fast. One moment everything was great, the next, it was over.

Drew and I had recently lost our loved ones but we still didn't know that much about Scott. My guess is that every survivor of this terrible world had suffered a loss in some degree.

I missed my wife. I still thought of Melissa every day. The smell of her hair and the warmth of her embrace were some of the things I would always remember. Mostly, I missed her companionship. She was my best friend. I don't mean it flippantly, like some couples say. She truly knew me. My shortcomings meant nothing to her. We connected on a whole other level.

I could see Dean was lost in his own pain. He'd lost Julie. His eyes had that far away look, betraying that he was lost in thoughts of her.

We needed to get to the vehicles. My eyes strayed to the car covered in dust. "Did we ever find keys for that?" I asked pointing at the car.

"No, but we did ever look around?" Dean confirmed. "I doubt we could find anything now. Not after the battle we had in there."

I hung my head in defeat. Walking to the lab would be dangerous. Riding in some kind of car was much safer than being on foot. Sure, the undead were slow, but zombies don't need to sleep. They can follow you on foot and you'd be trapped wherever you stopped to rest.

Dean stooped and picked up a small rock. He examined its wave worn surface, turning it over with his fingers.

"Maybe we can hot wire the car?" I mussed.

"And where'd you pick that trick up?" Dean said tossing the stone at a nearby tree. "The mean streets of Slippery Rock?"

"I thought maybe..." I stopped short, accepting his answer as him not knowing how. "Maybe we should ask the others."

"The father?" Dean suddenly stated while snapping his fingers.

I looked at him quizzically, prompting him to continue.

"Maybe he has the keys?" Dean said moving toward the trees.

I followed my friend toward the spot where the former owner of the lake house had hung himself. Dean stalked through the woods silently. Always on the alert for some hidden danger. I, on the other hand, snapped every twig in the area. A ninja, I was not.

When we came across the site of the suicide I was amazed at what I saw. The corpse hanging from the noose looked like it did days ago. I would have thought nature’s scavengers would have been busy stripping the dead body of any fleshy parts, but the man looked untouched.

"How are we gonna cut him down?" I asked.

"We're not," my friend said. "We only need his pants."

Dean reached up snagging a handful of pant leg in each fist. He pulled downward but the fit was to snug. The slacks stayed where they were.

"He has to be wearing a belt!" he said in disgust. "Get on your hands and knees."

Confused, I just stood there not knowing if he was serious.

"I need something to stand on so I can undo his pants," he explained. "So get down."

I did as was asked; brushing some leaves and twigs away from where I was going to kneel, my hands in the dirt. I'd just braced myself when I felt one of his feet settle between my shoulder blades.

Using the hanging corpse to steady himself, Dean pushed upward and planted his other foot on my lower back. I could feel my skin shift under his weight, sliding and pulling taut. To say, having him on my back was uncomfortable, was putting it mildly. My arms shaking under the strain, I urged him to hasten his work.

"I'm going as fast as I can!" he said, while grunting with the effort. "I never took off another mans pants before! Everything's backwards."

I stifled a childish laugh as his shifting weight brought a new wave of pain to my lower back. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes as I struggled on.

"Man, he stinks!" Dean reported as I heard the belt buckle jingle free. "I think I'm gonna hurl."

"Wait till you get off of me!" I grunted back.

I was heartened to hear the sound of the zipper sliding downward.

"Holy Crap!" he said as I felt the pants drop onto my back. A wet smack, followed by a horrendous smell, informed me of my folly.

As Dean stepped off of my back I could feel moisture soaking my shirt. I stood carefully, removing the soiled garment from my torso. Holding the feces soaked area out; away from my body I managed to get the reeking t-shirt off without much mess.

"He crapped himself!" Dean stated in revulsion as he slid his stained shirt off in much the same manner.

I dropped the shirt and vomited. The stench was so overpowering that it was nearly an instantaneous response. As if on my cue, Dean emptied his own stomach. Whether it was in a sympathetic response to me, or just the odor, I didn't know.

The soiled trousers must have slid down Deans front because it's stain continued down the front of his pants. After he finished a series of dry heaves he removed his jeans, stripping down to his boxers.

