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Chapter Two

MAVERICK

T he sun is starting to set behind the trees, and I haven’t heard a peep from Aspen in hours. I checked on her a few hours ago, and her breathing had slowed so much it looked like it had stopped. I replaced the wet cloth with a new one to keep her cool and then left again in search of food for myself. Making only a cold lunch meat sandwich, because I can’t cook to save my damn life, I decide to just head up to bed because there’s nothing to do anyway. God, it’s been so damn boring these days. Aspen is my only source of entertainment, but even she’s been rather dull lately. Opening the bedroom door, the room is bathed in the last remnants of the sun. I notice the bed is empty, which has me walking into the room quickly to look for Aspen. A clatter sounds from the bathroom, but there’s no light inside. Aspen typically lights a few candles when she goes in there in the evenings, but it’s pitch black, which has one of my eyebrows hitching up.

“Aspen? You in there?” I call from the middle of the bedroom, hearing soft footsteps shuffling towards me. Her slender frame peeks around the threshold, blonde hair hiding her face. “Aspen, you okay?” I ask, concern lacing my voice as I take a step closer to her. She doesn’t say anything but makes a weird grunting noise. She takes a stumbling step towards me, dragging her left leg behind her slightly. Her shoulders are dropped, making her arms look like they are different lengths, and her head is tilted to the right awkwardly. “Answer me when I ask you a question!” I yell at her, irritated as fuck that she hasn’t answered any of my questions yet. It almost feels like I’m talking to a brick wall as she continues to ignore me and shuffle closer. She’s only a few feet from me when she steps into the path of the remaining sunlight, and I get a good look at her, which has me stumbling backward a few steps.

“Aspen…” I say raising my hands up in surrender, like that’s going to fucking help. Her eyes have taken on a milky, hazy version of her own. Skin still blotchy, but a sliver hanging off on the right side that’s slightly covered by her hair. She lets out a snarl as her head tilts back up, blood and drool dripping from her chin as she lunges towards me. Scrambling back, I barely make it out the bedroom door before she grabs me. I slam the door in her face, catching one of her fingers in the frame. It slices clean off as I force the door to close. Her chilling screech comes from the other side as her mangled finger lays bloody on the floor at my feet. I hear her running into the door on the other side, trying to break free but not being able to grasp the doorknob.

“Fuck!” I scream out for no one else to hear as I tug at my hair pacing in the hallway. My back hits the wall behind me, and I slide down it until the floor meets my ass, tugging my knees to my chest, laying my arms over them, and tilting my head back against the wall. Aspen continues to screech on the other side, which has goosebumps raising on my arms. I’ve seen the videos of zombies on the news before the entire grid went down. I know what they look like and what they sound like, but I have yet to come in contact with one. I’m wracking my brain as to how this could have happened to Aspen. She rarely leaves the house, and she hasn’t left in days. I try to retrace our steps, piecing together anything that makes sense.

There were rumors going around that the new medication they came out with, IntaX, was causing bad side effects. I remember we picked up a bottle last week when we went to the store, Aspen said she wanted to try it to help with period cramps. Since there was nothing else on the shelves, I relented, grabbing a bottle and stuffing it in our basket. My head spins, my heartbeat speeding up as I recall Aspen taking a few of the white pills the other day for a migraine she had. My mouth drops open as I also remember she started to look sickly a few hours later, and she hadn’t slept last night either.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK! ” I scream into the hallway, slamming my head back against the wall, my hands coming up to lay over my face as everything clicks in my mind. Feeling guilty because I took part in this happening to her, even if it was unknowingly. She had no idea what was happening to her, and if I had just clued her into what was going on in the world, maybe I could have stopped it. If I had only taken the fucking time to ask her if she was okay when I first noticed her face flush with fever. I’m an asshole, but not big enough of one to let her go through that by herself.

My eyes go misty, and my hands shake where they are sitting on top of my knees. Dread fills the pits of my stomach, and my mind whirls with what I need to do next. I’ve killed before, so why am I stalling and dreading this so much? I feel nothing past possession for Aspen, but the thought of her lying dead at my feet by my hands makes me want to vomit. Pushing to my feet, I strain my hearing to try and find where Aspen is inside the room, and deadly silence echoes back at me. Taking a deep breath, I straighten, pushing my shoulders back and clenching my fists before I make my way down the hall. The house creaks with each step I take. Finding the coat closet at the back of my office, I grip the cold brass knob in my sweaty palm before tugging it open. Pushing the coats aside, the keypad I haven’t looked at in over a year glares back at me. After inputting the code with trembling fingers, the hidden door pops open, showcasing a dusty staircase behind it. Lights flicker on with each step I take into the dank space, cold chills running up and down my spine, goosebumps erupting over my skin.

