Read Online The Enduring: Stories of Surviving the Apocalypse by Nicholas Ryan - Free Book Online
Authors: Nicholas Ryan
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many?”
Kate shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t know. Twenty? Maybe thirty? They were shrieking, covered in filth and gore and blood. They were disfigured, bleeding from wounds or dragging broken limbs.”
“And they came to the house?” suddenly the world seemed very hushed. Kate stared at me from across the table.
“No,” she said. “Further along the road, a car pulled out of the driveway from one of the houses. It reversed in a screech of rubber and smoke, and then hurtled towards the intersection. It crashed into the ‘Afflicted’. I saw several of them thrown over the hood of the car, one went under the wheels.”
“It was a neighbor driving?”
“With his family,” Kate nodded and clarified. “I don’t know who they were. They had only moved to Waterville a few weeks before the ‘Affliction’ began to spread. The car went up onto the sidewalk and then crashed into the front yard of a house on the corner. The undead went after it. They were baying like wild animals, thrashing to get to the people inside the vehicle.”
“What did you do?”
“Mike had his hunting rifle,” Kate made a pained face. She was uncomfortable talking about this. I could see the tension creep into her body, starting with her hands and tightening in her shoulders. I sat back in the chair and lowered my voice.
“Did he go outside?”
“No, he stayed upstairs. From one of the bedroom windows he had a view of the whole road. We watched the ‘Afflicted’ drag the people in that car out through the smashed windows and the broken windshield. They were screaming, but I only know that because I saw their terrified faces. The sound of the undead was louder. And over the top of all the noise was the crash of houses burning, explosions… the chaos and clamor of Armageddon.”
“What happened after the family was attacked?” I nudged Kate carefully. She was on the verge of falling silent again. I knew if she did, the interview would be over. She stared at me for a long moment, then began to murmur.
“They killed the people in the car – dismembered them. They tore the arms and legs from the bodies and feasted on their guts,” Kate’s voice was like the whisper of someone sitting around a campfire, reciting a horror story: it was hushed, yet filled with the agony of the telling. “Mike had them in his sights. Each time one of the ‘Afflicted’ turned and looked towards our house, he shot them.”
“And they never reacted?”
“There was too much noise,” Kate breathed in relief. “It was like a war zone. He killed three of them with head shots. They never knew where the firing came from.”
“And then…?”
Kate pushed her chair back and stood up slowly from the table. She carried the plates across to the sink and wiped her hands carefully on a dishcloth. “And then they just went away, Mr. Culver,” she said in a steady voice, like suddenly she could breathe again. “Something drew their attention – it might have been another car, or maybe one of the explosions. They went back to the intersection and disappeared behind the smoke and wreckage of all these burning houses.”
“Was that the last you saw of the ‘Afflicted’, Kate?”
“Yes. In a few days the fires stopped burning and the smoke became just a black smudge on the skyline. The Apocalypse swept over us like a wildfire. We never saw any more infected. We started to rebuild.”
When the interview was over I went out through the front door and stood on the sidewalk again, imagining the scene on that day the ‘Affliction’ came to this sleepy Maine suburb. I could see it all in my mind’s-eye: the car screeching out from a garage, the collision… the ‘Afflicted’ swarming all over the vehicle, tearing at the terrified people inside.
I climbed wearily behind the wheel and started the engine. Kate came out through the front door, waving her hand for me to wait. She reached the driver’s side door and smiled down at me.
Kate shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t know. Twenty? Maybe thirty? They were shrieking, covered in filth and gore and blood. They were disfigured, bleeding from wounds or dragging broken limbs.”
“And they came to the house?” suddenly the world seemed very hushed. Kate stared at me from across the table.
“No,” she said. “Further along the road, a car pulled out of the driveway from one of the houses. It reversed in a screech of rubber and smoke, and then hurtled towards the intersection. It crashed into the ‘Afflicted’. I saw several of them thrown over the hood of the car, one went under the wheels.”
“It was a neighbor driving?”
“With his family,” Kate nodded and clarified. “I don’t know who they were. They had only moved to Waterville a few weeks before the ‘Affliction’ began to spread. The car went up onto the sidewalk and then crashed into the front yard of a house on the corner. The undead went after it. They were baying like wild animals, thrashing to get to the people inside the vehicle.”
“What did you do?”
“Mike had his hunting rifle,” Kate made a pained face. She was uncomfortable talking about this. I could see the tension creep into her body, starting with her hands and tightening in her shoulders. I sat back in the chair and lowered my voice.
“Did he go outside?”
“No, he stayed upstairs. From one of the bedroom windows he had a view of the whole road. We watched the ‘Afflicted’ drag the people in that car out through the smashed windows and the broken windshield. They were screaming, but I only know that because I saw their terrified faces. The sound of the undead was louder. And over the top of all the noise was the crash of houses burning, explosions… the chaos and clamor of Armageddon.”
“What happened after the family was attacked?” I nudged Kate carefully. She was on the verge of falling silent again. I knew if she did, the interview would be over. She stared at me for a long moment, then began to murmur.
“They killed the people in the car – dismembered them. They tore the arms and legs from the bodies and feasted on their guts,” Kate’s voice was like the whisper of someone sitting around a campfire, reciting a horror story: it was hushed, yet filled with the agony of the telling. “Mike had them in his sights. Each time one of the ‘Afflicted’ turned and looked towards our house, he shot them.”
“And they never reacted?”
“There was too much noise,” Kate breathed in relief. “It was like a war zone. He killed three of them with head shots. They never knew where the firing came from.”
“And then…?”
Kate pushed her chair back and stood up slowly from the table. She carried the plates across to the sink and wiped her hands carefully on a dishcloth. “And then they just went away, Mr. Culver,” she said in a steady voice, like suddenly she could breathe again. “Something drew their attention – it might have been another car, or maybe one of the explosions. They went back to the intersection and disappeared behind the smoke and wreckage of all these burning houses.”
“Was that the last you saw of the ‘Afflicted’, Kate?”
“Yes. In a few days the fires stopped burning and the smoke became just a black smudge on the skyline. The Apocalypse swept over us like a wildfire. We never saw any more infected. We started to rebuild.”
When the interview was over I went out through the front door and stood on the sidewalk again, imagining the scene on that day the ‘Affliction’ came to this sleepy Maine suburb. I could see it all in my mind’s-eye: the car screeching out from a garage, the collision… the ‘Afflicted’ swarming all over the vehicle, tearing at the terrified people inside.
I climbed wearily behind the wheel and started the engine. Kate came out through the front door, waving her hand for me to wait. She reached the driver’s side door and smiled down at me.
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