Stepping away, I took a few deep breaths of fresh air, before returning to the dead man's pants. I gingerly fished about his pocket while pinching my nose with my left hand. Nothing.

The other pocket produced the object of our search. My prodding finger slid inside a key ring. I hastily pulled the prize free and stepped away from the mess.

"Bingo!" I announced dangling the jingling mass so my friend could see.

"Awesome," he said reaching for the keys.

At the last moment I pulled them out of his reach. "You'll be back before midnight?"

"Sure," he said reaching again.

I snatched them back again. "With a full tank of gas?"

"Fine," he said offering his open hand, palm up. "You would've made a great dad."

I dropped the keys into his grasp. "Really?"

"Heck no," he said grinning. "You would've really screwed them up. Maybe after years of counseling your kids could live some level of a normal life."

"Thanks," I replied. "Let's go tell the others that we have a new set of wheels."

We walked to the shore, Amber and Scott turning as we neared. I was heartened as a slight grin flashed momentarily on Ambers face.

"So, what have you boys been up to?" she asked coyly.

We both flushed as it dawned on us how it looked, Dean missing his shirt and jeans standing next to me, also shirtless.

"We found the keys for the car," Dean stammered.

A mix of shock and disgust appeared on Ambers face. "Oh my, you guys stink!"

"And we got pooped on by a zombie," I added, none to proudly.

"Gross!" Amber said looking ill. "I'll get some soap."

"I don't want to know," Scott added watching Amber walking back to the house.

A few minutes later, Dean and I were out in the water washing off, soap bubbles spreading out over the water around us.

"Do you think this soap is eco-friendly?" he asked.

I stopped scrubbing and looked at him. "I don't know. Why?"

"I'd hate to ruin the environment," he said looking serious.

I burst out laughing. "Of all the problems in this world I don't think the environment is our biggest concern."

We both broke down laughing. "Seriously," I said. "You think this will cause global warming?"

Dean said something but I didn't hear him. I was preoccupied with my last statement. I wondered what would happen when it got cold. Did the parasite hibernate when it lacked a ready food source? What would it do in the winter?

Zombie’s bodies don't generate heat. They would have no protection from the cold environment. I'd imagine that they would freeze solid.

This might be a road to survival but I needed to test this idea. If we could utilize infrasound we may be able to irradiate the undead while leaving all surviving humans unharmed. We might be able to kill them anywhere they lurked. Not just outside, but inside buildings, basements, and cars, anywhere.

We would be able to wipe out huge populations with ease. But to gain this weapon we'd have to return to Slippery Rock. Something I was not looking forward to doing.

I plunged under water all at once, the soap rinsing from my hair and face in the current. After surfacing I wiped my face dry with my hands. Rivulets of water flowed down my shoulders as I shook it from my hair.

"I'm out of here!" Dean said starting toward shore. I could still see the bruises left from his battle with Platz.

I used my hands as paddles to propel my way in. Smooth rocks underfoot making my feet uncomfortable, I stepped from the lake toward my new clean clothes. That was one of the few things that were actually nice about this apocalyptic world. You never had to wash anything. When your clothes got dirty, you just got new ones. Dirty dishes or car, it was all the same. If something was in the least way used, just replace it.

The remaining population of living humans would never be able to use all of the goods that were left over. Shirts and pants would, at some point, literally rot in the stores where they hung. Food would perish and gasoline would eventually lose enough octane that it would be unable to fire car engines.

The world was on a collision course with the Dark Ages and there was little we could do about it. We needed to rid ourselves of the parasite risen undead or any luxuries we were now enjoying would cease to be.

Few probably understood that the things we were surviving on were about to spoil. Crackers and powdered milk would soon be useless. Even dried fruits were about to become bad to eat.

After only six months the world would become a lot more complicated. The coming months would even become worse, a year in and all ready-made cereals would become useless. Peanut butter and jelly would become rancid and canned fruits would spoil. At this point you'd have to be very careful of any can that is marred or dented in any way. Tomato based can or jar foods would be dicy due to the acidic nature of the preserved food. It may have compromised the seal.

Batteries are good for several years but few foods will last this long. The best being salt, honey, and rice. Maple syrup and sugar will last a lifetime. But mankind will need some sort of protein to survive.