Once I reach the bottom of the stairs, it opens up into a decent-sized room with lights showcasing different kinds of weapons I’ve kept hidden down here the last few years. Dust is collecting on almost every single piece. Spinning in a circle, eyeing every weapon before me, a recognizable sense of adrenaline runs through my blood. One that I haven’t felt since the night I brought Aspen to live here with me. Guess it’s only appropriate I feel it again at the time I will be taking her out of this world. Walking quickly to the wall closest to me, I grab a black 9MM off the wall, quickly inspecting it to make sure it's good to go and filled with bullets. I remove the mag and empty every bullet out except for one. The only one I intend to use this evening.

With the gun gripped tightly in my palm, I make my way back upstairs to my room. Laying my hands along the frame of the door, I tilt my forehead against the wood as I slow my breathing, willing my hands to stop shaking. Pushing off the door frame, I steel my spine and slowly turn the doorknob, pushing it open quietly with the toe of my shoe. Aspen stands by the window, barely visible with the very last rays of sunlight, her blonde hair practically glowing in the dark. I take a few steps closer to her, aiming the gun towards her head, and turn the safety off. The click alerts her, and she spins around awkwardly with a snarl leaving her lips. She takes a step closer to me, and I grit my teeth, preparing myself for the inevitable.

“Aspen, I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you… I’d ask you to forgive me, but I wouldn’t even forgive myself.” My whispered words don’t even seem to reach her as she takes another stuttering step towards me. As my breath whooshes out of me, I pull the trigger. Everything goes in slow motion, the bullet imbedding between her eyes, which go wide and almost seem coherent for just a moment, before she drops to the ground like dead weight. Once I know she’s gone for good, I sink to my knees in front of her, brushing her hair from her face, her dead eyes staring off into space. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed.” My final words to her feel like they were torn from my chest as a single tear tracks down my cheek for what little feelings I had for her.

My legs eventually go numb beneath me, forcing me to face my next dilemma. I clamber to my feet, my knees threatening to buckle beneath me, and head back down to the basement. Once there, I go to the far left corner and grab my biggest tactical bag from the hook. Wrenching the cabinet next to it open, I stuff it with several non-perishable foods, a water purifier, a flashlight, and a headlamp. Lastly, I stuff in a single-person tent with an emergency blanket. Hefting the bag over my shoulder, I eye the wall of weapons and decide that most of them are pointless to bring with me, so I settle for the 9MM that's stuffed in the back of my pants, some spare amo, and a random firefighters axe that I accumulated several years on a job. It’s weight is heavy in my palm. I imagine being able to swing and chop a zombie down without them getting too terribly close.

Hauling everything back upstairs, I rifle through my office for any documents that I think would benefit me somehow and stuff them into the bag. I look around the office with emptiness spreading in my gut before I decide it’s now or never. Trudging to the kitchen, I tug the junk drawer open on the island and grab the old zippo I keep there for Aspen’s girly-smelling candles. I fling the back door open and head towards the shed in the corner of the yard. Yanking the door open, I go straight to the back and grab one of the canisters of lighter fluid from the shelf. Trudging back to the house, my heart rate picks up as anxiety seeps into my veins. Starting in the bedroom, I douse it in lighter fluid before making my way through the rest of the house, finally making a trail out the back door and down the back deck. I toss the canister onto the deck and take several steps back, pulling the zippo from my pocket.

I stare up at the house that has been my secluded oasis for two years now. A place that I thought I would grow old in with my wife. Too bad things don’t always work out as planned. I flick the lid of the zippo open and turn the wheel with my thumb, a flame coming to light, flickering in front of my face. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath before opening them again and throwing the lighter as far as I can. It skids to a stop inside the door to the kitchen, immediately catching on the lighter fluid, flames quickly spreading throughout the house. I stand there watching until the heat from the fire becomes unbearable, forcing me to tear my gaze away and back up towards the woods. At the edge of the trees, I look back one more time, the flames stretching through the bottom level of the house, bursting through several windows, and then I lower my head and start walking to who fucking knows where.