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Authors: Richard Palmer
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other side of death seemed not only an abomination against God, but disrespectful to the sweet old lady she had once been.
As we sped away Rick turned in his seat gazing out the back window until Mrs. Martinez faded into the distance.
Perhaps the stress of the situation became too much for her. Heart attack? Stroke? Who knows? Worse still, maybe one of those things got to her and she lacked the strength to fend it off. It could be simpler than that ; maybe she decided to end it thinking the end of days was upon us. Yet again, maybe she was just lonely and simply wanted to go be with Ed after being alone for so very long.
We will never know exactly what happened to that dear sweet woman and that's what haunts us the most. She deserved so much better.
Chapter Four:
Be It Ever So Humble
Rick and I both knew that the infection was quickly s preading. It would overtake the area soon, but luckily we were only minutes from home. The vision of Mrs. Martinez was still fresh, haunting us as it replayed itself in our minds. It was different than the accident we had happened upon earlier. When it’s someone you k now the pain runs deeper, strikes closer to home. It makes you want to lash out in vengeance, to right the wrong and meek out justice on
the perpetrator, but there was no one to strike out against; no one to dispense justice on. There was nothi ng physical to lash out against; Intangible.
“Rick, what are you all going to do? Do you all want to get over to my place or what?” I asked.
“I dunno , it's a thought, but I have to get Amanda calmed down and explain things to her and I have to get the house taken care of. If it comes down to it we will come down to your place.” Rick was still shaken from the sight of Mrs. Martinez, but holding it together well enough.
I reached my arm behind the driver seat and fumbled with some bags. “Hey man, would you grab those radios we bought and get the batteries in them? Start getting ready... I don't want to be outside any longer than we have to.”
Rick started rambling through the various sacks that we had acquired on our trip and began divvying up the supplies.
We were less than a mile from Rick's when we saw yet another “infected.” As we rounded a sharp curve, off in the distance we could see what appeared to be a person stumbling about aimlessly in an empty cattle field. The cattle had sensed danger and had long since fled. When we saw it there was no mistaking what it was.
Shit man, there's another one....” Rick yelled as he pointed to the thing.
Unlike the man we saw on our way back from Panatauk and then poor Mrs. Martinez, other than standing upright and having the v aguest impression of the human stature, you could barely tell that this was a person at all . . . it was heavily decayed. By the way it walked one could tell that the body was almost petrified from years in the grave. Most of its heavy black suit was already disintegrated, having been eaten away by a host of various insects throughout the long years of internment. What remnants remained looked like they were only loosely draped over the body as an afterthought, and seemed as if it could shed itself at any moment. From the way it was shuffling about, it didn't seem possible that there would have been
enough to “come back”, there was no face to speak of, nothing gr otesque or gross about it because anything that would have been nauseating or disgusting had long since rotted away. There had to be sinew holding the bones together but as we looked at it we couldn't see any evidence of it. It stumbled through the cattle field, its fe atureless, bleached white skull in stark contrast to the black suit it had once worn respectfully to the grave. It was hard to believe looking at this thing that once it had been a real living person. It had once been a living, breathing soul with a head full of hopes, dreams and aspirations. Now the only thing filling its head was rotting m aggots. It
As we sped away Rick turned in his seat gazing out the back window until Mrs. Martinez faded into the distance.
Perhaps the stress of the situation became too much for her. Heart attack? Stroke? Who knows? Worse still, maybe one of those things got to her and she lacked the strength to fend it off. It could be simpler than that ; maybe she decided to end it thinking the end of days was upon us. Yet again, maybe she was just lonely and simply wanted to go be with Ed after being alone for so very long.
We will never know exactly what happened to that dear sweet woman and that's what haunts us the most. She deserved so much better.
Chapter Four:
Be It Ever So Humble
Rick and I both knew that the infection was quickly s preading. It would overtake the area soon, but luckily we were only minutes from home. The vision of Mrs. Martinez was still fresh, haunting us as it replayed itself in our minds. It was different than the accident we had happened upon earlier. When it’s someone you k now the pain runs deeper, strikes closer to home. It makes you want to lash out in vengeance, to right the wrong and meek out justice on
the perpetrator, but there was no one to strike out against; no one to dispense justice on. There was nothi ng physical to lash out against; Intangible.
“Rick, what are you all going to do? Do you all want to get over to my place or what?” I asked.
“I dunno , it's a thought, but I have to get Amanda calmed down and explain things to her and I have to get the house taken care of. If it comes down to it we will come down to your place.” Rick was still shaken from the sight of Mrs. Martinez, but holding it together well enough.
I reached my arm behind the driver seat and fumbled with some bags. “Hey man, would you grab those radios we bought and get the batteries in them? Start getting ready... I don't want to be outside any longer than we have to.”
Rick started rambling through the various sacks that we had acquired on our trip and began divvying up the supplies.
We were less than a mile from Rick's when we saw yet another “infected.” As we rounded a sharp curve, off in the distance we could see what appeared to be a person stumbling about aimlessly in an empty cattle field. The cattle had sensed danger and had long since fled. When we saw it there was no mistaking what it was.
Shit man, there's another one....” Rick yelled as he pointed to the thing.
Unlike the man we saw on our way back from Panatauk and then poor Mrs. Martinez, other than standing upright and having the v aguest impression of the human stature, you could barely tell that this was a person at all . . . it was heavily decayed. By the way it walked one could tell that the body was almost petrified from years in the grave. Most of its heavy black suit was already disintegrated, having been eaten away by a host of various insects throughout the long years of internment. What remnants remained looked like they were only loosely draped over the body as an afterthought, and seemed as if it could shed itself at any moment. From the way it was shuffling about, it didn't seem possible that there would have been
enough to “come back”, there was no face to speak of, nothing gr otesque or gross about it because anything that would have been nauseating or disgusting had long since rotted away. There had to be sinew holding the bones together but as we looked at it we couldn't see any evidence of it. It stumbled through the cattle field, its fe atureless, bleached white skull in stark contrast to the black suit it had once worn respectfully to the grave. It was hard to believe looking at this thing that once it had been a real living person. It had once been a living, breathing soul with a head full of hopes, dreams and aspirations. Now the only thing filling its head was rotting m aggots. It
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