That's where we were really in trouble. We'd witnessed undead eating the flesh of animals. This ran contrary of the parasites life cycle. Possibly they were running out of viable human hosts and trying to jump species.

Native Americans had over hunted saber tooth tigers in America. They did the same with giant cave sloths and wooly mammoths. Maybe the parasite, because the reason it fed was innate, had rendered the human population to near extinction levels. It's urge to procreate overriding it's understanding of conservation thus virtually whipping out it's potential hosts.

This wasn't the only time a newly introduced organism decimated its ecosystem. Environmentalist Rachael Carson warned us of this occurrence. She believed that man began his downfall when he picked up the first seed and deposited it where it didn't belong. Although, I don't believe Rachael Carson ever saw this coming.

The world had been turned upside down by a madman. A mad scientist funded by a cult. Some religious psychos wanted the end of times and Fleming had delivered. They'd brought man to his ruins, ending his superiority on earth.

And to what end, a bible prophesy? I couldn't believe that. The man who created the parasite had to possess the knowledge far beyond religious babble. He was the true evil. He'd used these fanatics as pawns. Spreading them across the globe, he'd instructed these sheep to infect themselves in order to begin the pandemic in many places all at once.

Maybe I couldn't save the world. I had to struggle each and every day just to eek out a meager life. But I could spend my last moments doing something I felt was meaningful. I could find Fleming and make him pay for what he'd done to mankind.

Chapter 2

Dean

Henry became a little melancholy. He tended to get this way when he had too much time to think. I tried to keep him active, but I couldn't always entertain him. He had to have some downtime.

We dressed in the shade of the trees, after which we joined the others at the car. Amber sat on the hood while Scott continued to talk her through her pain. She'd suffered a grave loss.

"What are we gonna do now?" Scott said pulling his hair back into a ponytail.

I looked at my friends. Stopping at each of their faces. Both had suffered for our cause. Each had followed Henry and my beliefs and had contributed to the cause.

"I'll go the rest of the way on my own," Henry explained.

"Bull crap!" I replied.

Henry looked at me. My response was so sudden.

"I'm in this with you all the way," I continued. "Wherever you go, I'm with you."

"So am I," replied Amber. "I want to see the end to this plague?"

"You don't have to," Hank started.

There was silence for a moment. "What else have we got to do?" Scott chimed in. "It's not like we have a holiday coming up."

A small grin crept across Hank's face. "Thank you," he said graciously. "You guys are the best!"

"There's one thing I have to ask," Scott added. "I have to stop back at the airport. There's something there I need to check on."

"Agreed!" Amber said a little too enthusiastically. "We'll stop there after we get the Humvee."

Henry tossed the keys to Amber, "You drive."

She held them up pinched between two fingers. A pained look on her face, "You washed these things, right?"

Hank didn't respond. Instead, he dusted off the passenger seat and plopped onto it. We took his lead and joined him in the tiny sedan. It was cramped compared to what we were used to. I was nearly touching elbows with Scott.

After a couple of tries, Amber coaxed the engine to life. It wasn't running so hot but hopefully it would get us where we needed to go. Dropping the transmission into drive the engine hesitated before evening out.

"Don't try anything fancy. This car's a piece of junk," I warned.

Amber's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "Do you think driving's to hard for a girl Scott?" she challenged.

I was way to smart to take the bait. She was setting me up. The hint of anger in her eyes kept any further comments from my lips.

Our driver steered around a particularly worn looking walker. Its body was so emaciated that it could hardly move. Clothes, gray with dirt, hung from its skeletal form. The creature made a feeble attempt at reaching for us as we drove slowly past. It's jaws working in a chewing motion the whole time.

It was then that I made the connection. All of the dead had lost most of their color. In most of the zombie movies I'd seen the undead stayed looking like regular people. The blue jeans they wore were still blue, and shirts retained their color. Even after several months the films depicted them the same way. Their clothes almost clean yet they sported big red stains where they had been wounded or had drooled after feeding.

In the real world the undead all looked similar. Their filthy clothes matched their gray lifeless skin. Any form of color had vanished with under a thick coating of grime.

As we drove further down the road Amber glanced at Henry. "She reminds me of something I wanted to ask?"

"She?" I said questioning the gender of the walker we'd past.

