Page 3 of Purgatory (Devil Dogs of the Apocalypse #1)

Alessandra

Too. Freaking. Quiet. I’ve lived in cities my entire life. The loud hustle and bustle were like a lullaby to me. Soothing and relaxing. The silence makes me uneasy. Hence, why I’ve resorted to singing or talking to myself so as to not go insane.

But, wouldn’t having a conversation with yourself, on the regular, in fact, then, make you insane?

“ Shut up, no one asked you.”

It really is a cute little town, despite, once again, being devoid of other people.

Your basic one main road, flanked by rows and rows of adorable little houses.

Further down, I can see a little town square setup, complete with, what looks to be, a grocery store, town hall, pharmacy, and a gas station among other various buildings.

Despite the charming ‘Small Town’ Mellencamp appeal, I huff a sigh at the desolation.

“At least I don’t have to fight for supplies. It would be nice to just talk to someone though.” The voice in my mind takes a snarky, smart-ass tone in reply.

And what in the world would you talk about?

Raid any good houses lately? There was this one I found that had an inground pool that was the loveliest shade of swamp green.

Oh! And I found another house with the biggest flat screen I've ever seen, it’s a shame we don’t have electricity anymore, am I right?

“ I could’ve actually finished the series I started. ”

I’m still pissed about that. How am I supposed to know who the main character ends up with? I mean, the show was originally a book so I could always just read it to find out but good luck finding it in this wasteland. So. Frustrating. I hope it's Ryder.

I stop in front of an olive green, 2-story house with a wrap-around porch, and a fenced in backyard.

The words southern charm come to mind, complete with the Spanish moss hanging from the trees on either side of the walkway leading to the front door and the magnolia tree peeking out from behind the fence.

I smile at its simplistic, natural beauty.

“Ah, here we go. This is more like it.”

Looking around one last time, I bound up the porch steps and knock, just in case the residents decided to stick around. No answer. One more time. Knock, knock, knock. Nothing.

“Seems empty enough...”

I pull out the baseball bat from my bag and, cautiously, head inside. A girl can’t be too careful. I’ve seen enough horror films to realize that the dumb blonde is usually the first to go. Let’s face it. I’m already blonde, I’m not about to let myself be dumb, also.

“Hello?”

Silence. I walk in and shut the door. Glancing around the house, it doesn’t look too out of shape.

The bottom floor seems to be an open concept, with the living room area taking over the space to the right of the entryway and the kitchen over to the left.

There’s a large set of windows with french doors in the center over on the far living room wall and at the very back of the house is a staircase which would lead to the second floor.

There’s a bit of dust, a couple of turned over chairs, and the fridge is open and empty but there’s no broken windows at least. Plus, it looks like whoever used to live here hasn’t been back in a while, which suits my needs, and it looks cozy enough for little, old me.

Officially too tired to tour the rest of the house, I slump onto the sofa in the living room, throwing my head back and releasing a deep sigh. I’ll explore the rest later.

“Finally,” I say on a gust of an exhale.

Walking for days on end, by myself, looking for this town was not exactly a relaxing day at the park.

The potential for danger lurking anywhere, scorching temperatures, as well as the distance traveled, made the journey exhausting.

Finding this place and the promise of safety is a giant weight off of my shoulders.

I can already feel the tension melting from my muscles as I sink further into the cushions, taking in the sturdy walls surrounding me, my temporary sanctuary from the evil that lurks somewhere outside.

“Just an hour or two, then I'll check out the rest.” I groan, as I shift my position to get more comfortable, lifting my feet up onto the couch and curling into myself.

I reach for the abandoned throw pillow on the floor and shove it under my head, officially done.

I submit to my fatigue, my eyelids drooping as my consciousness slowly drifts away.

∞∞∞

It’s still sunny out when I wake up from my nap.

I stretch my aching limbs over my head and twist my neck back and forth, popping my muscles and releasing some of the ever-present tension.