"She," Amber confirmed. "No man would wear those shoes."

"You noticed her shoes?" I said astonished.

"It's a woman thing," she answered. "Men never notice anything."

Henry shifted in his seat turning in her direction, as if preparing for her query. I could tell he was becoming impatient with having to wait. I braced myself for his next, long-winded explanation.

"Go ahead," he prompted her.

"Why aren't the ghouls covered with flies?" she asked sneaking another quick peek at Hank.

Henry sat there silently. I couldn't believe it. He had no answer. I silently wished Melissa had been here to see this moment.

"I mean, shouldn't they be swarming with bugs?" she added as if to get him started.

His mouth worked for a moment but nothing came out. "I don't know," he admitted slowly almost a whisper.

"Can you say that again?" I goaded from the back seat. "For a minute there it sounded like you said you didn't know something."

"I didn't notice it," he said a little louder.

"I told you men never notice anything," Amber said confirming her earlier statement.

"Wait a minute Amber," I said quickly. " I want to relish this moment."

"There must be something about the dead tissue that carrion eaters have an aversion to. Maybe a scent they emit. I doubt its taste. Most creatures that dine on carrion will eat nearly anything."

"Now you're ruining everything," I said in mock disgust. "You had to come up with an answer."

"It isn't an answer," he explained. "It's more of a guess. The most important thing to the parasite is to spread its unique genetic make-up. To this end, the longer it can keep it's host functional the better its chances. So it would make good sense for Fleming to have built in something to deter natural decomposition."

"Think of it this way," Hank continued. "A body should be dried up and have all flesh eaten away somewhere between twenty to fifty days after death. At that rate the host would have had to bite at least one human to have any chance at continuing life through its young. After the body dies, it also begins to attack itself. Bacteria in the stomach actually start to digest the stomach and surrounding tissue. Since it is attacking itself that adds further complications to the process of keeping a dead host viable."

Scott leaned forward in his seat. "You mean Fleming thought of this."

Hank nodded his head as he answered, "That and more. The man is a genius, a mad genius but a genius none-the-less."

Fleming’s old lab came into view. A lone walker stumbled around near Scott's truck. Speeding up Amber hit him head on. The zombie’s skull smacked off the hood leaving a bloody dent.

"What'd ya do that for?" I asked. "Now I have at call my insurance agent and they'll never fix it right."

"It's not like we're ever going to use this car again," she said. "Besides, we're almost out of bullets."

She was right. We'd used up nearly all of our ammunition during our assault on New Eden. Luckily we had a ton stashed in the truck and Humvee. We also had weapons, including a top of the line sniper rifle and two M60's with mounts. We had a virtual armory.

It only took moments to transfer our stuff from the car to the Humvee. There wasn't much to move. Most of our goods were already in the vehicles. What we'd brought in the car was the few things we had left over from the battle in the battle.

We passed out new weapons. AR 15's with several clips each. Standing in the parking lot we filled the magazines. Scott and I gave abbreviated instructions on how to load and fire the new weapons. Neither Hank nor Amber had fired anything like one of these.

The others rode in the truck while I drove Hank. I had to hand it to Scott. The area held very few walkers. He'd done an amazing job clearing them out. I could almost see ball bearings gathered in clusters along the side of the road. Who would have thought of dropping ball bearings from a plane? The idea was brilliant.

As we left the populated area I relaxed. We drove around the few walkers we saw but they were virtually nonexistent out here. A few minutes later and the airport came into view. There were a few zombies ambling about inside the fence but Scott treated it like they were of no concern.

He casually strolled up to the lock and took his time opening the gateway. The dead trapped inside came uncomfortably close before he pulled his weapon and fired on them. Controlled bursts from his automatic weapon blew their heads apart like fresh melons. Black blood and skull fragments arced through the air everywhere he directed his aim. When it was over, the yard was still. The undead neatly killed far away from the building.

Scott returned to his vehicle and drove the truck up to the main building. The gate, he left open. No longer fearing the periodic intrusions from the people at New Eden I guess he had no need to keep the dead inside.

Scott repeated his performance at the front of the building. Slowly unlocking the door he casually unloaded the things we might need during our stay. We had to walk the supplies up to the top of the tower but once there, I understood why he picked this place as a hide out. The view was outstanding. One could see in every direction for at least a mile.