The sudden grumble of my stomach reminds me that it’s been at least a day since I'd last eaten anything.

Searching my bag, I dig out a smooshed granola bar, the only piece of food I have left, and down it in 3 bites.

My water bottle is equally depleted, almost empty, but I take a few sips anyways, making a mental note to find more supplies later today.

“It’s a good thing we got here when we did or else we’d be stuck eating grass or risk starving... knowing me, I’d probably starve if that’s the case...”

I sigh and shake my head of its pessimism.

“Ok, let’s see what this place has to offer.”

I push off the raggedy couch and look around. My focus goes straight to staircase on the back wall so I head there to start on the second-floor first, exploring the house top to bottom. Rounding the landing at the top, I see four doors. I open the first which turns out to be a linen closet.

“Nothing to see here folks. Moving on...”

I open the next door to see the master bedroom.

A queen size, four post bed takes up the majority of the room.

Blue comforter and sheets thrown haphazardly over the mattress as if someone had just woken up and was getting ready for their day.

I bite my lip when I see the pictures of the happy couple on the dresser vanity.

They look so young. One picture shows them embracing after, what looks like, a marathon race, holding their well-earned medals high and smiling at the camera and each other.

“What happened to them?” I wonder.

“The same thing that happened to all of the others, so far...”

They were here, in this house, at one point, living just fine.

Was this town overtaken like the others?

Did they leave to find and help loved ones and are ok now?

I scrunch up my nose as my thoughts overtake me.

The dozens of what-ifs bombarding my brain to the point I’m paralyzed staring at the photos, willing them to come to life and tell me what happened.

“They seemed healthy, active, and fit... if they didn’t make it, how the hell do I expect to?”

“Made it this far, though...”

Sigh.

“Barely...”

Shaking my head, I make my way to the closet.

The couple seemed to maintain an active lifestyle so I wonder if they have any hiking boots.

The cute, pink Converse pair that currently occupy the space on my feet are still in decent condition but they weren’t exactly made for long hikes.

I, also, take the time to look through their clothing to find some replacements, but have no luck.

Unfortunately, this is just a Goldilocks situation without the baby bear.

Everything is either too big or too small, and no just right .

And the search for any boots comes up empty, as well.

With a frustrated sigh, I turn and shut the door.

I decide to leave the master bedroom and head to the third door down the hallway.

A bathroom. I happily take the time to relieve myself before continuing my search.

If you’ve never had to shit in the woods, you’ll never appreciate the simple wonders like indoor plumbing, even if you only have one flush left.

Opening the cupboards, I see a few bottles of aspirin, tampons and Band-Aids. I take the lot of it as well as the toilet paper that was left under the sink and shove the haul into my backpack. Turning, I exit the bathroom and continue my tour.

“Last door.”

I shouldn’t have even opened that door. The hairs standing on the back of my neck should have been enough to stop me from going any further, but do I listen to my intuition? Fuck no, that would make sense. And making sense, is just not me, apparently.

Bright colors and action figures line the walls. A twin- size bunk bed is pushed up against the far wall, also not made. Discarded clothes and toys lay scattered on the floor where I sink down when my knees give out.

No. No. No. Please God no.

Suddenly, the room surrounding me vanishes as my mind flashes a few months back.

The road was empty, save for some cars parked carelessly on the pavement, some crashed into each other, some in ditches.

It’s become the predictable scenery, nowadays.

Discarded vehicles, possessions, evidence of lives once lived, scattered amongst the urban tundra.

The sounds that would normally accompany a bustling city are noticeably absent, creating a void sucking at my eardrums. My own fucking purgatory.

“It’s too fucking quiet...”

I’ve just started talking to myself to combat the silence.

It's not natural. Neither my psychosis nor the quiet. You would think the sound of birds or other wildlife would filter in since mankind seemed to be eradicated from this place, delivering this land back to the Earth. You would think that, but it’s not the case.

The silence is deafening and all consuming.