Darkness was falling and we were all exhausted. We had just fought a war and were still on the run. I doubted that anyone on Presque Isle had survived.

We dropped our supplies to the floor and flopped down beside them. Over-tired, we began to talk.

"What should we do now?" Amber asked. We all turned toward Hank for guidance.

Chapter 3

Henry

They were all looking at me. It felt so strange. I'd always thought of Dean as the strong one, the leader. I never would have guessed anyone would want to follow me.

"We need a plan for this one," I informed them. "We have two objectives. The first is to secure the infrasound device from my friend’s lab in Slippery Rock. The second is to make Fleming pay for creating this abomination that has nearly wiped out the human race. If anyone doesn't want to be a part of this plan, this is the time to say so."

A moment of silence followed. We all exchanged looks showing concern.

"Let's get on with it!" Dean said abruptly. "It's not like this is Mission Impossible."

"Mission what?" I asked.

"Impossible," he responded. "It was a movie,"

"TV show," Scott corrected.

"Whatever!" Dean said clearly agitated. "We're all in. What else do we have to do? This is the only avenue with a clear purpose. There's no other reason to live at this point. If we can't save the world what purpose is there to living on it?"

Silence, once again, followed. "The man has a point," Amber said in agreement. Why else should we continue on?"

I waited for Scott. I needed his accent before we could move forward. He absently glanced at the doorway before answering. "I'm in!"

I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath. I needed all of my friends for my plans to have any chance of succeeding. They all had special skills I needed.

"Thank you," I told them. "Without each and every one of you I couldn't even attempt what we will do together. We need to secure my friends device so our first stop is Slippery Rock."

"Ugh..." Amber responded.

"I know it's going to dredge up some bad memories, but it has to be done. I believe this is the best way to eradicate the parasite from our planet. If we can kill it here, and now, we stand a chance of returning the world to they way it was."

"How do you want to get there?" Scott asked. "It's a long trip with a lot of Z's along the way."

"I thought you'd take us by plane." I said with a grin.

His smile back gave me my answer. It was set. Scott would get us as close to the university as possible.

I didn't last much longer. I heard Scott saying something but my eyes grew heavy as he spoke. The next thing I knew it was dawn. I'd fallen asleep.

Looking about the room I saw that the guys had all risen as well and were about various tasks. Someone was whistling as they approached. I rose to a sitting position and awaited their arrival.

"There's our little sleepyhead," Scott said as he offered me a cup of coffee. "There's warm eggs and ham waiting for you in the cafeteria."

"Really," I asked full of hope.

"Are you crazy?" He said alarmed. "We're in the middle of an apocalypse here!" We have dried pears and some canned beef."

"Sounds great," I said snuggling back down into my sheets. "Five more minutes."

"No, now!" He said setting my coffee by my face.

The warm curls of steam tickling my nostrils. Temptation of the bean finally brought me from my makeshift bed. The blankets fell from me as I rose, gathering in a pile on the floor.

The others were crowded around one of the air traffic controller's station, looking out the window. Both turned as we approached.

Dean didn't look good. He'd taken two successive beatings at he hands of Platz and the resulting wounds looked painful.

"Ouch, that looks nasty," I said examining his face. "How are you feeling?"

Dean groaned in response.

"He'll be fine," Amber informed me. "He just needs some rest."

"We all need some downtime," I agreed. "How are you holding up?"

Her eyes grew distant for a moment. "Fine," she murmured, masking her true feelings.

I didn't want to press the issue. She would need time to get past a wound this deep. Amber turned and looked back out the window so I left her side, giving her space.

We spent the next few nights there. Scott warned us that he had a nocturnal visitor but we didn't catch the tiniest glimpse of her. He disappeared early every evening, depositing food for her. Every morning he would check and return with some small token. He placed these gifts on display about the room.

After three days Dean looked much better. The swelling had subsided and he moved with much more ease.

"We need to plan our return to Slippery Rock," I said.

Amber looked at me in concern. "It's too soon," she protested, indicating Dean with a nod of her head.

"No, we need to keep moving," he responded. "And I'm fine thank you."

Her hand moved to her mouth as if to hide her embarrassment. Amber had assumed he wouldn't notice her gesture.

Turning to face her full on he repeated, "I'm fine."

Amber visibly relaxed at his words. I understood her concern but I agreed with Dean. We needed to keep moving.

The map had indicated that Fleming had a base on South Bass Island at Put-in-Bay. It didn't say anything about how long he would be there. I was just assuming that he would pick this place to ride out the apocalypse. Surrounded by water he would only need a source of food and maybe power to be able to survive for a long time.

We already knew that the undead didn't last forever. At some point they would dry up and become a husk. I assumed that eventually the husk would crumble into dust, returning to the earth like natural beings eventually did.

I was going to have to accept that these creatures, although human engineered, were now a part of the natural world. Most of the stripped bass caught in today's lakes were hybrids. The hand of man, not nature, created them. These parasites were no different. They may have been genetically altered, but were now existed in the world as a species, a life form that was causing the extinction of most others.

I imagined the world of the future. Life would have to start over. Creatures living in the sea would, after millions of years, crawl from the water and occupy the earth. Mans taint would be cleansed from dry land and a new world would be born once again from the surf.

A new earth, but what lasting legacy of mans arrogance would remain. Antibiotic laden waterways and garbage filled mines would add new dangers to a terrain, which we once evolved in.

Could there evolve a new species that would use tools? Would the new masters of earth have the ability to reason? If so, I hopped they would be more judicious with their powers than we were. Caring more for the betterment of their kind rather than greed. Understanding science instead of creating and propagating myths, and using logic over belief. Need over greed.

"Hank?" Dean shook my shoulder gently. "Hank! We brought the atlas."

It took me a moment to transition from my deep thoughts to the real world. The map to Put-in-Bay, I'd carelessly let fly overboard as we left Presque Isle. It was a simple sketch so it wouldn't have been of much use.

I joined my three friends around the book. They had it turned to the Western Pennsylvania section and were tracing lines between Slippery Rock and our present position with their fingers. They seemed fixated on the distance and the danger between.

"Route 79 has some abandoned cars but it's reasonably passable," Scott said in a confident voice. "We won't have any trouble till we take the ramp to Slippery Rock."

"We're not all going," I interrupted. The group looked up, faces frozen in shock. "Scott, can you land on 79?"

There was a distinct moment of silence. "Sure," he stammered. "Why?"

"You're going to drop me off at the Slippery Rock exit and I'll hoof it in from there," I explained.

"Seriously?" Amber questioned.

"No!" Dean interrupted. "You're not going alone."

I looked at his face. His eyes shone with determination. "Are you sure?" I asked.

"I'm fine," he assured me. "Besides, we've gone this far together. We might as well go the whole way."

I could feel my cheeks flush as a smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. My friend was going to stand at my side. This is something I'd heard people say in the old world but it wasn't the same. In this world not having someone stand with you could mean a horrible death, or worse, an undead life seeking human flesh.

I couldn't think about it. I had a true friend, a friend that made the ones in the old world look sad. He was pinning his life to mine. Gambling his very existence on the belief that I was right.

"Thanks," was all I could say.

Dean grinned at me and turned back to the map. It warmed my heart knowing that he was on my side. Inwardly, I hoped I wasn't leading him to his death.

We spent much of the day pouring over the road atlas. We discussed a few different ways of approaching the college but the drop on 79 seemed to be our best option. It was safest for Scott and the plane, but would leave Dean and I a modest walk to the campus. Although our little hike would be taxing, I felt it would give us the chance to gradually access the level of danger we were walking into. Although the others wanted to go with us, Dean and I felt that the fewer entering the area the better.

It was agreed that Amber would stay back to be joined by Scott after he dropped us off. Hey would then wait for us to return with the infrasound device.

That night we spoke sparingly of the trip. Mostly, we remembered the world the way it was. Speaking of the things we missed and things we were happy without.

"Taxes!" I said.

Everyone nodded at the mention of the dreaded duty.

"Family picnics," Dean offered up.

I nodded emphatically at that. Family gatherings had always been a strain on me. To say, I was socially awkward, was being kind.

"High heels," Amber stated. We all turned in her direction. She looked at each of our shocked faces. Meeting each our eyes for a brief moment before moving on.

"Seriously?" Scott said.