It makes you hear things that aren’t really there.

See things you wish you would see. But it’s your mind playing tricks on you.

My eyes bounce back and forth, searching for something, anything.

I can’t be the only one left, I just can’t be.

It’s not probable. Look at me! I’m average at best. I exercise but not extensively.

I eat healthy... ok, not as healthy as I should but it’s not like I'm hitting up fast food every day.

Survivalists plan for this stuff. Prepare their homes and themselves for months if not years to combat dangers like this so they have to be out there, hiding somewhere. ... Right?

Me? I didn’t prepare at all. I read the news articles.

Drew conclusions from them. But in the end, when I had to run, it was just me, the clothes on my back, a backpack, my bat, a water bottle and whatever food and necessities I could fit in my pack.

That’s it. No water purifier, no matches or flint, not even a real plan.

The plan came later after I got away. FAR away.

So how in the hell does it seem like I'm the only one left?

A sound comes from my right causing me to come to a screeching halt on the road.

I take my time. Looking around. Straining my ears to take in any sounds.

Piercing my eyes in the general direction.

I hear it again and start running towards it.

I know that sound. How could anyone not? It sounds like a baby crying.

“Who the fuck would leave a baby?” I ask myself.

I race around, searching. I hear it but I can’t find the source.

“Where? Where?!”

The sound seems to be coming from all around me.

Surrounding me. Consuming me. The screams get louder and louder until my eardrums feel like they are going to explode inside my head.

I keep on spinning around, looking everywhere but can’t pinpoint where I need to go.

I’m hyperventilating at this point. Sweat dripping down my face from exertion.

The world seems to be spinning out of control.

“I can’t fucking see, you. DAMMIT, WHERE?!” I scream, with every ounce of energy I have, into the air, as if it would listen to me and send a beacon of light to where I need to be. Tears overflowing with my frustration leak out of me.

My heavy breathing is becoming too much, lightheadedness taking over.

Black spots prick the edges of my vision and if I don’t calm down soon, I'm not going to be standing much longer. But I can’t seem to calm down.

My heart is racing, pushing my body to move.

But I can’t. I’m frozen, my body shutting down.

My legs give out and gravity takes me right there, in the middle of high-rise buildings and corporate America.

I wake sometime later. I’m not sure how long has passed but it’s dark now.

I shouldn’t be outside after the sun sets.

Too risky. Too easy to be caught by anything that creeps in the dark.

Laws don’t matter anymore to the living.

And the dead? Forget the judge and jury, they’re simply the executioners. Swift and effective.

I stumble to my feet, swaying a little as I stand.

The silence is back. The previous cries long gone.

I try to listen but it’s futile. I don’t even know if there was a baby, or if it was just my brain playing tricks on me again.

It wouldn’t be the first time. Whatever the case, it doesn’t stop the tears from forming on my lids.

“I need to get back to the house.” Pulling myself together, I sniff and wipe my eyes on my sleeve and turn to leave this nightmare behind.

Coming back to the present, I notice my hands shaking, reliving that day those many months ago. I rub them up and down my legs to try and regain control but it’s no use. The walls start to close in as my breaths get heavier and faster.

I gotta get out of here.

I run out of the room, slamming the door behind me and race down the stairs. Tears pricking my eyes as I try to contain them.

“They’re still alive. Happy. Somewhere else. Away from here.” I repeat to myself over and over, as I race back through the living room and out the French doors to the backyard where I stop and stand in the tall grass.

“It wasn’t real. It’s ok. It’ll be ok. They’re ok.”

I pull at my hair, walking in a circle, willing myself to calm down.

“It’s ok. They’re all ok.”

We’ll be ok.

“Ok... Ok... We’re ok...” Inhaling deep through my nose and out of my mouth, those yoga sessions are at least good for something nowadays.

I decide to sit down in the grass, knees to my chest and repeat my mantra as I stare off at nothing and breathe deeply.

“I’m ok... It'll be ok...”