"I don't know," Dean challenged. "I miss them too."

His acknowledgement was met by three sets of eyes. "I meant on girls. They looked great on women."

"Sure," Scott acknowledged. "I never thought you meant on yourself."

"I really didn't!" he said back peddling.

"Whatever," I said trying to move on. "Pantyhose."

All eyes went to Dean. I took him a moment, but when he caught on he stood defiantly.

"There's no way I'd..." He started.

"I'm going out for some fresh air," I informed the group while cutting him off.

"I'd never..." I heard him say as I walked down the stairs. His protests muffled as I descended to the first floor.

I thought I saw some motion out of the corner of my eye but when I focused on that spot I could see nothing unusual. It was probably just my imagination but I stayed focused on that area, making sure it wasn't one of the undead. After a long pause, I heard the soft patter of footfalls behind me. A hand gently came to rest on my shoulder.

"Are you ok?" Amber asked.

"I'm fine," I lied. Recent events had brought my wife to mind. I hadn't had proper time to grieve the loss of Melissa.

"I wanted to talk to you," she continued. "I didn't know Melissa really well, but I do know she must have loved you. She talked about you all the time."

I didn't know what to say. I'd never thought of how Mel had spoken of me, or even if she'd mentioned me to her friends at all. That was her personal life. Something I had always afforded her. Many of my friends had tried to keep their wives at home but I had encouraged Melissa to have outside interests. I understood that my field of study would lead to a lonely existence, but I wanted her to feel free to experience life. At first she fought my wishes, but as my self-imposed isolation wore on, she understood and began spending time with friends.

"Thank you," I said not knowing what else to say.

Amber joined me as I continued outside. The air was cool. Early evening was falling and the slight chill was a welcome relief. Watching the clouds slowly roll past Amber crowded close leaning against a handrail.

I don't know how it happened but suddenly she was holding me in a tight embrace. Shoulders heaving, her grief flowed fourth in a torrent of sobs. I wrapped my arms around her and let my own pain out. Until that moment I really didn't understand how badly I was hurting.

I don't know how long we stayed entwined, comforting each other, but we finally parted. Leaning once again against the rail. The next few moments were awkward.

"Thanks," she said breaking the silence. "I really needed that."

My eyes still locked on the sky as I responded, "I did too."

A sheepish grin flashed on her face and was just as quickly gone.

"You remind me of my dad," she said trying to explain.

I turned my gaze on her faking a hurt look. "I look that old?"

Her eyes flew open wide as she put both hands up in front of her. "No," she stammered, "That's not what I meant."

"I was just kidding," I said easing her tension. "I am old."

"But, I meant I look at you like a comforting father figure," she continued to try to explain.

I grabbed her hands and lowered them to her side. "So, your vision of a father figure is someone who kills zombies."

"I should have sought comfort from Dean," she said sarcastically.

"I'm glad you picked me," I soothed. I didn't know how much pain I was holding pent up inside. "I really do feel better."

"That's the thing with men," she explained. "You guys keep everything bottled up inside. If you would just give in to your emotions occasionally, it really helps."

"You're right," I agreed turning back to the view of the parking lot and beyond.

In the distance we watched a lone figure. It shambled along far outside the fence. As it made it's way I wondered if there was any humanity left in the creature. Was there any small part of the brain that remained human or was it a robot totally controlled by the parasite within?

Doug Ward

Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Ward's Laws #1591

Monday, December 30, 2013

Ward's Laws #1590

Saturday, December 28, 2013

Ward's Laws #1585

Friday, December 27, 2013

Ward's Laws #1584

Thursday, December 26, 2013

Ward's Laws #1582

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Creator has been published!!!

Monday, December 23, 2013

Ward's Laws #1579

Friday, December 20, 2013

Ward's Laws #1575

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Ward's Laws #1571

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Ward's Laws #1569

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Ward's Laws #1566

Ward's Laws #1565

Friday, December 13, 2013

Ward's Laws #1563

Thursday, December 12, 2013

Ward's Laws #1561

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Ward's Laws #1560

Monday, December 9, 2013

Ward's Laws #1556

Sunday, December 8, 2013

Ward's Laws #1553

Saturday, December 7, 2013

The first 3 chapters of "Creator"